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

“No, my mother assisted in other areas though. She was a much better gardener.”

“And you’re the better writer?”

She swallowed and shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to answer that. “Er. I also help Papa with his paperwork.” In truth, she did all of it for him these days. His bookkeeping had been a mess before she got her hands on it.

His gaze skimmed her face. “I’m sure you do. You’re quite the enterprising lady, Miss Bates. You do it all.”

She lowered her gaze, certain he was ridiculing her now. “Please don’t mock me, sir.”

“I am not mocking you. Rare is the individual as productive as you are.” Her cheeks grew warm under his regard—until he said his next words. Then the heat was the result of an altogether different reason. “I am certain once you put yourself to the task, you shall have no problem dismissing the rumors of me you started.”

She shook her head. Of course.

“Is that why you are here?” she hissed, sending a quick, wary glance to Papa. “Did you even accidentally happen on my father? Or was that a ploy?”

“A ploy? You think I stalked him?” A corner of his mouth kicked up and she ignored how rakishly handsome he looked. “If I wished to see you, I needed no ploy to do it.”

She shot a worried look at her father. Thankfully, he still snored on unawares. “I think you have one purpose here and that is to have me do your bidding,” she rushed to say, her voice a feverish hush on the air.

He laughed lightly, shaking his head. “Have you ever done anyone’s bidding, Miss Bates? You don’t strike me as a biddable sort.”

“I listen to my father.” She sniffed.

No one else was due her deference as far as she was concerned.

“I might not be your father, but it is my hope that you will do the right thing of your own accord.”

Well, if that did not make her feel riddled with guilt.

As though sensing he was being discussed, Papa suddenly snored loudly enough to wake himself. He jolted in his chair, sitting up and looking around wildly as though he had forgotten his location.

Imogen quit her seat before the harp and hastened to her father’s side, resisting looking at Mr. Butler as she glanced to the clock on the mantel. The hour was growing late. She should see Papa to bed. Sound enough reason to put an end to this most unusual of evenings.

She doubted such a thing would ever happen again. She could not imagine another time when Peregrine Butler should take the time to dine with them, no matter how much he claimed to enjoy tonight’s dinner. He had his agenda and she and Papa were not part of that.

She was not part of it, and she would do well to remember that and cease her interference in his plans. Yes, she had a change of heart. Borne of desperation and self-preservation, she’d changed her mind. She would leave him be, and he would then have no reason to seek her out.

If he wanted to marry a lady for her dowry and that lady was agreeable to being so manipulated, then so be it. He would not be the first man to do so—nor would the lady in question be the first to marry for reasons that had nothing to do with love and respect.

“Papa,” she whispered so as not to startle him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed.

His eyes flitted to her face and she watched as awareness filtered back in. “Imogen? Oh. What time is it?” he asked as he glanced to the clock.

Mr. Butler’s clothes whispered as he moved away from the hearth. “Time for me to take my leave. I’m afraid I overstayed my welcome.”

“Oh, never say!” Papa took her arm and rose to his feet. “You’re welcome to stay the night, Mr. Butler, so you don’t have to ride home in the dark. We always keep our spare room prepared for guests.”

Imogen felt her eyes go wide. Peregrine Butler in the bedchamber next to hers? She tensed, forcing her gaze to remain fixed on her father so she did not turn to gawk at Mr. Butler.

“Oh, I could find my way home blindfolded, and even if I could not, my mount knows his way home. He’s well trained and could find his way to the stable through a blizzard.”

Papa did not look convinced, but he nodded, and motioned for Imogen to move in Butler’s direction. “See our guest out, Imogen. If you’ll forgive me, Mr. Butler, I’m going to start up the stairs for bed. Thank you for joining us.”

“I had a marvelous time. Thank you.”

Mrs. Garry, who had undoubtedly been listening at the door, appeared in the room ready to take her father’s arm. Imogen and the housekeeper had grown increasingly concerned at his maneuvering on the stairs and tried to be there when he ascended or descended.

Mr. Butler looked to her expectantly, arching an eyebrow as they were left alone in the parlor.

“This way,” she murmured, gesturing ahead as though there was any great mystery as to the location of the front door.

She marched through the small foyer whilst Papa finished ascending the stairs alongside Mrs. Garry and disappeared from sight.

“I trust you can find your way to our stable,” she said rather curtly as she pulled open the front door for him.

He hesitated before crossing the threshold. “It’s a short stroll. Why don’t you walk with me, Miss Bates?”

She peered at him suspiciously, her hand flexing anxiously around the edge of the door.