Page 9 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

‘They have done it before,’ he added. ‘When I have a buyer interested in looking at a horse, I feed them. It is a matter of good business. Kemp says the grooms used to draw straws for the privilege of serving the luncheon, but because some are luckier than others, it was causing friction, so he has set up a rota and they take it in turns.’

She frowned. ‘Why would they be so keen?’

He raised a brow. ‘Footman get paid more than grooms.’

She should have known that. Why did she not know it?

It seemed her education was sadly lacking in some departments.

But then she had never really had a home of her own to run.

She had always lived at school, or with her father and his extant mistress, of which there had been many, except for a very short time, when she married her first husband.

And even then, there had been barely time for the ink to dry on the marriage lines before he cocked up his toes.

She had never been more relieved in her life to return to live beneath her father’s roof. But then she had been shockingly young. Little more than seventeen and a widow. And then it was off to take shelter with Helmut. Another arrogant man.

‘May I help you to some soup?’ the Duke asked.

‘Yes, please.’

The soup, cream of asparagus, tasted delicious. ‘My compliments to your cook,’ she said.

‘She will be delighted that you are pleased, Countess. I shall be sure to let her know.’

‘Thank you for this morning,’ Barbara said.

‘I am glad you enjoyed it. It is…’ He hesitated. ‘It was my pleasure.’

That was not what he was going to say.

‘To be honest,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure if you would make me turn back to London when you saw I was alone. The reason I did not bring my maid is because she reports everything back to my great-aunt, who I am terribly fond of but whose chaperonage I find quite stifling.’

‘You should not chafe at your aunt’s trying to protect your reputation,’ the Duke said stiffly.

Such a stuffed shirt, this man. And so much fun to tease.

‘Nonsense. I have no need for a chaperone. I have been married twice, Your Grace. I am not some schoolroom miss without a shred of knowledge of the world. I do as I wish.’

‘I see that.’

‘With whom I wish.’

‘I would advise caution.’

‘Caution.’ She laughed. ‘Why would anyone embrace caution? How dull. And to what end?’

‘I think you will discover English Society is a little different from that on the Continent. If you should wish to marry again—’

Oh, yes. She had teased him about seeking a third husband. ‘I am beginning to wonder if I would derive more enjoyment remaining as a widow.’

He looked startled. ‘I understood from your aunt that you hoped—’

‘My aunt does not speak for me, Your Grace.’

She finished her soup and put down her spoon with a gesture of finality. ‘In the meantime, I have every intention of enjoying my visit to London.’

‘Your visit? Do you not plan to stay?’

‘If London is as dull as I have observed so far, I think I would far rather live in Paris.’

‘I see.’

‘Unless you have some notion of how London might be made more interesting?’

His eyes as he gazed at her sparkled for a brief moment. ‘Is that a challenge, Countess?’

‘Take it however you will,’ she said, lifting her chin.

He rang the bell. Green entered and collected their soup bowls.

His Grace began slicing the bread. ‘I shall have to see what I can do.’

Heavens! Did that mean he was accepting her challenge ?

Given his very strict sort of notions about Society, she hadn’t expected him to give in so easily.

But perhaps he assumed she was incorrigible, therefore not worthy of saving from her folly.

Whereas she ought to be delighted, she felt just a little let down. Which was nonsense when it looked as if things were going exactly the way she wanted.

‘Help yourself to meats and cheeses, Countess. And here is bread, or there are rolls if you prefer.’

With a feeling of pleasant surprise, Xavier watched the Countess eat the simple luncheon fare with a gusto, unlike most women of his acquaintance.

Mostly they picked at the food put in front of them.

He suspected that some of them ate before attending an event so they did not appear to have any sort of appetite.

He buttered his bread, then enjoyed the sweetness of the butter in contrast to the sharpness of the cheese. The Burgundy wine he had ordered to be served with the meal complemented the flavours.

The Countess sipped appreciatively from her glass. ‘Very nice,’ she said.

‘I am glad you approve.’

‘Are you?’

Again that provocative glance. Always testing and teasing.

‘I do not say things I do not mean, Countess.’

She raised a brow in what could only be described as an expression of incredulity.

‘You doubt me?’ he asked.

‘Everyone says things they do not mean, if only to be polite. Particularly men, in my experience.’

Did he? Of course he did. ‘I see no reason in being rude for the sake of it. However, when one’s guest offers to complement an item that was carefully chosen for their enjoyment, why would there be any need to prevaricate?’

‘Then why be glad, when you knew that the wine was perfect? You did not need my approval.’

He was exasperated and…well yes, somewhat entertained…perhaps even amused… ‘My gladness stems from the surprising pleasure of having lunch with a woman who has the sense to recognise a good thing when she tries it.’

She gasped. And then laughed. A wholly pleasing sound to his ear. ‘Touché.’ She lifted her glass in toast and her elegant throat moved as she swallowed a mouthful of wine.

He had the urge to place his lips against the tender white skin and discover if it tasted as delicious as it looked. He picked up his own glass. ‘Your health, Countess.’

She proceeded to demolish another slice of bread and some more of the cheese.

‘The cheese is a local variety, renowned for its sharpness,’ he said.

‘Do you make it here?’

‘No. We do not keep cows. Only horses. Cook knows all the local farmers hereabouts.’

‘I am sure they are delighted to obtain your custom.’

‘I doubt if I am here often enough to make much of a difference.’

‘Your staff is, though.’

‘Indeed.’

She put down her glass and finished the last of the bread and cheese on her plate.

‘More?’ he said, offering her the plate of cheese.

She shook her head. ‘Not another bite. I ate more than I should. It truly was delicious. Thank you.’

The genuine smile warmed him far more than he could have expected.

‘Would you care to see the gardens before you depart?’ he asked. ‘They were planted by my mother before I was born. She loved to garden and this was the only place she was permitted a free hand.’

‘Permitted? ’

Another challenge. It seemed every time he opened his mouth he put his foot in it, as far as she was concerned. Did she have to be so suspicious? Clearly, she was one of these new bluestocking types who questioned any man’s opinion. He would do well to be shot of her.

‘The gardener at our seat in Dorset was and is most particular about adhering to the original design. Apparently, my grandfather laid out a small fortune on it.’

‘I see. Yes. I would love to visit the gardens. And then I really must go before my aunt starts to worry.’

He hadn’t thought she cared a fig about what her aunt thought. He decided not to pull her up short, even though it was obviously just the sort of polite excuse she had decried only moments ago.

‘Then if you are ready?’ He assisted her with her chair and they stepped through the French doors onto the balcony whose steps led out into the garden.

In front of them there spread a large square of lawn, but around the corner was his mother’s favourite place to while away some time on a fine day. The few memories he had were of her sitting here reading to him sometimes, or to herself while he played with a ball.

He led the Countess down the steps and through the arch into an area bounded by hedges on all sides.

‘Oh, how pretty,’ she said. ‘Primroses. What a surprise.’

‘If you look carefully, you will also find violets and campions. It is a garden of English wild flowers. There were daffodils earlier and snow drops and later there will be buttercups and marshmallow.’

‘In other words, it is full of what most people would call weeds.’

If she hadn’t been smiling with such delight, he might have taken her words as a criticism. That genuine smile of approval gave him a warm feeling in the region of his chest. ‘I know. Grandmother called it Mother’s folly, but I wouldn’t let them change it.’

‘I’m glad,’ she said, looking up at him.

He gazed back into her velvety brown eyes and knew the words were not said for mere politeness. For a long moment they gazed at each other. His heart drummed in his ears.

Without thinking, he reached out to take her hand, and their fingers intertwined. Her lips parted and curved slightly, anticipating…

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, tasting wine and inhaling a subtle, fresh and slightly floral scent that was all her own.

Without hesitation, she stepped closer, and he deepened the kiss, lost in a heady sensation of desire, lost in a sense of longing, as if lost in a mist.

Wholly unlike him.

Wholly wrong.

He stepped back. ‘I—’

She smiled at him blithely. ‘What a perfect end to a pleasant afternoon. Now I really must be on my way.’

She headed back towards the house and he followed her, feeling thoroughly off balance .

His mind was playing tricks on him. For her the kiss had been nothing more than a quick little peck, a sort of thank-you.

Hadn’t it?