When she entered the parlor, Charles turned from the fireplace, his greatcoat swirling around his polished black boots. She’d not forgotten how tall and imposing he was, but still, his elegance robbed her of breath. It only served to make her feel untidier. She resisted the impulse to hide the stain on her finger and hurried forward. “Charles, I didn’t expect you to call. The weather is so inclement….”
He took her ink-stained hand, his eyes amused as he raised it to his lips. “The curricle hood is up, and I think the sun is at least attempting to shine. We shan’t let a little weather keep us from our outing, shall we?”
“I am afraid I’m not really dressed…”
“You require a warm pelisse. But first, allow me.” His hands on her shoulders turned her slightly, and his fingers, cool and sure on her skin, did up the hook.
“Oh! Yes. Thank you.”
His citrus scent enveloped her, and she had to fight the urge to lean back against him. Her embarrassment at her appearance safely prevented her from succumbing. She waited a few seconds too long in breathless anticipation for him to slide his hands down her arms and turn her to him. To kiss her and declare his love for her.
But, of course, he didn’t. He was merely neatening his untidy betrothed, who was unable to dress herself. Such a grand duchess she would make!
Her cheeks grew hot. “If you’ll wait a moment.”
“Take your time, Nellie, the park will still be there.”
She took a deep breath to slow her racing pulse and went to get her pelisse, bonnet, and kid gloves to cover the cursed stain. Must he always be so…immaculate and composed?
They left the house. The rain eased as he escorted her into the curricle, taking care to make her comfortable with a rug over her knees. “Let them go, Reilly,” he called to the groom. “You may await me in the stables.”
“Oh, no! Please go to the servants’ entrance, Reilly,” Nellie called. “Tell Cook I said to give you a cup of tea and a slice of her pound cake.”
“Are you encouraging my servants to adopt bad habits?” Charles asked as he expertly feathered a turn.
She stared at him, unsure if he was serious. “He looked thoroughly miserable. I don’t believe it will spoil him too much to enjoy a cup of tea in comfort on such a day.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Indeed. He can sit by the fire and warm his toes. It is spring, not the depths of winter. My grooms are used to all weather. They live in the stables. A little cold and wet toughens them up.”
“The stables? Oh, you are too harsh!” Nellie cried. The corner of his mouth twitched. “You are teasing me,” she said with a half-laugh.
“It’s entirely possible.” Charles glanced at her briefly before drawing in the reins as they approached a laden wagon trundling heavily along the road. “Actually, the stable staff live in very comfortable accommodations above the stables. I’m sorry. It was irresistible, and I enjoy seeing you flare-up.”
“You do? That is horrid of you.” Nellie doubted he was sorry, but she couldn’t banish the laughter in her voice. “Enjoy it, for it will not happen again. How does the saying go? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.”
He chuckled. “That sounds like a dare.”
“You can take it as such,” she said with a teasing smile. He would not like to lose, she decided. But neither did she.
They entered the park gates and proceeded to the South Carriage drive, busy despite the drizzle. Carriages circled, and riders trotted down Rotten Row. Heads turned to view them, and many hailed the duke. Two men of a similar age to Charles strolled over to greet them.
*
Nellie laughed at one of Lawrence Frobisher’s witticisms. He had a repertoire of them for the ladies. It appeared Lawrence was better able to entertain her than Charles was. Damn it, but she was appealing when she laughed. Frobisher obviously thought so. Charles was torn between being captivated by that slightly abstracted air she adopted when wanting to evade him and a desire to have her really look at him as if she wanted him.
When she’d entered the salon to greet him with her dress undone and her hair in slight disarray, thoughts of her in his bed caused sudden heat to course through his veins. As he did up her gown, he fought the urge to pull her into an embrace and kiss her. Her neck seemed vulnerable, the skin velvety soft beneath his fingers. He almost pressed his lips there, but pulled himself up sharply, aware of where he was. He found it unsettling that it took so little for Nellie to light a firestorm within him.
Once they were married, things would settle down. He would have her nights, and she could spend her days writing poetry if she wished. Order would be restored.
“I like your friends,” Nellie said as they left the park, and the curricle rattled along the street. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled. “Mr. Frobisher is most amusing.”
“Yes, he can be on occasion.” When a pretty lady pays him attention. The damned roué, Charles thought, but not without some affection for a friend of long-standing. Women always took to Lawrence.
“I had luncheon with your father today.” He turned the horses into Grosvenor Street. “As you haven’t mentioned it, I assume he has yet to tell you that the cathedral has been booked for late July.”
She gasped. “Oh, so soon? I wonder what Mama will say.”
“Unfortunately, it was the only date that fits in with everyone. Your father agrees. Unless we wait until closer to Christmas.”
“Oh, no. Of course, we must accept it.”
He eyed the frown creasing her forehead. “I am sure your mother will rise admirably to the occasion.”
“Mama always
