Page 36 of A Bluestocking for the Wicked Duke

She placed her left palm on his right forearm as she said that. William couldn’t tell whether it was intentional or absentminded. But she still left it there after she had finished speaking.

“You mean the sword, don’t you?” William said.

“Yes, I meant the sword. I have not seen you duel Mr. William but many claim you are the best swordsman in the entire country. They say you could have won but continued making mockery of the Duke,” she continued.

William saw her stare into his eyes after she said that.

For the very first time.

“Yes, your sources are true and exact. I just wanted to break his pride and cause him to submit. I had no intention of killing or maiming him. If I wanted him dead, the very first stroke would have severed his head,” William replied.

Esther smiled when he said that. He felt her fingers moving in a small slow circular movement on the soft skin above his elbow. Her mouth was slightly open. William could see the small pink head of her tongue peeking between her succulent looking lips.

What if I draw closer to kiss her? How would she react? How would that fit into my master plan?

William felt confused for the first time since he devised his way around his mother’s sudden arrangement. Everything was going so well until he met the real Esther Wembley. She was a beautiful, cultured, unsuspecting young woman. Playing with the emotions of careless and impulsive women like Meredith Charlett was one thing, letting down a well-behaved damsel like Esther was another.

“What about the Earl? The matron told me he wasn’t around,” William said.

Esther raised her eyes in an expression of wonder.

“Matron? We don’t have a matron,” she said.

“A woman came to attend to me immediately I came in. She is slim and very cultured. She was wearing black and white so I assumed she was your matron,” William replied.

“Do you mean the woman who came to summon me?” Esther replied.

She was already beginning to smile widely. William felt he had said something very funny and felt awkward. He wanted to know what was so funny.

“Yes,” William replied. “Isn’t she the matron?”

Esther shook her head vigorously and burst into hard bouts of laughter. William smiled along; he didn’t know what was so funny.

“That isn’t the matron. That is the Duchess. That’s my mother, Beatrice Wembley,” Esther responded, still holding in the remnants of laughter in.

William was shocked.

“Your mother? I’m sorry for making such a dreadful error. Forgive my wrongful assumptions,” he quickly said.

Esther placed both her hands on his and pulled lightly. She shook them before she dropped them back.

“There’s nothing to forgive Mr. William. You are not the first person to make that mistake. Mother tours the house in the mornings; she insists on checking on some important parts herself. She says she doesn’t trust the words of stewards over her own eyes. You were lucky, or should I say unlucky, that she was the one that answered the door,” Esther said.

William finally understood.

“And about her dressing, mother never is comfortable in anything she decides is too aristocratic. Many times she wears white and black,”

William now understood why the woman had known his name. He also saw why she could wear green shoes on her black and white.

He laughed now, just a few seconds of chuckling.

“I am sorry once again for making such a big mistake,” William said.

“Oh! There is no offense taken. Even if mother was here when you said this, the only difference in reaction would be a longer period of laughter,”

William nodded his head to her response. He looked around them and saw figures of animals carved out of thick bushels. He could see a rabbit and a dolphin behind the fountain. William stood up and looked at the rabbit; it looked like one ear was longer than the other. Pointing to the figures, he asked Esther.

“Were those done personally by your father?”