Page 34 of The Duke's Spinster

“Like the Duke of Baskim? I understand he’s been around.” He chuckled.

If Boudicca had any doubts about her father having his ear to the ground, they were answered. He may not know everything that was going on, but he also didn’t know nothing about her current affairs.

“The duke, yes, that’s likely less about standards and more about connection. He’s a man though. He won’t admit to his feelings. He might say that he doesn’t like a woman for…her hair, or some other silly thing. But what he means is that there was nothing about her that made him want to stick around. No connection. No feelings.”

He chuckled again and tapped his fingers against the desk. “I’m only sharing feelings now in my old age.”

“You’re not old.”

“I’m getting there. But that’s beside the point. I must say, if it were only about standards, you would exceed his.”

“You have to say that. You’re my father.”

“Perhaps.” He covered his mouth as if to share a secret. “But I wouldn’t have said the same thing about Artemisia.” He winked.

“She meets a completely different set of standards.” Boudicca smiled, thinking of her hellion of a sister. The pause was filled with her knee bouncing up and down as she thought. “What about my standards? Are they too high?”

“A woman should never settle. It’s a man’s duty to protect her and take care of her. You do yourself an injustice if you settle.”

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “What if my standards are preventing a man from getting to know me?” She smoothed her hands down her breeches, a useless tactic in subduing the shaking leg.

“The right man will know exactly how high to jump. And if he doesn’t, he will continue to try. If he doesn’t know or doesn’t try, he’s not the right man for you, Boudicca.”

She should be grateful that there was no one forcing her to marry. That her father accepted her fate as a spinster or was encouraging her to find a true love match. She couldn’t help but wonder what her mother would say. She might be pushing her right into the arms of Wesley, only to walk in on them and demand a ring. No, she wasn’t really that kind. But Boudiccasupposed any woman could act differently out of desperation, and she had known that her mother hoped to see her married.

“How much…erm—instruction should I give him? That is, about how high to jump?”

Her father chuckled. “I wish I could tell you what you need to hear, my dear. If only your mother were here…” he shook his head and let it fall into his hands.

“I would love for her to be here, but if she were, I’d still come to you and ask questions.”

“I suppose that may be true. I shall leave you with this then. I knew I loved your mother from the moment she read the first book I ever gave her.” He lifted the biographical tome in the air. “She had never heard of Boudicca before, yet she read the book.” A warm smile filled his face. “Not only did she read it though, she said that Boudicca was a beautiful name and that she inspired her to reach for her destiny. And then she took my hand in hers. And I knew…” A soft sheen coated his eyes and a tear slipped out.

“She was the most wonderful woman I had ever met…” His voice was hoarse, and Boudicca could feel a lump forming in her throat.

“She was.”

He stood and came out from behind his desk. Boudicca rose to meet him and his embrace. And then he said exactly what she needed to hear, “So, my dear, reach for your destiny. When you see it. And don’t let go.”

*

The fencing matchhad gone well. Wesley felt as though he were improving his skills. If he gleaned even a few new moves, he could beat Samuel merely by taking points by surprise.And though he knew he had learned some new techniques today, he couldn’t remember what they were. His foggy recollective abilities may have had something to do with an overwhelming sense of anticipation for their secondary lessons. He remembered some lunging and some ripostes. But what was really on his mind was plunging back into her mouth and posting her up against the wall.

Kissing lessons devoid of passion. That was what he was supposed to prepare for. And he had told himself that all evening and all morning. It was the night time that he had been unable to restrain.

He had not had dreams of something so innocent as flowers again. Though there had been rose petals strewn across the bed, now that he thought of it. And her. Boudicca had been lying in his bed in her breeches, through which he could make out the exact shape of her legs and the apex of her sex. He had woken up hard in the middle of the night. Aching, he took himself in hand. He told himself it was for the best, lest he bring all that passion to her and their kissing lesson.

“Water?”

The question drenched his dreams, rushing them away. He glanced up at her holding him a glass. He took it and gulped it down.

“Shall we…kiss?”

And her reply was all matter of fact. “Yes. Let’s.”

She reached for his hand and drew him behind the screen. When she leaned her back against the wall, he could see by the tilt of her head that she wasn’t entirely sure of what she was doing.

“Do you still want to do this?”

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