Duke of Scandal by Adele Ashworth

“Isn’t that what Samson said to Delilah? And just look where it got him.” He snickered, one side of his mouth turned up acridly. “Be aware, Olivia; I am not so drawn to you—or any woman—that I will risk losing my own fortune, or more importantly, my life or my sanity, and I never intend to be.”
    Her jaw dropped open a fraction. Ironically, she couldn’t remember if either Samson or Delilah said such a thing at all, or who seduced whom first; her biblical knowledge was lacking. But that hardly mattered. She knew what lay between herself and the Duke of Durham. He didn’t like her, didn’t trust her, and he toyed with her purposely to get her to react in the negative every time they conversed in private. What kind of man did that to a woman he didn’t know?
    A cynical one.
    Someone hurt you badly, too.
    Such a thoughtful revelation about his hidden character surprised her. She had absolutely no intention of becoming close to this man, physically or emotionally, and she didn’t particularly want to ponder the idea. They didn’t need to like or enjoy each other, but they absolutely needed to get along. Her livelihood depended on their mutual cooperation.
    Sighing, Olivia surrendered and replied, “Perhaps, your grace—”
    â€œSam.”
    â€œOf course. I forgot.” Planting what she hoped looked like a genuine smile on her lips, she nodded once, in acquiescence. “Perhaps, Sam, you and I are not as different in pasts and in future needs as we might think.”
    He raised a brow at that, though offered no comment.
    She dropped her arms to her sides and took a step toward him. “What I mean is that regardless of how we view each other, and where our trusts lay, I propose that we tame our differences, combine our common experiences, and try to work together.”
    Olivia smugly decided her suggestion was quite satisfactory and would no doubt be agreed upon immediately, perhaps with even a shake of hands to signify an agreement of sorts.
    He apparently didn’t take it that way at all.
    The Duke of Durham stood upright once more, staring down at her, though his expression seemed more guarded than angry.
    â€œWe’re very different, Lady Olivia,” he grumbled quietly, his face and body tight with a haunted weariness hecouldn’t hide. “But that shouldn’t, and won’t, matter, so there’s no use dwelling on it. For now, I’m exhausted, in no mood for dinner, and would like to retire.” He strode past her and toward the guest bedroom where the footman had deposited his trunk and personal items. Without glancing back in her direction, he added over his shoulder, “We’ll start looking for my brother in the morning.” He shut the door behind him, turning the lock with a click.
    Olivia just stood there for a minute or two, staring at the newly painted oak, open-mouthed and suddenly deflated. The sky wasn’t even completely dark yet and he had gone to bed—no thought to eating, no thought of getting to know each other better, no thought to an evening of planning their next move together. No thought to her whatsoever.
    The brute.
    For the very first time, she felt a strange flicker of elation that she had been fortunate enough to meet Edmund first, and marry him instead.

Chapter 6
    H e couldn’t sleep. It had been hours—or at least it seemed that way—since he’d settled down between the cool sheets and laid his head on the feather pillow, attempting to drown his memories and current irritations in a sea of street noise and a grumbling stomach. He’d been an idiot to announce that he didn’t want dinner, that he just wanted to go to bed. He was famished, and tired, true, but not sleepy, especially with her in the next room.
    He was too wound up to doze off. Nerves on edge, he’d tried to relax, but the longer he tried, the more he just stared at the ceiling, picturing