Page 24 of A Duke's Temptation Poetess
Colin stifled a yawn and resisted the urge to rub his eyes. He felt as if a dull weight had settled over his shoulders, as if some thick fog had seeped into his very bones. Exhaustion dragged at him, dulling every sense except for the worry clawing at his spine.
He had not slept the night before, his thoughts utterly consumed with the unexpected appearance of Lord Creshire. Had Lord Creshire even been invited to the ball? Colin doubted that he had, but he also knew his sister could be too kind for her own good sometimes. He pressed his lips into a thin line, thinking.
Perhaps he should have acted differently when he encountered Lord Creshire. It would have been better to be embarrassed in front of Lady Bentley and Lady Clarissa than to give the Earl of Creshire the mistaken impression that he was welcome company at Deborah’s ball.
But it was not as if I could be rude to him without knowing if Deborah did invite him. She is a woman capable of making her own decisions, and if she has forgiven Lord Creshire, she would be very cross with me.
He would be on his guard at the ball, though, and if the Earl of Creshire showed even the slightest hint of maleficence, he would be removed from Deborah’s ball so quickly it would make his head spin.
“I must thank you again for allowing us the usage of the ducal carriage,” Lady Bentley said. “It is much kinder to my poor back.”
Lady Bentley and her daughter sat in the seat across from Colin and his aunt. They both looked awake and refreshed, which made Colin all the more conscious of his tiredness. He knew that it showed on his face. Did they notice it?
“And once more, I must tell you to think nothing of it,” his aunt said warmly. “You are a friend, and I am glad to help you. I am simply delighted that you happened to be in Bath at the same time as us. What a wonderful coincidence!”
If it was a coincidence,Colin thought.
He had no doubt that his aunt genuinely believed the sudden arrival of Lady Bentley and her daughter was purely by chance, but Colin had a difficult time believing that. Given that Lady Clarissa had made no overt attempts to seduce him, no fluttering eyelashes or coy smiles, Colin suspected that either she was not involved in the plan or else objected to it.
Even as Aunt Matilda and Lady Bentley turned the conversation to the weather, Lady Clarissa remained silent, staring out the window as the countryside passed them by.
She looked rather lovely but also melancholy. Her dark brown curls were half crushed against the cushion of the seat, and her hazel-green eyes remained narrowed. Lady Clarissa’s coral lips were slightly parted. Her lips were luscious and full, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Wonderful, certainly.
Her lips would be as soft as the finest silk, and he imagined too well the awkwardness of it. She would fumble a little, unsure what to do with her hands or mouth, as he explored her body. The thought of the kiss and of a futureamorous congresssent a tingling sensation straight to his loins.
Colin swallowed hard. She was a lady, aninnocentlady. That meant Colin should not eventhinkabout kissing Lady Clarissa, much less doing anything else with her.
She is not the woman who I ought to have lustful thoughts about,Colin thought, tearing his gaze to his aunt seated beside him.Especially not in the company of Aunt Matilda and Lady Clarissa’s own mother!
Colin looked outside the window. The countryside really was lovely, but it was difficult to focus on when he had the incarnation of temptation itself right across from him. He was near enough totouchher.
“This is lovely,” his aunt was saying. “This trip reminds me of our youth. Do you remember when we used to make those long rides to your father’s country estate?”
“I do. You always detested them.”
Aunt Matilda laughed. “Well, I detested thecountry, not the rides. The trip to the destination was quite enjoyable, but once we arrived, I found everything entirely too calm. That was all.”
Colin could use something calm right then. He dearly hoped that Lady Clarissa did not try to converse with him. If she did, it would be agony. No, it was best to try and ignore her, which would admittedly be rather difficult with her seated only a couple of feet away from him. Colin withdrew the book of poems from the pocket of his coat. Reading seemed like a good way to forget about Lady Clarissa, at least temporarily.
He flipped through the first several pages, past
“The Waltz,” and settled on a heavily marked up poem. Colin had found the poem earlier and tried unsuccessfully to interpret what words existed beneath the scrawls of heavy black ink.
This particular piece had given the poet quite a lot of difficulty, and in his experience, this poet struggled the most when she tried to explain carnal pleasure while clearly having never experienced such herself.
Colin traced his thumb over the thick ink, trying to feel the indentations that the lady’s pen must have made. Soon, he would have to relinquish the book, but perhaps—if he was fortunate—the owner would not be looking for it. Then, he could keep it for just a little longer, maybe even forever.
***
Clarissa was trying to find the appropriate simile to describe the countryside, which was the most interesting thing at present. Well, that was not entirely true. His Grace was probably the most interesting thing, but she was very consciously not looking at him. Even if she had felt inclined to speak to him, their every interaction felt poisoned now, marred by her own mother’s plans to see the two of them wed.
She was vaguely aware of her mother and Lady Matilda speaking to one another, but Clarissa was not really paying any special attention to their conversation. Clarissa wondered if her mother truly considered Lady Matilda a friend or if she was only a means to an end, a way of ingratiating herself to His Grace.
And now, what do I do?
Obviously, Clarissa could not follow through with her mother’s suggestion of ensnaring the Duke of Hartingdale by arranging a meeting between the two of them. Clarissa did not have an ounce of deceit in her, and she was too good of a woman to even consider something so terrible.
Having seen the depths of her mother’s cunning, however, Clarissa doubted that Lady Bentley would quietly accept Clarissa’s continued refusals. It would be better for her to feign compliance and simply fail. Perhaps Clarissa could manage to pretend as if she had some interest in marrying the Duke of Hartingdale, and when she inevitably failed, well…
