Page 35 of Never his Duchess

“The professor at Cambridge might beg to differ?—”

“It does not matter,” she said finally. “I do not like riding. You could have said something. You told me that you were going to be more selective when it came to gentlemen.”

“I did. And I am. However, the longer you live here with me, the more difficult it is going to become to find gentlemen, because rumors will begin to spread.”

“What do I care about rumors? What could be worse than being called the?—”

He raised his eyebrows. “Called what?”

“You know what I mean. I heard it more than once yesterday at Almack’s. I do not care for it.”

“Well,” he said, “you know what will remedy that situation?”

“If I get married. Yes, I know. But Nathaniel, I am not entirely your puppet.”

“It seems to me that you are.”

He paused and stuffed his hands into his pockets, thinking back to his conversation from earlier with Julian. This was as good a time as any to tell her.

“Listen. Your father wrote to my solicitors. Asking to get access to?—”

“What?” she said, her eyes widening as her jaw dropped. “You did not agree, did you?”

“Of course not. But it was only a matter of time before he asked. Legally, he can demand everything. I can delay the solicitors for a time. If he writes again, I can tell him that all the money is tied up in the will and all has not yet been settled, although that is not true. But I cannot push it out forever. You must find a husband, and soon.”

“But the physician told Lady Appleton just this morning that the Irish air would be better for her, and that she is considering leaving the dower house, so I could use that.”

“You could use it. And I would let you stay there. But how would you live once your father takes all your funds? You must see sense.”

“No,” she said, then bit her lip. “I mean, not with Lord Worthington. He’s dreadful. He?—”

She seemed suddenly deflated, and he felt bad for having wounded her. Although it wasn’t really his fault that the man was dreadful.

“Apart from making you ride a horse, which you did not tell him you did not like, how was he dreadful?”

She looked at him and took a deep breath, her chest rising in her green riding habit. Then she exhaled, shoulders dropping.

“He compared me with a mare.”

Nathaniel knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help it. He snorted so hard that the gulp of brandy he had taken just a moment before almost came out of his nose.

“Pray, how did he do that? I hope it was to tell you that you are as elegant as his mare. Or that your hair was as shiny as hers?”

“No,” she said. “He told me that I had a calm demeanor.”

This time, Nathaniel let out a belly laugh. “A calm demeanor? Was that just five minutes into your meeting with him?”

She glared at him but did not respond.

“He also said that I have good calves. And then he described his calves. But I’m wearing riding boots. How could he even tell?”

“I suppose he admired them yesterday when you were dancing,” he suggested. “I saw him looking at your calves several times.”

“Do you not see how uncivilized this is? He was a poor choice.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Very well. I promise you that the next one will be better. He has to be.”

“I suppose,” she replied. Then she looked at him. “Is dinner served? I am rather famished. I know I should?—”