He thought about it, thought about her as his wife rather than his lover. Though even that hadn’t happened yet. And immediately felt the chafing tug of responsibility at his neck. He’d run away twelve years ago to avoid that very thing. Even though she was alluring, he would not be tied down. It was bad enough he had to inherit a dukedom—and then he wished he could punch himself, he sounded so entitled—but he did not want the added binding of a wife.

So, yes, he wished for her company for a short time, as long as they had their bargain, but he did not want, nor would he expect, any more. They were agreed on that, at least, even though it seemed they agreed on nothing else.

Another reason not to marry her specifically. All she would do was argue with him. Perhaps in several years, when he’d finally become resigned to being a duke he could look for a wife. When he was too old to care.

“Speaking of making it easier to go about in Society,” he said, “I do have a young lady, a Lady Della, who is my betrothed.”

Silence, but Griffith could see his cousin’s face. He was wincing, as though Griff had dealt a painful, if expected, blow.

“Your betrothed. Lady Della Howlett?”

“You know her.”

Frederick’s jaw tightened. “Everyone knows her. Everyone knows she—”

“Stop.” Griffith held his hand up. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“But she—”

“No.”

Frederick heaved a clearly exasperated sigh. “I hadn’t expected when I said you could get away with practically anything as a duke’s heir that you would already be testing those limits. Although I suppose I should have, knowing you.”

“It’s not true.” And why was he telling Fred anyway? Was it because of Frederick’s disapproval, or in spite of it? “We’re not actually engaged. She and I have made a bargain. She has agreed to keep me company as I return to Society, and I am doing something for her.”

What that something was entailed either giving her the benefit of his cock or helping her locate her friend’s husband. Depending on what aspect of the bargain one was looking at.

“But why?”

Griffith shrugged, unwilling to admit that the thought of entering Society on his own was as terrifying as it was.

“I suppose it is because she is like me.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way before. But it was true, wasn’t it? She had spurned Society to chart her own course, as had he. He’d seen how she was around her sisters and her friend. He knew she wanted to be able to see them, to have her family.