The Duchess War

But they were not just words. Nobody had ever said them to her; she hadn’t even known she wanted to hear them until he uttered them. Now they lodged like a knife between her ribs. She longed for them to be true—yearned for it so much that each breath hurt.

“What are you trying to say?” Minnie said to his waistcoat buttons. Her voice didn’t waver. It didn’t falter. “That you’re overmatched? We had already established that.”

“Of course I’m overmatched.” He was lightly stroking her cheek. “The male of the human species has a fundamental flaw. At the moment when we most want to say something clever and impressive, all the blood rushes from our brains.”

“It does?”

“Physiological fact,” His Grace said. “Arousal makes me stupid. It makes me say idiotic things like ‘I like your tits’ and, ‘Help, we’ve had a paste emergency over here.’ It makes me want to stay around you even though I know I’m overmatched, even though I’m sure you’re going to win.” His voice lowered. “You see, I want to watch you do it.”

She swallowed. And for that moment, she believed him. That she would win, somehow, win through to some future so impossibly bright it blinded her even to think of it.

“Even though I know I’m going to say foolish things,” he said. “And, apparently, throw paste at you.” There was a pause. “Sorry about that,” he finally said. “God, that was dumb.”

“I thought there were…things…that the male of the human species could do about this physiological shortcoming.”

He was still touching her, those two fingers lightly pressed against her jaw. She really couldn’t look at him as she spoke. Her whole face heated just thinking about what would be entailed in those things.

“Not right here,” he said, sounding amused. “Not right now.”

His thumb whispered against her lip, faintly recalling a kiss.

“Not,” he said, very quietly, “with you. Alas.”

Oh, she burned at that. Her skin seemed to catch flame. She felt herself grow damp beneath her skirts. But that wash of liquid want only made her sad.

They’d both read the moment aright. Minnie was too genteel for him to bed in so casual a fashion, and yet not high enough for him to marry. That left her as nothing to him, a nonentity in skirts. Whatever this was between them, it was both heartbreakingly real—and impossibly nonexistent.

His voice was rough when he spoke again. “So beat me to flinders,” he said. “Win. Overmatch me, Minnie. And when we’re alone…”

His fingers touched her chin lightly.

“When we’re alone,” he whispered, “look up.”

He could have tilted her chin, forcing her to do so. But his forefinger remained warm and steady on her face. He waited, and in the end, Minnie couldn’t help herself. She looked up.

His eyes met hers with a warm greeting.

“Hullo, Minnie.” He didn’t smile. He didn’t lean down to her. But when he whispered, “I wish you’d call me Robert,” his voice was almost a caress.

“Robert.”

“This,” he whispered, in a solemn tone of voice, “is where I would say something exceedingly clever, had my brains not been turned to paste.”

“How do you seduce anyone if you can’t talk at this stage?” she asked.

“I—” He stopped, shook his head, and flung his hands out in frustration.

It’s a Lane family tradition. When you’ve backed the other fellow into a corner, you give him a kiss to show there’s no hard feelings.

“I see how it is,” she said softly.

“You do?”

She didn’t. She couldn’t see anything at all. She didn’t know what to do about Stevens, what to do with the future that appeared to be crumbling before her eyes. This was the exact opposite of the moment when she would have kissed a chess piece.

But looking into his eyes, she saw not endings, not the finality of marriage to a man who didn’t know her, not the gray certainty of some future workhouse. She saw beginnings.

It was utterly impossible, this attraction between them.

“I do see,” Minnie said. “You don’t seduce women.”

He gave her a half smile. “Heh. Well. About that…”

“They seduce you.” And then, before she could think it through—before she could outline the shouldn’ts and the nevers—she popped up on her toes. There were only inches between them, and Minnie closed the distance without thinking.

He made a soft exhalation of surprise. His lips were warm on hers, and after that first moment of shock, his arms closed around her.

“Like this,” he murmured, and then his lips were not just pressed to hers, but moving along her mouth, coaxing the kiss from her.

His kiss was not an end, either, but a vibrant new thing, brilliant with possibility. His lips met hers, captured hers, over and over. When their tongues met, his hands came to either side of her face, holding her close, bringing her to him so roughly she feared she might break.

He kissed her and she pressed against him, her hands against his chest, his waistcoat buttons digging into her. Her fingers slid under his scarf, pulling him close.

And then he stepped away. Minnie opened her eyes to the courtyard, to the pump.

He smiled. “I believe that is the first time I’ve ever commanded your full attention.”

“Robert.” She swallowed awkwardly.

“In answer to what you said… You’re right. I don’t just owe you an apology. I can only repeat what I have told you before. I won’t leave you worse off than I met you. I know you’re worried. I know I can be thoughtless. But I don’t stay thoughtless, Miss Pursling. There’s a great deal I can do, and I won’t let anyone hurt you. My word on it.”

She shouldn’t believe him. It was impossible for him to simply assert that. He’d already ruined her inside, made her question the bleak landscape of her life. He’d made her hope. She felt as if she were floating in the clouds, now. And that meant the ground was such a long, long way down.

“I shouldn’t believe you.” She ran her hands over her face. “I should go give your letter to Mr. Charingford right now.”

“You should have done it two days ago.”

She felt a shy smile take over her face. “I know.”

She handed him back his paste pot. Their fingers met as she did, and her whole body sang in response. And for the first time, Minnie realized that he was too clever by half. She hadn’t overmatched him. He’d handed her the key to his downfall…and made it nearly impossible for her to use it.