Free Forever Mine by Delilah Marvelle Page A

death, he had abandoned socializing with women altogether. Which was as sad a story as any, even though it was also achingly sweet and romantic. Something she never thought a man capable of being given the behavior of her own father.
    Of course…rumors were just that. Rumors. They couldn’t always be trusted. And neither could men.
    “Lady Ascott?” he prodded.
    Her stomach dropped, noting the way he stared in unnamed concern. “The festivities are lovely, thank you,” she managed.
    The duke set a gloved hand against his waistcoat and inclined his head. “I am pleased to hear it.” He lowered his hand and smiled. “Might I join you for a small while? I have been meaning to talk to you.”
    She set her chin, not wanting to encourage conversation. In her opinion, she had already allowed for too much interaction with him throughout the Season given that they had danced together at every single event and he always spoke with her mother for at least an hour in tote at such events. She often wondered if the man felt sorry for her. Everyone did given her family’s tragedy. But it wasn’t she or her family that needed pity but Nathaniel himself who had been lost to an unspeakable fate.
    Though her heart annoyingly always beat faster in the duke’s presence, for he was handsome, intelligent and genuine for a man, she had no time to entertain the idea of men. Despite her mother’s plans to settle her into a new way of life outside her father’s black presence by seeing her wed by the end of her first Season, she was counting days, not suitors.
    The duke leaned toward her and offered in a low flat tone, “I’m trying not to be offended by what appears to be an unusually cool reception. Should I leave?”
    Her cheeks warmed, realizing that he was pointing out just how rude she was being. “Forgive me for being rude. I am not myself today.”
    “Ah.” His tone warmed considerably. “I sensed something wasn’t quite right. Having an unpleasant day?”
    She lowered her gaze and muttered, “More like an unpleasant life.” She paused, regretting that she had said that aloud.
    He shifted toward her, searching her face in concern. “Might I sit beside you on the bench? Or would that be imposing too much given that we are alone?”
    She sighed, sensing he wasn’t about to go away. Scooting her bum aside, whilst ensuring her gown didn’t drag against the ground, Augustine gestured toward the space she had made on the bench. “Please. Sit.”
    “Thank you.” With a swift turn of his body, he settled his large frame beside her and shifted toward her, the subtle, clean fragrance of shaving cream and soap making her all too aware of his presence. “I have been known to give good advice.”
    She shifted away. “I have no interest in advice.”
    “Then how do you expect to overcome whatever ails you?”
    “Nothing ails me.”
    He smirked. “Is that your way of saying everything ails you?”
    She eyed him. “Is there something you wanted, Your Grace? Aside from trying to play Samaritan to a woman sixteen years younger than yourself?”
    He was quiet for a moment. “Am I to be honest in this?”
    “Honesty is always appreciated considering how little of it exists in the world.”
    A gruff laugh escaped him. “A bit cynical, are we? You may want to stay away from that. Cynicism eats away at one’s heart over time, and you, my dear, are far too young to have so much of it. Even I don’t have that much at five and thirty.”
    “I see. And is that your advice to an ignorant and tragically naive lady trapped in the woes of her first Season?”
    He eyed her, his features tightening. “Do you want me to leave, Lady Ascott? Because I can. Despite what you think, I am not here to burden you. I have only been trying to gain your favor. The question is, is your favor really worth gaining given the way you are treating me?”
    A part of her crumbled. Since when had she taken on the role of a diffident monster? This wasn’t