The Duke Can Go to the Devil (28 page)

BOOK: The Duke Can Go to the Devil
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As if summoned from his thoughts, Charity herself entered the room, her hand settled comfortably on the arm of her husband. Her copper hair was pulled back in a becoming chignon with soft curls framing her freckled face. Grinning broadly, he strode over to greet them. He hadn't been certain they would make it in time, given the
rainy weather they'd had this week, so he was thrilled to see them.

As he raised a hand in welcome, his gaze shifted to the blond woman who stepped in just behind her. Almost before his brain realized who she was, Dering's heart slammed to a stop, taking with it all the air in his lungs.

Felicity?

What on earth was she doing here, in his house? He hadn't even heard she was coming to the county, let alone to his home. Shock held him momentarily rooted to the ground, his hand up and mouth half open, before some sane, blessedly rational part of him pushed through, propelling him back into motion. Before he could get a true thought in his head, Charity spied him and broke out in a wide smile.

“Dering,” she exclaimed, coming forward to greet him with both hands extended. “How wonderful to see you again.”

It took every ounce of his willpower to focus on her and not on the vision from his past that was just behind her. His mouth stretched into something he hoped looked like a smile as she clasped his hands and kissed his cheek. “And you,” he murmured, his voice seeming to come from somewhere outside his body. Having restarted, his heart seemed like it was thumping loud enough to be heard over the din of conversation around them.

How could Felicity be here? He hadn't seen her in ages, despite her efforts to visit him when she was in town over the years. He had purposely avoided her company, in the beginning not wanting to see her when she was a glowing newlywed, and then later when it had just been easier to stay away. He'd put his ridiculous adolescent love behind him, and it wasn't something that he wanted to think about now.

Unfortunately, the choice was proven to be out of his hands as Charity leaned back and gestured to Felicity. “I do hope you received our note,” she said, completely unaware of the turmoil within him as he continued to smile politely. “We didn't hear back from you, but I know you and Felicity are old friends and, more to the point, I know you well enough to know that you firmly believe that when it comes to parties, the more the merrier.”

Dering cocked his head. Note? He had been too damn busy today to bother with sorting out the correspondence that was piling up in his study. What he wouldn't give to go back in time and read the bloody mail in order to give himself some warning. Although, would it have been better or worse to know that Felicity was here in Bath and would make an appearance this evening? Impossible to say.

Drawing a fortifying breath, he turned his full attention to Felicity. Her smile was open and sincere as she met his gaze, every bit as lovely as the girl he had once known. Even though he didn't want to appear overly interested, his gaze took in every inch of her face. She'd matured since he'd last seen her—­her cheeks were less round and her eyes showed the first sign of laugh lines—­but she was unmistakably the girl he remembered.

Dipping his head, he said, “It's been an age, Felicity. I hope you are well.” Thank God he sounded normal. Hopefully no one would guess he was so affected by her unexpected presence, least of all her.

Her smile tilted into a wry impression of itself. “Is that the greeting I get after ten years?” She shook her head as though sorely disappointed. “Do come here and greet me properly. You are, after all, the one person in the city I have been looking forward to seeing the most.”

Swallowing against the stubborn lump in his throat, he stepped forward, unsure of what a proper greeting between them even looked like after all these years. Gingerly, he reached for one of her hands and brought it to his lips, pressing a quick featherlight kiss to the leather at her knuckles. The teasing scent of gardenia wafted to his nose and he inhaled before he could think better of it.

It was the scent of all his favorite memories... as well as the worst one.

She squeezed his hand as he lowered it, her eyes bright as she smiled. “Much better. Now, perhaps we can take a turn about the room so that you can explain why you have been such a dreadful correspondent these last few years.”

His wits were slowly coming back to him, enough that he could see how bad an idea that would be. He needed a moment to gather himself. It had been almost a decade; there was no reason why she should still affect him so strongly. Her presence had blindsided him, and he needed time to get himself together.

“How I would love to, but I have quite a bit to tend to at the moment. Please do enjoy yourselves, and perhaps we can find a moment a little later?”

Mild surprise showed on both Felicity's and Charity's faces, but neither of them challenged him. He smiled, nodded to Cadgwith, then plunged back into the crowd, hoping to lose himself in more ways than one. He might be a coward, but he was a prudent one.

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