Page 32

R as did not have a great deal of experience with shame.

It was not an emotion he experienced often.

Certainly not since achieving adulthood.

He treated his servants with respect and paid them a good wage.

He was thoughtful with his responsibilities to his title, his estate, and his position in the House of Lords.

He loved his sister and even maintained a generous attitude toward his mother, which he felt was quite virtuous of him.

So shame was a rare and difficult experience.

So difficult, in fact, that all afternoon, he had shoved it down and away.

He had maintained an amiable persona throughout tea and supper.

He had done everything he could—within reason—to show that he valued Kynthea.

He’d gone out of his way to be kind to her today, all while reminding himself that no duke would feel shame for sharing physical pleasure with a woman who asked for it.

Better yet, he had not taken her virginity. Indeed, he had made sure that what they shared had no consequences.

And yet, he felt such burning shame that now—alone in his bedroom—he was choking on it.

He was wealthy, educated, and titled. In fact, he was the most eligible bachelor in all of England right then. If he could not find a way to marry the woman of his choice, then he was not worthy of his privileges.

Kynthea was his choice.

His shame came from the fact that it had taken him this long to realize it.

Step by step, he reviewed his day. Most importantly, he thought about her and how she had come through everything with grace.

He spun through the experience in his tack room slowly, lingering on the best moments.

His favorite was Kynthea’s face as she discovered her own sexuality.

The memory of her breasts still brought his cock to attention.

Indeed, he doubted that particular pleasure would ever fade.

How odd that the sight of her serving his mother tea was equally delightful.

Her poise despite the duchess’ scrutiny filled him with pride.

So different from Zoe’s fire. Kynthea didn’t flash like the girl did, but her strength shone brighter.

A steady hand was always better than a sudden fist.

He listened as the house grew quiet around him.

His mother had left soon after the meal.

She wanted to sleep in her own bed tonight, and so had departed.

He hadn’t needed her approval to wed Kynthea, but he’d seen her grudging respect grow as Miss Petrelli balanced her cousin’s interests, his mother’s probing questions, and—oddly enough—his servants’ casual neglect.

Everyone, his mother included, assumed he intended to wed Zoe.

And though his staff was well trained, they immediately gave deference to the child and set the lady last. They served Zoe first, his mother second, and Kynthea third.

That wasn’t the correct order of precedent since his mother should be first. It wasn’t the nature of proximity because they often went around Kynthea to get to Zoe.

It was simply his staff acting as they thought he wanted, and that was inappropriate. They should act as was proper.

Normally, he would have a stern word with his butler about it.

Indeed, he had spoken sharply to the man before heading to bed.

But it was a pleasure to see Kynthea subtly correct his staff without ruffling a single feather.

Every time they headed toward Zoe first, she commented sweetly, “Oh look, Duchess, the wine is here. Do you favor the cabernet?” Or some such comment.

His servants had had no choice but to serve his mother first because Kynthea had made a point of it.

Zoe hadn’t noticed. Indeed, he was fairly certain the girl was overwhelmed by the situation.

She’d held her own at first, but as the conversation wore on, she proved to be sadly out of step with anything that wasn’t about horses.

He was sure that single vision would expand as she matured, but at the moment, she was too young to show well against her cousin.

Kynthea, on the other hand, had proved that she was intelligent, could handle the servants, and even gain his mother’s grudging respect.

All of these things were important to him, but they weren’t what decided him upon her.

That was something much more elusive. So elusive that he didn’t know what it was and had sat down to contemplate the matter while he waited for the rest of the house to go to sleep.

That, of course, was the best part of the day.

He had convinced Miss Petrelli and Lady Zoe to spend the night.

It had been easy to take Zoe back to the stables where she burned away the evening checking his horses.

By the time she was done, it was too late to travel back to the city.

And suddenly, his guests had to spend the night.

Kynthea was one door down the hallway from him. And he hoped that she would give him the chance to apologize. He wanted to tell her he was an idiot. And he wanted to talk about the future— their future together. But he would wait a few moments longer just to be sure everyone slept—

A scratch sounded at his door. His brows rose. He hadn’t thought her bold enough to seek him out but was grateful for the surprise. He stood up, not even bothering to adjust his evening robe. He didn’t plan to wear it for long.

He was just reaching the door when the knob turned on its own and a figure stepped inside, rapidly shutting the door behind her.

“Lady Zoe?” he gasped, quickly pulling his robe closed. “Is something wrong?”

She was wearing her hair loose about her shoulders and her blue eyes were impossibly wide.

She wore his mother’s borrowed dressing gown which was a thoroughly disconcerting sight given her diminutive stature and China doll looks.

His mother had never been that small, so it gave Zoe the appearance of a little girl playing dress up.

“Y-yes, Your Grace,” she rasped, her voice very high and small. “I, um, I cannot stay away.”

“What?”

She spoke right over him. “You overwhelm me. I—I am overcome!”

Wasn’t that the dialogue from the very bad comedy playing at the London theater? And—oh no!

Lady Zoe launched herself at him. It wasn’t done from impulse.

It looked like she steeled herself to do it and then jumped like she might leap over a very large puddle.

Either way, he was obliged to catch her.

Or rather deflect her as he quickly leaped to the side.

He made sure she didn’t fall, but he was not going to let her pursed lips land anywhere near his face.

She stumbled as she landed but remained true to her athletic nature. She pivoted quickly, then cried out.

“Your Grace! I need you!”

“No!” he snapped. “You most certainly do not!” And in case she didn’t understand, he held his hand straight out in front of her. She would have to bodily overcome him to approach. Unless she used his hands to her advantage, which she did to horrifying effect.

She grabbed his wrist and slammed his hand against her breast, what there was of it. She was mostly muscle and surprising strength.

“Oh, Your Grace!”

“Absolutely not!” He leaped back, bodily jerking his hand away. And when she stepped closer, he let out an undignified squeak of alarm. He could overpower this child in a heartbeat, but he didn’t want to touch her. He didn’t want her to touch him!

He scrambled to his bedroom door and hauled it open fast enough to roar, “Kynthea! Come out here immediately!”

If he’d been thinking properly, he wouldn’t have used her formal name. He had no right to call her Kynthea yet. And damn it, Lady Zoe was quick enough to catch the slip.

She frowned, stumbled to a halt, and whispered, “Kynthea?”

The lady in question came rushing out of her bedroom, hastily buttoning up her dress as she bolted from her room. Her hair was down, and he was man enough to see how beautiful it looked. But he was more interested in the way Zoe’s gaze hopped between the two of them.

“You called her Kynthea,” she accused. “You have… You are…” She sniffed. Was she crying? Surely not! She wasn’t a girl who cried, but clearly something was overcoming her emotions.

“What is happening?” Kynthea said, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the two of them. “Zoe?”

Oh hell. It looked just like…well, just like Zoe had probably intended.

“She came to my room,” he said. “She… I did not!” He backed away from the girl like she was the destruction of all his hopes.

And damnation, if any of his staff discovered them like this, then it might just happen.

Even the most loyal servants whispered. “Damn it!” he cursed.

Then he jerked his fingers at Kynthea. “Get in here. Please!”

His gaze must have been wild enough to convince her. She crossed the hallway quickly and he shut the door solidly behind her. Then, keeping himself as far away as possible from Zoe, he gestured to the girl.

“She is confused. Nothing happened.” He looked desperately at her. “Can you help?”

She’d already understood and was crossing to her cousin.

But Zoe skittered backwards as she wrapped her arms tightly about herself.

“How could you?” she asked as her eyes shimmered with tears.

Her gaze was all on her cousin and there was true pain in her voice.

“You knew he was to be my husband. You knew! ”

“Zoe, please try to understand—”

“I even put the potion in his wine. He drank all of it!”

Ras jolted. “What? You dosed my drink?”

Kynthea shot him a frustrated look. “It did not harm you.”

“You knew?”

She shrugged. “Not that she’d done it. And I did warn you.”

He threw up his hands as he looked at the girl. “Why would you do this? I have been clear with you from the beginning.” He frowned. “Even Mother said you were too young, and she said it to your face!”

“I am sixteen!”

“Exactly!”