Page 61 of The Wayward Duke
He turned to nuzzle her cheek, breathing in her familiar scent. “On the desk, duchess. I don’t want to think about anything except you right now.”
24
A fortnight later, Julian tugged at his cravat, the starched linen like a noose around his throat. He cast another glance out of the carriage window as their coach rumbled through the rain-washed streets towards Buckingham Palace.
Apprehension roiled in his gut. He’d visited Edgar Kellerman’s offices just that morning, only to find the place shut up tight as a nunnery. Not a whisper or scrap of evidence remained. And still no word from Wentworth.
Somewhere out there, a killer plotted his next move while Julian prepared to play the fawning sycophant beneath the chandeliers.
Bloody fantastic. Why not add disembowelment to round out the festivities?
Beside him, Caroline drew a muted, trembling breath. To the outside world, the Duchess of Hastings presented the picture of polished nobility. But Julian glimpsed the cracks in her genteel façade – the faint tremor in her gloved fingers, the crease of worry between her brows.
He reached over to cover her restless hands with his own. “Just two hours of meaningless pleasantries at most. Smile, greet the queen, have some wine. The usual nonsense.”
“While the most powerful woman in the country stares us down like a governess ready to rap our knuckles if we misbehave,” Caroline said.
Despite the circumstances, Julian’s lips twitched. “Think of Her Majesty in her nightdress. It always humanises the grandeur.”
Caroline cast him an arch look, though he noted some of the tension around her eyes had smoothed away. “You want me to imagine our queen in her undergarments?”
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug, keeping his tone light. “She’s still just a woman. Puts her skirts on one leg at a time like any other lady. But say the word, and I’ll whisk you behind a potted palm to catch your breath.”
Her darting glance held a spectre of panic. “If anyone asks about the bombing—”
“Lie through your teeth.”
“Truly?”
“Absolutely. Tell them you carried me over the rubble in your dainty arms after I swooned from manly vapours.”
She cut him a glare. “They thoughtIwas the one who fainted, duke.”
“Then I’ll tell everyone you saved a basket of kittens,” he replied.
“Make it a dozen orphans, three puppies, the Crown Jewels,anda basket of kittens,” she added. “Might as well make it good.”
“That’s my audacious girl,” Julian said, kissing her knuckles.
The line of her shoulders eased just a fraction beneath his lingering touch. She was still too tense and braced for disaster – but they would get through this farce with fortitude and wine. Plenty of wine. He just needed to keep her smiling.
A liveried footman opened the door as the carriage drew up outside the palace. Raindrops speckled the white marble stairs. As Julian handed Caroline down, voices and raucous laughter bled from the palace’s illuminated façade. The muted strains of the orchestra provided a counterpoint to the swelling din.
Inside, the grand reception hall gleamed, polished to a high shine. Liveried footmen stood posted along the red carpet runner that guided guests towards the ballroom’s vaulted splendour. The mingled perfume of rare hothouse blooms filled the air beneath the blaze of a hundred chandeliers, turning the mirrored walls into dazzling facets of light.
They joined the elegant queue of guests waiting to be announced. Despite the exaggerated deference, curiosity burned behind the polite smiles turned their way. Julian clenched his jaw as yet another gawking matron eyed Caroline’s stomach with interest.
“Why do they keep staring at my midsection as if they expect a baby to pop out and do a jig?” Caroline asked.
“Looking for proof we’ve produced an heir in weeks, I suspect,” Julian said in irritation. “Would you like me to scare them off?”
“I think we’re meant to be the toast of thetontonight, not a spectacle.” She fidgeted with her gloves. “Really, it’s odious.”
“Just remember, picture their undergarments.”
She sputtered a laugh. “Julian.”
“That dowager over there, for example.” He tilted his head discreetly towards a jewelled matron. “Go on, give it a try. Or picture her stark naked. That ought to help.”
