The duke’s attraction was bound to blow itself out—as would hers, no doubt—and she would not, absolutely not demean herself by appearing to care what he did after that. She shrugged. “Most men are tomcats, everybody knows that.”

Now it was Hart’s turn to be offended. He’d planned to continue with his current way of life, which meant he would probably set himself up with a mistress once his wife took to living in the country with her dogs and horses. It was unreasonable to expect otherwise. But her attitude was insulting; if she could be faithful, so could he.

Hart waited for her next condition. She tensed and he knew this would be the big one. Women were devious—she hadn’t yet made any demand that was not laughably minor. They always left the sneakiest until last.

“My horse, Sultan, is my property and will remain so.”

Hart almost laughed. He hadn’t expected that, but given her passion for the animal, he should have. “Will you allow the stallion to cover some of my mares?”

She considered that. “If they’re of suitable quality, and Sultan likes the look of them.”

“Agreed. What else?” He waited. He could tell by the tension in her body that it was something he wouldn’t like.

She moistened her lips before she spoke and for a few seconds he was so focused on her mouth that he almost didn’t take in what she said. Almost. “What did you say?”

She lifted her chin and sent him a defiant look. “I want you to promise me that there will be no hunting of foxes on any of your properties,” she repeated.

“Out of the question,” he snapped. Never had he heard such a ridiculous proposition. He recalled the bleeding-heart speech she’d made to him over supper at the ball the other night. “Foxes are vermin.”

“They have a right to exist as much as anyone—besides, you know as well as I do that it’s the chase all you men like—the hunt, the blood, the cruelty.”

“Rubbish!” There was an element of truth in what she said—he did enjoy the chase—but, dammit, it was a tradition. A grand sport. And one he enjoyed.

“Whatever your reasons—or what you claim as your reasons—will you agree to cease all foxhunting on your properties?”

“I will not—and this is not the kind of subject that’s appropriate when drawing up settlements.”

“It is for me.” She sat back in her chair and folded her arms. Her mouth compressed in a stubborn line. Hart’s did much the same. There was a long tense silence.