“I must be off,” Cecilia said. “I’ve much to do.” She looked toward Juno with slightly widened eyes, her head tilting infinitesimally toward the duke in silent communication that Juno should speak with him. Or something.
The duke stepped out of the way as Cecilia departed.
“I imagine she’s planning another tedious event for the morrow.” His mouth slashed into a frown as his thick brows gathered.
Juno had suffered enough of his eternal disdain. Moving toward him, she threw her shoulders back and puffed up her chest as she sought to mimic him. “I hate house parties and picnics, and I’m the grumpiest man alive.” She pouted up at him, then bared her teeth, lowering her voice even more to a harsh rasp. “But I’m a duke, so I can behave like an ass and get away with it.”
His eyes rounded. He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. “I don’t sound like that.”
“You sound exactly like that.” Juno relaxed her shoulders.
“I don’t say things like that. The ass part. I know I said I hated house parties.”
“Just because you haven’t yet said the ass part doesn’t mean you won’t.”
“You think you know me so well?”
“I think you’re a shallow, predictable, surly curmudgeon. Perhaps you’re more than that, but you won’t let anyone see.” She adopted her best rigid-duke growl. “I don’t need to be pleasant or kind, so I won’t. Not even to woo a wife.” She stared at him with as much disdain as she could muster, then rolled her eyes for good measure. Satisfied that she felt better even if he never understood her point, she stepped around him to leave.
“That was actually pretty good,” he murmured from behind her as she sailed from the dining room.
There was a note of appreciation in his tone that gave her hope. Perhaps tonight would go better than the promenade at the picnic. If it didn’t, she wasn’t sure the match would happen, regardless of Lady Wetherby’s insistence.
Dare wasn’t surprised to find himself seated next to Lady Marina again at dinner that evening. However, he was rather speechless—and not because he chose to remain stoic, which was typical—when Mrs. Langton sat on his other side. Still, the first course nearly passed in complete silence among them.
“Why aren’t you speaking with Lady Marina?” Mrs. Langton’s urgent whisper caught him off guard.
He turned his head to find she was much closer than he’d realized. She’d leaned toward him to deliver her query.
“She’s quite focused on her soup,” he murmured in response. A glance toward Lady Marina reaffirmed his assessment. She’d yet to make eye contact with him at all and had barely uttered good evening when she’d sat down.
“Don’t take her shyness for disinterest,” Mrs. Langton said brightly, still keeping her voice low. She looked at him expectantly, a smile hovering about her lush, kissable mouth.
Kissable?
Dare cleared his throat and snapped his attention back to his soup. A moment later, he tried to engage Lady Marina. “How do you find the turtle soup?”
“Tolerable.” Her gaze didn’t so much as flick toward his. Or anywhere except her soup.
Frowning, he set down his spoon and pondered whether it was worth his time to bother trying again.
“You could ask her about the wine,” Mrs. Langton suggested.
“What about it?” he asked in a low growl.
“You aren’t very adept at conversation, are you?”
He couldn’t help shooting her a suffering glance. “No worse than your charge.”
“She’s shy.” Mrs. Langton blinked, her long lashes shuttering her eyes briefly. “Are you?”
“No. I merely prefer not to engage with most people.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I rarely meet anyone worth speaking with.”
She exhaled. “Not shy but boorish. Are you looking for a duchess or not? Ask her about the wine,” she prodded.
The footman removed the course, and while they laid the next, Dare tried again. Turning his head toward Lady Marina, he willed her to look at him. Did he think he was some sort of sorcerer that he could control her movements? He turned a snort into another growl. Unintentionally, that had the effect of provoking her to glance at him.
“Is the wine to your liking?” he asked, thinking this had to be the dullest, most painful, most inane conversation he’d ever had. No, it wasn’t even a conversation since she wasn’t participating.
“I can’t say.”
“Haven’t you tried it?”
“No.” She reached for her glass and took a delicate sip.
He noted the flash of distaste in her eyes and the slight wrinkle of her nose. “You don’t care for it.”
“It’s rather sweet.”
Their plates were set before them, effectively interrupting their nascent dialogue.
Mrs. Langton leaned close again, tempting Dare with her orange-and-lily scent. “You could ask what she likes to read. That should launch a lively discussion.”
Tempting? Dare thought of their brief encounter that afternoon when she’d mocked him, lowering her voice to match his and thrusting her shoulders back to puff up her chest. Unfortunately, the action didn’t make her appear larger or more substantial like him. It had drawn his attention to her rather perfectly curved torso, most notably her full breasts. Perhaps it hadn’t been unfortunate after all.
That she’d teased him had stuck with him ever since. No one mocked him. Ever. Not even at school, where everyone was mocked.
Yet, Mrs. Langton talked to him in ways no one did. She looked at him with open hostility and agitation, all while continuing to smile and cajole him—in the name of her charge. She was utterly beguiling.
If only Lady Marina possessed even a fraction of her companion’s energy, Dare would have no problem offering for her. She did not, however. He watched her as she gingerly ate a green bean. Her features were blank, and he wondered if they were schooled that way or if she was just completely devoid of emotion or reaction.
“Does she ever smile?” he asked Mrs. Langton, shocking himself. He hadn’t really meant to share the thought aloud. Since when did he care about smiling?
“Do you?” Mrs. Langton countered.
“Touché.” He tamped back a smile.
“Perhaps you and Marina should find equal ground there. You ought to have realized by now that you’ve much in common.”
He supposed they were similar in demeanor. Turning his head once more, he took in her dark hair and pale, slender neck. She was an attractive woman, but he wasn’t moved by her. There was no…spark.
“Do I trouble you, Lady Marina?” he asked softly.
Her head turned so sharply, he jerked, which caused her to flinch in return. “No.” She immediately returned her attention to her pheasant.
Dare took the unsubtle hint and attacked his plate in earnest, ignoring both women despite being incredibly aware of Mrs. Langton. It was silly, but there was a heat to her that surrounded him. He reached for his wine.
“You really should ask her about books,” Mrs. Langton persisted.
Dare downed the contents of his glass. “If you’re so intent on seeing us matched, perhaps you should speak with her about how to engage with a gentleman she wishes to snare in the parson’s trap.”