Page 62 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
“How is your design going?” Jo asked her.
Lilly smiled. “It would be so marvelous if it were ever built, Jo.”
“Show me,” Jo said.
She sat beside Lilly as her friend opened her most recently completed notebook to her latest vision. The palace boasted not only towers, but also domes and minarets, and was unlike any palace—or, in fact, any building—Jo had ever seen.
“It is stunning,” Jo breathed. “You should show it to someone.”
“I’m showing it to you right now.”
“I mean someone who could actually do something with it.”
Lilly raised her brows. “I know nobody who’d deign to look at this design. And even if they did, they’d probably laugh. It is such a departure from our staid British ideals of symmetry and balance.” She sighed. “I know I’ve been wasting my time. I should work on redesigning our garden—something that could actually be put to use. My mind refuses, though. Instead, it continues conjuring ideas on such a grand scale as to be laughable.”
“Not laughable,” Jo argued. “Your ideas are wonderful.”
“Even if they are wonderful, it is unrealistic to ever think that they might one day become reality.” Lilly closed her notebook. “It is fine. I enjoy dreaming of what will never be. That, at least, brings me joy.”
Jo sympathized with her friend. Finding a perfect love match brought her joy, yet it still left a part of her feeling as if she was missing something important. She squeezed Lilly’s hand.
“Vauxhall Gardens tonight?” Lilly asked hopefully.
It occurred to Jo that it was a good idea—a distraction from both their passions, and both their feelings of unfulfillment.
“Harriet will be there,” Lilly added.
Jowouldlike to speak with Harriet again. And it was true that Lilly had hardly been out of the house since receiving Charles’s letter. She’d only gone to the soiree, then to visit the Cherringtons. She needed an evening away from this house and all her notebooks.
Jo could afford it right now, too. Just yesterday, she’d received full payment from a client who’d married last month, as well as an advance on the duke’s fees.
The duke.It had been over a week since the afternoon he’d touched her so intimately in her office. Jo repressed a shudder of longing.
In any case, it had been three years since she and Lilly had visited the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens across the Thames, a place where everyone was welcome as long as they could afford the entry fee. Vauxhall was entertaining, too, with many nighttime amusements to stimulate all the senses. They had recently added a rope-dancer to complement the midnight fireworks, and Jo had heard her feats were magnificent to behold.
“Very well,” she began, but before she could continue, Lilly threw her arms around her.
“Thank you, dear Jo. I know it is expensive. I promise I will eat and drink very well before we leave and shall not spend a penny once we are there.”
“I appreciate that, but we will only be able to go once this year. We might as well enjoy ourselves.”
Lilly squeezed her tighter then smacked a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you!”
“Of course.” Jo stared down at her book, but the print danced in front of her eyes.
What would she say to Harriet when she saw her?
Jo had been utterly confused since her last meeting with the duke, her heart a mess of emotion. She still wanted Crestmont to marry Harriet—of course she did. She stillneededhim to marry Harriet, too. Her business depended on it.Lillydepended on it.
The way he made her feel, though… Lord, it was going to be difficult to hand that to another woman. The affection she had developed for him was beyond what she’d ever thought she’d feel for any man.
But it was an absolutely impossible affection. So much as to be silly.
First, she would never agree to be mistress to a married man—and considering his disgusted reaction when she’d mentioned adultery, he would never allow that, either.
Second, Crestmont would never consider marrying anyone as imperfect as her. She could never be a perfect duchess. She’d make a duchess of the sort that other ladies whispered about behind their fans. “An impoverished country girl, can you believe it?” they’d say. “A conniving, ambitious woman. Clearly she schemed to marry above her station,” they’d gossip. “Not a drop of aristocratic blood to be found anywhere within ten feet of her,” they’d sneer.
And if they discovered her profession, which was extremely likely—once thetonwas interested enough in a person and wanted information on that person, they had noses like hounds—that would add a whole new layer of ugly mockery and contempt.
