Page 57 of Fit for a Duke
‘The hussy danced with the duke in such a flamboyant manner. Really, I do not know what her connections can be thinking of to allow her to flaunt herself so outrageously.’
‘I rather think that the duke instigated matters, sweetheart. I don’t suppose she knew any better.’ Mark sat on the edge of the bed, pulled her into his arms and kissed her firmly. It was an effective way to put an end to any discussion about Clio, in which he seemed determined to defend her, even though he agreed with Isobel’s views on the matter.
‘Yes, but why?’ she asked, the moment Mark broke the kiss. ‘Such a mousy little thing, and the duke doesn’t need her blunt. Why would he bother with her?’
‘A useful way of discouraging the other little madams, one supposes,’ Mark replied, effecting a casualness that he didn’t feel. ‘The duke would never marry the likes of her.’
Mark wondered if he was attempting to convince himself as much as Isobel. Clio was far too young to become a duchess. He dismissed from his mind the fact that he and the duke were about the same age and he saw no reason why Clio should not be married to him. Indeed, he could think of many reasons why she should be, not all of which had to do with her wealth, which was perplexing. He loved the voluptuous woman he was holding in his arms, didn’t he? She would always be more than enough for him, which made his current mindset all that much harder to fathom.
He had seen the way Wickham had looked at the chit and had been worried by the raw passion reflected in his eyes. The duke, it seemed, had noticed the same individuality in Clio as she neared maturity that Mark had been both surprised and delighted to discover upon making her reacquaintance. The last time he had seen her she had been fourteen and unremarkable, but now it was a very different story. Whatever it was about her that both he and Wickham admired wasn’t something one could put a name to, and would be impossible to explain to Isobel. Not that he had any intention of trying. The slightest signs of admiration on Mark’s part would send her into a jealous rage.
‘Liking the young and innocent does not equate to marriage and happy ever after, my love,’ he assured her, pushing her nightgown off her shoulders. ‘They wouldn’t have anything to talk about.’
‘Talking was not what he had in mind when he held her so scandalously close, for all to see.’ Isobel spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Perhaps he knows that you want her and is singling her out just to annoy you.’
Very likely.‘It was a warning to the matchmakers not to interfere with his choice, I expect,’ Mark said. ‘He chose Clio because she has no male relatives here to protect her interests, and everyone knows that Lady Fletcher never sees any harm in anyone. How else did I wangle this invitation? You too, for that matter. You have not seen the lady for years and can hardly claim an intimate friendship, yet you didn’t even have to drop any hints.’
Mark knew he had made a mistake in mentioning the passage of time when Isobel scowled at him.
‘I shall find an opportunity during the excursion tomorrow to remind Wickham what an experienced woman has to offer. I depend upon you to keep the tiresome Miss Benton occupied.’
‘I will do my humble best.’
Mark set about making love to her but his heart was no longer in it. As his passion exploded, it wasn’t Isobel’s face that he saw beneath him, contorted with pleasure, but Clio’s. He wondered just how responsive she would be when the time finally came to surrender to him. With competition from Wickham, finding that answer had now become a matter of extreme expediency.
Ezra returned to his room to be greeted by Merlin’s snores. The dog had curled up in the middle of Ezra’s bed and didn’t so much as twitch an ear when Ezra opened the door.
‘Lazy mutt,’ he said with affection, tugging one of the ears in question. ‘I could have been killed for all the attention you pay to your duties.’
Merlin flapped his tail but kept his eyes firmly closed and Ezra laughed, envious of the dog’s simple existence. He threw off his clothes and slid naked between the sheets, pushing Merlin to one side with his foot. The dog gave an indignant snort followed by a long-suffering sigh and allowed Ezra just a little more space.
‘How am I supposed to stop her from interfering and likely getting herself killed for her trouble?’ Ezra asked Merlin, lacing his hands behind his head and staring up at the bed’s canopy. ‘She’s thirsting for adventure and doesn’t seem to understand the seriousness of the situation in her desire to protectme.If things were not so dire then I would be touched by her determination.’
Merlin stood, turned in several tight circles and settled into a more comfortable position with a heavy thump.
‘It’s not as though she wants to make herself useful in order to impress me, incredulous though you doubtless find that idea.’ Merlin dreamed on, oblivious. ‘She doesn’t aspire to become my duchess, more’s the pity. She is far too young to assume such a role anyway. Why would I want to bring such a jewel into our fractured, loveless family, slowly stifling her spirit in the process? She deserves better. Much better. She certainly deserves to be presented and enjoy being feted before she settles down.’ Ezra frowned. ‘I don’t like the thought of fortune hunters flocking to her door and I wish there was someone more worldly than Lady Fletcher to protect her interests. But still, she can see Salford for what he is so perhaps she will not be blinded by the splendours of thetonin full swing, and with that thought I must force myself to be content.’
Merlin rolled onto his back and continued to snore, still entirely oblivious to the disjointed musings of a duke.
Ezra drifted into an uneasy sleep, interspersed with images of Clio’s flashing eyes and lively retorts. Recollections of the feel of her firm young lips beneath his caused him to groan. The possibility of her being killed in her stubborn determination to help him replaced desire with nightmares, from which he woke in a sweat of tangled sheets.
Ezra took Merlin for a ramble in the grounds as the sun struggled to appear from behind dark and threatening clouds. He glanced skywards, wondering if the elements would prevent the al fresco luncheon from going ahead. Part of him hoped that it would. He would have a better chance of keeping Clio safe and preventing her from acting impetuously if they did not leave the estate. But then again, he reasoned, bending to throw a stick for Merlin, staying here in safety would not draw the killer out.
If he were to leave the estate alone, it would give the assassin a perfect opportunity to do his worst. But not knowing when and where he intended to strike would give him an added advantage to the one which he already had, which was anonymity.
Ezra’s meander took him close to the stables, where all was activity, as was to be expected at such an early hour. He nodded to Gibson, his groom and to Barnes, who cared for his mother’s team, as they worked in adjoining stalls.
‘Seems the luncheon is to go ahead, your grace,’ Gibson remarked in response to Ezra’s unasked question.
‘Is Lady Fletcher up this early and making decisions?’ Ezra asked, surprised. The ladies seldom appeared before noon.
‘No, your grace. She left the decision to her butler, who has taken the view that the elements would not dare to rain on his mistress’s entertainments.’
Ezra laughed and strolled away, thinking that resolved his problem. Clio would attend the luncheon and so would he. The decision was out of his hands. He would take Godfrey and Gibson with him, and Merlin too, for what use the cur was, and ensure that they stayed alert in their protection of him.
For his own part, Ezra had someone who was rapidly becoming a great deal more important to him to protect from her own folly, and despite the seriousness of the situation he found himself smiling as he returned to the house in search of breakfast. He was looking forward to the excursion enormously.
Chapter Fifteen
