Page 33 of Would I Lie to the Duke
Noel pulled off his greatcoat and settled it overher shoulders. It engulfed her, and she objected, “I’m dragging it on the ground. It will get dirty.”
“My valet, Beale, is entirely too conceited. Cleaning mud off my coat will set him down a peg.” They came to the edge of the river, and he carefully seated her on a crate. “Better?”
She drew in a breath, then made a face. “I understand what you mean about the river’s scent. Yet it is better.” For a moment, she was quiet, then asked, “Do you think anyone noticed?”
“Trask saw us leave, but he was the only one. You needn’t worry. He’s not the sort to gossip.”
She kept her gaze trained on the water, watching the comings and goings of ships and boats and all manner of other water-faring vessels. “It’s not gossip that concerns me. I don’t—”
“Don’t what?” he urged gently.
“I don’t like to be seen as vulnerable,” she blurted, then clamped her lips together as if embarrassed by her outburst.
He felt his brows lift. “But you’re human. Of course that means that sometimes you must be vulnerable.”
“Doesn’t mean I like it,” she muttered.
“I don’t like it, either.” He clicked his tongue. “What if people realize that the Duke of Rotherby is only a godlike being, and not actually a god?”
“They never will believe that,” she said drily.
He sobered. “A wise lady reminded me that being a dictatorial boor isn’t appreciated by others. And that sometimes there’s a benefit to be had in delving beneath the surface.”
“And doyouthink that?”
He shrugged as he watched a man on a skiff navigate between huge tall-masted ships. “She’s shown me that life is an ongoing education. There’s always something new to learn, some new experience to have. For example, here we are, beside one of the busiest rivers in the world, full of ships going all over the globe, the heartbeat of the nation, and all I can think about is the curve of the back of your neck.”
She brought her hand up to gently touch her nape. The gesture was so tender, sovulnerable, it nearly brought him to his knees.
“Apologies,” he said gruffly. “You asked me to go slow—”
“Slow,” she said, turning to look up at him, her eyes bright, “notstop.”
He curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. “As you wish, Lady Whitfield.”
“My name is Jessica, but my friends and family call me Jess.” She bit her lip, then offered, “You may, as well. If you like.”
“I would,” he answered readily. It was a gift, her name, and he held it tightly. “The names my friends call me aren’t suitable for mixed company, but I’d be honored if you would call me Noel.”
“Noel,” she repeated. The single syllable had never held such music before as it did coming from her lips.
They were silent together, though the noise from traffic along the river made the moment anything but quiet. He held himself very still, as though by remaining motionless, he could preserve this span of time,stretch it out into an infinite realm that contained him and her alone.
She exhaled. “I... had an experience with fire. I wasn’t hurt, but... it was frightening. I can still feel it, sometimes. Its heat. And I don’t care for sitting too close to the fireplace.”
“Understandable that the Graveses’ demonstration might elicit feelings of fear. You know,” he added, “I myself have a secret fear. I...” He cleared his throat. “I don’t like rodents.”
“Rats and mice and such?”
“The same,” he said stiffly. “When I was young, I found a mouse living in my mattress. My nurse took it outside and set it free, but I hated the thought that I was lying unconscious on its home. It might have even crawled on me when I was sleeping.” He suppressed a tremor of revulsion.
She rose to her feet. “In that case, let us head back to the others. And whatever you do, don’t look down.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a terrier-sized rat eating its luncheon about five feet away.”
It was remarkable how vanity could change one’s behavior. He knew with absolute certainty that if she hadn’t been there, he would have gagged and in general made an ass of himself in front of the entire London docks.
