Page 224 of Dukes for Dessert

Adam found such disregard for decorum and proper behavior both appalling and irresistible. Open unconventionality might be considered an insurmountable flaw in the beau mode, but up here in the middle of nowhere, she didn’t need to be a perfect lady. Villagers loved her because she was funny and fun, relaxed and friendly.

And now she was standing at the edge of Adam’s meticulously manicured front garden.

“Lovely to see you again, Your Grace.” Miss Quincy dropped a polite curtsey. “I was hoping to find you.”

“You were?” Adam growled dubiously.

The growl, because he’d long ago learned it was the best way to keep from stammering or making himself otherwise appear uncomfortable with the current situation.

The dubiousness, because the last time he’d had the pleasure of Miss Quincy’s company, Adam hadn’t managed to speak a single word to her. Not even a growl. Why would anyone hope to go through that again?

The one and only time he’d hosted a gathering, Adam had been so tongue-tied that his guests had mostly talked with each other. Not that there had been many of them. Adam didn’t know enough of his neighbors to muster up a proper crush. The primary reason he knew of Miss Carole Quincy was because their properties shared a border. From the wooden-latticed belvedere in his rear garden, Adam could watch her entertaining in hers. Near as he could tell, she was bosom friends with the entire village.

Except for him.

She joined him on the stone path as if they made a habit of strolling up to his front door side by side. “Marvelous day, is it not?”

“Depends if you like sun,” Adam growled, then heroically refrained from slapping a palm across his overheated face.

It depended if she liked the sun? Who hated the sun? Even his well-practiced growl couldn’t make a comment that stupid sound intelligent.

He shifted his weight and tried to ignore his accelerated heartbeat. Everyone else could do this. Small talk about the weather was something children mastered before they left the nursery. Well, almost everyone. He was working on becoming New Adam, but he wasn’t New Adam yet. He was still awkward and shy and desperately wishing she’d waited to speak to him until he finally figured out what to say.

She grinned up at him. “My apologies if my arrival startled you.”

He shook his head. Admitting being startled was like admitting he was completely out of his element. “Family of yours?”

She laughed. “Le Ducs, actually.”

Adam did not laugh. Le Ducs, actually was a mere extra syllable away from Madame Edna’s prediction of Dukes, actually.

Was he the victim of some elaborate hoax? Embarrass the awkward duke whilst the popular set had their laugh? He’d hoped he’d left such games behind him at Oxford.

Then again, how could anyone have orchestrated the fortune teller’s ruse and the coincidental timing of his arrival? Adam himself hadn’t known he would be at the castle, much less at what hour. He’d made the decision to donate his books in the coach on the way up. Even his driver hadn’t known until after they’d passed the Welcome to Christmas sign.

None of that prevented him from putting on his imperious face as they reached his front door. Haughtiness was the one mask that never failed him.

Miss Quincy bit her plump, rosebud lip. “Please excuse my forwardness, but do you mind if I come inside?

Adam stared at her in stupefaction.

“I won’t bother you,” she continued in a rush. “It’s just, your library—”

His library? The place he planned to lose himself inside, in order to escape the embarrassment of not knowing what to say to others?

“It wouldn’t be a good idea,” he interrupted coldly. No, that frigid tone was part of his problem. Adam started again. “I cannot invite you in. I’ve just arrived, and I don’t know in what state of readiness—”

The front door swung open.

“Welcome home, Your Grace.” Swinton, Adam’s beloved but maddening butler, guarded the entrance with his usual brisk efficiency. “We’ve been waiting for you. Everything is in order.”

There went that excuse. Adam barely hid his sigh.

“Ah, Miss Quincy.” Swinton took in her presence next to Adam as if he always arrived home with an attractive young lady at his side. “I presume you’re here because of the golden ring?”

“The golden what?” Adam exploded in disbelief.

Not Swinton, too! First Madame Edna blathering on about five golden rings, and now his no-nonsense butler saying things like—