Loving The Lost Duke (Dangerous Deceptions #1)(45)
‘I am exhausted, stunned, impressed and horrified,’ she announced. ‘I cannot manage another step. How many miles have we walked?’
Cal shrugged. ‘No idea. We could measure it out, there are large scale plans in the library.’ He sat down at the other end of the seat, stooped to take hold of her ankles, swung her feet up and pulled off her shoes. ‘Sit still and stop wriggling. Are you ticklish?’
‘No. Yes. Cal!’ He was massaging her feet, one large hand enveloping each foot, his thumbs working firmly on the aching arches. ‘Ouch… Oh, that is bliss.’
It was surprisingly easy to do as he said, despite the fact that he – a man – had her stockinged feet in his hands, that his long fingers were weaving all kinds of patterns over and under them and occasionally trailing daring fingertips up her ankles. ‘It feels as though we have done this before, sat here alone, very tranquil, very intimate… It feels familiar.’
‘Just lean back, relax.’ Under his hands the slender bones of her feet, the high sensitive arches, were as satisfying to caress as a fine piece of sculpture, only this statue was alive. ‘It feels right.’ Cal stopped the massage, swung his own legs up, fitted his feet on the bench between hers, leaned back against the folded shutter and closed his eyes.
He had recoiled from the thought of Madeleine here with her moods and her temper and her insecurities. But Sophie, this woman, this lovely, straightforward, honest, brave woman who stood up to him and spoke her mind, she was perfect.
He was going to have to tell her about his suspicions before much more time had passed. It was only fair and he knew now he could trust her discretion.
The thrumming beat of the gong reverberated even up here, through all the closed doors and the panelling. ‘Luncheon is served.’ He opened his eyes and found that she had closed hers, was, perhaps, quietly dozing. ‘Shall I send the footmen with one of the sedan chairs?’
That brought her awake with a start. ‘Sedan chairs?’ Sophie swung her legs down with an elegant little twist that kept her skirts demurely tight around her calves. A very provocative little twist.
‘My various elderly ancestors kept them so they could be carried about the place. I can just recall one very ancient great-aunt trailing fans and shawls and lap dogs as she was carted about by two perspiring footmen.’
‘I will save that treat for my old age.’ She put her shoes back on and stood up. ‘We mustn’t be late for luncheon or Mama will fret.’ She looked round at the rows of portraits as they passed. ‘But we must come back and you can teach me who everyone is and point out the characteristic Thorne chin or nose or eyebrows. Every family has something like that. Papa’s had rather large ears which I am glad to say I avoided.’
He was teasing her about her ears when they reached the bottom of the stairs but stopped as two footmen strode past followed, at a more stately pace, by Renshaw.
‘Carriages, Your Grace. Three, I believe. I have sent down to the kitchen to delay luncheon by half an hour and alerted the housekeeping staff.’
‘They are early and my aunt and uncle aren’t here yet.’ This was sensitive. Having Sophie, an unmarried lady, beside him to greet the guests was not according to protocol. It might shock some of the older ladies and Sophie could do without their disapproval. ‘Would your mother mind standing in for a few hours?’
‘I am sure not. I will go and find her.’
‘Lady Elmham is in the Chinese Drawing Room, Miss Wilmott. There is no need for you to exert yourself, ma’am. Perkins, present His Grace’s complements to her ladyship and explain the situation. Harris, James, delay things enough to allow Lady Elmham to reach the front door.’ Renshaw was as alert to social niceties as the most stringent chaperone.
‘There, you can fade comfortably into the background.’
Sophie sent him a grateful look and effaced herself to the back of the hall while the staff went about presenting the surface appearance of absolute calm with the minimum of frantic paddling below the surface. He had wondered how he would find things when he returned after so many years absence, but Prescott had kept things running as though the Duke had only left the day before and was expected back at any time. There were even a large proportion of staff whom he recalled from the years he had lived here and he smiled inwardly at his own pleasure at how warmly they greeted his return.
‘You need me, Calderbrook?’ It was Lady Elmham, almost as lovely as her daughter and so poised that no-one would have guessed that she had been summoned to act the hostess without warning.
‘Thank you. I wanted to have a married lady here in case any of the arrivals are the single girls without their mothers. Of course, this may well be my aunt and uncle, in which case I need not trouble you at all.’
The door was flung open at a nod from Renshaw, the footmen ran down the steps and Cal mentally squared his shoulders. He was home, he was the Duke and at any moment the curtain would go up on a play within a play. His courtship of Sophie and the acknowledgment of their betrothal created the perfect stage on which to watch how his uncle and cousin reacted to seeing him in the place they might covet enough to kill for. And if they wanted to do him harm, then where better than in a vast and rambling house, set in wide parklands and woodland and with a party of guests to provide distraction and cover. He made a mental note to have the archery butts set up.