Page 19 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
Clarissa reluctantly placed her copy of Shakespeare’s poems on the writing desk. Her mother would not be deterred. Alice arrived and helped Clarissa arrange her hair and change into a new gown. The garment was pale pink and embellished with ribbons and small, white pearls. Once she was dressed once again, she and her mother left the room.
As her mother descended the stairs, Clarissa glanced over her shoulder, admiring the pheasant tapestry again. Like most ladies, she knew how to embroider. She had never especially enjoyed the task, but she was good at it. Clarissa would never have the patience to embroider those massive tapestries, though, and she felt a surge of admiration for those women’s talents with needlework.
A flash caught her eye, and Clarissa turned her head. She drew in a sharp breath. There he was. The Duke of Hartingdale stood before a door a few feet away. Her eyes traced over the broad shoulders, emphasised by his well-tailored jacket. Her heart beat quickly as her gaze travelled lower.
She admired his tapered waist. Clarissa’s face grew hot, as she remembered her dream and how it felt to have his body pressed hard against hers and his lips on hers.
Clarissa turned away abruptly. She must not let him see her. Perhaps she would be very fortunate and manage to avoid him throughout the entirety of her mother’s visit. “I am famished, Mother.”
Clarissa must also keep her mother from looking behind her, where she might see His Grace. As mother and daughter descended the stairs, Clarissa felt a burning tightness form in the pit of her stomach. Her chest felt light, and her lips tingled with the memory of her dream.Whyhad she dreamed such a thing?
“Hopefully, the fare is adequate,” her mother said. “It will certainly not be as sufficient as we are accustomed to it being.”
“I agree,” Clarissa replied.
In truth, she understood why Her Grace might prefer this inn. There was an understated elegance about the place. It was simple and rustic, which gave it the illusion of being something like a hunting lodge. Yet despite her mother’s complaints, the inn was obviously of good quality.
“First, I wish to see if I can find His Grace or Lady Matilda,” her mother said, her eyes searching the dining room.
Clarissa forced down the lump that rose in her throat. Her mother’s next attempt to find the Duke of Hartingdale and Lady Matilda would likely be to find some way to enter the private parlour. Clarissa fidgeted with the skirts of her dress. She tried to subtly move away from the stairwell, but her mother refused to move and give Clarissa the room.
There is no other way for him to leave that floor. He must come down the stairs, and then he will find us.
Clarissa swallowed hard. “I do not see him, Mother.”
“Nor do I,” Lady Bentley said, sounding disappointed. “But that is fine. I am sure he must be here.”
Oh, her mother was very right, but Clarissa had no intention of revealing His Grace’s presence. Even if she longed for—and dreaded—their inevitable reunion, she wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.
Chapter 10
Colin spied the back of a young woman clad in pink silk. Her dark brown hair was gathered into ringlets, decorated with delicate white blossoms. She was obviously a lady who had fled London the instant that the Season concluded. Colin understood precisely why one might do that. She vanished before he could enjoy the view of her for much longer.
The sight of her sent tingles down his spine. He could not chance a dalliance with a lady, though. Perhaps there would be some working woman in Bath who would be willing to pass an evening with him.
His aunt’s door opened, snapping Colin out of his thoughts about the beautiful lady. Aunt Matilda smiled brightly. “Apologies for keeping you waiting.”
“No apologies are needed,” Colin replied, offering his arm. “Shall I escort you to dinner now? I have made arrangements for us to dine in the private parlour.”
“Oh, how lovely.”
Aunt Matilda curled her hand over the crook of Colin’s elbow, and together, they descended the stairs. As they neared the bottom, Colin’s heart raced. There was the same lady in pink silk once more. His breath hitched.
“I beg your pardon, Miss,” Aunt Matilda said.
The woman whirled around; her face the picture of surprise. Her hazel-green eyes were wide, and her coral lips parted as if in a silent gasp. It was the lady from earlier, but more than that, it was Lady Clarissa. Colin inhaled deeply and stared at the young lady. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Colour rose to her cheeks, and her eyes lowered, half-hidden by her thick, dark eyelashes.
“Lady Matilda!” exclaimed Lady Bentley. “What a pleasant surprise!”
“Indeed,” Aunt Matilda said. “I did not know that you planned on visiting Bath. Why did you not say anything last night?”
“I will confess that it was a rather sudden idea,” Lady Bentley said. “I heard you speaking of coming to Bath, and it reminded me that I have relations in Bath. My sister-in-law and her daughter both live in the town, and it occurred to me that I have not seen them since my poor husband died.”
Colin fixed his gaze on Clarissa, trying to judge her reaction. Her expression was vaguely absentminded, as though her concerns were far away from Bath. She had mentioned something about having relatives in Bath, but he could not recall precisely what had been said. He had been too invested in looking at her body and nobly resisting the temptation that she presented.
“Of course,” Aunt Matilda said.
Colin frowned. He was not certain that he believed Lady Bentley. It was likely true that she did have family in Bath. Colin could not imagine that mother and daughter had managed to fabricate such a lie. However, he knew what manner of woman Lady Bentley was.
