Page 48 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
“Well,” Colin said, “I was—I find her to be engaging company, that is all. We share a love of poetry, and it is seldom that I find a woman with that particular interest. Besides, I feel as if we have become good acquaintances since she and her mother travelled all the way from London with us.”
“Of course,” Aunt Matilda replied. “I am quite sure that is all.”
His aunt said that, but her tone made it apparent that she didnotbelieve that was all. Far from it.
“You know I have resolved not to wed,” Colin said, “so I have no romantic intentions towards the young lady.”
“You say that,” his aunt replied, as the carriage came to a steady halt. “However, you do show an obvious interest in the young lady, once which seems to be about more than simply poetry.”
Colin said nothing. There was no point in arguing. He knew that his aunt was right, and he knew that she would not relent anyway. They left the carriage, Colin taking his aunt’s arm as they approached the manor.
The door opened the moment that they reached it, and Lady Bentley smiled brightly at them. “Clarissa and Jane are all ready to go,” she said.
“Wonderful,” Colin said.
As he spoke, Lady Clarissa appeared from behind her mother, a vision in green. Colin drew in a sharp breath and tried to keep his thoughts from wandering anywhere else—like how lovely she must appear beneath her dress and shawl.
“Colin,” Aunt Matilda said, patting his arm.
“I think I would like to remain with Lady Bentley and Mrs. Spencer. It is nearly time for tea. Would you be vexed if I joined you, Lady Bentley? I am so old, and I feel as though it would be best to leave the young ones to enjoy themselves without me interfering.”
Colin nearly opened his mouth to protest, but he caught the mischievous gleam in his aunt’s eye. Doubtlessly, she had an ulterior motive, likely…
Colin recalled their conversation in the carriage. He nearly groaned aloud as he realised what his aunt must be thinking. She doubtlessly hoped that this would provide Colin an opportunity to spend some time with Lady Clarissa. For years, his aunt had seemed content to accept Colin’s resolve to remain unwed, but evidently, his aunt had experienced a recent change in heart.
“Of course! You are always welcome,” Lady Bentley said.
There was something satisfied and victorious about her expression, and Colin withheld a sigh. It seemed as though both his aunt and Lady Bentley were plotting against him, conspiring to see him paired with Lady Clarissa.
“Miss Spencer,” Watford said, offering his arm.
At least one of us remains unbothered by these meddling women,Colin thought.
Aunt Matilda patted Colin’s arm and joined Lady Bentley. Knowing that it had all been so carefully engineered, Colin extended his arm to Lady Clarissa. She accepted without hesitation and offered him a small smile. Colin suspected that she knew what was happening as well as he did.
“Then, shall we be off?” Colin asked.
There was no disagreement, so Colin set his course to the carriage, Lady Clarissa a welcome companion. His whole body tingled from being so near her, from being able to inhale her lavender hair oil and to feel the phantom warmth from her body.
For what had to be the hundredth time, Colin reminded himself that he did not wish to be his father. Lady Clarissa was a woman of the ton and ought to be treated with respect. She was not a woman who he could simply bed and depart from with neither of them experiencing any heartbreak. This lady needed to have a spotless reputation; in their cruel world, that was all a lady could have.
***
Watford and Miss Spencer walked ahead. Colin could not hear their conversation, but it seemed to be rather animated. Miss Spencer kept waving her arms and pointed to various sites in Bath. He and Lady Clarissa followed, Miss Spencer’s lady’s maid coming a small distance behind them to act as chaperone.
Colin could not control his thoughts, which kept returning to his frustration that the lady’s maid was there. These were always inevitably followed by a rush of guilt that he was thinking precisely the same way that his father might.
“Why do you write poetry?” he asked.
He felt Lady Clarissa start a little, likely surprised by his sudden question after such a long period of silence. Colin hoped that talking about poetry would help him think about something other than how beautiful Lady Clarissa was and how much he would like to see her in his bedroom, entirely unclothed.
Lady Clarissa’s face started turning pink, which did little to soothe the maelstrom of Colin’s thoughts. “Well,” she said, “I am not certain that I can give you a proper answer. I have enjoyed reading and writing since I was a child. It seems as if it is something that I have always loved, so I cannot rightly tell you where the interest began.”
Colin smiled. “My late mother was the same. She loved reading, even as a young girl, and she spent her entire life building a library.”
“And you inherited her love for literature,” Lady Clarissa observed.
“You might say that,” Colin replied.
