Ten Things I Hate About the Duke (Difficult Dukes, #2)

by Loretta Chase

Blackwood had said of Humphrey Morris that he had tongue enough for two sets of teeth.

“A gentleman! He! By birth, undoubtedly. As to character, he’s a fraction of the gentleman you are.” “Well, you know, miss, nobody’s as perfect as me.” “As I,” Mrs. Nisbett murmured. “Very well, you, too,” Keeffe said.

“Meant to ask about that,” he said. “Sun’s shining. Nothing in the air or sky promising rain. What’s the umbrella for?” “It’s . . . an accessory,” she said. “To a crime?” “It could be. Any minute now.”

“No interruptions,” he said. “I promise.” “I have a few more rules for you,” she said. “If you break any one of them, I shall personally murder you. And nobody will care. In fact, the ladies will help me hide the body.”

The Duke of Ashmont took his leave, looking pale and ill. Still, gentlemen often looked that way after a private conference with Papa, Cassandra told herself.

His primary task today was keeping his temper, no trivial assignment when all about him riders were behaving stupidly, and he couldn’t murder any of them.

“Why is this so exciting?” he said. “You, in trousers and neckcloth?” “Because you’re perverse?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “For heaven’s sake, Lucius. Do something before I do something—and you know it’ll be awkward at best. I have no expertise in these matters.” Another choked laugh. “Did I not tell you to lie there?” “I do not care for your dictatorial manner— Oh, sweet mother of Hercules.”

I’m only concerned that Papa will try to kill you.” “And who could blame him?” “I, for one. Youngish dukes in possession of all their teeth and passable good looks are in short supply.”

“She’s worried I’ll be assassinated.” “Wants to save the job for herself, I reckon,” Keeffe said.