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

by Courtney Milan

Was there anything in life more pleasurable than the sensation of striking a dark line through an item on one’s list with a pencil? Yes. There was the visceral sensation of taking out one’s pencil and striking a dark line through the last item on one’s daily list. Finishing a list had an almost talismanic quality, as if the act of turning intentions into words, then words into deeds, carried a subtle magic.

“The place you are,” Mr. Fong said, “is not permanent. Stop waiting. Work with what you have and who you are to make what you want to be. I am waiting to see what you will discover.”

you can’t do everything.” “I am aware.” She reached out and jabbed his side. “People keep telling me this! Why do people keep telling me this?” “Um.” There was a long pause. “Possibly because you do not behave as if you are aware.”

“When your father hurts, you hurt, yes?” She nodded. “When you hurt,” he said, “it’s not your hurt alone either. It hurts me too. I can help, if you’ll let me.” If she let him help this once… She could be hurt. She could be hurt very, very badly. She was used to thinking that. The thought that he could be hurt if she didn’t let him help seemed odd and impossible.

“Don’t worry about how you seem. I want you to be…just you. Nobody but you.” She looked up at him. “The truth is,” he told her, “I’m not like you. I don’t make lists. I don’t have rational explanations for everything. If you asked me why I wanted you, I wouldn’t be able to give a carefully thought-out account. I could only say that you make me feel like the home I want to live in.”

“Ah Ba taught me to be resourceful. I’m not going to disrespect him by refusing to use the skills he taught me. I’ll make do, no matter where you are. You do not need to be useful for me to love you.” “Hm.” He sounded upset. “Then why did you go all that way to get the formula?” “So you could feel better. That’s enough for me.”

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.