Never Met a Duke Like You by Amalie Howard

Author:Amalie Howard [HOWARD, AMALIE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2023-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

Aspen sensed the minute that Vesper returned to Harwick House. The woman was like a hurricane on the horizon—he could taste her on the wind. But she hadn’t yet ventured near the study, where he’d been with her father all afternoon, lost in thought over the articles for the proposal to Parliament following Harwick’s impassioned discourse on love.

Aspen couldn’t discount the duke’s take, but a lifetime of painful experience had brought him to an entirely different conclusion. Love was a beautiful snare—one that had snatched his father and eaten him alive. And while he knew his view on the matter might be cynical, Aspen was in no hurry to fall into a similar trap.

“Shall we take a break for now, Harwick?” he asked, pocketing his spectacles and rubbing his gritty eyes. “I think I have everything I need for the next session.”

“Oh yes,” the duke said, looking up. “Deuce it, it’s quite late, isn’t it? Would you like to stay for a spot of luncheon? I suppose it was rather rude of me not to offer before.”

The hurried tapping of boots echoed down the marble staircase, accompanied by the faintest scent of mayhem and wildflowers, and the old duke lifted a brow when a lilting voice called for one of the footmen to arrange for her horse.

Aspen stood abruptly. “Not at all, and I’m afraid I must decline anyway. I have a pressing engagement.”

“Pressing, you say?” Harwick asked with a knowing smile as if he could see right through Aspen’s lie and his haste to depart after overhearing Vesper’s request. His neck heated and he tugged at his collar. Bloody hell, was he that transparent that even the old duke would know he meant to chase after his daughter?

Aspen felt a dull flush warm his face. “I just remembered,” he said half-heartedly. “I must meet someone.”

“Does that have to do with a certain headstrong blonde?” the duke teased.

Aspen opened his mouth and closed it. Good God, were his bloody cheeks warming?

“I am just ribbing you, lad. Go, enjoy what’s left of the day. I’d go for a ride myself if my arthritic bones didn’t plague me.” He waved him off, but just when Aspen reached the door, the duke spoke again. “You know, on occasion, I do enjoy a good artichoke. It takes work to get through all the hard, wiry layers to the heart, but it’s quite delicious when you do get there. Sometimes the roughest, thorniest of artichokes have the most succulent of hearts.”

“Are we talking about vegetables, Your Grace?” Aspen asked with a frown.

Harwick shot him a wink. “A good lemon butter does the trick.”

Aspen blinked in confusion before taking his leave. The man was a brilliant mentor, but by God, he loved to go off on metaphorical tangents. Only the Duke of Harwick would compare his prickly hard-nosed daughter to an artichoke, but Aspen couldn’t fault him for the comparison. He was beginning to believe that Vesper was more than the facade she put out to the world.

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