Page 12 of Drawn to the Duke
One fleeting, barely intercepted look of smoldering interest before His Grace responded to Lord Saunders’ question regarding their expedition later that day.
Had Selina really been gazing at him, and if so, what might have been written on her features?
She was not a lovelorn miss out for adventure.
But how strange that since that brush of his hand upon her breast, her body had felt so full of longing.
Selina hadn’t felt longing in years. Oh yes, she’d longed to leave Boothe House which felt more like a prison.
But Selina had felt little physical yearning since she’d been seventeen and her body had been on fire for handsome Samuel. He’d eagerly encouraged her interest by suggesting the wicked assignations behind the stables that had led to her ruin.
After Edward had caught them and threatened to tell their father, Selina had agreed—against her better judgement—to run away with Samuel the following night.
However, during her widowhood, Selina’s conduct had been impeccable.
Samuel had died with a reputation as a man of great talent who’d squandered his wealth, but since many in the district had benefited from his profligacy, Selina had been accorded a modicum of respect she worked hard to safeguard.
And she was not about to risk that by throwing either herself—or longing looks—at any handsome eligible gentleman who crossed her orbit.
Not that Lord Chauncy was eligible. He was an aristocrat far above her on the social ladder. Selina was a daughter of a mere baronet. And a somewhat scandalous widow, at that.
Besides, Lord Chauncy was in the midst of contracting a match. The likeness he’d commissioned was for that very purpose.
But the look he sent her over that plate of steaming haddock made her throat dry and her breath race as she held it for just a split second longer than she ought.
And then Miss White was rising, pushing back her chair, and saying brightly to the ladies, “Shall we take a turn about the gardens?”
Selina thought this an excellent idea. Not only would it quell her agitation, it would afford her the opportunity to solidify her plan of concealment for when her brother set up his easel in the conservatory to paint His Grace.
Though perhaps it would be sensible to plead a megrim so she could slip away with her purloined paper and pencil and leave the ladies to their walk.
Selina would be less constrained if she was alone.
Smiling at Miss White, she offered her excuses and headed toward her bedchamber.
A little later,glad of the good weather, Selina nestled against the trunk of a plane tree and a border of shrubs.
His Grace sat upon a bench inside the glass walled conservatory with Edward angled to the left, affording Selina clear access to do her work.
Not just to run her pencil over the paper, but to really observe his lordship in repose with him none the wiser.
Starting from the faintly curling dark hair at his crown, following the line of his forehead above clear, intelligent eyes, and then his straight, Roman nose, and his slightly full lips, Selina felt the intimacy of her project like she never had before.
Now she was the one exploring Lord Chauncy, as he had explored Selina the night before. But she could do it at leisure and in depth.
She swallowed as her pencil shadowed the hollows of his cheeks, tracing the delicacy of his mouth.
He carried himself with an air of entitlement. His look communicated the same.
And she reminded herself that he was a man who would be denied nothing.
And that men like that were dangerous, for they took with impunity, and what had occurred last night was nothing more than a duke’s passing whim.
And that’s all Selina was. The duke’s passing fancy.
Selina paused, her pencil just above the firm jawline she’d sketched. She had to cast aside thoughts like that to focus on the task at hand which was to render as realistic a likeness of their host in as short a time frame as possible so that she could slip back to her room and then re-emerge for luncheon as someone who really had been suffering an indisposition.
As her eyes returned to the scene in the conservatory, she caught Edward’s stern look and remembered her duty. Speed was of the essence.
