Page 59 of A Spinster to Reform the Duke
“Your Grace,” Rebecca said, trying to swallow around her suddenly dry mouth as the Duke of Frampington took a step forward. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter Nineteen
“Rebecca,” Timothy couldn’t address her with her title, not now. When she had parted from the room, he had been determined to go after her. He was infuriated with the constant attention Lady Esther gave him, it meant he barely had time to look Rebecca’s way, the one person in the room who he did want to look at and talk to. He was tired of being polite to Lady Esther now. All he wanted was to speak to Rebecca.
“Your Grace, this is not appropriate.” Rebecca stepped back, increasing the distance between them as he stepped further forward into the library. She was between the shelves and near a fire, with a lone candle on the hearth beside her. Her tone was much more formal than she usually adopted with him these days, and her eyes avoided his entirely, preferring to flit around the room. “We have no chaperone.”
“Then I will take advantage of the moment.” His words were evidently enough of a surprise to stop her from escaping him another time. She looked to him, those blue eyes wide as he hurried forward, with her feet planted still on the rug. “I must talk to you, without fear of a chaperone or anyone else watching us.”
“About what, Your Grace?” Rebecca murmured slowly.
“Your Grace? For heaven’s sake, Rebecca, you know me better than anyone by now. Call me Timothy. It is my name.”
“Timothy?” she said in surprise, one lone eyebrow arching. “That is not wise. You are a duke, no matter what our friendship, I cannot call you that.”
“Why ever not?” he pleaded with her, scared as she took a step away from him, angling her body. He could not come this close to lose her now. He wanted to talk with her freely, openly, to discuss this bond that was between them, without fear of being interrupted or seen by others.
Surely there is no great harm in it?
“You are still a duke, Your Grace, and I am a friend. I cannot call you Timothy.”
“Will you never be anything more to me than a friend?” Timothy felt bare. As if he had shed his clothes before her as he asked the question. Never had he uttered such a question, nor placed such hope in it.
“Your Grace, your charm is very good indeed.” She turned away from him entirely, brushing the hair back from her face. “You have enchanted many ladies, I know that well enough, and I have begged you again and again not to charm me.”
“What is so wrong with trying to make you smile?” he asked, finding himself following her around the room. She walked around an armchair, before making a beeline for the door. He reached out, taking her hand gently, pulling her back toward him. His touch was so soft that had she wanted to, she could escape him, yet she didn’t. It gave him hope.
“You always make me smile,” she murmured quietly, closing her eyes so tightly that the skin framing her features wrinkled. “That is the problem.”
“Problem? What problem? As far as I can see, you and I are always making each other smile. We enjoy each other’s company, we make each other happy, and you flirt with me as much as I flirt with you, I am sure of it.”
“Do not say such things.” Still she refused to look at him, turning her face downward.
“Why ever not?” He couldn’t bear it. Was she refusing him? He hadn’t even uttered what he wished for yet, hadn’t offered his heart up on a plate.
“You do not realize what you do with such things.” She spoke louder this time, opening her eyes and looking up to him, that gaze begging with him. “You have no knowledge, Your Grace, of what you have done to my pathetic heart each time you are kind to me.”
Pathetic heart?
The words confused him, but the word ‘heart’ was enough to give him greater hope.
“What have I done to your heart, Rebecca?” he asked, in such a low voice that he stepped closer to her, the distance between them so slight, he could have easily pressed his lips to hers. He waited though, wanting to hear with a fast thud of his heart what she had to say.
“What have you done?” she cried in a kind of despair. She tried to disentangle his hand from hers, but he wouldn’t let her. Instead, he laced their fingers together, making the touch more intimate. “You have lured my heart into a path I never wished to let it go.”
As if shocked by her own words, she attempted to turn away, her face contorted in agony. He walked with her, pulling her back with her hand, so that she collided with his chest, falling into him and placing his other palm to the very center.
That touch…
“What path, Rebecca?” he begged to know.
“Cannot you tell? Have I not said enough?” she said, her voice still spirited and strong. “I vowed never to fall for another man, not to let my weak heart care for another, and yet you have challenged that resolve. You worked your way past the guard of my heart and you made me care for you.”
“You care for me?” He was breathless with happiness. What elation this was! To have this feeling, to know that Rebecca cared for him too. Happiness was possible after all.
How else to describe this feeling but love?
He was sure of it now. He had fallen in love with Rebecca. He had become his father, without knowing how like him he was, his dalliance with other women was long past, as long as Rebecca kept saying such sweet things.
