The Duke Goes Down (The Duke Hunt #1) by Sophie Jordan

Ironic, of course. She was a humble vicar’s daughter whilst he had been a duke’s son. And yet she had somehow always made him feel lacking. A lad in mismatched shoes with spots on his face. She could wither him with a look even when they were children. It had made him uncomfortable. Rank alone demanded he feel superior. And yet in her presence he never had.

He should have felt no desire for her.

Oh, she was not unattractive, but no ravishing beauty either. He’d seen far more eye-catching women in London ballrooms. Her large brown eyes were fine enough. They’d been luminescent in the gardens. Following their kiss, though, those eyes had gleamed as if lit from flame.

Upon rousing from his bed, he’d dressed and departed the dower house.

He’d spent most of the morning at the local tavern before remounting his horse and riding aimlessly, lost in his thoughts. But he didn’t bother saying any of that to the vicar. Indeed not. The pious man would think he’d been at the tavern as a patron, there to drink—and it was much too early in the day for a respectable gentleman to spend his time in a tavern.

Perry could not very well explain he was there for something else, something more. That reason was too elusive, too outrageous even for him to wrap his thoughts around yet.

Hellfire.

He didn’t know what he was doing at the tired tavern, surveying the derelict place, talking to old Mr. Compton, the owner, asking him all manner of questions. He could only think that as far as taverns went it was a humble establishment . . . and the only one in Shropshire.

In a village that was bustling and becoming more metropolitan with each passing day, The Hare and The Basket could be more.

It should be more.

Perry knew about first-rate establishments. He’d spent all of his life in them. As a customer, of course. As a patron. Never the proprietor, but he’d certainly known his share of proprietors, and he could still recall the best ones. The ones who greeted him at the door, who saw to his needs with charm and easy grace and style. Several of them he had called friends. He’d liked them. He’d respected them.

All of this he thought about as he had sat in The Hare and The Basket and considered the many ways in which it could be better—the ways it could be made into a premier attraction for the denizens of the shire and even beyond.

He shook his head, dismissing those notions as he smiled at the vicar. Such thinking was fanciful and eccentric. No good member of the ton went into trade. His mother would be scandalized to know he was even thinking along such lines. Marriage to an heiress was supposed to be his way out of his troubles, as she was wont to tell him. A gentleman did not so much as dabble in commerce.

And yet it could be argued Perry was no longer a member of the ton. He realized that was the very thing at stake here—his place in the world. He’d been assigned a place at birth, but now that was gone and he had to decide where he fit.

He glanced down the lane in the direction of the vicarage. “Are you heading home, sir?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. I’m just returning from a delightful visit with Mr. Gupta.” He pulled out a leather-bound book that he had tucked inside his wide jacket pocket and brandished it in the air. “The man is in possession of an enviable, ever-growing library and always so kind to loan to me from it.”

“Mr. Gupta is indeed a well-read man.” Perry nodded. Looking ahead, he gestured down the lane. “Shall I accompany you home?”

The man straightened his hunched shoulders with a touch of righteousness. “I don’t need an escort, young man. I am quite able to stand on my own two legs. They are not yet completely useless.”

“Of course. I simply always enjoy your company. I intended to ride past the vicarage on my way home at any rate. It’s lovely at dusk, the light gilds the ivy covering the stone of your cottage.”

The vicar’s expression softened. “Ah. You’ve noticed that, too? It is lovely. You know, that was exactly how the house looked when I first clapped eyes on the place all those years ago. We’d arrived just as dusk settled. My dear wife was beside me. Of course Imogen, too. She was such a precocious child. She took one look at the house and declared it home.” The vicar sighed and paused for a long thoughtful moment, shaking his head as though clearing it of that tender reverie. “Very well then. Thank you, lad. Let us walk together. You remind me of your father. He always did enjoy a lively discussion.”

Together they walked on, moving at the vicar’s crawling pace. Perry’s horse nickered impatiently and tossed his head as they strolled.

Perry and the vicar kept up a steady conversation. The man mostly talked about Roman history, the topic of the borrowed book currently in his possession. Perry noticed he did tend to jump from topic to topic a little erratically, without much transition. Perry had never noticed this about the man before, so he could only surmise it was a development of age and his recent health woes.

The combination of walking and talking seemed to labor his breathing. Perry frowned in concern at the man and slowed their pace further.

What was his daughter thinking letting him wander so far from home? Anyone could see he was not up to the task. They reached the cozy vicarage in twice the amount of time it would have taken Perry were he walking alone.

The housekeeper greeted them both at the door and he suspected the lady had been looking out the window, hoping to spot her employer returning home in the waning day.