Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novel (25 page)

But the rest of him seemed so improper it really did take her breath away, now that she could see him. Properly. He was so
ruggedly good-looking it seemed impossible, and yet here he was—dark hair with just a hint of a curl, a strong blade of a
nose over a full mouth, blue eyes that gazed at her unrelentingly. As though he could see inside her soul.

Which Genevieve knew perfectly well could be characterized with the word “confused.”

And his build was—well,
impressive
was one word for it. Genevieve imagined there were other words, far less proper words, words that deliberately untidy-haired
women would know. He was tall and also broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, and he stood in her sitting room with an easy grace
that nonetheless seemed as though he could move at any time. To attack, to defend, to—

Not that. She could not even think that.

“Your Grace?” His eyebrows had drawn together, and he was looking at her as though she were an oddity he had run across, and
wasn’t certain he liked.

That was the expression she’d seen on most people’s faces since inheriting. It shouldn’t discomfit her; on a less impressive
gentleman it wouldn’t. But him, with his height, and his looks, and his general (no,
Captain!
her mind corrected hysterically) air of command—well. Well, it seemed as though she could be discomfited after all.

And here she thought the worst part about being a duchess was the whole inability to handle anything part.

“Yes, Mr. Salisbury,” she said, keeping her voice low so it wouldn’t tremble. Or squeak. “Thank you so much for arriving,
and so promptly, too.” She glanced toward Chandler and nodded. “That will be all.”

Her butler withdrew, closing the door behind him. Leaving her with him and—“Oh, goodness, please allow me to introduce my
grandmother.”

“The dowager duchess?” he said, walking forward to bow in her grandmother’s direction.

Gran giggled and held her hand out. “Heavens, no, I am Lady Halbard. My daughter was the Duchess’s mother.”

How, in goodness’ name, could Gran tell that he was so good-looking? Because she was preening, at least as much as a sixty-year-old
woman could. Which is to say she was wriggling in her seat and smiling in a nearly coquettish way.

The only time Genevieve had seen her grandmother behave that way before was in the presence of the butcher, who had apparently
been quite comely in his youth, when Gran had much better eyesight.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Gran wriggled some more, and Genevieve found herself almost wishing she were ten years old again, and could roll her eyes
with impunity.

“Would you excuse us, Gran? Mr. Salisbury and I have some business to discuss.”

Her grandmother began to rise, and Mr. Salisbury reached out to hold her elbow as she stood, a delighted smile on her face.
“Byron and I will leave you alone. Byron!” she called, even though the cat had yet to acknowledge it had a name, much less
that anyone was in authority over it.

“Byron?” Mr. Salisbury asked, that look of confusion on his face again.

“Byron. Named after the poet.
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage
?” Gran replied.

“Ah. Of course,” Mr. Salisbury replied, even though he still looked confused.

“The cat,” Genevieve explained.

“Ah!” The look of confusion cleared somewhat.

“I spoke with him once,” Gran said dreamily.

“The poet, not the cat,” Genevieve said hastily.

“He was the most handsome man,” Gran continued. Apparently Gran had long been a connoisseur of masculine beauty.

“Let me help you, Gran,” Genevieve said, going to her grandmother’s other side. The one not currently occupied by the handsome
observant man. Not Byron, but Mr. Salisbury. And now she was doing it. She shook her head at herself as she began to walk.

“Thank you, dear.” Gran patted Mr. Salisbury’s arm. “It is such a pleasure to meet you, I am hoping you will be able to help
my granddaughter with whatever she needs.” And then to make matters worse, she punctuated her vague and somewhat leading words
with a knowing chuckle.

Genevieve felt her face start to burn in embarrassment. Gran wouldn’t see it, of course, but he likely would. The realization
of which only made her face burn brighter.

They waited until the door shut behind Gran, as Genevieve tried frantically to get her face to cool.

“Well Your Grace,” Mr. Salisbury said, regarding her with an intense gaze. “How may I be of service?”

Oh dear, Genevieve thought. That was certainly an open-ended question. Where should she begin?

MEGAN FRAMPTON
writes historical romance under her own name and romantic women’s fiction under the name Megan Caldwell. She likes the color black, gin, dark-haired British men, and huge earrings, not in that order. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and son. You can visit her website at
www.meganframpton.com
. She tweets as
@meganf
, and is at
facebook.com/meganframptonbooks
.

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• Dukes Behaving Badly
  
• Why
  Do
  Dukes Fall in Love?
  
• One-Eyed Dukes Are Wild
  
• No Groom at the Inn
  (a novella)
  
• Put Up Your Duke
  
• When Good Earls Go Bad
  (a novella)
  
• The Duke’s Guide to Correct Behavior
  

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously
and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead,
is entirely coincidental.

Excerpt from
My Fair Duchess
copyright © 2017 by Megan Frampton.

why do dukes fall in love?
Copyright © 2016 by Megan Frampton. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.

EPub Edition AUGUST 2016 ISBN: 9780062412836

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062412829

first edition

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