Page 5 of A Duke's Keeper
“You could always address me asYour Graceorthe esteemed Duke of Lux.”
The man was insufferable. “I’d rather eat my boot.”
Renardchuckled.
Chapter Two
“I’ve never beenin a brawl with a woman at my side,” Renard said. He spoke of brawls with the tone of a gentleman remarking on the weather.
Camille eyed his back. The moonlight must have been kind, for the lines of muscle across his shoulders looked lean and tight. “I notice you say, ‘Neverwith’ a woman and not ‘Neverover’ one.”
“Ah, yes. Well...” His boyish grin resurfaced. “Sainthood never appealed to me.”
That made two of them.
“You agree?” he asked.
Camille didn’t agree or deny. It took too much effort to keep up with his long strides. The ground underfoot was uneven and slippery from the rain earlier in the evening. Focusing on keeping on her feet around missing chunks of mortar, Camille skirted around the sunken patches of the alley where unidentifiable liquids pooled.
The cramped quarters of hovels stacked one on top of another grew scarcer, giving way to the industrial warehouses and factories—and the filth and stench they poured into the streets and water—that ran the length of the Thames. It was a place unfitting for dogs, let alone a finely dressed gentleman.
“Do you often walk alone in the middle of the night in dangerous neighborhoods, sir?” she asked, more to distract herself from the growing pain than from curiosity.
“Please, call me ‘Renard,’” he said. “After a good drink, I enjoy a stroll. One never knows when one will have an adventure with a beautiful woman in a dark alley.”
“Adventure.”
Camille’s belly filled with fire. Yes, for a moment, she’d forgotten. For her, the night’s ‘adventure’ would have had her beaten and ‘plucked,’ if not dead, in the gutter. What else would a bit of violence be to a young, rich man? Strong enough to defend himself from the lowbrow and entitled enough to command respect from on high.
“If looks could cut, I do believe I’d be fit to stand as a display in Mr. White’s ribbon shop,” he said.
She hated his wit. Her discrimination against theton, and men, may have been unfounded, but then again, experience made for excellent fodder. “It isn’t personal.”
“Your glare says otherwise. Is it my gentlemanly status that offends?”
“For starters.”
She remembered the name now. Lord Renard Louis, Duke of Lux. He’d inherited the title after his mother and father had tragically died in a fire at their country home. The story had been in the August paper eight years ago. She plucked the article from her mind, reading it behind her eyelids like a lightless poster:
Tragedy in the country!
A stable fire caught the Duke and Duchess of Lux unawares, leaving behind their only son, Renard Leopold Louis, to inherit the dukedom at the pivotal age of fourteen. With the new title comes the responsibility of his younger sister, Lady Charlotte Ann Louis, age ten.
Fourteen. Camille remembered the age. An ugly, helpless time in her life when she’d been too old to ignore the exploitation of another, older duke, and too young to do anything except obey. She put thoughts of her past away and let a wave of pain through to keep it at bay.
Eight years ago. That put Renard’s current age at two and twenty, a match to her own.
He turned and cocked his head to one side. “May I ask what other sin I’ve committed?”
“You’re charming.”
He huffed a laugh. “A capital offense, indeed.”
“And handsome.”
The moonlight played over his good-humored grin. “You can’t possibly hold that against me. I’ll be old and bald eventually.”
Camille didn’t believe for a second he wouldn’t grow more handsome and distinguished with age.
