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The Duke's Perfect Wife(31)

By:Jennifer Ashley


David had nicely primed the target, Hart saw. “Mr. Fleming can be crude,” he said. “Put it down to his upbringing.”

Neely gave Fleming an unfriendly look. “What do you want?” he asked Hart.

“Your help.” Hart spread his hands, the words coming easily to his lips while his body sat back and craved Eleanor. “My reforms, Neely, will strike to the heart of matters dear to you. I hate corruption, hate looking the other way while human beings are exploited in the name of enriching the nation. I’ll stop such things, but I need your help to do it. I can’t work alone.”

Neely looked slightly mollified. Hart knew better than to appeal to him by promising gains of power or wealth—Neely was a well-off, upper-middle-class English gentleman with strong ideas about one’s place in society. He disapproved of David’s wild lifestyle and Hart’s vast estate, but he didn’t condemn the two men entirely. Not their fault. Hart was a duke, David the grandson of a peer. They belonged to the aristocratic classes and couldn’t help their excesses.

Neely also believed that the duty of the higher classes was to better the lot of the lower classes. He wanted them to remain peasants, of course, but happy and well-cared-for peasants, to show the world at large that the English, at least, still practiced noblesse oblige. Neely would never dream of drinking a pint “down at the pub” with a coal miner or hiring a Cockney pickpocket to be a valet to his brother. But he’d certainly fight for better wages, lower bread prices, and less dangerous working conditions.

“Yes, well,” Neely said. “You have put forth some excellent ideas for reforms, Your Grace.” He wet his lips, gaze darting first to David, then Hart.

David caught the look and shot Hart a glance. “Perhaps we can sweeten the pot, eh?” David asked. “I sense that you wish to ask us something. You’re in confidence here. Words will go no further than the three of us and these walls.” He patted the cushioned velvet beside his head.

Hart expected Neely to ask for another tax on the aristocracy or their help on a pet project, or some such, but he surprised them by saying, “I wish to marry.”

Hart raised his brows. “Do you? My felicitations.”

“No, no. I mean, I wish to marry, but I am afraid that I am acquainted with no eligible, unmarried ladies. Perhaps, Your Grace, with your wide circle, you could introduce me to someone suitable?”

While Hart hid his annoyance, David took a pull of his cigar, removed it, and looked through the smoke at Hart. “Perhaps Lady Eleanor could help? She knows everyone in the country.”

Neely perked up at the mention of a title. “If this lady would be so kind?”

David stuck his cigar back into his mouth, and Hart gave him an irritated glance. While Eleanor acknowledged that many women of her class married to make social or financial connections, she might not be best pleased at being asked to introduce the prissy and snobbish Neely to one of her friends.

“I have to caution you,” Hart said to Neely, “that even were Lady Eleanor to agree to help, whether the young lady in question accepted your offer of marriage would be entirely up to her. A marriage is too nebulous a thing to guarantee.”

Neely thought about this, and nodded. “Yes, I see. Well, gentlemen, I will consider things.”

Hart felt the fish slipping away. But he had no interest in scouring England to find this man a bride. He’d have to resort to threats, not exactly what he wanted to do this night either.

Before he could speak, David blew out smoke and said, “Tell us what you really want, Neely.”

Hart glanced at David in surprise, then he wondered how he’d missed the signs. Neely was nervous, far more than a man wishing to be introduced to the right woman.

Hart’s head was not in this game tonight. Of course not. His thoughts were on the stairwell with Eleanor, her instant but innocent response, the taste of her mouth, the scent of her skin…

“You were about to ask for something else, before you settled on the safe topic of marriage,” David said, dragging back Hart’s attention. “Confess. You’re among friends. Worldly friends, at that.”

In other words, you can be honest with us, because we’re as bad as any gentlemen could be. You cannot possibly shock us.

Neely cleared his throat. He started to smile, and Hart relaxed. David had found a point of comradeship with him. Now to bring the fish into the boat.

Neely looked at Hart. “I want to do what you do.”

Hart frowned, not understanding. “What I do?”

“With women.” Neely’s eyes took on a hopeful light. “You know.”