My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1) (9 page)

Singing!
The fact registered in her brain. Philip did not sing. He was serious, almost always. She turned her gaze to the duke, who sang rather lustily right along with her brother. Her breath hitched in her throat as she drank in his appearance. Somewhere along the road to retrieve her brother and the road to bring him home, His Grace had lost his coat. And his cravat. She blinked and fanned her hot face, very glad to be in a dark room alone.

It was not a betrayal of her love for Charles to stare at the duke. She repeated the affirmation in her mind as she gazed at his corded neck muscles and lower still to the top of his chest that was visible without the cravat on, his shirt pulled open at the collar. The man’s skin appeared beautifully flawless. A little sigh escaped her, and in that instant the duke’s gaze seemed to be on her through the crack in the doorway.

Impossible.

A smile pulled at his lips even as he continued to sing. Surely, he could not see her. To be safe, she moved back several inches and pressed her body against the wall. She’d seen enough to know that Philip was not too terribly devastated and that was all she needed see for now she supposed. Once the men retired upstairs, she would be free to make her escape and tiptoe up to her own bedchamber, no one the wiser that she’d been here.

Surely the song could not be much longer and the men would indeed retire? As if on cue, the singing ended, and her brother spoke in a rather slurred tone. “Let me show you to your bedchamber.”

“There’s no need,” His Grace replied. “Your mother showed me where it is earlier and also directed my groom to his sleeping quarters.”

The duke took a step toward the library. Amelia tensed and caught her breath.

He took another step and spoke. “I think I will have a look around in the library for a book, if you don’t mind. If you recall, I sometimes have trouble falling asleep and reading usually helps that.”

Amelia tensed. This could not be happening. The duke could not mean to come into the library at this hour. It had to be close to midnight.

“I recall,” Philip slurred. “Browse freely. I’d stay but my head is spinning.”

“Not necessary at all,” the duke said. “Barnes will help you to your room, if you think you can make it without me.”

“Of course I can,” Philip boomed. “Between Barnes and the railing I’ll be upright all the way.”

Amelia rolled her eyes before glancing at the only door out of the room. She was trapped. All she could hope for now was that His Grace would be quick about obtaining a book and would not find cause to come near this side of the room. She fingered the thin cotton of her night rail and wished she had taken the time to don a wrapper.

Her heart began to pound as her brother and the duke’s coachman started up the stairs with loud clopping steps. She forced herself to breathe in slow, long measures that hopefully made no sound. It would be more than embarrassing to be caught in the library dressed as she was. She could think of no possible way to explain her presence here, and then His Grace would know she was not only an eavesdropper but a liar when she inevitably tried to conjure some excuse.

The duke’s footsteps tapped across the tile of the foyer and grew louder as he drew nearer. Flickering candlelight filled the room. She rubbed her sweaty palms on the sides of her gown and then fisted the material in her hands to help her keep from fidgeting out of nervousness. If she was lucky, the man would leave the rest of the candles unlit.

He paused in the middle of the room, as if deciding whether to do just that. She sent a silent prayer upward. The duke suddenly turned on his heel and marched straight toward her.

He stopped so close she could smell the scent of smoke and spirits on him. The aromas appealed to her in a rugged, raw way. Her belly clenched as he moved a step closer, and the heat emanating from his body surrounded her. When his fingers brushed the sleeve of her dress and the door beside her swished away and closed with a soft
click
she almost yelped, but light illuminated between them as he raised a candle. His humor, visible by the crinkles at his eyes and smile on his lips, took away her momentary fear.

Whatever could she say? Her mind raced, but her thoughts tripped over themselves as a slow, sinful smile spread across his face. “If you wanted to get me alone all you had to do was ask.”

She didn’t know whether to be outraged or amused, but her thoughts would not cooperate to form a proper rejoinder as she stared into his hazel eyes.

Colin had never kissed a woman who didn’t want something from him, and despite the fact that Lady Amelia probably did, since she had not responded to his question, the way she stared at him made him certain he wanted to kiss her. As he returned her gaze, his body warmed in a way it should not. She was not a classic beauty. Well, perhaps… He glanced at the slant of her high cheekbones. Maybe she was. It was hard to tell from the way she presented herself to Society, though certainly she possessed features that hinted at beauty.

Regardless, the smart thing to do would have been to turn around, walk out of the library and pretend he had never spied Harthorne’s sister with her nose pressed to the crack of the door. He trailed his gaze down the gentle slope of her neck, to the hollow between her collarbones where her pulse pushed frantically against her skin. His reputation must have preceded him. It had happened before. It would be no hardship to take Lady Amelia to his bed, if he weren’t tired of his reputation and that particular life.

He stepped back, putting a safe distance between them. “Were you waiting in the shadows for me?”

She gaped then squared her shoulders and drew herself a good two inches taller. “Certainly not.”

“Really?” He quirked his eyebrows. “Then what exactly were you doing hiding in the doorframe conveniently dressed in a thin, white cotton night rail far too easy to see through in flickering candlelight?”

Gasping, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Are you always this arrogant?”

He nodded, but his usual sense of confidence in judging women felt off with Lady Amelia.

“If you must know,” she said, each word clipped, “I waited up to make sure Philip was not too heartbroken over Lady Mary.”

Convenient excuse. “Why you and not your mother?” There, let her come up with a reasonable sounding explanation for that.

Lady Amelia looked away from him and toward the floor. “Mother has not been herself lately. She retires early quite frequently due to megrims. She went to bed and told me to do the same.” Returning her gaze to his, she set her hands on her hips. “Hence, my night rail, if you were going to ask.”

He had been, but he’d never admit it. For some inane reason he halfway believed her. “Why didn’t you simply come to the door when we arrived home and talk to your brother instead of lurking in the shadows?”

She smiled at him, and the gentle beauty of it tightened his chest. “You have no siblings, do you?” she asked.

“No.” He was not about to explain all the nasty details of his birth and how it left his mother barren and how she blamed him.

“Philip would never tell me if he had a broken heart, and wrong as it may be, I hid because I simply had to know. I thought he might mention something to you. He is my brother, and I love him dearly. I would do anything in my power to help him.”

By God, he believed her. He really did. Envy, because the pull in his gut could be nothing else, snaked through him. It was absurd to be envious of Harthorne having a sister who cared deeply for him, but nevertheless he was jealous and regretful at having misjudged her. The two emotions were foreign to him when it came to the fairer sex. He ran his hand through his hair, vastly uncomfortable and aware that Lady Amelia deserved an apology. “I’m terribly sorry.”

She shrugged, making her night rail stretch tight across her delicate shoulders. “It’s all right. I suspect you have encountered a great many women who lurk in shadows waiting for you. My friend Lady Constance, who you probably don’t remember from last Season―”

“I remember her,” he interrupted, fascinated with the way Lady Amelia seemed utterly unaware that she should have been greatly offended by his accusing her of wanting him.

“Do you?”

The skepticism in her voice was hard to miss.

“I do.” He leaned against the wall, amazed with the moment. It was not every day he carried on an innocent conversation in a dark library with a woman in nothing but her night rail who only wanted to talk. Hell, it was never the case. He cleared his throat. “She had red hair, brown eyes, and is about”―he raised his hand to his shoulder―“this tall.”

“That describes at least a dozen women I know in London,” Lady Amelia murmured, though her smile had grown wider.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, enjoying their easy banter. “But I would never forget a woman I’ve danced with.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, given I’m certain you’ve danced with an awfully lot of women.” Lady Amelia cocked her head to the side, and the movement caused a few tendrils of blond hair to fall out of her haphazard chignon. They curled gently around her neck and trailed down her bodice. One even nestled between the shadowy valley of her breasts.

Colin’s blood thickened as he stared. He shifted and forced himself to look strictly at her face. “She was unforgettable, believe me.” Lady Constance, with a dreamy look in her eyes, had come right out and told him he was beautiful as they danced.

Lady Amelia’s pure, rich laugh interrupted the memory and heated his blood further. Her forehead puckered with an adorable crease before she spoke. “I’m not sure you should go around saying that. She’s married now.”

“Wonderful for her,” he said, meaning it. “A delightfully unique creature and definitely not deserving of wallflower status.” Though, perhaps because she had been a wallflower she had still been rather sweet when he met her. No telling what she might be like in another year, now that she was married. All women seemed to develop an unpleasant nature once they were married, wallflower or not. “Is there a reason you mentioned her?”

Lady Amelia sucked her upper lip between her teeth as she had done earlier today after knocking over the vase. It didn’t escape his notice.

“I probably shouldn’t have.”

Here it came. The unkind remark. Some caustic way to make her friend look bad so Lady Amelia could cast herself in a more favorable light. One that shined brighter than Lady Constance. He pressed his lips together. If Lady Amelia was waiting on a sign from him to encourage her to be spiteful, she would be waiting all night.

She fidgeted where she stood and licked her lips repeatedly before speaking. “Well, it’s only that she told me how very kind you were to her and the great service you did by sweeping her away from the wallflower line and dancing with her. I know she wanted to thank you in person, but she said every time she tried to approach you, you had a beautiful woman on your arm―”

“On my arm?” he repeated, stunned by what Lady Amelia was saying.

She finally blushed, a lovely pink color he could just make out with the candle he held.

“Well, she actually said
clinging
to you.” Lady Amelia’s brow creased and she pressed a hand to Colin’s arm. “Don’t worry. She didn’t mean it cruelly. She said they were all very beautiful, and she felt rather awkward approaching you to thank you in that situation and because she had made a cake of herself, so I’m doing it for her.”

He had to force himself to ignore the odd, rather pleasant sensation her small hand created and focus instead on what she had just said. “You are thanking me for your friend?”

She nodded, causing another lock of hair to slip from her chignon. He had the urge to pull the last few pins out and see exactly what her hair looked like cascading around her shoulders. Instead, he gently removed her hand from his arm and said, “It was nothing. I was in the right place at the right time and saw a woman in need.”

She curled the hand that had been on his arm into a small fist before dropping her arm to her side and clutching at her night rail. Had he somehow hurt her? Even if he had, it had to be this way. Nothing good could come of the strange attraction he was feeling to her. He was sure she was an innocent, and as debauched a life as he had led, it had never included deflowering an innocent or his best friend’s sister.

“You’re too modest, Your Grace. Many men likely saw Constance standing with the other wallflowers that night and none of them made a move to dance with her or any of the other women.” Lady Amelia studied him for an unaccountably long moment. “She also told me of her words to you on the dance floor that night and how you gently and kindly dissuaded her from pursuing you.”

“Did she really?” He glanced down at his hands, not comfortable with Lady Amelia painting him as some sort of knight in shining armor. He was far from it. If Lady Constance had been married or a widow, he would not have dissuaded her from pursuing him and using him for his body because then he could have used her in return. He was not a good man, and Lady Amelia needed to understand that. “Did she tell you why I told her not to pursue me?”