An Unlikely Duchess Page 10

  “I apologised about the hens. Profusely. I really think it is time people let it rest. And I did not steal the cart. I borrowed it for a while and returned it. Almost in one piece!”

  “And the trough?”

  She sighed resignedly. “Yes, I fell in the trough. But I did not remember it was there!”

  They both laughed, she in remembrance and he because he could picture it perfectly.

  “I shall take my leave of you, then,” Rebecca eventually broke the companionable silence. She was far too comfortable with him. Enjoying his company too much.

  “Nonsense. I shall walk back with you.”

  “But your horse, your grace,” she protested though secretly she thrilled at the idea of being alone with him for a little longer.

  “My horse will walk too, I do not plan on carrying him,” he quipped.

  “Very well,” she smiled and they set off on their way.

  They walked some distance before his curiosity got the better of him.

  “Mr. Simons sounds like an interesting character.”

  Rebecca glanced at him briefly before answering in a carefully smooth tone. “‘Interesting’ is an interesting way of putting it.”

  “Are you well acquainted with the gentleman?”

  “Not very. I met him when Papa came to meet him.”

  “And not since?”

  She hesitated and seemed on the verge of saying something but then changed her mind and answered quietly, “No, not since.”

  Hmm. Something was definitely going on here.

  Edward did not want to pry but he felt desperate to know just what her relationship with this man was.

  He needed to be subtle, to gently coax the information from her, to make her feel secure so that she would trust him.

  “I thought when I saw him in the woods that you and he had been having an assignation.”

  Or, he could blurt it out bluntly as if he had no control over himself. Which he clearly didn’t.

  Rebecca stopped so fast that he yanked her forward before he had realised. She pulled her arm from the crook of his and stood glaring up at him.

  Oh dear.

  “You thought what?” She was angry again. This was not going to end well. He cursed himself and his jealous stupidity. They’d enjoyed a wonderful morning in each other’s company and he’d ruined it because he could not shake the damned image of her in another man’s arms.

  “Rebecca–” he started.

  “Lady Rebecca” she ground out.

  “My lady,” he amended, thinking it safer not to use her name at all at this present moment, “I am deeply sorry, I do not know what came over me to suggest such a thing.”

  He should have known. He did know that it could not be true. He was usually so logical, thought things through so well. She had him tied in bloody knots! He hadn’t been able to think straight since he’d first seen her sprinting through the trees.

  “How dare you say such a thing to me? How could you think that of me?”

  Oh God were those tears? Edward did not like crying women. They were frightening and unpredictable and he endeavoured to stay as far away from them as humanly possible.

  Strange then that the sight of Lady Rebecca’s tears, rather than repulsing him made him want to draw closer and offer any comfort that he could. He felt like an absolute cad.

  “I am sorry. I do not think — that is to say — I may have thought for a mere moment — he mentioned you, you see so I—”

  “What do you mean he mentioned me?”

  Now she looked terrified as well as upset. What the hell was going on here? The tears still glistened in her huge eyes. If one, just one, fell it would be his undoing.

  “He said that you did not wish to be interrupted,” he answered miserably. This could not have gone worse. He should have stayed quiet.

  “Your grace,” she at least seemed less angry with him now.

  “Edward,” he interrupted.

  “Pardon?”

  “Call me Edward.”

  He watched fascinated as a fierce blush stained her cheeks.

  “I could not possibly, your grace.”

  “‘Your grace’ is far too formal. You forget I now know the secrets of your youth. We are much better acquainted than ‘your grace’ and ‘my lady’ are we not?”

  He realised as he spoke that the words could have more than one meaning. Rebecca obviously realised too since her blush went from pink to puce.

  “It would not be proper.”

  Probably not the best time to remind her that as a rule, proper young ladies did not show off body parts whilst hanging from walls and statues.

  Of course, proper gentlemen did not pounce on unsuspecting ladies on darkened balconies either.

  “Then at least call me Hartridge. All my friends do.”

  She smiled at this and he was relieved to see that the tears seem to have receded for now.

  “And are we friends, Hartridge?”

  Never had his surname sounded so good.

  “I hope that we are, Rebecca?” He said her name like a question, not willing to break the tenuous peace that had descended upon them once more.

  She smiled again, wider this time and he felt that the storm had passed.

  He was loath to continue their conversation when it was so obviously distressing to her. However, now he needed to know what exactly was going on.

  “So the gentleman,” he tried once more, “Mr. Simons. He had not seen you before he said you did not want to be interrupted?”

  She heaved a sigh of resignation and started to walk again, leaving him to catch up.

  “We spoke briefly” —odd that she would deny it originally— “he was – very forward. I did not like it.”

  Rebecca missed the murderous expression that came over his features at her admittance. She decided that she might as well tell him the whole truth. It would be nice to unburden herself in any event.

  “He made me uncomfortable. And when I tried to leave, he took hold of my arm and would not let me go. I told him–”

  Before she knew it, Hartridge had turned on his heel and began marching back the way they had come.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in surprise.

  “I am going to kill him,” he answered conversationally, as if they were chatting about the weather.

  “What? Do not be ridiculous. Come back here.” Her commanding tone brought him to a halt, if only because never in his life had someone commanded anything of him.

  He turned back to face her.

  “Please, do not do or say anything about this. It really is of no matter. I shan’t be seeing him again for quite some time.”

  He briefly wondered how she could be so sure but was too furious to think long on anything except getting his hands on the man.

  “I cannot just stand here and do nothing when he has treated you so abominably. It is not to be borne, Rebecca. I will kill him with my bare hands.”

  Rebecca’s heart was in her mouth. He looked absolutely terrifying. She could not imagine that any man, any person would ever want to cross him. He looked like an avenging angel— beautiful, dark and angrier than she had ever seen a person.

  “Please,” she tried again, placing a restraining hand on his arm. He was trembling with fury. Goodness, it really wasn’t that bad!

  “Please, you must calm down. Truly it is not as bad as all that. As you can see, I am unharmed. He let me go almost as soon as he grabbed me. It will be worse for me if you do anything, can you not see that?”

  “No, I cannot! You did nothing wrong.”

  “Your grace, Hartridge. My mother really does not need to hear another story of my being mixed up in something — unsavoury. She will not care whether it was my fault or not! Please.”

  Rebecca sounded so distressed that Edward was torn. How could he justifiably let this incident go without action or comment? At the very least he must tell her father. But she looked so distressed and was begging him. And touc
hing him.

  So, against his better judgement and mostly because she was still touching him, he conceded.

  “Very well. Though it gives me no pleasure, I will keep it secret. But” —he clasped her shoulders and stared down into her eyes— “you must promise me that you will not travel out alone and that you will tell someone immediately if he so much as looks at you. Do you understand me?”

  He was serious. Rebecca could tell. And she was so grateful to him she would have agreed to just about anything. Besides, she’d already decided not to walk alone in the future. And she may yet tell Papa. But she did not want to think about that right now.

  “I promise,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

  They gazed at each other and once again that unmistakeable crackle seemed to build. Both were aware of it and both were powerless to stop it.

  If he kissed her now Rebecca would not object, though she should. She trembled in anticipation. The truth was, she had been longing to feel his kiss since last night.

  Edward stared at her, that strange mix of lust and protectiveness swirling around him. He could kiss her now and knew he would be lost, knew that she would not stop him. His whole body screamed at him to take her into his arms. And yet…

  She’d been through a frightening ordeal with that damned Mr. Simons. He would not take advantage of her, or scare her even more with the power of his desire for her. He knew that she was not scared of him, but to add to her uncertainty now, after all that had happened this morning? His conscience would not allow it, though the rest of him was doing the utmost to shut his conscience up.

  He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss gently on her forehead. He should be sainted! Then, without another word, he gathered the reigns of the horse, offered her his arm and they set off toward the house.

  Was that it? Rebecca frowned in consternation as she took his proffered arm and began walking back. A kiss on her head? Her head? She’d been certain that he’d been about to kiss her. Really kiss her, not a brotherly peck on her head. Did he not want to kiss her? Had he not enjoyed their last kiss? She felt sure that he’d been as affected as she, but perhaps not?

  Or maybe it was this nasty business with Mr. Simons. Perhaps he thought that Rebecca was somehow to blame? That she had encouraged that man’s advances? Or that she went around kissing men the way she had kissed him last night?

  The thought was depressing. Well, if he was to judge her based on her behaviour with him he was a hypocrite! Of course, it did not help matters that she’d as good as told him that she went around kissing men.

  But he was hardly an innocent. Even a peck on the forehead was enough to turn her to a quivering wreck. And she was quite sure that being a handsome young duke lent him a lot of sway with ladies. Why, he’d almost had an apoplexy when she implied he wasn’t a very good kisser! That meant that he had experience, coming out his ears most likely.

  How dare he stand in judgement of her when his behaviour was doubtless a thousand times worse?

  On and on went her thoughts, while her temper rose higher and higher. And so it was that by the time they reached the house, he had put her into a towering rage without uttering a single word.

  The house loomed into view and Edward turned toward the stables. Rebecca removed her arm from his, quite forcibly he thought, and began to stomp off in the opposite direction.

  “Rebecca?” What the devil was going on now?

  “What?” she shouted back over her shoulder.

  “Where are you going?”

  She spun round as if he had given her the most heinous insult and marched back over to him.

  “Do not worry yourself, your grace.”

  They were back to ‘your grace’?

  “I am going to my room. I will not be doing anything that your virtuous self could find fault with.”

  What in God’s name? She was angry that much was clear. And though he would never claim to have a handle on the female psyche, he had to admit that this sudden outburst seemed more irrational than usual. They literally had not spoken since their conversation about Mr. Simons. It was impossible for him to have done anything to warrant this! He suddenly felt his own anger rising to meet hers.

  He’d bloody well been the perfect gentleman. Sacrificed his own wants to do what was best for the little shrew and this was his reward? To have her shout at him? It was the outside of enough.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Do not shout at me.”

  “I am not shouting,” he shouted.

  She raised a disdainful eyebrow and the last of his control slipped. This bloody woman had been driving him slowly mad since he arrived here.

  “I always suspected that females were quite mad. I am sure I’ve never yet met a one who could compare to you, however.”

  “Oh I am well aware of your low opinion of me, you being such a paragon of virtue.”

  What? His head was beginning to thump. They were very close to the house now and he was aware that at any moment someone might happen upon them arguing in public like a pair of children. But he did not care a jot.

  “My low opinion of you? What the blazes are you talking about?”

  “I am talking about you—”

  Did she just poke him?

  “Thinking you are so perfect—”

  Ouch. That hurt!

  “Thinking you can look down on us mere mortals who fall so short of your God-like expectations.”

  If she poked him again she would leave a mark for Christ’s sake. He already had a lump from when she’d belted him the night before!

  “Madam. Will you desist from poking me?” he bellowed.

  His roar seemed to bring her up short and she stepped back from him, though her fists were still clenched and her breathing heavy.

  She was beautiful when she was angry. But that was of no matter.

  “Now. You will explain what it is you are talking about.”

  “Don’t you dare presume to tell me what to do.”

  He’d never felt so exasperated in his life! He wanted to tear his hair out, or hit something, or kiss her senseless.

  “What are you talking about?” That was louder than he intended and echoed around the open grounds surrounding them.

  “You! You and your pious judgement of me. You obviously think I encouraged that horrible Mr. Simons or else why would you not want to kiss me?”

  Rebecca threw her hands to her mouth as soon as the words left her mouth, as if she wished she could hold them in. It was too late of course. They’d already been spoken.

  He looked at her incredulously. Could she really think that? And there he’d been, patting himself on the back for treating her so well. The mind truly did boggle. He could not bloody win.

  “Want to kiss you?” he ground out angrily. “I’ve been slowly expiring trying to keep my damned hands off you.”

  “Why?” she asked mutinously.

  “Because I am trying to be a gentleman!” he yelled once again.

  Granted, it was not the most gentlemanly behaviour, to be roaring at her in the middle of her own garden. But the chit was really beyond exasperating.

  “Nobody asked you to be a gentleman.”

  God she was a stubborn little miss.

  “So you would prefer I ruin you, is that it? And what will you tell your sister then, hmm?”

  Her face paled and he knew he’d gone too far, yet something kept him going, spurred him on to say more. Perhaps if he hurt her, pushed her away, she would do what he could not and break the bond that was forming between them.

  “Or has this been your plan all along? Ensnare the duke meant for your sister? Do one better than she? Finally be something more than a disappointment to your family?”

  He was cut short by the sting of her small hand connecting with his cheek.

  Rebecca looked horrified by her behaviour and stumbled back.

  Her eyes were huge and filled with hurt. Tears brimmed then began to descend freely do
wn her cheeks.

  He knew he’d done it then. Pushed her away. But instead of feeling satisfied, he felt an acute pain that he’d never felt before and all at once he regretted what he’d said.

  He stepped forward and made to reach for her, to apologise to ease her hurt.

  But she pulled away from him with a little cry of despair. Shaking her head she turned on her heel and ran toward the house.

  Edward made to follow her but stopped himself after a couple of steps. Follow her? What for? What was there to say or do?

  He would be gone from here in less than twenty-four hours. And spending a pleasant morning with her, though it was one of the happiest he’d had in years, did not change the fact that they were completely unsuited. Why then, did it feel like he’d made a colossal mistake?

  He did not know how long he stood for, staring after her, contemplating the futility of wanting her. Finally, when the horse became anxious, he turned and trudged toward the stables, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  ****

  The dowager, who had watched the highly entertaining exchange from her vantage point at the dining room window, shook her head and lifted her coffee cup in a silent salute to the lady as she watched her slap her stubborn, rigid son.

  No doubt he deserved it!

  Of course, she had no idea what the fight was about, but to see Edward lose his control, for even a moment, was a miracle worth saluting.

  Lady Catherine remembered with fondness how utterly exasperating she had found her late husband. And the passion with which they’d loved each other.

  She needed to get to know the force of nature that was Lady Rebecca. See what it was that her son was clearly falling for. The stories she’d heard from her abigail made her a little nervous. The child was bordering on scandalous. Well, there’d never be a dull moment.

  Her thoughts turned to the Carringtons and to Lady Caroline. She felt sure that young lady’s heart was not involved but it was a situation that would require delicate handling. She frowned as she watched her son stomp off in the opposite direction, looking like thunder.