A Duke in the Night(35)
“I’ve been ensuring my own safety and well-being for almost thirty years, Your Grace. I’m a capable woman, not a capricious lapdog. I promise not to throw myself out a moving equipage after a squirrel. At least while we’re traveling at high speeds.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Miss Hayward.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned at her, and Clara felt rivulets of longing run down her spine. No man had the right to look that handsome when he smiled. “Would you care to join us, Lady Tabitha?” Holloway continued. “I should have thought to extend the invitation. My apologies for my oversight.”
“No, thank you, Your Grace. My sister and I have an evening of collecting planned.” Tabby shifted her basket to her other hand and moved toward the door. “And I’ve kept her waiting long enough. Perhaps another time. Enjoy your evening, Miss Hayward, Your Grace.”
Clara watched the woman depart, excruciatingly aware that she was now alone with the duke. She turned back to face him warily. “Your Grace—”
“I can have the equipage brought around while you wait here, Miss Hayward,” Holloway interrupted her before she could say anything further. “But it is a beautiful evening that would be made only more beautiful by your company. Perhaps you would walk with me back to the dower house to collect our transportation?”
Clara blinked. Yes, the reckless part of her hissed. Absolutely not, the more prudent part of her countered. “Um.”
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Look for excuses to hide behind as to why you should not. You didn’t do it ten years ago. Don’t do it now.”
Clara could feel her heart thrumming in her chest. She looked up at him, completely at a loss for words. Simply lost, period.
“I’ll ask again, Miss Hayward. Perhaps you would like to walk with me a bit before we depart?”
“Yes,” she heard herself reply. “I’d like that.”
“Very good, then.” He offered her his arm.
Clara stepped forward, her hand sliding around his arm. Instantly his other hand came up to cover hers, and she could feel the heat of his palm bleeding through her thin gloves. She could also feel the steely strength of his arm and the way his body brushed against hers as they moved. She closed her eyes and told herself again that he was not escorting her to a night of wicked revelry but to a casual dinner with her brother. Which meant that if this night was to be bearable, it would be better if she cleared the air with the duke before they ever reached the tavern. She did not want to draw Harland into what had been an ill-advised topic of conversation.
She cleared her throat. “Your Grace, I’ve been thinking about our last conversation, and I believe I should apol—”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking a great deal about our last conversation as well,” he said, leading her down the steps into the early-evening light.
“It wasn’t my place to—”
“Please let me finish,” he said, and Clara made a funny noise in her throat. He looked at her quizzically. “What?”
“You will not offer me the same courtesy? You haven’t let me finish a sentence yet,” she murmured.
“For good reason, Miss Hayward.” He led her around the far side of Avondale and toward the path that would take them across the expanse of field and through the small copse of trees separating the dower house from Avondale. “You’ve been trying to apologize for something that requires no apology. In fact, I rather feel you’ve apologized to me far too much of late. And that, I can only conclude, is borne of a fear that, when challenged, I’ll conduct myself in a manner befitting a temperamental two-year-old, collect my sister, and storm my way back to London in a self-righteous rage.”
Clara turned her head to stare at him. “That sounds very…dramatic.”
“Doesn’t it?” His hand tightened over hers. “And that is not I. And that is not Anne either. She rarely complains of anything. Which is probably why I have done a poor job of considering her point of view of late. And I should be thanking you for drawing that to my attention.”
It suddenly became difficult to draw a full breath. They were walking very close together, and she could see the flecks of sapphire scattered in the azure of his irises. His eyes were even more startling given the sun-darkened planes of his face, and they had her firmly in their thrall. Should winged dragons start spewing from Avondale’s chimneys at that moment, Clara doubted she’d even notice.
“I see,” she managed to utter, because that was the only thing that her addled mind could come up with. Holloway had shaved just recently, and she could smell the sharp, clean scent of the soap he’d used. Near his ear was a slightly reddened mark where the blade had pressed a little too hard, and she suffered a sudden urge to rise on her toes and press her lips to that skin.
“I love my sister very much, Miss Hayward. And I do not want to see her unhappy.”
Good Lord, but if she didn’t remember how to breathe again soon, she might simply drop like a sack of onions at his feet. “I’m glad I could be of some small help, Your Grace.”
“Don’t ever stop,” he said in a low voice, searching her face.
The aching need to kiss him unfurled into a need for something far more wanton than mere kisses. Her nipples hardened against her bodice, and an unmistakable dampness had gathered between her legs.