Page 8 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
“We drove past Hanford Castle a few times when I was young,” Mrs./Miss Porter continued. “I have never been inside, though I always dreamed of exploring the place.”
He huffed a sigh. “What shall I call you?”
Her head cocked to the side.
“I mean, shall I call you Mrs. Porter or Miss Porter? Mrs. seems, well, it seemsincorrect, and for some reason…” He frowned. “Miss seems somewhat…forward.”
“Not at all.” She smiled. Damn that thing. It was too pretty by half and made his insides feel rather soft. “Please, call me Miss Porter. If we are to ever encounter each other in public, that is the name you will know me by.”
“Very well.”
“So,” Miss Porter said as she wrote, “the duchess should be able to efficiently manage your three houses and communicate well with your housekeepers.”
“Yes,” he said. “That will be extremely important.”
“Extremelyimportant,” she repeated softly, jotting that down and re-dipping her pen into the inkpot before looking back up at him, her gray eyes twinkling with a silver glint.
He shifted uncomfortably in the uncomfortable chair.
“What else?” she asked.
“She must be an excellent hostess,” he said. “I often entertain prominent guests, and I have started a tradition of having a house party every autumn as my father once did.”
“An excellent hostess,” she said. “How do you mean?”
Did she not understand the term “excellent hostess”? Honestly? “Someone who hosts guests,” he said drily. “Excellently.”
She not only smiled at him this time, she outright laughed. “Oh, Your Grace. I think you’re being purposely obtuse. I’m certain you know what I’m asking. I should like to know the specific characteristics of a person you would consider an excellent hostess.”
This was excruciating. Once again resisting the urge to loosen his cravat, he sighed. “She would be welcoming, of course. She’d make our guests feel at home in my house. She’d be witty and interesting in conversation. She’d have the menus and events planned to perfection to ensure everyone’s entertainment throughout their visit. She’d coordinate with the servants and hire temporary help to ensure everyone had every possible need met.”
“I see,” she said. “The usual excellent-hostess-type behavior.”
Was she teasing him? “Exactly,” he said flatly.
“Menu planning and servant coordination aside,” she said, “let us go a little deeper into what you mean by ‘witty and interesting in conversation.’ Do you consider this a valuable trait in a bride outside of moments she is hosting your guests?”
“I suppose it would be valuable if she were witty and interesting at other social functions as well,” he conceded.
“But what about with you?”
“With me?” He gazed at her dispassionately. “I’ve told you before, Miss Porter, I require someone who will fulfill her duties as the Duchess of Crestmont. I’ve no desire toconversewith the woman.”
“But she will be your wife. You will be required to speak with her from time to time.”
“Of course I will. As long as she has the most basic of communication skills, it will be acceptable. It will be beneficial to have the ability to discuss household matters, and our various schedule requirements, etcetera.”
She stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
He knew what she was doing. Trying to coax him into admitting that he wanted some deep and meaningful connection with his bride-to-be. Someone he could chat with for so long, he wouldn’t notice they’d talked all night until the dawn sun peeked over the horizon.
Someone he loved.
By all that was holy, he didnotwant that. He’d tried traveling down that road once, and there was no way he’d make that mistake again. He just wanted a duchess, for God’s sake, not any of that other nonsense that some people believed marriage should entail.
“Aside from your aversion to having a spouse you can converse with, what about your wife’s feelings on the matter? Would you care if she were to be unhappy?”
That made his hackles rise. “Of course I’d care. I’d want her to be happy. She shall not be in want of anything, ever.”
