Page 23 of The Duke of Desire
Emmaline’s gaze snapped to hers. “What have you heard?”
“Nothing.” Save Lady Dunn’s commentary that morning on what a charming couple they made on the dance floor. Ivy took a bite of pie before she gave her own commentary about how Emmaline shouldn’t trust Townsend.
Emmaline’s shoulders relaxed. “I thought you meant—” She shook her head. “Never mind.” She glanced down and plucked a blade of grass from her lap. “I can confide in you, can’t I?”
“Yes.” Ivy wasn’t sure she wanted her to. It was both frustrating and painful to hear of her friends’ romantic successes. Still, she was happy for them. She couldn’t help but think of Lucy and Aquilla, and she truly was overjoyed that they’d both found love. Emmaline seemed to be on the path to the same end.
Emmaline raised her eyes, and her lips curved up. “He kissed me last night. On the terrace.”
“Not on the mouth?”
“Oh!” Emmaline laughed. “Yes, on the mouth. It was divine.” She tipped her head to the side. “Have you ever been kissed?”
Ivy’s insides seemed to freeze. For a moment, she was cast back a decade to that assembly where she’d met him. The mutual attraction had been instant. They’d shared their first kiss that very night outside beyond the hedgerow. She’d thought herself the luckiest girl in the world.
How wrong she’d been.
“No.”
Emmaline’s gaze took on a gleam of pity. “Oh well… It’s quite splendid. You should try it.” Her eyes widened slightly, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.
Ivy couldn’t help but laugh, which was rather surprising, given their subject matter. “Perhaps, but I am firmly—to borrow our least favorite phrase—on the shelf.”
Emmaline lowered her hand and tipped her head to the side, studying Ivy. “Are you? You seem young—I’ve no idea of your age—and you’re very pretty.”
“I’m merely a paid companion,” Ivy said. She glanced around to verify that no one was listening to them. It seemed they were not. “And I have nothing to recommend me.”
“That’s so unfair,” Emmaline said. “You shouldn’t have to be alone.”
Thankfully, Emmaline turned her attention to the shuttlecock court and sat up straighter. “The match is about to start!”
Ivy stared at the blanket for a moment, her mind arrested on what Emmaline had said. Shaking away a hollow sensation, Ivy took another bite of pie and swept her gaze toward the lawn to watch the match.
Clare was seated close to the edge of the court, next to Axbridge. A stark shaft of loneliness pierced Ivy’s frame. She suddenly felt bereft for the first time in years.
This was ludicrous!
She was a mature woman, and she’d learned how to bury such silliness. There was no place for melancholy in her life. She looked back at Emmaline, who was watching the match with delighted vigor.
Ivy didn’t have time for delight either. Or flirtation. Ordesire.
Or joy.
She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Setting the pie down on the blanket, she reached for a cup of ale. “Is this for me?” she asked Emmaline.
Emmaline spared her the tiniest glance. “Oh yes. The footmen brought them around while you were inside.”
Ivy snatched it up and drank half the brew straight down. As she finished the pie, she tried to watch the match but kept finding her gaze drawn to Clare. He wore a hat, but she could see him in profile. He smiled and laughed often. That reminded her of what he’d said to her, that she didn’t smile.
“I’d love to see you smile.”
Heat gathered in her belly and pulsed much lower. Though it had been years, she recognized that sensation.
She might not have time for desire, but here it was nonetheless. For whatever reason, the infamous Duke of Desire had decided to pay her attention. He’d admitted to trying to seduce her. She should despise him.
She’d tried that. But he was too kind and too helpful and too charming.
She should ignore him.
