Page 70 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
He would like to have delved further into her relationship with her father but she clearly did not want to talk about it. And it really was none of his business.
He poured the boiling water into the pot and added some shortbread to a plate on the tray holding the cups and saucers that he had readied earlier. How had he guessed she would prefer tea to wine?
‘I will bring this through to the sitting room.’
She went ahead of him and he could not help but notice the way her gown clung to her figure, outlining the rounded shape of her bum that he had caressed almost a week ago.
And had been longing to see in all its naked glory.
He swallowed. He was not a beast. He was a man. He would give his lady tea before falling on her like a plundering pirate.
But fall on her he would.
She sat on the sofa and patted the seat beside her. ‘Shall I pour?’
‘Please.’ He leaned back, forcing himself to relax.
Her movements were graceful and sure. The turn of her wrist elegant. Her dark eyes expressive when she held up a lump of sugar.
‘One lump,’ he said, proud of how calm his voice sounded when his heart was beating a steady tattoo in his chest.
He loved watching her move.
He took his cup and they sipped quietly for a moment.
‘So where did you spend the summers with your uncle? At the family seat in Dorset? St Baldwin’s, isn’t it?’
His throat constricted. He never went to Dorset. He never discussed his life there. It always made him feel too uncomfortable. Sad. Angry. Out of sorts.
He forced his voice to be calm, distant. ‘I see you have been looking me up in Debrett’s, after all.’ He didn’t mean it to sound like an accusation, but it was one of a sort.
‘That is why it is printed, is it not?’
He hated how people thought they knew all about him because of what they read. And then assumed it gave them some sort of access to him as a person. As if he had no private life at all.
But Barbara was not simply a stranger met at a party. Surely he could not blame her forbeing curious.
Indeed, perhaps he should be pleased that she cared enough to look.
‘I spent my summers at Woodburn. Its proximity to London made it more convenient for Great-Uncle Thomas.’
‘I see.’
‘And I preferred it to St Baldwin’s.’
The chill he always felt when talking about St Baldwin’s, settled around his heart. He opened his mouth to explain.
Good Lord, was he going to pour his heart out to this woman and ruin the day? Certainly not.
‘It’s a big draughty old pile that was once a monastery right on the cliff tops.’
‘It sounds like the sort of place a boy would love to run free.’
He bit back a harsh retort. He was not going to discuss his feelings about St Baldwin’s.
‘What about you?’ he asked. Debrett’s hadn’t listed anything about her family except that her father was a diplomat, which he had already known. ‘Where did you grow up?’
‘In boarding schools.’
