This Duchess of Mine by Eloisa James

heart is giving out because of the pressure of being roused at dawn to argue problems that most of your peers merely read of in the papers, if they bother to do so. Villiers never took up his seat in Lords. When he was so very ill last year, after his duel, he recovered in bed.”
    Elijah put down his wine. “We are very different men. The ethical compass of Villiers’s life is bounded by the chessboard.”
    â€œYou are not listening to me,” Jemma said, feelingher hold over her temper slipping. “Villiers nearly lost his life last year, but he is here today because he retreated to his chambers. Had he pushed himself out of bed at dawn under the mistaken impression that there was no one else able to deal with a public furor, he would be dead.”
    Elijah’s jaw was set. “Surely you are not suggesting that I live the remainder of my life in bed? Lying flat, as Villiers did in the grip of fever? Perhaps playing a game of chess now and then?” He pushed his plate away, the food half-eaten.
    â€œThat seems an exaggeration.”
    His tone was courteous as ever, but she could see the leashed fury in his eyes. “You suggest that I should treasure life so much that I preserve it, as a fly in amber? That I should add to my allotted minutes by staying on my back, by giving up every ambition I had to do something of value with those minutes?”
    â€œYou needn’t—” Jemma began, only to be overridden by the steady voice of a man used to shouting down a chamber full of howling statesmen.
    â€œIn fact, you would have me become a man like Villiers, a man whose children are negligently scattered about the countryside, a man who cares for nothing but his next game of chess. Though perhaps you consider that an unjust appraisal. After all, Villiers does care about his appearance. So I would be allowed sartorial splendor and chess.”
    Jemma straightened her back, trying to force air into her lungs.
    â€œI could walk about with a sword stick and make absolutely sure that every man on the street understood that I was a duke, a man who by the fortune of birth considered himself just under the rank of theArchangel himself. Without lifting a finger to gain that status.” He picked up a silver cover and put it precisely on top of one of the serving platters with a sound like a slap.
    â€œLet me put this as clearly as I can, Jemma.” His mouth was a straight line. “I will shoot myself before I become the man that Villiers is.”
    â€œYou are unkind,” Jemma said, hearing a slight shake in her voice and hating it. She wasn’t used to battles of this nature. In fact, she never argued with anyone but her husband. Her sanctimonious, infuriating husband.
    Elijah obviously heard the tremor in her voice. He rose, walked to the cabinet and poured two tiny glasses of ruby-colored liqueur. Then he returned and handed her one. “It’s made by monks in France, from cherries. Or cherry blossoms.”
    Jemma took a taste and choked. The liqueur burned to the bottom of her stomach.
    â€œThe particular pastimes of the Duke of Villiers are not relevant,” he said, sitting down again. “But he and I are very different men. I cannot conceive of a life in which I drift around London, impulsively stopping for a game of chess with a friend. Or did you summon him this afternoon?”
    He waited, one eyebrow up. Jemma shook her head.
    â€œSo the duke happened by and you spent a delightful afternoon together, sharing a bit of light banter about his bastard children, a bit of flirtation, I have no doubt.”
    Jemma heard the naked anger in his voice with a shock of surprise. “You couldn’t be jealous of Villiers! Not after I gave up the chess match with him.”
    â€œJealous of a man who spends the afternoon telling my wife how beautiful she is?”
    She opened her mouth and he held up a hand.
    â€œTell me that Villiers didn’t