Page 59 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
Chapter Twelve
Lucy finished the last of her dinner, surprised at the quantity of food she’d eaten, but then she’d been ravenous. It had been a long day full of astonishing events. She looked over the table at Andrew. He’d donned his shirt and a pair of trousers, but she could barely call him “dressed,” with his bare feet and a goodly expanse of his magnificent chest exposed. She had no intention of complaining.
“How’s your head?” she asked.
“It aches, but the tonic seemed to help a great deal. I should take another dose.” He fetched the bottle from near the bed and returned to where Tindall had set up their meal on a small table in front of the hearth. Andrew brushed a kiss against her temple as he passed her. “Or mayhap it’s all due to you and your healing powers.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “If anything, I’ll cause you more harm than good.”
He sat down opposite her and grinned. “Never.”
She thought about what they’d done earlier—it weighed heavy on her mind for so many reasons—and wasn’t sure if he wanted to repeat the activity. Or take it further. “You truly wish me to stay?” She’d already written a note to Aquilla, and it was at least halfway to London by now.
“I do.” He sipped his wine. “Tell me why you’re a wallflower. I don’t understand it one bit.”
She blinked at him, thinking him mad, then laughed. “I’m not conventionally beautiful.” She held up her hand. “You can’t argue with me. I didn’t say I wasn’t beautiful—you’re entitled to your opinion. However, I am neither blond nor blue-eyed nor am I adorned with especially feminine curves.” She felt odd describing herself that way now. After being with him, she did indeed feel desirable. “Plus, I don’t like feminine things such as needlepoint or singing or tittering.”
He laughed. “Tittering? Were you taught that as part of your comportment?”
“No, which is probably why I fail.” She smiled at him, enjoying his wit and the frank and respectful way he spoke with her. He talked to her as no man ever had, as if he were truly interested and maybe even entranced.
“You’re the better for it,” he said. “Did you never have a suitor? Not even once?”
“I did in my first Season.”
“And what happened with this suitor?”
“He wasn’treallya suitor, just someone who paid me attention for a short time.” She didn’t like thinking about Caruthers, let alone discussing him. “That was five years ago. I scarcely remember.”
Andrew set his glass on the table and leaned forward, his gaze pensive. “I doubt that, but I’m in favor of forgetting things that trouble us. However, I’ve decided I don’t like this fellow, so if you’d give me his name, I’d be happy to trip him when next I see him, or fleece him over a game of whist.”
Now it was Lucy’s turn to laugh. Warmth and joy spread through her. She’d never had a champion. She could get used to this. Goodness, that was a sobering thought. She plucked up her wineglass and took a long drink.
“I’m quite serious,” he said. “He’s an imbecile.”
“He married an heiress, and I believe is a terrible spendthrift. I’m rather pleased he didn’t pursue me.”
“You are the most practical-minded woman I’ve ever encountered.”
She lifted her glass in a toast. “Thank you.”
He toasted her in response.
After taking another sip of wine, she broached the subject that had been hovering about her mind since he’d tumbled from the balloon. “Why don’t you want people coming to Darent Hall?”
He shrugged as he turned his head to look into the fire. “I don’t like to entertain.”
It couldn’t be that simple, could it? “You were rather angry,” she said quietly. “It seemed more important than a question of entertaining.”
He gave her a wry look. “I’d just fallen out of a descending balloon after bouncing off the ground several times. By tomorrow, I’ll be sporting bruises over half my body.”
She couldn’t argue his point. She couldn’t imagine she’d have her wits about her after going up into the sky, even if the balloon had landed perfectly. “Was it frightening?”
“The falling? Surprising, but I wasn’t scared, no.” He cocked his head to the side, sending a lock of his dark hair falling over his forehead. “Or did you mean the flight? That wasexhilarating. Probably the most exciting thing I’ve ever done.” His lids dipped over his eyes as he raked her with a provocative stare. “Perhaps with the exception of disrobing you.”
She was growing accustomed to his compliments and his flirtation so that she didn’t blush. However, heat and appreciation still filled her every time he made her feel special. And he did that often. “I don’t think I would care for it.”
He sat forward in the chair, his features growing animated. “Indeed? While I was up there, I thought you’d enjoy it. I considered asking if you’d want to go with me—as Smitty, of course.”
