Page 81 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“Do you trust her?”

“Utterly,” she said without hesitation. “Eurydice would never betray me, nor I her.”

Because they had been reliant upon each other when they were orphaned.

“And she is clever,” Miss Goodenham admitted. “I think the prospect of success much higher with her aid.”

Alexander nodded understanding, moved more by her trust in Miss Eurydice than her confidence in her sister’s wits. “Then by all means, confide in her, but not others, I beg of you.”

“It shall be as you say, Your Grace.” Still she did not meet his gaze and it seemed to him that her breath came quickly. He guessed that she wished for further reassurance but knew not how to ask for it.

The situation was damnably unconventional.

His gaze rose to Rupert, who evidently was fascinated with the ceiling. Should he send the other man away? His desire for Miss Goodenham was acute, but he would not ruin her and leave her with doubts of his intent. He did not know precisely what he might say to feed her confidence in his honor.

Inspiration came from the fact that Daphne was staring at the vine, which now spilled to the very floor and reached for the ceiling.

Alexander knew its tale might be of aid. “The seed was a gift from my sister,” he confessed. “And a legacy of Airdfinnan. I dropped it into water but one night ago.”

“But that cannot be! It is of such a size.”

“It is said to grow and bloom only when the Laird of Airdfinnan courts a bride.”

“Am I wrong that you would be that laird, Your Grace?” she whispered.

“You are not, and before you ask, I do mean to court a bride once this matter is concluded,” he admitted. “To be sure, I had no plan of doing as much, but I met a most beguiling girl, in a tavern, no less.”

She flushed and began to smile. “Beguiling, sir?”

“And marvelously perceptive, as well,” he agreed and smiled. “I like people who look beyond appearances.”

Her gaze clung to his. “As do I, Your Grace.”

“It would please me greatly if she granted me some small sign of encouragement.”

Alexander barely had time to utter the words before Miss Goodenham cast herself at him with pleasure. He caught her in his arms, savoring the sweet press of her against his chest.

She framed his face in her small hands and studied him intently. “’Twas your eyes that gave you away, sir,” she murmured. “You must promise not to look at any other girl so intently before your quest is complete or you might be revealed.”

“The quest to name the thief or the quest to have your hand in mine?”

“Both!” she said with a smile.

Alexander chuckled and held her closer. “I vow that I will not,” he agreed, then bent to taste her lips again.

* * *

Daphne could not believe her good fortune.

The duke was not a fop! No, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. And he had no ungainly paunch. She had pierced his disguise and even better, he had trusted her with the truth and vowed to defend her. She was convinced that she was the most fortunate woman in all of England, and that was before he kissed her.

It was even better than the first time.

She was the most fortunate woman in all the world.

He broke his kiss and looked down at her, his gaze filled with a lazy satisfaction that thrilled her beyond all else. “My true appearance must remain a secret.”

“I will never betray you, Your Grace.”

---