Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novel (6 page)

She regarded him with those dark liquid eyes, and it felt as though she were staring through into his soul. Fanciful though
that sounded.

“I can understand that,” she replied slowly. She looked away, toward the shelf filled with books, then out the window. Not
that there was anything to see out there, nothing but darkness and a few trees brushing the window. “There aren’t many men
in your position who would continue to strive, to value the importance of trying to be something more.”

“I am not most men.” He stated it plainly, aware it was absolutely true and also that it could be seen as arrogant. Which
he definitely was.

She looked back at him, a wry smile on her lips. “I admitted that before. Are you asking for a compliment?” It sounded as
though she was . . . teasing him? He’d never been teased before. That he knew of. “You are definitely not most men,” she repeated,
this time in a voice that sounded as though it were redolent with meaning more than the few words she’d said. It made something
quicken inside him, but also made him feel the stab of poignant emotion he hadn’t had in thirty years. Of the potential for
loss, but the equal potential for gain.

Edwina knew she couldn’t blame her shaky feeling on the brandy. She wished it were as simple as that. But she’d had only a
few sips, and she had to admit that she’d been all fluttery inside for nearly the entire evening, as soon as it was clear
he was going out of his way to be pleasant to Gertrude. That surprised her, given how abrupt he was normally, and how he seemed
almost proud of his brusqueness.

“Why were you so nice to my daughter?” She might as well ask him; it wasn’t as though he were bound to take offense. He hadn’t
taken offense at anything she’d said thus far, from when she thought his plans were too ambitious, or that he had dealt with
a tradesman poorly, or when she’d been short with him in the morning, before she’d had her coffee. In fact, at times it had
seemed he had pondered what she had said, as though he were sifting the information through his hardworking brain. As though
her opinion mattered.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It seemed as though it would be a better expenditure of energy to be nice and have her relatively appeased
through dinner than to antagonize her and have to deal with that.” His mouth curved into a smile. “Besides which, I do like
her. That was surprising to me, I don’t have much experience with children. None, actually.” He looked thoughtful. “I’d always
heard they were beastly creatures, always wanting things and attention. Your daughter is not like that.”

Edwina uttered a snort. “She can be, if there is something she wants. She found it expedient to be on her best behavior this
evening. She likes living here very much, she doesn’t want to leave, and so she understands in order to stay, she has to make
sure I retain my position. Which means she will do what she has to.” She tilted her head and looked at him. “Very similar
to you, it seems.”

He looked discomfited at being compared to a six-year-old girl, and Edwina wanted to laugh, only that would be entirely inappropriate.
Not that he minded inappropriate things, of course, but if she had to guess she would imagine he would get a little tetchy
about her amusement.

“What was your husband like?”

Oh. Of course he would ask. And ask so abruptly, without a hint of sympathy. That made it easier to respond, actually.

“He was—he was not particularly intelligent. He was stubborn, and loud. He adored Gertrude, even though he didn’t understand
her.”

“Or you.” He said it as though it were a fact, not a question.

She smiled in acknowledgment. He was so logical, so reasoned, and yet he could also see past the facts to discern the woman
within. To see her. That was unexpected. That he could be so insightful while also being so seemingly emotionless. But he
wasn’t; it was just that his emotion was an expression of his honesty. “True. He did not understand me, either. I suppose
I didn’t understand him as well.” She shrugged, as though it didn’t matter. It did; she couldn’t lie to herself. Or to him.
“We married when I was only seventeen. He was twice my age, and set in his ways. We never really settled well together.”

“And then he died, leaving you with nothing.” Again, not an iota of sympathy or commiseration. Why did that make her feel
better about talking to him about it?

“No, barely a penny.” She spread her hands wide. “Which is how I come to be in your employ, Your Grace.”

“Hadlow,” he corrected in a near growl. She truly did wish she could laugh then; she’d only said the honorific to nettle him.
And it had worked.

She looked at the clock in the corner of the room. She’d noticed she tended to lose track of time when she was with him—she
was too busy assessing him, and the work he wanted done, to worry about seconds and minutes. It had been nearly half an hour
since they’d come into this room. She placed the brandy glass down on the table beside her. “I should retire for the evening.
I want to check on Gertrude, and my employer is quite adamant that I appear at my desk on time and ready to work.” She smiled
as she spoke, to let him know she was joking. Even though she was also partially serious—he was a hard worker, which meant
that he expected his employees to work hard as well.

He didn’t stand when she got up, and as usual, that both startled and piqued her. She didn’t want him to consider her as a
woman, he couldn’t or he wouldn’t have hired her, but she did wish she could discern any kind of appreciation for who she
was and what she was doing. And that she was a woman doing a job that only men usually did.

But she couldn’t have it both ways, could she? And she would far prefer that he think of her as a steady, hardworking employee
than as a female.

“Good evening, Hadlow,” she said as she walked out of the room. Sighing as she realized it would be another ten hours before
she was in his company again.

“Good evening, Cheltam,” he replied.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cheltam.” The girl looked anxious, but Edwina didn’t blame her—she was inside a duke’s home after having
been in a small school out in the country. It had to be a significant change.

“Good morning, Miss Clark. Thank you for coming to speak with me.” Edwina had contacted Carolyn as soon as the duke had given
her the authority to hire a governess, and it had been a few days before Carolyn had located a suitable candidate. Gertrude
had initially been averse to the idea of having a governess, but had taken to it once Edwina had told her about some of the
books she was currently unable to read.

“Can you tell me why you believe you would be a good fit for this position?” Edwina smiled at Miss Clark, who offered a tentative
smile back. “That is, I have reviewed your qualifications, but I would like to hear them in your own words.” Just as the duke
had done to her—it was a good tactic to ask the applicant to speak for herself and not just rely on what was on the paper.

“I spent ten years at the Woodson School, the first six as a student, the rest of the time as an instructor. I taught composition,
drawing, and French.”

“That is a wide array of subjects,” Edwina replied. “Which is your favorite?”

The girl’s expression eased. “It is difficult to choose just one. The students—or most of them—were all so eager to learn,
and it made teaching a joy. I found myself the happiest while teaching French, I think, since it was introducing the students
to a whole other world of language.” She looked embarrassed. “Although that sounds rather presumptuous, doesn’t it.”

Edwina chuckled softly. “Not at all. You sound enthusiastic, and that is the kind of person I wish to teach my daughter.”

“Are you the lady of the house then?” Miss Clark looked confused, as she should—Edwina’s gown, a simple but flattering dress
in dark blue, was suitable to her position as a secretary, and not nearly as grand as a duchess would wear.

“No, I am not. I am the Duke of Hadlow’s secretary, and my daughter resides here with me.”

“His . . . secretary?” The girl looked askance, and Edwina felt herself bristle in response.

“Yes, his secretary. And only his secretary,” she added sharply, and then felt terrible when the girl’s expression fell.

“I didn’t mean—that is, I apologize,” Miss Clark said, looking down at the floor.

Edwina sighed. “I suppose it is an inevitable thought, given how unusual it is for a woman to be employed thusly.” And even
more reason she absolutely should not be thinking about the duke in any way other than as her employer—not how tall he was,
or how his presence made her stomach get all fluttery, or how his voice seemed to resonate through her entire body. Or how
she found herself just looking at his face, noting the strong features, the long, sharp nose, the wickedly intelligent eyes.

None of that, Edwina
, she reminded herself.

“If I were to be your daughter’s instructor, I would provide instruction both in and outside the classroom.” It seemed Miss Clark
was determined to continue, not obsessing about her possible rudeness. Edwina liked that. “We would go for walks in the park
to identify insect species, we would take on some of the shopping to practice her maths skills, and I would ask her to find
our way home, so to practice her navigational skills. This in addition to the usual schoolroom activities.”

“That sounds quite progressive. And exactly the type of thing Gertrude would find interesting.” Her daughter, Edwina knew,
liked to be challenged, to try new things just because they were new. Not unlike Edwina’s employer. “I want to thank you for
your time, and I would be pleased to offer you the position.”

Miss Clark gasped aloud, and then a wide smile crossed her face. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Cheltam. I promise you will not
regret the decision.”

“We will set up your room, so if it isn’t too soon, perhaps you could join us and start work on the day after next?” She wouldn’t
follow her employer’s lead and just give the poor girl two hours to return.

“That would be wonderful, thank you. I have to tell Miss Carolyn about it.”

“Yes, please thank Miss Carolyn for sending you over.” Edwina held her hand and Miss Clark took it, shaking it vigorously.
“I look forward to seeing you on Thursday, and I will speak with Gertrude and tell her of some of your plans for your time
together. I am certain she will be as enthusiastic as I am.”

“Excellent,” Miss Clark replied. “Good day, Mrs. Cheltam.”

“Good day.” Edwina watched as the girl left the room, nearly bouncing in excitement. She couldn’t be much more than eighteen—had
Edwina ever been that young? By the time she was eighteen, she’d been married for nearly a year, and had come to realize just
how wrong she and George were for each other. And that they were stuck together until death.

She stood in the room a few moments longer, thinking about how her life had changed so dramatically. And knowing she had only
one chance,
this
chance, to make things right for her and Gertrude for the rest of her life. Or until Gertrude married, hopefully someone
who loved her and understood her, not just someone who wished to possess her.

“You’ve hired someone then?”

She walked to her chair and sat, reaching for her notebook and trying to avoid rolling her eyes.

How did he know already? Oh, of course, he probably had the keenest of hearing to accompany his height, good looks, wealth,
and intelligence.

About the only thing he seemed to lack was any kind of charm and finesse. Although that bluntness was, in its own way, quite
charming.

So scratch that. The man was irritatingly perfect.

“Yes, I have. She comes with excellent recommendations, she taught at the—”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Did I somehow give you the impression I cared about the person? If she meets your qualifications,
it is nothing to me. As long as it means that your daughter will be properly cared for while under my roof, I don’t care if
her governess walks on four legs and breaks into song every evening.”

That was so unexpected, and unexpectedly funny, she had no choice but to laugh, bringing her hand up to her mouth to try to
contain her giggles.

He did not join her, however. He merely looked annoyed, as though he hadn’t realized just how ludicrous his words sounded.

When she was able to stop laughing, which was long after his expression had gone from annoyed to exasperated, she spoke. “I
cannot thank you enough, Hadlow. For taking such an interest in my daughter.”

He frowned, as though embarrassed. “I don’t take an interest, I merely want to ensure my secretary—the only somewhat efficient
one I’ve had in years—is going to stay in my employ.” He spoke gruffly, and she had to suppress yet another smile.

Did he really not know he was at all goodhearted? She shrugged as she realized it didn’t matter what he knew or didn’t know
about himself—she had that knowledge, and it made her feel more relaxed around him, somehow. Knowing he had a bit of kindness
tucked within himself, so hidden he didn’t recognize it.

It would be her little secret.

“What are we working on today?” She made her voice overly lively, just to see if he’d get that irritated look on his face
again.

Who knew she was so mischievous? She certainly didn’t—it wasn’t as though there had been the opportunity, being married to
George and all.

But she was learning all sorts of new things about herself since she’d arrived at the duke’s house, just a little over a week
ago. She knew she enjoyed looking at him, definitely enjoyed teasing him, liked how he assumed she was intelligent and capable
enough to handle what work he was throwing at her, and even liked how exhausted and spent she felt each night as she headed
to bed—as though she had done something worthwhile that day, rather than just being an idle ornament or something. The way
George had always made her feel.

“We’re reviewing the proposal from another railway company. The Victorian Rails, I believe. As though the name is going to
give them any kind of advantage with the Queen,” he said in a derisive tone.

“How many railways are there?” Edwina asked as she stood to look for the documents.

“I have no idea. Far more than there should be, I know that much.” The duke just sat and watched as she shuffled through the
mass of papers on his desk. She reminded herself he was her employer, he didn’t have to help, although it would have been
the polite thing to do.

Oh right. He was definitely not polite.

She found them, then straightened the papers she’d disarranged and returned to her seat. “Do you want me to summarize?”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. That was his normal listening posture, which Edwina didn’t mind;
she was better able to look at him without his noticing.

“The Victorian Rails is the best and most economic way to travel our great country,” she began.

He gave an impatient wave, his eyes still closed. “Don’t read all the hyperbole, all of them basically say the same thing.
‘We will do the best with the smallest investment, and we have the best equipment and people.’ ” He opened his eyes, and she
started guiltily. Had he caught her staring?

“They can’t all be the best, Cheltam.” He sounded angry, as though the inanity of the facile words irritated him. Again, of
course they did. He seemed to find most of the world annoying, she was just grateful he hadn’t put her into the annoying side
of his ledger by now.

Perhaps in a few months he would, if he tired of her poking at him like a grumpy bear.

“I don’t understand why they can’t just tell the truth,” he continued. “It’s so much easier than prevaricating just to make
something look better than it actually is. Don’t people see through that kind of obfuscation?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think people even know what obfuscation is, to be honest.” She shook her head. “You
don’t seem to recognize how different you are from most people.”

He uttered an exasperated sigh. “Of course I do, Cheltam, I’m a duke. One of the most privileged people in the country, if
not the world.”

“I don’t mean that,” she replied. “You are very aware of who you are, and what your position is in this world.”

Now his expression looked genuinely puzzled. “What do you mean, then?”

“You are so intelligent.” He blinked. Had no one ever said that to him before? Maybe they never attempted it, he was too rude.
In addition to being so intelligent. “And you have this—this analytical mind that is quite different from the way most people
think.”

His expression remained puzzled. As though he’d heard her words, but didn’t understand them. “Most people don’t think the
way I do?”

“You must know they don’t. That’s why you’re always so, so irked at people in general, isn’t it?”

His expression turned thoughtful. “I thought it was just because they were all irksome. People in general, that is.”

She uttered a snort. “Well, that is true as well. People
are
irksome. But not to the extent you likely think.”

He leaned forward, his green gaze locked on her face. She felt a shiver at that intense focus put on her. “You’re different
though, Cheltam, aren’t you? You’re like me.” His tone was almost pleading, as though he were desperate for it to be so.

What made him feel so separate, so apart from people? Besides his natural intelligence. She had known a few intelligent people
in the past, but none of them seemed to be as lonely as he did. Or, more precisely, as alone.

She opened her mouth to reply, then realized she didn’t know what to say—
Yes, I am like you, only I’m not a duke, so I’m not nearly as arrogant? No, I’m not nearly as intelligent, although I can
find my way through a sheet of financials? You and I are precisely the same, so now I have to go practice being humble?

Not that any of those were the right responses.

“I suppose I am, in some ways,” she said slowly. It hadn’t occurred to her that they were similar—she’d been so focused on
the differences. That he was wealthy, and male, and confident, and abrupt. That she was poor, and female, and diffident, and
had thought of herself as overly polite, at least until she came into contact with him.

He leaned back, sighing in what sounded like relief. That there was someone out there like him? That she’d finally agreed
with him?

“That is what is different with you, Cheltam,” he said gruffly. “You don’t irk me.”

“High praise indeed,” she shot back, trying to ease her discomfort at this moment of connection with humor.

He shook his head, as though to clear it, and waved his hand at her in his usual commanding way. “Return to the work. We have
wasted enough time. Skip the parts where they say they are the best without proving anything.”

Edwina chuckled as she looked down at the papers in her hand, wishing she had the strength to probe further into him, but
unwilling to open up herself, which she knew he would demand, in all his logic. “That should take all of about five minutes,
then.”

He resumed his listening position—eyes closed, hands folded—and the moment passed, but Edwina’s interest in him had only just
begun.