Page 58 of A Night of Passion with the Duke

“Indeed.”

“There was a meadow like this in the estate I grew up in. I loved to sit there and read for hours as a child.” Arabella sighed, remembering the long hours she’d spent under the sun till she’d been old enough to care about her skin being pale and not dark.

“Why did you stop?”

“I became a woman.” She laughed darkly. “Mother warned me that men liked pale-skinned, elegant London debutantes, not brown-skinned country bumpkins.”

Edward laughed boisterously. “I’d have married you even if you looked like a country bumpkin.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt it.”

“What did you do for fun, then?” he asked.

“You really want to know?”

“Most definitely.”

“I loved fencing.”

His eyebrows rose to his hairline at her admission.

“Is it so odd that I find it interesting?” Arabella asked quietly.

He smiled. “Not at all.”

“So?”

“It’s just that I thought you’d say embroidery or the like.”

“Not all women have such placid hobbies, you know?”

“I’m starting to.”

She shook her head at him. “What was your favorite activity as a child?”

She expected he’d say playing pirates or knights, but his answer stunned her.

“Poetry?” she echoed.

“Yes.”

She sat back, looking down at him and trying to picture him as a little boy writing poetry. “That is rather…”

“Rather…?”

“Odd.”

“You aren’t supposed to judge childhood hobbies,” Edward pointed out playfully.

“I’m trying hard not to, but I imagine how adorable you must have been scrawling.” She giggled. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“Oh God.” She laughed again, unable to control herself. “Do you still write?”

“Yes.”

She quieted at his brusque honesty.

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