Page 65 of How to Ruin a Duke
And the gardener’s shed.
And the saddle room.
For several years thereafter, she’d told herself that she’d had a near miss, and in exchange for bruised pride, she’d had a precious and rare education.That education had stood her in good stead when she’d become a duchess’s paid companion, and rakes and roués had besieged her even under her employer’s roof.
Nothing had prepared her for the Duke of Emory bearing sandwiches though.
Edith took up an orange, one of four the duke had brought along with sandwiches, lemonade, meat pastries, and shortbread.His generosity meant she needn’t pawn her earbobs today, but that day would soon arrive.She rolled the orange between her palms, enjoying the texture and scent of fresh citrus, a pleasure she’d too long taken for granted.
From most men, a request for a kiss would have been easily brushed aside, but Emory needn’t ask anybody for anything.He was a duke, a wealthy, powerful man who had better things to do than share a porch picnic with an impoverished spinster.And memories of him—lounging on the loveseat, pacing the parlor, standing in the rain on her front stoop—had kept her awake late at night.
“You’d like me to kiss you again?”Edith would enjoy kissing him, of that she had no doubt.
“I would, or I could kiss you.The point is,”—he tossed the last of his sandwich crust to the cooing pigeons—“your kiss has been on my mind.”
“You have been on my mind too.You and your situation.”
He plucked the orange from her grasp and tore off a patch of the rind.“My damned situation seems to be growing worse by the week.I receive only the courtesy invitations these days, and when Mama drags me to Almack’s, I’m the only wallflower ever to sport a ducal title.”
Watching him peel an orange ought not to have been an erotic experience, but such was the attraction of Emory’s hands—strong, competent, masculine—that Edith let herself gawk.
“Even the patronessesat Almack’sare turning up their noses at you?”
“Not explicitly, but those women excel at innuendo, and there was that business about singingGod Save the Kingon the steps of the assembly rooms.”
He popped a bit of orange rind into his mouth and shredded another piece to scatter on the paving stones.The birds leapt upon those offerings, nimble little sparrows joining the pigeons.
“According to the book, you sang after midnight, when the doors were already closed.”Edith would have liked to have heard him, and liked to have seen the looks on the faces of his audience when he’d held forth.
“I timed my aria for when the orchestra was blasting away on some waltz or other, so I know I wasn’t heard inside, but still… Not well done of me.”
“Why did you do it?”
He spread out a table napkin and separated the orange into sections.“One of Jeremiah’s more foolish friends dared him to serenade Almack’s with a drinking song, at midnight, in full voice.Other fellows joined in the nonsense and soon bets were flying in all directions.Had Jeremiah stepped up to the challenge—and you know how little regard my brother has for rules—he might well have been barred from the dances for the rest of the Season.Mama would have been wroth, a petty war would have begun… but my folly was sure to be overlooked, or so I thought.”
“Because you are a duke.”
“Because I am a duke, and because, until recently, nobody would have believed me capable of such nonsense.Besides,God Save the Kingis regularly sung in every pub and tavern in the realm, and yet, who could object to that song at any hour in any location?”
“Nobody should object, but placed side by side with a half dozen other incidents, evenGod Save the Kingbecomes suspect.”Edith sensed a pattern to the tales told about Emory, a consistency regarding the direction in which each vignette was slanted to show him in disrepute, but she could not focus her thoughts on that puzzle.
Not when Emory held out the table napkin, the glistening pieces of orange offered like a bouquet.
“I want to kiss you,” Edith said, taking three succulent sections, “and indulge in rather more than that, but I am not interested in anything tawdry.”
Emory chose three pieces for himself and set the rest on the table.“You echo my own sentiments.My esteem for you is genuine, but also the esteem of a man who appreciates a woman’s intimate company.I am not in the habit of… that is to say… I respect you, and I flatter myself that you respect me as well, thus creating a foundation for rare and lasting goodwill.Jeopardizing your opinion of me is the opposite of my aim.Theveryopposite, if you take my meaning.”
If His Grace had ever kept a mistress, he’d done so discreetly enough that even the duchess,even Lord Jeremiah, hadn’t remarked it.His lordship would have mentioned such a topic purely for the pleasure of testing Edith’s composure.
The rotter.Edith nibbled a section of orange, enjoying everything from the juicy texture, to the sweet, sunny flavor, to the tart burst of citrus on her tongue.
“I am not without experience, Your Grace.”
“Neither am I, though my recollections of intimate congress are growing dim.”
This amused him, and it pleased Edith.“None of the scandals laid at your feet inHow to Ruin a Dukerelate to women.”Was that a coincidence or a clue?
“Another factor that leads me to believe the author is female.”
