Page 56 of A Spinster to Reform the Duke
He traced the outline of her profile, the bold eyes, the slanting nose and the pink lips that kept smiling as she watched her mother’s playing. He even followed her every movement, with the hands turning the pages of the sheet music delicately, as he remembered the thrill he had felt the other day when she had retrieved that playing card from his pocket, with her fingers trailing over that part of his chest.
“Lady Rebecca,” he said quietly, finding his voice slightly shakier than usual. She turned to look up at him, those blue eyes so strongly fixed on him, he felt heated. “Would you care to dance another?”
“Another?” she murmured in surprise, her fair eyebrows shooting upwards. “You will start whispers, Your Grace.”
“Perhaps I am not afraid to start whispers anymore.” He meant the words, wholeheartedly, but she clearly didn’t believe him. She laughed, taking his words and his attempt at charm with a pinch of salt, yet she gave him her hand anyway, allowing him to lead her toward the others, to begin a cotillion.
As they danced together, more than once did Timothy glance to where his mother and uncle were talking together, thinking on all he had learned of his father that night.
What if I truly am my father’s son after all? What if…I have the capacity to fall in love and marry?
Chapter Eighteen
Something has changed.
Rebecca couldn’t put her finger on why it was, but the Duke of Frampington was somehow different with her. As they followed the rest of the party across Lord Herberton’s estate, heading toward what he had called the old ruins of a castle that were once on this land, the Duke never left her side, neither did he ever disentangle his arm from hers. Even when Lady Esther wandered at their side, purposefully pushing their chaperone at a little distance, pleading with him to come and look at the river with her, he refused, staying with her instead.
“She longs for your company, Your Grace,” Rebecca said conspiratorially as Lady Esther wandered off with her sisters.
“You had noticed?” the Duke said, teasing her. “I rather thought her subtle.”
“Ha! As subtle as my sister and your friend are.”
“Yes, Alexander has never been one for subtlety. He prefers to approach things plainly,” the Duke laughed as he gestured forward to the front of the group. Lord Herberton was showing the way across the estate as they stepped through grass and early meadow flowers, a sign of the emerging spring. Beside him, Eliza hung on his arm, and Amelia was not far behind.
Rebecca smiled a little, knowing there was one secret Lord Herberton and Eliza were keeping. Clearly the two had an understanding, Rebecca had even witnessed the proposal, but it was something they were keeping to themselves for now and had not announced. She supposed Lord Herberton wished to wait to see her father and ask for his blessing formally first.
“Here we are!” Lord Herberton called up ahead.
Rebecca lifted her eyes to peer beyond a copse of trees, to where an expanse of ruins opened before them.
“My, what a sight,” Rebecca said in surprise. She had expected perhaps a few crumbled stone walls, but not the bare bones of a castle that stretched out before them. She could even trace where two towers had once been, now half exposed like carcasses, with their staircases and other floors missing. Across the ground, it was possible for her to follow the lines of where the different walls of the rooms had once been, with the remnants of a staircase leading up to a partly paved floor.
“I am glad you like it,” the Duke said with glee, pulling her forward. They somehow overtook the others, with their chaperone hurrying along behind them. “I was keen for you to see it.”
“For me? I thought this was Lord Herberton’s idea to come here.”
“He may have got the idea from my suggestion,” the Duke offered a false look of pride before bending down and whispering in her ear. “I thought it would make you smile.” The proximity of his lips to her neck made her shiver with a kindle of delight, that shudder running up her spine with suddenness that she giggled.
“You have a habit of trying to make me smile.”
“It’s not a habit that will stop, I think.”
“Oh, enough of the charm,” she laughed, attempting to disentangle her arm from his. He let her go, but apparently reluctantly. As she explored the castle ruins, stepping over loose rocks, he followed her all the way, staying close behind her.
“I imagined this place could be inspiring to you. For your poetry.”
“You did?” Rebecca was so startled that she turned as she walked along a wall, her movement so sharp that she nearly collided with the Duke who was still walking on behind her.
“Oomph!” the Duke took hold of her waist to stop them colliding. She gasped, trying to step out of his touch in case anyone saw, but their chaperone was too busy picking wildflowers that had grown through the stones, and the rest of their party were at a little distance.
“You should release me now, Your Grace,” Rebecca whispered, looking up to him from beneath her bonnet. He chuckled and seemed to make a point of slowly releasing her.
His touches will be the breaking of my heart, I am sure of it…
She knew it was not good. This sudden greater intimacy between them was suspicious to her. Did he intend to make her one of his many ladies after all? Her heart could not stand it. It would be broken for good then, another scar to add to the one that was already there, yet she knew this one would be even deeper than the latter.
“Best not pick those, Lady Eliza.” At Lord Herberton’s voice, closer than Rebecca had expected it, she turned away and jumped down from the wall, putting a little distance between her and the Duke. Lifting her gaze, she saw Lord Herberton nearby with Eliza beside him. He raised a solitary sprig out of her grasp, and held it up for her to see clearly. “Highly poisonous.”
