“What?” she challenged, readying herself for battle.
He drew in a fortifying breath. Her anger was spectacular, and he loved sparring with her, but this was important, and he didn’t wish to offend.
“You’re going to be angry with me if I say it.”
“I am almost always angry with you, Your Grace. How would that change things?” she drawled.
He leveled her with a determined stare. “You need legitimacy. You need someone to lend your organization and your words authority.”
“Yes,” she countered, throwing her hands up. “I know. Why would you think that would make me angry? Why do you think that I have written to you so many times?”
“Forgive me for taking so long to understand. That’s why I assumed you’d be angry. Because I finally do understand.”
“Oh,” she replied, as if she was glad that he had reached this conclusion that she had no doubt formed long ago.
He cleared his throat and stated, “I would very much like to be the patron of the Ladies’ League of Rights, if you will allow me to be.”
She stared at him for a long moment, her jaw all but dropping to the green-and-white Aubusson rug. “You cannot possibly mean it.”
“Indeed I do,” he assured. “I only regret that I did not offer it to you sooner.”
She gasped with apparent relief, but then she stared at him with suspicion. “What has made this change?”
“You,” he said honestly.
“You like me, and so you’ll help me?” she exclaimed. “Just like a—”
“No,” he cut in. “I only like you a little, anyway.”
She scowled at him. “Come, now; out with it. What has caused the change?”
He was still for a moment, then replied, “It was something that you said to me.”
“Something I said?” she echoed, her shoulders relaxing as she looked mystified.
He nodded. “You told me that everyone always bows and scrapes and tells me what I want to hear and that you would not do that with me. And ever since, I have noticed when people bow and scrape. I always knew that they did, but I just assumed I was supposed to accept that. After all, I’m the duke.”
He shook his head and looked to the windows. “I never wanted to be, you know. No one actually wants to be a duke, but when you are the duke, you become accustomed to it, and you think it is your due.”
He swung his gaze back to her, astonished to see how serious she had grown. “You reminded me that I am just a human being, even if I do have the title, and I should question when people bow and scrape, and I should question my own response to it. It has been a revelation in the way I view the world, and I am deeply grateful to you because it has given me a feeling as if I am more in the world than out of it.”
“Did you ever feel out of the world?” she said softly, her eyes widening with sympathy.
“When one is a duke,” he explained, not allowing himself to indulge in self-pity, “one is always a little removed. We are not like others.”
“Is this arrogance speaking?” she asked carefully.
“No, it is a fact,” he stated with a shrug. “We must always be isolated, because the truth is, people never want us for ourselves. They always want us for what we can give them. Did you truly ever wish to know me?” he asked. “You never wrote me a letter asking me about myself, did you?”
“No,” she allowed quietly. “I never did. Nor did I particularly have any interest in knowing you, Your Grace.”
“William,” he returned gently. “That is my name. And I am named after William Shakespeare because my mother and father loved his plays so well. That is who I truly am.” He locked gazes with her and stated, “The rest, well, it’s just ornament.”
“Ornament often tricks us,” she pointed out.
Was that it? The only thing she had to say after his confession? His spirits sank.
But then she held out her hand. “I am grateful to meet you, William,” she said brightly. “It shall be a pleasure having a lesson from you today.”