Page 36 of To Dare a Duke

“Is that so?” he asked, the bored tone still lacing his voice. “I see you know everything about me.”

She laughed then, shaking her head. “I know nothing about you. Only the parts you wish the world to see and judge you on.”

He scowled at that. “You think I want them to judge me?”

Prue smiled, pleased that the affectation of boredom had slipped, revealing a thread of anger in his voice.

“I think you believe they already have. You’re just been giving them what they expect.”

He stepped towards her and she faced him, her certainty he had not increased in size shaken further by his proximity.

“My god, you’ve not a bleeding heart, thinking I’m really romantic and sweet and that I’ve been misunderstood all this time?”

He sounded revolted by the idea, and she laughed.

“Not in the least. I think—murder notwithstanding—that you’ve done plenty to earn your reputation, your grace. I’m just not certain you enjoy it as much as everyone would like to believe.”

He let out a breath, holding her gaze. “You’re remarkably perceptive.”

Prue said nothing in reply, feeling her heartbeat as an erratic thud in her chest.

“Well then, are we going to dance?” he asked.

“I don’t know, you’ve not asked me to.”

He snorted and folded his arms. “I’ve asked you several times and been refused.”

“I won’t refuse,” she replied, a little annoyed that the words had sounded rather breathless, almost eager. Almost as if she wanted to dance with him.

She watched him step closer, holding out his hand to her. “Miss Chuffington-Smythe ― that really is an awful mouthful, you know,” he said, startling her a little.

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “You have no idea what a burden it is. It’s possibly the only thing that would induce me to marry, just to be rid of it.”

“The only thing,” he repeated, staring down at her. “I do not understand why you are so opposed to the idea.”

Prue looked up at him then. “Would you wish to marry again, if you didn’t need an heir?” He opened his mouth and she raised her hand, stopping him. “Tell the truth,” she demanded.

For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer.

“No,” he said at last. “No, I don’t believe I would if I didn’t have to.”

She nodded, satisfied. “There you are, then.”

“No, it’s not the same,” he objected. “You’ve never been married.”

Prue shrugged. “No, but I’ve had first-hand experience of what it can mean, how it can trap a woman. I’ll not be trapped. Not ever. Not by anyone.”

“You’ll be trapped if anyone discovers us here,” he pointed out, curiosity glinting in those dark eyes now. Prue stared up at him, wishing the light were better, wishing she could see the green that seemed to change depending on the light. The were far darker now, almost black; “We’ll have to marry then.”

“No, we won’t,” she said, smiling at him. “I’ll just be ruined. It’s not at all the same thing.”

“You’d rather that?” He looked shocked, perplexed, and possibly even a little hurt. “You’d rather ruin yourself than take a chance with me?”

“Yes,” she said, the answer simple enough. “I would.”

His jaw tightened a little, but he said nothing further on the subject.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked then, and she could read neither his expression nor his tone.