At The Duke's Pleasure

by Tracy Anne Warren

  Slowing his pace, he shifted to meet her gaze. “There is nothing in the least frail about your mind, my lady. And you are never to pretend ignorance on any subject, not with me. You may always say exactly what you wish while in my company.”

  She paused, her lips parting on a soft inhalation. “Even if we disagree and my remarks make you cross?”

  A faint smile played over his mouth. “Yes, even then. And so far I haven’t noticed you cavilling at the prospect of making me cross. You do it with astonishing frequency.”

  “Do I? You rarely seem out of countenance.”

  “Oh, believe me, I am. It’s just that I was trained from an early age not to wear my emotions on my sleeve. A peer is always in control of both his thoughts and feelings, no matter the provocation.”

  His remark reminded her of Mallory’s earlier comment about Claire shaking him out of his usual reserve. Does he hide himself? she wondered. Are there layers below the surface that he never reveals, not even to his intimates, his family?

  Certainly he didn’t show them to her, and if her plan succeeded, he never would, he wouldn’t have the chance. Yet even were she willing to give him that chance, such things required time and familiarity. Even more, they took a willingness of spirit from both parties, since bonds of trust could not be formed by one person alone. Like love, such feelings must be given and returned, mutually nurtured, or else they would wither and eventually cease to exist at all. It would seem, then, that whatever secrets each of them kept, they were destined to remain their own.

  “Well, you are always at liberty to express your anger with me,” she told him in a carefree tone.

  Having reached the neatly manicured perimeter of Lady Harold’s rose garden, he drew them to a halt. “That’s very good of you. What about others?”

  She cocked her head. “Other what?”

  “Emotions?” he said in a deep rumble. “Have I your leave to express those as well?”

  Suddenly she couldn’t quite catch her breath. “Of course. We must always be ourselves in each other’s company.”

  An enigmatic expression came into his eyes. “Yes. I rather think we must.”

  He leaned toward her.

  Is he going to kiss me? she wondered. Her heart hammered in anticipation, eyelids growing heavy. He drew nearer still, his gaze on her lips. But then he stopped and straightened, as if remembering they were not alone, dozens of other guests strolling around the property as well.

  She expected him to escort her back. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket. “I have something for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for days, but something always seemed to interfere. What that might have been, I can’t imagine,” he teased, as he handed her a small parcel wrapped in plain brown paper.

  After barely a second’s hesitation, she pulled off the ribbon and tore open the wrapping. Inside lay a cube of wood, which had been cut and smoothed into a series of interlocking pieces.

  “It’s a Chinese wood knot,” Edward supplied. “You take the pieces apart, then try to fit them back in order. You did say you like puzzles, as I recall.”

  “Oh, I do!” She turned the polished cube over in her hand. “I’m half afraid of trying it though. What if I can never make it whole again?”

  “You will. It kept me guessing for a while, but eventually I figured out the trick. You shall as well.”

  She smiled. “Wherever did you get it? No wait, don’t tell me. Lord Drake.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Correct on the first guess. Drake is always looking for interesting bits and pieces from around the world, so when he gave this to me, I immediately thought of you and had him procure another. I hope it brings you pleasure.”

  “It will, I am sure. Thank you, Your—” Stopping, she started again. “Thank you, Edward.”

  His mouth curved into a broad smile. “You are most welcome. And had I known a mere trifle was all it would take to convince you to use my given name, I would have presented you with one ages ago.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, do not get too used to it. You may yet be ‘Your Grace’ again. Unless you have more presents hiding somewhere on your person, that is,” she teased.

  But instead of joining in her humour, he sent her a serious, inquiring look. “Would that make a difference, if I did? I am pleased to give you whatever you like, you know. You have only to ask and I shall do my utmost to see that it is yours.”

  The smile fell from her mouth, her breath caught almost painfully inside her chest. She stared at the puzzle block with which she had been so delighted. Now it felt hard and cold, lifeless like her heart.

  Unable to look at it anymore, she squeezed the puzzle tightly inside her palm. “Generous as your offer may be, I am not one to be swayed by the acquisition of physical things. What I find most important are those intangibles, which can neither be bought nor wrapped with ribbon and paper. But apparently you know me even less than I had imagined.”

  “Claire, you’ve misconstrued—”

  “I believe I should like to go back now, if you would be so good as to escort me.”

  The muscle grew taut in his jaw. “You know I did not mean—”

  “Very well then,” she declared, gazing away from him across the lawn. “I shall go on my own.” She’d taken three steps before he caught her.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” he said. “As for this other matter, we shall talk of it later.”

  But there was nothing about which to talk, she realized with a weary sigh. Did he really imagine he could shower her with gifts and the strife between them would be over? Did he honestly believe her reasons for wanting to be free of this engagement were so thoughtless and superficial that possessions would change her mind? Well, if her initial pleasure in his company had put any chinks in her wall of resolve, he’d just neatly plastered them up again.

  They spoke not a word as he led her back to the centre of the festivities. By now, everyone had finished their meals and their naps, and were once again engaged in a variety of amusements.

  She and Edward had been back for less than a minute when their hostess approached, her purplish-brown skirts swaying around her plump ankles.

  “Your Grace, Lady Claire,” the older woman said, “I do hope you are enjoying yourselves this afternoon. I couldn’t help but notice the two of you walking near my rose garden.”

  Claire used the distraction to slip her hand off Edward’s arm.

  “Yes, your grounds are exquisite, as are your flowers,” Edward replied, giving no indication that he noticed Claire’s desertion, although Claire was sure he had.

  Lady Harold preened, her landscape a well-known pride and joy. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She hesitated for a brief moment, then continued on. “There is a group of us discussing great architects and I understand that your beautiful grounds at Braebourne were designed by Capability Brown himself.”

  “In part. My father had many of the gardens expanded in his time as duke.”

  “Oh, we would love to hear. Would you mind terribly joining our little conversation? And Lady Claire, I promise I shall borrow him only for the veriest little while, then have him right back to you. If His Grace is in accord, that is?”

  “Of course you must go, Edward,” Claire said, sending Lady Harold a beatific smile. “Pray do not worry about me. I am sure I shall find some other means of entertaining myself during your absence.”

  His brows drew sharp and he shot Claire a look, but as they both knew, there was nothing he could do to escape their hostess’s request. Not without appearing impolite, that is. “I should be honoured, Lady Harold,” he said. “Please lead the way.”

  With the older woman tittering at his side, Claire watched her squire Edward off across the lawn. He sent Claire one last glance over his shoulder, his warning to stay out of trouble clear in his gaze. Smiling, she waggled her fingers, then turned away.

  Let him stew, she thought. It’s no more
than he deserves.

  Once he was out of sight, she let her shoulders droop, sighing softly under her breath as she studied the puzzle again. Running her thumb over the polished wood, she considered striding across the way to throw it into Lady Harold’s decorative fishpond.

  She imagined doing just that, watching the block sink to the bottom and nestle unseen among the reeds. But such an act would be childish. Even more, she knew that her impulsiveness would only wound her that much more deeply. For in spite of Edward’s thoughtless words, she wanted his gift, stupid as such feelings might be.

  “And what, dear lady, has put such a serious expression on your face?” asked a low masculine voice from just over her shoulder.

  Glancing up, she met a pair of handsome grey eyes. “Lord Islington. Heavens, you startled me.”

  “My apologies. I should not have intruded on your private contemplation.”

  “No, no, it is entirely all right. I didn’t realize you were in attendance today or I should have greeted you earlier.”

  He smiled, both of them aware that she would have done no such thing, not with Edward close at hand.

  In fact, she had barely seen Islington since that night of the ball when they had shocked everyone with their dancing. The couple of times she had encountered him afterward had been from a distance, their only contact an exchange of formal nods.

  Truthfully, she’d been somewhat relieved by his absence, not only because of her promise to Edward, but because Lord Islington made her the tiniest bit nervous—and not in a good way.

  But she was only letting Edward’s warning influence her, she was sure. Even now, she had yet to hear anyone give an accurate accounting of Lord Islington’s disgrace. Why, he was probably no worse a scoundrel than she was herself with her newly minted “wild” reputation.

  “I arrived but a short while ago,” he explained in response to her inquiry. “Unavoidable business kept me away from the earlier festivities. I had promised Lady Harold, however, that I would stop by if I could possibly manage. She is a distant cousin of mine and puts great store in such familial bonds.”

  “I am sure she does. It is good of you to attend, although you might perhaps wish to wait to say your hellos, since she is with the duke and several others at present. I am given to understand that they are discussing estate landscaping.”

  His eyes sparkled with unconcealed amusement. “Then I thank you most sincerely for the advice.”

  She returned the smile, turning the puzzle cube around inside her hand.

  “What have you there?”

  “Nothing of note,” she told him, slipping the Chinese wood knot into her pocket. “The weather is quite lovely today, do you not think?”

  “Most definitely,” he agreed, allowing her to change the subject. “Although it is by no means so lovely as you. You are as radiant as a newly blossomed rose in your pretty yellow finery. I am surprised hummingbirds aren’t fluttering around you in search of nectar. I know I would be, were I a bird.”

  She didn’t know whether to be flattered or amused by his remark. It struck her in that moment that Edward never said such things. He didn’t fawn or cajole, didn’t employ clever turns of phrase to coax a smile or make her feminine pulse beat faster. Then again, one never had to wonder if his words were exaggerations. He was scrupulously honest and forthright, and when he did offer a compliment, there was no doubt that it was genuinely and sincerely meant. Comparing the styles of the two men, she decided she much preferred Edward’s way of doing things.

  Besides, Edward was far too serious to spout flowery phrases and syrupy metaphors. He would sound utterly ridiculous in the attempt. And while it was true that he shared his surname with a famous poet, she knew it was the only thing the two men had in common.

  “You are very quiet, Lady Claire. Surely I have not discomfited you?” Islington said, drawing her back from her musings. “Given the stories I have been hearing of late, I had rather thought you would be full of verve. Your daring has becoming legendary.”

  Her shoulders went back. “Legendary? No, nothing of the sort. Unexpected in an entertaining kind of way—to that I might admit—but not legendary.”

  Islington laughed, an appreciative grin on his face. “What do you say to a stroll? It’s sure to create ruffled feathers on more than the ducks in my cousin’s pond.”

  Claire was debating how best to answer, when Leo and Lawrence appeared, taking up positions on either side of her.

  “Lady Claire,” Leo said, taking her hand to kiss.

  “Dearest sister-to-be,” Lawrence followed, repeating his brother’s action in an exaggerated way that made her guffaw.

  “We were only just looking for you,” Leo continued, “wondering where you had got, when suddenly there you were.” Maintaining his hold, he threaded her hand over his arm. On her other side, Lawrence did the same.

  “Oh, hallo, your lordship,” Leo remarked, as if he only then realized that Islington was present. “Capital day, is it not? You won’t mind if we spirit Lady Claire away for a while. Family matters, you understand.”

  Islington scowled, looking as if he did indeed want to object. But before he could say so much as a word, the twins were trundling her off. Glancing back, she called a laughing good-bye to Islington. He nodded, scowling harder.

  Claire let the twins march her several yards away, waiting to speak until they were out of Islington’s earshot. “That was rather badly done of you both, you know. You bordered on rudeness.”

  “I thought it was very well done,” Leo declared with an unrepentant grin on his mouth. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lawrence, old man?”

  “Unquestionably,” his brother concurred. “We got in and out with a minimum of fuss, neatly liberating you from that libertine.”

  “How do you know he’s a libertine? Or that I wanted liberating?” she charged.

  “Well, of course you did,” Leo stated, drawing the three of them to a halt. “We could see it on your face.”

  “Indeed we could,” Lawrence asserted, defending his brother’s assertion.

  She gave a delicate snort to let them both know what she thought of that. “I suspect there is another reason entirely.”

  “Oh? And what might that be?” both twins said in unison as they sent her direct stares, plainly hoping she would believe them if they put up a united front.

  She didn’t. “And how do you know Lord Islington is a libertine?” she repeated. “That’s what Edward told you, I suppose.”

  Leo grew serious. “He did, but I’ve also heard other talk.”

  “What sort of talk? What is he supposed to have done?”

  “Had to do with a girl, although I’m not sure about the particulars,” Lawrence said. “Still and all, he’s a bad sort and we knew you were in need of rescue.”

  “I am perfectly capable of looking after myself and had no need of rescue,” she stated in a reproving tone that belied her relief that they’d hurried her away. “I am sure, however, that you have only my best interests at heart.”

  They both looked mollified by her statement. “’Course we do,” Leo said.

  “Exactly,” Lawrence agreed.

  “Why do I suspect, however, that there is more to your intervention than you are letting on?”

  “Don’t know what you mean,” Leo bristled.

  “Not a bit,” Lawrence declared.

  She turned a gimlet eye on them, watching as they began to shuffle their feet and cross their arms. “So Edward had no part in this?”

  Leo kicked at a tuft of grass. “No, not specifically. He might have asked us to keep an eye on you.”

  “But that was earlier before we even left the house,” Lawrence said.

  “And getting you away from Islington was our idea,” Leo continued. “Ned was busy and we knew he would approve.”

  Claire cleared her throat. “Yes, I daresay he would.” Linking her arms once again with theirs, she encouraged them to resume their stroll. “So, gentlemen. Your el
dest brother wants you to keep an eye on me, does he?”

  They both nodded, but remained quiet.

  “Well then, what would you say to being able to keep an even closer eye on me? I have an idea and it requires your particular assistance.”

  Knowing she’d sparked their interest, she explained further while the three of them walked on.

  Chapter 16

  “What else, Mr Hughes?” Edward asked nearly a week later, as he sat behind his desk at Clybourne House. Laying down his pen, he held out the correspondence he’d just finished signing.

  His secretary took the letters in hand. “There is only the issue of appointing a new steward at Rexhill Lodge. Have I your permission to begin interviewing likely candidates for your consideration?”

  He and Mr Hughes had previously discussed the need to replace the elderly steward of Edward’s Norfolk estate. Once the loyal old retainer had agreed to take a generous pension and retire, the way had been paved to search for his replacement. “Yes, of course, see to it with all due haste. Is that everything for today, then?”

  “It is, Your Grace.” Bowing, the young man withdrew, off to work at his own desk located in a room two doors down the hall.

  Once he’d departed, Edward leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting to the place, or rather the person, with whom they seemed constantly occupied these days.

  Claire.

  After barely touching her breakfast this morning, she’d complained that she wasn’t feeling well and had asked to be excused from that afternoon’s engagements. Immediately concerned, Mallory and Cousin Wilhelmina said she must of course stay home, and Edward agreed. She’d urged the ladies to go on without her, saying she would only be in bed sleeping, so there was no point in them remaining behind and missing out on their planned entertainment.

  Not long after his sister and cousin left the house, he’d checked on Claire and was informed by her maid that she was resting comfortably and had asked not to be disturbed. Honouring her wishes, he’d gone downstairs to his study to work.