Read Online What to Do with a Duke by Sally Mackenzie - Free Book Online

words.
    Ridiculous. She was acting like a complete widgeon. “I didn’t imagine you did.” She laid her hand on his sleeve.
    His arm was so solid. And her head came only to his shoulder. She felt small, delicate.
    There was absolutely nothing small or delicate about her. She was as tall as all the men in Loves Bridge, Papa included, except for Mr. Barker. She—
    She twisted her ankle again and fell against the duke’s side, but this time she was able to recover immediately. “Pardon me! I assure you I’m not usually this clumsy.”
    He laid his hand over hers before she could snatch it off his sleeve. “The footing is quite treacherous.”
    Yes, but he wasn’t stumbling.
    The weight of his hand on hers was doing very odd things to her breathing. She swallowed something that felt uncomfortably like panic.
    â€œI don’t need your assistance. I come this way by myself all the time.” Her tone sounded rude even to her own ears.
    But he didn’t take offense. Instead, the right corner of his mouth turned up. “Then I apologize. It must be my presence that is causing you to stumble.”
    Oh, no. That wasn’t it. Of course it wasn’t. What? Did he think her some silly young virgin alone with a man for the first time and afraid for her virtue? Preposterous!
    â€œI just wasn’t looking where I was going. It won’t happen again.”
    He was overwhelming—so close, so big, so . . . male. She hadn’t been affected by him in the churchyard, but now they were on this secluded, shady path....
    He’d be horrified if he could read her thoughts. He’d run screaming back to the churchyard. No, he’d run all the way back to London.
    That thought made her feel better, and she managed to smile. She only had to make it to the end of the path, which they were fast approaching. Then they would be on the lane where there were no tree roots. She could put some distance between them.
    She lengthened her stride, keeping her eyes on her feet, and turned her thoughts to the business at hand.
    â€œHow soon can I move into the Spinster House?”
    The duke’s stride lengthened easily to match hers. “I would think immediately, but I assume Mr. Wilkinson will know.”
    â€œSo you don’t have a document of some sort that tells you how everything is managed?”
    â€œNo. Wilkinson has all that.” His mouth tightened. “All I know is that I must be physically present when the spinster is selected, and I must sign the agreement.”
    â€œYou had to do that even when you were ten years old?”
    He nodded.
    She’d grown up with the story of the Cursed Duke. It had been her favorite fairy tale, and the arrival of the horses and traveling carriage when she was four had only added to its appeal. Isabelle, the tragic heroine seduced and abandoned by the evil nobleman, was family, albeit a cousin many, many times removed. The curse was Isabelle’s victory from the grave and a source of pride, but she’d never thought about its effect on the duke’s descendants. In truth, she’d never thought of them as real people—just as fairy-tale villains.
    This man was very real and didn’t seem at all evil.
    â€œWhat if you’d been an infant? Surely then you would have been excused. It would be impossible for a baby to fulfill those duties.”
    â€œMy great-grandfather was three months old when the Spinster House became vacant. His guardian and his nurse brought him to Loves Bridge and had him in the room when the spinster was chosen. The earl signed the agreement for him, but affixed the baby’s handprint as well.”
    Superstitious nonsense. Did grown men truly think something terrible would happen if they didn’t follow the letter of this ancient document? If she’d been there—
    Wait a moment . . .
    â€œYou mentioned the baby’s nurse, but not his mother.” Certainly an