Page 34 of The Lady's Guide to Well-Endowed Dukes
“… the scent of oranges is divine. One day, I’ll peel them for you.”
Rats!
If she was with someone, it complicated matters.
He passed a large stove blazing merrily to provide a degree of heat to the conservatory, then rounded a bank of well-established ferns, before spotting her leaning into one of the citrus trees.
As for whoever she’d been talking to, they must have departed through some other door, for she was entirely alone after all.
“Estela.” He called her name softly.
He hadn’t wanted to startle her. Nevertheless, she gave a small shriek.
“Oh, my love!” He went to take her in his arms, but she shrank back.
“Why are you here?” She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling fast within her close-fitting bodice.
She looked so beautiful in green, and the black lacework was very fine. He’d seen something like it only once before—in Venice, wasn’t it…
The truth of it struck him like a hammer blow. How had he not realized before!
“It was you!” His voice rang out in the cavernous space. “You were there that night, at the Palazzo Zorzi Tiepolo.”
With a pained cry she picked up her skirts, making for the doors which led outward, but he was quicker than she, blocking the way.
“For God’s sake, Stella. Don’t run from me. I know why you took the letters; that you were only doing what you thought was right.”
Her eyes blazed. “I know what I was doing but I can’t say the same for you.”
He cursed inwardly. This was not the romantic reunion he’d hoped for. He’d long since resolved his feelings over Estela’s involvement in the Venice fiasco but, of course, she was unaware of his role. He hesitated to answer, but keeping silence wouldn’t do—not if she was to be his, sharing his life.
“Who sent you for them?” She wasn’t letting this go.
“Someone guarding Mathilde’s interests, in the same way as yourself—and the interests of the Empire. You understand the import of your niece’s marriage. Thanks to our efforts, everything will go ahead as planned. We both did what had to be done.”
She frowned, taking in what he’d just told her.
“The letters no longer matter; that isn’t why I’m here.”
“It isn’t?” Something caught in her voice.
“No more pretenses. I want the truth.”
“About what, exactly?” She prickled, folding her arms.
“Why you went to such efforts to seduce me.” He hadn’t planned on confronting her so directly but there were things that had to be said. He needed to hear what her feelings had been.
“It was you who approached me. What were your motives, Lord Rockley? You say you’d no idea I was at the palazzo, but perhaps you were keeping me under your eye.”
The ridiculousness of the situation was beginning to dawn on him. “It was chance entirely. Do you think I’d have brought you back to my cabin if I’d suspected you were after those letters?”
“Then why did you? Was it all just a way to pass the time, before you returned to your bride? When is the wedding? Oughtn’t you to be in London for the last-minute preparations?”
It gave him hope. If she could become so riled, she must feel something.
“Stella.” He spoke softly again. “The day in Messina convinced me that I had to know you better—not just because you made me laugh, and there was such a connection between us, but because of the rage I felt when I saw you with another man. I knew then that I was in the grip of something stronger than I’d ever felt before.”
“You never said anything.”
