Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right by Kieran Kramer Read Free Book Online Page B

pale. “How did you guess?”
    “It’s easy to see you have a tendre for him. And he’s besotted with you—that is, you or your father’s money. I can’t tell which one yet.”
    “How dare you.”
    He gave a small chuckle. “Are you sure you want him? You know nothing of him.”
    “I know this,” she said, leaning forward and poking him in the chest with a finger. “I know that I have my own plans for my future, and they don’t include marrying a smug, insufferable man. It will suit my purposes to remain betrothed to you for one month, which will ensure that I may stay in Town. But then I plan to break it off, no matter how angry it makes Papa.” She nodded firmly. “You can take my offer or leave it—and find yourself another fiancée. I refuse to budge.”
    “Even though your father will cut you off without a farthing?”
    She crossed her arms and made a face. “He didn’t mean it.”
    “I assure you, he does. He told me so. And remember, he vowed upon your mother’s—”
    “ Don’t bring my mother into this.” She inhaled a deep breath. “All right,” she conceded, “perhaps he really meant it.”
    He didn’t say a word.
    “But I refuse to marry you. Even if I’m cut off without a penny. No one tells me whom to marry.”
    “But you said you wanted the Duke of Drummond.” Over and over again, apparently.
    She made an exasperated face. “That was a mistake. Of course I don’t want you . I was referring to a fictitious duke, one that Cook tells stories about. As for Papa, I’m not some piece of meat to be bartered, and if he condemns you for backing out of your agreement, I’ll be sure to tell him I forced your hand.” She arched a brow. “Which I’ve just now managed. Haven’t I?”
    “No. You haven’t.” He heard the resolve in his voice and hoped it was having an effect. “I intend to adhere to the agreement I made with your father. We shall marry, whether you like it or not. Even if it means I have to drag you kicking and screaming up to Gretna.”
    “You wouldn’t dare.”
    Her bravado was rather intoxicating.
    “Yes, as a matter of fact, I would. And your father would do nothing to save you. You see, he believes we’ll make a fine match. I happen to agree. You’re a pleasure to look at, an adequate kisser—”
    “Adequate?”
    “So far.”
    “I’m far more than adequate for any man! You’d be lucky to get another kiss from me, but you won’t. Oh, no.” She gave a breathy chuckle. “I’ll get out of this. Just you wait and see.”
    “Believe me, it will be a long wait.” He wondered if his fascination with her was evident and hoped it wasn’t. Cool. Calm. Detached. That’s what he needed to be in his Service work, and that’s what he’d be with her. Even though something in him was responding to her like a dog to the scent of a fox.
    “I’m committed to my IF,” he said, “and I’ve no desire to turn back now, especially as you’ll bring me a hefty dowry. Our betrothal leaves me open to receiving a massive MR to boot. That is, of course”—he let out a satisfied sigh—“if OPL comes through. Which it should.”
    “I have no idea what you just said.”
    “Good.” He moved to her seat and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed just hard enough that she couldn’t get away without a struggle. “As much as you seem to despise me, I’m not a beast. I’ll give you one month to get used to this betrothal, and if you manage to play at being a docile fiancée during that time, I’ll kindly delay the wedding three months to accommodate your—ahem—timidity.”
    She rolled her eyes.
    “But in the next thirty days,” he went on, “you’ll make our attachment clear to polite society, or I’ll explain to your father in vivid terms why we need to marry immediately.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a stocking, and held it up for her examination.
    “Why, that’s one of my stockings! It even has my initials on it. Where did