He frowned. “You are speaking in riddles, Eugenie.”
“Last time we met I had the impression you were glad to be rid of me,” she said.
“There, see! You say exactly what you think when I am surrounded by people
who say what they think I want to hear. I miss your bluntness, Eugenie.”
She laughed, she couldn’t help it. “I never claimed to be diplomatic, Your Grace. I am not to everyone’s taste.”
“You are very much to my taste.”
How could he do that to her? Make her stomach dip like that? Just when she was trying to convince herself she hated him he made her like him again.
He smiled, took a step closer, and she felt the power of his personality. “Do you think we could meet again? If I promise to mind my manners?”
Nervously, Eugenie glanced at her father, who appeared to be engaged in negotiations as to price. Sinclair took the opportunity to move even closer, and his voice grew more intimate.
“I want to set you a dare, Miss Belmont. It must be my turn, after all.”
“I think I am reckless enough, Your Grace, without needing to prove it. I am through with dares.”
“Nevertheless I dare you to meet me at the ruined manor on Goyen Hill. Friday at eleven.”
“I am sorry but I must decline.”
“Are you such a coward?” he growled. “You started this game, Eugenie. It is too late to back out now.”
Eugenie opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, just as her father finished with the elderly gentleman and turned to them with a beaming smile and a handful of cash.
“Now, Your Grace, I’m sorry we couldn’t come to some arrangement about the mare, but such a fine lass was certain to be snapped up. I do have other horseflesh almost ready for sale. Give me a day or two and I’m sure I can find something to suit Lady Annabelle.”
“Father, the duke does not want to buy one of your horses,” Eugenie murmured warningly.
“Thank you, Sir Peter, but your daughter is right. I have no need of a horse. Now, I will leave you to your business. Good day.”
Sinclair tipped his hat again, giving Eugenie a meaningful look as he turned away.
She wanted to run after him and tell him there was no way in the world she was going to meet him tomorrow, but again she was prevented. The elderly gentleman was collecting his mare and Eugenie needed to quietly question him about his granddaughter’s riding skills. Relieved, she discovered the girl was no novice. “She likes a firm hand,” she said quietly and meaningfully, nodding at the mare. “Once she knows who’s in charge she will settle. Oh, and she dislikes bright buckles, so tell your granddaughter to wear plain footwear when she’s riding. And sometimes puddles . . . I think the reflections startle her.”
Feeling more comfortable about the morality of the sale, she was able to spend the journey home worrying about Sinclair and his dare and Averil’s letter and the mess she was in.
Was Sinclair still intending to ask her to be his mistress? All that talk of minding his manners and behaving himself was very well, but did she believe him? Well, he would have to learn that when it came to Eugenie Belmont he had met his match. Husband Hunters Club or not, she refused to be any man’s mistress.
Sinclair finished his soup and nodded for the servants to bring in the next course. His dining table was full tonight with local worthies and friends of his late father come visiting from London. Not exactly riotous company, but a necessary evil for a man in his position and with his social status to uphold. He was the Duke of Somerton and people expected him to throw the occasional lavish dinner. An invitation gave them something to boast about to their friends.
Besides, the lack of stimulating conversation enabled Sinclair to dwell on a subject that was constantly in his thoughts: Eugenie Belmont.
She was beneath him in every way. If he hadn’t known it before then he knew it now, after seeing her at the horse fair acting like a Gypsy, helping her father sell that wild mare to some poor unsuspecting fool. All of that should have given him a distaste for her, and yet it hadn’t.
If anything his passion for her was hotter than ever.
“When will you be coming down to London next, Somerton?”
Sinclair gave the old gentleman some offhand answer. London wasn’t on his agenda; he preferred the countryside. Would Eugenie take up his dare? And if she did, then she must know what he intended. Would that mean she was willing to listen to his proposal after all?
Sinclair knew after the abduction dare that he’d made his move far too soon. He hadn’t been able to help it. He was a man who knew what he wanted. Where was the point in dilly-dallying? Eugenie was that rare jewel, a woman he enjoyed spending time with, a woman he could talk to and who made him laugh. And then there was the wild passion he’d developed for her. He couldn’t remember meeting another like her and he didn’t need to wait about to make up his mind.
He was a duke, he needed a mistress, and Eugenie was perfect.