Page 37 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke

He made his way to the foyer, where he took his coat from the footman. Bundling himself in the coat, he walked towards the gardens, contemplating the discussion he had just had with Simon.

Yes, he had visited Cynthia, but that very visit had concluded with him ending his relationship with the beautiful actress.

He had arrived at the apartment he had rented for her, and she had welcomed him warmly, wearing nearly transparent undergarments that ordinarily would have set the mood for a night of a delightful romp between the sheets. But curiously, as he watched her that day, he felt no stirring in his gut. Not even when she had stripped naked, climbed onto his lap, and worked her seductive wiles on him. He felt no desire at all. Instead, he felt dirty and tawdry. At one point, he had to pull the beautiful woman off him, ignoring the wounded look on her face.

He had apologized and then given her money and an emerald necklace for her troubles, and she had accepted it, expressing her understanding and respect for his decision.

Richard had been grateful for the quiet dissolution because in his experience, ending relationships with mistresses was usuallymessy, and he was grateful that Cynthia had been accepting and mature about the separation.

By the time he arrived at his home that night, he had finally acknowledged the truth—Catherine had ruined him for any other woman, and it was troubling. Very troubling, indeed.

Chapter Twelve

“Iheard you also enjoy books on botany,” Lord Livingston commented with a smile.

“I do. It is one of my interests,” Catherine confirmed, grateful they had finally found common interests. “I particularly love evergreens. The science of them is so…”

“Mysterious?” he supplied.

“Indeed.” She laughed.

“I have a few palm seedlings in my London residence that I will be transplanting soon. Would you like to see them?” he offered. “My gardener is unavailable, so I would have to do it myself. I do hope you’re not one to squirm at the sight of dirt. Gardening is a messy job.”

Her eyes widened both in surprise that he would enjoy doing manual work and the prospect of seeing the seedlings.

“Not at all, My Lord. I would love to,” she answered with a broad smile that startled him. “I’m just surprised that you wouldn’t mind getting your hands dirty.”

He visibly preened at her admiration. “I am a simple man. When I’m not in town for the Season, I get to do all the planting I want at my country estate.”

“That is really nice to hear.”

“Do you garden yourself?” he inquired.

“No, but I am usually present when new roses are transplanted.”

And it wasn’t for lack of interest. Her mother would have thrown a fit if she had gotten any of her dresses dirty.

Not that it stopped her. A number of times, she had bribed the gardener to let her handle some of the less dirty work, but she would never let Lord Livingston know that in case he was a man who didn’t appreciate ladies who liked manual work.

“Oh, I will have to remedy that.” He laughed. “Perhaps I’ll invite you to my country estate so you can be away from the watchful eyes of the ton.”

He winked at her, and she laughed.

“I still think my chaperone would have a lot to say about me playing in the dirt, My Lord.”

He laughed again, slapping his thigh, and she straightened up, feeling proud that she had caused the most proper of men to break character.

“You are an absolute delight, Miss Burlow,” he commented.

“Thank you, My Lord.” She curtsied to him.

“I… It is my pleasure,” he stammered, his ears turning red. “Would you… would you like to dance, Miss Burlow?”

Catherine placed her hand in his and nodded once. Although she’d said she wanted a quiet match, she realized she might not mind a man she could be cordial with.

Lord Livingston looked like a man she could actually enjoy being married to, but there was still a lot she needed to know about him.

“I would love to.” She smiled, handing him her dance card.

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