Page 12 of Never Dare a Duke
She looked baffled at the direction of their conversation. “Uh…yes, I do.”
“But with this recent visit to London, you have won the prize of a stay at Madingley Court,” he said sarcastically.
She cocked her head. “I am not quite sure that feeling uninvited and bothersome to my dear friend and her hosts counts as having ‘won the prize.’”
He arched a brow as he stared down at her. From their first meeting, he had appreciated that she was a woman who could still speak coherently when talking to him.
“My mother would not have included you if she hadn’t wanted to,” Christopher said shortly. “You are not bothersome to her, or I’m sure to Lady Gwendolin—only to me.”
“It will not happen again, Your Grace,” she said softly.
But she did not lower her head in meekness, only continued to stare at him. And in that moment, he had an insane urge to push her back against a tree and kiss her, to discover if her body was as soft and welcoming as it looked. There was a crackling moment of tension between them, and what brought him out of it was that she seemed just as surprised as he was.
They both took a step back.
“Might I leave, Your Grace,” she said, “before my face is so red that I shan’t be fit company?”
“You may.”
She turned and left, not hurrying, and he was able to watch the sway of her hips, the way her skirts almost seemed to shimmer. Between the lush curves of her hips and breasts, she had a narrow waist that made her almost look delicate.
But he guessed that Miss Shaw was not the delicate sort.
Had she gotten away with a deliberate offense against him? He would have to keep an eye on her—and subdue his impractical thoughts. He had not had a woman in several months; surely that was the reason he was noticing everything feminine about her.
That evening before dinner, Abigail was trying to decide which gown to wear to give the impression that she was slightly repentant but not crushed. Was that even possible?
It had been far too thrilling to face down the duke of Madingley though she’d been in the wrong. He’d been furious with her, she knew, but somehow they had not been able to stop looking at each other. She didn’t know what to make of the strange sensations that had buffeted her contrary body.
Just before they’d parted, had he actually been staring at her mouth?
She had to stop thinking such ridiculous things. The duke had three beautiful women waiting for his attentions. She had to concentrate on what was important—that he’d long felt he had to make up for the past, according to his mother.
What had happened in his past?
She was relieved to know that she was on the right track. The duke had a secret. What could have happened that no one but family knew about? Abigail couldn’t imagine quizzing his sister. At least not in a bold manner, she amended. But if his family wouldn’t talk, there were always the servants, many of whom must have begun their employment when the duke was a child.
But she regretted how much harder she’d made things for herself by being discovered eavesdropping. The duke was bound to remain suspicious of her. She would have to tread very carefully.
There was a knock on the door, and Gwen peeked in.
“Might I come in?”
“Of course. You can help me choose a gown.”
Gwen looked radiant in gold for her first dinner at Madingley Court.
“If you don’t want the duke’s attention,” Abigail said dryly, “you might want to wear a less stunning gown.”
“Stunning?” Gwen echoed happily. “What high praise! But there are other men here to impress.”
“All of whom are interested in Lady Elizabeth.”
“I do not believe that is true,” Gwen said, primly lifting her nose in the air. “While you were mysteriously absent, I discovered that the vicar, Mr. Wesley, had only been invited to even our numbers at the dinner table.”
Abigail gasped. “And he knew that? How sad!”
“No, no, he always volunteers his services. He says he owes the family a great deal and regards them highly.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “He did like to go on about them.”
