Read Online The Duchess War (The Brothers Sinister) by Courtney Milan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Courtney Milan
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autumn evening, of silks laid out atop lush bedding. Of her hair, rid of those confining pins and spread over a pillow, the honey-colored ends spilling over her breasts.
He swallowed and cleared his throat. “This isn’t what I expected when you said you’d go to war with me.”
“Let me guess.” She fingered her glove carefully, and he noticed that she was worrying at a tiny hole in the tip. “You thought I would simper if you smiled at me. You supposed that when I said I would prove what you were doing to everyone, that I planned to engage in a bumbling, graceless investigation into your surface activities.”
“I—no. Of course not.” But Robert felt his cheeks heat. Because that was precisely what he had thought.
She bit her lip, the picture of shyness. But her words were the opposite of shy. “Now,” she whispered, “you’re surprised to find that I overmatch you.”
“I am?” he echoed, looking at her. “You do?”
Her eyes were fixed over his shoulder, no hint in her posture of what she said so quietly.
“Of course I overmatch you,” she said. She spoke as if the matter were beyond question. “You’re a well-educated duke—one of the most powerful men in England. Your staff likely numbers in the hundreds across your many estates. If needed, you could draw on resources in the tens of thousands of pounds.”
The corner of her mouth lifted now, dispelling the illusion of a simple, quiet girl. A dimple emerged on her cheek. She glanced up at him—once—and he almost couldn’t breathe.
This, this was the woman who had threatened him.
“You have all those things,” she said. “But then, I have one thing you do not.”
He leaned in, not wanting to miss a word.
“I,” she said, “have a sense of tactics.”
He had just that one glimmer of a smile from her, a small moment when he caught his breath—and then it all disappeared. Her face smoothed; she looked down once more, and Miss Pursling looked utterly plain.
Another man might have been surprised into compliance. But Robert couldn’t imagine backing down now—not when she ducked her head and stared at the floor. No; he wanted to bring her out again.
“You haven’t done anything,” he said.
Her expression didn’t change.
“I’m winning,” he announced. “You can’t bore me into a surrender.”
“You probably think battles are won with cannons and brave speeches and fearless charges.” She smoothed her skirts as she spoke. “They’re not. Wars are won by dint of having adequate shoe leather. They’re won by boys who make shells in munitions factories, by supply trains shielded from enemy eyes. Wars are won by careful attendance to boring detail. If you wait to see the cavalry charge, Your Grace, you’ll have already lost.”
He blinked. “You’re trying to make me back down. It won’t work.”
“That’s the beauty of strategy. Everything I do contains a double threat. If you don’t back down from spoken words, you reveal your character. Everything you say, everything you do, every charming smile and sweet protestation—the most you can hope for is to change the manner of my victory. The fact of it, though, is a foregone conclusion.”
She looked so small sitting in her chair, so fragile. It was only when he shut his eyes and erased that jarring image of a diffident spinster that he could comprehend the evidence of his ears. Miss Pursling wouldn’t even look him in the eyes. But her voice seemed indomitable.
“So,” he said, “you think that I’m charming. You didn’t list that among my assets before.”
“Of course you’re charming.” She didn’t look up. “I’m charmed. I’m charmed to my teeth.”
There was a note in her voice that sounded so bitter that it almost tasted sweet.
“You’re a force of nature, Your Grace,” she said. “But so am I. So am I.”
She hadn’t said that she was charming…and, in point of fact, she wasn’t. Not in the usual sense. But there was something
He swallowed and cleared his throat. “This isn’t what I expected when you said you’d go to war with me.”
“Let me guess.” She fingered her glove carefully, and he noticed that she was worrying at a tiny hole in the tip. “You thought I would simper if you smiled at me. You supposed that when I said I would prove what you were doing to everyone, that I planned to engage in a bumbling, graceless investigation into your surface activities.”
“I—no. Of course not.” But Robert felt his cheeks heat. Because that was precisely what he had thought.
She bit her lip, the picture of shyness. But her words were the opposite of shy. “Now,” she whispered, “you’re surprised to find that I overmatch you.”
“I am?” he echoed, looking at her. “You do?”
Her eyes were fixed over his shoulder, no hint in her posture of what she said so quietly.
“Of course I overmatch you,” she said. She spoke as if the matter were beyond question. “You’re a well-educated duke—one of the most powerful men in England. Your staff likely numbers in the hundreds across your many estates. If needed, you could draw on resources in the tens of thousands of pounds.”
The corner of her mouth lifted now, dispelling the illusion of a simple, quiet girl. A dimple emerged on her cheek. She glanced up at him—once—and he almost couldn’t breathe.
This, this was the woman who had threatened him.
“You have all those things,” she said. “But then, I have one thing you do not.”
He leaned in, not wanting to miss a word.
“I,” she said, “have a sense of tactics.”
He had just that one glimmer of a smile from her, a small moment when he caught his breath—and then it all disappeared. Her face smoothed; she looked down once more, and Miss Pursling looked utterly plain.
Another man might have been surprised into compliance. But Robert couldn’t imagine backing down now—not when she ducked her head and stared at the floor. No; he wanted to bring her out again.
“You haven’t done anything,” he said.
Her expression didn’t change.
“I’m winning,” he announced. “You can’t bore me into a surrender.”
“You probably think battles are won with cannons and brave speeches and fearless charges.” She smoothed her skirts as she spoke. “They’re not. Wars are won by dint of having adequate shoe leather. They’re won by boys who make shells in munitions factories, by supply trains shielded from enemy eyes. Wars are won by careful attendance to boring detail. If you wait to see the cavalry charge, Your Grace, you’ll have already lost.”
He blinked. “You’re trying to make me back down. It won’t work.”
“That’s the beauty of strategy. Everything I do contains a double threat. If you don’t back down from spoken words, you reveal your character. Everything you say, everything you do, every charming smile and sweet protestation—the most you can hope for is to change the manner of my victory. The fact of it, though, is a foregone conclusion.”
She looked so small sitting in her chair, so fragile. It was only when he shut his eyes and erased that jarring image of a diffident spinster that he could comprehend the evidence of his ears. Miss Pursling wouldn’t even look him in the eyes. But her voice seemed indomitable.
“So,” he said, “you think that I’m charming. You didn’t list that among my assets before.”
“Of course you’re charming.” She didn’t look up. “I’m charmed. I’m charmed to my teeth.”
There was a note in her voice that sounded so bitter that it almost tasted sweet.
“You’re a force of nature, Your Grace,” she said. “But so am I. So am I.”
She hadn’t said that she was charming…and, in point of fact, she wasn’t. Not in the usual sense. But there was something
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