Page 36 of His Darling Duchess
She looked at the two footmen standing unobtrusively against the wall, lowered her voice. “This is a conversation to be had in private.”
“I see.” For a moment, she thought he was going to put her off, but he nodded. “As you wish, my dear.”
She could not eat another bite of the delicious berry tart on her plate. Laying her fork down, she waited until Stowe put his down too, and then rose to her feet. As always, he offered his arm gallantly, and she curled her fingers around his elbow, feeling the thick muscles of his arm bunch beneath the smooth superfine of his jacket.
When they reached the parlour, she did not let go of his arm, causing Stowe to look curiously at her as he closed the door behind them. “Is everything all right, Aurelia?”
“I want you to kiss me.” She almost blurted it out, knowing she would lose her nerve and retreat into polite superficialities if she did not.
“What?” His black eyes opened very wide.
“We have been married almost a week complete, and you have not kissed me even once. You did not even kiss me on our wedding day.” She felt almost petulant about that; even knowing the circumstances of the match, her sisters had giggled thatsurely her husband would kiss her and how lucky she would be, for he was so very handsome.
Rhys was caught quite flat-footed; of all the things he might have expected Aurelia to want privacy to say to him, a request to kiss her was not among them. She looked him in the eye quite openly, though there was a tinge of bashful colour on her cheeks, and he very nearly threw caution to the winds, seized her in his arms and kissed her as she requested.
Instead he took a deliberate step back, causing her hand to slip from his arm, and walked away toward the fire, stopping before a single armchair. Hoping she would take the one opposite, though he could not in all politeness sit before she did.
Aurelia stared at him, and then, quite deliberately, walked instead to the chaise longue and seated herself. She did not sit in the manner he was accustomed to seeing her, however. Instead, she almost draped herself over the chaise’s arm, resting her delicately pointed chin on her hand.
“So, you do not wish to kiss me. That is disappointing.”
He almost choked, his knees weakening and causing him to almost topple into the chair. “That is not the case, Aurelia!”
“Then why are you all the way over there by yourself, and I am here?”
Rhys rather thought she was putting on an act, being so blatant in her invitation to cover her nerves. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly and he could see the fingers of one hand clenching against her skirts. It was a good show; she must have watched more experienced ladies at their flirtations and was doing her best to mimic their techniques.
“Because while we have been married almost a week,” he said gently, “we have been acquainted for rather less than two.”
“Oh.” She waved her hand airily. “That hardly signifies. Gentlemen have attempted to kiss me on the very first occasion of meeting me.”
“I beg to differ!” Rage welled up in him at the mere thought. “They most certainly were not gentlemen, if they attempted to do any such thing!”
Aurelia’s slightly petulant expression softened, and she pushed herself to sit upright, before getting to her feet and padding over to him. She had shed her slippers, he saw, leaving them beneath the chaise.
“I am coming to believe,” Aurelia said softly, “that in the whole of my life, and with the loving exceptions of my father and brother - I have as yet only met one true gentleman.”
She placed her hands on the arms of his chair and gazed into his eyes, and Rhys had never felt less gentlemanly.
“If you will not kiss me,” her voice was scarcely more than a whisper now, “I think I must pluck up my courage and kiss you.”
Rhys’ mouth felt as dry as the desert sands. He stared at Aurelia’s lips as she leaned in closer, feeling his heartbeat accelerating wildly, out of control. If she did it, if she kissed him, he was not at all sure he would be able to restrain himself. He could feel her breath against his lips…
A sharp knock on the door made Aurelia jerk back, and an extremely ungentlemanly curse spill from Rhys’ lips.
Whirling about, Aurelia almost fled across the room, snatching up a book from a side table and taking a seat almost as far from him as she could get, beside a many-branched candelabra on a side table. Snapping open the book, she pretended absorption in the pages as a second knock came.
“Come,” Rhys said loudly, aware his staff would surely not have interrupted them without good reason.
Mr. Ross, the butler, entered, eyes cast politely down. “I do beg your pardon, your grace, but you left instructions that you were to be advised immediately once confirmation of Lord Grantleigh’s whereabouts were confirmed.”
Aurelia’s loud gasp cut the brief silence which fell, and Rhys glanced across at her. She had allowed the book to fall to her lap, her face paling.
“And so, what news, Mr. Ross?” Rhys asked.
“Your man Lansdown has returned. I asked him to wait in your study.”
“Thank you.” Rhys rose to his feet, startled when Aurelia stood up too. He cocked a brow at her curiously.
