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

“I’ll take that as a compliment. A woman needs keen intelligence to secure herself even a fraction of the rights men have for simply being born.”

“You hardly seem a woman subject to oppression. There are not many women your age with independence and the respect of her community . . . and no pressure to be a wife and mother.”

“I suppose I am fortunate,” she agreed lightly. “At least as long as my father lives I am fortunate. My well-being merely depends on his ability to conquer death, after all.” She forced her eyes wide, blinking up at him. “Perhaps he will live forever, and I will have nothing to fret over.”

Mr. Butler’s expression looked decidedly less confident at that.

With a smug lift of her eyebrow, she pushed on ahead.

He followed, trailing after her through the sudden thickening of brush until they broke out into a small watering hole. He made a small sound at the lovely little spot that she had discovered years ago on a walk.

“What is this place?” he marveled.

“My pond.”

“Your pond?”

“Indeed. It’s my special place.”

“But it’s on my land.” He didn’t know the place, but he knew it was on Penning property.

“No,” she said slowly. “It’s on Penning land. Not yours.”

He released a breath, looking both chastened and annoyed. “Very well. Trust you to correct me on that matter. This is Penning land. Not my land. The point being, how can it be your special place?”

She shrugged. “Am I not permitted to think of a place as special to me? You can’t toss a rock without hitting Penning land.” She moved, climbing up a very large slab of granite that jutted like a shelf from the pond. “The very house I live in was built by the seventh Duke of Penning, your great-grandfather. Almost everything around here is dependent on Penning.” She sat down, very correctly arranging her skirts over her legs.

He dropped his long length down beside her.

She surveyed him beneath her lashes, and then she heard herself asking, “You miss it?” She was not sure why she cared. She should not be bothered to care.

He bent his knee and propped his arm on it. “Miss it? What precisely?” He glanced out at the placid waters thoughtfully. Not so much as a ripple marred the serene surface. “Let’s see. The land? The house? The myriad servants? The deep pockets? The friends? The parties? The ladies eager to line up for courtship?” He sent her a derisive look. “I could go on, but it would only bore you.” He snorted and nodded. “Of course I miss it. I would be a fool not to.”

“But you’ll settle for marriage to either of the Blankenship girls or the baroness’s daughter?” she asked in an almost perfectly normal voice. “That will make you happy?” She didn’t know why she was asking after his happiness. It had never mattered to her before. She was simply curious now, she supposed. No more than that surely.

“Happier than now.” His eyes glittered as he leaned back on one elbow. “I would have readily accepted a match with either of the Misses Blankenship or the baroness’s daughter, once she is officially out. But now I should be so fortunate to gain a dinner invitation from either of those families, much less a blessing in marriage.”

“My fault,” she acknowledged.

“The rumors have done what you intended them to do.” He stared at her intently, and she struggled to defend herself against the accusation in his eyes. In his mind, she was clearly a manipulative little witch. “Tell me. Why? Why are you really spreading such stories?”

The question asked so softly, so intensely, unnerved her.

He saw through her.

He did not accept her earlier explanation. He believed she was motivated by more than her need to protect the ladies of Shropshire.

And he would not be wrong. She had other reasons.

Because you would need to put a bag over her personality.

He had crushed her as a child with his words. That sting had stayed with her all these years. She let it influence her. She had not considered that he might have changed.

His unexpected apology had lessened her ire, however—just as it had caught her by surprise.

She could not answer him, though. Not without revealing more of herself than she wanted. She did not want him to know just how much he had hurt her.

But he stared at her intently, waiting for an answer, so she clung to the only explanation she had ever given, even if she was not so convinced anymore. “These girls deserve better.”

He absorbed that for a moment. “And you’re responsible for seeing to the happy marriages of every girl in the shire? That is quite an undertaking.”

“If I can help a girl avert a sad fate, then why should I not?” she snapped.

“And I’m that sad fate?” His eyes widened and then he tossed back his head in a rough, mirthless laugh. “Don’t be reticent. Tell me how you really feel, Miss Bates.”

“You’re only after what they can bring you.”

“And you don’t think ladies look at me and evaluate what I might bring them? They weigh the advantages for themselves. Does not everyone contemplate marriage in terms of benefit?”

She stared at him in frustration. “Just because something is the status quo, does not make it right.”

He shook his head at her in seeming awe. “You are quite the crusader, Miss Bates? You think to change the world?” The mocking glint in his eyes told her he did not mean that as a compliment—nor did he believe that she could change the way things were.