Page 39 of The Captive Duke
And the picture they made, two blond heads nestled together, the duke occasionally murmuring quietly to his daughter, gave Gilly an odd pang for Helene. This was lost to Helene, this simple outing to the stables with father and daughter, lost forever. Watering the flowers in the library, surreptitiously watching His Grace scratch out letters to his old army connections—many of them still on the Continent—that was lost too.
Peeling his oranges.
Kissing him. Reveling in the sandalwood scent of him. Feeling his heart beat with the firm, steady rhythm of a trotting horse.
“Come, Countess, there’s a lady asking to make your acquaintance,” the duke said. “I presented this one to Helene on the occasion of Evan’s birth.”
Gilly caught up to His Grace and peered over an open half door at a dainty golden mare with four white socks, a white blaze, and a flaxen mane and tail.
Gilly stretched out a hand to the horse. “She is darling. It’s a shame she’s not being ridden.”
“The lads no doubt dice for the privilege of taking her out,” Mercia said. “But she’s the right size for you. Helene disdained her because of her modest size.”
He said it casually, as if having such a generous lying-in gift disdained wasn’t of any moment, but Gilly had begun to wonder if anything Helene had said abouther husband was true. Perhaps a sojourn in the army had done him good, or perhaps Helene’s judgment had been less than objective.
The duke was not grim; he was serious, as a mature man might be serious.
He was not selfish; he was disciplined.
He was not a great brute, but rather a tall, handsome—if lean—man, whose kisses were the opposite of brutish.
And if he was a ravening lecher, Gilly saw no evidence of it. Helene had claimed he’d kept mistresses and conducted several liaisons simultaneously. Gilly hadn’t questioned where such lurid information came from, but had prayed Greendale might do likewise and leave her in peace.
“Child, your hour of liberty has flown,” the duke said, easing Lucy to her feet. “Will you join me here tomorrow? Perhaps we’ll put you on a leading rein, and let you have a turn on Damsel while the countess cheers you on.”
Lucy’s little face lit up, and she clapped her hands together as she nodded emphatically.
“We’ve an assignation, then, so be off with you.” The duke turned her by her shoulders and gave her a gentle shove. “Mind you go straight to the nursery, and don’t get your pinafore dirty on the way, lest Nanny and the countess be wroth with me.” He shook a playful finger at her, then blew the child a kiss.
Grim?
The girl scampered off, turning to wave at themfrom the barn door, then cutting a line across the gardens toward the house.
“She’s more animated for having you about,” Gilly said. “The entire staff is elated to have you home again.”
“Oh, quite. Risen from the dead and all that. Would you walk with me, Countess?”
He wrapped her hand over his arm, the ease of it giving Gilly a private pleasure. On those occasions when it had been necessary to walk with Greendale, he’d spent the entire promenade hissing criticism at her, while presenting a bland countenance to the world. Strolling on Mercia’s arm felt…peaceful.
And protected, the opposite of Greendale’s carping and threats.
“You’re silent. This makes a man nervous, Lady Greendale.”
“We’re sharing a roof, Your Grace, and we have been cousins by marriage. Might you call me Gillian? Nobody does anymore.” Not that Greendale had. His names for her had been…not worth recalling. Gilly leaned closer to her escort.
“Gilly is a pretty name.”
In his less vile moods, Greendale had called it a peasant name. “How long do you suppose you’ll stay, Your Grace?”
“Stay?” The duke snapped off a red damask rose, took a whiff, then passed it to her. “This reminds me of you.”
Another compliment?
“Stay here at Severn,” Gilly said, wanting to touchthe rose to her nose, but finding the impulse oddly intimate. “Before you leave.”
“I’ve quite sold out, Countess, and the only reason I’d set foot on the Continent would be if old army matters required it of me, and they well might.”
“But you’ve estates elsewhere. Business in Town, matters that will take you from Severn.” Part of her wanted him to travel on, lest she cross the line from kisses given out of friendship and comfort to kisses of a different nature.
