The Duke Diaries Read Online Free PDF Page B

at her clear brown eyes, which appeared sharp as a whip and yet just like liquid velvet. What in hell?
    “Cat got your tongue?” She looked at him with a slyness he’d never seen in a Fitzroy female.
    “Absolutely not,” he replied. “I see you only take offense at others’ use of clichés.”
    “I always allow myself one each quarter. I take care that it is one of the more offensive.”
    “You know, V, I’m not surprised you and your sisters are still unwed if this is how your brother taught you how to listen to a man’s offer.”
    “Oh, I can do that. When it is politely given.”
    “I beg your pardon. I meant no offense.” He stopped. “Verity, do be serious. Give me the chance to correct the great harm I’ve done you. We must marry. You know it.”
    “I most certainly do not. It’s as I said in Town,” she continued after a beat, “there is absolutely no reason to marry. Nothing will ever come of your stupid mistake in Carleton House—especially since any gossip generated will be far overshadowed by the tales of the royal entourage’s night of debauchery. Your only duty to me is to figure out a way to avoid dueling with my brother. You owe me that much, I agree.”
    This was not at all going the way he had planned. And he knew how to plan. Obviously, he had gotten it wrong. He had thought that almost a week’s worth of silent contemplation would convince her of the necessity of wedding him. He had been so certain he had not thought it through. But, of course, she would want to be wooed, even if the end result was not in question. All ladies liked nothing better than wooing.
    Even when they knew it would lead to what all gentlemen wanted. And that wasn’t wooing.
    She looked at him with the oddest expression. One he hadn’t ever noticed on a young lady before. Why could he not make it out? He cleared his throat.
    “If you will not have me, Verity, the least you could do is allow me the pleasure of your company for a bit each day, since I’ve taken the trouble to return.”
    She said not a word. Her eyes still searched his face.
    “Your siblings are in London or on their way to Cornwall as we speak. The neighborhood is much changed since I was last here. And I am rattling around the Hall, all alone, while you’re becoming a tad starkers wearing one-hundred-and-five-year-old but nonetheless charming hats. Shall we not—”
    “You’re going to attempt to woo me, aren’t you?”
    He had to force his jaw to close. “You know, most ladies like me.”
    “I know.” Her eyes had that damn innocent look back in them.
    He ground his molars.
    “Fear not,” she continued. “We understand each other perfectly. Of course I shall see you. We’re neighbors. And we must stay until James’s ire cools and everyone in Town has forgotten this stupid business.” A tendril of her dark brown hair fell to her shoulder from the confines of her hat, which looked rather like a neglected haystack. “You do realize that once the surrounding families know you’ve come, why, there will be an endless round of routs, dinners, country balls, and the like in your honor to contend with.” Her eyes danced merrily. “It will be delightful!”
    Rory sighed deeply. Routs, dinners, country balls, church on Sunday, and gossip on Monday through Saturday. “Delightful, indeed,” he murmured. He had to retreat before he lost the inch he had gained. He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it.
    “Must be off. Lovely to see you.” She rose from her chair with her book in hand, and not waiting for him, Verity Fitzroy headed toward her horse without the tittering, coy hesitation of most ladies he knew. With a quickness that surprised, she placed her book in the saddlebag and ascended into the saddle with agility and grace. At the last moment she turned her mount’s head about and glanced toward him. “I’m glad you’ve finally come home. You were missed, Rory.”
    His hand clenched involuntarily at his side.

 
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