Page 48 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
William was still there, standing with his back to her, staring out the window with his hands tucked in his trouser pockets. What she felt for him was so pure and honest, she did not even pause to think about her actions. She scurried up to him, slid her arms around his waist and hugged him, resting her cheek against his back. She felt pure unbridled bliss. There were simply no other words for it. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ she murmured to him.
His chuckle was warm and low, resounding deep in his belly. He turned in her arms. ‘So you approve of my surprise?’ he asked, light dancing in his eyes.
‘I more than approve. It may be the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.’ She pressed a hand to his cheek and he leaned in to her touch. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. The meeting of their lips was soft and gentle at first. Then, he pulled her in to him and the gratitude and sweetness she felt morphed into something deeper and more urgent.
Before she knew it, he was kissing the very life out of her and her limbs tingled and buzzed under the heat of his touch as his hands roamed up and down the column of her back and along her waist. She wasn’t entirely sure her feet were even touching the floor any more.
Why did he have to feel and smell so good?
A subtle cough sounded from the doorway. ‘William,’ she whispered as he kissed along the column of her throat. He must not have heard it. ‘Mrs Chisholm,’ she said with a chuckle.
He stilled and pulled away with a low curse that made her giggle like a schoolgirl.
‘Yes, Mrs Chisholm?’ William asked.
‘Your Grace,’ she replied with a small bow. ‘The ladies are settled and tea has been brought up to the small library upstairs in case you would like to join them, my lady.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Chisholm. I shall join them shortly. We have much to catch up on.’ She turned to William and mouthed ‘thank you’.
He lifted her hands and pressed a kiss between the delicate ridge of her knuckles and released her with a wink.
Her stomach fluttered to the floor like a fallen petal catching the breeze and she held her breath. The man was making her fall in love with him. She couldn’t stop the perilous journey she was on.
Nor did she want to.
Hattie entered the upstairs library and reading room and closed the door behind her with a click.
‘If this wasn’t one of the most gorgeous rooms I have ever been in, I would throttle you,Lady Penelope Denning,’ Trudy announced, exaggerating the syllables of Hattie’s assumed identity. Trudy looked up from the volume she had been skimming and snapped the book shut.
Ophelia bit her lip and rushed to Hattie. ‘What has happened, Hat?’ she asked, grasping one of Hattie’s hands. ‘We had a fright when we received your letter about you staying on, but with so few details, and then the carriage arrived for us from His Grace with an invitation to visit our friend,Lady Penelope Denning.’She lowered her voice. ‘For a moment we thought youhadbeen seduced into some sort of accommodation house and become a lady for hire.’ Ophelia giggled.
When Hattie didn’t immediately contradict her, both of her friends stilled and stared at her. The colour drained from Ophelia’s face. ‘You haven’t, have you?’
‘No,’ Hattie stammered out. ‘Not exactly.’
Trudy cocked her head and stared at her quizzically. ‘Then, what exactlyisgoing on?’
‘It is a long story. Sit. I’ll pour us some tea. And enjoy the biscuits. The food here is exquisite.’
They both cut a glance at each other before they sat at the small table Mrs Chisholm had filled with a silver-tiered tray of biscuits, little sandwiches and other tasty treats and a steaming pot of tea with three cups and saucers. Ophelia was the first to select a soft biscuit and pop it in her mouth. Her eyes widened and she sighed. The bliss from the shortbread melting in her mouth was evident.
‘Delicious, are they not?’ Hattie asked, pouring their tea and adding sugars and milk. Trudy’s gaze followed Hattie until she settled into the chair between them.
‘Spill,’ Trudy said before sipping her tea.
‘Well, my position began as a governess just as I had expected. His daughter, Millie, my young charge, is adorable. And she reminds me…of me…of us.’ The other two stilled.
‘How so?’ Trudy asked. ‘Not to be obtuse, but she lives here. She has a father. How is she anything at all like us?’
‘Her mother died quite suddenly, tragically, and she hasn’t spoken a word since.’
‘That is dreadful,’ Ophelia said, setting her biscuit back on her plate. ‘Poor girl.’
‘How long has it been since she has spoken?’ Trudy asked.
‘Over a year,’ Hattie replied. ‘But I feel she is making progress…or at least I hope she is.’
‘A year?’ Ophelia whispered.
