Page 38 of The Duke is Wicked
Then, the man stepped into view.
Sebastian tapped his knife against the windowpane, one hard rap. “Who is that with Miss Temple?”
Finn stepped beside him, nudged the drape back with his teacup. “Where?”
“Archery range.”
Leaning until his nose nearly struck the glass, Finn groaned. “Gads, is there any sport that woman won’t try to best a man at?”
Sebastian snorted and fingered his blade, razor-sharp, as he’d just gotten it back from the knife grinder who traveled the area once a month. “Not that I’ve found.”
“Must be the result of growing up with a male twin and having absolutely no one tell you no.Ever. Plus, the American thing. And the brilliant mind. Thinks she’s the smartest person in the parlor, and probably is.”
Sebastian rocked back on his heels, refusing to comment. Not when Finn wanted him to so badly, they could both taste it.
They watched Delaney loose an arrow, her form elegant, steady, bold. Desire stirred in his belly, his thighs, his cock. He could lie to everyone about how much he wanted her. But he couldn’t lie to himself.
“Ah, I see him. That’s Sir Kinkaid. Reginald. New member of the League. Awarded a knighthood last year, diplomatic work of some sort. Most Distinguished Order, I think it was. Victoria hands those out like sweetmeats. Has an uncanny talent for forgery, probably why he made such a stellar diplomat. Sees writing like a photograph in mind, he says, maybe a bit like your girl’s attic. Came in from London to work with me on letters I’ve received from a contact in Italy.”
Sebastian popped the knife against the windowpane. “She’s notmyanything.”
Finn pulled his top lip between his teeth to hide his smile and glanced at the weapon in Sebastian’s hand, the thumb he carefully traced along the blade. “Thinking of using that on anyone in particular? The affable knight out there chatting with Miss Temple, perhaps?”
“Is there a point to this interrogation, Alexander?”
Finn tilted his head side to side and clicked his tongue in a jaunty tune. “There aren’t many available women, especially beautiful ones, in the League. Not many at all, should a handsome man with an unusual gift be thinking it a suitable place to look. I’m talking about Kinkaid, obviously. No one but Kinkaid. Say they found their way to each other, Kinkaid and Miss Temple, he wouldn’t have to hide his meager talent, not considering the mighty strength of hers. All out in the open, the mystical curses, which makes for a proper marriage.”
“Available,” Sebastian murmured. The breath slipped from his lungs at the thought of another man stepping in where he couldn’t with Delaney, which was absurd. Then his fingertips started to tingle, never a good sign.
Finn glanced back to the archery range. “Is, isn’t she? Available? Though I could see a chit like Miss Temple, half of the Terrible Two, never marrying, telling every man in England to sod off.” He paused the proper amount of time, the arse, then said casually, “Cute pup running around her feet. Where’d he come from?”
Sebastian closed his knife with a snap and jammed it in his coat pocket. “You’re about as subtle as a mallet, Alexander,” he grumbled, and crossed to the door.
Finn raised his teacup in salute. “No idea what you’re talking about, Your Grace. Just conversation to pass the time. Being around a duke makes me nervous, you know. Apologies.” He bowed, elegantly contrite. “Have a sudden urge to check out the archery range, do you?”
His friend’s laughter followed Sebastian down the hallway and into the gallery. Although there wasn’t much to laugh about when hewasheaded to the archery range. Plenty of reasons to interrupt Delaney’s discussion with a handsome knight who might be looking for a wife. He and Julian were beginning work on the historical precedent behind supernatural gifts being inherited. Surely, he could come up with a timely question he needed to pose to her regarding the topic, he decided as he breezed out the front door, down the stone steps and across the lawn.
The muffled conversation drifted to him on a swift whip of air. Sebastian journeyed through a bedraggled rose garden in need of assistance and halted before getting close enough to intrude on the couple. Present as a chaperone, and guard, Delaney’s maid, Minnie, sat on a bench to the target's side. Sebastian spotted the knife jutting from her scuffed boot. Also, two of his men roamed the woodlands.
Resting his shoulder against a towering elm at the back of the range, he observed Sir Reginald Kinkaid doing the dance a man does when around an attractive woman, while trying to puzzle through his own bewildering emotions. He felt…differentwhen he was with her. There were possibilities where none had existed before. Like rain ripping through an arid desert, the change was startling. And wonderful. Refreshing. A chance to grab a vital piece of life outside his reach, one missing before she’d entered his life.
He was terrified to examine what exactly thatwasin precise detail.
The wind ripped at her hair, slinging the blue-black strands across her pale cheek, the same colors hidden in the flames plaguing his dreams. Riding every morning had freckled her fair skin, giving it a golden tone that made her look even more untamed. Maybe that’s what attracted him so powerfully. She wasn’t from this world, this titled, repressed, proper world. Inhibited by expectation and probability until the real person was lost forever. She didn’t look at him like he’d just stepped away from a conversation with God or the queen.
In her eyes, he was nothing but a man attached to a meaningless title, fulfilling the idle wishes of his long-dead ancestors.
It came to him unexpectedly, the sense of wonder he experienced in her presence. He didn’t feel like a duke when he was around her. That was it. And she certainly didn’t treat him as such, which matched what he wanted from life, because he’d neverfeltlike a duke.
However, it was complicated. More complicated than a reluctant duke could explain. His scars were numerous—slashes across his skin, yes, but they were on the inside, too. As hers were. If he gave a damn, which he wasn’t sure he did, they were at opposite ends of the social spectrum. A terrific scandal, any way you looked at it. Likewise, she hadn’t told him everything about the encounter that had sent her running to England. About what she’d seen that had caused her to tumble from her horse. Whilehehadn’t told her everything about his father, his hands being plunged in a fountain only a taste of the abuse he’d suffered trying to be someone he wasn’t.
No choice to be anything but what you were told to be when you were a child.
But he was a man now—and fucking tired of pretending.
So, he started toward his lovely temptation, intent on breaking up her friendly conversation with the forger.
Even if he had no reason to intrude. No reason at all.