by Stacy Reid
Christ.
She dipped a toe into the water, and with a soft yelp retreated. Then she grinned, backed up, and launched toward the water. Edmond watched in stunned disbelief as she jumped into the lake. Despite it being summer, the water would be cold, and larks like this he would expect of himself in his younger days, or from his brother Jackson, not from a young lady.
Seconds later she surfaced and a shout of laughter escaped her, throaty yet incredibly feminine. He stepped forward, and she spun in the water with sleek grace toward the sound, an expression of shock settling on her lovely features.
She peered into the dark toward the cypress tree. “Is someone there?”
A quiet wistfulness filled Edmond. He didn’t want to frighten her away…he wanted her to stay. Instead of fighting the desire, he stepped closer. Then the dratted dog lurched forward and bounded to her.
Her eyes widened, but she swam toward the embankment and hauled herself from the pond. His cock jumped and hardened at the sight of such beguiling sensuality. The punch of desire made Edmond lightheaded, and he bloody stumbled. The wet chemise pasted to her form left little to his imagination. From where he stood, he fancied he could see the dark duskiness of her nipples that stabbed against the wet material, and the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. Her skin glowed like smooth ivory under the moonlight, her raven hair a rousing contrast.
Bloody hell, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her.
Her elegant fingers stroked Maximus’ fur, and his great brute of a dog, fairly melted in a puddle at her feet. Her laughter, husky and lyrical floated on their air. “You are just a big puppy, aren’t you?” she crooned.
Edmond scowled. She was turning his dog into…into… He snapped his teeth together when the word eluded. But he did envy his damn dog its position.
“Where is your master?”
As if he understood, Maximus’s head lolled toward Edmond’s direction and a great woof rumbled from the beast. She lifted her head and peered toward the shadows of the cypress trees.
“Are you there, Edmond?”
“Yes,” he said, after an awkward silence and moved from the shadows, sauntering toward her.
Her face lit with a smile of welcome. She shivered. “This is one of my more ill-advised ideas. It did not occur to me to bring a coat or blankets. I simply saw the brightness of the moon, and admired how the light shimmered on the surface of the pond and followed the impulse,” she ended, with a charming chuckle.
He stepped forward, shrugged from his coat, and held it out to her.
She smiled uncertainly. “It will be soaked.”
“It does not signify.”
She was staring at him with a frown creasing her delicate brows. “I am happy to return inside. I believe I may have intruded on you here.”
“Please do not leave on my account, the lake is large enough.”
“Thank you.” She took the proffered coat and hurriedly bundled herself into it.
“Oh, the warmth is wonderful.” She dealt him a considering glance. “Are you chilled?”
“The air is tolerable.”
Then silence. Her presence was strangely soothing, and he realized it was her quality of stillness. She was simply gazing about, appreciating the land under the banner of moonlight. He grimaced. Maryann would have been chattering nonstop, and he would have listened to tales of their neighbors and latest fashion with an indulgent ear.
“Maximus is a beautiful dog.”
What was he to say to that? Edmond grunted noncommittally.
“Has he any siblings?”
Edmond blinked. “Who?”
“Maximus.”
“No, I found him.”
She stirred and faced him, looking dwarfed and ridiculously appealing in his coat. “Where?”
He sighed, she was determined to draw him into conversation, and he found he wanted…hell, he wanted to converse. Sometimes it was damned lonely to always be in his own head. “There was a storm a few years ago, and the bridge in the village collapsed with a few carriages. I was there helping to rescue people from the waters when I spied him drifting past on a fallen log. I took him home with me. He was a pup then.”
She smiled. “It is hard to imagine such a great brute to be a pup. He is so wonderful I am amazed no one claimed him.”
“He was starved and flea ridden. I doubted anyone would have come.”
She stuffed her hand in the pocket of his coat, and with a frown withdrew his flask.
“Ah, liquid courage,” she said wryly.
“It is whiskey.”
She rolled the word on her tongue. “That night at the Gladstone’s I was so nervous I drank three full glasses of sherry.”
He remembered the sweet tartness on her tongue. Suddenly he was intensely curious about her. “What possessed you to act with such boldness?”
She gave him a considering glance, then a wide smile appeared on her lips. “I think someone is curious about me.”
He blinked.
She unscrewed the flask and took a swallow, then spluttered and coughed until her eyes watered. “Damnation!”
Edmond couldn’t help but smile at the loud unladylike curse. “No one told you to drink it.”
“I thought it would have warmed me like the sherry.” She grinned. “And it did.”
Then she held out the flask to him as if they were drinking companions. The night was taking on a surreal feel. Yet he gripped it, and took a swallow, welcoming the warmth that settled in his stomach and spread through his veins.
“The Earl of Vale kissed me when I did not want him to,” she said abruptly. “It was a soiree at his house in Hertfordshire, held by his sister. Lady Margaret insisted we all attend, and Lord Vale startled me in the gardens and tore my dress, and left bruises on my arms and lips.”
The cold rage that stirred in Edmond’s gut startled him. He shifted through everything he knew of the man, and made the resolve then that Vale would understand the error he’d made in touching his duchess. It hardly mattered Edmond had not known her then.
“He of course offered for me, and instead of Papa saying no, they thought his offer would restore my honor.” She scoffed. “My honor…when he had been the one to act in such a frightful and disgusting manner. I knew I could never marry such a man, and Mr. Atwood had offered for me several times. I simply thought being in his room would force Papa to see sense. I never expected to end up in your bed,” she said with a delighted smile.
Why she seemed so pleased he had no idea, for her folly took her from a man she had affections for.
He grunted noncommittally, but resolved in his heart that Lord Vale would be made to see the error of his debauched behavior toward Adeline. Edmond held the flask back to her and she pursed her lips.
“I already tasted it once, and I am sure you were appalled at my unladylike manner.”
“I do not believe taking a few sips of whiskey to be only a gentleman pursuit.”
Her mouth stretched and he was unwillingly fascinated by that crooked smile.
“How enlightened. I daresay I thought I would have been upbraided.”
“I was never one to fall in line with society’s expectation.”
“Very unusual, I thought all dukes were staid.”
“I don’t give a damn what’s proper,” he clipped.
She grinned and grabbed the flask, taking another swig of the whiskey and then shuddering at its potency. “The stars are beautiful,” she said on a sigh. “Do you know that many people simply never tilt their head back and marvel at the wonders of the universe? I’ve had three seasons and on some occasion manage to ask several ladies and gentlemen their opinion. They were very affronted I was not speaking on the latest on-dit. In fact, I think they found me odd.”
Why was he so riveted?
“My father admired the heavens.” Why had he offered that intimacy? He rarely spoke of his father, if ever. He normally protected his true sentiments and opinions behind a wall of reserve. A leg
acy his father had taught him and one Edmond was proud to say was natural to him. He only ever took a few people into his confidence, Westfall, his brother, and, on very rare occasion, his mother. Now he found himself unaccountably compelled to engage in conversation with his duchess, such intimate conversation, too.
“Truly?”
“Yes.”
“He sounds like he was a very sensible man.”
“I am sure he would have been glad you approve of him,” he said with amused irritation.
“I have always wanted to learn the constellations.”
His father had taught him, only months before he had died. Edmond’s heart lurched. He had been about to thoughtlessly offer to help her.
“I’ve read Messier’s Catalogue, but I am still at loss on how to identify certain constellations.”
His father would have fallen in love with Edmond’s new duchess for the mere fact she had read Messier’s Catalogue.
“I have a telescope,” he heard himself offering.
A delighted gasp escaped her lips. “That is wonderful, you must teach me. You do know what to look for?”
How had it gotten to this stage? An hour later, Edmond found himself bemusedly seated by his duchess on the stone bench, the flask of whiskey empty, her cheeks flushed becomingly, soft sighs slipping from her at intervals as they watched the stars through the damn telescope he had quickly retrieved from his study. He was clueless as to what was happening, but he did like her company. He’d hardly had any time recently to simply sit and converse with anyone. There had been no discourse with females save for his mother and employees, in the last three years. He’d avoided the season, despising the thought of inane and pointless chatter. Yet he and his duchess did not partake in any rousing parliamentary arguments or discuss estate matters. They were simply wonderful, ordinary, everyday musings.
What did he think of heaven?
How had his father died? Edmond had told her, and when she offered her sympathy she had glowed with sincerity.
Did he know all the constellations?
Her favorites were Cassiopeia, Taurus, and Sagittarius.
She loved pies.
She hated needlework and playing the pianoforte.
He was also exceedingly handsome, which was also quite unfair.
He was annoying for not consummating their vows.
And Mr. James Atwood had been audacious enough to send her several letters begging for forgiveness and to resume their friendship.
Startlingly Edmond felt a surge of icy anger at that last revelation. “And what did you say to your Mr. Atwood?”
She cleared her throat. “Well he is not my Mr. Atwood anymore. But I did reassure him we are friends.” She glanced up and her beautiful eyes widened. “Upon my word, your countenance has taken on a decidedly diabolical cast.”
Amusement rushed through Edmond at her undisguised alarm. “Has it?”
She tapped her chin with a finger. “Hmm, I think, Your Grace, you did not appreciate me saying I would remain friends with Mr. Atwood. But I assure you, it will be a careful friendship at best. Although I find it outrageous the manner in which he abandoned me, I cannot hold malice in my heart.” Then her lips stretched. “I say, was it possible you were a tiny bit jealous?”
The notion so shocked him, he jerked. Jealous? “I do not feel such emotions.”
She rolled her eyes, and he was nonplussed. Adeline was nothing like any other young lady he had met before. She was different, but in the most refreshing way.
“I do confess I am a bit tipsy,” she said with a soft giggle and then exhaled on a gusty sigh. She turned her head to him, and in the depth of her eyes lurked laughter…and desire.
He gathered his scattered thoughts, assisted his giggling duchess to her feet, and guided her across the lawns and into the house. Maximus followed happily along, barking when she started singing. Edmond winced at the atrociously unmusical way she carried a tune, but strangely wanted her to continue. He was relieved to see the butler had not retired for the night, and when they crossed the threshold, Edmond swung Adeline into his arms and walked unhurriedly to the winding staircase. The butler’s face was carefully stoic when she oooohed about how strong Edmond was, poking at his arms. Their butler choked when she asked if he was just as hard all over.
Christ.
She smiled up at him, and something inside his chest twisted.
He liked the woman, for God’s sake.
A few minutes later they arrived at her chamber and he rang for her lady’s maid, who threw him a startled glance before ushering her singing mistress into the dressing room. Edmond exited, his heart beating in an uneven rhythm, and he wondered what the hell had just happened?
Chapter Sixteen
A peal of laughter pierced the air, and Edmond lifted his head. He tried to convince himself to remain planted behind the oak desk in his study, but he was indelibly drawn to the sound of such joy. Rosette Park had been so silent and weary, as if it had been waiting for the right moment to come alive. It had slowly done so in the two weeks since he had brought home his new duchess. His daughters seemed more relaxed, fresh roses and flowers had appeared to decorate the house, dinners seemed more varied and frivolous, and even their servants seemed more content. His mother had taken a shine to Adel, and Lady Harriet had even gone as far as to congratulate him on making a fine match. Shaking his head in bemusement, he pushed himself up from the high wing-backed chair and strolled to stand in front of the window that gave him a clear view of his wife and children.
Since their late night meeting by the lake, Adel had slowly been fascinating Edmond, so much so that now he couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Wisps of hair escaped her topknot and framed her lovely features. She ran with the children, her form lithe and graceful. When not beset with the society of the polite world, as she had been for the past several days, Adeline behaved without the decorum of a duchess, and his children seemed to be falling in love with her for it. Her shout of laughter rang joyously in the air, and against his inclination Edmond moved even closer to the windows.
What were they doing?
He blinked when his duchess darted around a thicket of bushes and fell on her stomach. In the grass. She came up on her knees and peeked through the thicket, and his gaze dropped to her rounded derriere. Hell. She was arched just right. He could see himself loving her in that exact position. He could taste her sighs, hear her whimpers, and feel her wetness… He bit back a groan.
She clasped one of her hands over her mouth as if to prevent laughter, and Edmond found himself holding his breath, hoping she would succeed in hiding her merriment, and not reveal her position.
He was a damn fool, standing there, watching her, waiting for a smile…a laugh…a glance in his direction, instead of tending to his untold responsibilities. A dukedom did not operate by itself despite what others believed, but his feet remained rooted. Staying away from her had been sheer hell. They dined every night, and had even played chess the evening before because of the rains, but then they had taken to their separate chambers. Every night she inspired dreams of tangled sweaty limbs, twisted sheets, and heated cries. But it was more than lust. He liked her, truly liked everything about her, her wit and vivacity, and her strength in the face of his reserve. A reserve he desperately wanted to shed, and had no notion where to start.
It did not escape him that they were not legally bound until he consummated their union. He’d almost entered her chambers last night. He’d thought to be perfunctory and quick, so that part was done. But he’d been unable to do it, remembering the flush of passion when he’d kissed her. She deserved more, yet the thought of such intimacy and where it could lead…
“Your Grace?”
He glanced at Mr. Dobson, his secretary. Edmond had forgotten the man was in the room, awaiting his dictation. A young and upcoming barrister, Edmond had hired Mr. Dobson for his political leanings and his keen intelligence. They had been going through several motions together, and he a
ssisted with writing his speeches for the House of Lords.
Bloody rotten hell.
The man must think he had taken leave of his senses.
“We will resume in an hour.”
Mr. Dobson frowned but nodded in agreement and departed from the room.
Another peal of laughter tore through the air, and Sarah came barreling around the corner, shouting some nonsense Edmond was unable to ascertain. He watched them play, a need rising in him to join them. He glanced at the mountain of paperwork he had to wade through, mainly sent by his estate managers. There were many letters to be answered, his stewards had informed him there were repairs required at Kellwich Castle. Ditches needed to be dug on his Suffolk estate and drainage needed to be installed. He would be lucky if he had time to write the article he had hoped to on providing training and education for those orphans who were dependent on parish relief for their nurture.
Both girls spied Adel, and with rousing shrieks, they launched themselves at her. They were all acting like hoydens and Edmond never wanted them to stop. The laughter dwindled, and his duchess said something to the girls. They nodded vigorously, and his heart clenched when she brushed a fingertip over Sarah’s cheek with a tender smile.
Only God could have conspired to drop a young lady who was kind and patient with his daughters into his lap. There was no other explanation. He watched in fascination, almost pressing his nose to the glass pane, as his girls tipped their heads back and chortled. How did Adel accomplish such a feat?
After Maryann’s death he had lost a part of himself, sinking into a roaring drunken stupor for weeks, then an icy distance to protect himself from the ache. When he had resurfaced, it was as if his daughters did not know him, and he had been at loss as how to reconnect. He’d abandoned them in their grief, and he despised himself for it. How had his duchess achieved so effortlessly what he had been trying to for months?
His girls went in one direction, and Adel stood, brushing grass from her gown, and walked hurriedly inside. He lost sight of her and rocked back on his heels. Unable to help himself, he exited his study, and spied her heading down the corridor, toward the library. He followed, cursing himself for the need to see her face up close, to smell her, to even see a glimpse of the smiles she had bestowed on his daughters.