Page 19 of The Duke
How inappropriate to have such a thought about a man,Elsie scolded herself. But that feeling wouldn’t leave her as they moved through the shallow waves and towards the pathway,she had scrambled down hours ago.
“I suppose,” Elsie said. There was a wobble to her voice as she stepped out of the water and onto the pathway. “This could be classed as a great adventure.”
Kit, who was a few feet ahead of her on his knees freeing Lancelot, glanced back at her. The look he gave her was one of scepticism and doubt. “I would hasten to correct that misconception. No one local comes down here. Your maid must have misunderstood what the household was talking about.”
“She knew I wanted to see the sea. Just not that close. Surely some people came down here, after all what about the cottage?”
“I told you it is said to be haunted.”
“I mean…” Elsie raised her hands to her arms and hugged them against her cold, clinging day dress. Now she was out of the water and out of the danger, her body was even more aware of her own tremors. “It does seem as if a haunting or a curse is a common theory in these parts. You would think everyone would have gotten bored or…” Her attempt at humour did not seem to land with Kit, who started shaking his head.
Striding closer, he placed his arm around her, it did not have the same kindness as it had in the cave, but almost seemed to scold her with his touch. With a forceful step he marched them both up the pathway towards the top of the cliff. Elsie was too self-conscious to utter any objection at how quickly they were moving.
“I really would recommend you staying at the manor house,” Kit said as they reached the cliff’s top. “It’s far safer.”
Elsie wondered if that was true. There were the cobwebs, the odd and distant staff, his unwell sister, and everywhere she turned he liked to bring up a curse or an ill omen. To her mind, the safest course of action was leaving the place as soon as possible. With that in mind, she turned her head and looked sideways at him. “How was yesterday’s work, clearing the road?”
“Slow.” Kit released her as he pulled off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders as he had done in the cave. “Come, miss. I will gather my horse, and you can sit on him back to the manor. That should warm you up a little.”
Miss?He wished to reinstate a proper formality, that much was clear, and Elsie had thought there was a moment of hope of at least a friendlessness between the two of them.
With a sigh, hiding any disappointment that any closeness they had created seemed to have slipped away, Elsie replied grandly, “Yes, of course, Your Grace.” Moving forward, she fell in step with him until they saw his horse tied to a tree. Kit—or His Grace, Elsie corrected herself—stroked the horse’s side and then turned to Elsie, his face expressionless. He seemed drained by today’s events—the forest’s dense greens created a dim light on him.
“Can I lift you up?” His tone was polite.
Mutely Elsie nodded, not knowing what else to say, and she found herself lifted up in the air and then placed in the saddle. Deposited there by him, before he walked around to the horse’s rein and started to lead them through the woodland.
Watching his straight back, Elsie knew she could say something, begin a conversation or she could at least try to. When she was better at being in society, something would spring to her mind. But nothing occurred to her. She could not think of how to begin with him as if he were a stranger, nor could she strike up a topic of talk referring back to the cave. His Grace didn’t want that—he had made that clear. So instead, she let her eyes linger on him, study his body, with an interest that was far from ladylike.After all she’d been cuddled up next to him, it felt defiant and rebellious to ogle him. It was an indulgence on her part but now she could, without the interruption of the water or the presence of the household trying to serve them dinner, she could allow herself the opportunity. Elsie noted the well sculpted shape of his legs, the heat of which had warmed her earlier. Her eyes trailed higher to his arse, which was rounded and held by some rather handsome buff-coloured trousers. For someone buried deep in the countryside, His Grace dressed very nicely. With a naughty idea slipping through her head, Elsie felt sure he would be even better without such items clothing him.
“Nearly there,” he said. He cut into her wanton meandering thoughts, and hastily Elsie lifted her eyes over him and out towards the horizon where the trees were starting to ease away and reveal the fields close by, and beyond that the manor house. It loomed there, cold, and large in its very stillness. It seemed to exist there, luring her closer without any alternative option of where she might go. A dead spot, her active mind suddenly burnt with the term, and unable to help herself she suppressed a shudder.
It should have been comforting to have the known sight of a building, where there would be beds, food, even a roaring fire to warm her up. That would have been the normal reaction, but instead for a wild moment, Elsie thought she would rather be back in the cave. Back with a gentleman who she didn’t know, but who both scared and thrilled her in equal measure.
“There you are, miss.” A great cry could be heard as her maid broke away from the shelter of the building. Samson crossed the gap towards them, her round face gleaming with fretfulness. “Everyone was worried, and they’ve been searching, but no one could find anything. Nor could anyone see you in the cove.” She looked between the two of them, noticing Elsie’s ripped skirt and the fact that she currently wore the duke’s coat.
“I think a hot toddy by the fire would be in order,” the dukesaid as he turned in the direction of the stable. There was the immediate shuffling of feet as several servants jumped to it once they had a directive. “Let me help you down.” He looked up at Elsie, and for one fleeting moment, their gazes locked. For all of his change in behaviour since they’d left the cove, there was something else there now. An emotion which Elsie could not entirely label or wish to pinpoint swirled in the depths of his eyes—there was pain, suppression too, of sensation that burnt beneath the surface within Kit’s face. What did he want her to know?
Unable to think of a response or something suitable to say, Elsie dropped her gaze, and the duke lowered her to the ground. The stable was full of people, their talk and questions clustering together. They would see the two of them in this state and assume a great deal.
She hastily pulled away from him and walked after her maid, the duke’s jacket still clamped around her. It was hard to concentrate on the manor house and the staring open-mouthed servants, watching Elsie in her torn dress and bedraggled appearance. Behind the pair of them followed Lancelot, seemingly unaware of the tension that ran through the surroundings.
Up the stairs and into the bedroom, it had been aired, and the curtains partly open, allowing in a soft breeze. The bedroom had been cleaned too, but there was a rather invasive element to the chamber—it created the impression of being intruded upon.
Someone had lit a fire before they arrived, and Samson set about slowly pulling off Elsie’s gown and hurriedly finding another dress should Elsie want to put it on. But Elsie refused, she was happy in her chemise with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. There was no desire within her to go downstairs and face or talk to the duke again.
“That will do the trick, a nice warm bath,” Samson said comfortingly as she looked at Elsie. It seemed like the little maid was feeling guilty for suggesting visiting the cove. She walked off to the door and had a silent conservation with the other servantwho’d come to the door. As they talked in low voices, Elsie walked away from the middle of the room. There was something to what Samson had said—a bath would improve the condition of Elsie’s body. What could be done about her scattered thoughts on the duke, well perhaps a bath might help with that too.
Sinking down on the edge of the bed, Elsie watched the interaction until Samson accepted the tray from the maid with a nod of her head. A glimmer of a smile touched Elsie’s lips as she saw that on the tray was a selection of sandwiches and the promised hot toddy, its golden liquid glinting in the late afternoon light. The duke had insisted that Elsie receive the drink, and there was something rather sweet about that gesture. Then again, perhaps a servant had just followed through on the duke’s request.
“The tub will be brought up soon,” Samson said. “They’ve promised it will be hot.” She lowered the tray down onto the nearest table. “Do you want me to stay with you, miss?”
“No,” Elsie said, “I will be fine until the tub arrives.”
Samson nodded and slipped out of the chamber.
With a sigh Elsie dropped back on the bed, hoping the cushioned surface would be soothing but as soon as her head landed, it brushed against a piece of paper. Rolling over, Elsie lifted the page up. It was not in an envelope, hastily scribbled and written across the cream surface. It read:get out whilst you still can.
CHAPTER 10
