Page 78 of The Viscount Who Vexed Me

“I thought that...” She stood up from her desk and clasped her hands together at her waist. “I thought that perhaps I might have said to you what I did—at the garden party, I mean, at which, I’m sure you recall, I really was quite awful—that I might have said the same in a less agitated manner.”

He’d thought her agitation was deserved. “You made your point very well. You said you’d not tread on eggs around me but it seems...it seems like perhaps you are, still?”

She stared at him. “I am, aren’t I?” Her shoulders sagged. “I don’t want to, but neither do I want to vex you.”

“On the contrary—I think I am the one vexing you. I don’t think you could ever be vexing, Hattie.”

She smiled wryly. “Oh, I think I could.” She pushed a stray tendril of hair from her face as she gazed at him. “Is it possible, do you think...that we might be friends?”

Friends.It was the last thing he wanted—or rather the first thing he wanted—but he wanted so much more. He thought of his mother, of his parliamentary council. He thought of every conceivable angle, but as no other option presented itself, he would cling to this notion. “Friends,” he reluctantly agreed.

She smiled. She extended her hand. He shook it. The agreement was made.

Hattie returned to her desk. But Mateo stood there, unmoving, for a long moment.Friendsleft a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was wrong, all wrong. He was the duke, he had responsibilities—but he was also a man.

An image of his father’s unsmiling face suddenly loomed.

“My lord?”

Borerro’s voice cut through the silence in the room. Mateo turned to the door where his butler had come in with the day’s post. Mateo walked across the room to receive it, and Borerro went out, leaving the door open behind him.

Mateo looked at Hattie. He couldn’t stand there like this, dithering about feelings that were too complicated to sort. He decided he would test their friendship. “May I ask you something? As a friend?”

“Of course.” She put down her pen and turned in her seat.

“What do you think of Miss Raney? As a match?”

Hattie blinked her perfectly blue eyes. “I, ah...”

“Forgive me. I shouldn’t have asked.” What a ridiculous thing to have done. He was trying to douse his feelings with stupid questions. He turned back to his desk.

“She’s a good person, Teo,” Hattie said. He paused. “She always means well, and she always tries her best.”

He glanced at Hattie over his shoulder. “I see.”

“You can’t possibly see, not really.”

He turned to face her. “I can’t?”

She shook her head. “That’s the problem with our society, isn’t it? We’re hardly able to know anyone before we’re engaged.” She glanced away from him, and he assumed she was thinking of her broken engagement. “Flora is my friend. We attended school together. She is kind, and she can make me laugh. And I think she is a good friend. I never told anyone this,” she said quietly, “but it was Flora who told me what no one else would. That my fiancé’s feelings had changed.”

He sank onto the arm of the settee. “That must have been difficult to hear.”

“It was, indeed. But...but my point is that she would be a good match for you. She has many admirable qualities.”

But could he ever love her?

Hattie looked at her lap. “Are you close to making an offer?”

Mateo sighed. Was he? “I don’t believe I will have the option to leave England without a match. Not if I want peace with my family. Or with my duchy. Or with my parliament.”

She nodded. “Then I think she would make you an excellent match. You couldn’t possibly do better.”

Oh, but he could do better. For himself, he could do so much better. He’d never contemplated having to choose between his heart and his duty—he’d always assumed the two would align.

His father had once called him naive. Maybe he was.

But what Mateo knew was that the best match for him—here, in Santiava, in the world—was this woman. Hattie was refreshingly honest. And fascinating. She was attractive and alluring, her disposition nearly perfect. He had never in his life been so enchanted by a woman as he was by her. He thought about their kiss often. He thought about how much more he wanted from her.