The truth was he knew full well she did not need an escort from one end of a garden to another. But for reasons unknown to him and best left unanalysed, he found himself reluctant to let her go.
He planned to leave at first light tomorrow. Originally he had wanted to be gone today but on reflection it did not seem fair to pay such a disservice to Ranford and his family, he was sure his refusal to marry Lady Caroline would be insult enough without him sneaking off into the night.
No, he would leave first thing tomorrow and as such he knew it unlikely that he would see this lady again, at least not for a while. When she did eventually turn up in Town for a Season he would have himself well under control and would be able to witness the parade of men vying for her affection with equanimity. He would.
“Your grace?”
Her soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“Are you quite well?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“You looked as though you might murder someone just now. And since I am the only person in the vicinity, I wondered if I should fear for my life.”
She really was entirely too outspoken.
He decided to ignore her.
“Shall we?” He extended his arm.
“You haven’t been invited.”
“I will escort you to the door and then take my leave.”
“You cannot.”
“Why not?”
“Because. You will frighten the poor woman to death, that is why!”
Well, that was just rude. “I beg your pardon?”
“You will scare her, your grace. She is not used to having people like you on her doorstep.”
“People like me?”
“Yes. People like you. You are too rich, too titled, too — too big.”
Too big? “This from the daughter of an earl?”
“That is different. I grew up here, I’ve known Mrs. O’Dwyer and all the tenants since childhood. They like me.”
“Are you implying that they will not like me?” he demanded, feeling terribly affronted.
Rebecca raised an eyebrow at his tone. What a brat! She would appease him then get rid of him.
“I am sure they would think you all that is charming, your grace. However, since you are not escorting me, it is hardly relevant, is it?”
“I am escorting you.”
“No. You are not.”
They stood glaring at each other for several moments. Her with her hands placed firmly at her hips and shooting daggers, him with such a look of smug superiority she wanted to smack him.
“My lady.”
Their standoff came to a halt with the appearance of Martin.
“Mam says you must bring the gentleman with you before you both grow roots.”
“Ha! There you have it. I am invited.”
Rebecca could only shake her head and wonder at his delight in being invited into a country cottage. He who had graced the halls of royal families and fellow peers all over Europe. His delight came, she was sure, from besting her and not for any real desire to spend time with the O’Dwyers.
She hoped that he would treat them as equals and with respect. She had a genuine friendship with this family and would allow nobody to be rude to them.
He extended his arm, grinning triumphantly. Rebecca felt the breath catch in her throat. He was really almost unbearably handsome.
They began to walk further along the path to the gate leading into Mrs. O’Dwyer’s garden.
What would it be like to be married to him? Have him belong to her and her alone? Spend every day with him. And every night, she thought wickedly.
“Are you well, Rebecca? You seem rather flushed.” He sounded amused and she blushed even more fiercely. Damn the man! She could not be married to him! She’d murder him within twenty-four hours!
“I am quite well, your grace. Though apparently I am suffering an affliction of memory loss since I do not remember giving you permission to use my name.”
He gave a shout of laughter at this.
“You really are quite the shrew aren’t you? But you are right, you have not given me leave to use your name. I had thought, however, that we had come to know each other well enough to forgo the formalities. After all, a lady should at the very least be on a first name basis with the man who gave her her first kiss, should she not?”
Rebecca blushed to the roots of her hair and pulled her arm from him. He was an arrogant, odious brute. How could he speak of that in such a casual manner? And mock her about it to boot?
Well, she would put him firmly in his place once and for all. How could she have dreamt of marrying such a creature? Her husband would be the complete opposite of him— humble and kind and not so overwhelming that she could not think straight when he was near.
Rather than slap him or stomp off, which she was very tempted to do, Rebecca looked steadily into his eyes with what she hoped was a patronizing expression on her face.
“My first kiss, your grace? How sweet that you should think so. You are quite mistaken I am afraid. But do not worry yourself, you did very well.” She patted his arm reassuringly and turned to continue up the path. Let him stew on that for a while! It had been her first kiss, but he did not need to know that and his pride could stand to be a little dented.
Edward stood encased in a burning fury as she stalked off up the garden path, her pretty little nose stuck in the air.
Rage coursed through him, making him think he was going quite mad. He’d been enjoying embarrassing her, knew that she must yearn for his kiss again as he yearned for hers. Had thought to curb some of that impertinence that seemed to come so naturally to her.
Now, however, he found himself bested by her. Eaten up with a jealous rage the likes of which he’d never felt before. Who the hell had she been kissing? How dare she go around kissing everyone!
And to imply that he had somehow failed to impress? Well, he thought huffily, that at least could not be true. He prided himself on his seduction techniques. Was really quite famous for them. He just hadn’t been trying with her that is all.
He knew he was behaving like a slighted debutante and angrily clamped down on his roaming and ridiculous thoughts.
It was of no matter. It did not mean anything anyway. But he knew she was just as affected by their kiss, by his proximity as he was hers.
He slowly followed her and thought back to last night. He believed she was bluffing. Her kiss might have set him on fire but it had been the kiss of an innocent and if her initial hesitancy did not tell him that, the look of shock afterwards would have done.
No, she was most definitely bluffing. She had been kissed by none but him.
And he was an excellent kisser.
Feeling mollified, he increased his pace to catch up to her. She was captivating. He found his eyes once more drawn to the sway of her hips, the exposed skin of her neck. He wondered if her skin there was as silky soft as the skin of her shoulders. He longed to find out. But knew that he could not.
How he had controlled himself when he was assisting her off that wall he would never know. He was stronger than he thought but his control was within an inch of snapping. Her back pressed against his front was an exquisite torture he would never forget.
She had smelled divine, her glorious hair had been hidden by her bonnet but the scent of lemon still tingled his nostrils. He made a mental note to have buckets of lemons all over his homes.
He’d been about to kiss her again when the lad had interrupted them. And she had been willing. This could not go on! The sooner he returned to England and away from temptation, the better.
He had intended to ride straight back and speak to the earl immediately. But the idea of spending more time in the company of the delectable Lady Rebecca was a temptation he could not refuse.
He caught up to her just before she entered the cottage. The smell of freshly baked biscuits floated on the summer breeze and Edward suddenly regretted the tantrum that h
ad seen him leave his breakfast untouched.
He bowed slightly to allow her to pass him and enter the cottage but rather than move, Rebecca placed her hand gently on his arm. His eyes snapped to hers at the touch. She was gazing pleadingly at him with those blasted eyes once again and he felt his control slipping.
No wonder she was spoiled. How was anyone to refuse her anything when she looked at them like that? Likely the lady had the whole of Offaly firmly wrapped around her tiny finger.
“Your grace,” Rebecca spoke quietly, obviously not wanting to be overheard.
“What is it Rebecca?” He had purposely used her given name again but she was obviously too distracted to notice.
She began to worry her bottom lip just like last night and Edward could not stifle a groan of longing. Did she know what she did to him?
Probably not. Which made it all the more tempting.
“My lady, what is it that you want from me? You only need ask.” He spoke hoarsely, his voice belying his desperation. If she did not speak or move soon she would find herself thoroughly compromised, right here on the doorstep of this workman’s cottage.
“These people, the O’Dwyers, they’re my friends. I have the utmost respect and affection for them.” She paused and Edward wondered why he was telling him this. It was clear from her interaction with the boy that there was a longstanding friendship between the family and her.
“Although I am of noble birth, Mr. Mrs. O’Dwyer have known me since I was a babe and therefore, feel entirely comfortable and able to be themselves around me. I am — that is, I would appreciate if you did not act terribly — er — dukey around them.”
“Dukey?”
“Yes.”
“Is that a word?”
She huffed out a sigh and glared at him.
“Just do not be yourself.”
Lovely. “Then who should I be?” he asked mildly.
“Oh never mind,” she spat then brushed by him.
He wondered idly how many moods she actually possessed, since he’d witnessed about seven since his arrival.
If Rebecca had but waited a moment, he would have reassured her to the absolute best of his ability. A duke he may be, but he knew and spent time with all of his tenants, particularly at his main seat, and had spent hundreds of happy hours with those excellent families in his youth.
Well, she would see for herself shortly, he thought as he entered the home. Maybe he’d surprise her.
CHAPTER NINE
The cottage was as warm and comforting as ever and Rebecca felt herself relax as she was embraced in a warm hug.
Mrs. O’Dwyer was like a beloved aunt to her and Rebecca made herself right at home, sitting herself at the much-used, well-scrubbed kitchen table. No standing on ceremony here! If the duke did not like it, well he could leave!
She eyed him sceptically, wondering when he’d sneer at his surroundings and take his leave and hoped he would not upset her friends.
Mrs. O’Dwyer turned to face the almighty duke and nearly fell over herself curtsying to him. Rebecca rolled her eyes. The older lady had never fawned over the earl that way!
Mrs. O’Dwyer, being a hardworking soul all her life, was getting on in years and her muscles and bones were not what they used to be. Edward waited while she struggled back out of her curtsy, panting as she went.
The children stood behind Lady Rebecca’s stool eyeing him suspiciously while the lady herself looked disdainfully at him as if she expected him to start abusing the woman still half prostrate in front of him.
He glanced quickly around the large room while the old dear gripped a chair to straighten. He did not think she’d appreciate his assistance and would probably have a fit if he touched her.
The room put him in mind of the cottages he frequented as a child. Homey and warm, and thoroughly welcoming. It made him pang for his childhood when his father had been in charge and Edward had been free to do as he pleased.
It had been too long since he’d spent any real time with his tenants, something he would rectify soon.
“Your grace,” Mrs. O’Dwyer finally wheezed, “we are truly honoured to have you here. Please, come through to the drawing room, Lady Rebecca should not have brought you in the back way.” Her tone was ever so slightly accusatory and Rebecca snorted. Most unladylike.
“My dear Mrs. O’Dwyer,” he began making every effort to put the good lady at ease and show the madam sitting at the table that he wasn’t the snob she expected him to be, “I am sure you have an excellent drawing room but this kitchen puts me in mind of the cottages I spent a very happy childhood in on my father’s estates. I would just as well stay here and enjoy the wonderful smells coming from the hob.”
Mrs. O’Dwyer’s face reddened with pleasure and Rebecca thought the poor woman would literally burst with pride. She was quietly impressed with the duke. He had been all ease and politeness with not a trace of arrogance or superiority. She was grateful to him.
He took a seat on the stool next to hers and his thigh brushed against her as he settled himself. She felt the impact all the way to her toes. Surely this did not happen to everyone? If it did, husbands and wives would stay locked away forever, never entering society.
Not liking where her thoughts were going she turned instead to ask Martin how his reading and writing practice was coming along while Mrs. O’Dwyer bustled about preparing tea things.
They spent a very merry couple of hours with the O’Dwyers until Rebecca decided that they must, albeit regretfully, take their leave.
The smile she turned on Edward was both warm and genuine and it warmed his heart to see her look at him so. He could not remember when he last had such an enjoyable morning. He had chatted with Lady Rebecca and Mrs. O’Dwyer, silently listened while they discussed the local gossip and partook of Mrs .O’Dwyer’s truly excellent culinary offerings.
Watching the pair of them, it was obvious that Rebecca was truly adored by this family, and from listening to the many enquiries after her health that locals had made, it seemed she was equally adored by all of the tenants and local merchants. He wasn’t surprised. She was adorable.
He had played tea with Annie, the daughter of the family, much to Rebecca’s amusement, and had watched as Martin soldiered through his letters and numbers with Lady Rebecca encouraging and coaxing him along the way.
He had been struck suddenly by an image of her as a mother and knew she would be a wonderful one. Would she have girls, just like her? Incorrigible little pixies that would drive their father up the wall? The thought made him smile. He wasn’t sure the world was ready for any more Rebeccas!
Truly it had been a wonderful morning. The only blip had been when he had mentioned the strange gentleman he’d come across in the woods. Lady Rebecca had paled at the mention of him and Edward had wondered if she’d been meeting him for an assignation. Perhaps she had been telling the truth about being an experienced kisser?
The thought cut through him like a knife. He was surprised and worried to find that alongside the jealousy, which to be fair he’d been experiencing so much of at this stage it was becoming second nature, there was an overwhelming feeling of despair. Not wanting to look too closely at such an emotion or the cause of it, he ignored it completely.
But her countenance had not been that of someone with a pleasant secret, she had looked afraid. Terrified even. Why would she be so frightened by the mere mention of that man?
Mrs. O’Dwyer’s chat interrupted his thoughts.
“That one, your grace? Oh he is bad news. Very bad news. Not at all liked amongst the townsfolk and with good reason. Does nothing but drink and gamble and other activities I will not mention in front of her ladyship. His uncle will be turning in his grave, God rest his soul.”
Edward wasn’t altogether surprised to learn that Mr. Simons was an unsavoury character, he had thought as much on meeting him.
But Rebecca’s reaction piqued his curiosity and his concern. He would be sure to question her l
ater. But he had put it from his mind and continued to thoroughly enjoy the visit.
****
Rebecca said her goodbyes and took the duke’s arm as they made their way back toward the woods. She had enjoyed her visit, as usual, but her mind was filled with the man beside her. How surprised she’d been by his manner! There had not been a trace of the arrogant man she’d seen earlier. He’d been completely at ease in the humble cottage and had chatted with Mrs. O’Dwyer and the children as if he’d known them his whole life.
He’d laughed a lot too, and she could not help but notice how devastatingly handsome he was when he laughed. He seemed younger somehow. He’d been kind, attentive, amusing and unfailingly respectful. It was terrible!
If he’d been rude or arrogant it would have been much better for her heart. As it was, that traitorous organ was in great danger of slipping out of her possession and landing firmly in his. But this was impossible! She’d known him but two days. You could not go hurtling head over heels into love with someone after two days. Could you?
They’d reached the duke’s horse in total silence, Rebecca’s mind filled with the confusing thoughts that kept circling round in there.
She finally noticed that they’d come to a stop and looked up, blinking as if waking from a trance.
“Well,” she said jovially, wanting to escape him for a while to try to sort through the muddle of emotions she was feeling, “that was very enjoyable. Thank you, your grace.”
“Thank you?”
“Yes, for being so – well – normal.”
He smiled indulgently.
“You really do not have a good opinion of me, do you?”
“Oh I do,” she replied emphatically. “Now.”
He chuckled softly. “Well I am glad to hear it. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”
“Truly?”
“Oh yes. I particularly enjoyed the tales of your escapades.”
She had the grace to blush slightly.
“There was a lot of exaggeration, your grace.”
“Was there indeed? So you did not set Mr. O’Dwyer’s hens loose? Or steal a horse and cart? Or land yourself upside down in the trough in the town square?” he asked with a wide grin. He hadn’t been the least bit surprised to hear of her adventures. He did not think anything would surprise him about the lady.
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