Free The Devil In Disguise by Stefanie Sloane Page B

“It’s no secret that every eldest male Clairemont throughout history has been expected to marry and continue the ducal line.”
    He looked out over the well-groomed park, his profile turned to her as he took in the shrubs that lined the walkways, the expanses of clipped grass, the strolling couples and nursemaids with their charges.
    “And I like you, Lady Lucinda,” he continued after a long moment. “You have a mind and you use it. You make me laugh, which I enjoy immensely. And though I feel sure that you’ve heard it a thousand times before, you are beautiful.”
    He turned his head to look down at her, pinning her with an intense glance. Lucinda couldn’t look away. Tension spun between them, heightening with each moment. The unfamiliar feeling of vulnerability surfaced up yet again.
    “I’ve no intent to court you for sport,” he resumed, pulling her from her thoughts. “I may be voracious and varied in my many appetites, Lady Lucinda, but in this I am single-minded and focused. You have my word.”
    She knew to the core of her being that she trusted him. After all, his line of reasoning did make perfect sense; a duke must marry, must have a son to carry on the family line. But beyond that, she sensed that William Randall, the Duke of Clairemont, meant what he said.
    And though her intent was to walk away with only King Solomon’s Mine after their time together, somehow knowing that he liked her—truly liked her, despite her candor and intelligence—made all the difference.
    Lucinda relaxed and allowed herself to enjoy the fine spring day. It was early yet, too early, really, for the more sophisticated set to be out and about, which made their walk even more enjoyable. In truth, when in residence at her country estate, Lucinda often walked for miles in the morning, the stillness of a world that had yet to completely awaken providing a stark contrast to her usual routine of social events and obligations.
    Though she’d never admitted it to anyone but Amelia, at times Lucinda chafed from all that went with her place in society. She was far too practical a person to suppose that she would be happy as a squire’s wife, but the lure of somehow being free of all of society’s expectations that accompanied being titled, rich, and well-bred could be oh so intoxicating.
    Perhaps this, in part, was what she liked so well in the duke. His utter disdain for the ton’s stricture and society in general was—well, to be quite honest, most refreshing. It was something Lucinda secretly admired.
    Regardless, she knew that if even a modicum of proper behavior was to be maintained, it clearly would be her place to set the standards.
    If she could.
    She eased away from His Grace, putting several more inches of space between them—and instantly missed his warmth.
    “Now I’ve offended you,” he said in a low tone before tipping his hat and rumbling a greeting to Lady Foxbury as her carriage rolled by in the street. The matron’s eyes widened with shock as she returned the polite gesture.
    Lucinda nodded to Lady Foxbury, quickening her pace when her polite greeting was returned. “Not precisely, no,” she answered. “You’ve surprised me, certainly. But this way of speaking one’s mind plainly is something I’m beginning to enjoy.”
    And something I could easily become accustomed to
, she thought.
    “In that case,” the duke returned, pulling her closer yet again, “let me be perfectly frank and tell you that I much prefer you by my side than several steps distant.”
    Lucinda laughed, knowing her rebellious body also enjoyed the nearness of his much taller, broader frame. “Your Grace, though I understand you’ve been out of polite society for some time, I suspect you recall what is considered appropriate behavior while courting a lady. This,” she said, motioning to the distance she was currently putting between them, “is acceptable. I will not have my reputation sullied for the sake of a