Page 67 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
“Anyway, sorry I’ve wandered off the point. Nurse has an expression for how you’ve been feeling, now what is it? Ah, ‘blue as megrim’, when you feel a little low and have a bad headache.”
“I haven’t met your nurse, but that expression is exactly how I’ve been feeling this week.”
“Well, I won’t introduce you today, or she’ll be dosing you up with castor oil. It’s her cure-all for most ailments,” Elinor warned Arabella.
“Henry is very excited to be staying here for the ball,” Arabella said.
“Freddy, too. It will help them to feel a part of it. Now, if I’m not mistaken, that’s Mama and Robert returned.”
Arabella felt her heart plummet to her knees. How ridiculous, I’m no moon-struck girl. Yet she held on to the armsof her chair, feeling the polished wood slipping under her hands as they became slick and warm.”
“Arabella, you do look pale,” said Elinor looking concerned. “I’m going to ask Chalston to call for the gig now. You should go home and rest.”
“Thank you,” Arabella said. “I do feel a little done in.”
The trouble is that it is nothing to do with feeling tired. It is all to do with seeing the duke again. I really need to get a grip on my emotions again.
And there he was, walking towards her.
Arabella knew she needed to stand but wasn’t sure her legs would hold her steady. I’m all of a tremble. This is quite ridiculous.
Somehow, she managed to stand, one hand holding the chair arm, and make something resembling a courtesy of greeting to the dowager duchess and the Duke of Montbury.
“Elinor, you should have joined us. There is a new milliner near the spa rooms. I had a lovely time while Robert saw Mr Drabble on some estate business,” the dowager duchess told her.
“We’ve been quite busy here, Mama. Mrs Cribbage is making us new dresses for the ball,” Elinor informed her.
“Excellent. I meant to ask if you’d ordered anything. Time is running out, you know,” her mother warned.
“It’s all in hand. Arabella and I have been devising more clues for the treasure hunt and planning the decor for the ball.”
Arabella heard his voice. “I’d forgotten about the treasure hunt. Mama, will you join us for it? The plan is to make a day of it,” the duke asked his mother.
“Of course. I believe we’re having another of my picnics. It will be just us, as the house party is going to Harrogate to take the waters.”
“You wanted to go over to the island with the boys,” the duke said to Elinor and Arabella. “I’ve some free time tomorrow, if you’d like me to row you over?”
“Now that, dear brother, is an excellent offer, and I shall take you up on it immediately. Arabella and I are both feeling a little tired and would be glad of your strong arms rowing us across to the island.”
“Then we have a plan. I’ve time tomorrow afternoon if that will suit?” added the duke.
“Perfect. We can take the boys and relieve Reverend Colbrooke for an afternoon, though we’ll have to be careful they don’t see us planning where to put the clues on the treasure hunt,” replied Elinor.
“I’m going to ask you to escort Arabella to the carriage mews, Robert, where the gig should be waiting to take her home. Mama, come with me as I have lots to share about the design for the ball.”
And now I’m alone with the duke, and my tongue so tangled, and I’m not sure I can find any words.
She became aware of him offering his arm and her somehow taking it.
“Let’s walk to the stables by the garden. The honeysuckle is just coming into flower,” she heard him say.
The scent of the honeysuckle, clambering over the ancient castle wall, filled her senses as the duke guided her through the flower garden. “Mama set this part of the garden up so it resembled one of those gardens where Medieval ladies would go and sit and sew. You can smell the roses and honeysuckle, or woodbine as it’s called locally. It twines upwards and creates its own woody supports as it does so. The fragrance is delicious on a warm summer’s day.”
He stopped, moved away, picked a sprig of the blossom, and handed it to her. “It is a beautiful flower, scented and strong.” He looked at her intently. “It rather reminds me of you.”
She gasped. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been holding the Duchess of Wyndale in his arms.
“Your Grace …”
