The Perfect Duke by Dawn Ireland

past events.
    Mallory pursed her lips, and ran her nails back and forth along the skin under her chin during his tale. “You’re sure of this informant?”
    “Lord Bradford has made inquiries into the matter for me. The cooper spoke the truth.”
    “Do the Pembertons know?”
    “Do you think she would be here if they did?”
    “Point taken. So, you’re betrothed to her.” Mallory gave a sudden grin, leaned over, and flicked his cravat. “I imagine that shook up your ordered world.”
    “Your amusement at my expense would not be considered ladylike.”
    Mallory raised a brow. “Has that ever stopped me?”
    Garret sighed again and stood, pacing in front of the fire. “No, little sister, it has not.”
    “You’ve been deceiving her all this time?” Mallory gave him a reproving look.
    “What choice did I have?”
    “So you brought her here to court her?” Mallory glanced up at the portrait of their grandfather. “Or was it to see if Miss McClure fit into the elevated notion you have of what a duchess should be.”
    “I did need to see if she would be acceptable.”
    Mallory leaned back in her chair. “Oh, Garret, when are you going to stop this charade? Grandfather’s been dead for years now.”
    “It has nothing to do with grandfather. I made Edward a promise.” Why couldn’t his siblings understand?
    Moisture glistened in Mallory’s eyes. “I can’t believe that Edward would have approved of what you’ve become.”
    “And that is?”
    “A man who no longer listens to what his heart is telling him. You make your decisions based on a warped old man’s standards.”
    Garret stood. “I have responsibilities that you can not begin to fathom. My own desires died with Edward. I vowed that nothing, nothing , would tarnish the Kendal name now that I am duke.” He crossed to the liquor table, poured a brandy, inhaling the slight blackberry aroma as he took a large swallow. “The title should never have been mine.” He swirled the alcohol in the glass, watching the whirlpool that formed, then raised his glass and swallowed the remainder in one gulp. Heat seared his throat. “I do not deserve to be the duke.” It had to be the brandy that made his voice sound strained.
    “You’re wrong.” Mallory stood, crossed to him, and touched his arm. “You weren’t to blame for Edward’s death, and you could be a better duke than any Kendal that’s ever lived.”
    Mallory always had been given to exaggeration. But, no, he knew what was right. “I’m glad to know you don’t think I’m entirely above redemption.”
    “You aren’t. Bringing Miss McClure here has proved that.”
    Her gaze held a wisdom that surprised him. When had she grown up?
    “I know what Grandfather would have done.” She poured some red wine into a glass and took a sip, in spite of the reproving arch of his brows. “Only one question remains. Have you found Miss McClure suitable?
    “Yes.”
    Mallory shook her head, wonder lighting her features. “Thank God for that, though I haven’t the slightest idea how she managed it.” She moved to stand in front of the fireplace, then gazed into the flames. “Garret, how do you feel about her?”
    He returned to his seat next to the fire. “She’s attractive, and she won’t embarrass the Kendal name. What else do I need?”
    “I should have known.” She turned to him with a wistful expression. “I’d always hoped that you’d fall . . . Never mind. I like Miss McClure. At least she’s not that pinch-faced Regina. When do you plan on telling your governess about her heritage?”
    “After the marriage has been consummated.” His manhood hardened at the thought. Before too long, Cara would be his.
    “What! Do you think that’s wise?” Mallory set her glass on the mantle. “How does she feel?”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Well, does she have feelings for you? I doubt you’ve been exactly a charming suitor. Besides, she still thinks she’s a vicar’s daughter and a