The Scandalous Secret 0f The Tempting Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

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The Scandalous Secret 0f The Tempting Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 9

by Scarlett Osborne


  He was still skirting around the idea of joining in a partnership with the Viscount but the more he spoke with him, the more he saw how lucrative an idea it was. He found himself truly exploring it and ended up actually sharing a few laughs with the Viscount.

  Lady Roburg’s odd behavior remained at the back of his mind however, and the more he spoke with her husband, the more his curiosity grew. What was she talking about before the Viscount walked in? One of her daughters perhaps?

  As if the Viscount heard his thoughts, he coughed and said, “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I have to check on something. Will you give me a moment?”

  “Of course.” Timothy was glad for the break. He could use the time to think about Miss Jones, something he found himself growing a little obsessed with as time went by.

  “Feel free to wander the manor until I’m finished,” the Viscount suggested as he got to his feet. Timothy rose with him. “You can take a stroll through the gardens. I’ll have one of the maids take you there.”

  “How kind of you, My Lord.” Timothy offered him a polite smile as they both made their way to the parlor doors. No one stood on the other side and no matter how he strained his ears, he couldn’t hear the happy cries of a child. If he didn’t know any better, he would think Lord Roburg was the only person residing here.

  “Are your daughters not home, My Lord?” Timothy asked, hoping he wasn’t overstepping his boundaries. “It’s quite quiet here.”

  “Oh, both are here, although I have no idea where either of them are. They are always busy with something.”

  Timothy’s heart thumped at the thought of spotting Miss Matilda Jones somewhere around. The Viscount didn’t linger long after that, giving him an apologetic smile then heading down the hallway in the direction of the front doors. Timothy wondered if he was going to see Lady Roburg.

  Timothy turned and drew to a halt when he saw the maid standing in his way. She gave him a small polite smile and gestured with her hand. Dutifully, she took off in the opposite direction of the Viscount.

  Should I ask? I probably shouldn’t.

  The question was right on the tip of his tongue, but before he could say anything, she stopped as they arrived at a set of large double doors and said. “The gardens, Your Grace.”

  Timothy was going to ask her. The words nearly left his lips but when he glanced through the window, he paused. He didn’t know what possessed him to look, but now he knew it had to be fate. Or perhaps it was a connection forming between them, one that allowed him to know when she was around. He couldn’t explain it, but the moment he laid eyes on Miss Matilda Jones through the window, he didn’t care to.

  He barely nodded at the maid, keeping his eyes on her. She was on her knees, hands covered with a pair of large brown work gloves and they were digging deep into the earth. Timothy drew closer, stepping out into the sunlight to watch her.

  She didn’t notice him. She was concentrating wholly on her task, molding the fresh earth around the hole she’d just made. Sweat ran down the side of her face and she wiped at it with her forearm, never breaking rhythm. Her beautiful curls were tied away from her face but a few unruly locks fell over her forehead. He could tell by the way she kept furrowing her brow that it was bothering her, but her hands were too occupied to tuck it away.

  “Goodness.” There were a few other maids around, helping with the gardening, and all noticed him the moment he approached but her.

  She looked up at the sound and when her eyes landed on him, they went wide. She shot to her feet. “Your Grace! What are you doing here?”

  “No need to stop on my account,” he told her, using that as an opportunity to come closer. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” she said and though she had delicately folded her dirt-crusted hands before her, her tone held a bite to it. Miss Jones looked at the other gardeners and inclined her head gently, indicating that they should leave them for a while. They complied instantly. She settled her eyes on him. “What are you doing here, Your Grace?”

  Timothy frowned.

  Is it me, or does it sound like she already deduced why I’m here?

  “Your father and I had more discussions to take care of, but he had to take care of something. He left me to roam the manor while he’s gone.”

  “That’s very trusting of him. My father’s never done that before.”

  “Perhaps there’s something about me that he likes.”

  “Hm.” There was a coldness coming from her, a distance that hadn’t been there before. Despite the fact that all he had to do was reach out to touch her, it felt like she was worlds away. “You must forgive me, Your Grace. I was not expecting your arrival. I would have ensured that I was proper.”

  “There’s no need to make yourself uncomfortable for me,” he said quickly, “and please, call me Timothy.”

  “Your Grace?”

  “Also, I’m happy I saw you. May we go for a walk?”

  She hesitated. He saw it in her eyes and he feared for a moment that she’d act on it. It wouldn’t take much effort to decline, or come up with an excuse as to why that wouldn’t be possible right now. But then she nodded, though her beautiful smile was woefully absent.

  “We may,” she said stiffly. “Merelda?” A maid rushed out to them as she tugged her gloves off, revealing her soft, unmarred hands underneath. She tucked them into the pockets of her apron, turned, and began walking.

  Timothy stared after her for a few seconds before he realized he should be following. He forgot about Merelda chaperoning them quickly enough. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping my boundaries, Miss Jones, but are you uncomfortable with me being here?”

  She waited a few seconds before she responded. “Uncomfortable is one thing I’m feeling, yes.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “You know why. After our last encounter, there would be no other reason, would there?”

  He flushed at that. He had thought it to be an exciting, albeit bold memory, but clearly she didn’t think the same. “That was what I wanted to speak to you about. I would like to apologize. My behavior was uncouth.”

  “Uncouth?”

  “Yes. Ill-mannered. Uncivilized.”

  “How about rakish? Or perhaps reckless.”

  His embarrassed blush deepened. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Well, Your Gr—Timothy, I have something to say to you too.” His name on her lips brought him more pleasure than he had expected. The sound of it washed over him, and suddenly, it felt as if he could breathe easier—as if he had been unknowingly burdened by the formalities that did nothing but put a rift between them.

  They arrived at a gazebo and Timothy was instantly brought back that night. She sat, smoothing down her skirt. Timothy thought it best he maintain a safe distance from her. Who knew what thoughts might go running through his head when he caught a whiff of her tantalizing scent? “I suppose you can call me rakish too.”

  Timothy blinked. He didn’t expect that. “Pardon?”

  “Ill-mannered. Uncivilized.” Her lips twitched. “Uncouth. All that you mentioned. Because, to be completely honest with you, I too wanted the same thing you did that night.”

  “I thought I made you uncomfortable?”

  “Yes, you do. Because when I look at you, I think of how easy it was for me to throw away proper etiquette. I shouldn’t have allowed it to get that far.”

  Timothy couldn’t help the laugh that blurted out. She frowned slightly at him. “Look at us. Fighting to see who can apologize better.”

  She smiled at that. “I just wanted to let you know that you aren’t the only one in the wrong for that night. We may not have done anything but we almost did.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Why?” She looked away. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s easier to be honest than to pretend nothing happened.”

  Unable to help himself, he sank to her side. She didn’t stiffen
or move away. She only leveled her gaze on him.

  There weren’t many ladies who would say such things to him. He was in awe of her, of her beauty, of her boldness. Of the way she said things so matter-of-factly with no remorse. He could sense her next words, and though he knew they would be meant to push him away, he was drawn to her. “It was a lovely night,” he said before she could continue. “The stroll through the garden made it better.”

  “Your Grace—”

  “Timothy.”

  She folded her lips a little but conceded. “Timothy. It was improper.”

  “But I can’t bring myself to regret it.” He stared into her eyes, wanting her to see the seriousness of his words. She didn’t look away. “Do you not plan to be courted, Miss Jones?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? Is it because of your reputation? Because there is nary a gentleman out there who would care about that once they get to know you.”

  “Many don’t care to get that far.”

  “And that is their loss. But I don’t intend to make the same mistake.”

  She blinked once, then twice, then rapidly as her brows dipped into a frown. “What are you trying to say?”

  He took her hand. It was soft, small. Perfect against his palm. He scooted closer yet again. “I’m not entirely sure. But I do know that being here with you makes me want to stay forever. I wonder, time and time again, what it would be like to kiss you.”

  He knew she was holding her breath, her lips slightly parted. All of a sudden, they were back to that night, heat rising between them. Timothy realized the exact moment he dropped all the cares in the world. He only wanted to feel her in his arms, to have her lips on his like it should have been that night.

  “Timothy…” His name was a murmur on her lips, stirring his loins. He brought himself close to her, until their faces were just inches apart. He waited, hoping she wouldn’t turn him away.

  “Yes, Matilda?”

  “I … we shouldn’t …”

  The uncertainty in her voice was all he needed to make his next move, sliding a hand around the nape of her neck. She gasped a little when he did, unable to tear her eyes away from his. “We can do whatever we want to do.”

  They both knew that wasn’t true. Timothy knew more than anyone else that he couldn’t do whatever he wanted. He was bound by old promises, ones he could hardly bring himself to care about at this moment. Right now, all he cared about was Matilda.

  It seemed she thought the same way. She licked her lips, an invitation if he ever saw one and this time, Timothy didn’t plan to let anything stop him.

  Her lips were as soft as he imagined them to be. They were tentative, still a little undecided, but when he deepened the kiss just a tad, all that fell away. She sagged under his touch, giving herself to the kiss, allowing herself to embrace the passion that was building between them. Timothy weaved his hand into her hair, pressing her close to his body as he gave into it. His feelings, his need, his longing for her. He poured the truth of his words into that kiss and she absorbed it all.

  A tiny cough graced the air and all too soon, the kiss was broken.

  Oh yes, we aren’t alone.

  As if she only just remembered that as well, Matilda got to her feet, a hand to her mouth. Timothy stood with her, afraid she would tell him how improper that was and that they shouldn’t do that ever again. Or worse, that they should never speak again. He didn’t think he could bear that.

  But instead, he saw her lips twitch a second before she covered her mouth with her hand. “I hope no one in my family saw us.”

  An answering smile spread across his face. “I doubt anyone will say anything if they did. Except the Viscount.”

  “Trust me. If my father saw us, you would not be standing here right now.” She took a step back and held a hand out to keep him from coming any closer. “I need some time. To … think. About what you said.”

  “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

  “But in the meantime, we can’t do that again. We shouldn’t.”

  Timothy nodded. “We shouldn’t.” He could agree for now.

  “I should go.” She couldn’t meet his eyes and she ducked her head a little as she stepped around him. She was about to walk away but then she paused to look back at him. “Also, you can call me Matilda. Miss Jones is a little too stuffy for my taste.”

  He couldn’t help his smile. “Matilda.”

  She offered him a shadow of her own smile before she turned and left. Timothy watched her go. He stared after her until she was out of sight, then he sank onto the bench, releasing a loud sigh. The Viscount was probably looking for him. He should go back in.

  He just hoped he’d be able to hide the fact that he was inordinately happy. The kiss was everything he had hoped for but even so, lingering need pooled in his stomach. She was right; he was reckless. Only a reckless person would kiss someone right after he insinuated he wanted to court her when he was bound to someone else.

  With a sigh, Timothy looked in the direction she left. There was no turning back now, he knew. After he got a taste of Matilda Jones, he wanted nothing – and no one – else.

  Chapter 12

  Oh, she couldn’t believe what she did. Matilda sighed softly, staring out the window of the drawing room as yesterday’s happenings replayed in her head. They kissed. They shouldn’t have done such a thing. After all the times she’d told herself that she would focus wholly on Elizabeth, that moment of weakness was a bad mistake.

  “Matilda!”

  Matilda jerked at Elizabeth’s squeal. Her sister rushed to her side and brought sunshine and the scent of roses in with her. It was always a pleasant surprise to see just how easily she could light up a room and seeing her made Matilda smile instantly. She was such a beautiful girl. So kind and pure. A wave of protectiveness washed her.

  “Is something wrong, Elizabeth?” she asked gently.

  “No, nothing’s wrong.” Matilda couldn’t tell if she was out of breath because she was so excited or because she had been running.

  Perhaps both?

  “I’m just so happy to see you. It feels like forever since we’ve last had a chance to speak.”

  “Funny, isn’t it? Since we live in the same house.”

  “I almost wondered if you were avoiding me…” Matilda’s heart thudded dangerously at the suggestion. She had been avoiding her, just like she’d been avoiding all serious thought of staying away from Timothy. Elizabeth’s smile widened. “But then I remembered you were feeling unwell. How are you? Are you still feeling under the weather?”

  “I’m feeling much better now, thank you for asking. And how are you, Elizabeth? Have you been enjoying yourself?”

  The light that shone in her eyes answered her question before Elizabeth could. “Oh, Matilda, I think I might be falling in love.”

  “Oh?” Intrigued now, Matilda faced her fully. “That’s awfully quick, Elizabeth. Are you sure about that?”

  “Oh, well, I’m not very sure. I think I’m falling in love but I have to see him again before I can be certain.”

  “And who’s the lucky gentleman?”

  “The Marquess of Berliey,” she gushed. “We danced nearly all night at the last ball and every time I spoke with him, I found him to be the kindest, most generous gentleman I’ve ever met. And he’s incredibly handsome too! Do you know him?”

  Matilda nodded. She knew him. He had been a potential match a few years ago. She was surprised to know he wasn’t married already. “He certainly is handsome if my memory serves. Has he called on you yet?”

  “No, he hasn’t.” Elizabeth pouted. “But he will soon, won’t he? Or perhaps he plans to make his intentions clear at the next ball. It will be the big annual Christmas ball so perhaps he’s waiting until then to make an announcement to Father?”

  “It would certainly be an interesting way of doing so.”

  “Don’t you think?” Elizabeth squealed again. “But I do believe he’s
the type of gentleman to do it. He has a lot of…”

  “Spirit?”

  “That’s one way to put it,” Elizabeth said with a giggle. She took Matilda’s hands in her own. “Please tell me you intend to come to the ball. Everyone will be there. It’s the biggest ball of the Season.”

  Matilda knew that as well. She remembered being in the same position as Elizabeth, eager to attend the Christmas ball. Picking out the perfect dress and ensuring she was on her p’s and q’s had become an enjoyable sport for her.

  But those things were in the past. She had to focus on the present, ensuring Elizabeth got the chance to enjoy such things.

 

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