The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior by Megan Frampton

Author:Megan Frampton
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-09-17T16:00:00+00:00

Dukes should not fraternize with anyone who is not their social equal (with the exception of earls, but no lower than that). Which means, unfortunately, that the only people to whom they can be friendly is other dukes—of which there are very few—and royalty, of which there are fewer. Dukes need to recall their positions at all times, and not get distracted by a clever wit, a friendly gesture, or a kissable mouth.

—THE DUKE’S GUIDE TO CORRECT BEHAVIOR

Chapter 17

“If you’ll just allow me, Your Grace,” Miller began. He took another cravat from the stack and put it around Marcus’s neck.

Like a noose.

The previous attempts were in a pile on a chair, their wrinkles and creases practically mocking Marcus for his determination to look proper, for one evening at least. Or so it seemed.

He waited, shifting impatiently, as Miller tied the fabric, smoothing it with a practiced gesture. Marcus resisted the urge to slide his finger between the fabric and his skin to give himself more breathing room. It would mean another attempt would have to be made, not to mention that he was about to go breathless, as it were, with no breathing room at all in his life.

He was about to take his rightful place, his dukely place, in society, which he had heretofore ignored, beyond taking advantage of his position for personal enjoyment.

He hadn’t cared before, but now, with Rose’s future happiness at stake, not to mention his own, he had to. And what was likely worse, he would have to do it with a smile on his face and pleasantries on his lips.

He wished he’d had more practice. With her. If he could get his lemony governess to smile, to regard him with approval, he could do anything. Of course he doubted that most young ladies were of the lemony persuasion, but neither did he think they would be as tempting to kiss.

“I believe this is the one, Your Grace.” Miller stepped aside so Marcus could see himself in the glass.

His cravat was, indeed, correct. As was everything else he had on. He looked absolutely presentable, not like the sort of man who would lure young ladies in his employ to his study to drink brandy, nor the kind of man who even have thoughts about said action.

Excellent. Now he just had to persuade every member of Society—not to mention himself—that he was truly that kind of gentleman.

Thankfully there was a knock on his bedroom door before he could tear the cravat off and haul Lily to his study for some much-needed—by him—kissing.

“Your Grace, the carriage is ready.” Thompson’s eyes widened slightly and then he nodded, as though in approval.

Poor Thompson. The previous duke, according to all reports, had been one of the stuffiest men, his only oddness being his fondness for cats. Likely he even wore a cravat to sleep in, so it must pain Thompson to see him now holding the title.

“I’ll be down shortly.”

He allowed Miller to brush off some nonexistent lint, gave himself one last look in the glass, and headed downstairs to his doom.

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