Page 10 of Unmasked By a Captivating Lady
She seemed in no hurry to leave, staring around, openly assessing everyone and everything. He suddenly realised that she reallywasalone, walking around the streets of London, unchaperoned. How could a well brought up lady be doing such a thing? And yet, it seemed that she indeed was.
He stirred uneasily. As much as it was improper for a lady to be out walking by herself, it was equally improper for a gentleman to be accompanying her with no one else in attendance. But he couldn’t let her just drift around the city like this, could he? It was still his duty to see that she was safely returned to her home.
“May I accompany you back to your lodgings?” he asked hesitantly. “To see you safely home?”
Her velvet brown eyes suddenly widened alarmingly. “Oh Lord! What is the time?”
He glanced down at his fob watch. “It is twenty past the hour of four o’clock, madam.”
“Oh no,” she said quickly, glancing around. “I really do need to get back, immediately!” She gazed at him steadily. “If you would not mind, it would be a great help to me if you would accompany me. I find that all the streets look the same, and I have little sense of direction at any rate…”
He bowed. “Of course, madam. It would be my pleasure.” He hesitated. “I have not had the pleasure of your name.”
She blinked rapidly. “I am Miss Arabella Nott, of Rudwick House, Dorset.” Her voice dropped to an almost conspiratorial whisper. “But you can call me Ara. Everyone does.”
He nodded, trying to hide his surprise again. It was not the done thing to call young ladies by their first names, unless they were family, or very good friends. But this young lady seemed to not care about that little bit of propriety, either.
“And you are?” she asked, a challenging look in her eyes.
He opened his mouth, to answer, then shut it again abruptly. He had suddenly remembered the wager with his brother. He couldn’t tell her who he really was, could he?
“I am Lord Andrew Comerford,” he said stiffly, feeling foolish, as if someone would come out at any moment to contradict him. “The Duke of Lancaster. At your service, madam.”
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t seem overly impressed.
“Well then, Your Grace,” she said. “Shall we go?”
***
He gazed down at her, as they walked along, side by side.
Ara,he thought.Her name is Ara.
The afternoon had gone in a completely different direction to what he had been intending. No horse had been purchased. Instead, he had found a small, fierce young lady, unafraid to speak her mind, or venture into places she really shouldn’t. A lady who was equally unafraid to walk the streets of London alone, unchaperoned.
She is one in a million,he thought slowly.I have never met anyone quite like her.
It seemed that he couldn’t stop staring at her. He literally couldn’t take his eyes off her. With every step that they took, she was growing more and more attractive to him.
He liked everything about her. He liked that she was so small and petite, with womanly curves just visible beneath her gown. The tops of her dusky breasts rose full and luscious from her bodice, tantalisingly beautiful. He had a sudden wild urge to brush his fingers against them, trail them along, so he could feel the softness of her flesh.
With difficulty, he tore his eyes away. It wasn’t seemly to be thinking in such a way. He was a gentleman. She was a lady. And he had only just met her.
Suddenly, he remembered that he had told her he was his brother.
A stab of guilt tore through him, but there was nothing that he could do about it now. She thought he was the Duke of Lancaster, and he could hardly tell her he was lying, could he?
Chapter 6
Ara couldn’t help herself. She kept sneaking glances up at the tall stranger, who was walking alongside her through the streets of London. The stranger who had so unexpectedly decided to play knight errant, saving her from the heckling gentlemen at the horse auction.
The Duke of Lancaster, she thought, studying him carefully.A handsome man. A very handsome man.
He was indeed tall, but she was used to being smaller than most men. This gentleman, however, stood at least a head above most others. And he had a fine physique with it; neither too thin, nor too solid.
Her eyes kept drifting over him. He had dark brown, wavy hair, which fell over his eyes a little, and brown eyes with little golden flecks in them, reminding her of the colour of malt. A slightly long face, with a strong jawline.
Ara felt a frisson of sensation suddenly shudder through her as she gazed at him. It alarmed her just a little. She had never felt such a thing in her life. What on earth could it mean?
