I Married the Duke Read Free Page A

“Will you take me to Saint-Nazaire?”
    “No.”
    Her jaw took on that determined little tilt that made Luc’s chest feel a bit odd.
    “Is it because I am a woman and you will not allow women aboard your vessel? I have heard that of pirates.”
    “Madam, I am not—”
    “If you are not a pirate, why do you cover your eye in that piratical manner? Is it an affectation to frighten off helpless women, or could you only find black cloth of that width and length?”
    Clever-tongued witch . She could not possibly be teasing him. Or flirting. Not this prim little schoolteacher.
    “As I believe the scar makes clear, it is not an affectation, Miss . . . ?”
    “Caulfield. Of London. I was recently in the personal service of a lady and gentleman of considerable status.” Her gaze flittered down his chest again. “Whom I don’t suppose you would know, actually. In any case, they employed me as a finishing governess for their daughter who is—”
    “A ‘finishing’ governess?”
    “It is the height of ill breeding to interrupt a lady, Captain Andrew.”
    “I believe you.”
    “What?”
    “That you are a governess.”
    Her eyes flashed—magnificent, wide, expressive eyes the color of wild cornflowers flooded with sunlight.
    “A finishing governess,” she said, “teaches a young lady of quality the proper manners and social mores for entering society and leads her through that process during her first season in town until she is established. But I don’t suppose you would know anything about manners or mores. Would you, captain?”
    Oh. No . Magnificent eyes notwithstanding, he needed a sharp-tongued virginal school mistress aboard his ship as much he needed a sword point in his left eye.
    He climbed to his feet. “Listen, Miss Whoever-You-Are, I don’t run a public transport ship.”
    “What sort of ship is it, then?”
    “A merchant vessel.”
    “What cargo do you carry?”
    “Grain.” To people who could not afford such cargoes themselves. “Now, I haven’t the time for an interrogation. I’ve a vessel to fit out for departure tomorrow.”
    With that jaunty tick of her chin, she darted around a chair and moved directly into his path. “You cannot frighten me with your scowl, Captain.”
    “I was not attempting to either frighten or scowl. It is this inconvenient affectation, you see.” He tapped his finger to his cheek and stepped toward her.
    She remained still but seemed to vibrate upon the balls of her feet now. She was a little slip of a thing, barely reaching his chin yet erect and determined.
    He couldn’t resist grinning. “You don’t look any taller to me standing on your toes, you know. I am uncowed.”
    Her heels hit the floor. “Perhaps you take pleasure in playing at notoriety with this pirate costume.”
    “Again with the pirate accusation.” He shook his head. “You see no hook on my wrist or parrot on my shoulder, do you? And I have all the notoriety I wish without pretending a part.” Heirs to dukedoms typically did, even Luc, despite his estrangement from his uncle. But now the latest letter from the duke’s steward sounded desperate; the fortunes of Combe were in jeopardy. However much he wished to help, Luc hadn’t the authority to alter matters there. He was not the duke yet. Given his young aunt’s interesting condition, he might never be.
    He closed the space between them. “As to the other matter, I take pleasure in a man’s usual amusements.” He allowed himself to give her a slow perusal. She was bound up snugger than a nun, in truth. But her lips were full, and her eyes . . .
    Truly magnificent. Breathtaking. Full of emotion and intelligence he had absolutely no need of in a woman.
    “I daresay,” she said. The magnificent cornflowers grew direct. “Name the price I must pay for you to give me passage to Saint-Nazaire and I will double it.”
    He scanned the cloak and collar. Pretty, yes. Gently bred, indeed. Governess to society debutantes, possibly.