The Duke Who Didn't (Wedgeford Trials, #1)

by Courtney Milan

An enormous smile spread across Andrew’s face—so large and so accepting that Jeremy could not help but smile alongside him. Dear God. Why would he want rent on a minor property when he could have companionship instead? “Ah, Posh Jim.” Andrew bumped his shoulder. “You’re a traitor to your own class. I like that in a wealthy man.

“Oh yes. They’ll think you have excellent luck indeed. They’ll suspect you of lucking me all night long.” She’d just said it. Right out. The thing she shouldn’t think about but did. She should be ashamed of imagining the heat of his skin, the exchange of their breath— She set her jaw and glared at him, but she could feel her wants under her skin, and it wasn’t his fault, no matter what she told herself. “Chloe, my dear.” His voice was gentle. She didn’t want gentle. “I’ll luck you anytime you wish. But I don’t think anyone who has ever known you would imagine you to be so easily won. You’re not easy. You never have been.” She exhaled. “No.” A good reminder. “You have always been worth the effort.”

“I want my wife to intimidate me. I want to know that her enemies will all fall before her. That’s the kind of woman I want by my side. She had better be intimidating.”

In his defense, he’d been fourteen—an age that had described the number of brain cells he had as well as the number of years he’d spent on the earth.

There’s neither death nor dismemberment present. Put that down—I want a wife who specializes in mild revenge.” She balked mulishly. “Wouldn’t you rather have one who makes friends with your very wealthy neighbors?” “Chloe, my dear, I am half-Chinese. Being wealthy does not stop me from being half-Chinese. My wealthy neighbors will always know that I am half-Chinese. A wife who took their side over mine would be intolerable. I could not live with such a person. A wife who is committed to mild revenge on my behalf, however, who makes the neighbors feel that they have no choice but to treat me with respect? That’s who I want.”

His aunt loved him; Jeremy knew she believed that. But she also thought he was a mistake. She would always look at him and see an error in the shape of his eyes, the curve of his nose. She might have loved him, yet she had no idea how he needed to be loved. “If you say one word against my mother, I will never speak to you again.” Root out every poisonous vine. He saw it now, in startling clarity. Some of those vines cared for him, but that didn’t make their poison less toxic. He’d made excuse after excuse for his aunt. She loved him. She meant well. She wanted the best for him. None of that mattered.