Stolen Encounters With The Duchess

‘I would certainly recommend getting them into the country more,’ Lord Witlow replied to her question. ‘Never too young for the little Duke to start learning about his land and tenants. Though I regret he never developed an interest in politics, I’m proud of the work my son Esterbrook has done on our estate, which he began running when he was still a boy. Besides his duty to Parliament, there’s nothing more important than a landlord’s care of his land.’

‘I would like to get Edward to Ashedon Court more often, but now that the Dowager has moved back with us, it’s no easier than when her son was living. Both much prefer staying in town.’

‘Take them on your own, then,’ the Marquess advised. ‘They no longer have a father whose permission you must secure, and I imagine the trustees will approve any decisions you make about their care that seem reasonable.’

‘I really may?’ Faith asked, her eyes lighting. ‘I would love that! Although we visited so seldom, I know almost as little about Ashedon Court as my sons.’

‘Time to learn more,’ Witlow said.

‘Might have a care, though,’ Coopley added from his end of the table. ‘It’s a hotbed of radicals, from Liverpool and Manchester, out into Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire.’

‘Is that a problem?’ Faith asked.

‘Those are the cities and the areas that currently have no, or limited, representation in Parliament,’ Davie explained. ‘Over the years, there have been demonstrations and protests.’

‘Riots and destruction of property, more like,’ Coopley countered. ‘Depending on how close Ashedon Court is to the disturbances, I could see why your late husband might not have wanted to install his family there. Though proximity to his London doxies rather than his family’s safety is more likely the reason for his remaining in town,’ he added, mirroring thoughts Davie wouldn’t have been tactless enough to voice.

Apparently armoured now against the baron’s bluntness, Faith barely blushed. ‘Mr Smith told me the new industrial cities of the north, having not existed when Parliamentary districts were drawn up in medieval times, were among those most vocal in calling for revamping the way Members are chosen. There were also towns and districts from that old assessment who now have very little population, yet retain their representatives, aren’t there?’

‘Exactly,’ Rowleton, one of the Reform MPs, said. ‘For instance, Dunwich has thirty-two voters, Camelford twenty-five, Gatton seven, yet each of these send two representatives to Parliament. While Liverpool and Manchester, with thousands of souls, send none! It’s a travesty we must address, and the Reform Bill does.’

‘Perhaps, but you would take away votes from some districts that have always had them,’ the Tory, Lord Howlett, said. ‘That’s not just, either.’

Normally, Davie would have launched into the discussion himself, but tonight, he was much more interested in watching Faith, her eyes sparkling, her lips curving into a smile as she followed the banter and debating points being scored up and down the table.

* * *

All too soon for his liking, the meal ended, brandy was brought in, and Lady Lyndlington rose. ‘Before anyone comes to fisticuffs, we ladies shall leave you gentlemen to sort out the details. Duchess?’

‘A fascinating discussion, which I am so pleased you allowed me to witness,’ Faith said. ‘I can now claim to be much more knowledgeable about the great work going forward.’

‘Yes, and you can warn those drawing-room idlers like your late husband that they need to get their lazy arses to the Lords,’ Coopley added. ‘Find out what is going on, with the most important decisions to be made in four hundred years about to voted on! A crusty old curmudgeon like me couldn’t persuade them half so easily as a lovely and eloquent lass.’

‘I appreciate your confidence, my lord,’ Faith said. ‘I shall certainly do my possible to encourage every peer to attend.’

At Lord Coopley’s endorsement, Davie could almost see Faith’s self-confidence grow. More appreciative of the crotchety old gentleman than he’d ever been previously, Davie felt as proud as an anxious tutor whose student has just passed a difficult exam. How right he’d been to encourage Faith to attend this gathering!

How sad he was that the ladies were about to withdraw, ending this special evening with her. But there was no way he could leave now and escort her home without arousing a great deal of unwanted speculation.

‘Will you stay for tea, Duchess?’ their hostess was asking as Faith walked over to meet her.

‘No, I should return to my boys.’

‘Then I shall retire as well. Shall I have Rains summon your carriage?’

‘He could have a footman find me a hackney. The Dowager was using the carriage tonight.’

‘Ah, I see. I’ll have him get your wrap. Mr Smith, would you be kind enough to keep the Duchess company until her hackney arrives? I’m sure these gentlemen could spare you for a few minutes.’

Davie’s gaze shot to his hostess, who gave him a quick wink. ‘I’d be honoured. Duchess?’ He offered Faith his arm, stifling the sigh of delight that nearly hissed through his teeth when she laid her hand on it.

As he led Faith out behind their hostess, Giles gave him a concerned look, Coopley a questioning one. After the courtesy of farewells, however, the other gentlemen ignored them, becoming consumed once again by their debate.

* * *

‘Thank you, Maggie,’ he whispered to his hostess a short time later, while the butler was assisting Faith into her evening cloak. ‘For dinner, and this.’

She nodded, but her look was speculating and her eyes were sad. ‘Just remember your promise. Friendship only.’

‘Friendship,’ he repeated, even as his traitorous body stirred and hardened. Memories of holding her flashed through his head—the softness of her body against his, her golden hair under his cheek—and sent desire spiralling.

The butler exited to order the hackney, Faith walked back to them, and their hostess turned to her. ‘I’m so pleased you enjoyed the evening, Duchess. I hope you will join us for many more—and call here often. There is work we can do together!’

‘I would like that very much. But you must call me Faith, then.’

‘I would be honoured! And you must call me Maggie, as Mr Smith, does.’

‘I, too, would be honoured by your friendship.’

Maggie nodded. ‘That’s settled. I’ll bid you both goodnight—and count on seeing you both again soon!’

With that, bows and curtsies were exchanged, and Maggie ascended the staircase, leaving him alone with her.

How to best use these precious few minutes?

A radiant smile on her face, Faith stepped nearer. It took every bit of self-control he could muster not to close the distance between them and take her in his arms. Or at least, take her hands in his.

Somehow, he made himself stop. The mere inches of air separating them vibrated with sensual tension, making his heart pound so hard in his chest, he thought surely she could hear it.

Slowly, while he gritted his teeth with the effort to remain motionless, she reached out a hand and gently stroked his cheek. ‘Thank you for tonight, my sweet Davie,’ she murmured. ‘I haven’t felt so...energised, and appreciated, and alive, since...’

Since I held you in my arms a week ago, he thought, consumed with the need to take her again. But he’d promised...something.

‘Well—for a long time,’ she finished. She went up on tiptoe, and for an instant, he had the wild hope that she would kiss him again, as she had when he’d escorted her home that night. Then, as if realising how inadvisable that was, she returned to her feet.

For long, endless moments, they stood frozen, staring at each other from a hand’s breadth apart. He devoured with his gaze every curve and angle of her sweet face, every plump contour of the lips he hungered so much to taste, the desire pulsing through him stronger than he’d ever experienced.

And then, with a little sigh, she angled her head up, offering her lips, her eyes drifting closed, as if she were as helpless to resist the force between them as he was.

Heaven knew what idiocy he might have committed, had the butler not chosen that moment to stomp back in, announcing the arrival of her hackney.

The man’s voice sent a shock through him, and they both stepped back. ‘Your hackney, Duchess,’ he repeated inanely, seized by a looming sense of loss.

‘When will I see you again?’ she whispered, voicing the thought that consumed him.

‘Perhaps...perhaps,’ he replied, thinking rapidly, ‘I could escort you to visit your sister, in Highgate. Englemere doesn’t come to town every day, I imagine. I could...bring him some committee reports.’

‘Yes!’ she said, her eyes lighting with enthusiasm. ‘I would like that.’