Page 9 of Starlight and the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #5)

R ob had not realized quite the extent to which Shoreham had ignored Fiona in the bedroom.

Some of what he was thinking to do with her was now stowed away in his mind and categorized as “never going to happen” or “still hope it might happen but won’t hold my breath” or “yes, happening this very night.”

He finished his ice shavings and watched Fiona while she was lost in her thoughts, her sweet tongue slowly licking across the last of her ice shavings.

After a moment, he turned away and fixed his attention on the elegantly dressed family at the table next to them.

They were not titled—this he could tell because they had their children with them and no nanny to attend them.

The man was likely a barrister or wealthy merchant.

He smiled at the children, who were extremely well behaved.

Polite children were something completely foreign to the aristocratic crowd in which he was raised.

Parents rarely attended to their offspring, leaving the chore of raising them to be arrogant, spoiled, and pompous to their hired nannies and tutors.

Fiona had never developed any of those insufferable traits, not even after she had married Shoreham and become his countess.

As a child, she was kind and mothering. She could also be bossy, competitive, and watch out if anyone crossed her or any of her friends, because you did not want the wrath of Fiona to fall upon you.

But she was also fun, clever, and exceptionally compassionate. He had never felt so loved as when he was around her.

There was not a moment he ever regretted being with her.

She always looked out for him, and yet was also ready to tell him the truth whenever he behaved like an ass.

This was what made their situation so hard for him.

He was no longer a little boy. It was his turn to look out for her, to protect her and make her happy.

He would walk through the fires of hell to give Fiona her heart’s desire…children.

Truly, fate was cruel to them. He needed a legitimate heir to carry on the Durham title.

This was the one thing she could not provide, or so she thought.

What if Shoreham had been the problem all along and not her?

Was this possibility not worth pursuing?

Fiona seemed convinced the problem fell completely on her shoulders.

Had something happened to make her certain? Perhaps Shoreham had sired a child out of wedlock.

The notion seemed far-fetched, however. Theirs had been a marriage built on kindness and respect. While other gentlemen might have taken on mistresses or had liaisons outside of marriage, Shoreham never would have committed this utter betrayal.

Or would he?

Rob dared not raise the matter with Fiona, although he did not rule out discussing it later.

Well, he would give it thought. The topic was so sensitive for her, utterly destroying her every time it came up.

“Are you finished, Fiona?”

Her lips and tongue were ruby red from the ice syrup. “All done.”

His had been a lemon ice, which perhaps had left his lips and tongue yellow. Well, they would both look ridiculous as they strolled along the shops. He asked for a cup of boiled water from a passing maid. “At once, Your Grace.”

Fiona tipped her head in question. “I thought we were done. What do you want with the water?”

“To clear our mouths. We shall look like clowns otherwise.”

“Oh, that would be fun.” She burst into merry laughter. “We should paint bright red spots on our cheeks and noses, too, and then walk into the fanciest establishments. Do you think anyone will pass a remark when they learn you are the Duke of Durham and I am Countess Shoreham?”

She would look beautiful even with bright red spots painted all over her face. This was because Fiona was naturally pretty and nothing she did could make her look less than spectacular.

“Do not get ideas, Fiona. I am not going to walk around Brighton looking like a victim of the pox.”

“Ugh, Rob! We are talking clowns, not diseases.”

“Answer is still no.” Once it was delivered, he waited a minute for the water to cool down, then dipped his handkerchief into the cup. After wringing it out, he dabbed the moist cloth across Fiona’s supple mouth to wipe off the red syrup, and then did the same with his to wipe away the yellow.

She cast him an impish smile. “Your tongue is still yellow, Rob.”

“I’ll try not to stick it out. Yours is still red. Do not talk or stick yours out, either.”

“I always talk.”

He grinned. “I know, but try to keep your mouth pinched tightly closed, then no one will be the wiser. Or…I could kiss you inappropriately and we’d both have orange tongues. You know, mix yellow and red, get orange.”

She tossed an ice shaving at him. “Keep your yellow tongue to yourself, Your Grace.”

He angled left and the ice shaving missed him and fell to the floor, quickly melting under the heat of the day. “You never could aim straight. Come on. Let’s go before we start an ice fight in here. Where to next?”

“Would you mind if we browsed the shops?”

“Not at all. Hurrah, sounds like oodles of fun.”

“Do not be sarcastic,” she said with a trill of laughter. “Were you not the one who suggested this outing? I would have been content beating you with a croquet mallet.”

“Oof, violence does not become you.”

“I meant beating you in a game, not actually hitting you over the head until your brains spilled out.”

“Delightful.” He rose and offered his arm. “Besides, as I said, your aim is execrable. You could never beat me at any lawn games that require an accurate eye and a steady hand.”

She tipped her chin up in playful defiance. “Challenge is on, Durham. I shall have you weeping because I am going to beat you so badly, you shall be on your knees in utter devastation.”

“Oh, you think so? A complete rout? That will never happen, demon who has taken possession of Fiona’s body.

” He led her out of the confectionery shop, his chuckle light and playful as he held open the door for her.

“But let’s wait for Cherish’s house party guests to arrive before we play for points.

I want to have an audience when I soundly defeat you. ”

She laughed as they started down the street toward the elegant shops. “You are such a fake, Rob. All I’d have to do is sniffle and pretend I am about to cry, and your soft heart would melt and let me win.”

“Consider me warned.” He paused to peer in the window of a jeweler’s shop. “Come inside with me. Lots of sparkly things to catch your eye.”

“Ooh, pretty. You should buy a trinket for the young lady you choose to marry.”

“You know our deal,” he said more sternly than intended, but the mention of anyone other than her occupying his heart just made him bitter. “I don’t offer for anyone until three months has passed.”

“Fine,” she said, turning away a moment so he would not see the flash of pain in her eyes.

But she hadn’t turned away fast enough, and he saw her smile crumble.

“Why must you be so stubborn? You know the wait is unnecessary. Nothing is going to happen with me. Did you notice those children at the table next to ours?”

He nodded, giving her cheek a light caress. “I did.”

“Weren’t they lovely?” She cast him a fragile smile, obviously forcing herself to ignore her own pain and be happy for this family who were living her dream.

“I wanted to reach out and hug them,” she said, her voice shaky.

“A boy and a girl. How sweet they were. That’s what you must have for yourself. ”

He put a finger to her lips. “Not thinking about it for the rest of this week, and nor should you. Come on, you’re my hostess. It is right that I choose a gift for you. Tell me what you like.”

“It isn’t necessary.”

“I know. I still want to get you something nice.” He put his arm around her to offer comfort for the terrible ache he knew she was feeling. “Diamonds? Rubies? Sapphires? Emeralds? Anything catch your eye?”

He could easily afford to buy her every beautiful piece in the shop. However, he knew it wasn’t the gems Fiona wanted. Pretty sparkles did not interest her. She wanted something that held meaning for both of them.

She said no to the diamonds and sapphires the jeweler brought out to show her.

Refused the glittering necklaces, bracelets, brooches, and earrings on display.

“They sparkle like the stars,” the jeweler said, hoping to coax Fiona into selecting something expensive. “Don’t you love starlight, m’lady?”

“I do,” Fiona said, giving Rob an impish smile.

But she remained firm in her resolve, for she was all about sentiment.

“Would you happen to have a brooch of a clown eating an orange ice?” Rob asked, grinning at Fiona.

The jeweler looked at him cross-eyed. “No, Your Grace. Surely you jest.”

“Oh, no. He is absolutely serious,” Fiona replied, unable to resist a chuckle.

His absurd comment had put a genuine gleam of joy on her face.

Her beautiful face.

“Or a cameo brooch of a lady holding a croquet mallet upraised in her hand?” Rob added, making a show of holding a mallet and swinging it into the air as though about to bring it crashing down on someone’s head.

The poor jeweler looked perplexed.

Fiona took pity on him. “A cameo brooch might be just the thing, but depicting a more classical design. The Muses, perhaps.”

“I have something better.” His eyes brightened suddenly.

“I just received a shipment of rings and amulets made by Italian artisans. The stones themselves are of lapis lazuli, a blue healing stone brought to the ancient land of Egypt from one of the mountainous regions along the Silk Road. These stones signify wisdom and truth. They are also considered to be love stones.”

Rob nodded. The fellow had caught on.