Page 65 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
“True. You’re the most eligible bachelor in England. Some distant ancestor of an earl wouldn’t dare refuse you,” Jameson said.
“Not a distant ancestor,” Matthew said pointedly. “A niece.”
“Still,” Jameson said.
“A proposal,” Cole griped. “A goddamn proposal. You’re falling—willingly, no less—straight into the parson’s mousetrap.”
Matthew looked at his friends who were still frozen to the spots where they’d been standing when he’d dropped the P-word. Then he looked around the boathouse. The boats needed to be rinsed, the floor needed to be cleaned, the items scattered over the floor needed to be returned to their proper places. “Well, at this rate, we’ll be here all night. If you lot want to go to Vauxhall Gardens tonight, let’s get to it, shall we?”
Cole shook his head morosely. “It’s just…we… We’re going to lose you.”
“Don’t be dramatic. You won’t lose me.”
“But you won’t be the same.”
“Cole’s right,” Jameson groused. “Something about wives. They get under a man’s skin. Change him.” His face went dark. “I don’t like it.”
Winthrop clapped him on the shoulder. “You should marry, too, then, Jameson. God knows you could use a change. Maybe it would wipe that glower from your face.”
“Doubtful.” Jameson spun away from all of them, stomped to the corner, and took the broom from its peg.
As he stacked the clean towels he’d brought from home into their cabinet, Matthew remembered a time when they’d all been young and at Eton. He’d been twelve or thirteen when the four of them had agreed that girls were tender, tedious creatures. All they did was sit primly in their frills and lace, usually indoors, and prattle on about ribbons and bows. And if they got a little scratch on their arms or a bruise on their knee, they’d weep for hours. Matthew, Jameson, Cole, and Winthrop had each vowed never to speak to a girl, much less marry one.
Now, Matthew was on the cusp of doing just that—again.
As they cleaned, Cole asked him, “What is she like?”
Determined,stubborn,andstrongwere the first words to pop into his mind. Many others followed, likebeautiful,sensual, andsweet.
Wait. Cole had meant “she,” as in Harriet Cherrington, not Jo.
“She’s accomplished, engaging, and polite,” he told them.
“What does she think about this?” Cole gestured to one of the boats with the oar he’d been rinsing.
She’s interested in trying it herself, Matthew thought.
“We haven’t discussed it,” Matthew said.
Jameson raised a brow as he swept the dust outside but didn’t say a word.
“And what of your obsession with meteorology?” Winthrop asked.
She’s fascinated by it as well, Matthew thought.
“We have discussed the weather often,” Matthew said.
Of coursehe and Miss Cherrington had discussed the weather often. All Londoners did. But when he’d started talking about some of his climate prediction factors, she’d smiled and nodded politely, but he had been able to tell by the glazed look in her eyes that she wasn’t interested.
“Hm,” Winthrop said.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing at all.” Winthrop turned away.
Correct. There was nothing wrong with Matthew not discussing his interests with his future bride. Nothing at all.
Chapter Nineteen
