Page 61 of The Duke of Desire
West admired the man’s bravery—it was no small thing to question a duke. That he did it on behalf of Ivy made West like the man. “We share a passion for helping those less fortunate. I should like to pay to have the entryway repaired. Do you have workers who can do that if I provide the supplies?”
Alves seemed hesitant, his gaze darting this way and that. “Miss Breckenridge and I discussed this. We don’t have anyone with those skills. She was hoping we could hire someone who would train a few of our inmates.”
“A capital idea.” Again, he wasn’t at all surprised. “I shall coordinate with Miss Breckenridge, then.” And now he had areasonto seek her out.
“Thank you.” Alves sounded uncertain. West took it as nervousness.
“It’s my pleasure to help. See you soon, Alves.” West replaced his hat on his head and took his leave.
As he strode out into the afternoon, it seemed darker than when he’d gone in. That was because several near-black clouds had moved in, and it looked as if it would rain after all.
He hurried back along London Road toward The Paragon and nearly ran into a woman who was coming round the corner. “I beg your pardon,” he said, sidestepping her.
“That’s quite all right,” she responded. “Clare?”
West stopped, trying to place the voice. He turned his head and recognized her immediately. How could he not? Elise, Lady Lamberton, had been one of his first affairs. She was older than him by about five years and still very attractive with sharp tawny eyes and dark blond hair that was swept up beneath her stylish bonnet. He specifically recalled her eyes because they’d been able to convey a pout or an invitation without the rest of her face moving a muscle.
“Lady Lamberton, how lovely to see you.” He swept her a gallant bow as she dipped an elegant curtsey.
She laughed. “How formal we are.” She swept her hand along his forearm. “It’s been an age, but I daresay we know each other well enough.”
“I daresay.” Although he hadn’t tracked her over the past decade or however long it had been. “I trust you are well?”
“Oh yes. Lamberton departed the earth almost two years ago now.”
He’d forgotten that. “I am sorry for your loss.”
She lifted a shoulder. “He was a fine enough husband.” The space between them grew smaller as she edged closer. “I was always comparing him to you, however.” Her tone had turned husky and low.
“You flatter me, my lady.”
“You used to call me your lamb.”
From her name, of course. He’d forgotten about that too. Thinking back, he’d been a bit of a nodcock, going out of his way to flirt and cajole and find cunning nicknames for his paramours. He’d thought he was so clever. And yet he must have been successful, because Lady Lamberton was a beautiful, seductive woman who should’ve been beyond his reach. Back then his paramours hadn’t needed his “help.” He’d pursued her out of sheer vanity and male pride. He wanted to assert himself as a rake, probably because he’d known it would drive his mother mad.
How on earth had his mother crept her way into his thoughts?
West rolled his shoulders and focused on the beauty in front of him. “That was a very long time ago.”
“It was.” Her gaze traveled over him slowly, like a cat picking its way through a maze of puddles. “I would say that I’ve almost forgotten, but that would be silly of me. And disingenuous.” Her lips curved coquettishly.
West didn’t know what to say. Normally, he would engage her flirtatious behavior, but he strangely didn’t want to.
She took another tiny step toward him. Her rose-scented perfume reminded him of the long-ago past, of heated encounters and satisfying couplings. Something in him stirred, a primal arousal, but he didn’t respond to it.
“My house is in Queen Square. You’re welcome to come by this evening—late. I’m attending the assembly later.” Her expressive tawny eyes seemed to smile all on their own. “Perhaps I’ll see you there?”
Damn. She would. But he wouldn’t be looking for her. He’d be searching for Ivy. He didn’t want to give Lady Lamberton the impression he was interested in rekindling their affair. “Perhaps.”
Her eyes did that pouting thing he remembered. It had never failed to persuade him to do whatever it was she’d wanted. But he was older now. Wiser. And not interested in her sexually.
Really? He wasn’t in a liaison currently. She was a widow. This would be a perfect arrangement.
Except he didn’t want her. He wanted Ivy. But for what? He didn’t see her engaging in an affair with him. What the hell was he doing?
“Clare?” Lady Lamberton’s query pulled him from his introspection.
Thankfully, a raindrop landed on his sleeve. “It’s starting to rain.”
