Page 21 of Never Dare a Duke
“How will it feel toyou?” he asked in a softer voice.
She glanced up at him. “You need have no worries about my tender feelings. I will see it as an adventure in my otherwise-boring life. And then I’ll return home and find a sweet country squire to marry, someone as settled and simple and dull as I am.”
“Dull?” He resisted the urge to tip her chin up to face him. He didn’t want to feel how soft her skin might be, how warm. “I would not call you dull.”
She suddenly seemed a bit skittish, as if she was surprised by his attention. “Then settled and simple.”
He laughed, and it felt strange to do so with a woman who wasn’t related to him. He had become so guarded, so careful, all out of need.
He could not allow himself to feel so relaxed, not even with a woman who professed no interest in him—and whose motives he still didn’t understand.
“I will give your suggestion some consideration, Miss Shaw,” he said at last.
She nodded gravely, but her eyes were alight with amusement. “Please do so, Your Grace.”
He turned to face her. “You, too, should understand what you are getting yourself into.”
“I already said I did.” Her expression was full of confusion.
“I will be taking your hand often.” He did so now, her small, gloved hand nestled within his. “I will lean near and speak to you in an intimate fashion.”
She licked her lips, her only betrayal of uncertainty, yet her nod was firm.
“I have already considered that. I will use it as practice for when I return home and look for my own husband.”
He considered her with amusement. “I have never before been used as a ‘practice’ suitor.”
“That you know of,” she countered.
And then she winked.
And something inside Christopher flamed higher with a need that had to be fought.
As the duke returned her to Gwen’s side, Abigail couldn’t help but notice the stares they received—the stares she’d been receiving ever since they were seen walking from the rear of the castle ruins. She took it all in stride, congratulating herself on coming up with the perfect way to remain conspicuously in sight and yet at the duke’s side to listen to—and decipher—everything he said. She had not been lying when she’d told him she didn’t care what people thought about her. Other than Gwen, she would never see these people again, for her world in London might as well be on the other side of the country from theirs.
Abigail allowed Gwen to pull her a little away from the party because it fitted so perfectly with the scene she’d staged.
Gwen spoke through smiling teeth. “How did you end up with the duke? I saw him leave with the ladies.”
“And he abandoned them for me.” Quietly, Abigail told her friend everything that had transpired. Well, not quite everything. She couldn’t explain how it had felt when the duke had backed her up against the wall and leaned over her. There weren’t words to describe such tumultuous and breathless feelings—and she usually knew how to come up with words!
“You’ve found the perfect way to remain close to him,” Gwen said, admiration shining in her eyes.
“Do not congratulate me yet,” Abigail said, watching as Lady May and Lady Theodosia bore down on the duke from opposite sides. “He has not agreed.”
But His Grace turned and gave Abigail an impassive look, and she had the triumphant feeling that he was gladly going to accept her suggestion. She would have him to herself, she thought gleefully, and she could discover everything about him. After all, they would have nothing to dobuttalk.
Which only made her think of the other thing men and women did together. She firmly suppressed a shiver. Theywouldn’tbe doing that. She would only go so far for her story. Deceiving the man was bad enough.
“Cold?” Gwen asked. “Would you like my shawl?”
“Thank you, no,” Abigail answered, looking away to avoid her friend’s eyes. “I don’t think we’ll remain outside for long. Lady Elizabeth looks like she’s going to speak.”
When the young woman stood alone in the center of their gathering, blankets and tables filled with people surrounding her, she clasped her hands together and smiled. “I have brought you all here because this is where the recorded history of the Cabots began.”
She gestured gracefully to the ruins behind her, which reflected into the pond, a dual image of a savage and distant past, when even then, the Cabots were nobility.
“Over four hundred years ago, my distant ancestor became the earl of Chesterton, a title my brother still holds—until he has a grandson, that is.”
