Page 15 of Drawn to the Duke
But she must stop reviewing the past. Selina would be wise to remember that Edward was the one who decided if her conduct warranted her being allowed out of Boothe Hall again.
So, talking to the duke, she was careful with her words. This man’s charm might encourage her to speak a little too unwisely.
And if he caught her out in her lie, Edward’s reputation—and his pride—would be irrevocably damaged.
“Wild?” He quirked a brow.
Selina really should not have taken his silence as encouragement. However, it was so rare to have the attention of someone even mildly interested, much less the attention of a handsome man. A handsome, titled, influential man.
Despite her best intentions, her tongue had a habit of running away with her, as did her impulses.
“I suppose my first really defiant act was when I ran away when I was ten.”
“Ran away? From home?”
“Yes, I’d been chastised by my governess one too many times. A very charming guest of my parents visited with his mother, so I hid in their carriage when I was supposed to be locked up in my room.”
“How did you escape the confines of your room?”
“I climbed out of my window and when I saw the carriage, it seemed like providence.” Selina smiled. “I was discovered when these people had reached home, and it was nearly midnight. I received quite a hiding when I was returned. I suppose I deserved it.”
“Yes, your parents would have been concerned, I imagine. When I ran away from home, I was praised for my bravado. I, too, was objecting to authority—in my case, my tutor. But my parents disliked the man, and they used my rebellion as an excuse for why he could not exert necessary control, so he was dismissed. I remember feeling bad about that. To be truthful, Ididn’t mind my tutor. I was just responding to a surge of childish pique at being told what to do. You, Lady Boothe, clearly don’t enjoy having to conform.”
Selina shrugged. “I’m not very good at it, no. And I don’t suffer fools gladly.”
The moment the words were out, she clapped her hand to her mouth, for the inference didn’t reflect well on Edward. “Of course, my husband is another matter. His talent is prodigious, and I would do whatever I could to see it recognized.”
“How many times have you trotted out that line, Lady Boothe?”
“I am very dutiful when I remember to be,” she replied with a smile.
“And…do you chafe at being dutiful?”
Selina was prevented from answering by a voice from the house, calling his name, which brought them back to the present. She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a surprised laugh as she felt a spattering of raindrops breach the leaves of the plane tree.
“I certainly shouldn’t be out here,” she said, holding out her hands, palms upwards. “Edward will be horrified when I walk in covered in droplets of water. I’ll have to concoct a plausible excuse that I was doing something to further his interests. He nearly wouldn’t allow me to come, you know.”
The duke chuckled. “I shall tell him I elicited your help when my sister’s pug ran out through the door and into the rain.”
“Oh, would you?!” Selina clasped her hands together. “You clearly are a man of action who can think on your feet. Very admirable traits, Your Grace.”
“You think so?” He raised an eyebrow then took her by the elbows to draw her a little closer against the tree trunk where there was greater protection from the rain.
Selina swallowed. He was so close—his coat of burgundy superfine brushing against her exposed flesh—that she could smell the sandalwood soap he used, and a faint overlay of some spice. Nutmeg, she thought. She sniffed appreciatively then looked up to find him frowning at her.
“You smell very nice, Your Grace,” she explained. “At first I thought the rain had released the scent of some glorious flower but then I realised it was you.”
“Me?!”
“Yes. Distinct overtones of sandalwood and nutmeg.” She closed her eyes and sniffed again, adding, “And leather and brandy. Yes, I smell all those things.”
“Good lord, Lady Boothe. Your senses are finely attuned.”
“So I’ve been told. It helps when painting—” She stopped suddenly and he asked, “You paint too?”
“Just water colors. I’m not terribly good,” she said, surprised that he’d continued to detain her in conversation. How could she really be of interest to a man like him?
Though, of course, he had seemed interested during thirty seconds of darkness the night before when she had allowed him to run his hands over her body.
