Page 50 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
“W—well, I did say that,” Lady Clarissa said.
Colin could sense the lady looking at him, even without turning his head. He shook his head slightly.
“It will be most enjoyable,” Watford said, smirking. “Let us just do this one little thing. I promise not to tell your aunt.”
Colin forced a smile. “Very well.”
It would be harmless; he told himself. Surely, if he had resisted Lady Clarissa’s charms for so long, he could manage to control himself for just a little longer.
Chapter 24
Clarissa, clad in a linen shift, entered the bath. Lord Watford and His Grace were already there, and Clarissa’s throat grew tight as her eyes focused on the Duke of Hartingdale’s masculine form. It was not proper for a young lady to let her eyes linger so much on a man’s broad shoulders or to think of dozens of metaphors with which she might describe them. Her gaze travelled down his chest, all the way down to the waters, and her body tingled in all those forbidden places.
His Grace had been correct. This was highly improper. How was she supposed to maintain her composure when faced with such a paragon of masculinity so near her and yet so untouchable?
“Lady Clarissa! Miss Spencer!” Lord Watford exclaimed.
This was all his fault; his and Jane’s. Clarissa forced down the lump which rose in her throat. Her heart beat so frantically that she felt as if it might burst from her own chest.
“Lord Watford,” Jane said, her eagerness obvious as she approached the Viscount and the Duke.
His Grace frowned. Clarissa wondered if he had taken offence to Jane not greetinghim, as propriety would dictate. Clarissa took her time in approaching him. It was so she would have the time to muster up some measure of control over her wandering eyes. She needed to look and think about only his face.
A dull ache formed between her thighs, and Clarissa longed to clench her legs together, to force the sensation away with the power of her will. If she did that, His Grace would surely notice. Strangely, the thought that he mightnoticesent another tingling bolt of pleasure along her spine.
“Lady Clarissa,” His Grace said, as she joined him.
“Your Grace.”
Lord Watford and Jane were already very near one another, already deep in conversation. Clarissa bit her lip. Would Jane heed her warning about being careful? Clarissa felt inclined to stay near Jane, to force herself into the conversation with Lord Watford, and yet she knew that Jane would not appreciate her intervention. She had resolved to spend the evening with Lord Watford.
“We did not finish our conversation about poetry,” His Grace said, “although I am not certain that one could ever conclude a conversation about such a topic. It seems as if there will always be more to appreciate when it comes to poetry.”
“I agree,” Clarissa said.
She must trust that Jane was capable of making her own decisions. Jane was a smart young woman and did not need her cousin to champion her.
“How do you feel about modern poetry?” the Duke of Hartingdale asked. “I feel as though we are witnessing a revival of sorts, this renewed interest in the natural world.”
Clarissa frowned. “Has it not always been there? It seems to me that nature and poetry are, in some respects, inseparable.”
“Certainly,” His Grace said. “I suppose I mean that it seems as if we are more ardently trying to acknowledge that inseparability.”
“I truly cannot imagine why,” Clarissa replied.
The Duke of Hartingdale cast her an odd look.
“Industrialization,” she clarified. “It is enough to make one nostalgic for the natural world.”
“Hm. I suppose that makes a sort of sense. We long for what we fear we may be losing,” His Grace said.
“Yes. We want to acknowledge the wonders of technology and the world we live in, and yet we long for a simpler time, when the world was a little less crowded and more beautiful.”
“Which is its own sort of fiction.”
“Do you think so?”
His Grace nodded. “Of course. There have been people living in Britain for centuries before us, and they probably felt as if they were living in a lesser age. Since Gildas, at least.”
