Page 8 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
And yet, Colin was not entirely sure that he would like the man he would be if it were not for the responsibilities he held as being the Duke of Hartingdale. Perhaps he would have become very rakish, indeed. But he had his tenants, businesses, and estates to consider.
“My aunt and cousin live in Bath,” Lady Clarissa said. The words seemed to hold no deeper meaning; she was merely making polite conversation.
Colin felt a wash of relief overcome him. She did not seem as if she wanted to court him. That was a novelty among unmarried ladies of the ton.
“Oh, yes?”
Colin was trying to recall who precisely Lady Clarissa’s aunt and cousin were. Lady Bentley’s husband had died two years before. Colin remembered that because his aunt had called upon Lady Bentley as soon as it was socially appropriate to do so. Aunt Matilda had nearly run herself ragged with worry over her old friend. He could remember no sister being mentioned, though.
“It is my father’s sister,” Lady Clarissa said, sparing Colin from the embarrassment of admitting he had not the faintest idea who she referred to. “My aunt Frances wed a gentleman. She has not attended any of the ton’s social events since her youth.”
Colin knew the type. Lady Clarissa’s Aunt France had been one of the smart ladies. She had managed to escape this world and had settled in Bath, one of the most relaxing spots in all of England. Sometimes, Colin wished that he could do that, but he was also all too aware that many of the pleasures he indulged in would be entirely inaccessible if he surrendered his position to someone else.
And then, how would he ensure that Matilda and Deborah were receiving what they needed? Sure, his sister had her husband, and he seemed to be a decent man. He was clever and had a sharp wit, which made Deborah smile. But Aunt Matilda had no one.
“That is unfortunate,” Colin said absentmindedly. “She is never able to attend the balls or soirees.”
“It must not be so dreadful,” Lady Clarissa said, “or she would visit us more often than she does.”
There was an edge to Lady Clarissa’s expression, and a pink flush spread over her cheeks. Her eyes seemed brighter. Colin swallowed hard. He had always liked women best when they looked a little flustered, whether it was from anger, cosmetics, or because they had recently engaged in certain erotic activities.
He was quite certain that Lady Clarissa had never engaged in any erotic activities, and Colin silently chastised himself for even thinking about her in that context. She was uninterested in him, and she had expectations he could not fulfil. Besides, she probably thought he was an incurable rake. Thinking about her in any context beyond simply a lovely partner for a single dance was a fruitless task.
“Does she invite you to visit her?” Colin asked.
Lady Clarissa’s expression changed just slightly. She seemed displeased, and Colin could not have said if it was his question or not. “She does quite often,” the lady said, her voice ringing with a note of finality.
The dance was nearing its end. Colin did not notice at first that his grip on the lady grew nearly imperceptibly tighter. She did not seem to notice. Soon, the lady would part from him, and he would leave for Bath at once with his aunt. Still, there was surely no harm in looking.
He let his eyes linger on her hazel-green eyes, her coral lips, and her slender, white throat, unadorned save for a small sapphire necklace. He nobly resisted the urge to let his gaze drop any lower and instead focused on the feeling of her dress beneath his palm.
The thin, silky fabric hanged loosely from Lady Clarissa’s form, but it did nothing to conceal her slender waist and broad hips. If anything, the dress only made Colin want to see her all the more. He couldfeelwhat he could not see.
The song ended. Lady Clarissa drew in a sharp breath of air. Colin could not have said why she did, but the small sound made him want to grasp her all the more tightly. “Thank you for the dance, Your Grace,” said the lady, dipping into a demure curtsey.
Colin saw nothing else in the gesture, no subtle insinuation or proposition, but then, he had not been expecting one. Lady Clarissa seemed wonderfully uninterested in him and his title. “The pleasure is mine,” he replied, bowing. “I can assure you of that.”
Lady Clarissa smiled, but her eyes had taken on that same distracted look once more. Whatever matter had occupied her attention at the start of the dance clearly had not vanished by the end.
“Shall I return you to your mother?” Colin asked, offering his arm. “I see that she is still speaking with my aunt.”
“That would be kind of you.”
Colin was sure that he did not intend to be kind. He desired to spend just a few more fleeting moments with Lady Clarissa beside him. He was left with a strange dilemma. Because Lady Clarissa showed neither an expectation of a second dance nor any show of affection, he desired to linger with her for just a little longer.
As they approached, Aunt Matilda’s head snapped towards them. Her face practically glowed with excitement, and Colin felt a small smile twitch at his lips. Dancing with Lady Clarissa at his aunt’s behest had turned into a rather pleasurable task, indeed. And, if in doing so he had made his aunt happy, that was all the better.
“Your daughter,” Colin said, inclining his head to Lady Bentley.
The woman’s responding smile was too sweet, nearly cloying. Doubtlessly, she had hoped that this encounter would result in something more than a dance. Even as he reluctantly dropped his arm from Lady Clarissa’s hand, he knew that he needed to make sure there was no misunderstanding between them all.
“Aunt Matilda, I am afraid that I am terribly tired. I think I will retire now.”
His aunt’s face softened. “Of course. I shall not be away from my bed for much longer myself. After all, we have a long journey in the morning, and I need to be certain that Geoffrey has made arrangements at the Swan’s Inn for us. He said that he would, but you know I always have to check these arrangements myself. Otherwise, I shall worry dreadfully about it.”
“Indeed?” Lady Bentley asked.
“Oh, yes,” Aunt Matilda replied. “I worry about everything, even though my staff is quite competent. It is a habit I developed as a girl and which I never managed to lose. Surely, you remember some of that from our youth?”
