At the Duke’s Pleasure (19 page)

“Do you?” Claire asked with a slight smile.

“Oh, definitely. It’s about time my brother fell in love. And with such a wonderful woman too.”

Claire’s brows drew tight.
Love? He doesn’t love me.

If Mallory had heard Edward dressing her down today in the park, she wouldn’t be crediting him with any such tender emotions. But Mallory was a romantic who saw love behind every glance and sigh. Because of her own personal happiness, she assumed everyone was happy. But Mallory’s comments about her brother were nothing more than wishful thinking, and Claire couldn’t afford to let herself believe otherwise. Nor could she let herself forget for an instant what it was she must do. As she had told him today, their battle was far from finished.

“Yes, well,” Claire said, glancing briefly away, “we shall see what sort of expressions of affection he evinces at today’s nuncheon party. Will it be growls or glowers, I wonder?”

Mallory laughed, the sound drawing a smile from Claire. “In the meantime,” Claire said, “you must advise me on which bonnet to wear. I have narrowed it down to my top three favorites, but I just can’t decide.”

“Show them to me at once,” Mallory agreed with enthusiasm. “You know I love nothing so much as perfecting an ensemble. Let us see which one will turn you out at your stylish best.”

“W
ould you care for anything further?” Edward inquired later that same afternoon.

Seated beside him on a surprisingly comfortable blue-and-white checked lawn blanket, Claire sent him a glance from beneath the short straw brim of her basket bonnet, its lemon silk ribbons left long to dangle becomingly over her bodice.

She and Mallory had decided on the hat because the light color and airy construction seemed in keeping with the event. Based on the warm late spring air, they had chosen well.

“Thank you, no, I’ve had more than sufficient,” she stated, laying her plate aside. “You oughtn’t to have encouraged me to try the strawberry tart at all. It was too delicious by half.”

“The first berries of the year are never to be missed, or the fresh clotted cream. I can ask one of the footmen if there are any more.”

“Don’t you dare. As it is, I fear I shall be overcome and need a nap at any moment.”

A dark gleam shone in his eyes. “Everyone is resting. I am sure no one would mind if you shut your eyes for a few minutes. Here,” he said, leaning back against the tree under which they were sitting, “pray feel at your leisure to use me as a pillow.” Gently, he patted his thigh.

She stared. First at him and then surreptitiously at his heavily muscled thigh, unable to help but imagine how it would feel to lay her head in his lap. Her skin grew warm in ways that had nothing to do with the mild May temperature and plentiful sunshine.

And he accuses me of being scandalous.

But he was right that the lawn party had quieted down to a number of small lazy groups and gently murmuring couples, a few of the older ladies and gentlemen already stretched out and quite unashamedly asleep.

As for Edward’s mood, she couldn’t entirely fathom it. She’d expected him to be polite, but curt, still showing his displeasure over this morning’s curricle race. But when he’d met her and Mallory earlier in the entrance hall, he’d greeted them with a pleasant smile. And later, in the coach, he’d laughed with good humor at Leo and Lawrence’s round of stories, as the five of them traveled across Town.

She’d also assumed Edward would keep a close watch on her today, sticking by her side like a gaoler so that she didn’t attempt some new scandalous peccadillo. But although he had been attentive, she hadn’t felt smothered or unduly watched, his actions no more or less what could be expected from one’s fiancé.

Yet that was exactly the trouble. Their relationship wasn’t typical and they’d never enjoyed a traditional courtship where he would have wooed her with flattering words and showy displays of attention, however false such attentions might ultimately have proven to be.

Surely that isn’t what he’s doing now?

Surely he wasn’t trying to woo her in order to win their war?

Of course she was probably mistaken and he was only teasing her. Or maybe he was merely in a generous mood after having banned her from driving his curricle and he wanted to make a few small amends.

Raising an encouraging eyebrow, he patted his thigh again, inviting her to give in to temptation.

Suppressing a delicious shiver, she shook her head. “I believe I would fare better with a walk rather than a nap. If you prefer to remain here, however, I can see if Mallory might like to join me.”

As if sensing that she was being spoken about, Mallory glanced up from where she sat several feet distant, sharing nuncheon on another blanket with Adam Gresham. Mallory smiled and waved.

Claire waved back.

“I shall take you,” Edward said. “A walk would do me good as well.”

Standing, Edward helped her to her feet, then offered his arm. Taking it, she let him lead her across the grassy lawn.

“Determined to keep me out of trouble, Your Grace?” she remarked.

He met her gaze and smiled. “Always. But let’s not get into that at the moment. It’s a beautiful day, far too pleasant to quarrel. I won’t even correct you about my name.”

“Ah. How very forbearing of you,” she said in a guileless tone.

A laugh rolled from his throat. “You are irrepressible, aren’t you?”

“When it suits me.”

“Well, believe it or not, it suits me too.” He tucked her hand closer against his arm. “So long as you aren’t demonstrating that particular trait for broad public consumption, that is.”

“I thought we weren’t going to—how did you put it?—‘get into that’ at the moment.”

A gleam sparkled in his vibrant blue eyes. “Quite right, and so I did. What other topics might we discuss then, do you think?”

“There are all the usual ones, of course,” she stated. “The weather, although I believe you already voiced your opinion on that, and I agree, it is lovely today. We could talk about the party, making mention of all the couples in attendance and what a delightful event it has been. Or we might each venture a comment or two regarding the excellent health and beneficent nature of our hostess. Lady Harold does cut a fine figure today in her Spitalfields silk gown. Puce quite becomes her, do you not agree?”

He threw up a hand on a laugh. “Enough.”

“Oh, so you’d rather converse on loftier subjects then?” she said with mock seriousness. “Art, music or literature perhaps? What about history or politics? Although, as a woman, I am to pretend a polite ignorance on such topics and act as though my mind is too frail to absorb the elements of difficult, manly debate.”

Slowing his pace, he shifted to meet her gaze. “There is nothing in the least frail about your mind, my lady. And you are never to pretend ignorance on any subject, not with me. You may always say exactly what you wish while in my company.”

She paused, her lips parting on a soft inhalation. “Even if we disagree and my remarks make you cross?”

A faint smile played over his mouth. “Yes, even then. And so far I haven’t noticed you caviling at the prospect of making me cross. You do it with astonishing frequency.”

“Do I? You rarely seem out of countenance.”

“Oh, believe me, I am. It’s just that I was trained from an early age not to wear my emotions on my sleeve. A peer is always in control of both his thoughts and feelings, no matter the provocation.”

His remark reminded her of Mallory’s earlier comment about Claire shaking him out of his usual reserve.
Does he hide himself?
she wondered.
Are there layers below the surface that he never reveals, not even to his intimates, his family?

Certainly he didn’t show them to her, and if her plan succeeded, he never would, he wouldn’t have the chance. Yet even were she willing to give him that chance, such things required time and familiarity. Even more, they took a willingness of spirit from both parties, since bonds of trust could not be formed by one person alone. Like love, such feelings must be given and returned, mutually nurtured, or else they would wither and eventually cease to exist at all. It would seem, then, that whatever secrets each of them kept, they were destined to remain their own.

“Well, you are always at liberty to express your anger with me,” she told him in a carefree tone.

Having reached the neatly manicured perimeter of Lady Harold’s rose garden, he drew them to a halt. “That’s very good of you. What about others?”

She cocked her head. “Other what?”

“Emotions?” he said in a deep rumble. “Have I your leave to express those as well?”

Suddenly she couldn’t quite catch her breath. “Of course. We must always be ourselves in each other’s company.”

An enigmatic expression came into his eyes. “Yes. I rather think we must.”

He leaned toward her.

Is he going to kiss me?
she wondered. Her heart hammered in anticipation, eyelids growing heavy. He drew nearer still, his gaze on her lips. But then he stopped and straightened, as if remembering they were not alone, dozens of other guests strolling around the property as well.

She expected him to escort her back. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been meaning to give it to you for days, but something always seemed to interfere. What that might have been, I can’t imagine,” he teased, as he handed her a small parcel wrapped in plain brown paper.

After barely a second’s hestitation, she pulled off the ribbon and tore open the wrapping. Inside lay a cube of wood, which had been cut and smoothed into a series of interlocking pieces.

“It’s a Chinese wood knot,” Edward supplied. “You take the pieces apart, then try to fit them back in order. You did say you like puzzles, as I recall.”

“Oh, I do!” She turned the polished cube over in her hand. “I’m half afraid of trying it though. What if I can never make it whole again?”

“You will. It kept me guessing for a while, but eventually I figured out the trick. You shall as well.”

She smiled. “Wherever did you get it? No wait, don’t tell me. Lord Drake.”

His eyes twinkled. “Correct on the first guess. Drake is always looking for interesting bits and pieces from around the world, so when he gave this to me, I immediately thought of you and had him procure another. I hope it brings you pleasure.”

“It will, I am sure. Thank you, Your—” Stopping, she started again. “Thank you, Edward.”

His mouth curved into a broad smile. “You are most welcome. And had I known a mere trifle was all it would take to convince you to use my given name, I would have presented you with one ages ago.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, do not get too used to it. You may yet be ‘Your Grace’ again. Unless you have more presents hiding somewhere on your person, that is,” she teased.

But instead of joining in her humor, he sent her a serious, inquiring look. “Would that make a difference, if I did? I am pleased to give you whatever you like, you know. You have only to ask and I shall do my utmost to see that it is yours.”

The smile fell from her mouth, her breath caught almost painfully inside her chest. She stared at the puzzle block with which she had been so delighted. Now it felt hard and cold, lifeless like her heart.

Unable to look at it anymore, she squeezed the puzzle tightly inside her palm. “Generous as your offer may be, I am not one to be swayed by the acquisition of physical things. What I find most important are those intangibles, which can neither be bought nor wrapped with ribbon and paper. But apparently you know me even less than I had imagined.”

“Claire, you’ve misconstrued—”

“I believe I should like to go back now, if you would be so good as to escort me.”

The muscle grew taut in his jaw. “You know I did not mean—”

“Very well then,” she declared, gazing away from him across the lawn. “I shall go on my own.” She’d taken three steps before he caught her.

“You’ll do no such thing,” he said. “As for this other matter, we shall talk of it later.”

But there was nothing about which to talk, she realized with a weary sigh. Did he really imagine he could shower her with gifts and the strife between them would be over? Did he honestly believe her reasons for wanting to be free of this engagement were so thoughtless and superficial that
possessions
would change her mind? Well, if her initial pleasure in his company had put any chinks in her wall of resolve, he’d just neatly plastered them up again.

They spoke not a word as he led her back to the center of the festivities. By now, everyone had finished their meals and their naps, and were once again engaged in a variety of amusements.

She and Edward had been back for less than a minute when their hostess approached, her purplish-brown skirts swaying around her plump ankles.

“Your Grace, Lady Claire,” the older woman said, “I do hope you are enjoying yourselves this afternoon. I couldn’t help but notice the two of you walking near my rose garden.”

Claire used the distraction to slip her hand off Edward’s arm.

“Yes, your grounds are exquisite, as are your flowers,” Edward replied, giving no indication that he noticed Claire’s desertion, although Claire was sure he had.

Lady Harold preened, her landscape a well-known pride and joy. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She hesitated for a brief moment, then continued on. “There is a group of us discussing great architects and I understand that your beautiful grounds at Braebourne were designed by Capability Brown himself.”

“In part. My father had many of the gardens expanded in his time as duke.”

“Oh, we would love to hear. Would you mind terribly joining our little conversation? And Lady Claire, I promise I shall borrow him only for the veriest little while, then have him right back to you. If His Grace is in accord, that is?”

“Of course you must go, Edward,” Claire said, sending Lady Harold a beatific smile. “Pray do not worry about me. I am sure I shall find some other means of entertaining myself during your absence.”

His brows drew sharp and he shot Claire a look, but as they both knew, there was nothing he could do to escape their hostess’s request. Not without appearing impolite, that is. “I should be honored, Lady Harold,” he said. “Please lead the way.”

With the older woman tittering at his side, Claire watched her squire Edward off across the lawn. He sent Claire one last glance over his shoulder, his warning to stay out of trouble clear in his gaze. Smiling, she waggled her fingers, then turned away.

Let him stew
, she thought.
It’s no more than he deserves.

Once he was out of sight, she let her shoulders droop, sighing softly under her breath as she studied the puzzle again. Running her thumb over the polished wood, she considered striding across the way to throw it into Lady Harold’s decorative fishpond.

She imagined doing just that, watching the block sink to the bottom and nestle unseen among the reeds. But such an act would be childish. Even more, she knew that her impulsiveness would only wound her that much more deeply. For in spite of Edward’s thoughtless words, she wanted his gift, stupid as such feelings might be.

“And what, dear lady, has put such a serious expression on your face?” asked a low masculine voice from just over her shoulder.