The Lost Duke of Wyndham Chapter Eight

And so he kissed her. He couldnt help it.No, he couldnt stop it. His hand was on her arm, and he could feel her skin, feel the around the bend warmth of it, and then when he looked overpower, her face was tilted toward his, and her eyeb on the whole, deep and blue that so completely unmysterious, were gazing up at him, and in truth on that point was no counsel simply no way he could do eachthing in that moment only kiss her.Anything else would fetch been a tragedy.There was an dodge to kissing hed long roll in the hayn that, and hed been t sure-enough(a) he was an expert. But this kiss, with this wo musical composition the nonpareil time it should have been art, it was all breathless nerves, because n of all time in his life had he wanted some one and only(a) in quite the manner he wanted young woman bedeck Eversleigh.And never had he wanted quite so oft to wee it all right.He couldnt scare her. He had to please her. He wanted her to want him, and he wanted her to want to know him. He wanted her to cling to him, to need him, to whisper in his ear that he was her hero and shed never want to so much as breathe the air keep out together(p) a nonher man.He wanted to taste her. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to drink in whatever it was that made her her, and divulge if it would translate him into the man he sometimes legal opinion he ought to be. In that moment she was his salvation.And his temptation.And everything in between. embroider, he whispered, his voice brushing across her lips. forbearance, he say again, because he loved saying it.She moaned in response, a soft whimpering sound that told him everything he wanted to know.He kissed her softly. Thoroughly. His lips and tongue found every corner of her soul, and then he wanted more. grace, he said again, his voice hoarser now. His hands slid around to her back, pressing her against him so he could feel her body as a part of the kiss. She was non corseted under her g birth, and every lush curve became known to him, every warm contour. He wanted more than the shape of her, though. He wanted the taste, the smell, the touch.The kiss was seduction.And he was the one being seduced. blow up, he said again, and this time she whispered Jack.It was his undoing. The sound of his name on her lips, the single, soft syllable it shot through him like no Mr. Audley ever could. His mouth grew urgent and he pressed her more tightly to his body, too utmost gone to care that hed gone hard against her.He kissed her cheek, her ear, her neck, moving surmount to the hollow of her collarbone. One of his hands moved along the side of her rib cage, the pres certain(a) plumping her breast up until the upper curve was so scraggy to his lips, so tantalizingly NoIt was more of a whisper than anything else, but still, she pushed him away.He stared at her, his breath rushed and massive. Her eyes were dazed, and her lips looked wet and well-kissed. His body was thrumming with need, and his eyes slid down to her belly, as if he could somehow see through the folds of her dress, down, down to the V where her legs met.Whatever hed been feeling just then it tripled. Dear God, he spite with it.With a shuddering groan, he tore his gaze back up to her face. Miss Eversleigh, he said, since the moment called for some thing, and there was no way he was going to apologize. non for something that good.Mr. Audley, she replied, touching her lips.And he realized, in a single blinding moment of pure terror, that everything he saw on her face, every stun blink of her eyes he felt it, too.But no, that was impossible. Hed just met her, and beyond that, he did not do love. Amendment he did not do the heart-pounding, mind-fogging, overabundance of lustfulness that was so of cardinal confused with love.He loved women, of course. He liked them, too, which he was aware made him preferably unique among men. He loved the way they moved, and he loved the sounds they made, whether they were melting in his arms or clucking their disapproval. He loved how each one smelled different, and how each moved differently, and how regular so, there was something virtually them all as a group that seemed to brand them together. I am woman, the air around them seemed to say. I am most definitely not you.And give thanks heavens for that.But he had never loved a woman. And he did not have any inclination to do so. Attachments were messy things, given to all sorts of unpleasantries. He preferred to move from affaire to affaire. It fit his life and his soul much separate.He smiled. Just a little one. Exactly the sort one would expect from a man like him at a time like this.Perhaps with a little extra tilt in one corner. Just enough to lend some wry wit to his tone when he said,You stepped into my room.She nodded, but the motion was so slow he couldnt be sure she point realized she was doing it. When she spoke, there was a certain dazedness to it, as if perhaps she was talking to herself. I wont do it again.Now, that would be a tragedy. I wish you would, he said, offering her his most disarming smile. He reached out, and before she could guess his intentions, took her hand and raised it to his lips. It was certainly, he murmured, the most pleasant welcome of my day here at Belgrave.He did not let go of her fingers as he added, I very much enjoyed discussing that painting with you.It was true. He had always liked the smart women best.As did I, she answered, and then she gave her hand a gentle tug, forcing him to relinquish his hold. She took a few steps toward the opening, then paused, turning partway around as she said, The collection here rivals any of the great museums.I look forward to viewing it with you.We shall begin in the gallery.He smiled. She was clever. But just before she reached the door, he called out, Are there nudes?She froze.I was wondering, he said innocently.There are, she replied, but she did not turn around. He longed to see the color of her cheeks.Vermillion, or merely pink?In the gallery? he asked, because surely it would be impolite to ignore his query. He wanted to see her face. One last time.Not in the gallery, no, she said, and she did turn then. Just enough so he could see the sparkle in her eyes. It is a portrait gallery.I see. He made his expression appropriately grave. No nudes, then, please. I confess to a lack of desire to see Great-Grandfather Cavendish au naturel.Her lips pressed together, and he knew it was with humor, not disapproval. He wondered just what it would take to nudge her further, to dislodge the put-onter that was surely frothy at the base of her throat.Or, good heavens, he murmured, the dowager.She sputtered at that.He brought a hand to his forehead. My eyes, he moaned. My eyes.And then, bloody hell, he missed it. She laughed. He was sure that she did, veritable(a) though it was more of a choking sound than anything else. But he had his hand over his eyes.Good night, Mr. Audley.He re moody his hand to its proper place at his side. Good night, Miss Eversleigh. And then and he would have sworn hed been prepared to allow her to depart he heard himself call out, Will I see you at eat?She paused, her hand on the outer doorknob. I expect so, if you are an early riser.He absolutely was not.Absolutely I am.It is the dowagers favorite meal, she explained.Not the chocolate and the newspaper? He wondered if he remembered everything shed said that day.Quite perchance.She shook her head. That is at six. Breakfast is laid at seven.In the breakfast room?You know where it is, then?Havent a clue, he admitted. But it seemed a likely choice. Will you meet me here, to escort me down?No, she said, her voice dipping slightly with amusement (Or exasperation? He couldnt be sure), but I will arrange to have someone else lead you there.Pity. He sighed. It wont be the identical.I should hope not, she said, slowly shutting the door between them. And then, through the wood , he heard, I plan to send a footman.He laughed at that. He loved a woman with a genius of humor.At precisely six the following morning, grace entered the dowagers bedroom, holding the heavy door open for the maid who had followed her with the tray from the kitchen.The dowager was awake, which was no great surprise. She always woke early, whether the summer sunshine was slipping in around the curtain edges, or the winter gloom hung heavy on the morning. clemency, on the separate hand, would have gladly slept until noon if permitted. Shed interpreted to sleeping with her drapes open since her arrival at Belgrave the better to let the sunlight batter her eyelids open every morning.It didnt work very well, nor did the chiming clock shed installed upon her bedside table geezerhood earlier.She thought she would have adapted to the dowagers schedule by this point, but apparently her inner timepiece was her one rebellion the last little bit of her that refused to see that she was, and forever would be, companion to the dowager Duchess of Wyndham.All in all, it was a good thing shed befriended the housemaids. The dowager might have Grace to start her day, but Grace had the maids, who took turns each morning, slipping into her room and shaking her shoulder until she moaned, EnoughHow strange about Mr. Audley. She would never have pegged him for a morning person.Good morning, your grace, Grace said, moving to the windows. She pulled open the heavy velvet curtains. It was overcast, with a light mist, but the sun seemed to be making a good effort. Perhaps the clouds would burn off by afternoon.The dowager sat up straight against her pillows, queenly in her elaborately styled, domed canopy bed.She was nearly done with her series of morning exercises, which consisted of a flexing of the fingers, followed by a pointing of the toes, finishing with a twisting of her neck to the left and right. She never stretched it side to side, Grace had noticed. My chocolate, she s aid tersely.Right here, maam. Grace moved to the desk, where the maid had left the tray before hurrying off. Be wary, maam. Its hot.The dowager waited while Grace arranged the tray on her lap, then smoothed out the newspaper. It was only cardinal days old (three was standard in this region) and had been neatly iron out by the butler.My reading glasses.They were already in Graces hand.The dowager perched them on the tip of her nose, taking a gingerly sip of her chocolate as she perused the paper. Grace sat in the straight-back chair by the desk. It was not the most convenient location the dowager was as demanding in the morning as she was the rest of the day, and would surely have her hopping up and down and across the room to her bed. But Grace was not permitted to actually sit next to the bed. The dowager complained that it felt as if Grace were trying to read over her shoulder.Which was true, of course. Grace now had the newspaper transferred to her room once the dowager was t hrough with it. It was still only two and a half days old when she read it, which was twelve hours better than anyone else in the district.It was strange, really, the things that made one feel superior.Hmmm.Grace tilted her head but did not inquire. If she inquired, the dowager would never tell.There was a fire at Howath Hall, the dowager said.Grace was not certain where that was. I do hope no one was injured.The dowager read a few more lines, then answered, Just a footman. And two maids. And then a moment later The dog perished. Oh my, that is a shame.Grace did not comment. She did not trust herself to engage in early morning conversations until shed had her own cup of chocolate, which she was generally not able to do until breakfast at seven.Her stomach rumbled at the thought. For someone who detested mornings as she did, shed come to adore breakfast fare. If they could only serve kippers and eggs for supper each evening, shed have been in heaven.She glanced at the clock. Only fif ty-five more minutes. She wondered if Mr. Audley was awake.Probably. Morning people never awoke with only ten minutes to spare before breakfast.She wondered what he looked like, all sleepy and rumpled.Is something wrong, Miss Eversleigh? the dowager sharply inquired.Grace blinked. Wrong, maam?You chirped. She said this with considerable distaste, as if handling something with a particularly foul smell.Im so sorry, maam, Grace said quickly, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. She could feel her cheeks growing warm, and she had a feeling that even in the morning light and with the dowagers diminished vision, her blush would be clearly visible.Really, she should not be imagining Mr. Audley, and especially not in any state of dishabille. paradise only knew what sorts of inappropriate sounds she would make the next time.But he was handsome. Even when all shed seen of him was the lower half of his face and his mask, that much had been clear. His lips were the sort that always he ld a touch of humor. She wondered if he even knew how to frown. And his eyesWell, she hadnt been able to see those that first night, and that was almost certainly a good thing. Shed never seen anything quite so emerald. They far outshone the dowagers emeralds, which, Grace was still chagrined to remember, shed risked her life (in theory, at least) to keep safe.Miss EversleighGrace jerked upright. Maam? The dowager pierced with a stare. You snorted.I did?Are you questioning my earreach?Of course not, maam. The dowager abhorred the notion that any part of her might be susceptible to the usual impairments of age. Grace cleared her throat. I apologize, maam. I was not aware. I essential have, ehrm, breathed heavily.Breathed heavily. The dowager appeared to find that as appealing as she had Graces earlier chirp.Grace touched a hand lightly to her chest. A bit of congestion, Im afraid.The dowagers nostrils flared as she peered down at the cup in her hands. I do hope you did not breathe on my chocolate.Of course not, maam. The kitchen maids always carry the tray up.The dowager evidently did not find any reason to ponder that further, and she turned back to her newspaper, leaving Grace alone once more with her thoughts of Mr. Audley.Mr. Audley.Miss EversleighAt that Grace stood. This was acquire ridiculous. Yes, maam?You sighed.I sighed?Do you deny it?No, Grace replied. That is to say, I did not notice that I sighed, but I certainly allow that I could have done so.The dowager waved an irritated hand in her direction. You are most distracting this morning.Grace felt her eyes light up. Did this mean shed escape early?Sit down, Miss Eversleigh.She sat. Apparently not.The dowager set down her newspaper and pressed her lips together. Tell me about my grandson.And the blush returned. I beg your pardon?The dowagers right eyebrow did a rather good imitation of a parasol top. You did show him to his room last night, didnt you?Of course, maam. At your directive.Well? What di d he say? I am eager to mark off what sort of man he is. The future of the family may very well rest in his hands.Grace thought guiltily of Thomas, whom shed somehow forgotten in the past twelve hours. He was everything a duke ought to be, and no one knew the castle as he did. Not even the dowager. Er, dont you think that might be a bit premature, your grace?Defending my other grandson, are we?Graces eyes widened. Something about the dowagers tone sounded positively malevolent. I consider his grace a friend, she said carefully. I would never wish him ill.Pfft. If Mr. Cavendish and dont you dare call him Mr. Audley really is the lucid issue of my John, then you are hardly wishing Wyndham ill. The man ought to be grateful.For having his title pulled from on a lower floor his feet?For having had the good fortune to have had it for as long as he did, the dowager retorted. If Mr. oh, bloody hell, Im going to call him John Jack, Grace thought.If John really is my Johns legitimate so n, then Wyndham never really had the title to begin with. So one could hardly call it stripping.Except that he has been told since birth that it is his.Thats not my fault, is it? scoffed the dowager. And it has hardly been since birth.No, Grace allowed. Thomas had ascended to the title at the age of twenty, when his father perished of a lung ailment. But he has known since birth that it would one day be his, which is much the same thing.The dowager grumbled a bit about that, using the same peevish undertone she always used when presented with an argument to which she had no ready contradiction. She gave Grace one terminal glare and then picked up her newspaper again, snapping it upright in front of her face.Grace took advantage of the moment to let her posture slip. She did not dare close her eyes.And sure enough, only ten seconds passed before the dowager brought the paper back down and asked sharply, Do you think he will make a good duke?Mr. Au Grace caught herself just in time . Er, our new guest?The dowager rolled her eyes at her verbal acrobatics. Call him Mr. Cavendish. It is his name.But it is not what he wishes to be called.I dont give a damn what he wishes to be called. He is who he is. The dowager took a long gulp of her chocolate. We all are. And its a good thing, too.Grace said nothing. Shed been forced to endure the dowagers lectures on the natural order of man far too many times to risk provoking a repeat performance.You did not answer my question, Miss Eversleigh.Grace took a moment to decide upon her reply. I really could not say, maam. Not on such a short acquaintance.It was broadly true. It was difficult to think of anyone besides Thomas holding the title, but Mr.Audley for all his lovely friendliness and humor seemed to lack a certain gravitas. He was intelligent, certainly, but did he possess the acumen and judgment necessary to run an estate the size of Wyndham?Belgrave might have been the familys primary domicile, but there were coun tless other holdings, two in England and abroad. Thomas employed at least a dozen secretaries and managers to aid him in his stewardship, but he was no absentee landlord. If he had not walked every inch of the Belgrave lands, she would wager that hed come close. And Grace had substituted for the dowager on enough of her duties around the estate to know that Thomas knew nearly all of his tenants by name.Grace had always thought that a remarkable achievement for one brought up as he had been, with a constant emphasis on the Wyndham place in the hierarchy of man. (Just below the king, and well above you, thank you very much.)Thomas liked to present to the world the image of a slightly bored, sophisticated man of the ton, but there was quite a bit more to him. It was why he was so very good at what he did, she supposed.And why it was so callous of the dowager to treat him with such a lack of regard. Grace supposed that one had to possess feelings in order to have a care for those of ot hers, but really, the dowager had quite gone beyond her usual selfishness.Grace had no idea whether Thomas had returned the night before, but if he hadntwell, she wouldnt blame him.More chocolate, Miss Eversleigh.Grace stood and refilled the dowagers cup from the pot shed left on the bedside table.What did you talk about last night?Grace decided to feign obtuseness. I retired early. She tilted the pot back, careful not to drip. With your very kind permission.The dowager scowled. Grace avoided the expression by return the chocolate pot to its spot on the table. It took her an impressively long time to get it just so.Did he speak of me? the dowager asked.Er, not so very much, Grace hedged.Not very much or not at all?Grace turned. There was only so much interrogation she could avoid before the dowager lost her temper.Im certain he mentioned you.What did he say?Good heavens. How was she meant to say that hed called her an old bat? And if he hadnt called her that, then hed probably call ed her something worse. I dont recall precisely, maam, Grace said. Im terribly sorry. I was not aware you wished for me to take note of his words.Well, next time, do so, the dowager muttered. She turned to her newspaper, then looked up toward the window, her mouth in a straight, recalcitrant line. Grace stood still, her hands clasped in front of her, and waited patiently while the dowager fussed and turned and sipped and anchor her teeth, and then it was hard to believe, but Grace thought she might actually feel sorry for the older woman.He reminds me of you, she said, before she could think the better of it.The dowager turned to her with delighted eyes. He does? How?Grace felt her stomach drop, although she was not certain if this was due to the uncharacteristic happiness on the dowagers face or the fact that she had no idea what to say. Well, not completely, of course, she stalled, but there is something in the expression.But after about ten seconds of smiling blandly, it became apparent to Grace that the dowager was waiting for more. His eyebrow, she said, in what she thought was a stroke of genius. He lifts it like you do.Like this? The dowagers left brow shot up so fast Grace was surprised it did not go away off her face.Er, yes. Somewhat like that. His are Grace made awkward motions near her own brows.Bushier?Yes.Well, he is a man.Yes. Oh, yes.Can he do both?Grace stared at her blankly. Both, maam?The dowager began lifting and dropping her brows in alternation. Left, right, left, right. It was a singularly bizarre spectacle.I do not know, Grace said. Quickly. To cut her off.Very strange, the dowager said, returning both of her brows back to where Grace hoped shed keep them. My John could not do it.Heredity is very mysterious, Grace agreed. My father could not do this she took her thumb and lot it back until it touched her forearm but he said his father could.Aah The dowager turned aside in disgust. Put it back Put it backGrace smiled and said with perfect mildness, You will not wish to see what I can do with my elbow, then.Good Lord, no. The dowager snorted and waved toward the door. I am through with you. Go see to breakfast.Shall I have Nancy help you dress?The dowager let out the most amazingly long-suffering sigh, as if a lifetime of aristocratic immunity was just too much. Yes, she agreed gracelessly, if only because I cant bear to look at your thumb.Grace chuckled. And she must have been feeling especially bold, because she did not even attempt to stifle it.Are you laughing at me, Miss Eversleigh?Of course notDont, the dowager said sharply, even think about saying youre laughing with me.I was just laughing, maam, Grace said, her face twitching with the smile she could not keep contained.I do that sometimes.I have never witnessed it. Said as if this meant it couldnt possibly be true.Grace could not say any of the three rejoinders that immediately sprang to mind That is because you are not listening, your grace.That is b ecause I rarely have cause to laugh in your presence.orWhat of it?So instead she smiled warmly, even. Now this was strange. Shed spent so much of her time swallowing her retorts, and it always left a bitter taste in her mouth.But not this time. This time she felt light. Unfettered. If she could not speak her mind to the dowager, she didnt much care. She had too much to look forward to this morning.Breakfast. Bacon and eggs. Kippers. Toast with butter and marmalade, too, andAnd him.Mr. Audley.Jack.