Page 26 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
It was late afternoon when they arrived at the inn where they would spend the night. Colin crossed his arms as John, the coachman, inspected the carriage wheels. “I do think it needs to be repaired, Your Grace,” he said, “certainly before you set out again.”
“Do you have any idea how the axle became so loose? It seems rather sudden. I did not notice that the carriage was driving roughly yesterday.”
Colin’s thoughts went at once to Lord Creshire. While it was true that Colin had no evidence or any realreasonto suspect the lord’s involvement, Colin did not trust that man. Barring any other suspects, the Earl of Creshire was the obvious target for Colin’s suspicions.
John shrugged.
“I have not the faintest idea, Your Grace. It is possible that being on the unfamiliar country roads had something to do with it. Roads in London are different, and sometimes, the carriage parts can shift. Travelling some distance might reveal problems which were not noticeable before, on shorter journeys.”
Colin hummed. That explanation made as much sense as any, he supposed. “How long will the repair take?”
“I think it can be fixed by morning,” the coachman replied. “It will not delay you long; I am sure of that.”
Colin sighed. “See to it, then. I wish to make all haste to my sister’s estate.”
He knew that John would assume Colin merely wished to see his sister very badly. It was well known that he and Deborah were quite close, although ducal business seldom allowed Colin with enough time to visit his sister in Bath. There was some truth in that, for Colin was eager to see his sister Deborah, but he also had an ulterior motive. He wanted to know if Lord Creshire had truly been invited. If not, Colin was not sure what Deborah would want to do.
It would be poor form to turn him away at the door after he had come all the way from Bath, and Colin knew the ton would want a justification for treating the generally well-liked Lord Creshire in such a disgraceful manner. Not for the first time, Colin wished that his sister had told everyone what a villain the Earl of Creshire was. He understood too well her reasons for not sharing the man’s villainy with everyone, but still, he wished.
“Let me know if you discover that the repair will take more time than initially thought,” Colin added, nearly as an afterthought.
“I shall, Your Grace.”
Colin shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, drawing some comfort from the familiar spine of the poetry book. The mysterious poet wrote often of nature, and he wondered if she would find Bath as lovely as he did. But then, most poets found the natural world to be a veritable fountain of inspiration. Why should she be any different? Nature itself was often depicted as a woman, anyway.
As he approached the stables, he decided to see if his favoured horse Penelope had handled the journey well. Mark, his footman, had ridden her for the journey to Bath, and although Colin knew that Mark was an expert horseman, Colin still felt the need to check in on the horse. He entered the stables and quickly found the familiar bay horse. “How are you, Penny?” Colin asked quietly.
Penelope stuck her hand over the stable door and sniffed loudly, clearly searching for an apple or other treat. Colin laughed. “Maybe later,” he said. “I apologise for my present negligence. It was not my intention to greet you without an apple.”
He patted the horse’s neck. It was a pity that Penelope had already ridden so far. Colin would have liked to have taken the horse on a ride himself. Riding was a good way to clear his head, and at the moment, it would have been nice to just allow himself to be lost for a little while.
He needed a distraction from his sudden attraction to Lady Clarissa. Even knowing that Lady Bentley had likely come to Bath specifically in the hopes of him courting her daughter did little to dampen Colin’s rather improper enthusiasm for thinking about Lady Clarissa. He had been from London for too long.
Control yourself,Colin thought.You are better than this.
He ached when he thought of those beautiful, plump lips and her shining hazel-green eyes, which seemed to contain all the colours of the forest within them. His breath hitched, and he could not even say why. It was not as if Lady Clarissa was uncommonly beautiful.
Sure, shewaslovely, but all ladies of the ton were lovely. Besides, she was a little older than was really proper. Lady Clarissa was on the edge of spinsterhood, and she was a little odd. Perhaps it was not proper for him to think of a lady as being odd, but she had few close friends and acquaintances. She was….
She was unconventional, and Colin was beginning to think that might be the problem. Lady Clarissa did not act as if she were desperate to gain his attention and change her lot in life, and so Colin found himself helplessly attracted to her. He sighed. “What a mess, Penny. I wish I were a horse sometimes. It must be nice to have your only concerns be about oats and apples.”
The horse snorted, and Colin liked to imagine that he had amused her. “Well, then,” he said, patting the horse’s flank. “Enjoy your evening. I suppose I shall just have to endure.”
Colin had no doubt that he would see Lady Clarissa again very soon. Aunt Matilda’s generosity was boundless, and doubtlessly, she would be eager to invite Lady Bentley and her daughter to every meal, conversation, and social function until they parted ways in Bath—them to Deborah’s estate and Lady Bentley and Lady Clarissa to visit their relatives.
As he strode from the stable, Colin saw the dark outline of a woman across from the stables. She stood beneath a tree, entirely unaccompanied. His heart was in his throat as he made his way towards her. This would be the perfect way to rid himself of those thoughts about Lady Clarissa.
He would just find some other lady who would be more acceptable company, but as he neared her, his breath caught. There was one glaring problem with his plan; the woman standing across from the stables with her back turned to him was, without a single shred of doubt, Lady Clarissa.
Walk away,he thought.
His conscience screamed at him to turn away and act as if he had not even laid eyes on Lady Clarissa, but his feet did not seem to obey his own heart. Against his better judgement, he found himself drawn nearer to her, like a moth to a flame.
***
Clarissa gazed at the rolling green hills dotted with purple wildflowers. Soon, they would be lost to the early chill of autumn, but at present, they were lovely. She let out a low sigh, releasing with it all the coiled up energy from the carriage ride. Her mother’s schemes to see her wed left Clarissa feeling as though she wanted to scream.
“It is a beautiful view,” said a low, masculine voice.
