Page 11 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
Mama turned to Jo, frowning. “Will you be able to work with such a scoundrel?”
“I believe I can. He is quite…ah…pompous, but I can endure that. Of course, if he proves to be as horrid as you say, or is impolite, improper, or inconstant with any of the ladies I present to him, I shall part ways with him at once and demand he apologize to the lady in question.”
“I wonder why he’s searching for a wife now,” Mama mused.
“I’d say it’s the proper time for it, most like,” Mrs. Ferguson asked. “He’s probably in his early thirties, which is the age when a lord might start to understand he is not invincible and begins thinking about producing an heir.”
Jo sighed. What Mrs. Ferguson was saying was true, but Jo would have preferred people to think of it differently. Like, “He’s reached the age when most men start understanding the value of an enduring passion.”
But she was well aware that most people didn’t have her faith in love. And the duke himself definitely wouldn’t agree with her, though she was still determined to prove him wrong.
“So, tell us what he’s like.” Lilly leaned forward and waggled her eyebrows. “Physically.”
A bit of levity from her brokenhearted friend. That was a good sign.
“Hmm…” Jo tapped her fingers on the edge of her cup. “He’s tall, dark, and handsome. I suppose.”
Bess cocked a brow. “Yousuppose?”
Jo straightened. “As he is my client, I must observe him in a dispassionate fashion. I must recognize what others will see in him. I must work with him to enhance his best and most appealing features.”
“And what are those?” Bess asked.
“Dispassionately speaking, of course,” Lilly added with a grin.
“Well, he’s quite tall, as I previously mentioned. I think he must be near a half foot taller than me.”
“Ooh, that’s quite tall indeed,” Mrs. Ferguson murmured. Mrs. Ferguson and Bess were nearly a half foot shorter than Jo. “He sounds like a strapping young man.”
Strappingwas not the term Jo would have used, but then she thought of the muscles she’d seen rippling under his coat, and she supposed it was accurate.
“He dresses”—she quelled a tiny butterfly in her belly as she thought of how his clothing had hugged his body—“quite…well. He clearly has an excellent”—and expensive—“tailor.”
“Tight breeches, eh?” Lilly said with a salacious wink.
“Lilly!” Mama exclaimed. But she was smiling, too.
“He wasn’t wearingbreechesas daytime attire, Lilly. That is so 1799.”
“I know. But I long for breeches to return to fashion as everyday wear.” Lilly pouted. “Now all men wear about town are trousers, which are either loose and dull or so ridiculously tight and high a man cannot bend his legs properly even to walk, and pantaloons, which…” She grimaced, clearly thinking of the various bumps and bulges that the pantaloons displayed so clearly—and sometimes scandalously. “…are not at all complimentary to a man’s form.”
Jo considered the duke’s buff pantaloons, which had beenverycomplimentary to his form. The thick muscles in his thighs had strained beneath the linen, and the fabric had disappeared beneath his knees under the supple black leather of his Hessian boots.
“What color are his hair and eyes?” Lilly demanded.
“He has dark hair that brushes over his shoulders,” Jo said. “It looks quite soft. Dark, serious brows over eyes that are a light brown, almost amber. Or perhaps it is just flecks of amber I see in them—I am not entirely sure. His features fit together finely on his face, but his lips…he is so serious that he makes them look so stern and uncompromising, but when you catch him unawares, they are so soft and full-looking. I should like to see him smile—”
Realizing the room had gone quiet, she cut herself off, looking up from her teacup to see all four women gaping at her. “What?”
“You forgot we were in the room for a moment there, Jo,” her mother said.
“You sounded so dreamy,” Bess said on a sigh.
Jo set her teacup onto its saucer with a clatter. “Nonsense. I was merely describing his features, that’s all.”
“Mmm,” Lilly murmured, looking down into her tea. “And sodispassionately, too.”
…
