Page 39 of His Tempting Duchess

“‘Nothing is more painful to the human mind than,’” the duke began, choosing his words carefully and speaking slowly, “‘after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope and fear.’”

There was a brief silence after that quote. Emily stole a look at him.

He was right. At least, the quote was correct. When one’s feelings were worked up, only to be dropped directly into a period of inaction, it was almostunbearable.

“I should like to see you again, Miss Belmont,” the duke said abruptly. His gaze was fixed on the road ahead, his profile cut sharply in the bright light of day. “I believe that you, like me, find Society stifling. I own one of your paintings, you know.”

She flinched, glancing up at him warily. “Woman In The Window?”

“No, no. A series of sketches. Your early work, I think. Not generally beloved by critics, but I found it endearing. A woman sitting at a window, staring miserably out at the garden beyond. I recall that a great deal was made of her fine clothing, her youth and beauty, and her wedding ring. And yet, despite all of these gifts, the woman has a miserable expression on her face. The next sketch shows her on her feet, peering out the window at something we cannot see. The third sketch is a little confusing, and the fourth one makes it clear—the woman is up on the windowsill, climbing out of the window. Only her skirts and her flailing legs remain inside.”

Emily bit her lip, hiding a pleased smile. “I called that oneThe Escape. It was not popular. One of the first pictures I tried to sell.”

“No, no, sketches generally are not. But you told a story in those pictures. I recall the way you used lines to signify movement, the lines of fabric of the skirts, the moving feet. One of the woman’s slippers had fallen off, I remember that. It’s a fascinating series.”

Emily eyed him carefully, trying to work out whether he was mocking her or not.

She decided that for now, at least, he was being truthful.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He inclined his head. “You should come and see it sometime.”

Emily glanced away, biting the inside of her cheek. “It wouldn’t be proper,” she murmured.

The duke stopped dead, turning to face her.

“Am I expected to believe that you care about that?” he asked, his voice low and earnest. “Are you telling me that you truly care about propriety and the foolish rules placed on us by Society? You must know that most people see these rules only as something to be circumnavigated. Why, do you believe that a woman stepping onto a balcony alone with a man, even for a moment, ruins herself beyond repair?”

Emily shook her head. “Of course, I don’t think that. I could hardly imagine that anybody does.”

“Oh, you would be surprised. My point, Miss Belmont, is that there is so much in the world that you have not seen, have not experienced. Worrying about what is proper and what is not will only rob you of the opportunity to observe it. Think of your art.”

She stared at him, bewildered. “What does my art have to do with this?”

Before she could react, he took a step forward.

Emily swallowed thickly, her eyes widening. He was too close to her. Entirely too close. Anybody could come by and see. Perhaps they couldn’t see how her blood thundered in her veins or how her pulse sped up at his proximity.

They certainly couldn’t see the most improper twinge of desire in her gut.

“Your art,” the duke murmured, his eyes dark, “is something new, my dear. Something different. Mesmerizing, thrilling. Nobody has seen anything like it before. If you were to step outside your ordinary sphere, what else might you be able to create?”

She gulped, her throat dry, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.

“What do you propose?” she whispered, at last.

He abruptly stepped back, and she let out a long breath as if she’d been holding it.

“Find a way to sneak out of your home tomorrow night,” he said brusquely. “I have something to show you. There is more to this courtship for you to explore, my hungry little artist. Leave your house and come to the main street. I shall pick you up in my carriage at the stroke of midnight. You’ll be returned before dawn. Don’t worry too much about your dress—wear only what is comfortable.”

He didn’t wait for agreement or any sign that she’d heard. Instead, the duke turned on his heel and began to stride off along the path, to where Daphne was now sitting on a sheltered bench.

Feeling as though the sturdy ground had opened up beneath her and dropped her into a void below, Emily stumbled after him. Her heart pounded, and her breath caught in her throat.

What nonsense. Of course, I won’t go along with it. Of course not. I shan’t meet him tomorrow night, not for anything.

CHAPTER13

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