Page 11 of The Lady's Guide to Well-Endowed Dukes
She vaguely wondered if Rockley was nursing a similar headache. She rather hoped he was, except that she didn’t recall him drinking much the night before. He’d been depressingly sober. The prig! If he’d loosened up a bit, he mightn’t have been so sanctimonious regarding her proposition.
Gingerly, she sat up and poured some water from the carafe on her nightstand. Drinking it down, she felt marginally better. She pushed the pillows into a more accommodating position, closed her eyes, and drifted off again.
There was a rapping sound.For the briefest moment, she had the notion that it was Rockley—as if their altercation of the night before had never happened and he’d come looking for her at last.
“It’s me, dear. Are you awake?” Margaret’s voice carried through the door.
“Just a moment.” Estela swung her legs out and threw on her robe. What time was it? Her head was immensely better. The spinning motion had altogether improved. Only her tummy still felt a little peculiar. Unlocking the door, she stepped back to allow her godmother entry.
“Thank goodness.” Margaret looked at Estela critically. “We wondered whether you might be unwell. That maid of yours is sitting on a deckchair out here, sunning herself. She tells me she tried three times to stir you without success. I see you’re fine, though you don’t look greatly rested.”
Margaret clapped her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening. “You didn’t—?” Her imagination was clearly moving at an accelerated pace. “We could see you had eyes for each other. It was part of the reason Oona and I left you alone, but we didn’t anticipate…” Her gaze darted about, as if expecting to see Rockley surprised from mid-coital action.
“Margaret!” Estela gulped back her laughter. “What are you thinking!”
Margaret pinked. “I may be a spinster but I’m not utterly green to the ways of the world. Lord Rockley is very handsome, and clearly enamored. I was only shocked to think you might have leapt into shenanigans on such short acquaintance.”
“That would be shocking.” Estela framed her features into some semblance of seriousness.
“Although, impulsive actions can sometimes encourage a man into expressing his feelings,” Margaret added quickly. “I wouldn’t discount such a course of action entirely.”
“I’ve simply overslept, and I’m very much alone. As pretty to look at as Lord Rockley is, he doesn’t interest me as a long-term prospect, and the feeling is mutual, I can assure you.” As open-minded as her godmother was appearing, Estela didn’t think she’d condone luring a man into bed for no reason beyond the unashamed seeking of pleasure.
Margaret arched one eyebrow. “Tush! I don’t believe it for a minute. An eligible gentleman with a dukedom! Yes, it’s true. I checked in the ship’s library directly after breakfast—which we were most surprised you missed. There’s a brand new volume of Debrett’s and there he is, Lord Theodore Rockley. Such a romantic name, and lands near Monmouth. ’Tis bonny country, though lacking the majesty of the Highlands.”
“You have been busy.” Estela folded her arms.
How had she not known the name? Was it because the estate was close to Wales, which was not somewhere she’d bothered to travel? Either that or her memory was slipping. In any case, it was inconsequential. Margaret’s claim that he was ‘enthused’ was a product of her godmother’s wishful thinking.
Margaret seemed to have regained her composure. “I’m merely saying what I see. You’re not in your dotage yet, wee Stella, and if a perfectly nice duke is wanting to pay his compliments, I hope you won’t be turning your nose up.”
She gave a sniff. “Anyway, I shall say no more. I came to let you know that Oona and I have made some friends while you’ve been sleeping the morning away: Mrs. Titby-Titton, and her daughter Tabitha. They’ve asked if we’d like to join them in taking a look at Bari. They’re experienced travelers, from all I can tell, though not in Flora’s league, naturally. I hope you shan’tmind us going without you. I guessed you mightn’t be disposed to escort us yourself.”
Estela’s conscience pricked. She’d promised to take her godmothers ashore. Instead, she’d drunk herself silly and forgotten all about the excursion. It wasn’t her finest hour.
“Of course, you should go.” She took Margaret’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry to have been so thoughtless. I’ll make it up to you. We moor at Port Messina tomorrow. Sicily isn’t to be missed.”
“Think nothing of it.” Margaret returned the pressure of Estela’s fingers. “I did wonder if you might prefer to spend your afternoon in the company of someone closer to your own age. So don’t be worrying about us. We’ll be having a grand time.”
She dipped her chin, looking pointedly at Estela. “Now, do get dressed, dear. One never knows what the day may present, and it does no harm to be looking one’s absolute best, does it.”
Estela felt strangely cheered.
When she did ‘happen’ to bump into Lord Rockley, she intended to show herself to full advantage.
CHAPTER 5
Rockley had already takeneleven laps of the deck. Looking again at his watch, he wondered how he’d managed to miss her. He was certain that Mrs. Bongorge had not joined the Misses McTavish for breakfast; nor had he observed her leaving the ship to go ashore.
If keeping to her room, she must surely emerge at some point, wishing to take the air. He had merely to keep watch. He would then intercept her and…
And what exactly?
Apologize? His choice of words to her had been unfortunate. Unaccustomed to being challenged, he’d perhaps over-reacted.
It was within her right to speak as she saw fit, regardless of whether that opinion irritated him. Moreover, he was aware that his reaction was an indication almost entirely of his troubled conscience regarding Miss Maitland.
With the date of the wedding looming closer, several worries quietly assailed him. He could not picture them sitting across the table from one another, engaging in light conversation. In fact, it was difficult to think of them as man and wife in any of the usual social situations. He’d little idea of her preferences regardingthe theater or music or art. Did he even know which poets and novelists she admired?
