The Ugly Duckling Debutante_FINAL-3 by Rachel van Dyken Page A

creature alive, drowning in my own misery.”
    Sai stopped walking and looked into his eyes. Her gaze was enough to send men to their knees in worship; instead he merely wanted to fall in adoration. She smiled and kissed his hand. “None of us is perfect, my lord. You should remember that before you are so quick to condemn yourself.”
    “Was that a compliment?” he pried.
    She laughed. “You’ve been given compliments all your life. Compliments are merely pretty words thrown at pretty people to make them feel better about their lot in life. No, Nicholas. It was not a compliment; it was a truth.”
    She stepped past him, picking up her skirts, and went to sit directly in front of the small duck pond. For the third time in this woman’s presence, he was speechless. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t care.
    He took his seat next to her and sighed. “Usually there are more ducks.”
    Her smile lifted to her cheeks, making him want to spend his life staring.
    “You mean there are usually more ducks than this one sad little fellow?” She pointed to a short squatty duck which had just lay down next to the water's edge. He seemed unbothered by their intrusion.
    Nicholas reddened. “Yes."
    “I guess that means you owe me,” she teased.
    “Owe you?” His voice cracked. “And just exactly what do I owe you, Mademoiselle?” He fought to keep his voice even and light.
    “Ducks,” she answered. “Lots and lots of ducks.”
    He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “I promise you, I will find you more ducks. Next time you feel like crying, let me know, and we’ll go hunting for ducks together—without pistols, naturally,” he added.
    Her smile wavered, reminding him once again that he was the one reason for her sadness. Fear gripped his chest just as a heavy weight of agony pressed down on him, paralyzing his thoughts. Would he never be rid of the guilt? Just watching Sai brought back all the sweeping memories of last night. He’d never felt bad about a kiss before. In fact, he hadn’t even felt like a terrible person for kissing married women, so why did it now feel like the guilt was eating him alive?
    She picked a flower next to her and twisted it between her fingers. He was going insane, because in that moment he even felt jealousy for the tiny flower. What would it feel like for her fingers to twist into his hair during an embrace? His body warmed at the inappropriate thoughts swarming around in his head.
    The old Nicholas Renwick would have laughed in his face; he was aroused by a flower. A flower ! He really was going mad. He had done and seen it all, yet the way this woman held the particular flower between her hands was enough to inspire him to write sonnets. He cursed himself silently and took a deep cleansing breath.
    “Are you well, my lord?” Sai asked.
    Naturally, the breath he just inhaled was thick with her scent, the smell of sugared lemons and the purest green grass.
    “Fine,” he croaked.
    “Are you feeling ill again?” She lifted her hand, though still gloved, bless the Lord, to his forehead and tilted her head. “You don’t feel warm.”
    He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by an approaching man. “Do my eyes deceive me, or do I see the reformed rake Lord Renwick having a private chat with the talk of the ton ?”
    Nicholas closed his eyes in protest; maybe if he couldn’t see Rawlings, then Rawlings would become bored and disappear back into the hole he crawled out of.
    He opened one eye and saw both Rawlings and Sai staring curiously at him. Mad, he was mad. He pushed himself off the ground and shook Rawlings’ hand. “I’m afraid the rumors are true.”
    He nodded toward Sai who curtsied sweetly. When Rawlings gingerly took her hand and kissed it, his eyes spent too much time focused on her bosom than on her hand like propriety dictated. Nicholas’s mood darkened.
    Rawlings lifted a calculating eye toward Nicholas and smiled before returning his