Page 22 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

Tomorrow she was to meet Xavier. Her heart picked up speed. Perhaps Charles could be useful with regard to her plan after all. Not now. But in the near future.

She would need to think about it carefully.

Nothing must go wrong when she let herself be caught in a sordid affair in as public a way as possible.

Xavier paced the small living room. ‘Paced’ was too strong a word. He walked from the French doors to the sofa and back.

What he really wanted to do was stand at the gate and watch for her carriage to arrive.

He compared his watch to the clock on the mantel. They both said the same thing. Half past two. She was late.

Perhaps she was not coming after all.

Something could have prevented her leaving given the clandestine nature of their meeting.

He would give her another half an hour and then he would leave.

The minutes ticked by slowly.

At ten to three, he flung himself down on the sofa. The tension inside his chest was a dull ache. She wasn’t coming.

He’d made a fool of himself. For the first time in his life, he had somehow let a woman get under his skin.

Luckily no damage was done. He leaned back and gazed at the ceiling. Why on earth would he care? She was a heartless, reckless woman just like his stepmother, and so what if he was as horny as hell? There were plenty of other women who…

The front door opened. ‘Hello?’

He leaped to his feet and went to greet her.

She was breathless, laughing and talking at the same time.

She looked adorably flustered. ‘Oh, you are still here. I was quite certain you would have given up on me by now. Aunt Lenore insisted I drop her off at her friend’s house on my way, and then the friend came out to say hello and I simply had a terrible time getting away.

’ She removed her hat and hung it on the hook by the door.

He looked outside. ‘Where is your carriage?’

‘I had the coachman drop me off outside the Andersons’. He will return for me at six.’

Four hours. It wasn’t as much time as he would have liked.

‘Won’t Mrs Anderson deny seeing you, should anyone ask?’ It was her excuse for going out without her aunt.

‘Why would anyone ask? And besides she is holding one of her ghastly musicale afternoons, budding artists playing their hearts out all over the house and gardens. It would be quite easy for a person to be missed in the crowd of hoi polloi in attendance.’

He could not keep from laughing. ‘Those “hoi polloi” consider themselves very well-educated connoisseurs of the art world. ’

‘Pretentious blowhards. If they had actually met a real artist or musician, they would be a great deal humbler. And knowledgeable.’

‘As you have?’

‘Naturally. In Vienna, some of the finest composers and artists abounded. One could hardly move without falling over a Gerard or a Lawrence or a Beethoven.’

The names of the masters tripped off her tongue like a shopping list.

‘It does make the Andersons’ gathering, as you describe it, seem a little pedestrian. Come, let me offer you some refreshment. Tea? Or something more fortifying?’

‘Tea will be perfect.’ She frowned. ‘You have hired a cook?’

‘No. I can make tea. And buttered toast if you would care for some.’

‘Oh, my. What a surprise.’

‘Not really. All boys learn the art of survival at boarding school, be he earl or duke or common old mister.’

He went to the kitchen and put the kettle on the hob. She stood in the doorway watching him.

‘I would have thought a duke would have had tutors at home, rather than go to boarding school.’

‘I had those in the summer months. Mostly to keep me out of mischief. I think my great-uncle found me a bit of a handful.’

‘You spent summers with an elderly uncle?’

‘There wasn’t much choice. My mother died when I was five. And my father when I was twelve.’

‘Oh, poor you. My mother died when I was born, but Father is still going strong.’

He gave her a sharp look. ‘You sound as if you wish he wasn’t.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Did I? Oh, goodness. Of course I do not mean that. Not at all. I just wish he wasn’t quite so…taken up with his work.’

‘You miss him?’

‘No. I refuse to miss a man who doesn’t miss me.’ She waved a hand. ‘Enough of Father. I would think only of you.’

He would like to have delved further into her relationship with her father but she clearly did not want to talk about it. And it really was none of his business.

He poured the boiling water into the pot and added some shortbread to a plate on the tray holding the cups and saucers that he had readied earlier. How had he guessed she would prefer tea to wine?

‘I will bring this through to the sitting room.’

She went ahead of him and he could not help but notice the way her gown clung to her figure, outlining the rounded shape of her bum that he had caressed almost a week ago.

And had been longing to see in all its naked glory.

He swallowed. He was not a beast. He was a man. He would give his lady tea before falling on her like a plundering pirate.

But fall on her he would .

She sat on the sofa and patted the seat beside her. ‘Shall I pour?’

‘Please.’ He leaned back, forcing himself to relax.

Her movements were graceful and sure. The turn of her wrist elegant. Her dark eyes expressive when she held up a lump of sugar.

‘One lump,’ he said, proud of how calm his voice sounded when his heart was beating a steady tattoo in his chest.

He loved watching her move.

He took his cup and they sipped quietly for a moment.

‘So where did you spend the summers with your uncle? At the family seat in Dorset? St Baldwin’s, isn’t it?’

His throat constricted. He never went to Dorset. He never discussed his life there. It always made him feel too uncomfortable. Sad. Angry. Out of sorts.

He forced his voice to be calm, distant. ‘I see you have been looking me up in Debrett’s, after all.’ He didn’t mean it to sound like an accusation, but it was one of a sort.

‘That is why it is printed, is it not?’

He hated how people thought they knew all about him because of what they read. And then assumed it gave them some sort of access to him as a person. As if he had no private life at all.

But Barbara was not simply a stranger met at a party. Surely he could not blame her for being curious.

Indeed, perhaps he should be pleased that she cared enough to look.

‘I spent my summers at Woodburn. Its proximity to London made it more convenient for Great-Uncle Thomas.’

‘I see.’

‘And I preferred it to St Baldwin’s.’

The chill he always felt when talking about St Baldwin’s, settled around his heart. He opened his mouth to explain.

Good Lord, was he going to pour his heart out to this woman and ruin the day? Certainly not.

‘It’s a big draughty old pile that was once a monastery right on the cliff tops.’

‘It sounds like the sort of place a boy would love to run free.’

He bit back a harsh retort. He was not going to discuss his feelings about St Baldwin’s.

‘What about you?’ he asked. Debrett’s hadn’t listed anything about her family except that her father was a diplomat, which he had already known. ‘Where did you grow up?’

‘In boarding schools.’

Likely why she was so well-educated. As well as her life experiences, of course.

‘And your summers?’

‘Mostly at boarding school. Once I was invited to go to visit a friend for two weeks and another summer I spent with my Aunt Lenore, but the poor dear found me far too exhausting. ’

‘Summers at boarding school? But surely everyone is gone in the summer?’

She turned her gaze on him and took a thoughtful sip of her tea. He had the feeling she was playing for time. Getting her emotions under control.

For some strange reason he wanted her to reveal her true feelings. It didn’t make any sense. There was nothing worse than listening to people complain about their circumstances.

She smiled briefly. ‘There was usually someone there. The housekeeper. Footmen. The gardener.’

Was that hurt he saw in her eyes? He could imagine his own feelings of sadness if he hadn’t been able to go to Woodburn in the summer holidays. He tried to keep the astonishment out of his voice. ‘You could not join your father?’

‘I did,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘When I was old enough to be of use.’ She put down her cup and turned towards him. ‘But enough of these childhood memories. Perhaps you will show me around the cottage. I saw very little of it when we were here the other evening.’