Page 55 of A Night of Desire with a Duke
“Lady Harrington.” She did not flinch as she said it, though the name tasted sour.
At once his face darkened, the shadow in his eyes deepening until he seemed another man entirely. “My mother told you about that?”
“She mentioned it,” Catherine said, her voice cool though her heart thundered. “Would you care to elaborate?”
"Not particularly."
"James..."
"Not here," he said quietly, glancing at the hovering servants. "Will you come for a carriage ride with me?"
She should say no. Should return to her aunt's house and maintain proper distance. But she was tired of proper distance.
"Yes," she said.
His curricle awaited them at the steps, a gleaming vehicle of elegant design, drawn by a perfectly matched pair of high-stepping grays. With practiced ease, James handed her up, his gloved hand closing over hers and lingering a heartbeat longer than propriety allowed. The touch sent an unwelcome thrill through her, though she schooled her features into composure.
They set off at a smart pace, the polished wheels rattling lightly over the cobbles as they passed through the bustling streets. The clatter of hooves and rumble of traffic wrapped them in a peculiar kind of privacy, as though the noise itself shielded them from the world’s curiosity.
At length, James guided the grays into Hyde Park, the wide green expanse opening before them. He steered with confidence down a quieter avenue, shaded by great chestnut trees, until they reached a more secluded path where the press of carriages and riders thinned and the hum of society faded to a murmur.
"Lady Harrington," he said without preamble, "was a mistake."
"That's rather not gallant."
"But accurate. I was two and twenty, just down from Oxford, full of romantic notions. She was eight and twenty and married to a man forty years her senior, and bored."
"You had an affair."
"We had a flirtation that I thought was love and she thought was amusing. It ended when her husband found out and challenged me to a duel."
Catherine's breath caught. "Did you...?"
"Fight? No. I would have, but my father intervened. Paid Harrington off, sent his wife to Italy, and strongly suggested I join the military to avoid further scandal."
"So you left."
"I left. Spent six years trying to forget what a fool I'd been. Succeeded, mostly. Then I met you."
He pulled the curricle to a stop under a large tree, turning to face her.
"You asked me about Lady Harrington. Now let me ask you about Lord Pemberton."
"What about him?"
"Do you love him?"
"No."
"But you let him court you."
"I let him be kind to me," Catherine corrected. "I let him treat me like I was worth something more than secret meetings and hidden feelings."
"Is that what you think you are to me? A secret?"
"Aren't I? For three months, you've barely acknowledged my existence."
"For three months, I've been trying to stay away from you." His hands clenched on the reins. "Do you have any idea what it's been like? Seeing you at every ball, every dinner, every musicale? Watching Pemberton dance with you, make you laugh, court you properly while I stood in the corner like a coward?"
