Page 43 of A Spinster to Reform the Duke
“We are falling behind,” she whispered to him as they stepped out of the doors again and into the lobby.
“For I wish to speak to you without listening ears for a minute,” he said softly, speaking so quietly that he had to bend down to her, closer to her ear to speak. She found herself inhaling his scent as he came close. It was musty, yet there was something spicy there too, as if cinnamon lurked in his scent. She happily closed her eyes for a second, indulging in it. “I am sorry you had to see him again.”
“It was not so bad,” she said hurriedly, wishing to explain herself.
“Not so bad? I refer you to the amount of champagne you have drunk.”
She swallowed, knowing she couldn’t tell him the truth on the matter.
“Let us say it was my attempt to dull the effect of seeing him again. In fact, I do not think I needed the champagne as much as I thought.”
“What do you mean?” the Duke asked, still leading her forward through the lobby. “The pain is evident to see, if you will forgive me for saying so. It is pain I hate to see you suffering.”
“The pain is not as great as you think.”
“Do you still love him?”
“Your Grace!” Rebecca pulled on his arm, urging him to stop. “That is a very personal question.”
“Did you not say before that you and I feel we can talk to each other about anything?” the Duke asked, holding her gaze.
“I’m fairly certain you were the one who said that.”
“Do you not think it is true?” His question was coupled with a smile she found impossible to refuse.
“No.”
“No, you do not think it is true?”
“No, Your Grace.” She shook her head then lowered her gaze down at the floor between them. “No, I do not love Lord Armstrong anymore.”
Silence followed these words. It was like the calm after a storm, perfectly still, with not even the Duke’s breath disturbing it.
“In truth,” Rebecca began again, determined to explain herself, “I never really loved him, did I? I loved the idea of him. The man he presented himself to be rather than the man he truly was. That makes it much easier to move past when I realize I was in love with a creation.”
The Duke cursed under his breath.
“Why are you cursing?”
“Because he is a foul excuse for a gentleman to treat you the way he did.” He turned, leading her forward once more.
“You sound as if you hate him.”
“I do! And I am relieved that you do not love him anymore.”
“I do not love him, neither do I wish him ill will. I hope he will be happy., Though in truth, I pity him.”
“Pity him? Why?” the Duke asked, his voice intrigued as they stepped outside and descended the stone steps in front of the theatre.
“Because he married another he could not love, didn’t he? A life with someone he cannot love, I am not sure I can think of a more miserable life. Can you?”
When they reached the carriage, she realized he had not answered her. He offered his hand instead and helped her into the carriage, where their conversation immediately came to an end thanks to Eliza’s and Lord Herberton’s presence.
“Oh, Rebecca, we simply must accept. We must go.” Eliza’s voice tore Rebecca’s attention away from the hardened features of the Duke.
“Go? Where?”
“I have invited you all to my house for a couple of weeks for a hunting party at my country seat,” Lord Herberton said with delight, clapping his hands together. “Timothy will be there too, along with others. Say you will come, Lady Rebecca?”
