Page 11 of To Ensnare a Duke

"Of course he is. But-"

"Then that makes him the best choice." It's not that I have designs on our family friend, but it so does make my heart happy to vex my brother.

He turns me in his arms and gives me a stern glare. "Promise me, sister. Promise me you will not pursue him."

My heart pounds in my chest as I look over his shoulder and watch Portswell as he converses with others of the peerage. The long lines of his body as he moves about catch my gaze. Is he really that attractive? Or is it that my brother forbids it that makes him so desirable?

My lips twist up into a smirk. Such a lark to tease him this way. The glow on his cheeks heighten as red continues to climb. Just like when we were children, and I'd torment him until he was near breaking point.

"Come now, brother. I see nothing wrong with this match. Pray tell why you object?"

"I… He… Well… It is not an appropriate union."

This time, hilarious teasing gives way to frustration. "You cannot give me an edict with no real reason."

"As the head of this household and your brother. I certainly can."

Crossing my arms, I look him up and down. It's not like him to assert himself in this way. "Is it because I'm merely the daughter of a late viscount? That doesn't seem to matter to him when he comes calling."

"It is not our heritage," he hedges. "I would explain, but you would not understand."

"Cannot understand? Or do you just refuse to explain it to me?" Frustration continues to build until anger floods my system, nearly blurring my vision. "I am not some daft omega who cannot see reason."

"Gus," he pleads, reverting to his nickname for me from childhood.

"If he's not appropriate for me to marry, then he shouldn't be appropriate company at our house. Nor should he be able to dictate whom I shall interact with."

"It's not that simple…"

Turning my lips down into a fierce frown, I pull myself out of my brother's grasp. "It could be. If you only saw me as an equal and not some feminine being below you-"

"But we aren't equal, Gus. We never have been, and we never will be. Not just as a woman, but as a Lady. Your status dictates the course we all must take."

Tears dot my eyes as I stride forward, keeping my steps small so he can catch up. It's so unfair to be reduced to my biology and title. If only I were low born. Maybe then I'd be able to be privy to the things men do and say freely.

Shaking my head, I sit on a nearby bench as he and Portswell put their heads together in conversation. What could possibly be so objectionable with Portswell that my brother would refuse him as my husband?

He's handsome, well mannered, and titled. Out of all the other men, he doesn't seem to be on death's door, nor does he seem to be quite as dull. A touch on the boring and reserved side, but maybe that's a good thing.

If I marry a quiet man, then I might have an easier time going out and about to experience life. Besides, it's not as if someone as reticent as him would enquire as to my whereabouts if I turn in to sleep for the night. The more I think about it, the better the idea sounds.

Besides, being a duchess would certainly afford me far more freedom than a lower title. However, what intrigues me most is that he’s forbidden, off limits to me. It only makes him all the more the man I wish to tie to me.

Smile on my face, I sit back, plotting out just how I might capture his eye. Granted, since he grew up with me, I'll have to get past the barrier of just being a little sister to him.

If only I knew a better way to ensnare a man's affections… Perhaps another excursion as a man is in order. With my brother no longer residing under our roof, and our addlepated aunt taking up the helm, it will be far easier to sneak about undetected.

Glancing over at a group of men, I take in their stern expressions and harried voices. Not much drifts over, but from what I can gather, they're speaking of the harlot riots. Curious, I inch my way over, doing my best to be as unobtrusive as possible. Reaching my hand out to the ducks, I pretend to make friends with them as I go even closer.

Having already snuck into one of the riots, it's fascinating to hear about it from their perspective. They're so angry as they speak of these women using whatever means it takes to carve out a living. Unfortunately, none of it makes any sense to me.

They can enjoy their company, visiting all manner of things upon their bodies, yet not want them to be healthy, happy, and compensated? Sorrow lances my heart as I continue to eavesdrop, hoping to glean a bit more information.

The last time I went, I was one of the few 'men' who paraded about, demanding freedom to explore the lusts of the flesh, lusts I still know very little about. The others ranted and raved, swearing loudly as they pressed in on us.

Terrifying, to be sure. But not nearly as fearsome as if I were them waking up, my room engulfed in flames… to hate women so much is an anathema to me. I cannot understand how anyone could try to destroy their homes and bodies.

Granted, as a Lady, I cannot engage as they have, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be allowed to. I cannot, will not, allow fear to keep me from standing up for what is right. Tears threaten to prick my eyes as they talk in low murmurs about another house that was hit.