Page 70 of The Duke of Desire
“Many things, but let’s start with your well-being.” He moved just a bit closer, his gaze pinning hers with an intense stare. “I was quite concerned last night. You look well today.”
“I am, thank you.” She looked away, unable to bear the way he was regarding her. He wasn’t touching her, but she felt crowded by him—and not in a bad way. Except itwasbad. Or wrong. Or something. She didn’t want to feel what she felt for him, this overwhelming attraction.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Lady Dunn called from the bench.
Ivy stiffened and moved toward her employer. West followed her—she could sense him behind her.
The Duke went to stand before the bench and bowed before both ladies. Lady Dunn introduced him to her friend.
“It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said to Mrs. Shilton with his usual excess of charm. He turned to Lady Dunn. “Might I take your companion for a brief promenade?”
Lady Dunn darted a look at Ivy, and the surprise in her gaze was brief yet clear. There was also a hint of question. “Yes, if she’s amenable.”
Ivy could say no. She could put an end to this farce with West right now. But when he offered his arm, she took it. “We won’t be long,” she said to the viscountess.
Lady Dunn inclined her head, and West led her away.
“You can’t just take me for a promenade,” Ivy said with probably too much acid.
“Why not? Am I breaking some law I’m unaware of?”
“You’re being purposely obtuse. We went to great pains to…disguise our…association at Greensward. Why are you publicizing it now?”
“I’mpublicizingnothing. I’m escorting a lovely woman on a promenade.”
“I’m walking on the arm of the Duke of Desire. I do not wish to be presumed your latest conquest.”
“Conquest? When did I become a warrior?” He shook his head. “Never mind. This is not the way I meant for this to go.” His lips pulled into a frown.
Of course he had a plan. He always had a plan. And this one involved her. Last night, he’d told her that he’d come to Bath to see her. “What do you want?” she asked again.
“I wanted to talk to you about the workhouse—Walcot.”
She slowed as she turned her head to look at him. That was the last thing she’d expected. “Walcot?”
“I visited there yesterday, and I’d like to pay for the repairs to the entry hall. I understand you’d like some of the inmates to learn how to do such work.”
Ivy came to a stop and stared at him. “I would,” she said slowly. “I’m surprised you became involved.”
“I am too, to be frank.” His mouth curved into a small smile. “You’ve had quite an effect on me, Ivy. I admit I went to the workhouse in search of you, but I was inspired to offer my assistance.”
She pursed her lips. “To flatter me.”
His smile faded. “Why must you always think the worst?”
Because she was used to that. “That is not my intent.”
“But it’s your nature.” He looked past her for a moment and then found her gaze with his. “You have a dark past. I want to understand it.”
Ivy turned from him and started walking, pulling him along with her. “It’s the past. I prefer it stay there.”
They walked in silence for a moment until he said, “I made the acquaintance of Lord Bothwick last night.”
Another surge of nausea flared through Ivy. She clutched his arm and slowed her pace again.
He wrapped his hand over hers and turned his head. “Ivy.”
She stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders, picking up her speed once more. “I’m fine, but we should turn back.”
