The Duke's Men [1] What the Duke Desires by Sabrina Jeffries Page B

friends were only interested
     in dallying with her. Her brothers couldn’t see that; they seemed to believe she could
     find a husband anywhere if she just tried. She knew better.
    “All the same,” he said earnestly, “I won’t ruin any chance you have for a decent
     marriage by carrying you off with me unchaperoned to France.”
    A bitter laugh burst from her. “I assure you I have few prospects for a ‘decent marriage.’
     I’m nearly twenty-seven. I have no connections or fortune. Not to mention that I’m
     the daughter of a French actress.”
    “And a viscount.”
    “Who chose not to marry my mother.” When he looked as if he would say more, she added,
     “If the thought of damaging my reputation truly bothers you, just tell people I’m
     your relation. Your sister, perhaps.”
    He shot her an incredulous glance. “I’m the Duke of Lyons. Everyone knows I don’t
     have a sister.”
    “Then choose something else, something they would never know was a falsehood. Tell
     them I’m your mistress.”
    She regretted the flip statement the moment something hot and fierce and raw flared
     in his eyes, something distinctly ungentlemanly. It provoked the oddest fluttering
     in her belly.
    And then it provoked her temper. She braced herself for whatever sly innuendo he was
     sure to make, about how he would happily take her along as his mistress if she would be his mistress. Or some lecherous comment about her bosom—that one happened a lot.
    Instead, the glint in his eye abruptly vanished, and he flashed her his cool, mocking
     smile. “As intriguing as that sounds, Miss Bonnaud, that would never work.”
    She eyed him warily. “Why not?”
    “Because you have no idea of the gossip that attends me wherever I go. The moment
     I announce myself—nay, the moment I arrive in my crested coach—the tongues start wagging.
     By the end of our first day on the road, whomever we meet will have resolved to find
     out your name, your family’s name, your rank, and your personal connection to me.
     In under a week, they will know everything about you, and you will be ruined.”
    Good Lord, he really was concerned about her reputation. How astonishing.
    He strode up to the desk, his gaze hard upon her. “Not to mention that the world will
     no doubt learn that my brother may be alive, and I will be confronted with even more
     impostors and defrauders.”
    An idea took form in her mind. “Then don’t announce yourself. Don’t travel in your
     crested coach. Travel as a regular person. Then you could pretend to be my relation
     without comment.” She couldn’t resist a mischievous smile. “We’ll be nobodies together,
     and no one will give a fig for my reputation. Or yours. Or the possibility that your
     Peter is alive.”
    The words echoed in the still room. He stared blankly at her.
    She hastened to fill the silence. “It will make everything easier. If you masquerade
     as another of my brothers, there will be no attendants to accommodate, no questions
     to be answered. We will travel to France, find out what we can, and return without
     anyone’s being the wiser.”
    “And what about the advantages my rank offers?”
    “What advantages? In France you will still be a foreigner, a lord in a world that
     recently lopped off the heads of as many lords as it could find.” Her tone turned
     arch. “You may discover that being an English duke is actually a disadvantage in France,
     Your Grace. All things considered.”
    She held her breath, waiting for more protests, but to her surprise, he grew thoughtful.
     “A regular person, eh? I’ve never been one of those, to be sure. That would be novel
     indeed.” He sounded almost wistful. Then his expression hardened, and he shook his
     head. “No, it will not work. I’ll be recognized.”
    “Not if you dress and behave appropriately. People notice only what you reveal, and
     the key is to reveal only what you want them to see.” Not for nothing had she