An Innocent Maid For The Duke

Flo tilted her head, her blue eyes perceptive. ‘You like this man.’

She’d be lying to her friend if she said no and that she did not want to do. ‘He was nice.’ More than nice. He made her heart do somersaults and her body tingle in wicked places. That last, though, was something she would never admit to anyone.

‘Then the real question is...do you want to see him again?’

Dreadfully. The longing in her heart would not be denied. ‘I feel horrible every time I think of him waiting.’ The back of her throat burned at the idea she would never see him again, except maybe from a distance. ‘I should at least let him know meeting him again is impossible. But how could I, dressed like this? I’d be too ashamed. Oh, why, oh, why did I try on the dress?’

Flo ran a glance from her head to her heels. ‘You’re right. That dress certainly won’t do. Leave it to me.’ She bustled away.

Rose mopped the water from the floor and she plunged her hands back into the hot soapy water.

Her heart picked up speed at the thought of seeing His Grace again. She took a deep steadying breath. She couldn’t. No matter what Flo said. It was an impossible dream. Hadn’t she learned long ago dreams were not for the likes of her?

Of course he would not be waiting.

She’d heard all the rumours about him. How he was before he came into the title. He was a man who loved the ladies. All different sorts of ladies. Never faithful to one particular one. Always out for a good time. There were darker rumours, too. Those she’d ignored.

Oh, he might have shown up once, she supposed, shrugged his shoulders at her non-appearance and moved on.

If only her foolish heart didn’t keep wanting to know for certain. And hoping.

* * *

Only a fool would spend three nights sitting on a cold stone bench waiting for a woman who had made it pretty clear she wouldn’t meet him.

A fool indeed.

Not to mention that the last thing he needed was to become entangled with another man’s wife. Dukes didn’t do that sort of thing. So what if she’d felt so right in his arms, had eyes the colour of peridots and her kisses tasted of honey and innocence? He had responsibilities now. Duties. The days of dalliance and enjoyment were done.

Besides, he didn’t deserve them.

And yet, still he sat here, watching the gate in the wall leading into the garden from the alley. This was the very last time. He’d said it last night, but tonight he meant it.

He got up and paced around the lawn, letting the blood flow back into his backside, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. Though why he’d be tense he didn’t know. All the paperwork he’d ploughed through earlier in the day, no doubt. He needed a drink to relax him, instead of hanging about here like some lovesick swain.

Hell. He didn’t even know her name. Had no way of seeking her out. In his mind he called her the lady in red. His lady in red, no less, he mocked.

If she didn’t come this evening, he’d pin his card to the gate. She could damned well chase after him. He had only come tonight because a gentleman always kept his word. At least, until it was no longer viable. Three nights was more than enough, though he’d likely always regret never seeing her face or getting her name. A feeling he couldn’t account for at all. Perhaps it was because of his surprise at seeing her float around in front of the mirror like a goddess come to earth. And the way she’d made him feel something other than numb for those few moments.

Perhaps this was his punishment for all the times he’d missed appointments with his father because he was having such a good time. Just deserts, so to speak. He glanced heavenwards and shook his head. Pure imagination. And wishful thinking.

He returned to the stone bench and eyed it with distaste. Why not simply give up and return to the comforts of the club and a very fine old brandy?

Better yet, he should go home. The thought of the accusing stares of his household slid a dagger between his ribs and into the hollow cavity of his chest. The same guilty pain he felt every time his grandmother looked at him.

He pulled out his pocket watch and flicked open the case with a thumbnail. Twenty minutes past the hour of seven o’clock. Ten minutes and he was leaving.

Once more he paced the edge of lawn and then shot a glance at the garden gate...again.

His jaw dropped. For a moment he thought he might be experiencing a hallucination. Despite the fact that he’d been waiting, he’d been positive she would not come.

Now she was here, he was slack jawed and speechless. Tonight, she was vision in green wearing a far more modest gown than she’d worn the night they’d met, but it also showed off the sumptuousness of her hour-glass figure, the elegant slope of her shoulders and brought out the unusual green of her eyes. Tonight, instead of a river of hair down her back, her tresses were hidden beneath the crown of a straw bonnet, leaving only one ringlet to fall over her shoulder and draw attention to her magnificent cleavage.

Delicious. He almost licked his lips with the desire to taste every inch of her milky skin.

The hesitance in her expression brought him to his senses.

He bowed. ‘Madame.’ Dash it, couldn’t he sound more friendly and less ducal? What had happened to his famous rakish charm?

‘I wasn’t sure you would still be here.’ She sounded breathless. Shy.

He shrugged. ‘I gave my word. Though I must say I was about to leave.’

She winced. ‘I apologise. I was unable to...come before.’

Was she toying with him? Hoping that by keeping him in suspense, she could control him? It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had tried such ploys. He was too old a hand at the game of flirtation to be caught in such a way. Then why was he staring at her with a besotted grin on his face? Idiot.

He took her hand in his and kissed the back of her glove.

She dipped a curtsy.

Another man of his rank might have deemed her courtesy an insult, for it was neither deep enough or held long enough to be deemed anywhere close to correct. Indeed, it was more of a little bob, as if he held a junior rank or no rank at all.

A deliberate snub? Had she heard the rumours and believed them?

He put his hands behind his back, reverting to the posture his father had so often employed to put him in his place.

She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. A quick shy little glance before she looked at her feet again. ‘I did not intend to come at all,’ she said in her soft clear voice, the odd little accent once more teasing at his ear. ‘But I did not like to think of you waiting.’

She was pitying him? His spine stiffened. ‘I can assure you I have not been waiting long.’

She nodded her acceptance of his words, when he had expected her to flirt and tease. Something he would have been perfectly comfortable with. This honesty left him flat-footed. All at sea. ‘Since you are here,’ he said, more gruffly than he intended, ‘perhaps you would care to take a turn about the garden?’

She glanced around nervously and up at the building. ‘If you are sure we will not be seen.’

‘I am sure.’ He held out his arm.

After a slight hesitation that had him on tenterhooks, she rested her hand on his arm.

A tactical error. By walking side by side, the only way he could see her expressions was to bend forward to peer around the brim of her bonnet. And wouldn’t that make him look like some callow eager youth. He led her to an arbour where roses grew over a trellis and some thoughtful gardener had set another infernal stone seat. ‘Please, sit for a while. I think you will find the view from here to your taste.’ He flicked his handkerchief over the stone surface to ensure she would not ruin her gown.

She smiled up at him. ‘Thank you.’

Guileless, that smile, and yet it beguiled him none the less.

She perched on the edge of the seat and he sat beside her, angling his body so he could see her profile while she gazed around.

‘I did not expect so large a garden,’ she said. ‘In London, I mean.’