Page 1 of His Grace, the Duke
1
James
The carriage swayedgently as a team of four horses pulled it steadily onward. It was dangerous to travel at night, but light from the full moon and a sea of stars guided the way. Dawn was soon approaching. The colors were already shifting; the indigo was not quite so depthless. Soon a spray of pinks and purples would break over the horizon.
James hoped to be in London well before sunrise. He wanted to beat the morning traffic... and avoid any early-rising busybodies who might recognize his coach arriving at Corbin House. Tucked under his arm, Rosalie shifted in her sleep. He stifled a smile.
When they first started their journey north, it hadn’t escaped his notice how she kept herself as far from him as possible. Wedged in the corner of the coach, she did her utmost to not even look in his direction. Who was it that she didn’t trust? James... or herself? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that if he clenched his jaw any tighter, he might break his teeth.
But if Rosalie resolutely had nothing to say, then neitherdid he. The only indulgence he allowed himself was to glance over every so often and trace the feminine arc of her neck with his eyes, illuminated by that bright moon.
She finally fell asleep, and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least when she was asleep, he could look at her without restraint. She still wore his evening coat over her ball gown, his mother’s necklace around her throat. His mind flashed with images of their stolen moment in the library. It made him almost feral when he brushed his fingers over that damn necklace, feeling how her soft skin warmed the pearls. He imagined her wearing other Corbin family jewels... and nothing else... stretched out naked on his bed, reaching for him, wanting him—
Christ.
She was right not to trust him. He couldn’t get her out of his head.
But in sleep, our true desires surface. A jolt in the road had her jerking away from the window. That’s when she leaned towards James, her head falling on his shoulder. She let out a contented sigh as she curled into him, her left arm drifting until her gloved hand settled on his thigh. She hadn’t noticed when he shifted slightly, wrapping his arm around her.
That was two hours ago. Two hours of holding her in his arms. It was all he could do not to move. Her hair was falling out of its elegant style. One curl fluttered in her face, swaying with the movement of the carriage. He wanted to tuck it behind her ear, but he was afraid to wake her and watch her recoil. Part of hermusttrust him. Part of her felt safe in his arms. She could admit it in sleep. Could she ever admit it when she was awake?
“Whoa . . .whoa,” the coachman called.
The clatter of the horses’ shod hooves told James they were now on cobblestones. One more change over and they would be in Town.
Rosalie pressed into him as she sat up, blinking as she looked around. Bright, golden torchlight flickered outside the windows to either side as they entered a carriage yard. The coachman was already calling orders to a pair of grooms to change out the tired team. Realizing where she was, she shifted away. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I fell asleep.” She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, suppressing a shiver. James frowned. She’d be warm again if she would just stay in his arms. To anyone else, he would have said as much, but she was too stubborn. If James said anything, he was sure she’d opt to ride atop the carriage like a piece of luggage.
She peered out the window, blinking in the harsh torchlight. “Have we arrived?”
“Not quite. This will be the last change over. We’ll be in Town in another hour.”
“Did you sleep at all?”
“No.”
She stifled a yawn, pressing herself back into the corner, arms crossed tight inside his evening coat. That would have to be his first stop this morning. James had an entire wardrobe waiting for him at Corbin House, but Rosalie had only the clothes on her back. Hardly appropriate attire. In fact, it was downright scandalous... but it was also their easiest problem to fix.
James was a bloody fool. He never acted impetuously, and this was why. He would be arriving in Town with the sunrise, his family’s unwed ward on his arm, both of them still dressed for the ball from which they fled like thieves in the night.
“We need a plan,” he said, breaking their strained silence.
Rosalie glanced over at him. “A plan?”
“Yes. We need an excuse to have just taken off like we did.”
She was quiet for a moment. “What did you have in mind?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been mulling it almost since we left... but I can’t think of any good reason why we’d leave like we did that doesn’t link us romantically... What if we say your aunt was taken ill? Would she play along?”
Rosalie worried her lip. “And I just happened to receive news of it late at night while dancing at a ball? And you rushed to bring me to her side?”
She didn’t need to say what they both knew. It was a hopelessly weak excuse.
“I thought perhaps an engagement party,” she said, peering out the window again.
James frowned. “What?”
“Our excuse,” she replied, watching the footmen scurry in the yard. “We rushed to London to throw together a surprise engagement party for His Grace and Piety. The sooner we set the date, the easier our quick exit can be forgiven.” She turned back to face him, golden light from the torches illuminating her beautiful face. “It’s not exactly foolproof, but—”
