“Do you have any idea what Miss Chandler expects from this union? Do you know the very least little thing about her besides the size of her father’s fortune?” Miss Beaton’s cheeks flushed and her eyes glittered. “Her preference in literature, her favorite food, her favorite thing to do on a rainy day? I’ll wager you don’t even know the color of her eyes.”

“They’re brown. I think.”

“You think?” She rolled her eyes. “There are so many shades of brown. Are they a dark rich brown or a do they have streaks of amber? What does their color remind you of?”

Miss Beaton’s green eyes were nothing like emeralds, more of a fern green, warm and alive.

She didn’t require fashionable gowns to be pretty. Even wearing that prudish white lace cap and lecturing him like a prim schoolmistress, she floored him with her loveliness and audacity.

He smelled a faint hint of lavender, the scent that always lingered in the hallways after she left the house.

“You don’t know the color of her eyes because when you look into them all you’ll see is her father’s gold coins,” she concluded, with an accusatory sniff.

“Gold is a noble color. The wife I have chosen for myself is one who will make very few demands upon me because we are both making use of each other. She wants my title to be the envy of all her friends in Boston. And I want a very large fortune. It’s a marriage of convenience and no one will question it.”

“Will she be a good role model for your sisters? If Miss Chandler will live chiefly in Boston she won’t be here to ease their way in society. Mightn’t it be better if you found a wealthy and respectable English lady to marry? A lady who was raised to become a duchess.”

“You’re quite opinionated on the subject of my marital arrangements.”

“Because you’re not setting the right example for your sisters.”

“I don’t owe you any explanation for my actions or my choices. I’m the duke.”

“You can’t just explain everything away by saying you’re the duke.”

“Seems to work most of the time.”

“That’s your problem. You’ve been given free rein in life. You’ve never had to answer for your actions or suffer the consequences for misdeeds. And when you require a bride, why all you have to do is select the wealthiest, most beautiful one.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you jealous, by chance?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her answer came glibly but something flickered in her eyes. He’d hit the mark. Interesting. “I could be soaking in a hot bath with a glass of mulled wine instead of standing here being chastised by a pint-sized virago about my choices.”