Page 32 of The Wrong Duke

“I suppose so,” she accepted softly, letting go of the yellow material, sparing it a final longing glance, and then putting her head down as she hurried from the store. She passed the Duke on the way but didn’t dare acknowledge him.

“Sometimes...” Her mother clicked her tongue. “...I wonder why I even bother. Lord Malnor, are you...” She smiled at Lord Malnor who bowed his head.

“After you.”

“After me, you mean,” Martha said rightly, stepping in front of the Marquess and hurrying from the store.

“And Your Grace?” her mother asked coldly. “Will you be joining us?”

“Um... no, I don’t think so.”

Amelia was halfway through the door when she heard it, and she very nearly turned back around to see what was happening. Her stomach twisted, and she stumbled.

“Oh?” her mother queried.

“I think I’ll remain in London for a few hours longer,” the Duke said, “but I’ll be back at the manor later this evening, I promise.”

“If you say so,” her mother said quickly, delight coloring her tone. “Take your time.” And with that, she was quick to shuffle from the store as if lingering might see the Duke change his mind.

From the street, Amelia could see the Duke still inside the tailor. He didn’t meet her eyes, purposefully avoiding them as he glanced about the store, and although she did not wish it so, she felt her heart crack just that little bit. What had happened this morning between them... she had no idea what to think of it. Clearly, the Duke was not of the same mind.

It was but another attempt made to unmask her before the Marquess, and this time, it had worked. More than ever, she wished that her father wasn’t forcing Lord Malnor on her. And although she dared not admit it to herself, refusing to even think it, deep down a small part of her wondered at what her sister had said the previous evening. What if it was His Grace instead...

* * *

“Sir, is there something I can help you with?” the seamstress asked.

Evan wasn’t paying attention. But then again, that was the theme of his life of late. At least as far as this morning was concerned, anyhow. All morning, his mind had been elsewhere as he’d been forced to reckon with the possible consequences of what he’d done.

And it wasn’t fear of being found out that worried him. It wasn’t his reputation that he was concerned about. Nor was it what Lord Malnor might say or think if he knew — technically, Evan should have welcomed such an event, for that would have put a stop to the courtship that he was unknowingly in the middle of.

Instead of all that, Evan was left to ponder on one unassailable truth that nipped at his heels like a hungry puppy, no matter how many times he shooed it away. He didn’t want to admit it. He refused to accept it for fact just yet. But based on what had happened between himself and Miss Baker, and in the face of a deep yearning that seemed to grow whenever she came to mind, it was becoming harder and harder to deny that he was developing feelings for the young lady.

As frustrating and abhorrent as that might be.

“Sir?” the seamstress tried again.

“What — oh, yes.” Evan pulled himself back into the store, giving his head a shake so as to dispel the path his mind had been wandering all morning. “Sorry, I’m afraid I became distracted.”

“That is quite all right, Your Grace.” She gave a small curtsey. “But is there something I can help you with? A suit for the ball, perhaps?”

Truthfully, the reason that Evan had remained behind had nothing to do with his desire to continue shopping. To put it simply, he wanted to be as far from Miss Baker as was possible for fear that her presence alone might stir something within himself that he wasn’t willing to admit to just yet. Even electing to come along today had been a foolish notion, more of a reflex than anything, because he told himself still that his chief concern was Lord Malnor’s wellbeing.

Lord Malnor’s wellbeing. He chuckled coldly to himself as he considered what this meant. If he really did care so much for his friend, what he ought to do was tell him what had happened this morning. But the thought of revealing this to anyone, most of all David, had Evan’s stomach twisting itself into knots.

He was embarrassed. That was the sensation that besieged him. And not embarrassed by what he had done but how it made him feel. Ordinarily an embodiment of self-control and cool detachment, never in his life had he cared about what others thought. This went double where women were concerned. But this was different, and despite his refusal to admit it, he knew exactly why.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Evan said to the seamstress. “In fact, I should be going.”

“If you say so, Your Grace. But if there is anything you need...”

Evan went to leave the store. A drink was what he needed. A chance to clear his head and consider everything that had happened and how he meant to deal with it.

But it was as he started from the store that he caught sight of that same yellow material that Miss Baker had been eyeing earlier, the one she had asked her mother for but had been refused. He stopped suddenly and stared at the yellow of the material, remembering Miss Baker saying that yellow was her color. As he studied it, his mind couldn’t help but picture just how lovely she would look if she was to wear it, rather than the hideous choice her mother had made for her.

He couldn’t say why he did it. Even though he knew the answer, to admit such a thing might just undo him. But before he could stop to think, he was pointing out the material to the seamstress and ordering a dress.

“I’ll require the measurements, of course,” the seamstress said as she pulled the light silk free from the hook.

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