Boney here’s pulled a shoe.”
“Boney?” she asked.
“Short and arrogant like Bonaparte,” the duke replied, then stared hard at her while addressing the boy. “Tom, lad, take him back.”
“Do yer want me to return, sir?”
“Of course,” he said coolly. “Come back on old Posey, why don’t you.”
The boy tipped his cap and grinned, and led the small horse toward home.
“Well, as my sister always reminds me, white horses bring ill fortune.”
He threw one leg around the front of the saddle and slid down the side. Without a word he reached for her; his warm hands encircled her waist almost entirely.She flinched slightly. The strength in his arms and his nearness left her discomfited.
“Your sister is very superstitious.”
“Not really. We’re both just cautious.”
“And yet…”
“And yet what?”
“I hesitate to say,” he said.
“You’ve never hesitated before.”
He chuckled. “Quite right.” He took her horse’s reins and led them both to a patch of clover near a small stand of trees.
He stared at her shrewdly.
“You want me to tell you what I should’ve told you when I arrived the first day,” she said quietly.
He had that annoying way of remaining silent, making her feel even more tongue-tied.
She forced herself to say what she most wanted to hide. “You want me to deny that I was with your brother.”
She looked down at her hands and saw that she was pulling at one of the knotted threads of her string-backed gloves. She leaned against a small tree, and tried to ignore the rough bark digging into her back.
Not a whisper of a sound could be heard.
“Well, I can’t,” she said, looking him straight in the eye as she had never done before. “I brazenly offered myself to him.”
He took a step closer to her and she could see the muscle in his cheek working. “Henry had talent. Women were always throwing themselves at him. I had to work a bit harder at it.”
“Stop. You act as if it was nothing.”
“Well, was it?” he asked in that deep baritone voice that licked her insides.
She ignored his question and looked down at her ugly boots. “We were caught.”
“I see.”
He couldn’t possibly see at all.
“And this was where?”
“On the beachhead at Perron Sands.”
“That must have been uncomfortable. Never could understand the allure of sand and rotting seaweed. Should kill any desire.”
Anger gripped her. “I don’t doubt you know nothing about it, locked away in your library day and night. They say…” She stopped short, horrified.
His mocking smile appeared. “‘They’ being of course the razor-sharp intelligent Auggie Phelpses of the world? Tell me what they say.”
“That you’re a rake and a recluse with a notorious past,” she said, looking away. “But being somewhat of the same ilk, I don’t hold it against you.”
He chuckled. “Really? Why that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far, Rosamunde.”
“Thank you.” She played with a strand of her hair that was starting to come undone. “Pray, what do you do in your study all day? My sister tells me you’re almost never at any of the meals or entertainments.”
“You’re changing the subject quite expertly, my dear. After you were caught, what happened next?”
She looked away. “I refused his offer.”
“Why?”
“You may ask all the questions you like. But I might choose not to answer them.”
“Why,” he demanded.
“You’re determined to humiliate me. I’ve accepted my punishment. It’s enough.”
He stared at her. “Why?”
“Because he didn’t love me,” she nearly shouted. “There. Now you know it all, the full humiliation.”
He turned his back on her, leaned a hand against another tree and bowed his head.
He obviously found her repugnant in her shameless, ugly ways. She tried to find some comfort in it. At least he wouldn’t continue to single her out to amuse himself for some reason she couldn’t fathom.
“And did you love
“Boney?” she asked.
“Short and arrogant like Bonaparte,” the duke replied, then stared hard at her while addressing the boy. “Tom, lad, take him back.”
“Do yer want me to return, sir?”
“Of course,” he said coolly. “Come back on old Posey, why don’t you.”
The boy tipped his cap and grinned, and led the small horse toward home.
“Well, as my sister always reminds me, white horses bring ill fortune.”
He threw one leg around the front of the saddle and slid down the side. Without a word he reached for her; his warm hands encircled her waist almost entirely.She flinched slightly. The strength in his arms and his nearness left her discomfited.
“Your sister is very superstitious.”
“Not really. We’re both just cautious.”
“And yet…”
“And yet what?”
“I hesitate to say,” he said.
“You’ve never hesitated before.”
He chuckled. “Quite right.” He took her horse’s reins and led them both to a patch of clover near a small stand of trees.
He stared at her shrewdly.
“You want me to tell you what I should’ve told you when I arrived the first day,” she said quietly.
He had that annoying way of remaining silent, making her feel even more tongue-tied.
She forced herself to say what she most wanted to hide. “You want me to deny that I was with your brother.”
She looked down at her hands and saw that she was pulling at one of the knotted threads of her string-backed gloves. She leaned against a small tree, and tried to ignore the rough bark digging into her back.
Not a whisper of a sound could be heard.
“Well, I can’t,” she said, looking him straight in the eye as she had never done before. “I brazenly offered myself to him.”
He took a step closer to her and she could see the muscle in his cheek working. “Henry had talent. Women were always throwing themselves at him. I had to work a bit harder at it.”
“Stop. You act as if it was nothing.”
“Well, was it?” he asked in that deep baritone voice that licked her insides.
She ignored his question and looked down at her ugly boots. “We were caught.”
“I see.”
He couldn’t possibly see at all.
“And this was where?”
“On the beachhead at Perron Sands.”
“That must have been uncomfortable. Never could understand the allure of sand and rotting seaweed. Should kill any desire.”
Anger gripped her. “I don’t doubt you know nothing about it, locked away in your library day and night. They say…” She stopped short, horrified.
His mocking smile appeared. “‘They’ being of course the razor-sharp intelligent Auggie Phelpses of the world? Tell me what they say.”
“That you’re a rake and a recluse with a notorious past,” she said, looking away. “But being somewhat of the same ilk, I don’t hold it against you.”
He chuckled. “Really? Why that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far, Rosamunde.”
“Thank you.” She played with a strand of her hair that was starting to come undone. “Pray, what do you do in your study all day? My sister tells me you’re almost never at any of the meals or entertainments.”
“You’re changing the subject quite expertly, my dear. After you were caught, what happened next?”
She looked away. “I refused his offer.”
“Why?”
“You may ask all the questions you like. But I might choose not to answer them.”
“Why,” he demanded.
“You’re determined to humiliate me. I’ve accepted my punishment. It’s enough.”
He stared at her. “Why?”
“Because he didn’t love me,” she nearly shouted. “There. Now you know it all, the full humiliation.”
He turned his back on her, leaned a hand against another tree and bowed his head.
He obviously found her repugnant in her shameless, ugly ways. She tried to find some comfort in it. At least he wouldn’t continue to single her out to amuse himself for some reason she couldn’t fathom.
“And did you love
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