Instead, Sebastian said, “She must have broad hips.”
“I beg your pardon?” Dax nearly choked on his whiskey.
“Hips. I expect her to have a body well built for breeding. I must ensure the continuation of the line after all, and what better way than to acquire a wife with good hips for birthing.”
Dax cleared his throat, feeling Sebastian’s criteria fall too closely to his own. After all, Dax sought a wife with plain features. What more was it to require one with hips adequate for birthing babies?
But hearing the words from Sebastian brought a sour taste to Dax’s mouth.
He shook his head. “I suppose adequate hips is a sensible choice.”
Sebastian made a noise of agreement. “Of course, it is. I would choose a filly for her bloodlines. Why would I not choose a woman with the biological make up in favor of healthy birthing?”
“You’re comparing the future Duchess of Waverly to a stud horse?”
“The mare actually,” Sebastian corrected. “But yes, I can see the analogy.”
Dax studied his friend for several seconds. They had been at Eton together, and their fathers had passed at nearly the same time so they entered Parliament sessions nearly together. Sebastian had always been rather dry and calculating, but since his father’s death…well, he’d grown cold somehow. Again, Dax recalled how people often found him rude and crass, but it wasn’t that at all. Unfortunately, it was something far more complicated.
Dax took a sip of his whiskey. “Have you found any of this season’s debutantes to your liking?”
“I must say it’s been a rather disappointing year.”
Mandricks appeared then with a glass for Sebastian and fresh whiskey for Dax. Both men nodded their thanks and waited for Mandricks to retreat before speaking.
“I take it you have not found anyone suitable,” Sebastian said after taking a sip of his own drink.
Dax wondered briefly how much to tell Sebastian. He studied his friend. Sebastian hadn’t been there the night of Dax’s humiliation. The previous Duke of Waverly had passed away suddenly, and there were several months where Dax had lost contact with his school chum. He wondered what had happened to his friend in those dark months, and all too clearly, he recalled the boy who had raced the ball fields with him at Eton.
Sebastian watched him carefully, his face impassive, and Dax suddenly realized Sebastian would likely be the very person to understand his plan.
“I’m seeking a plain wife,” Dax said.
Sebastian tapped a finger against his glass. “A plain wife? You mean one of unfortunate visage?”
Dax gave a sharp nod, and the guilt of betrayal whispered through him.
Sebastian seemed to consider this for a moment as his gaze drifted upwards.
“I can see how such an attribute in a wife could be advantageous. You’d need never be concerned about being cuckolded.”
Dax winced at the word.
“Ah,” Sebastian said. “Attempting to avoid a repeat of the past, I see.”
Dax gave a short nod, and Sebastian dropped his foot to the ground and leaned forward.
“You believe by selecting a plain wife you can avoid the public embarrassment you received at the hands of Lady Bethany Walpole?”
“The Marchioness of Isley, you mean.”
Sebastian’s laugh was dry. “Marchioness. I suppose she is now.”
Dax studied the fire, but he could feel his friend’s stare. He wondered if he could speak the truth. He was perfectly fine with his desires privately, but somehow speaking them aloud made them dangerous. But Sebastian would not think him cruel. Of all people, Sebastian would be the most likely to understand.
“I seek a plain wife so as to avoid emotional entanglement.”
“You don’t want to be in danger of falling in love with your wife.”
Dax turned sharply to study his friend. Sebastian’s words carried the same meaning but with it, a cutting sting as well.
“Yes,” Dax answered simply.
Sebastian straightened. “And you think by marrying a woman of unfortunate visage you will not be tempted to love her?”
“Exactly.”
Sebastian scoffed, and Dax started at the noise, sloshing whiskey in his glass. He stared at his friend who was shaking his head.
“You believe emotions are tied to a person’s physical appearance?”
Dax’s mind traveled immediately to an image of Bethany with her long, luscious golden curls, her bright eyes, and wide smile, the way her hips perfectly filled his hands, the exquisite curve of bosom and bottom.
He blinked, destroying the image.
“Yes, I would say love is most acutely tied to one’s physical attraction to another person.”
Sebastian knocked back the last of his whiskey and set the glass down on the table between the chairs.
“One has absolutely nothing to do with the other.” He pointed a finger so as to articulate his point. “Emotions are biological nonsense. You can’t trust how you will feel from one moment to the next based on mere physical appearance. Beauty is fleeting whereas personality lasts forever.”
The muscles along the back of Dax’s neck tightened with a trickle of dread.
“Personality?”
Sebastian stood, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt under his jacket.
“Yes, personality. Personality is predictable.” He gestured to Dax. “I supposed I’m the only person to whom you have spoken your desire to marry an unfortunate looking woman.”
Dax stood. He wasn’t about to have this conversation while seated.
“You are. How do you figure that?”
Sebastian shrugged carelessly. “You obviously assumed I would agree with such a heartless plan, because I’m—what does society call me? The Beastly Duke?” Again the careless shrug. “I am not pretending to be otherwise, but in this matter, you’ve simply made a grievous miscalculation.”
Dax pulled on his own cuffs, irritation making him agitated.
“And what miscalculation is that?”
Sebastian leaned in. “If you wish to avoid falling in love with your wife, you must marry someone with a deplorable personality.” His smile was cold as he straightened. “As always, it’s interesting running into you, Dax. Do give my regards to your mother.”
Dax raised a hand in acknowledgment as Sebastian retreated back through the smoky rooms of the club toward the front entry.
He sat heavily then, his eyes unable to focus on anything but the two empty glasses on the table before him. The ghost of Eliza’s hesitant, unschooled kiss passed over his lips like a caress, and his stomach flipped.
Eliza’s unexpected wit.
Her uncompromising loyalty to her dog.
Her perplexing and vacillating nature.
Dear God, he was in a great deal of danger.
Chapter 4
Eliza was aware of the mating process of dogs. This, however, did not prepare her for her sister’s unexpected arrival in her rooms the morning of her wedding to discuss with Eliza exactly what would be expected of her that evening.
Eliza held up a hand when Viv’s lips thinned and her eyes took on a motherly softness.
“I’m quite informed when it comes to what will be expected of me this evening as the wife of the Duke of Ashbourne.”