Page 36 of Secrets of a Duke's Heart
She tried to swallow but emotion clogged her throat. Love. That was what she felt for the man who stared solemnly back at her from an oil painting. The rest of him had changed from childhood to an adult, but his eyes remained the same. She’d thrown away the one thing she wanted because she was afraid.
Now who was the fool?
“Clarissa.” Nathaniel’s touch on her arm brought her back to the present. “We’re moving on.”
They toured a grand ballroom, a dining room that could seat fifty people comfortably, and a library that made Nathaniel’s look paltry in comparison.
“I could live in here,” she whispered to him.
“You could have,” he chuckled. “But you wouldn’t lower your standards to marry a mere duke. No, my exacting cousin held out for a prince.”
“Pfft. As if I’d even consider a prince.” She waved a hand. “You’re not going to let me live it down, are you?”
“Never. It’s far too entertaining to tease you about it.”
“Wait until your turn comes.” She grinned sweetly. “I vow to be positively merciless when you cock things up with Miss Shaw.”
All humor fled his face, which twisted into a scowl. “I’m not marrying a governess. I don’t even like the confounding woman.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Thaniel.”
He ignored her interruption. “Besides, I need an heiress. I should have gotten it over with years ago.”
“With that attitude I can hardly understand how you failed to attract a wealthy debutante.”
“I attracted them just fine, I’ll have you know. I simply didn’t want to marry any of them.”
They continued their friendly bickering as the housekeeper turned their group over to the groundsman for a tour of the gardens. Clouds darkened the sky overhead.
“We’d best make this a short visit. You’ll want to get to town before that storm breaks. To the pavilion and back.”
They wandered the well-cultivated rose garden and toured the garden maze, where Clarissa got so turned around she found herself separated from the rest of the group.
“Drat,” she muttered, contemplating how scratched up she would get if she tried to push through the hawthorn. Deciding against it, she took a turn, another turn, and suddenly burst out into an open field. This must be the opposite end of the maze from where she’d begun.
“Double drat.”
A fat raindrop landed on her cheek, somehow evading the brim of her bonnet to splash squarely onto her face. More followed it. Clarissa picked up her skirt and ran, skidding around the corner and darting as fast as she could to the end. Panting, she pushed onward, rounded the final corner and smacked into a wall of muscle. Strong hands gripped her upper arms.
“Miss Penfirth? What are you doing here?”
Thunder rolled overhead as she lifted her gaze and found Lord Montague scowling down at her.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
“Jude! I mean, Your Grace, I…” Clarissa trailed off. Rain pelted down, plastering the duke’s hair to his skull and turning his cravat translucent.
“The rest of your party is indoors. The young girl said a lady was lost in the maze. I just arrived ten minutes ago. I rushed out to help. I never expected it to be you.”
Clarissa didn’t know whether to laugh, curtsy, cry, or all three. “My cousin?”
“They said another man was out looking for you. Prescott, I assume.”
She wished this reunion was taking place anywhere other than in a rainstorm. A streak of lightning split the sky and turned the whole world a sickly shade of green. The duke jerked his gaze skyward.
“This way. I trust your cousin had the sense to take cover by now.” Jude took her hand and dragged her toward a round white shape not far in the distance. Within seconds they were inside a pavilion. Rain poured down from the circular roof in a curtain of water. If she could stop shivering, Clarissa might have found the situation romantic. Instead, all she felt was wet, cold, and embarrassed.
No, scratch that. She also felt awkward and apologetic, yet at a loss for words to express any of it.
