The Ugly Duckling Debutante_FINAL-3 by Rachel van Dyken

He forced himself to make small talk about the weather but received nothing but short replies.
    He sent up a quick prayer, then asked the dreaded question. “Why do you hate me?” He braced himself for the impact of her words, praying it would be painless.
    She laughed in return. “Are you so selfish of a man that you think the world revolves only around you and your feelings?”
    He didn’t know if he should agree or be silent. He chose the latter.
    “I despise you for what you stand for; I hate you for making me feel like this is my fault, like I threw myself at your feet. I am not some wanton girl trying to trap the great Nicholas Renwick in the gardens. I am not that girl, how dare you accuse me of being anything less.”
    Her eyes filled with tears, making Nicholas's heart constrict.
    “I didn’t mean it; I was upset.”
    She snorted and shook her head.
    “I’m not good for you. I’m not marriage material—you must see that.” His tone was turning dangerously desperate. He shook his head then pulled her hands from her lap kissing each wrist with his lips. “You deserve to be a duchess; you deserve a life I can’t give you. A life without sin, a life without baggage. You aren’t norm—“
    “Nicholas Renwick, if you say I’m not normal, be prepared to face the consequences. And I do not wish to get blood on my new dress.” She glared at him, making him retreat further into his seat.
    “Sorry.” He put his hand on his temple and rubbed. “I mean only that you are not like everyone else. I’m the one who’s not normal. Like I said, I’m not good for you.”
    “To put it bluntly,” she added for him. “I’m not good enough for you, and you're upset, which I couldn’t care less about. I’m not any happier about this situation than you are, so for both our sakes, let's just make it through the next few days without causing physical harm to each other, agreed?” She held out a gloved hand, and he had no choice but to take it, admiring her spunk with every word she spoke.
    “Do you like ducks?” he asked.
    Her face scrunched up in confusion. “Excuse me?”
    “Ducks,” he repeated. Her face became more confused than before. “Birds,” he clarified. Nothing. “Animals that fly, and people shoot them for sport and—”
    She put up a gloved hand and smiled weakly. “I know what a duck is, Renwick.”
    He ignored her. “I find that ducks make me feel better when I’m upset.”
    “Because you shoot them?” she retorted.
    “No, I don’t shoot ducks. I must admit I’m a terrible shot. I am actually quite good with a sword, but guns always seemed too inhumane, not sporting at all.” He shook his head as if to protest more. “Ducks, however, make me feel better because they are beautiful. Their feathers are made perfectly to deal with water, and it naturally runs right off their backs.” He noticed the interest pique in her eyes. He smiled and knocked twice on the carriage door. “Off you go.” He hopped out and held his hand for Sai to take. She snubbed him but tripped over her own dress, falling directly into his arms with a loud yelp.
    Those who were walking through Hyde Park at the time laughed at the obvious lover’s quarrel. Nicholas, of course, couldn't hear their exact words, but he could guess accurately because he had been around the ton long enough to know how the gossip worked.
    “Next time, accept my help, or I can’t promise I will catch you.” He put her on her feet and watched her straighten her skirts. “What a terrible situation to be in if your skirts suddenly flew over your head.”
    “You would know,” she snapped.
    He winced. “Touché. Shall we go see the ducks?”
    “Does water run off your back as well, my lord?”
    He rolled his eyes. “It's Nicholas, and no. It used to. I hadn’t a care in the world, but when I realized what harm my actions caused, it seemed water never stayed on my back, but penetrated deep into my soul, making me the blackest