Page 5 of The Duke’s Hellion (Duke Dare #3)

H ad he honestly just arm wrestled a woman?

What in the world had made him think that was a good idea?

There was no winning against a lady in an arm wrestle.

He either won, because, well, really, he was a man and was significantly stronger than her.

Or he lost and she would know it was because he let her win.

Because, again, his biceps. He shouldn’t have to explain it to himself, yet he needed the reminder.

Why, of all the activities that she could have picked, had she chosen an arm wrestle?

And why couldn’t he just say no? In the moment, it had felt ridiculous, but something about her was hard to resist. Not in any one particular way…

just in general. There was something about her that caused him to react, and apparently that included agreeing to arm wrestles.

Maybe he was too irked from losing against her in archery.

His mind was a mess. But he had done what he needed to in order to put rest to the worries about his cousin.

His most important possessions were locked up safely at Chris’s estate.

No one knew about that, and even if they did, no one knew what he had or where he was stashing it.

So, even though having his maleficent cousin at his own house was unnerving, it wasn’t really worrisome.

And it wouldn’t be until he returned home.

At most, it should feel like a problem for another day.

He was even hoping that by the time he returned home, his cousin would have left.

Of course, that was probably too hopeful.

For all intents and purposes, he should not have such a scrambled mind. But even though Sam wanted to blame his loss and subsequent poor decision-making on external factors, it was a weak connection at best.

Perhaps his mind was just scrambled because of Mimi.

All of their encounters were laden with conflict.

They rubbed each other the wrong way. He went up, and she went down.

Uh…that was a weird way of saying it. Regardless, they were like oil and water.

They were too competitive with themselves and others to be of any good to each other.

She was loud and independent, and he was…

well, he was just selfish. He didn’t want to be with anyone, so why the hell was he putting so much thought into it?

She pulled him one way or the other and stretched his patience.

So really, because he knew she was at this house party rather unchaperoned, all he needed to do was make sure she didn’t do any irreparable damage around him. She was a friend of sorts after all.

Now, the question was…who would she be more likely to do that irreparable damage to?

Herself or others? Because it certainly wouldn’t be done to Sam.

He was much too conscientious and callous to let a little thing like her affect him in any negative way.

She wasn’t reckless, so if anything, she would do damage to herself.

And based on everything he knew about her so far, that damage would likely be made against her reputation.

So yes, he had his work cut out for him since she had no one else to look out for her.

“What the devil was that about?” Chris asked as the two entered the drawing room for tea. It was about time to join the house party and see a few guests, namely their host.

“I have no idea,” Sam replied, rubbing his hand.

There was no pain in it from the arm wrestling.

Arm wrestle? He was still in a state of shock that he had arm wrestled a woman.

Well, it was less of an arm wrestle and more of a show.

He knew he was going to win. He easily sized up her biceps before the activity had even been suggested.

“Did she think she could beat you?” Chris’s face was half writ with concern and curiosity.

“I doubt it.”

“Then why did she suggest it?”

“She’s an oddity. That’s for sure.” Oddity. That wasn’t even the right word to describe her. She was uniquely her. No apologies. No shame. And often no explanations.

Sam entered the room, immediately taking notice of several guests milling about. Sally, their hostess’s daughter, was drinking tea in the middle of a pack of eager single ladies. Yes. There was a caution sign sticking out of the dirt right in front of that section of the room.

Note to Sam, avoid that coterie at all costs.

He could hear the honey dripping from the lips as they asked about wedding plans, if the groomsmen were bachelors (which they were supposed to be), and as a side note, what flowers she had decided upon.

If he didn’t feel obligated as a friend to be at the wedding, he wouldn’t be attending.

He didn’t even plan on attending a wedding of his own, why would he want to attend someone else’s?

Sam’s eyes continued their prowl of the room and landed on the Duke of Vanic.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen Roger.

” There was a man who was another oddity of sorts, but in a completely different way.

How did one describe Roger? Usually one would start with a person’s unique attributes…

well, that was part of the problem. Roger was the epitome of average or commonplace.

Conversation with him could be stilted…or boring at best. But anything beat wedding talk.

“Let’s greet the old boy,” Chris agreed, taking steps toward the mantelpiece where Roger was resting his hand.

“Vanic, where does a man find a good drink in here?”

Roger nodded to the footman who had just entered the room carrying a tray. “Thank God, not everyone is here for tea.”

Chris snagged two glasses and shared one with Sam.

Ah, yes…and there was the silence. The awkwardness. Roger sipped his drink looking at nothing in particular. Probably thinking of nothing in particular. And for those reasons, Sam had nothing in particular he wanted to say to the man.

Alas, his options were limited. Roger had always been the man that was invited for the indiscreet purpose of making up numbers, and of course, he was a duke, so that always helped.

The man was amiable enough…but was being amiable enough really what a person strove for in life?

The man walked around like the color beige.

Noticeable only if one was looking for beige, otherwise he blended into his surroundings.

And then he remembered one thing about Vanic that was mildly interesting.

“How’s your hand been at archery? Any tournaments of late?”

The small twitch of Roger’s eyebrow indicated his attention had shifted to Sam. From what…he wasn’t sure.

“I’m always practicing. No tournaments recently. But hopefully soon.”

That was a little bit more than Sam expected, but much less than a man would hope for in a conversation.

“What kind of bow do you use?”

“Same as always.”

Yes…there was the enthralling conversation, free flowing…Just when Sam thought he would have to think of more to ask, Roger supplied more information.

“Bought an incredible quiver the other day. Last of its kind. I’m hoping to break it in soon.” His eyes almost shone as he spoke about his purchase.

But then no questions were asked to either Sam or Chris. This was definitely a one-sided effort.

Sam took another sip of his drink letting Chris pick up the riveting dialogue. The slight burn tickled its way down his throat, and a prickling sensation crept up the back of his neck. He let his eyes roam the room again and caught sight of Mimi. She was staring at him. Curious, that.

He had never caught her gaze on him like this before.

He shifted on his feet and transferred his glass to his other hand.

Wanting to look away but not out of discomfort, he held her stare for a second longer.

Then another. When her eyes didn’t flicker, he realized the truth.

She wasn’t staring at him, she was studying Roger.

Roger, Duke of Vanic, had captured her attention. The most wild, opinionated woman that he knew was ogling the most boring, underwhelming man of his acquaintance.

Well…

Hmm…

Sam took another sip to make it appear as though everything was normal and that he wasn’t trying to swallow the odd-shaped reality he could see forming before his very eyes and then feel forming in his throat. He nearly choked on the small sip he took.

Chris patted him hard on the back. A splutter. A cough.

And then an actual eye from Mimi rested upon him. Except it wasn’t the same curious—one might even say dreamy—eye that had befallen Vanic.

No, Sam was not the recipient of such an eye. He received the raised-to-the-roof brow, questioning his most basic competencies. Drinking.

Losing in archery to a woman who closed both of her eyes. Beating said woman in an arm wrestle. Choking on his drink in front of said woman. This was not his morning. Surely, the house party could not get any worse. It was only up from here on out.

“Do you think it’s going to rain this week?” That was the brilliant question Chris was asking Roger while Sam collected his bearings.

He was not one to be easily rattled. So what if the morning wasn’t going as he had planned. It was not important. All that mattered was how he reacted to it and chose to move forward.

Not willing to take another sip quite yet, Sam exchanged hands with the drink again.

He took a quick glance up at Mimi, discreetly, but she was back to observing Roger.

And this time, Sam allowed himself to take a longer look at her, and he could see that she was plotting.

He didn’t know how, but he could just tell that her mind was concocting some grand scheme, and it involved Roger.

Sam slapped Roger on the back, jostling him out of the rain conversation. “God, I hope you’re ready for this house party.”

Roger and Chris gave Sam a dubious look.

The kind of look a person gave a man when they completely understood the words he was saying but not the meaning or the timing of them.

He may as well have said that there was a rooster in the room strutting about.

Yes, a cock trying to prove himself. But whose?

Well, someone was strutting. It was Mimi. She was headed straight toward them, Nobi in tow with slightly widened eyes.

Mimi’s eyes on the other hand looked dreamy, or was that cloudy? Upon closer inspection, Sam couldn’t be sure.

Regardless, it looked as though a storm of some kind was brewing, and rain was surely in the forecast. In hindsight, that weather conversation was quite apropos.

Mimi opened her mouth to speak forming the shape of an O , when Chris jumped in. “It’s going to be such a lovely wedding, isn’t it?” Not exactly the most manliest of conversation topics, but Sam didn’t want to be a picky beggar at this point.

“Indeed,” Nobi replied.

“And how proud are you that Joan and James played such an integral role in uniting the bride and groom?” Chris asked to further the conversation.

Nobi nodded her agreement. Mimi piped up, “We all played a role in it.”

“Oh?” Sam challenged her with one word, and he could see the defiance rise up within her like a squall.

“Yes. We did. Isn’t that right, Nobi?” She nudged her sister but didn’t wait for any form of affirmation before plowing on. “Someone needed to spread the gossip about Jacob’s…status..to pique Sally’s interest.”

“So you were the origin of all the salacious tidbits?” Sam asked.

Mimi’s cheeks turned red but she obviously ignored the embarrassment, for she continued to trod forward. “Not all of them, actually,” she narrowed her gaze at him, “just the good pieces.”

He could have sworn he saw her wink to punctuate her last sentence, but really, he had to doubt that. Didn’t he?

While Sam stood stupefied—though hopefully not obviously—Chris filled in. “We’re just happy to see a happy couple.” An elbow bumped into his kidney. “Aren’t we?”

“So happy,” Sam mumbled. “Delighted.”

Roger had been silent, as per his usual, for the entire conversation, so Sam appreciated when he finally did speak.

“Well, it stands to reason that with happy people we shall have a diverting house party,” Roger summarized.

“Excuse me.” And with that, he quit the group in search of another drink.

Or another conversation. It didn’t matter.

Roger was not an easily stimulated or amused fellow, so the fact that he thought something was going to be amusing was terrifying to Sam. Most assuredly, terrifying. A shiver ran down his back.

“Mimi, shall we take some tea?” Nobi spoke the words as a suggestion, but they sounded like a plea.

“I think that’s a… delightful idea.” Oh.

The chit was mocking him. He shouldn’t be surprised.

She wasn’t the type to hold back, and she had certainly mocked him before.

But the way she said delightful… he couldn’t erase the tone from his ears, and for a split second he wondered what she might truly find delightful.

“If that’s what you want, you should do it.” Perhaps it was an odd thing to say, but in the moment, Sam knew that nothing could convince him to sit at the table and drink tea talking about weddings, flowers, and love.

“You’ll see soon enough, Duke,” Mimi leaned in to say. “I always get what I want.”

Yes. That was the appropriate word for what was about to manifest. Terrifying.