Page 12 of The Duke's Twin
“I’m fine, darling. The best lovers know when to give pleasure without expecting it in return.” He caressed the back of her neck with one hand, massaging her muscles. It felt so wonderful to be cared for like that.
“Becca?” Her mother’s shout dragged her from the depths of quiet joy.
“Becca, where are you?” Her father’s voice joined in. They sounded nearby.
The duke sighed, fisting his hands in the hair at the nape of her neck, frustration lining his face. He rested his forehead against hers, his dark lashes fanning down as he closed his eyes.
“I wish I didn’t have to let you go.” The way he said it sounded as though he meant more than just this moment. As though he didn’t ever want to let her leave him. But that had to be wishful thinking on her part. A man like the Duke of Wiltshire would not feel that way about someone like her. Not when he could have whomever he wanted.
“We ought to go back, I suppose,” he said glumly, helping her smooth her clothes back into place. When she tried to give him his coat, he shook his head.
“Keep it on. I want to know you’re warm until we return to the manor.” He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek and tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear.
Almost numb with disappointment at the interruption of the best moment of her life, she touched her kiss-swollen lips and allowed Wiltshire to lead her through the misting rain back toward the manor house. The brief flare of wondrous passion was over, but she clung to the memory of it and the warmth it could provide. It might be the only such experience she’d ever have.
5
Rebecca had to fight to contain her excitement as she followed the Duke of Wiltshire out of the stables. His groom led the two beautiful geldings they’d chosen, one a red roan color and the other a snowy white with gray legs and a dappled mane. Rebecca straightened her riding habit, glad to see the white gelding was wearing a standard saddle.
“I’m afraid we don’t have a sidesaddle,” Wiltshire said. “Is that all right?”
“Oh yes, of course, quite fine,” she assured him. “Papa lets me ride astride when we are in the country. I much prefer it. So long as you don’t mind the scandal should anyone see us.”
Wiltshire shot her that cocky grin. “Scandals are my specialty.” He winked, and she laughed.
“That’s not what I’ve heard. You are considered the picture of respectability back in London.”
“Not everything reaches the ears of society in London, my dear.”
They rode for a few miles, stopping at the top of a hill that faced a lovely gray-stoned house surrounded by a field of wildflowers. It was the most beautiful view she’d ever seen, somehow even more beautiful than the impressive sight of Wiltshire Manor. Whoever lived here, Rebecca decided, was blessed. The house was by no means small, except when compared to the duke’s home, but it seemed cozier and more intimate. The wild and colorful surroundings of the fields of flowers and the distant gardens beyond were both bewitching and inviting.
“Who lives there? Is that one of your neighbors?” she asked.
“That…that is Beresford House. Miles lives there. Quaint little place compared to the manor house, don’t you think?”
“I rather like quaint little places when possible. I don’t mean to say that your place isn’t wonderful, Your Grace. It’s just all that extra space must hardly ever get used unless you are entertaining.” She didn’t want him to think she didn’t like the manor house, but a place like this, Miles’s home, seemed to be perfect.
“I agree with you. Miles strives to makes his home most warm and welcoming,” the duke said softly.
But if the duke truly wishes to court me, and if we marry, this would never be my home…
“Let’s ride on. Race you to the end of the meadow!” the duke challenged.
She followed behind, laughing, lying low over her mount so she could try to beat him. For a moment, her worries were forgotten as she fell completely and irrevocably in love with the duke. For that moment, anything felt possible.
Miles hadto see Rebecca again. After their afternoon alone where they’d spent at least an hour kissing and holding one another in a meadow, he was desperate to have a moment alone to talk with her. Justin had said that he was ready to propose to Lydia, and both brothers had decided to tell their respective ladies the truth privately after dinner.
Dinner hadn’t been as intimate as he’d wished, however. Not with Mrs. Livingston trying to shove Lydia at him all evening, hoping to distract him from Rebecca, a fact that Rebecca could hardly miss. It was time to end the charade and reveal the truth.
When he felt the time was right, he went in search of her bedchamber. The door was slightly ajar, and strains of a conversation trickled out into the hallway.
“You must cease this nonsense, Becca. Stop throwing yourself at the duke. He mustn’t be distracted if he’s to marry Lydia. You’ve been underfoot so often that the duke’s brother has been paying court to your sister instead of the duke. We cannot allow this to continue.”
“Mama, it’s clear Lydia prefers Mr. Beresford to his lordship. Why can’t she—?” Rebecca began.
Mrs. Livingston scoffed. “Lydia does not know what she prefers. Becca, dear. I love you, but you and I both know you are not suited to be a duchess. The balls and parties and responsibilities? You’ve never wanted that life. Lydia was born for it.”
The words burned him. Rebecca’s own mother valued her so little? No one should suffer hearing that, especially not a woman like Rebecca. What did her mother know of beauty? She had the loveliest eyes he’d ever seen and a smile that made his heart turn over. She was kind, amusing, and genuine.
