Her Night with the Duke

by Diana Quincy

  “Exactly,” Tori said happily.

  Chapter Nine

  “Why are we up so early?”

  Leela struggled to keep up with Tori as they walked across Lambert Hall’s wide verdant landscape. She yawned, adjusting her bonnet. After the previous day’s encounter with the duke, sleep had eluded Leela yet again. To make matters worse, Tori had dragged her out of bed just before eight o’clock that morning.

  “We are going golfing,” Tori announced.

  “When you say we—” she was almost afraid to ask “—who exactly are you referring to?”

  “You, me and the Duke of Huntington,” Tori chirped, a smile wreathing her face.

  Leela resisted a groan. How had she managed to corner herself into spending large amounts of time in the duke’s company? At least the house party was almost over. Just two more days. Surely she could last that long. “Who else is going to be there?”

  “It’s just the three of us. Oh, and perhaps Mr. Foster. He carries His Grace’s clubs.”

  “Is there a reason we have to do this at such an ungodly hour?” Leela lifted her skirts, annoyed to find her hem damp from the morning dew. “And why in the world are we playing golf?”

  “Because, Miss Grumpy, Devon learned that His Grace is a golf enthusiast. So he arranged everything.”

  Leela resisted the urge to roll her eyes. God knows Edgar would happily race naked around Newcastle’s horse tracks if it meant securing a ducal alliance for the family. “Doesn’t golf require certain essentials? Such as holes in the ground to drop the balls into?”

  “Yes, Devon saw to everything.”

  Leela examined the girl’s sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks and easy smile. “Why are you so cheerful this early in the morning?”

  Usually Tori preferred to stay in bed reading until it was time for breakfast, which they would very inconveniently miss this morning since they had to play golf with Elliot at this ridiculous hour.

  A thought occurred to Leela as Tori’s smile deepened. What if she’d misjudged the depth of Tori’s feelings for the duke? The girl actually seemed eager for the outing. “Are you growing more attached to His Grace?”

  “Oh no,” Tori assured her. “I still think he’s fearsome.”

  “Then why all the smiles?”

  She looped her arm through Leela’s. “Because you’re here. Which means I do not have to be alone with him.” They rounded a copse of trees, which opened up to a vast expanse of flat wide lawn punctuated with gentle rolling hills.

  “Wait a moment.” Leela halted. Withdrawing her arm from Tori’s, she stared at the wide swath of short-cut grass stretched out before them. “Surely, this isn’t where the meadow used to be? The one with the beautiful wildflowers?”

  Tori adjusted her kid leather gloves. “It does look completely different with the grass cut down, doesn’t it.”

  Leela stared in disbelief. “Surely it cannot be.”

  This had once been one of her favorite places at Lambert Hall, and one of the views she missed most during her travels. The flora was nothing short of breathtaking. Vibrant yellow rattles used to be scattered through the fields as if someone had casually tossed them there. The yellow blooms intermixed with white oxeye daisies and untamed purple gnatweed made for a spectacular view. Then there were the orchids. Her favorites. Just looking at the green-winged orchids in shades of lilac-pink made her happy. But now—

  “Yes, silly, it’s the same place,” Tori said impatiently. “I told you that Edgar took care of everything. He had five holes specially dug so that the duke could indulge in his favorite pastime during his visit. The workers spent weeks cutting the grass down with scythes.”

  Leela couldn’t believe her eyes. Her beautiful meadow was gone. It was like someone painting over a Rembrandt for no good reason. “But how . . . when?”

  “Several weeks ago. When the duke first expressed an interest in courting me. Devon immediately started planning the house party. He wants the duke to enjoy his stay.”

  All of those beautiful flowers and grasses destroyed. For what? Just so Elliot could hit useless little balls into holes?

  “Good morning, ladies.” Looking fit and refreshed, Elliot approached carrying a wooden club in his hand. He wore long trousers and a tweed morning coat tailored to his athletic form. An artfully wrought cravat adorned his neck. His secretary, the young man who’d danced with Tori at the breakfast, trailed behind, carrying the rest of the duke’s clubs.

  Elliot’s forehead wrinkled when he spotted Leela. “Lady Devon, what a pleasant surprise,” he said smoothly. “Lady Victoria. I do hope I haven’t brought you two out too early.”

  “Not at all.” Tori dipped a curtsy. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

  Leela put her chin up. “Good morning, Duke.” She deliberately spit out the word duke the way one might utter an expletive. The more rancor she could manufacture between her and Elliot, the better for all concerned.

  He narrowed his eyes. She registered the glint of irritation in them. Good.

  “Are you . . . enjoying the course, Your Grace?” Tori stammered through her question.

  “Yes, most certainly. It is delightful.” His reassuring words seemed calibrated to put the young lady at ease. “The easy hills and wide expanses make this parkland a pleasure to play on.”

  “That’s just great,” Leela mumbled loud enough to be heard.

  “I beg your pardon, Lady Devon?” His polite words held a sharp edge.

  “I said that is just great,” she responded in a perfectly polite manner.

  He considered her momentarily, before turning his attention to Tori. “Are you ready to attempt your hand at golf?”

  “I am afraid Lady Devon . . . and I . . . know . . . very little about golf,” Tori managed to say.

  “Feel free to go on without us,” Leela put in. “We wouldn’t want to slow you down.”

  “Lady Devon is so thoughtful. But you needn’t worry about me.” Elliot tossed a horsehide-wrapped golf ball into the air. “Foster and I were up quite early. We’ve already played ten holes.”

  “Oh dear.” Red suffused Tori’s face. “I thought . . . we were . . . to meet at half-eight.”

  “We were,” he reassured her. “Ladies do not play the entire course. I thought we would start with some putting.”

  “Why don’t ladies play the entire course?” Leela asked.

  “It just isn’t done.” He shrugged. “I hadn’t given it much thought as to why. Primarily, I suppose, because trying to swing the club would be difficult, given your clothing restrictions.”

  Leela couldn’t argue with that. Confining clothes were the reason she donned shirwal under her gown when she’d traveled on horseback. The baggy trousers, which tied at the waist with a cord and tapered at the ankle, allowed her to ride without exposing her legs.

  “Who would like to go first?” he inquired.

  Leela gently nudged Tori forward. “Lady Victoria should.”

  Tori advanced, her chin tucked in a shy manner. “I shall try my best.”

  “That is all I can ask.” He offered his arm to lead her to the first hole. Leela reluctantly followed with Foster trailing.

  “Ah, here we are.” Elliot stopped a few feet away from a gentle hill near some woods. He held a hand out behind him. “The putter, Foster.”

  The secretary stepped forward to take the existing hand-carved club from the duke and replace it with another, this one with a low flat face. Curious, Leela inched forward to take a look at the four-inch hole that had been cut into the ground.

  “It isn’t very deep,” she observed.

  “No, just about four inches down.” Turning, he walked about eight steps from the hole and halted. He directed Tori to join him, offering instructions on how to hit the ball into the hole.

  “To control the ball, you want to roll it more than hit it.” He demonstrated as he spoke, his long arms expertly arranged on the club. The jacket he wore emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, h
is trousers the length of strong legs. “Lean forward, like so.”

  He gently hit the ball with the face of the putter. “Once you make the stroke, don’t lift the head of the club. Keep it low.” Even the ball seemed to be unable to resist the duke’s will. It dutifully rolled straight into the hole.

  Tori nervously took the club. Elliot was patient with her, advising her on her stance. Her first time, she completely missed the ball. But then she improved. Sometimes hitting the ball too short. But before long she was successfully hitting the ball in the hole in three strokes.

  Leela couldn’t help noting Elliot’s patient and encouraging manner with Tori throughout the lesson. He was gentle with her and kind, too. Perhaps he was growing fond of the girl.

  To Leela’s dismay, jealousy flared in her belly. She ignored the unpleasant sensation. Tamped it down. Obviously she wasn’t thinking clearly. There was no other explanation. Unless she was just a terrible, terrible person. Only a bad person would feel an attraction for her stepdaughter’s suitor. It was disgusting. Despicable.

  “Can I try . . . hitting it very hard . . . just this once?” Tori asked the duke.

  He smiled at her enthusiasm. “As you wish.”

  He showed her how to swing the club. Even though her restrictive gown prohibited Tori from executing the full range of motion required for a proper hit, she still managed to give the ball a good whack. It sailed about five feet off the ground before bounce-hopping across the lawn, momentum propelling the ball into the woods.

  “Oh no!” Tori covered her mouth. “I’ve made a hash of it.”

  “Not at all,” Elliot said. “Foster will retrieve the ball.” The secretary was already trotting toward the woods before the duke finished the sentence.

  “Our woods can be confounding.” Tori appeared distressed. “He might not see the immense hole near the big oak. It’s a bit of a drop. He could fall in. He might get lost.”

  “That particular wood is easy to get lost in,” Leela told the duke. She’d learned that firsthand when, shortly after her marriage, she’d decided to explore her new home. When she hadn’t turned up for lunch, Douglas sent everyone in the household, except Aunt Helene, to look for her. Unfortunately, Edgar was the one to find her in the woods. He’d taunted her mercilessly, making frightening animal sounds, before revealing himself and leading her home.

  “I shall go and make certain Mr. Foster doesn’t get lost.” Tori handed the club to Elliot.

  Leela watched Tori hurry toward the trees. It struck her that the girl hadn’t stammered during her last two exchanges with the duke.

  Elliot frowned after her. “Surely it isn’t necessary for Lady Victoria to lead Foster out. As a gentleman, I should be the one to do it if a rescue is required.”

  “Think of how embarrassing it will be if you get lost and Victoria has to save you as well.”

  “That’s absurd. Surely they can’t be that bad.”

  Leela merely shrugged.

  Elliot searched her face. “Have you gotten lost in those woods before?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  His eyes twinkled. “You have, haven’t you?”

  “Why do you find that so amusing?”

  “Because you’ve traveled the world on your own but somehow you managed to get lost on your own estate.”

  “I was seventeen years old. Just a girl. And I got a bit turned around is all.”

  He surveyed the wood. There was no sign of either Tori or Mr. Foster. He held up the putter. “Would you like to give it a try while we wait?”

  Leela wanted to say no. The less contact and engagement she had with the man the better. But curiosity triumphed over her caution.

  He handed her the putter. “Now, stand with your legs slightly parted.”

  She adjusted her feet. “Like this?”

  “Well, I cannot see your feet but I am sure it’s fine.” He bent over her showing her how to hold the club. “Hold the shaft like this.” He adjusted her fingers. She fought the shiver that coursed through her at his touch. Even though she wore gloves. “Hold the shaft gently, with both hands,” he murmured.

  He smelled of exertion and male skin. The warmth of his body mingled with hers. She wanted to lay her head against his chest. To close her eyes and savor the sensation of being so close to him.

  Unnerved, she smacked the ball, a jerky and inaccurate hit, and dropped the club before practically leaping away from him. “There—I tried it.”

  His expression dubious, he watched the ball putter only about two feet away. “That wasn’t a very good hit. Would you like to try again?”

  “No,” Leela responded almost before he finished his question. She needed to stay as far away from the man as possible. “Golf really isn’t that interesting to me.”

  “I see.” He paused. “I was surprised to see you this morning. I expected Lady Victoria to come alone. With her lady’s maid as a chaperone, of course.”

  “Believe me when I tell you it was not my idea to attend. Victoria seems to think I should become better acquainted with you to help her decide whether to accept your proposal.”

  His brows shot down, hooding over his gaze. “Is there a possibility that she might not consent to wed me?”

  “Are you such a braggart that you assume all women will just fall at your feet at the snap of your fingers?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Well, there was one woman, a very discriminating woman as it turns out, who recently told me that I am as beautiful as the moon.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Talk like that,” she hissed, her eyes darting to the wood to make certain they were still alone. “What happened at the inn is sordid enough without you constantly referencing it.”

  “Denying your feelings won’t will them out of existence.”

  “Feelings?” Leela’s hands tingled. “Who said anything about feelings?” A single carnal night together was one thing. The possibility of true tenderness between them was quite another. That would truly be a fatheeha.

  “Let us be very clear with each other,” she said. “The strongest emotion I was overcome with that evening was loneliness. After two years of traveling, you made me feel less alone.”

  Elliot’s serious gaze searched hers. “We both wish our situation were that simple, but it’s not.”

  “It certainly is. Any man would have served the purpose you served that evening.”

  “It looks like we’re just in time for breakfast!” Tori’s breathless voice cut between them. She and Mr. Foster emerged from the woods red-faced and out of breath. “I’m famished.”

  “Darling, I do not think we’ll make it back to the house in time for the morning meal,” Leela said.

  “We won’t have to,” Tori said. “It looks like breakfast . . . came to us.”

  The duke looked over Leela’s shoulder. “Your timing is indeed perfect, Lady Victoria.” He gestured to someone behind Leela. “Set up over there if you will.”

  She turned to find a team of servants rolling up with wheelbarrows full of everything needed for an alfresco meal. The dozen or so servants quickly set up a table, adding linens, silver and crystal. Breads, sweet buns, cheeses, fruits and jams followed.

  “How wonderful!” Tori clapped her hands together. “Did you . . . arrange this, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, I thought you might enjoy taking breakfast here on the green.” His gaze moved to his secretary. “Did you get lost in the woods, Foster?”

  The young man gave his master a sheepish look. “I hate to admit it, Your Grace, but it was a near thing. I am much obliged to her ladyship.”

  Tori giggled. “It is good that I went after him.”

  “Indeed.” The duke looked at Foster. “You may return to the house.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The young man went to gather the duke’s clubs.

  “I should go as well,” Leela put in quickly. She would send Tori’s lad
y’s maid back to serve as chaperone. She needed to escape, to gain some control over herself.

  “Oh no!” Tori protested. “You must join us for breakfast.”

  “The staff is here to serve you.” Leela didn’t look in Huntington’s direction. “I’ll send your lady’s maid.”

  “Oh, please do say you’ll stay,” Tori implored. “Shouldn’t she join us, Your Grace?”

  “I think we have inconvenienced Lady Devon quite enough.” He did not spare Leela another glance. He plucked a grape from the food-laden table. “And I, for one, will not complain about having the opportunity to spend some time with you, Lady Victoria.”

  Tori flushed and Leela registered the panic in her eyes. But this was one time that Leela could not come to the young woman’s rescue.

  “Enjoy your meal.” As she strode across the cut fields where her precious wildflowers once grew, Leela vowed never to be alone with Huntington again. That is how she must always think of him, as the Duke of Huntington, and not as Elliot Townsend, the man she’d been intimate with at the Black Swan. The hamar still believed he and Leela had unfinished business between them. She wasn’t interested in Huntington’s feelings. Nor her own. Neither of them could afford to become hampered by emotion of any kind.

  At least he’d be gone soon. The house party ended the day after tomorrow. Once the guests departed, Devon, Aunt Helene and Victoria planned to stay at Lambert Hall for a fortnight before returning to London for the betrothal ball. Leela intended to remain with them.

  As long as she stayed far from London, there’d be no chance encounters with Huntington. No intimate conversations or exploration of feelings. If ever a situation called for a stiff upper lip, this was it.

  Chapter Ten

  “Perhaps we should discuss the marriage settlements once the rest of the guests have departed,” the Earl of Devon said quietly to Hunt.

  “I instructed my solicitor to draw the papers up before I departed London.” Hunt sipped his port, his eyes on the salon entrance. “Upon our return to London, I shall make certain everything is in order. The papers will be delivered to you in Town.”