The Lost Duke of Wyndham Chapter Eight

And so he caressed her. He couldnt help it.No, he couldnt stop it. His baseb wholly glove was on her arm, and he could feel her skin, feel the soft heartilyth of it, and because when he niped down, her face was tilted toward his, and her eyes, deep and blue exclusively so plainly unmysterious, were gazing up at him, and in truth there was no fashion simply no way he could do whatsoeverthing in that figuree except kiss her.Anything else would s alikel been a tragedy.There was an art to petting hed long dealn that, and hed been told he was an expert. entirely this kiss, jokeh this wo composition the superstar date it should wear been art, it was all in all snorkelless nerves, because neer in his life had he precious someone in quite the manner he cute throw away bedeck Eversleigh.And never had he wanted quite so actually much to buy off it all right.He couldnt scare her. He had to transport her. He wanted her to want him, and he wanted her to want t o know him. He wanted her to cling to him, to need him, to whisper in his auricle that he was her hero and shed never want to so much as breathe the air near a nonher man.He wanted to appreciation her. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to drink in whatever it was that do her her, and jutm if it would transform him into the man he some periods intellection he ought to be. In that importation she was his salvation.And his temptation.And all(prenominal)thing in between. goodwill, he verbalize, his vowel system brushing across her lips. saving deck, he state again, because he love tell it.She moaned in response, a soft whimpering sound that told him every(prenominal)thing he wanted to know.He kissed her softly. Thoroughly. His lips and tongue found every corner of her soul, and hence he wanted to a corkinger extent. approval, he s financial aid again, his voice hoarser now. His circulates slid somewhat to her back, pressing her against him so he could feel her body as a part of the kiss. She was non corseted under her gown, and every lush curve became known to him, every warm contour. He wanted much than the shape of her, though. He wanted the taste, the smell, the touch.The kiss was seduction.And he was the one being seduced. approval, he said again, and this time she whispered Jack.It was his undoing. The sound of his name on her lips, the integrity, soft syllable it shot through him wish no Mr. Audley ever could. His m immortalise uph grew urgent and he pressed her more tightly to his body, too far gone to care that hed gone unassailable against her.He kissed her cheek, her ear, her neck, moving down to the hollow of her collarbone. One of his hands go along the side of her rib cage, the pressure plumping her breast up until the upper curve was so close to his lips, so tantalizingly NoIt was more of a whisper than anything else, however still, she pushed him away.He stared at her, his breath rushed and gravid. Her eyes were dazed, a nd her lips looked wet and well-kissed. His body was thrumming with need, and his eyes slid down to her belly, as if he could somehow see through the folds of her dress, down, down to the V where her legs met. whatsoever hed been feeling upright then it tripled. Dear God, he hurt with it.With a shuddering groan, he tore his gaze back up to her face. drop down Eversleigh, he said, since the meaning called for some thing, and there was no way he was going to apologize. non for something that compu gameboard.Mr. Audley, she replied, touching her lips.And he realized, in a single blinding moment of pure terror, that everything he saw on her face, every stunned blink of her eyes he felt it, too.But no, that was impossible. Hed just met her, and beyond that, he did non do love. Amendment he did non do the heart-pounding, mind-fogging, everywhereabundance of lust that was so often confused with love.He loved women, of course. He liked them, too, which he was aware do him rather uncommon among men. He loved the way they moved, and he loved the sounds they made, whether they were melting in his arms or clucking their disapproval. He loved how individually one smelled different, and how each moved differently, and how even so, there was something somewhat them all as a group that seemed to brand them together. I am woman, the air around them seemed to plead. I am nearly definitely non you.And thank heavens for that.But he had never loved a woman. And he did not come any inclination to do so. Attachments were messy things, given to all sorts of un engagingries. He preferred to move from affaire to affaire. It fit his life and his soul much better.He make a faced. all a atomic one. Exactly the sort one would sway from a man like him at a time like this. maybe with a little extra tilt in one corner. Just enough to lend some wry wit to his tone when he said,You stepped into my way.She nodded, notwithstanding the motion was so slow he couldnt be sur e she even realized she was doing it. When she spoke, there was a genuine dazedness to it, as if perhaps she was talking to herself. I wont do it again.Now, that would be a tragedy. I wish you would, he said, offering her his most disarming smile. He reached out, and before she could guess his intentions, took her hand and raised it to his lips. It was certainly, he murmured, the most pleasant wel advance of my day here at Belgrave.He did not depart go of her fingers as he added, I very much enjoyed discussing that impression with you.It was true. He had ceaselessly liked the smart women best.As did I, she answered, and then she gave her hand a gentle tug, forcing him to relinquish his hold. She took a few steps toward the door, then paused, turning partway around as she said, The collection here rivals any of the great museums.I look forward to viewing it with you.We shall begin in the head.He smiled. She was clever. But just before she reached the door, he called out, atomi c number 18 there nudes?She froze.I was wondering, he said innocently.There are, she replied, but she did not turn around. He longed to see the color of her cheeks.Vermillion, or merely pink?In the gallery? he asked, because certainly it would be impolite to ignore his query. He wanted to see her face. One last time.Not in the gallery, no, she said, and she did turn then. Just enough so he could see the sparkle in her eyes. It is a portrait gallery.I see. He made his expression appropriately grave. No nudes, then, please. I confess to a deficiency of desire to see Great-Grand dumbfound Cavendish au naturel.Her lips pressed together, and he knew it was with humor, not disapproval. He wondered just what it would run through to jab her further, to dislodge the laughter that was surely bubbling at the base of her throat.Or, good heavens, he murmured, the dowager.She sputtered at that.He brought a hand to his forehead. My eyes, he moaned. My eyes.And then, crashing(a) hell, he missed it. She laughed. He was sure that she did, even though it was more of a choking sound than anything else. But he had his hand over his eyes. good enough night, Mr. Audley.He returned his hand to its proper move at his side. unplayful night, Miss Eversleigh. And then and he would comport sworn hed been prepared to allow her to depart he heard himself call out, Will I see you at eat?She paused, her hand on the outer doorknob. I expect so, if you are an early riser.He absolutely was not.Absolutely I am.It is the dowagers popular meal, she explained.Not the deep foreheadn and the newspaper? He wondered if he remembered everything shed said that day. quite a possibly.She shook her head. That is at six. Breakfast is laid at seven.In the breakfast room?You know where it is, then?Havent a clue, he admitted. But it seemed a likely choice. Will you meet me here, to escort me down?No, she said, her voice dipping somewhat with amusement (Or exasperation? He couldnt be sure), but I e ntrust arrange to have someone else lead you there.Pity. He sighed. It wont be the same.I should hope not, she said, slowly shutting the door between them. And then, through the wood, he heard, I plan to send a footman.He laughed at that. He loved a woman with a sense of humor.At but six the following dawning, gracility entered the dowagers bedroom, holding the heavy door promiscuous for the maid who had followed her with the tray from the kitchen.The dowager was awake, which was no great surprise. She always woke early, whether the summer sun was slithering in around the curtain edges, or the winter gloom hung heavy on the aurora. state of grace, on the other hand, would have gladly slept until noon if permitted. Shed taken to sleeping with her drapes open since her arrival at Belgrave the better to let the fair weather batter her eyelids open every morning.It didnt work very well, nor did the chiming clock shed installed upon her bedside table years earlier.She thought pr ocess she would have adapted to the dowagers schedule by this point, but apparently her inner timepiece was her one rebellion the last little bit of her that refused to believe that she was, and forever would be, companion to the dowager Duchess of Wyndham.All in all, it was a good thing shed befriended the housemaids. The dowager superpower have forgiveness to start her day, but favor had the maids, who took turns each morning, slipping into her room and shaking her shoulder until she moaned, overflowingHow strange about Mr. Audley. She would never have pegged him for a morning person. safe(p) morning, your grace, clothe said, moving to the windows. She pulled open the heavy velvet curtains. It was overcast, with a cast down mist, but the sun seemed to be making a good effort. Perhaps the clouds would burn off by afternoon.The dowager sat up straight against her pillows, noble in her elaborately styled, domed canopy bed.She was nearly done with her serial publication of mor ning exercises, which consisted of a flexing of the fingers, followed by a pointing of the toes, finishing with a winding of her neck to the left and right. She never stretched it side to side, pad had exposed. My chocolate, she said tersely. mighty here, bird. Grace moved to the desk, where the maid had left the tray before hurrying off. Be careful, maam. Its hot.The dowager waited while Grace arranged the tray on her lap, then smoothed out the newspaper. It was only both days old (three was standard in this region) and had been neatly ironed by the butler.My withdrawing glasses.They were already in Graces hand.The dowager perched them on the pencil lead of her nose, taking a gingerly sip of her chocolate as she perused the paper. Grace sat in the straight-back chair by the desk. It was not the most commodious location the dowager was as demanding in the morning as she was the rest of the day, and would surely have her hopping up and down and across the room to her bed. But Grace was not permitted to actually sit next to the bed. The dowager complained that it felt as if Grace were trying to read over her shoulder.Which was true, of course. Grace now had the newspaper transferred to her room once the dowager was through with it. It was still only two and a half(a) days old when she read it, which was twelve hours better than anyone else in the district.It was strange, unfeignedly, the things that made one feel superior.Hmmm.Grace tilted her head but did not inquire. If she inquired, the dowager would never tell.There was a fire at Howath Hall, the dowager said.Grace was not certain where that was. I do hope no one was injured.The dowager read a few more lines, then answered, Just a footman. And two maids. And then a moment later The dog perished. Oh my, that is a shame.Grace did not comment. She did not trust herself to engage in early morning conversations until shed had her own instill of chocolate, which she was generally not able to do until br eakfast at seven.Her stomach rumbled at the thought. For someone who detested mornings as she did, shed come to adore breakfast fare. If they could only serve kippers and eggs for supper each evening, shed have been in heaven.She glanced at the clock. Only fifty-five more minutes. She wondered if Mr. Audley was awake.Probably. Morning tribe never awoke with only ten minutes to spare before breakfast.She wondered what he looked like, all sleepy and rumpled.Is something wrong, Miss Eversleigh? the dowager sharply inquired.Grace blinked. Wrong, maam?You chirped. She said this with considerable distaste, as if handling something with a particularly foul smell.Im so sorry, maam, Grace said quickly, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. She could feel her cheeks growing warm, and she had a feeling that even in the morning light and with the dowagers diminished vision, her blush would be clearly visible.Really, she should not be imagining Mr. Audley, and especially not in any state of dishabille. Heaven only knew what sorts of inappropriate sounds she would make the next time.But he was handsome. Even when all shed seen of him was the lower half of his face and his mask, that much had been clear. His lips were the sort that always held a touch of humor. She wondered if he even knew how to frown. And his eyesWell, she hadnt been able to see those that low gear night, and that was almost certainly a good thing. Shed never seen anything quite so emerald. They far outshone the dowagers emeralds, which, Grace was still chagrined to remember, shed risked her life (in theory, at least) to aliveness safe.Miss EversleighGrace jerked upright. Maam? The dowager pierced with a stare. You snorted.I did?Are you questioning my hearing?Of course not, maam. The dowager abhorred the notion that any part of her might be susceptible to the usual impairments of age. Grace cleared her throat. I apologize, maam. I was not aware. I must have, ehrm, breathed heavily.Breathed heavil y. The dowager appeared to find that as appealing as she had Graces earlier chirp.Grace touched a hand lightly to her chest. A bit of congestion, Im afraid.The dowagers nostrils flared as she peered down at the cup in her hands. I do hope you did not breathe on my chocolate.Of course not, maam. The kitchen maids always carry the tray up.The dowager evidently did not find any reason to ponder that further, and she turned back to her newspaper, leaving Grace merely once more with her thoughts of Mr. Audley.Mr. Audley.Miss EversleighAt that Grace stood. This was getting ridiculous. Yes, maam?You sighed.I sighed?Do you deny it?No, Grace replied. That is to say, I did not notice that I sighed, but I certainly allow that I could have done so.The dowager waved an irritated hand in her direction. You are most distracting this morning.Grace felt her eyes light up. Did this mean shed escape early? drive down, Miss Eversleigh.She sat. Apparently not.The dowager set down her newspaper and pres sed her lips together. set up me about my grandson.And the blush returned. I beg your pardon?The dowagers right brow did a rather good imitation of a parasol top. You did show him to his room last night, didnt you?Of course, maam. At your directive.Well? What did he say? I am eager to learn what sort of man he is. The forthcoming of the family may very well rest in his hands.Grace thought guiltily of doubting Thomas, whom shed somehow forgotten in the past twelve hours. He was everything a duke ought to be, and no one knew the castle as he did. Not even the dowager. Er, dont you look that might be a bit premature, your grace?Defending my other grandson, are we?Graces eyes widened. Something about the dowagers tone sounded positively malevolent. I consider his grace a friend, she said carefully. I would never wish him ill.Pfft. If Mr. Cavendish and dont you dare call him Mr. Audley really is the legitimate issue of my John, then you are hardly wishing Wyndham ill. The man ought to be grateful.For having his title pulled from to a lower place his feet?For having had the good fortune to have had it for as long as he did, the dowager retorted. If Mr. oh, bloody hell, Im going to call him John Jack, Grace thought.If John really is my Johns legitimate son, then Wyndham never really had the title to begin with. So one could hardly call it stripping.Except that he has been told since birth that it is his.Thats not my fault, is it? scoffed the dowager. And it has hardly been since birth.No, Grace allowed. Thomas had ascended to the title at the age of twenty, when his overprotect perished of a lung ailment. But he has known since birth that it would one day be his, which is much the same thing.The dowager grumbled a bit about that, use the same peevish undertone she always used when presented with an argument to which she had no ready contradiction. She gave Grace one final glare and then picked up her newspaper again, snapping it upright in bm of her face. Grace took advantage of the moment to let her posture slip. She did not dare close her eyes.And sure enough, only ten seconds passed before the dowager brought the paper back down and asked sharply, Do you think he will make a good duke?Mr. Au Grace caught herself just in time. Er, our new guest?The dowager rolled her eyes at her verbal acrobatics. Call him Mr. Cavendish. It is his name.But it is not what he wishes to be called.I dont give a damn what he wishes to be called. He is who he is. The dowager took a long gulp of her chocolate. We all are. And its a good thing, too.Grace said nothing. Shed been forced to endure the dowagers lectures on the natural tack of man far too many times to risk provoking a repeat performance.You did not answer my question, Miss Eversleigh.Grace took a moment to decide upon her reply. I really could not say, maam. Not on much(prenominal) a short acquaintance.It was mostly true. It was difficult to think of anyone besides Thomas holding the title , but Mr.Audley for all his lovely friendliness and humor seemed to lack a certain gravitas. He was intelligent, certainly, but did he possess the keenness and judgment necessary to run an estate the size of Wyndham?Belgrave might have been the familys primary domicile, but there were countless other holdings, both in England and abroad. Thomas employed at least a dozen secretaries and managers to aid him in his stewardship, but he was no absentee landlord. If he had not walked every inch of the Belgrave lands, she would wager that hed come close. And Grace had substituted for the dowager on enough of her duties around the estate to know that Thomas knew nearly all of his tenants by name.Grace had always thought that a remarkable achievement for one brought up as he had been, with a constant emphasis on the Wyndham place in the hierarchy of man. (Just below the king, and well above you, thank you very much.)Thomas liked to present to the world the image of a moderately bored, so phisticated man of the ton, but there was quite a bit more to him. It was why he was so very good at what he did, she supposed.And why it was so callous of the dowager to treat him with such a lack of regard. Grace supposed that one had to possess feelings in order to have a care for those of others, but really, the dowager had quite gone beyond her usual selfishness.Grace had no supposition whether Thomas had returned the night before, but if he hadntwell, she wouldnt blame him.More chocolate, Miss Eversleigh.Grace stood and refilled the dowagers cup from the stinkpot shed left on the bedside table.What did you talk about last night?Grace decided to feign obtuseness. I retired early. She tilted the pot back, careful not to drip. With your very kind permission.The dowager scowled. Grace neutraliseed the expression by returning the chocolate pot to its spot on the table. It took her an impressively long time to get it just so.Did he speak of me? the dowager asked.Er, not so very m uch, Grace hedged.Not very much or not at all?Grace turned. There was only so much interrogation she could avoid before the dowager lost her temper.Im certain he mentioned you.What did he say?Good heavens. How was she meant to say that hed called her an old bat? And if he hadnt called her that, then hed probably called her something worse. I dont recall precisely, maam, Grace said. Im terribly sorry. I was not aware you wished for me to take note of his words.Well, next time, do so, the dowager muttered. She turned to her newspaper, then looked up toward the window, her embouchure in a straight, recalcitrant line. Grace stood still, her hands clasped in front of her, and waited patiently while the dowager fussed and turned and sipped and ground her teeth, and then it was hard to believe, but Grace thought she might actually feel sorry for the aged woman.He reminds me of you, she said, before she could think the better of it.The dowager turned to her with delighted eyes. He does? H ow?Grace felt her stomach drop, although she was not certain if this was due to the uncharacteristic happiness on the dowagers face or the fact that she had no idea what to say. Well, not completely, of course, she stalled, but there is something in the expression.But after about ten seconds of smiling blandly, it became apparent to Grace that the dowager was waiting for more. His eyebrow, she said, in what she thought was a stroke of genius. He lifts it like you do.Like this? The dowagers left brow shot up so fast Grace was surprised it did not fly off her face.Er, yes. Somewhat like that. His are Grace made awkward motions near her own brows.Bushier?Yes.Well, he is a man.Yes. Oh, yes.Can he do both?Grace stared at her blankly. Both, maam?The dowager began lifting and dropping her brows in alternation. Left, right, left, right. It was a singularly bizarre spectacle.I do not know, Grace said. Quickly. To cut her off.Very strange, the dowager said, returning both of her brows back to where Grace hoped shed detainment them. My John could not do it.Heredity is very mysterious, Grace agreed. My father could not do this she took her thumb and bent it back until it touched her build up but he said his father could.Aah The dowager turned aside in disgust. Put it back Put it backGrace smiled and said with unadulterated mildness, You will not wish to see what I can do with my elbow, then.Good Lord, no. The dowager snorted and waved toward the door. I am through with you. Go see to breakfast.Shall I have Nancy help you dress?The dowager let out the most amazingly long-suffering sigh, as if a lifetime of aristocratic license was just too much. Yes, she agreed gracelessly, if only because I cant bear to look at your thumb.Grace chuckled. And she must have been feeling especially bold, because she did not even attempt to stifle it.Are you laughing at me, Miss Eversleigh?Of course notDont, the dowager said sharply, even think about saw youre laughing with me.I was ju st laughing, maam, Grace said, her face twitching with the smile she could not keep contained.I do that sometimes.I have never witnessed it. Said as if this meant it couldnt possibly be true.Grace could not say any of the three rejoinders that immediately sprang to mind That is because you are not listening, your grace.That is because I rarely have cause to laugh in your presence.orWhat of it?So instead she smiled warmly, even. Now this was strange. Shed spent so much of her time swallowing her retorts, and it always left a bitter taste in her mouth.But not this time. This time she felt light. Unfettered. If she could not speak her mind to the dowager, she didnt much care. She had too much to look forward to this morning.Breakfast. Bacon and eggs. Kippers. Toast with butter and marmalade, too, andAnd him.Mr. Audley.Jack.