The Other Duke by Jess Michaels Page A

“How terrifying.”
    “Yes,” he said, sinking back into his chair with a grim expression. “A fire could have roared out of control swiftly and endangered many. We are truly lucky.”
    Serafina glanced toward the dining room door that Lathem had departed from. “Lathem seems a good sort.”
    Rafe grinned. “He is. Although I was so distracted by his news of the fire that I only just realized he followed your order about the invitations rather than my own. Cheeky bastard.”
    “I think that proves what a discerning fellow he is. He knows when a person is being unreasonable.”
    Rafe shook his head. “How am I being unreasonable?”
    “Refusing eight invitations would be unreasonable,” she said with a sigh.
    “Oh, Sera,” he groaned.
    She reached out to cover his hand with hers. “A moment ago you said you would learn how to be a duke, yes? Well, allow me to teach you.”
    “You?” he repeated, staring at her hand over his, then back up to her face.
    She slid away, heat rushing to her cheeks, and nodded. “Yes. I was taught the intricacies of being a duchess for years while I awaited my marriage to your cousin. Who better to teach you than I?”
    He pondered that for a moment. “I suppose that is true. But you are not obligated—”
    “It is not an obligation. I would simply like to help,” she said softly. “You could have made these past few days a trial, but you didn’t. Besides, if you have altered our bargain to include a tutelage in pleasure, why should I not alter it equally?”
    “Tit for tat?” he said, his voice suddenly tense.
    She shook her head. It seemed she wasn’t explaining herself well enough. “No. Please, may I help you?”
    Slowly, he nodded. “Very well. And your first lesson is that I cannot refuse invitations.”
    She laughed. “No, my first lesson is that there are certain people you cannot turn down.”
    He let out a heavy sigh. “Could I not be eccentric?”
    “Not if you want to survive, Rafe.”
    He pursed his lips and waved toward the pile of invitations. “I will accept two.”
    “Three at least,” she corrected. “That will be enough to make it clear you are not shunning the Upper Ten Thousand, but not so many as to appear desperate to be accepted.”
    He rested his head on the edge of the table. “I’m going to hate this,” he said, tone muffled.
    “Quite possibly,” she said, using a reassuring tone, even though she could offer little reassurance. She flipped through the invitations. “Lord and Lady Aldridge are a good example. He is an important earl.”
    “But I’m a duke—do I not trump him?” he asked. “Or have I been desperately misinformed all these years?”
    She couldn’t help but laugh at his relentless teasing. “In rank, yes, of course you are above him. But your dukedom, if you recall, was until recently in financial ruin. It was why my father was able to convince Cyril’s father to arrange our match. That fact was common knowledge, and until you show them that you no longer leave the title in shambles, they will judge you for it.”
    “And what sort of fellow is Aldridge?” he asked.
    She tilted her head. “He is a bit older than you are, but not by much. I have met him and his wife a few times and they seem like solid people. Intelligent enough, without the foppery of some of the worst of the titled.”
    Rafe shrugged. “Fine, respond in the positive to Aldridge. And pick two more of these invitations to respond positively to. You can teach me all about the invitees on our way to the events.”
    Serafina glanced down at her stack of invitations and back up to him. “You do not want control?”
    “Great God, no. I trust you to make the right decisions in the matter and I promise you I shall not complain. Much.”
    She stared at him. In all the years she had been bound to Cyril, he had made it clear that there would be no decision made, not small nor large, in his household that would not be strictly overseen by him. To have