A Duke in the Night(23)

She had never looked more touchable. More perfect.

The air between them had thickened, crackling with tension and anticipation. And then she stepped back, pulling her hand from his, and he almost cursed out loud as a mask of pleasant neutrality dropped over her features. “You speak of marriage being a requirement for happiness, Your Grace, yet you yourself remain unwed. So I might see where Lady Anne remains skeptical of your decrees.”

August felt his lip curl in distaste. “I am well aware of my duties to the duchy, Miss Hayward. When I choose a bride, it will be a sound financial and business decision, as all good marriages should be.”

“So you’re holding out for an heiress.” She sounded both cynical and amused.

“If that is what it takes. I’ve seen what happens when people marry because they believe themselves in love, and it isn’t pretty. Contrary to the opinions of poets, love does not conquer all.”

“Your sense of romance is overwhelming.”

“I do not have the luxury of believing romance and marriage to be the same.”

“And what about your sister?”

“Anne will have respect and admiration. Financial security and social standing. Those are the foundations necessary if love within a marriage is to be achieved. And I will make sure she has those things.”

And what does she have to say about that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I might suggest that your sister needs a brother, not a dictator,” Miss Hayward said evenly, in that damnably composed way of hers.

He took a deep breath. “I’m not her dictator. I’m her protector.”

“I fail to see the difference in this case.”

“Anne is not you. You are stronger than she is,” he said.

“Then you underestimate your sister, Your Grace.”

August looked away. How the hell would she know that? She didn’t truly know Anne, not the way he did. This was all so…impossible.

“What is she reading? The assignment she mentioned?” August asked abruptly, knowing that this change of topic was wholly transparent and not caring. He might not be able to control everything—the rise and fall of the tides was a bit beyond him—but there was no excuse for prolonging an ill-advised conversation he never should have started.

“I’m sure it’s of little interest to you.”

“Then you’d be wrong.”

“It’s titled Marriage,” Miss Hayward said with a measure of irony.

“I’ve not heard of it.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would have. I received my copies shipped from Edinburgh only last week.”

“A Scotsman wrote it?”

A small smile played around Miss Hayward’s lips. “No. A Scotsman most assuredly did not write it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to, Your Grace. As you pointed out earlier, you are not a student of the Haverhall School for Young Ladies. Unless, of course, you feel the need to determine what Lady Anne is and isn’t allowed to read while she is under my tutelage.” She said it genially, but August could hear the steely challenge beneath.

Dictator indeed. “Of course not.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You are welcome to read it yourself, if you like. I can have a copy sent over to the dower house.” She hesitated. “Perhaps that would give you an alternative topic of conversation in which you may engage your sister.”

August frowned. He didn’t need any more of Miss Hayward’s advice when it came to Anne. He’d already disclosed far more than was wise, and he did not like to give anyone any kind of leverage. “No, thank you. I’m quite sure that I’ll have other things that will occupy my time.” Like focusing on the real reason he was here.

Because he didn’t accept failure. Failure was for weak people like his father.

“Would you join me for dinner?” he asked. He needed to get back on track. Start making some inroads with the Haywards that didn’t involve his own family tribulations.

“I beg your pardon?” Miss Hayward stared at him, those liquid brown eyes widening in startled uncertainty and a beautiful flush creeping into her cheeks. August tried not to be too pleased.

“The invitation, of course, extends to your brother. And your sister too, if she’s so inclined. I am, after all, trespassing somewhat, and it’s the least I can do.” And it was something that the Duke of Holloway did when courting an investment. Invite the stakeholder to his club or to his home and lavish him with good food and better liquor. An expensive strategy, but one that invariably paid off in spades. It was easy to disarm his next prospective opportunity when he was drunk on extravagance.

Though he suspected that none of the Haywards would be impressed with such extravagance. Especially since it had been part of the demise of their fortunes, an obsession that had cost their parents almost everything. No, the Haywards would require something a little different, yet no less memorable.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline, Your Grace.”

“Wonderf— Wait, what?” He stared at Miss Hayward. Dammit, why was she making this so difficult? A dinner invitation from a duke seemed to be something the rest of society fell all over itself to accept. “Why? Is it a requirement that you eat with your students?”