Page 12 of The Lady's Guide to Well-Endowed Dukes
That was his own failing. He’d been remiss in not making greater efforts. He’d leapt into Frederick’s shoes so quickly, doing what he thought was morally correct, that he’d given no thought as to whether he and Miss Maitland were suited.
Mrs. Bongorge’s declarations were impertinent, since the affair was none of her concern; and yet, perhaps her very distance from the matter gave her objectivity.
He tried to remember Miss Maitland’s reaction when he’d initially made his offer. Marriage proposals usually occurred in a joyful setting, whereas they’d both been in the throes of grief over Frederick’s passing; it muddied the waters. She’d asked for time to think but sent a note of acceptance no more than a day later. He’d taken it as a sign that his actions were absolutely correct but, of course, she would have taken advisement from her parents. The response was theirs as much as her own.
Coming to one of the benches set out along the promenade deck, Rockley seated himself, looking across at the view. The harbor was picturesquely curved, reflecting the vista in its still waters: tall palms and stone villas, gleaming white.
He’d never visited Bari. Were it not for his desire to speak to Mrs. Bongorge, he would have gone ashore. If she were to appear, there was still time. They might explore together.
He shook that thought away. He merely wished to make his apology. Anything else would complicate things. Despite their cross words, she tempted him in a way that was dangerous. To his shame, his imagination had been full of her while satisfying the arousal with which he’d woken.
It should be Miss Maitland he thought of, if he was to think of anyone…but he could only picture her retreating from him, looking horrified. He’d been telling himself that he’d work things out somehow. Plenty of people married who began as strangers.A closer bond could be formed in time. Yet one fundamental difficulty remained—perhaps insurmountable, in every sense of the word.
He could not sit here, pretending that he waited for Mrs. Bongorge purely to make his apology. He knew in his heart what he wished to discuss. It would no doubt shock her but he had a feeling that, if anyone were able to help, it would be this woman.
That thought excited him far more than it should.
It was toolate for breakfast, and too early for luncheon. Nevertheless, the Maître d' seated Estela in a quiet corner of the dining salon and she was able to order several dishes, accompanied by a pot of steaming coffee. Now that her stomach had settled, she found herself inordinately hungry. Once fortified, she intended to take a turn about the deck. If she should happen upon the duke, so much the better.
Despite having woken in such a poor state and having much upon her mind, she was in good looks, much aided by the careful choosing of her costume. The stiff white taffeta striped in raspberry pink brought out the roses in her cheeks, while her hat, jauntily positioned and with a cascade of full-bloomed peonies upon the uppermost side, provided the perfect finishing touch.
To her immense satisfaction, it appeared that she had no need of seeking the gentleman who remained uppermost in her mind, for no sooner had she made short work of a custard pastry when he appeared of his own volition. He did not see her at first, which gave her the advantage of assessing him. In his evening tails, he’d looked handsome in the way all men did. This morning (she believed it was still before the hour of noon) helooked even more delectable, wearing a three-piece suit in cream linen, paired with a crisp white shirt.
Rockley exchanged some words with the Maître d’, who nodded discreetly in her direction. Locating her amidst the parlor palms, he made his way over. “Mrs. Bongorge,”—a furrow creased his brow, as he took in the various plates surrounding her—“you’re eating.”
She smiled over the rim of her coffee. “This being the dining room, it is the most usual activity.”
“Indeed.” He looked uncomfortable, which suited her just fine.
“You wished to say something?” She sipped at the beverage.
“I did. That is, I do.” He was definitely squirming. “Last night, my manner was uncalled for; rude, in fact. A gentleman does not lose his temper, nor departs from a lady with cross words between them. I spoke in haste, and I apologize, most sincerely.”
Estela set down the cup and gave him one of her most winning smiles. “You accept, then, that I understand some portion of what your Miss Maitland may be feeling, despite our temperaments being ‘vastly different’.”
“You are a woman and so is Miss Maitland.” Taking off his hat, he held it before him.
“How observant!”
“As such, I need your help.” He looked at her most sincerely.
“And your first thought was to come to me?” For a moment, she was dumbfounded.
An apology, she’d hoped for; a request for her assistance was unexpected. It was not an unwelcome development. To be needed, in any capacity, gave one the upper hand, which was a position she preferred. It also gave her the chance to taunt him, just a little.
“You must know a great many women: sisters, aunts—friends even?”
“The last people I wish to confide in are those of my intimate circle.” The brim of the Panama was receiving a through pleating. If he carried on, it would be quite unwearable.
“To be blunt, there are aspects of my forthcoming marriage which give me pause.” He sighed. “I am…anxious.”
Estela was intrigued. The previous evening, he’d given the impression of being quite set in his plans, but a man who was certain of himself did not admit to anxiety.
“Please”—she indicated the chair beside her—“let me pour you some of this excellent coffee.” Fortunately, a second cup was to hand. “You shan’t mind if I continue with my breakfast?” She picked up her knife without waiting for his answer and neatly decapitated a boiled egg, before dipping a finger of asparagus within.
Rockley added a dash of cream to his coffee and was stirring it thoroughly. Far more than was necessary. A small tick worked in his jaw.
“You’re perfectly welcome to watch me eat, but it might be best to explain what’s on your mind. I can’t be of assistance otherwise. I assure you, nothing will shock me. I have had four husbands.” Estela proceeded to bite the tip from the delicate green spear.
