Page 15 of Courting the Duchess
At all.
And her expression did a poor job of hiding it.
He might have found her inability to shutter her emotions more amusing, were he not so certain that he was in for another spat. He could already see her mentally preparing herself for it.
“What fault can you find with my Reading Society, Your Grace?” she asked stiffly.
He tilted his head and gazed at her.
Then surprised her when the corner of his mouth tipped up into a disarming smile.
“I wish you would dispense with the formality and call me by my given name.” It was something Sterling had thought about an inordinate amount of time since his return. He practically ached to hear his name on her tongue, to watch her mouth as she formed the word, to hear his name in her voice. He’d never heard her address him as such, and, more than longing for the sound of it, he wanted the comfort with a fierce desperation. After so many years of holding everyone at arm’s length, he longed for the closeness and intimacy it would provide. And he felt almost certain that her doing so would make him more human—less easily dismissed.
Her eyes widened. She clearly hadn’t been prepared for such a request and Sterling took pleasure in the parting of her luscious lips.
“I—I would rathernot. The familiarity is discomfiting.”
He rewarded Alaina with a scoff as he steepled his long, elegant fingers together. “Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe.” He paused and searched her face—for what, she was unsure. “Then at least call me Morton. No more ‘Your Grace’…especially when we are in private.”
Alaina hesitated but found it impossible to completely deny him. A part of her she’d believed long dead and crumbled to dust began to rise and prod her conscience. A part that had once desired to please this man above all else…to be the object of his desire and his pride. She eventually nodded in acquiescence.
Just then, two maids arrived with the tea service and a small variety of finger sandwiches prepared with cucumbers and some cold cuts. After they took their leave, Alaina’s schooling overrode her desire to stay as far away as possible from Sterling. She leaned forward and began to pour the steaming brew from the pot decorated in a delicate pattern of Grecian scrollwork, preparing his tea with several spoons of sugar and a wafer-thin slice of lemon. When she was done, she held out the dainty bone china cup to Sterling, only looking up when he didn’t accept the saucer from her fingers. He stared at her offering as if he expected it to contain an elixir of death.
“You watched me prepare it; I hardly had an opportunity to slip poison into the tea,” Alaina said acerbically.
This seemed to snap Sterling from whatever oddity had occupied his mind. He accepted the drink and it took everything in her power not to snatch her hand back as the tip of his middle finger grazed hers. Instead, she averted her eyes and busied herself preparing her own drink as she waited for him to resume whatever he’d been about to say.
There was a gentle click of china as he took a sip and set down the saucer.
“I have heard about your reading society, Alaina,” he began slowly—more calmly than cautiously. “You have created quite the stir.”
Alaina took a bracing sip of her tea, wishing all the while it was something stronger. “And how, pray tell, would you know that? I wouldn’t expect the news of our humble meetings to survive the distance to whatever Continental city in which you found yourself.” Her tone was bitter, but not venomous. She decided to hold that in check until she heard what he had to say.
As it was, however, she didn’t think this was headed anywhere she wished to go.
“I may have been out of the country, but do not believe I ever for a single moment forgot I had a wife here in England.”
Alaina released a most unladylike snort of disbelief, and she was shocked to find she felt not the least bit of remorse or embarrassment over it.
“I always watched over you as much as I could,” Sterling continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “I made sure you never wanted for funds to be used as you saw fit, the staff’s wages have always been timely, and I helped ensure a replacement with immaculate references arrived whenever a new addition was required.”
Alaina couldn’t argue those points. On those things, Sterling had remained…well…sterling. The issue was that he’d failed to consider her emotional needs.
And, perhaps, some physical ones…
“But what I have learned of your society leaves something to be desired.”
Alaina carefully set down her saucer, believing it to be safer than continuing to hold the steaming cup, and modulated her tone with cautious intensity. “And what, may I ask, have you heard which has given you such an opinion? I find it difficult to believe anything you might have learned could have been so catastrophic as to precipitate your return to English soil.” He cocked a chastising brow, but she continued. “Why don’t you tell me what you believe you know, and I shall tell you if there is any merit?”
Sterling leaned forward to speak, pulling a folded bit of parchment from an inside pocket of his coat. “You have become rather notorious for hosting meetings where women of rank are encouraged to read incendiary literature.” He opened the letter and read what was written there. “‘Works touting extreme social reform, lurid romances, explicit and violent plays—’”
“Things which might cause some women to question their world and their place within it—might make them think with their God-given brains and intelligence? Why, that does sound terriblydangerous,” she mocked, crossing her arms beneath her bosom, incensed that anyone would be so bold as to write to her husband to complain of her activities. This earned her a stern glower from her husband, making him look remarkably similar to the great-grandfather whose portrait she steadfastly avoided in the upstairs gallery. Sterling’s ducal bearing and authority were undeniable and intimidating—even to Alaina—but she refused to be cowed on this.
“I should hope you know that I, of all men, do not condemn reading for knowledge and the joy of it,” he said, referencing the fact that they’d once bonded over a shared passion for the written word.
“I do not think I know you at all, Morton.”
The words hitSterling with the burning suddenness of a bee sting. This was now the second time Alaina had told him she didn’t know him, and the unwelcome truth of it was discomfiting.
