The Art of Duke Hunting Read Online Free PDF Page A

on the spars by sailors, who appeared like a flock of industrious birds in the leafless branches of trees, she failed to take note of the duke’s approach.
    “Penny?” he said.
    She whirled about. “Sorry?”
    “For your thoughts.” His eyes appeared so different from before. Now they sparkled with good humor, and he looked unbearably masculine. Why was it that a man could take a dunking, have salt encrusting the tips of his hair and even his skin not to mention his ruined Bond Street clothing, and look like a rugged, aristocratic prince among men? It was entirely unfair. She didn’t need a looking glass to know she looked like a wretch.
    He smiled, which made her lose track of the conversation.
    “Ermmm. What did you say?”
    “It’s the age problem, right?”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    He laughed, and it made her insides turn to half-cooked preserves.
    “Your hearing. You’re hard of hearing. I am so sorry.”
    She loftily flitted one hand in the air. “How ridiculous. I hear perfectly well. You’re the one who didn’t hear the mast splinter.”
    “Thank you,” he replied.
    “For what?”
    “For not rubbing my nose in it. You’re to be commended. Most would not have been able to resist making sport of my abominable behavior last night.”
    “I make it a habit never to tease a man with whom I will soon share a name,” she declared with mock seriousness. “By the way, when shall you send the announcement to the Morning Post ?”
    His smile slipped and he hemmed and hawed for a moment before he stopped. “Oh, you’re, um, well. You are just . . . funning.” When she did not immediately reply he halted, horror-struck.
    She regarded him with her best version of innocence. It was hard . . . considering.
    “Lady Derby, may I have the honor of calling on you . . . later this day?” He raked back his hair in a habitual way. “When we debark, that is to say.” He paused. “Are you teasing me or not?”
    She really should take pity on him. His head must feel like a burned cauldron. She hoped it felt worse. She relaxed her face into a smile. “I suppose I should say I’m sorry, but I find it nearly impossible to resist the opportunity when it presents itself so perfectly.”
    “Thank you,” he replied, a small smile finally appearing at the corners of his lips. “Forewarned and forearmed. By the by, I’ve arranged to repay you for a small portion of your, um, kindness.”
    The roots of her hair felt on fire and she was sure she would go up in cinders from embarrassment. “I beg your pardon. I will not accept anything from you, sir.”
    He could have carried it off had it not been for the twinkle in his eye. “Pardon me. I merely asked the captain about accommodations on the isle. He will secure a chamber for you at the better of the two lodgings before the others fight tooth and nail over the limited quarters there.” He paused. “I like to tease too.”
    “Fair enough.” Her heated emotion retreated, only to be replaced by a sensibility unknown to her. She stared at him. She was very used to arranging and securing everything she needed for herself. She preferred it that way. She did not want or need to depend on anyone. She swallowed. “Then I guess it is I who must thank you.”
    He smiled again and it annoyed her for some ridiculous reason. He must know the effect he had on ladies with that look. Indeed, the Duke of Norwich was renowned for his magnetism. But the matchmaking mothers in Town had long since despaired of ever bringing him to heel. He was a rare catch, for he was not known to be in general circulation even if he did spend most of the year in Town. From her seated perch next to the potted palms on the sidelines of the battlefields, or rather ballrooms, in town, Esme had observed him and his ducal cohorts as they refused to allow anyone to pierce the tight, high-flying circle known as the royal entourage.
    Her perverse nature took hold when he offered his arm to her and she