Page 7 of Only a Fortnight with the Duke
CHAPTER 7
“ Y our home is lovely,” Simon commented. He walked with his hands flat, crossed over one another behind his back. The evening was darker than usual, the moon just a thin crescent hanging above their heads. Lamps lit their path, and Sarah, following behind them a respectable distance, carried a set of candles just in case. The atmosphere would have been romantic, Emmeline thought, if it weren’t for her present company. “You must have plenty of warm memories of growing up here. Take note of what you love the most–we will incorporate it into our home after we are wed.”
Lady Clark narrowed her eyes at the Duke, vexed further by the way his eyes bore into her over that wicked grin.
“You ought to concern yourself with courting me properly before you begin to decorate our marital home in your mind,” she hissed. In response, he held out his arm and placed hers upon it, pulling her just a few inches closer to him. He threw a pointed glance back at their chaperone, but Emmeline ignored his warning. “You’ve wasted most of the first week already, anyhow.”
A low, rumbling chortle bubbled up from the depths of Simon’s chest. “The fortnight does not begin until tomorrow.”
Emmeline stopped in her tracks, startling both the Duke and Sarah, who each stopped and stumbled a few seconds later. Simon’s eyes searched hers, but the mischief in them never dissipated. “It has been four days since we made our initial deal, Your grace,” she argued, her temper rising as it always seemed to do around the Duke. “You can not in earnest be suggesting that we discard them altogether.”
“Why ever not? We hardly spoke at all in these last few days.” Emmeline knew this not to be true. “You were so confident when we spoke of our little wager. What has changed in the interim? Have you become afraid that you might lose?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she spat, with a huff. “It is the principle of the matter! Not counting the last few days would be dishonest.”
“Would it? I would argue the opposite is true, my Lady.”
“In what way could you possibly mean?”
The Duke’s expression darkened, and he tilted his head toward her, crowding her space. “Weren’t you betrothed to another man until just a few short hours ago? Are you not still–”
“I never accepted Lord Bancroft’s proposal.”
“Yes. But your father did, and as regrettable as it is that Lord Clark was able to do so on your behalf at all, he did do so, didn’t he? If my memory serves me correctly, that is what I overheard at the lake.”
“You are vile.”
“I assume that what you mean to say is, ‘Yes, your Grace, how could I forget? Our courtship will begin in the morning and last a fortnight from there.’ Unless, of course, you have already fallen for my great wit and undeniable charm, and it was your hope to spend less time concealing those feelings. You’re an honest woman, Lady Clark. Be sure that you let me know when you have been charmed, and not a moment later. The faster we can be married, the better.”
“My only qualm with your trickery is that it will force me into your company for longer than was originally necessary. It is apparent that you needed the extra time to work on your insufferable personality.” Then, almost too quickly, the look of disdain melted away from her features and she replaced it with a sweet, endearing smile. The way she looked in the lamplight was a distraction, but the change in her demeanor took his breath away. He had never seen her look at anyone with such warmth. “I look forward to besting you in your game, Your Grace. What delights have you planned for the morning?”
It took the Duke a moment to get his thoughts together, mildly irritated that she had not persisted in the argument. His trick had never been about time at all–this he was sure he did not need. There was no young lady in all the world who could resist his charms for more than a few days, much less a fortnight, once they were in full effect. No, he’d brought it up to coax her into another vexing conversation. He’d wanted to hear her sharp tongue and engaged in the livery. “May I call upon you in the morning?”
“Certainly, you may, your Grace. I look forward to it. Shall I prepare activities for us?”
“No need, my Lady.” His previous confidence returned, written over his face in a gentle smirk. “I’ve the whole day planned already.”
“Is that so? You intend to be my guest, but have designed the day for us? What am I to do?”
“Participate.”
“ Participate? ”
“Yes, that is all that I ask of you. In truth, I would prefer to invite you to my own estate. My dear friend, His Grace George Honeyfield, Duke of Newbridge, and his sister will be staying with me there while their home is undergoing renovations. I think you would particularly enjoy Elizabeth’s company, but they have gone to Paris on a short trip, and I did not think you would want to be there with me alone.”
Emmeline caught her gasp in her throat just before it could alert the Duke to having mortified her with her suggestion. “Surely you have staff.”
“Is the staff at my estate chaperone enough to guarantee your dignity? If so, I would not mind to–”
“No.”
“I be your pardon?”
“You will come here tomorrow, as you said. And we will have tea, and I will show you the riding trails nearby. There is a wild apple orchard at the end of it, Your Grace, and you have not tried apples until you’ve had those apples.”
“Very well,” he chuckled. “And what of my own plans?”
“I am certain that you are capable of working something out.”
“You have incredible instincts,” he teased her, as they came back around to the garden door. She removed her hand from his gingerly, and they turned to face one another. “I enjoyed dinner tonight, and our walk, Lady Clark. I look forward to spending more time with you, but the hour is late, and I would not want to sully your reputation by overstaying my welcome.”
“Yes, thank you for this evening, Your Grace. I look forward to our outing tomorrow.”