What a Duke Wants Read Free

Still, it was not the done thing to allow one’s servants to be insulted.
    “I am sure the man had his reasons for his behavior. You must have not understood.”
    Miss Smith stepped toward him. A second fist had joined the first in waving through the opening of her cloak. Her mouth started to open, but then she shut it. Palpable weariness spread from her. She bent her head until her chin disappeared within the folds of her cloak. A soft, pleasant hum whispered out. She turned from him and began to walk away with that enchanting sway—a sway that had a very different meaning now that he knew what she held. She walked all the way to the door of the stable. Her posture stiffened and he could tell she was deciding whether to face the dark interior or to turn back toward him.
    She turned.
    And strolled, and swayed.
    She drew level to him. He could see she was biting tight down on her lip. “I am not mistaken. I know exactly what that man said.”
    She walked past him again and turned sharply on her heels when she reached the inn. The child was quieting and her sway was becoming more of a march.
    She passed him again and said, “He evidently believes that having a livery more grand than any I’ve seen gives him rights over us lesser beings.”
    Yes, it had definitely been Divers.
    She reached the wall of the stable.
    Came back again. “All I can say is that Strattington must believe he’s quite the duke, to expect that babies and roosters will fall silent for him.”
    Mark watched as she passed. He wished he could explain the true problem to her: he still wasn’t quite sure he believed he was a duke at all.

Chapter 2
    S he knew she was saying too much. Isabella wished she could stay quiet. Her whole life would have been so much simpler if only she’d been able to keep her lips closed. Of course she’d never been able to and it didn’t seem like she was going to start now when her thoughts felt soggier than toast soaked in tea.
    Slipping a glance out of the corner of her eye, she debated whether the man was angered by her words. He was every bit as much the duke’s man as the one in the fine braid who’d sent her out into the night. She must remember that. His shoulders had drawn back at her last whispered outburst, but he didn’t seem unduly distressed. His lips were more tightly pressed than previously, but it was hard to be sure. If only he’d step out of the shadows. The night was dark enough that even with the dim light of the moon full upon him it would have been hard to see. If he stayed hidden beneath the eaves of the stable it was nigh impossible.
    At least he seemed unrelated to her pursuers. He had not tried to grab her or whispered her real name from the shadows. He had not demanded that she turn “it” over and then disappeared before she even knew what “it” was. If the fatigue did not kill her, then the constant worry would.
    She turned back to him, her tone sharper than she intended. “What’s your name? You didn’t say. It was rude to ask me and not supply your own.” She couldn’t go on thinking of him as “the man.” It was only proper that she learn his name. She probably didn’t need to add the bit about his lack of manners, but once again her lips were moving faster than her brain.
    The wall of the inn loomed before her and she turned neatly, a bit of extra rock-and-sway as Joey wiggled slightly against her breast. It wouldn’t do at all if he began to scream again. She still had some hope of making it to her bed for at least an hour or two. She needed rest if she was to decide the next step in her life. Perhaps Joey would slumber late in the morning and she’d have a chance for a bit of extra sleep herself. If Mrs. Wattington heard there was a duke at the inn she’d probably delay her own departure, and Isabella might even manage a waking hour without Joey attached to her hip. She wasn’t sure she even knew how to stand upright without him anymore.
    “Do you always ask