Noble Destiny by Katie MacAlister

that if he was forced to see beyond the shallow surface of her character.
    She patted his arm nearest her. He stared down at the butter-yellow glove resting on his sleeve as she said, “It will no doubt come as a great surprise to you, but I, too, have had occasion to give in to a pout. I’ve found them most refreshing, as long as they don’t go on too long. Then they can cause wrinkles.”
    Dare straightened his shoulders and shot her a warning glance. “I do not pout, madam. I am, if anything, merely brooding over the many injustices done me of late. Brooding is not pouting. It’s as far removed from pouting as is possible. Women pout, men do not.”
    â€œPheasant feathers!” Charlotte scoffed. “It’s a pout and nothing but a pout. And to what injustices are you referring? You don’t mean our marriage, do you? Because if you do, I shall be forced to be offended and take action.”
    â€œWhat action?” Dare couldn’t help but ask. He wrestled his bad mood back to its accustomed place. Just being in her presence gave him a sense of something so remarkably akin to happiness that it threatened to blow away the clouds of his foul mood. And he couldn’t have that, because without his cloak of self-pity, he would have to admit to feeling things for Charlotte that were best left unrecognized.
    â€œI should challenge you to a duel.”
    Dare jerked at the reins, narrowly avoiding driving over two unwary lady’s maids. He tossed an apology over the side of the phaeton before turning his attention back to his bride-to-be. “Obviously the stress of the last few weeks has taken its toll on me. My hearing has become quite unreliable. Would you repeat what you just said?”
    â€œI said that if you meant our marriage and future together was an injustice, I should take action, and that action would translate itself as a duel. Pistols, I think. I never was any good with Matthew’s sword, but I am reckoned quite a crank shot with a pistol.”
    â€œCrack,” he corrected automatically, wondering if somewhere along the last day he had lost his mind. That or his life had turned into a French farce. Either explanation would make sense. “Ladies do not fight duels, Charlotte. Not with pistols, not with swords, not ever.”
    â€œI have never been one to follow the dictates of fashion, my lord.”
    Dare stared at her in disbelief. “Of course you are. You don’t think about anything but what’s fashionable and the latest shot with the ton .”
    Charlotte appeared to think about that for a moment. “When it suits me, yes, but oftentimes what Society says is reasonable and fashionable doesn’t suit me.”
    He had to concede that point. Charlotte did exactly as she wanted, regardless of what anyone thought of her actions, whether it was wearing a beard and codpiece to a masquerade ball or running off with a penniless foreign nobleman. He sighed over his unconventional bride for a moment before admitting to himself that her originality was most decidedly an asset. Still, he wasn’t about to start out his new life as a husband with his wife in the position of power. There was no better time to make it absolutely clear who would be in charge in their marriage.
    â€œLadies do not fight duels, Charlotte,” Dare said in his best end-of-the-discussion voice. “Now, as I told you earlier, since you have no family present, my sister will be happy to help you plan your wedding.”
    â€œ Our wedding.”
    â€œThat goes without saying,” he said with only a minor tightening around his chest. Maybe he would survive the experience after all. Maybe, after a few years, he would get use to his bondage and could look forward to, if not happiness, then a pleasant existence.
    â€œAnd I notice you are the one who is taking great pains to avoid saying it,” Charlotte pointed out. “I cannot help but feel,