Page 71 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
“I can’t help but be afraid that...”
A momentary tremor of unease crossed her features. “Afraid of what?” he asked.
“That with our return to London, everything will... go back to how it was.”
He smiled. “That is because I was an arse in London. I will endeavor to put that behind me.”
She smiled back before becoming somber again. “I, too, was a bit irresponsible.”
“But now we know what we can have with a little understanding and perseverance,” he teased.
“True.”
“Our future together will be what we make of it.”
The mischief returned to her eyes. “Then it will certainly include more nights like last night.” Her hand moved down his chest, intent on reaching the very evident erection that she could likely feel through the layers of their clothes.
“And days,” he said, lifting her against him and eliciting a giggle from her as he swung around to sit her on his desk.
Kissing her, he made short work of moving his hand under her skirt, half considering if they had time to do more, when a sound from the door had him spinning around, shielding August from the intruder.
Elizabeth stood there with her arms crossed over her chest and a knowing scowl on her face. “Mother sent me to find you. She says if you do not leave now you will miss your train.” He opened his mouth, but she spoke before he could. “It would be rude in the extreme to make an entire train wait for you.”
“What is the point of inheriting a dukedom if one cannot indulge oneself at times?”
Elizabeth laughed, August raised a brow, and he had a startlingly clear vision of his future. For the first time in his life the view was beautiful. “Leave us so that I can finish saying goodbye to my betrothed.”
***
Another storm came through after Evan left, so instead of leaving early they stayed the entire week, while repairs were made farther downtrack. August didn’t mind, because, despite its faults, she was coming to see the charm in the oldpile of stones. She had found herself wandering through the rooms and viewing them with an eye that was becoming increasingly proprietary. She made checklists in her mind of the refurbishments that would need to be addressed first and even talked to Mr. Hughes about the roof so that he could begin to gather figures for its much-needed replacement.
Each night found her making her way to Evan’s bedroom. She wandered through his dressing room to run her fingertips over the varied fabrics and textures hanging in his armoires. They were very masculine fabrics, heavy and thick. She sat on his bed and smelled him there, and imagined that they shared this bed together. Those thoughts always made her feel heated and alive and excited to see him again. Not one part of her regretted what had happened between them in the library.
The feeling of unease, however, had not left her. It stayed with her through the nights in his bedroom and the train ride home. She told herself that it was because she had begun to look at her family differently. Her parents had been willing to force her to marry Evan at the expense of her own needs and wants, and she still did not know how to reconcile that with what she thought she knew about them. But there was more.
August did not know how to identify this new person she would become. Duchess of Rothschild. It was a stranger’s name.
These thoughts consumed her when she walked into the townhome on Grosvenor Square. Before taking off her gloves, she hurried to the silver tray on a side table that held correspondence. A quick flip through the various invitations and notes revealed nothing from Evan. Disappointment swelled inside her.
“Maxwell!” Violet’s surprised voice rang out as Max hurried down the stairs to greet them. He was dressed as if he had spent the day out.
“Maxwell?” August and her mother echoed.
Violet stopped halfway through tugging off her gloves and threw herself into his arms. “How long have you been here?”
“I arrived yesterday.” He greeted each of them in turn,catching August’s eye with a question in his. “I was told that everyone was spending a week at the Duke of Rothschild’s estate. How was it?” His gaze then went to August’s hand, which was absent a betrothal ring.
“Both dreadful and marvelous if you can believe that,” said Mother. “The place is practically falling down around them, but it’s so huge. And filled with Rembrandts and Titians and, my God, I think some of the furniture is Georgian, possibly even older.” She held a hand to her chest.
“Calm yourself, Millie. You’ll give yourself apoplexy,” Papa teased. “We have El Greco, Titian, and van Dyck at home, along with, and I cannot say enough how important this next point is, indoor plumbing.” He laughed loudly at his own jest.
“Of course, dear. I am simply beside myself with joy.” Her gaze narrowed in mock frustration as she turned her attention to Max. “I suppose I don’t need to ask what brings you to London.” She hugged him and kissed him on each cheek. “I’m afraid to say that your father is right about the lack of plumbing. I’ve been waiting days to freshen up properly. Give me an hour and then I want to hear all about your crossing. I trust it was uneventful?”
Max nodded. “Very uneventful, Mother.”
“Good. I am happy to report that our time here has not been uneventful.” She raised a knowing brow at August. “We are expecting good news any day now.” With those promising words, she left them and retreated to her bedroom upstairs.
“Is there no news, then?” asked Max. “No betrothal?”
