Page 5 of The Duke’s Goddess (Duke Dare #2)

“ I am not a book.” –Joan of Arc

JAMES WAS LEADING JOAN onto the dance floor when she tugged on his arm before the music could start.

“Is there a problem?” James asked over his shoulder.

Oh yes. There was a problem. Joan was not about to dance with a rake, if she could help it. Being led to the floor by him looked bad enough. She hadn’t actually planned to go through with the dancing part.

“We’re not dancing together.”

He laughed. “Not yet, but—”

“No. Not yet or later or anytime. I need a refreshment. I’m feeling—”

With a waggle of his brows, James jumped in— “mischievous?”

Joan just rolled her eyes. “Let’s just get a drink.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, leading her away from the dancers. Thankfully they still had time before the instruments reverberated with sound. Still holding her hand on his forearm, Joan and James found a spot where they could stand discreetly together. It was as if he had read her mind in placing them here.

Here. Where they were apart from the crowd enough to discuss the goings on of the evening. Here. Where they could watch their respective friends hopefully find love. Here. Where (hopefully) no one would judge Joan for spending some time in the notorious rake’s presence.

Taking a sip of his drink, James watched as Jacob shone a brilliant smile at Sally. And Sally…well, she reflected a blurry version back at him.

“So,” James didn’t look at her as he spoke, “are you going to tell me what your plan is? Or shall we continue to test our nonverbal communication skills?”

He noticed it too, then, did he? That was an interesting observation to make…if she was making observations about James. Which she wasn’t.

“I can’t dance with you.” Joan decided to take the direct approach.

“So I gathered by the fact that we’re not dancing.” The amusement in his voice was vexing. Was he laughing at her? Didn’t he realize the risks she was already taking?

“You’re a—erhm…well, you know” —the direct approach was not always so easy to take— “you must know…that you’re a rake,”

James's hand flew to his chest, his mouth falling open. “I can’t believe you said that.” His aghast whisper shouldn’t have given her lips a reason to smirk.

Blasted mouth!

“James, don’t be silly. We have only a few minutes to scheme.”

“Scheme? I like the sound of that. If I wasn’t holding a drink, I would rub my hands together and cackle,” he said this with a sideways glance and a wink.

“You can still cackle.”

“I’ll save you the embarrassment of the eyes you don’t want on you. I understand you’re ashamed of me.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but something in his tone made Joan pause.

“I’m not ashamed of you.”

“Don’t worry yourself over it. You wouldn’t be the first. And I’m sure you won’t be the last.” After a large gulp from his drink, James rested his glass on a passing tray and picked up another.

And even though he had reassured her that she shouldn’t care about how she felt, she felt she needed to reassure him that that wasn’t how she felt. Or something like that.

“James,” she said his name gently, and when his ocean blue eyes met hers, she spoke more sincerely than she intended. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m sure you are a good man. But I’m a lady, and I have a reputation to maintain. So does Sally. That’s why I couldn’t let her dance with you.”

“Well, we agree on one thing. Sally can’t dance with me. Jacob will be heartbroken. He’s smitten.”

Agreement. That’s what Joan liked to hear. “Perfect. We are in agreement then. We must show Sally that falling for Jacob is in her best interest. Or, at the very least, that falling for you is in her worst interest.”

“Ouch!” James’s hand gripped the fabric around his chest. “You wound me.”

“I doubt it. I’m sure you’ve heard worse.”

“True. So true,” he mumbled. James scanned the room and switched his drink to his other hand. He took a step back and leaned against a pillar to further obscure him from view. “What’s the plan? Shall we stage a rescue? Plot a scandal?”

“Why would we stage a rescue?”

“Don’t all women dream of being rescued by a strong, handsome man?”

Joan, in all her elegance, harrumphed at that. “I think not.”

“You’ve never dreamed of swooning and falling into the arms of a man you found attractive?”

Well, she wasn’t saying that …and sure, Sally had just expressed something eerily similar, but really…to think that all women did was wait around to be rescued…well, that was just…silly.

“Let’s discuss Sally, shall we?”

James laughed at her reply, counting it as a win of sorts. And really, it was.

“Sally needs some…encouragement. Jacob is a gentleman and a worthy eligible bachelor. If we can just shift her attention to him enough, I’m sure she’ll fall for him.”

“Yes. Proximity is the number one reason a couple falls in love in the first place.”

“It is?”

“Well, you can’t very well fall in love with a man you’ve never met or spoken to, can you?”

“I suppose not…though I’m sure somewhere some woman has.”

“Some woman somewhere is not most women everywhere. Let’s scheme according to the most likely rather than the exception, shall we?”

“Agreed.” Joan sipped her lemonade in thought. “Perhaps he can call on her tomorrow with flowers.”

“That’s average at best.”

“It’s the safe, predictable approach.”

“And where does safety get you?” he asked mockingly.

“It’s got me this far.”

James stared openly. In fact, he took that moment to stare at almost every inch of her. Down to her slippered feet, which he couldn’t see but she felt as though he could, and all the way up to the crown of her head. His perusal unnerved her.

“What are you looking at?”

“You.”

“Yes, but what are you looking for?”

“Your suitor.”

“You beast!” she almost swatted him, but held back. And then decided to swat him anyway. “I have had suitors.” A few. None that she had any interest in. None that had been of particular interest to anyone. And if she was being truthful, none that showed a unique interest in her.

“All I’m saying is that you’ve played it safe, and you have no suitors.”

Joan crossed her arms in defiance and her eyes began a steady crawl up and down his body. Trying not to notice how his thighs filled out his breeches. Or how his arms strained at the seams of his jacket. Or his broad shoulders. None of those things mattered. Especially not the slight bulge she caught sight of accidentally, causing her to blush. No. She was trying to make a point. If he could study her, then she could study him.

“What are you looking at?” She knew he would ask that, so she played her hand.

“You,” she said simply.

“And what are you looking for?”

“Your wife.”

He barked out a laugh. “Well played, Joan.” He chuckled again and wiped the mirth from his lips with a giant palm. Oooh! His hands were large. And smooth. “The difference is, I don’t want a wife.”

“That’s quite arrogant, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You’re saying that you don’t have a wife because you don’t want one. But you’re implying that you could have a wife the second you did want one.”

“Look at me, Joan.”

“I have.”

He chuckled. “I’m a duke. I’m handsome. I’m wealthy. Young. And respected enough. I guarantee you that if I wanted a wife I could have one from this very event, despite the small crowd.”

And she knew he was right. There was absolutely no point in arguing with him. No point. Whatever point she would make would be, well, pointless. She made it anyway.

“You might be able to find a wife, but that doesn’t mean you’d have love.”

He scoffed, and it irked her. “I don’t want that either.”

“You don’t want a wife?” He shook his head. “You don’t want love?” Another shake. “What about the dukedom?”

“That shall go to my cousin.”

“That’s just irresponsible.”

“Really? I think it’s rather the most responsible thing for me to do given my mother—”

But she didn’t let him explain.

“You’re reckless. You throw caution to the wind and don’t care if anything bad happens.”

His eyes darkened. “You’re overly cautious and you’re too worried about even the possibility of something bad happening.”

“You think everything is a joke.”

“You take everything too seriously.”

At this point, Joan was baffled and disoriented. How had she thought that there was any connection between them? The ability to successfully communicate across a room was pure luck. They were two completely different people. She wanted to put more space between them. “Your cologne is too strong.”

“I can hardly detect the lavender scent you’re using to entice the male population.”

“You probably spend your days drinking and gambling.”

“And riding.” He smirked. “And you probably spend your days reading.”

He wasn’t wrong. Again. The man was a nuisance.

“You obviously harbor resentment toward your mother, and my Mama always said that you could tell the character of a man by how he treats his mother.”

James's ocean blue eyes turned stormy, “Only a controlling and self-serving woman would say that.”

“I’d ask you not to speak ill of the dead.” Joan had stepped right in front of James, only a half of a foot between them. She was infuriated now.

But then James closed his mouth. She expected another retort. When he still said nothing, she supposed even a rake knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. But it wasn’t the words that spoke to her. It was his hand. His fingers had somehow found hers and were sweeping side to side over her knuckles. It was wildly inappropriate, but she couldn’t pull away. It was a tender gesture. Even his eyes had calmed.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not—”

“Let’s just discuss Sally and Jacob.”

“Fine.” And Joan wasn’t sure if he said the word in jest or not.

Joan took command of the conversation. “When the dance is done, we should greet them and explain how I needed a drink.” James nodded along, obviously placating her now. “And then we can suggest that Jacob pay her a call tomorrow. Perhaps go for a carriage ride.”

“Wait. What if she tries to wrangle me into a dance again?”

“She won’t.” The arrogance of this man. To think that Sally would act so contrary to societal norms and ask him for a dance. Again.

“But what if she does?”

“She won’t.” Joan said with vehemence. Really, the man needed to be knocked down a few pegs.

“How can you be so sure?”

“She just danced with a man completely besotted with her. Surely she felt something. I can’t see her being audacious enough to try again. Especially in front of Jacob.” Joan knew Sally. She was quiet. Shy. Of course she would fall for Jacob, she just needed to be placed in his arms for a dance.

“But she might…”

“She won’t.”

But then she did.