Page 13 of His Temporary Duchess

Be cruel. “Am I under any obligation to?” He released her chin and folded his arms, resting his shoulder against the door. “I made a promise that I would marry one of your father’sdaughters—I have done so. My duty is complete. Now, do you understand the position you are in?”

“If my stepmother asks to visit, you will refuse her?”

He paused, surprised that she would ask the question. Of everyone he had thought she might wish to receive, her stepmother—that cruel woman—had not occurred to him as one of them. Then again, what did he know about the workings of a female mind? “I will refuse her,” he clamped. “No one connected to you may step foot in this house.”

“I see,” she said slowly, then nodded. “I understand.”

“You—” He scowled. At the very least, he had expected a modicum of weeping or a ploy to tug at his nonexistent heartstrings. He had assumed that she would be particularly displeased at the thought of having nothing and no one to speak to.

Perhaps he needed to go a step further.

What else could he do that might strike her as cruel? Something, moreover, that he wouldallowhimself to do. There were some things that even a cad like him would not contemplate.

Eleanor met his gaze with a quizzical look of her own, her eyes appearing more gray than blue in the light. He noted the freckles across her nose and wished he had not. The first time he had seen her, in the mask, he had not known much about her face,save for the lushness of her full lips. Now, he knew far more than was good for him—the rosy glow that infused her cheeks when she looked at him; the delicate arch to her brows as she waited for him to speak.

When he had kissed her at the masquerade, his body had responded in a way it rarely did, especially with innocents like her. He hardly knew what had possessed him to kiss her then; seducing young ladies of virtue was not his usual play.

Yet he had. And now he had to live with the memory of what kissing his new wife felt like—and he would have to resist the urge to do it again.

Despite his best intentions, his gaze dropped to her mouth, which opened in surprise. Her lips appeared as a torment, a temptation he could not wholly deny. And, confound him, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. Even knowing, as he did, that he would need to chase her away—and that he could not consummate the marriage if he wished for it to be annulled.

Just then, something moved on her chest. A lump that traveled across her shoulder and down her arm, emerging at her elbow with a tiny pink nose and whiskers. Horrified, Sebastian leaped back, and Eleanor—damn her—laughed.

“What the devil is that?” he demanded.

“This isScrunch, my pet mouse.”

Sebastian’s elbow caught the vase behind him and it wobbled on its pedestal. He turned, catching it with difficulty. Eleanor let out a tiny giggle, then clapped a hand over her mouth, as though she knew what a dangerous path she walked.

“What did you mean by bringing that thing to my house?” he snapped.

“I could hardly leave him behind.”

“What lady carries a mouse on her person!”

She curtsied. “The one you see before you.”

He pinched his nose. “Get out of my sight, or I will set the cats upon that mouse of yours. Ask the housekeeper for a tour of the house. She will show you to your rooms. Do not disturb me. Do not allow yourpetto escape, or I will not be responsible for my actions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“And Eleanor?” He held her gaze as she turned to leave the room. “Do not try my patience. I can make life very unpleasant for you.”

Instead of cowing at the threat, as he had imagined, she merely inclined her head. “I have no doubt, Your Grace,” she said, but when she exited the room, she left behind the lingering sensation that she did not mean the things she said.

If he was going to scare her away from this marriage, he would have to do something more than he could ever have imagined here.

CHAPTER SIX

“What can you tell me about His Grace?” Eleanor asked the housekeeper, whose name was Mrs. Hodge, she discovered. “Anything I ought to know?”

“Well now.” Mrs. Hodge gave her a frightened glance, as though the question came as an unwelcome surprise. And as though she mistrusted Eleanor—although that could not be right. What loyal retainer would mistrust their master’s chosen wife? Unless they, too, knew that he had not wished to marry her.

Eleanor wished she could understand what lay in the Duke’s head. But every attempt she made was met with resistance.

“He is… as any powerful man, Your Grace.”

“I fear I am acquainted with few.”