Page 19 of Fit for a Duke
That was undeniably true, but he had returned the favour by making sure that she escaped the captain’s clutches when he need not have done so. He had followed her out onto the terrace with the obvious intention of speaking with her. He had smiled and laughed with her in a manner that she hadn’t seen him employ with anyone else present.
Perhaps he simply wanted to ensure that she wouldn’t repeat what she had overheard and was courting her good opinion for that reason. Her pride took a denting at that very real possibility, until she adjured herself to be sensible. She was not on the prowl for a husband—she was far too young to contemplate tying herself down for the rest of her life. If she did marry, she wanted to enjoy herself first. Besides, even if she had been intent upon matrimony, the duke was so far above her in the social order that she could easily develop a permanent crick in her neck from looking up at him.
Thus resolved and in control of her emotions—at least after a fashion—she privately conceded that he was by far the most handsome, ruggedly alluring, sophisticated and fascinating gentleman of her acquaintance. She would enjoy his company whenever he chose to bestow it upon her, using it as a means to avoid Captain Salford until such time as she was ready to confront him, but she would not get carried away with fanciful notions.
Clio was unsure how long she sat there, lost in a reverie, reliving each of her exchanges with the duke, conscious of the warm glow that he had inspired deep within her core spreading to the outermost reaches of her body. The voices from below began to fade. The party was winding down and Clio crossed the room and climbed into her bed.
Sleep took its time to claim her, but she was up with the dawn, ready for her early ride, which had become a solitary tradition. Without ringing for Daisy, Clio washed in cold water and dressed in her summer habit—a relatively flimsy garment made from red twill. She tied her hair back and didn’t bother with a hat. No one would be around to see her and she would enjoy having the park to herself.
‘Good morning, miss.’ The head groom tugged his forelock as he observed Clio’s approach. ‘Wasn’t sure if you’d be up early this morning, what with the party going on so late, but Raven is tacked up and ready for you just in case.’
‘You know I wouldn’t allow the small inconvenience of a late night to interrupt what is really important, Jed.’
‘I reckon I do, miss.’
Another groom led a restless Raven from his stall. The gelding, whose shiny black coat was responsible for his name, pranced sideways and whinnied when he saw Clio.
‘It’s all cupboard love,’ she told her horse, kissing his soft muzzle. ‘You don’t fool me. All you want is this carrot,’ she added, producing the desired vegetable, which she had appropriated from the kitchen as she passed through it earlier, from her pocket. The gelding consumed it with surprising delicacy. Clio waited until he had finished his treat and then stood on the mounting block. ‘If you are quite ready,’ she said, taking up the reins and slipping into the saddle.
Raven put in his customary buck as they left the yard, but Clio was ready for him and he failed to unseat her.
‘I can sense that you are fresh and ready to kick up your heels,’ she said, conducting what had become a customary one-sided conversation with her horse. ‘Shall we head for the old priory?’ she asked, turning Raven in that direction and digging her heel into his flank. Raven responded with another buck and took off at a gallop.
The party lost its allure for Ezra as soon as Clio left it. He felt relief out of all proportion to the brief nature of their acquaintanceship when he saw her reach the safety of the upper landing without being pursued by Salford. He eyed his nemesis with deep suspicion as he sauntered around the room, hands clasped behind his back, looking to the casual observer as though he had nothing more taxing on his mind than enjoying himself.
But Ezra knew him better than that. He had seen him lose his temper with enlisted men during their time in the army, and he could tell by the manner in which Salford’s smile showed signs of strain that he had not expected Clio to reject his advances. He had underestimated the chit’s determination to make her own decisions, Ezra suspected, and wasn’t sure how to respond to her independent stance. He could not putheron a charge, as he had often done on a whim when he believed that a soldier had been insubordinate.
Salford enjoyed being in control, Ezra knew, and did not take opposition to his authority well. That made him dangerous and unpredictable, and Clio would require Ezra’s protection, whether she realised it or not.
Ezra smiled when he considered her reaction to his arbitrary decision—a decision that gave him immense satisfaction, not just because he had a score to settle with Salford. God alone knew he had enough problems of his own to contend with, not least of which was avoiding the attentions of a would-be assassin. Be that as it may, he had decided to make the spirited Clio Benton his responsibility and she would soon learn that he could be as determined as her, and equally tenacious.
Some of the bolder ladies found excuses to capture Salford’s attention. He handled them, Ezra conceded, with charm but his gaze constantly strayed to the staircase, as though he was actually contemplating pursuing Clio in that direction.Justlet him try it!
Some men had no shame.
Ezra allowed himself a wry smile, thinking that description applied to him since he knew for a fact that he would have kissed the alluring Miss Benton had Salford not come upon them at such an inopportune time. Far from being grateful to the cad for reminding him of his manners, Ezra felt cheated out of an experience that he would have to be out of his mind to pursue. The chit intrigued him. He admired her individuality, her courage, her forthright manner and the fact that she knew her own mind, despite her relative youth.
Or perhaps because of it.
He endured the party and the attentions of just about every female in the room for another hour. Satisfied that Clio would be safely tucked up in her bed by that time and aware that Salford was still working his charm here in the drawing room, he felt it safe to retire himself.
‘God give me strength!’ he cried in exasperation as he entered his room, shrugged out of his coat and threw it at Godfrey. Merlin, lying flat out in front of the open window, made do with flapping his tail before returning to his slumbers with a martyred sigh.
Godfrey chuckled. ‘That bad, eh?’
‘Worse, although there were some interesting developments.’
‘I hear Salford has arrived,’ Godfrey said, scowling. ‘Everyone below stairs is talking about it. Seems they have him married off to your Miss Benton.’
‘The devil they have!’ Ezra raised his man’s scowl with a more ferocious one of his own.
Godfrey chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, her maid knew nothing of any agreement between them and reckons her mistress tells her everything.’
Not everything, Ezra sincerely hoped, since he knew his behaviour on the terrace had not been particularly gentlemanly. If he had attempted it with just about any other female in attendance, her connections would have forced him down on bended knee, probably with some justification. His detractors might accuse Ezra of taking advantage of Clio’s lack of male guardianship. He had heard it said that her trustees took scant interest in her wellbeing, satisfying themselves that she had been farmed out to relatives and leaving it at that. The thought of inadvertently exploiting her position gave him pause. Nothing could be further from the truth. Could it?
‘She told me herself that she hadn’t known he was coming. Nor does she seem to have any interest in him.’
‘That won’t go down well. You and I know that one don’t take rejection lying down. She will need to have a care.’ Godfrey picked up Ezra’s discarded waistcoat and brushed it down. ‘What I don’t understand is why Salford is here. He must have known that you would be too. The whole district’s been abuzz with the news, ever since you accepted your invite, according to the tattle below stairs. Salford knows you bear him a grudge following his denial of our accusations against him, but he’d have to be dicked in the nob if he thinks he can somehow even the score against a man of your stature.’
