My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1) (20 page)

“I see,” she said slowly, but she shot him a look of disbelief. “Well, whatever your reasons were, I appreciate the lady’s maid. Getting all those torturous back hooks fastened on your own is rather hard.”

An image of her naked flesh flashed in his mind. He gritted his teeth, but a groan escaped him.

“Is something wrong? Are you in pain?”

He was in pain―the agony of lust. “Nothing’s wrong. Just considering all the work we have ahead. Let us begin the lesson, shall we?” The sooner he was not holding her in his arms the better for both his uncomfortable state and her innocence.

She nodded but sucked her lower lip between her teeth again, showing her nervousness.

“Quit sucking on your lip,” he said gently.

Immediately, her lower lip―pink, plump, and begging to be kissed―popped out from between her teeth. The desire coiling inside of him was a bloody nuisance. He gripped her hand and started counting off the steps of the waltz for them. After a moment, they began to move around the terrace. “Pick up your pace a bit.”

Instantly, she glanced down at her feet and stepped on his right foot. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, still looking at the ground.

Pausing, he hooked a finger under her chin and raised her gaze to his. “Never glance down at your feet. It will always cause you to misstep. Stare into your partner’s eyes. You won’t get many chances to be so near Worthington, so use the waltz to your advantage.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Hold his gaze. Lean toward him as you dance. Allow your chest to briefly brush against his.”

“I couldn’t do that!”

He chuckled at the bright scarlet of her cheeks. Her innocence was wonderful. And refreshing. Still, she could not be naive and still win Worthington. Colin shrugged. “All right. Don’t employ my suggestions. But I bet Lady Georgiana uses such tricks.”

“Of course she does.” Lady Amelia grinned wickedly. “There’s not much in the way of interesting talk for her to offer, so she has to resort to batting her lashes and swaying her hips.”

“Well, I know firsthand you have plenty of witty things to say, but if you want Worthington to notice you, I suggest you bat your beautiful lashes. Otherwise, you will have no audience for your clever rejoinders.”

“Oh, all right,” she said mulishly. “I’m sorry to be fussy. I know what needs to be done, Your Grace. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I need to lead my pig to the trough.”

Colin laughed at her odd comparison. “I like that Worthington is a pig in your mind.”

“That is not what I meant, Your Grace,” she said in a grave tone, though a smile played on her lips.

Colin paused in their steps. “I think since we will be working so closely together you should call me Colin in private.”

Her eyes widened, but she nodded. “And you may call me Amelia.”

“Well, Amelia,” he said, enjoying the way her name rolled of his tongue. “Shall we dance?”

“Of course we shall, Colin,” she replied with a giggle then pulled him into a turn.

Laughing, he tugged her back. “Though I am positive you would have no trouble leading any man, you should let your partner lead. It’s customary, and we men like to think we are in charge.”

Her grin flashed briefly, dazzling as it lit her eyes. “Then by all means, lead me.”

“Careful what you say to a man, Amelia,” Colin growled as he tugged her a bit closer and started counting off the steps once again. After a bit, when he realized that she was actually dancing with ease. He left off counting, and she did not miss a beat. He studied her when she looked elsewhere. She stood taller than he’d ever seen her, and her shoulders and hands were relaxed. When Amelia forgot about being concerned about her height, she acquired a bit of confidence that gave her grace. He squeezed gently on her hand. “When you relax, you dance quite well. And since we don’t have much time before your first social appearance as my prodigy, we need to work on other things.”

Her gaze found his and held it. “Such as?”

“Flirting,” he said, his blood heating with the thought. He longed to see her eyes light with desire. “Use your eyes.”

“Like this?” She fluttered her eyelashes rapidly.

“That’s a good start,” he said, holding his laughter at bay. He did not want to hurt her feelings. “Try doing it a bit slower.”

Slowly, she lowered her lashes, the fringe casting a shadow on her cheeks. Then with slow, sensual care of a courtesan born and bred for seduction, she opened them once more, her gaze, dark and beckoning, froze on his lips. An intense desire to capture her lips with his strummed through him. “I do believe you’ve already mastered the art of flirting with your eyes.”

“What shall we try now?” She cast a glance in the direction of Lucy then leaned close. “Shall I try to brush up against you?” The question was whispered with breathless earnestness.

“The fact is,” he said, his voice breaking as his blood thickened in his veins, his hands sliding to her waist of their own volition and molding against the gentle curves, “you are pressed against me now.”

The tiniest gasp escaped her as she glanced down. He looked too, though he knew damn well they were chest to chest. Despite his shirt and overcoat, he could have sworn he felt the heat of her body, her heart pounding in a steady rhythm, and the hardened peaks of her nipples. Fierce need pummeled him. Inhaling slowly, he gently set her away. “No need to practice this anymore. You’ve mastered it, as well.”

She grinned. “What shall we work on now?”

“The art of conversing,” he immediately replied. No more touching her or else he would take that kiss he neither had right to take nor want near as much as he did.

“I know how to talk perfectly well.” Her statement was punctuated with a snort of sorts that made him laugh.

Gripping her elbow, he led her to a bench across the cobblestone terrace and in front of a trickling fountain. Once seated, he faced her. “There is a difference between talking to your family or the ladies you know and talking to a gentleman in whom you are interested.”

“I know that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I have a mother, after all.”

She did indeed, but her mother had already confirmed that she had been negligent about informing Amelia exactly how to capture a man’s attention. The question remained as to why, though Lady Harthorne did appear willing to allow Amelia to learn now that she knew a marriage would be forthcoming no matter what.

“Let’s see what you think you know.” The anticipation that strummed through him surprised him. “Let’s pretend you are interested in capturing my attention.”

Amelia’s cheeks immediately pinked. “All right.”

“How would you respond if I said I want nothing more in a wife than one who looks pretty in a gown, can play the pianoforte expertly and will be adept at planning the perfect grand dinner party.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’d say you were in for one boring marriage.”

For some reason her answer pleased him immensely, though it was entirely wrong. He struggled to school his features, but he could feel a smile of appreciation pulling at his lips. “You cannot say that, or you will have no eligible gentlemen offer for you.”

She shrugged. “I would rather end up alone than married to a man who could never love the woman I truly am. I detest the pianoforte. And frankly, I loathe large dinner parties. You can never truly talk to the attendees and get to know them or what they really think. On most occasions, the conversation is meaningless and revolves around the weather, at best, or cruel gossip at worst. I’d much rather marry a man who prefers small intimate gatherings with true friends rather than large ostentatious affairs given only to show off one’s wealth.”

Colin knew he was staring at her, but he could not help it. Who was this creature? Was this truly how she felt or was she far better at the art of telling a man what he wanted to hear than Colin had ever suspected? Her words had echoed his sentiments almost exactly.

“Worthington is the sort of man who will want to have a great many large dinner parties.”

“You’re mistaken.” Her voice had raised a notch.

Colin tensed. Worthington had always been too self-conscious of the fact that his father was not nearly as wealthy as many other lords, and Worthington’s mother was an incredibly scheming woman. Colin was sure he was right about the man and what he wanted. He should let it be. If she had a false impression of Worthington, what did Colin care? He didn’t want to marry her. Hell, he didn’t want to marry at all. He had to. He’d simply find another apathetic woman to put in her place. The need to speak was like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
Damnation.
Drumming his fingers on his knee, he attempted to let it go, but he could not. If there was any chance she was as true as she seemed, he could not let her go on thinking Worthington was a paragon of goodness.

“I’m afraid I’m not mistaken. I went to school with him, and I know him well. He will want dinner parties. He will desire you to play the pianoforte, titter when he tells a joke, inane or not, and look stunning in a gown.”

“He will love me for me,” she snapped. “Not those silly things you mentioned.”

“Perhaps,” he replied, evenly. It was a struggle not to let the strange anger building in him seep into his tone. His eyes captured her wide, beautiful gaze. What would it be like for her to speak of his character with such confidence and assurance? The thought stunned him. Why did he care? He did not. Could not. Standing, he held out a hand to her. “Come, I have a surprise for you.”

Her gaze and her movements bespoke her hesitation, but she took his elbow and allowed him to lead her into the house with Lucy trailing behind them. With an unaccountable sense of excitement, she stopped in front of the three boxes he had brought from the seamstress. He picked up the first package and handed it to her. “A gift for tomorrow night’s dance.”

Her eyebrows rose in an expression of amazement. “You should not have.”

“Why not?” he said with an ease he did not feel at the moment. “I want you to ensnare Worthington if that’s what you truly want.”

Her lashes lowered as she glanced down at the box and opened it. An exclamation of delight came from her that filled him with instant pleasure. With trembling hands, she carefully set the box on a table and gathered the gown out of it.

“It’s exquisite.” Her eyes tilted to meet his, and his heart jerked at the tears glistening there. “I’ve never been given such a beautiful gown,” she whispered.

“I’ve never given such a gown.” Actually, he had never bought a gift for any woman in his life, save his mother. He had given plenty of blunt but never a personal gift. “I have to confess I enjoyed dress shopping much more than I ever thought I would.”

“Oh?” She pursed her lips in an irresistible smirk. “I now have a secret to lord over you.”

“I suppose you do,” he teased back, a foreign light-hearted feeling coming over him. “Try it on for me.”

Her eyes widened.

“I mean so that we can ensure it fits you properly.” Really, he wanted to see her in it.

“I suppose we do need to know that. I’ll be quick,” she said with a grin and dashed off before he could respond.

Colin barely had time to prowl the room before soft footsteps tapped against the hardwood stairs and two slippered feet appeared, followed by a peek of swishing rose skirts and finally, Amelia. She was stunning in the silk gown he had chosen for her. His breath snagged in his chest. “The color is perfect for you, just as I suspected it might be with your light hair and bright eyes. The contrast is magnificent.”

“Thank you,” she said, descending the last of the steps to come directly in front of him. She titled her head up as she assessed him. “I’m astonished how well this gown fits me, considering that it must have been a sample or perhaps one that was never picked up.”

Smiling, he shook his head. “I had it made today.” He tapped her back lightly and quickly. “Stand up straight.”

She complied while studying him. “You couldn’t have possibly had it made today.”

“Anything is possible when you have enough blunt, Amelia.” He swept his gaze over her body. The gown hugged every curve exactly as he had expected, and this garment was not even made by the finest dressmakers in London. When he got her to Town and had her fitted for the Season… His blood thickened as he considered the alluring picture she was going to present when she made her debut. No man she wanted would be able to resist her tomorrow night. Really, any man who even used half his faculties would not be able to resist her.

“Did my mother give you my measurements?”

“No. I did not need her to.”

Amelia frowned. “Is your accuracy in judging women’s measurements due to all the women you have known so intimately?”

He stiffened at the caustic remark. Not because it was not accurate. It was. Yet he wished it wasn’t. His choices, however well meaning they had been, had made him miserable and dishonorable. “I suppose that’s a true enough remark. Do you want all the sordid details of my life? It could provide you quite the risqué education.”

She pressed her hands to her cheeks as all the color leeched from her face. “No. You may keep your details. They are not mine to know, unless you need a friend with whom to share them.”

“I have enough friends,” he lied.

She cast her gaze away, wringing her hands in front of her. “I’m terribly sorry. That was a horrid thing to say. I don’t know what came over me.”

The last sentiment he understood perfectly. He was confused about what was possessing him lately, too. He had a desire to tell her why he had done the things he had, but he didn’t understand why. He wasn’t supposed to care what she thought, but a part of him did. He drew a breath and released it slowly as he glanced out the window toward the driveway where Harthorne’s carriage ambled up the path. “Your brother is home. Why don’t you go change so you can surprise him with how lovely you look in your new gown tomorrow night?”

In truth, Harthorne and he needed to sign the wager paper, and Colin didn’t want to chance his friend saying something to Amelia about his father’s will and the fact that Colin had to marry or lose his fortune. When she’d asked him if there was anything else she should know about the wager, he had considered telling her. But then he’d thought better of it. Right now, her head was full of fanciful ideas about love, and she might have refused to participate in the wager, despite her family’s predicament, if she’d known in actuality he had to marry. Women were too unpredictable to chance complete honesty.