Page 18 of The Forbidden Duke

A receiving line of sorts had been established along the path as people made their way toward the picnic, and the Satterfields—and Nora—were just concluding a short exchange with their hosts. Titus had ridden his horse to the picnic and gone directly to the stables, and now avoided the receiving line.

Nora cocked her head to the side, a wide-brimmed bonnet shading her face from both the bright sunlight and him. No matter, for he could recall the slope of her nose, the generous sweep of her lower lip, and the warm sparkle in her tawny eyes. Those very features had haunted his dreams. When he considered the cause, he blamed the guilt he felt. Hopefully today’s errand would set him free.

As they departed the line and continued along the path, Titus made his way in their direction. He was vaguely aware of people staring at him as he passed. He hadn’t attended this many Society events—the tea, the ball, and now this—in such quick succession, since before his father had died.

His stepfather caught sight of him first and inclined his head as he bent to say something to Titus’s stepmother.

She turned to greet him. “Ah, Kendal, I’m delighted to see you here.” She angled her head toward Nora. “Look who’s come, Nora.”

Nora turned and tipped her head up. Her warm brown eyes, so bold and expressive, charmed him. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

He took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of her glove. The garment offended him because he would rather have kissed her bare flesh. “Good afternoon. It’s a nice day for a picnic.”

The inane comment sounded absurd to his ears. He hadn’t tried to make such nonsensical chitchat in ages.

His stepmother smiled widely. “It’s especially fine today. I don’t remember the last time Lady Fitzgibbon’s annual picnic was blessed with such lovely weather. Kendal, come and join us at our blanket.” She took her husband’s arm and led the way.

Titus held his arm for Nora. She curled her hand around his sleeve, and Titus’s body came alive with awareness. Damn.

He strove to keep his mind away from her charms. “I understand you’re keeping my stepmother busy.”

Nora cast him an enigmatic look—it was almost inquisitive, and yet she didn’t ask a question. “We’ve been adding to my wardrobe. She’s been incredibly generous. She says it gives her pleasure to have a young woman to support and shepherd.” She shook her head, her lips curving in a self-deprecating half smile. “I only wonder what I did to earn such kindness.” Ah,thatwas her question: why her?

Because she deserved it.

“Does it have to be something that you did?” Titus asked. “My stepmother is an exceptionally benevolent person by nature. I’m not the least bit surprised that she wanted to sponsor you.”

They crested a small hill, and the picnic lay before them. Dozens of colorful blankets set as elegantly as a Society dinner dotted the verdant lawn. The thought of sharing Nora with a blanketful of people annoyed him nearly as much as the glove on her hand. Which was ridiculous. He was here to ensure her acceptance and success. He had no personal interest or stake other than righting the wrong he’d done her.

He sought to keep the conversation benign. He’d once been very good at charming young ladies with his conversational wit. In retrospect, that seemed like another life. “Have you been to Brexham Hall before?”

She looked at him askance, and her expression was tinged with disbelief. “Goodness no. I wasn’t in a high enough position during my Seasons. Brexham Hall is a destination for the Untouchables.”

“What the devil are the Untouchables?”

She laughed, and he loved the dark, throaty sound of it. “Spoken like a true Untouchable.” She looked at him again, this time studying him at length. “Shall I explain?”

“No, I think I comprehend the meaning.” He tried not to scowl. This sharp division even among the upper class was another reason he’d come to loathe Society. He didn’t care for other people dictating whom he ought to befriend or associate with. Or dance with. Or fall in love with.

Not that he was in danger ofthat.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said softly.

She hadn’t, but he acknowledged he wasn’t exhibiting his best side to her. Hell, did he even have agoodside? He’d long ago abandoned comporting himself in the manner necessary to win smiles and affection, and back when he had, the skill had come effortlessly. What had happened to him in the intervening years? He knew: a persistent feeling of disgust from his youthful behavior and a heavy dose of cynicism engendered by the very people he’d once called “friends.”

Nora, however, was not one of those people. She was someone with whom he could relax and let down his guard—if he wanted to.

He studied her pert profile.

Yes, he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. There was no point when their association would be disappointingly brief.

“It is I who must apologize. I’m afraid I don’t socialize well,” he said.

“You did fine at your stepmother’s ball.”

He sent her a wry glance. “I’ve had enough practice with that particular occasion—that’s the one thing I do annually, if you recall.”

She laughed again, and the sound burrowed into him, sparking something most inconvenient—desire. “I do recall, and even if I didn’t, there are plenty who will remind me.”

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