More Than a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #2)(5)

“No.” Not per se.

He stretched out a hand. “Because I’ll not be caught in a compromising position and forced into a wedded state with one such as you.”

She ignored his offering and shoved herself to her feet. “With one such as me?”

“An impertinent, empty-headed young lady without a serious thought in—”

She jabbed a finger into his chest. He winced and she delighted in that slight twinge of discomfort from him. The cad. “I’ve had quite enough of your insults. I don’t like you any more than you like me, my lord.” She’d long tired of Society, her family, everyone’s rather low opinion of her. But she required his assistance and when one required help, it behooved them to set aside their pride.

“You have two minutes, my lady,” he bit out.

Her mind raced. How did a lady ask such a question as the one she’d put to him. There was no polite way to make a request as the one she intended to make—

“Your first minute is up, my lady,” he said, his voice heavy with annoyance.

Anne took a steadying breath and opted for direct honesty. “I’d like you to teach me how to seduce a man.”





Chapter 2


Henry Falston, the 6th Earl of Stanhope, known to polite Society and impolite society as Harry, had never considered his hearing faulty, and expected at thirty-years of age he had a good many years before his ears began to fail him. He stared at Lady Anne Adamson, the tart-mouthed miss he’d gone to great lengths to avoid this past year, certain he’d heard her incorrectly.

“Not just any man,” she went on, her cheeks turning pink.

Did the chit wear a perpetual blush?

“I’d like you to teach me how to seduce a specific gentleman.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Yes, it seemed he had heard the young lady right, after all. Harry studied her objectively. With Anne’s golden ringlets, fair skin and blue eyes, she easily fit with Society’s standard of a perfect, English beauty. She did not however, fit with the beauties he’d come to appreciate through the years, including her sister, the dark-haired, brown-eyed Lady Katherine, Duchess of Bainbridge, whom he’d tried to seduce last year. Tried and failed.

The gossip sheets reported Lady Anne to be both proper and pretty and not much more than that. In other words, a tedious bore he went to great pains to avoid.

Not that he wasn’t above a good flirtation, but not with this pert baggage.

“Will you not say something?” She stomped her foot more like a child in the nursery than a young woman he’d just kissed senseless.

A kiss that, if he were being truthful, had been somewhat captivating, and if he were to be entirely truthful with himself, a kiss he’d like to further explore. He violently shoved back such dangerous thoughts. “No.”

She frowned, seeming displeased with his curt reply.

He went on before she could continue pestering him. “One, as a friend of your sister, I’d never dare assist you in this mad scheme to trap some poor—”

“Not trap,” she said, shaking her head.

“—gentleman,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “Two,” he proceeded to tick off on his fingers. “You like me even less than I like you.”

“Ah, yes,” she wagged a finger under his nose. “But I’m reasonable enough to put aside my personal differences on matters of importance.”

“Three,” he caught her wrist. His large fingers encircled the delicate flesh. “Though you are passably pretty, I couldn’t even begin to drum up interest enough to help you.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Pleasantly.” She wrenched her hand free.

He furrowed his brow. What was she on about?

“The papers have called me pleasantly pretty.” Something in her tone hinted at a young woman who desired more than being gossiped about and ascribed labels by a judgmental ton.

He dragged a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell,” he cursed. The little termagant brought out the worst in him…and ladies didn’t ever bring out the worst in him. Not the young debutantes, not the eager widows, not even the frowning dowagers. Lady Anne, with her usual, reserved-for-him-frown and often-harsh words, on the other hand, did. “Forgive me,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”

She waved a hand. “You needn’t apologize for being truthful, my lord,” she said with far more somber maturity than he’d imagined her capable of. She held up her palms. “But I need help and I decided to enlist your aid first.”

First.

Which, of course implied there’d been a second gentleman whose aid she intended to seek out if, nay, when, he refused to take part in her imprudent plan.

If he’d been any other rogue, Harry suspected she’d be ruined by now with her skirts up, bodice lowered, as he instructed her on all the ways to seduce whomever it was she wanted to seduce.

Anne spoke softly, pulling him back to the moment. “You have a notorious reputation and I…” Her gaze skittered to a point beyond his shoulder.

Harry told himself not to ask. He really should send her on her way, back to the ballroom and forget she’d ever put the scandalous proposition to him. “And you what?” he asked, tersely.

She jumped. The color in her cheeks deepened. “And I thought as Katherine’s friend I could trust you with my request and also trust that you wouldn’t, er…” She fanned her cheeks. “You know.”