Page 29 of If the Duke Demands

He froze, the laughter dying away. “Point taken,” he admitted, then cleared his throat. “But no one sees you as a child, Miranda. We just don’t know what to make of you.”

His comment pricked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for one, you never sit still. You wear a man out just watching you. You’re excited about every new experience, seeing every day as a new adventure—”

“It is.” She stared blankly at him, not comprehending his point. Life was meant to be lived, to be embraced. Her parents’ deaths taught her that. No matter thatheseemed to have forgotten that since he inherited. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Except that so few people have that, that no one knows what to do with you.”

“Including you, apparently,” she accused with a peeved sniff.

He quirked a brow. “Especiallyme.”

No, he knew exactly what to do…blackmail her for her slippers in exchange for good behavior. Although, she would have to admit, her London season was going remarkably well, most likely due to his influence and supervision. And he’d honored their agreement, going out of his way to help her with Robert, even if all their attempts had so far come to nothing. She owed him that much credit, at least. But she’d certainly never admit it to him.

“You have a nice laugh,” she acknowledged softly instead, giving up completely on the orange and setting it aside. She sucked the drops of juice from her fingers. “You should laugh more often.”

“Thank you,” he murmured huskily.

When she looked over at him, her fingertips still at her lips, she caught him watching her, his eyes glued to her mouth. A heat flashed over his face so intense that she shivered. That same tingling from the night of the masquerade began to stir faintly inside her, and her pounding heart leapt into her throat. When his eyes lifted slowly to hers and held her pinned beneath his gaze, the tingle blossomed into a full-out ache.

“You’re welcome,” she breathed, her eyes never leaving his. She simply didn’t have the willpower to look away. And a very confused, increasingly warm and tingly part of her didn’t want to. Did he feel that, too? Was he just as confused as she was? Gathering her courage, she asked in a whisper, “The night of the masquerade when I was in your room, did you want— That is, have you thought—”

“Are you enjoying London?” he asked abruptly, tearing his gaze away and sitting up.

She blinked, her question choking on her lips. He’d interrupted her before she could ask if he ever thought about that night, about what they did—about what they’dnearlydone. Because she still did, almost every night since, wondering what would have happened if she’d not made that slip of her tongue and unwittingly revealed herself.

She had to pause a moment to digest both the sudden change in conversation and the sudden change in him. But then, it was simply Sebastian returning to his duke-like self, wasn’t it? The surprise, she supposed, was having for a few moments the concerned, sympathetic man who had listened to her about her frustrations over Robert and who understood the ghosts in her past. And who for a moment felt free enough to laugh.

“Yes, very much,” she answered, ignoring the peculiar pang of disappointment in her chest. “A marvelous time, in fact.”

“Good to hear.” But nothing in the tone of his voice concurred with his words.

“And you?” The devil inside her couldn’t help but ask, “Have you found any women to marry?”

He grimaced. “Good lord, you make it sound like a harem.”

She laughed, which only caused his frown to deepen and her laughter to grow at his expense. “It is—the English equivalent, anyway. It’s the marriage market, and you’re a duke.” She shrugged. “Most likely, youcouldhave a harem of women trailing after you if you let yourself.”

“I am not letting myself,” he countered with an indignant scowl.

Robert’s parting words came back to her. “But you’ve made a list.”

He gave a curt nod. “A list is always helpful in making important decisions.”

“I’m certain,” she agreed with mock solemnity, fighting back the twitch at her lips.

He shot her a sideways glare that choked away all the laughter. Apparently, his search for a wife was not a matter of amusement.

She cleared her throat. “I will help you however I can, of course.” They’d kept to their agreement, with Sebastian assisting her as much as he could with Robert and Miranda telling him whatever insights she’d gained from retiring room gossip and otheron ditat the events she’d attended. So far, it seemed that every eligible lady in London was all aflutter that the Duke of Trent was seeking a wife this season. Including Lady Jane Sheridan. “So Lady Jane is on your list.”

“Yes.” His gaze traveled across the park to find the earl’s lovely daughter still standing with her delicate parasol beside the pond, smiling serenely and chatting with Robert and Miss Morgan. “She has all the right qualities for a duchess.”

“I see.” Miranda frowned as she studied the woman. All the right qualities…Odd that she’d never before considered that a duchess should possessqualities. She’d simply thought they only needed to be loved, the way his father had loved his mother.

“She’s the daughter of an earl, of an old title and a well-respected family,” he commented, as if justifying his choice. “She’ll know her role, both in society and in our marriage.”

She bit her lip. Yes, Lady Jane was certainly all that, and more. She would undoubtedly make a fine Duchess of Trent.