Page 11 of Never Dare a Duke
The duke crossed his arms over his chest and glanced out the window. He was avoiding meeting her eyes—he was hiding something.
“You know how many things I have to attend to,” he said patiently. “I am surprised that I manage enough hours to sleep.”
“You have always been busy,” the duchess said in a gentler voice, “even when you were a boy.”
A smile quirked his lips. “But then I was busy doing inappropriate things.”
He had not always been the model of a gentleman, this perfectly controlled duke. At least he admitted it.
“You need to relax and enjoy your good fortune more,” the duchess said. “You have more than made up for the past.”
The faint smile slid away from the duke’s face. For just a moment, Abigail glimpsed a stark bleakness in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that she knew he was well practiced in hiding his emotions.
In a brisk tone, he said, “Mother, the past is long put to rest. Shall I tell you what I have been doing lately to distract myself?”
Abigail didn’t think she’d breathed, let alone moved, but suddenly the duke’s head lifted, and their gazes clashed. He had seen her. If she ran, he would know of her guilt. If she stayed, could she bluff her way out of it?
Heart pounding with excitement and dread, she knew she was about to find out.
Chapter 4
Christopher caught a glimpse of bright blue in the middle of greenery. Someone was listening.
“Christopher?” his mother said, when he didn’t continue. “What have you been doing to distract yourself?”
He gave her a brief smile. “I’m not sure that you deserve to know after what you’ve done here.”
She rose to her feet, scowling. “You cannot tease me, then withdraw. It is…” She looked like she was struggling to find the right word.
“Maddening? Now you know how I felt when I arrived today.”
She reached up and pinched his cheek as if he were five years old. “You never could keep a secret from me for long.” And then she whirled and walked away.
Christopher remained still, staring into a woman’s wide eyes, waiting for his mother to be gone. The woman didn’t run away, and reluctantly, he had to admire that. And then he reached for her and pulled her right through the bushes. He heard her gasp, saw the way a strand of her hair caught on a branch before pulling out of her chignon to trail across her shoulder.
It was Lady Gwendolin’s friend, Miss Shaw. She stared up at him. And he realized that along with her brown hair, he’d thought her brown eyes would match—but he’d been wrong. They were flecked with a warm gold, like hidden treasure. He thought a guilty woman would tremble, but she didn’t. She was breathing fast; if he put his hand on her heart, he would feel its frantic pace.
He suddenly realized the strangeness of his thoughts. Hand on her heart? By God, her family would be demanding marriage before the day was through.
He gave her a little shake before he let her go. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she said, and bit her plump lower lip as if with chagrin.
What would those lips taste like?
By the devil, the girl had been spying on him, and all he could think about was kissing her?
“I did not mean to catch you unawares,” she continued. “I was exploring, and when I heard you with your mother, I did not want to disturb you and have you think that I…”
She trailed off, fluttering her hands as if with helplessness. Why did he get the feeling that she was anything but helpless?
“I mean…we have only recently been introduced,” she finished lamely.
Christopher didn’t understand his anger. This was nothing a half dozen women hadn’t tried before. He almost felt…disappointed in her, and he wasn’t certain why. He didn’t know her—he didn’tneedto know her.
But he kept noticing random things, like how her voice was pleasantly modulated, a bit deeper than normal, but without a northern accent, though Lady Gwendolin had said she’d come from Durham.
“Surely you visit Lady Gwendolin often,” he said.
