A Duke in the Night(38)
“In fact, as I understand it, if a titled man hasn’t taken his son to his favored courtesan or mistress by the time the young buck is sixteen, he’s failed in one of his principal duties as a father.” She tilted her head. “Am I wrong?”
Holloway was frowning fiercely now.
“Luckily, my mother married a very loving, very patient, very open-minded man. Not every bride is quite so lucky. So when she had daughters of her own, she encouraged us to…educate ourselves. At the very least understand exactly how it is that children are conceived. Empower ourselves with knowledge and understanding. And yes, experience, though that is a personal choice.”
Holloway still hadn’t spoken.
“You don’t approve.”
He shook his head. “Don’t do that. Put words in my mouth again.”
“Your Grace—”
“August.” He touched his finger to her lips. “I asked you to call me August.” He made a funny sound of amusement. “Given the nature of this…entire conversation, I think we are well beyond proper titles. And I don’t think it’s my place to approve or disapprove.”
Clara traced one of the buttons on the front of his coat with her thumb, something squeezing relentlessly in her chest. “I appreciate that, but I’m not sure that is entirely true.”
“What do you mean?”
She kept her eyes firmly on the button beneath her fingers, reluctant to look up. “There is an old midwife who lives just outside Dover,” she went on. “During the summer, I hire her to speak with my students. Fill in any gaps in their education when it comes to…amorous congress and childbearing. Answer questions about a woman’s health that most of the world they live in deems inappropriate or scandalous to ask. Some of my students are fortunate enough to have women in their lives who have already taught them much, but others are as ignorant as my mother was.” Clara paused. “Your sister will be part of that class.”
The duke stepped back from her, his hands falling away, taking his heat with him. Part of Clara, the part that had managed to find a little sanity, was relieved. The other part of her wanted to weep with frustration, loss, and regret. She tried to read his expression, but his features gave none of his thoughts away.
“If ever there was a time you’d like to collect your sister and storm back to London in a self-righteous rage, now would be it,” she muttered.
“Have you lost your mind?” Holloway demanded.
Clara’s chin came up along with her indignation. “I’ve had young girls confess to me that they thought they were dying the first time they got their monthly courses because no one had taken the time to explain even that. I cannot abide by such—”
“Stop. You misunderstand me again,” he said, sounding a bit strangled. “Completely.”
“Your Grace—”
“August.”
“August.” She squared her shoulders.
“Thank you. And I’m not…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words. “I am not sure that I am the…source of guidance my sister needs when it comes to…feminine matters. The fact that you have taken it upon yourself to provide such guidance is a relief.” He exhaled heavily. “So, yes, you’ve lost your mind if you think I think I can do better. If that makes any sense.”
“Oh.” The strange feeling that had been squeezing her heart returned.
August braced his hands on the stone wall and leaned forward, studying the horizon. “You are full of surprises, Miss Hayward.”
“Clara.”
He turned his head.
“Given the nature of this entire conversation, I think we are well beyond proper titles.” She echoed his words, trying to make it light, but she wasn’t sure if she had been able to keep the longing from them.
“Well, then, I’m glad we got that sorted.” He straightened and stepped toward her again. “Clara.”
The sound of her name on his lips set her pulse pounding. Cocooned as they were by their sun-kissed privacy, it was tempting to forget that reality existed. “I understand if you’re scandalized. Horrified. Given what—who—I am supposed to be. Though I’m not prepared to apologize for it.”
“Which is what? What are you supposed to be?”
“A woman of modesty and virtue. A woman who is deemed fit to tutor her young charges not because of her experience and knowledge of the world, but because of her lack of it.”
“I don’t want the woman you’re supposed to be,” he said, his voice low. “I never have. I want the woman you are, and everything that that encompasses. I wanted her ten years ago, and I want her now.” He stepped closer to her, his hand coming up to toy with the ribbon at the front of her bodice. “A woman who knows her own mind. A woman who can make a man lose his. Make him do reckless things.”
“August—”
He closed the remaining distance, once again pressing her back against the stone fence. His hands went to her lower back and then suddenly they dropped to her buttocks, and she was being lifted up, coming to sit on the edge of the cool stone. He ran his hands down the backs of her thighs, shoving her skirts up slightly and bringing her legs to rest on either side of his hips.
Desire streaked through Clara. She tightened her legs around him, her heels pressed firmly against the small of his back. August made a guttural sound of approval and leaned into her, and she could feel his own arousal, pressed firmly against her core.