Page 24 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
Hearing the driver call to the horses to stop, he glanced out at the residence to which they’d just pulled up. It was probably a fourth the size of his, but still large enough to accommodate several rooms. It appeared recently built.
His footman opened the door. Avendale stepped out just as Rose emerged elegantly from the residence. She was dressed in red again. Truly she should wear no other shade. Smiling, she hurried down the steps, along the short path, and through the gate.
“Normally a lady waits until the gentleman fetches her from inside,” he admonished lightly.
The bow of her mouth curved up as she squeezed his arm. “I was too excited to wait.”
“I would have been less than a minute.”
She rubbed where she had squeezed as though she feared she’d hurt him and now needed to offer comfort. “Don’t chastise. I’ve never been to the theater. I don’t want to dally a second longer. Shall we be off?”
Looking over her head at the residence, he was disappointed he’d not been allowed inside. He wanted to see the furniture, the paintings, the little touches that he was certain she would have added. He wanted more of a flavoring of her, and he’d thought he might discover additional information when he saw how she lived.
From windows on either side of the door, light spilled softly out into the night. Other than that, the windows were all shrouded in darkness, and yet he had the distinct impression that he was being observed. A nosy servant perhaps. Who else could it be?
“Avendale?” she chided, taking him from his thoughts.
“You are singular in purpose,” he said.
“Yes, quite. I’ve been looking forward to this evening all day.”
And preparing for it, he thought. Her red gown was a simple, sleek style that flattered her curves. The skirts were not so voluminous that he didn’t have a good idea regarding the width of her hips. A velvet choker with a small cameo at its center circled her throat. She needed rubies, a host of them, spread across that bared décolletage. He thought about how much he would again enjoy removing the gloves that rode past her elbows. He wanted to free her blond tresses of the pearl combs that held them prisoner. Although he found no fault with the slender slope of her neck being exposed. His lips could find a home there.
After handing her up into the coach, he glanced back at the residence, thought he saw a drapery flutter in an upstairs window. Perhaps he would get a glimpse inside when he brought her home.
Leaping into the conveyance, he took the bench seat opposite hers. He’d had the lantern lit so he could enjoy her without the shadows intruding. It amazed him how much he enjoyed simply looking at her.
With a lurch, the horses took off. She sat there prim and proper, glancing out the window, watching the neighborhood go by as though she’d never seen it before.
“Your home seems hardly large enough to accommodate a ballroom,” he said.
With her eyes half lowered, she peered at him. “You shouldn’t judge anything by its façade.”
“I suppose you have a point. But the neighborhood is nice. You seem to have managed quite well without the estate yet being settled.”
“That is all Beckwith’s doing. He has vouched for me so businesses will extend me credit.”
“Two years seems a rather long time for matters not to be resolved.”
“I fear that is on me. I remained in India far too long striving to put my husband’s affairs in order. Eventually I had to accept that it was beyond my skills, so I came to London. I spoke with Beckwith yesterday and he is most optimistic that he is very close to having all the little ducks lined up.”
“That’s good.” Thinking of her husband’s estate led him to thinking of her husband, which led him to—“Do you have children?”
She smiled sadly. “No. We were not married all that long and sometimes it’s just not meant to be.”
“How long were you married?”
“Nearly a year.”
He fought not to show his surprise. He was not impolite enough to ask her age, especially as the truth was that it mattered not one whit to him, but he reckoned her close in years to him, which meant she was on the shelf when she’d married.
“Married only once?” he asked.
“Only once. Probably only once for all eternity.”
“You’re young. You don’t see yourself marrying again?”
She shook her head. “My husband was a good man, a kind man, but he held all the power. I miss him terribly. I wish he hadn’t died, but I have a bit more freedom now.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “To go to the theater, for example. He thought it would be a dreadful bore.”
