Page 80 of Dukes for Dessert

“Not entirely. Perhaps he simply needs to be reminded that he came here to find a wife, and Marina is his only option.” Juno winced inwardly. She didn’t like thinking of Marina in that way. She deserved better than that. “He needs to give her—them—a true chance.” Juno was still dubious. Perhaps he was too, which put them in agreement. She marveled at that for a moment.

“Are you talking about me?”

The gruff sound of the duke’s voice prompted both Juno and Cecilia to whip around and face the door. The rigid duke stood just inside the dining room, his perpetual scowl only slightly less etched into his face than usual.

“Yes,” Juno answered quickly, drawing a sharp glance from Cecilia.

The duke stared at her a moment. Juno heard Cecilia’s breath catch.

He shrugged. “I was just passing.”

“I must be off,” Cecilia said. “I’ve much to do.” She looked toward Juno with slightly widened eyes, her head tilting infinitesimally toward the duke in silent communication that Juno should speak with him. Or something.

The duke stepped out of the way as Cecilia departed.

“I imagine she’s planning another tedious event for the morrow.” His mouth slashed into a frown as his thick brows gathered.

Juno had suffered enough of his eternal disdain. Moving toward him, she threw her shoulders back and puffed up her chest as she sought to mimic him. “I hate house parties and picnics, and I’m the grumpiest man alive.” She pouted up at him, then bared her teeth, lowering her voice even more to a harsh rasp. “But I’m a duke, so I can behave like an ass and get away with it.”

His eyes rounded. He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You sound exactly like that.” Juno relaxed her shoulders.

“I don’t say things like that. The ass part. I know I said I hated house parties.”

“Just because you haven’t yet said the ass part doesn’t mean you won’t.”

“You think you know me so well?”

“I think you’re a shallow, predictable, surly curmudgeon. Perhaps you’re more than that, but you won’t let anyone see.” She adopted her best rigid-duke growl. “I don’t need to be pleasant or kind, so I won’t. Not even to woo a wife.” She stared at him with as much disdain as she could muster, then rolled her eyes for good measure. Satisfied that she felt better even if he never understood her point, she stepped around him to leave.

“That was actually pretty good,” he murmured from behind her as she sailed from the dining room.

There was a note of appreciation in his tone that gave her hope. Perhaps tonight would go better than the promenade at the picnic. If it didn’t, she wasn’t sure the match would happen, regardless of Lady Wetherby’s insistence.

Dare wasn’t surprised to find himself seated next to Lady Marina again at dinner that evening. However, he was rather speechless—and not because he chose to remain stoic, which was typical—when Mrs. Langton sat on his other side. Still, the first course nearly passed in complete silence among them.

“Why aren’t you speaking with Lady Marina?” Mrs. Langton’s urgent whisper caught him off guard.

He turned his head to find she was much closer than he’d realized. She’d leaned toward him to deliver her query.

“She’s quite focused on her soup,” he murmured in response. A glance toward Lady Marina reaffirmed his assessment. She’d yet to make eye contact with him at all and had barely uttered good evening when she’d sat down.

“Don’t take her shyness for disinterest,” Mrs. Langton said brightly, still keeping her voice low. She looked at him expectantly, a smile hovering about her lush, kissable mouth.

Kissable?

Dare cleared his throat and snapped his attention back to his soup. A moment later, he tried to engage Lady Marina. “How do you find the turtle soup?”

“Tolerable.” Her gaze didn’t so much as flick toward his. Or anywhere except her soup.

Frowning, he set down his spoon and pondered whether it was worth his time to bother trying again.

“You could ask her about the wine,” Mrs. Langton suggested.

“What about it?” he asked in a low growl.

“You aren’t very adept at conversation, are you?”