Page 64 of A Spinster to Reform the Duke
“I see nothing to be ashamed of in what we did last night.” The solemn tone startled her enough to look up from her cake and turn her focus to the Duke. There was something in his face that was unsettled, with a tight jaw and fidgeting hands as he scratched his chin.
“Please, Your Grace.” Rebecca had no wish to cause him injury to his pride, but her heart couldn’t handle this anymore. “Did I not make it plain last night the capacity you have to hurt me?”
Her question took down something between the two of them. Gone was the heat of their bickering, and there was only their keen stares as they looked at one another. His eyes were wide, and his lips slightly parted.
“Whoever said I wished to hurt you?”
“Never in so many words.” She shook her head. She would never accuse him of trying to willingly hurt her. “You do not know the capacity you have to hurt me by merely charming me for a few weeks, before you turn your focus to another lady.”
“Whoever said there would be another lady after you?” The Duke’s words left Rebecca with her hand outstretched toward the teacup, dumbstruck.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me,” he whispered, even quieter than before.
She swallowed, her mind struggling with what he had just said. She lifted the teacup, bringing it toward her, but he took it from her grasp, evidently doing so to get her attention. He placed in on the table between them, catching her gaze another time. His touch to her fingers as he took the cup was soft, yet it was warm too, reminding Rebecca of the heat of his kiss from the night before.
“Surely you know I care too much for you to ever treat you in that way.” He held her gaze, unblinking. She wanted to believe him, oh how she did!
“You said…” She struggled with the words. “You said yourself you were a rake, Your Grace.”
“I did. Perhaps the past tense is accurate in this case. ‘Was’, Rebecca. Who says I am now?”
Her lips parted and closed.
He said he was not capable of love. What is this, then? Respect? Care? Admiration? All fine things! Yet are they love?
“We cannot speak of this openly here.” He nodded his head at the others around the table. “We must speak alone.”
“As you wish.” Rebecca had meant to turn him down, but she didn’t. She found hope was blooming inside of her.
Am I a fool for hoping? Has the last thing to fall out of Pandora’s box claimed me again?
“This afternoon, take a walk with me in the garden.” He reached for the teacup between them. He must have mistaken it for his own, for he lifted it to his lips and gulped from it.
“No!” a sudden cry erupted across the table. China plates danced across the table top, as cups spun in their saucers.
Rebecca looked to the person who had caused the outburst, cutting all chatter to a stop as she stood from the table. Lady Esther was on her feet, reaching toward the Duke of Frampington with panic in her eyes.
“Spit it out, spit it out now!”
Everyone stared at her across the table, mouths hanging open.
“Esther, dear,” the Countess said beside her. “What on earth is wrong?”
“The Duke cannot swallow, he must spit it out now.”
“I have swallowed the tea, Lady Esther.” The Duke’s voice was calm and dark, before he glanced down at the tea.
Rebecca looked to the cup, feeling her spine grow weak.
“It was my cup,” she said slowly. “I hadn’t taken a sip.”
“Lady Esther,” Lord Herberton sat forward in his seat. “What was in Lady Rebecca’s cup?”
“It was…erm…” She was struggling to speak. The Duke placed the cup so hard down in the saucer that a clatter erupted between everyone gathered around the table.
“What have I just swallowed!?” he demanded.
