Page 73 of Sincerely, the Duke
“Hidden as we are, no one is close enough to see us right now,” he whispered, brushing aside her concerns. “I will hear if anyone approaches.”
His mouth opened once more and met hers with hunger. She yielded sweetly into his arms with soft gasps of pleasure. With urgent hands he skimmed lightly, teasingly over her breasts and kissed down the column of her neck to the hollow of her throat where his tongue tasted her warm skin.
“We could have everyone in the ton talking about our behavior before the day is over. This is very improper, Your Grace,” she whispered.
“And delicious,” he answered. “And satisfying.”
The sounds of harness and carriage wheels approaching registered at the back of his mind. No matter the way Edwina was making him feel, Rick had to stop. Smiling, he eased away from her, picked up the umbrella from between his knees, and, leaving it open, handed it to her.
Edwina took in a deep solid breath, straightened her shoulders, and smoothed down her dress. “Thank you,” she said with a pert expression. “I always knew there must be more than one use for a parasol.”
The wordlovefloated across his mind once again and he let the idea linger for a moment before chuckling as he picked up the reins.
CHAPTER 24
THE ART OF BEING A FINE GENTLEMAN
SIR DUDLEY SAMSON PEMBERTON FINE
There comes a time in a gentleman’s life when there is no correct answer to a conflict. A fine gentleman knows when that time has come.
Something startled Rick awake. He didn’t know what it was, but his inner sense told him all was not well. His head pounded and his breathing was heavy. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he quickly looked over at Edwina. In moonlight from the window, he saw her sleeping peacefully beside him. A second later, he realized his nightshirt was soaked.
Damnation! Did he have the fever again?
He put his hand to his forehead. It wasn’t burning hot right now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fevered. He knew what would happen if it raged unchecked. Through the fog of just waking, he realized he needed to mix and drink some willow bark and the powders the apothecary made for him and hope it would stop further progression of the fever. The medicines were in the herb room off the kitchen where all remedies were kept. First, he had to get up without waking Edwina.
After easing off the bed, he was light-headed for a moment but the feeling cleared quickly. He made it to hisroom and quietly closed the door. He stepped into his trousers before walking barefoot belowstairs. As soon as he rounded the door to the kitchen, he sensed something was wrong and tensed.
A lone burning candle was on the edge of the table. Palmer would have a conniption if he knew someone had been so careless, but then he heard a sound. Rustling. Rifling? Though he’d grown up in the house, this wasn’t an area he was familiar with, but he believed the noise came from inside the dry larder.
Someone was either getting an early start to their workday, or pilfering food. He didn’t have time to worry about which. He only wanted to make the tonic and go back to bed in hopes of sleeping off the fever.
Rick started for the herb room at the same time someone rushed out of the larder. They almost collided. A woman gasped. She wore a long black cape with a hood pulled low. In her hands she held a basket stuffed with bread, cheese, and jars of cooked fruit.
He took a step forward and held his light toward her face.
She stood as if frozen for a moment before whispering, “Jumping Jupiter, Your Grace. You scared the daylights out of me. Lower that candle before you blind me.”
Her face was unnaturally pale and her eyes searched behind him as if she expected someone else to walk in any second. “Eileen, what in the bloody hell are you doing down here in the middle of the night?” he asked as quietly as she had spoken. “Dressed like that?”
“At least I am covered. You are not properly clothed either.”
Rick placed his light on the table, straightened his shoulders, and tucked the front tail of his shirt into histrousers. “I didn’t expect to meet anyone,” he groused. “What are you doing in here?”
Still watchful of the doorway behind him, she pulled the basket to her chest as if to protect herself from an assailant. “Nothing.”
He leaned toward her and looked closely at her. “Are you a somnambulist? Uncover your head so I can determine what is wrong with you.”
“I am not asleep,” she said indignantly, shaking the hood from her head. “I’m very much awake and know what I’m doing.”
Rick felt like hell. The last thing he wanted was to put up with this kind of behavior. A chill that had nothing to do with a fever trembled through him when he realized what her denial and actions meant.
The muscles at the back of his neck tensed. “Then what are you doing gathering food like a common footpad?”
“If you must know,” she said in a reluctant tone, “I am leaving and going to Slough. Since Mr. Herschel has never answered any of my letters, I’ve decided to go to his door and hope he will see me.”
“No, you aren’t.” Rick grunted. Along with feeling like hell, his wet shirt was making him cold and irritable. He had no patience for this kind of nonsense prattle or to figure out what madness she had cooked up in that exceptional brain of hers. “I’m not letting you do anything so foolish. Steal away in the middle of the night as if a schoolboy yearning for home? If the man didn’t answer, he had a good reason. It means he doesn’t have time to see you.”
