by Darcy Burke
Nora, however, was not one of those people. She was someone with whom he could relax and let down his guard—if he wanted to.
He studied her pert profile.
Yes, he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. There was no point when their association would be disappointingly brief.
“It is I who must apologize. I’m afraid I don’t socialize well,” he said.
“You did fine at your stepmother’s ball.”
He sent her a wry glance. “I’ve had enough practice with that particular occasion—that’s the one thing I do annually, if you recall.”
She laughed again, and the sound burrowed into him, sparking something most inconvenient—desire. “I do recall, and even if I didn’t, there are plenty who will remind me.”
He couldn’t help but join in her mirth. “That is true. It’s an appalling state.”
She adjusted her hold on his arm, sending a shock of awareness straight to his gut. “People talking about you?”
“I don’t much care if people talk about me. As you so aptly stated, I am untouchable. Most, however, are not. I find gossip and the proclivity of much of Society to burrow their noses in other people’s business abhorrent.”
Her gaze took on a sheen of approval. “You’re most vehement.”
“As any full-witted person ought to be.”
She pressed her lips together, and he had the sense she was trying not to grin. “I agree.”
He allowed his lips to curve into a smile. “Of course you do.”
She’d already demonstrated her keen intelligence and delicious wit the other night. She was, so far, unlike any other young lady he’d met.
Her eyes narrowed in a playful, almost flirtatious manner. “Your Grace, I think you do know how to socialize. You flatter me.”
Apparently he hadn’t completely forgotten how. “Only by chance.”
“Oh? You didn’t mean to be complimentary?” Definitely flirtatious, judging by her arch tone.
He couldn’t help but warm to her vivacity. “See? I told you I wasn’t good at this. I didn’t set out to charm you. I don’t set out to charm anyone.” Not anymore.
“And that’s precisely what I find so…charming,” she murmured, her eyes glowing like dark amber.
They’d traversed the path to the site of the picnic and now made their way to their assigned blanket. This area was flat, but past the picnic area, the ground gently sloped down toward the small lake, where a handful of boats bobbed near the shoreline. A group of footmen stood at the ready to assist picnickers into the watercrafts.
Nora gestured toward the lake. “Oh, there are boats!” Her unabashed glee coaxed another smile to his lips.
His stepmother turned upon hearing Nora’s exclamation. “Indeed. We shall see if we can persuade Mr. Dawson to take you out in one.” She gave her ward a mischievous grin.
Dawson? Who the hell was Dawson?
Titus had almost forgotten that the goal was to give Nora a Season, and more importantly, the chance to find the husband that she was denied. He’d been about to offer to take her onto the lake himself, but it was better that she went with someone else. Someone she could marry. He was not that someone. A wife would intrude on the solitude he loved, but more than that, Nora wouldn’t want him—not after he’d contributed to her disgrace.
His stepmother looked at him with satisfaction in her gaze. “He danced with Miss Lockhart last night. As did several other gentlemen. Miss Lockhart is becoming quite popular.”
Nora blushed and didn’t meet Titus’s gaze. “I hardly think so.”
A scowl sprang to Titus’s mouth, but he was able to wrestle it into a mere grimace. Then he forced himself to smile. Again. “How nice.”
“Shall we sit?” his stepmother asked.
Titus reluctantly withdrew his arm from Nora’s electrifying touch. “I’m not staying.”
Nora’s gaze snapped to his, her disappointment evident. “You aren’t?”
His stepmother gave him a cross look. “I was hoping you might stay longer.” Her eyes narrowed, and he knew a discussion would be forthcoming—either now or later.
His stepfather intervened, but not in the way Titus would have hoped. “Come, Miss Lockhart, let us sit down.” He guided her to the blanket.
Titus’s stepmother pulled him a discreet distance from the blankets and, more importantly, from inquisitive ears. Clearly the interview was to come now. “Can’t you stay a little while?”
“Why? You have this Dawson chap on leading strings already, do you not? Plus any number of other gentlemen. I’ve done what I said I would.”
She studied him with a small frown. “You seem annoyed. Do you have a problem with Dawson?”
Hell. He didn’t even know the man. He only knew the thought of him—of anyone—courting Nora was akin to a splinter stuck beneath his thumbnail. “I’m sure Dawson is splendid.” He made an effort not to grit his teeth.
She peered at him expectantly. “Is there any possibility you might be interested in Miss Lockhart?”
Interested. That word could encompass many things. Did he want to converse with her about such inanities as the weather and the color of the ocean? Yes. Did he wish to dance with her or take her out in a dinghy on a tiny lake? Yes and yes. Did he desire the heat of her gaze upon him, the touch of her hand, the press of her lips against his? Holy hell, yes.
He looked over at her sitting next to his stepfather on the blanket. He could almost smell her lilac scent.
“No,” he said tightly, thinking that the constrained sound of that single word somehow approximated the feel of his breeches around his thickening cock. It was past time to leave.
His stepmother’s answering look indicated she didn’t entirely believe him, but he didn’t care to debate the point. “Well, if you were, I would endorse your suit.”
Of course she would. She wouldn’t care if Titus wished to court a washerwoman or a princess. She only wanted him to be happy. And that was why he loved her.
“I’m leaving now.” He took a step toward the path.
“Will you come for dinner later?” she asked.
During the Season, he typically had dinner with them once a week or so. But that was when it had just been the three of them. Now there was Nora, to whom he was apparently insanely attracted. “I don’t know. I have some things to read.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled too. “You always do. I hope we’ll see you. You know you’re always welcome.”
He chanced another glance at Nora and had the air sucked straight from his lungs when he saw she was looking right at him. Those inquisitive, gorgeous eyes of hers seemed as though they might pierce directly into his soul, if he let them.
And he wouldn’t. Of all the women he might finally allow into his life, she was the one he couldn’t consider. She was the one who’d eviscerate him if she ever discovered the role he’d played in her downfall—and rightly so.
Chapter 7
Nora clutched the side of the small boat as it teetered precariously.
Mr. Dawson laughed warmly. “I’ve got it now, I think.” They’d been in the boat ten minutes, and he was having the devil of a time figuring out how to row properly. Nora feared they were going to end up swimming in the small lake.
The craft evened out, and Nora loosened her grip, though she kept one hand on the side. Why, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as if holding on to the boat would save her from a dunking if they tipped over. She wondered if Kendal would’ve had such trouble and instantly doubted it. His entire demeanor suggested he commanded everything he did. He wouldn’t allow a small watercraft to be a nuisance.
She looked over at Mr. Dawson, with whom she’d danced last night. He was a pleasant fellow perhaps five years her senior. A widower, he was on the hunt for a wife—and a mother for his two children back in Sussex. He seemed an affable sort, quick to laugh and charm, with an ever-ready smile lighting his acorn-brown eyes.
His light brown wavy hair fell across his forehead,
and he pushed it back as he fought to turn the boat back toward the dock. “My apologies, Miss Lockhart. I’m afraid I’m not much of a sportsman. However, if you desire an engaging chess match or game of cards, I’m your fellow.”
Nora worked to ignore the rocking of the boat. She’d suffered worse during their short jaunt, but she’d feel much better when they were back on land. “As a matter of fact, I enjoy chess immensely. My father taught me to play when I was younger.” Before he’d withdrawn into himself after Mother had died.
Mr. Dawson inclined his head. “Excellent. I look forward to playing with you some time.”
That he spoke of some future activity surprised Nora. Did that mean he was interested in courting her? She was woefully out of practice when it came to this game. If she’d ever been any good at it. One could argue she was an abject failure at husband hunting.
They were headed toward another craft. Nora put both hands on the sides again as she tensed. “Careful of the other boat,” she said, perhaps stating the obvious. However, she wanted to be certain Mr. Dawson saw them.
He dug the oar deeper into the water as he worked to alter their course. “Yes, I see them. This is just so…difficult.” He grimaced as he barely managed to divert the boat. The man rowing the other boat had acted quickly and was probably the reason they’d avoided a glancing collision.
As it was, the two crafts came abreast of each other and exchanged friendly waves. Nora overheard what the woman in the other boat said to her companion, “Did you see the Forbidden Duke? Lady Faversham said he was here, but I didn’t see him.”
“I did not, but I daresay she was mistaken,” the gentleman replied. “He doesn’t attend gatherings like this.”
“That’s what I said. But she was most insistent.”
Nora didn’t say a word as the growing distance between them prevented her from hearing any more of their conversation.
Mr. Dawson let his hands go slack with the oars hovering above the surface of the water. “We are approaching land at last.” He flashed her a self-deprecating smile. “You must be terribly relieved.”
“Will you dislike me if I say I am?”
He laughed. “Heavens, no, I shall respect your honesty.”
The boat tapped the dock, and a footman helped them to disembark.
Once Nora’s feet were safely on the ground, she fully relaxed, giving her shoulders a little shake as the tension seeped from them. She turned to Mr. Dawson, who was adjusting his hat. “This is much better,” she said.
“Agreed.” He offered her his arm, and they strolled back toward her blanket. “I think I shall keep my feet on terra firma from now on. Unless someone else is steering the boat.”
“An excellent notion.”
He cast her a quick glance. “I hope you managed to enjoy yourself despite my ineptitude.”
“I had a lovely time—you are not inept. You acquitted yourself far better than I would have.”
“Only because you haven’t practiced.”
“And you have?” she asked, looking at him askance.
He chuckled. “Not really. Perhaps you would have done better.”
They arrived at Nora’s blanket, and she thanked him again for the boat ride.
Lady Satterfield put her hand at the edge of her bonnet brim for additional shade as she looked up at them. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”
“Yes, quite,” Nora said as she sat down beside her.
Mr. Dawson executed a bow. “Until next time, Miss Lockhart.” As he straightened and turned, his toe caught the edge of Lady Satterfield’s plate, flipping it so the contents, including a large dollop of jam, landed against Nora’s skirt.
His face creased with distress. “Oh no! I am absolutely graceless. My sincerest apologies.”
Lady Satterfield dabbed at Nora’s skirt with a napkin. “You should get some water on that.”
Nora’s dress, like her entire wardrobe, was new. She didn’t want to think it might be ruined, not after the trouble and expense Lady Satterfield had gone to. She also didn’t want Mr. Dawson to feel bad. She smiled brightly up at him. “It’s quite all right. Accidents happen all the time. I once spilled an entire glass of ratafia down my front.” During her first Season. It had ruined the ball gown, much to her cousin’s dismay. “I’ll just take a quick trip to the retiring room.”
Mr. Dawson offered his hand to help her up.
“I’ll come with you, dear,” Lady Satterfield said, and Mr. Dawson also assisted her to stand.
“I do hope you won’t think poorly of me after this,” Mr. Dawson said earnestly.
Nora smiled at him. “Of course not.”
He offered another bow—causing no damage this time—and took his leave. Nora departed with Lady Satterfield toward the house.
“I daresay a courtship might be in the offing,” Lady Satterfield said when they were out of earshot of the blanket.
“We scarcely know each other.” For some reason, Nora thought of Kendal. She scarcely knew him either, and yet he occupied so many of her thoughts. She wished he hadn’t left the picnic.
Lady Satterfield started up the short set of stairs to the back patio. “I’ve been around a long time, and I’d say Dawson is definitely interested in you. He danced with you last night and sought you out today. That’s interest.”
Again, Nora’s mind summoned Kendal. He’d also danced with Nora, and he’d also sought her out today. Perhaps the latter wasn’t precisely true—she had no evidence that he’d come to the picnic in order to see her. Really, that would be absurd. But why had he come, particularly when it was common knowledge that he didn’t, as a general rule?
Why did her thoughts keep going back to Kendal? Was it because he’d been the first to pay her attention or because he was…Kendal?
What does that even mean?
It meant he was extraordinary. Definitive. The Forbidden Duke. Whether he’d come to the picnic to see her or not, he’d paid her special attention—not this once, but twice. The realization sent a delicious shiver up her spine. She’d thought they might’ve shared a connection at Lady Satterfield’s ball, probably because of the way he’d looked at her at Lady Satterfield’s tea—as if he’d wanted to know her.
You are being entirely ridiculous.
Just because he made her heart race and he’d been nice to her on a pair of occasions didn’t mean he wanted anything more than an acquaintance. He was the Forbidden Duke—he wasn’t interested in anyone. He was likely only paying her attention because Lady Satterfield had taken her in.
“Does Mr. Dawson interest you?” Lady Satterfield’s query drew Nora from her fanciful thoughts. “He’s not wealthy, but I believe he’s comfortable enough. And he does have children, so you’d have to become an instant mother.” Her features softened. “I’ve done that myself, of course, and it’s wonderful.”
With Kendal. She’d become his mother when she’d married his widowed father. That much Nora had learned in the days since she’d moved to Lady Satterfield’s town house.
Nora didn’t think before saying the next thought that crossed her brain. “I heard someone talking about Kendal on the lake.” She cast Lady Satterfield a worried glance. She hadn’t meant to gossip, especially about the woman’s own son. Oh, she was worse than out of practice. She was hopeless. “My apologies. I shouldn’t repeat such things.”
Lady Satterfield laughed. “It’s hard to ignore talk about my stepson. Especially at an event like this.”
They reached the door to the house, and Nora followed Lady Satterfield into the drawing room. “Surely he should be able to attend a picnic without scrutiny?”
Lady Satterfield lifted a shoulder. “This is London, dear. An unmarried duke can’t do anything without scrutiny.”
“Lady Satterfield!” An older woman strode toward them. “I must speak with you. Is it true Kendal was here earlier? Is he finally on the hunt for a wife?”
Lady Satterfield turned to Nora. “Do you require assistance in the re
tiring room? It’s just through there down the corridor.” She gestured toward a doorway.
“No, I’ll be fine.” She suppressed a smile. “I’ll leave you to deal with…that.”
Lady Satterfield’s eyes sparkled with mirth as she whispered, “This could be fun.”
Nora had no idea what Lady Satterfield intended to say or do to make that encounter “fun,” but imagined she’d hear all about it later. She found the retiring room with ease and tended to the spot on her skirt. The outline of the stain was still there, but with treatment when they returned home, it would be salvageable.
She found herself in a strange room and realized she’d taken a wrong turn out of the retiring room. She spun on her heel and was about to retrace her steps when her heart lodged in her throat. There, blocking the doorway, was Lord Haywood, the very last person she ever wanted to see, never mind encounter alone.
He was as tall as she remembered, but he’d filled out a bit so that he didn’t seem as athletic as he’d been in her memory. And his pale hair was thinning. But his cobalt eyes were as vivid and alluring as ever. Those eyes had seduced her, along with the smile that was currently curving his thin lips.
Had she really found him devastatingly attractive once? Now he seemed utterly lacking, especially when compared with Kendal, the man who had somehow become Nora’s measuring stick for all other men.
The tension she’d felt on the lake returned tenfold as she searched for another way out of the small sitting room. There was another door, but she had no idea where it led. For all she knew, it was a closet and she’d be even more trapped than she already was.
“Miss Lockhart?” His deep voice rattled her already screaming nerves. “I had heard you were back in town. I’m so glad we’ve run into each other.” He crossed the room toward her, leaving the doorway accessible—provided she could get around him.
She knew she ought to be polite, perhaps act as though she didn’t even know him. But the pain and injustice of nine years surged through her. “I would prefer it if you never spoke to me.” She forced herself to move and made to barrel past him.