Page 45 of A Night of Passion with the Duke

The sun was warm on her face and neck, and the air was fragrant with blooming flowers. She loved spring among all the seasons.

“Lavender becomes you,” Edward commented suddenly.

“What?” she asked, not sure she had heard him correctly.

“I said lavender becomes you.” He looked almost boyish in the way he reddened.

She blushed at the compliment but asked how he knew the exact shade of purple she’d worn.

“My mother decided to punish the fates for not giving her a daughter and dragged Charles and me with her whenever she went shopping,” he explained, shuddering. “Before then, my knowledge of colors had been severely lacking.”

Arabella laughed and tried to imagine little Edward in a shop, looking at fabrics.

“How old were you back then?” she asked.

“Ten, and Charles was eight.”

“Oh God.” She laughed. “You must have been traumatized.”

“I was for the first few years, but when I saw it made me popular with the ladies, I started to pay more attention.”

Arabella felt a spike of jealousy at his words but pushed the feeling aside. She couldn’t have expected him to stay celibate all his life. He was a man, and society didn’t exactly have the same expectations for him.

She slapped his arm playfully. “You’re such a cad.”

“I was young then.” He laughed. “Did you never have any wanton moments? Perhaps a stable boy you kissed in your teenage years?”

She wrinkled her nose and slapped his arm again. “I was a prim and proper little girl,” she said proudly. “There was no kissing for me.”

“Anyway, everything changed when Charles and I went to Oxford,” he continued.

A dark look crossed his face then, and he paused.

“Are you all right?” Arabella asked, squeezing his arm.

He nodded but said nothing.

She decided not to pry but was already missing the warmth his conversation brought.

“If it’s any consolation, I absolutely hated fabric shopping and dress fittings.”

His eyebrows dipped in a questioning look. “But you’re a woman,” he stated. “How old were you?”

“Twelve or thirteen,” she answered. “I thought them pointless and entirely painful. There were so many pins.”

“What would you rather you did?”

“Riding.”

He stumbled and nearly took her down with him.

“You like horses?” he asked, coughing awkwardly into his hand.

“Absolutely,” she chirped. “There’s nothing quite like feeling the wind in your hair.”

It had been so long that she missed it dearly. She hated that she had to leave her mare, Missy, behind, but it was one of many prices she had to pay for her actions.

“We should go together tomorrow,” Edward suggested. “I’ll have a mare prepared for you.”

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