Page 68 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
And it was right then that the Duke of Crestmont appeared, materializing in front of them like an apparition, tall and handsome in his dark evening clothes. Now, rather than finding it irritating, Jo found that his stern expression set her blood on fire.
“Good evening, Miss Cherrington,” he said with a bow before turning to the rest of the assembly. He greeted Jo and the rest of the sisters in turn, and then Mary introduced him first to Charles, then Lilly.
“Your Grace,” Charles exclaimed, looking rather flustered. Jo couldn’t really blame him. He was several years younger than the duke and grasped a lower rung of the social ladder, after all. “Please, sit with us. We’ve plenty of room. Over there!” He gestured toward Harriet. “Make some room, will you, Harriet?”
“Of course.” Harriet scooted closer to Jo to make space on the bench seat.
“Thank you.” Matthew slid onto the bench beside Harriet while keeping his gaze on Charles. Both Harriet and Matthew sat stiffly, taking pains to ensure no part of their bodies touched the other’s, even though Harriet pressed the other side of her body into Jo’s.
The rigid display must be for propriety’s sake, Jo decided. Both Harriet and the duke were determined to be models of respectability.
Of course, that thought led to a memory of the duke’simpropriety in her office, his decadent and sinful kisses, and how she’d come apart in his arms, crying out and descending into pleasure so absolute, propriety had not even been a word she could comprehend.
“I can’t stay long,” Matthew said. “I came with friends, and they will miss me.”
“I daresay none of us will stay long,” Martha said. “I believe the rope-dancing is to begin soon, and I want to have a good view of it.”
“So do I,” Esther agreed. “Better than we had of the cascade. I could hardly see a thing!”
Lilly clasped her hands at her chest. “I have never seen a rope-walker. It is unbelievable that a human body is capable of performing such feats.”
“Let’s go soon, then, so we will have an ideal view,” Charles agreed.
They sat a few minutes longer, chatting about the fine weather and finishing the last of the punch. Jo only drank a single small cup of it, but it had sent a pleasant tingle through her veins.
When they finally all stood, preparing to walk to the other end of the park to find an ideal viewing spot for the rope-dancing and fireworks, Matthew turned to Harriet and bowed. “Miss Cherrington. I hope to see you later.”
She gave him one of her soft smiles, and they gazed at each other for a moment.
A perfect picture. A handsome duke and his lovely future duchess sharing a look of respect and admiration with the twinkling backdrop of the lanterns of Vauxhall Gardens. It would make a beautiful portrait to hang on his castle wall one day.
Jealousy roared through Jo with a ferocity that poured bitterness through her marrow.
She despised this. It was torture.
After Harriet moved away from the duke, his gaze turned to Jo and caught her watching. The gentleness infusing his eyes was like a long, sweet drink of chocolate. A balm. He understood how this made her feel, that much was clear. When he walked past her, his gloved fingers skimmed the back of her hand.
Her breath caught, and she glanced back at her party. Already skipping along beneath the arches toward the opposite end of the gardens, they hadn’t seen her and the duke’s brief interaction.
Jo hurried after them but not before casting one longing glance back at the man who was breaking her heart.
Chapter Twenty
A thick mass of humanity drew Matthew, Jameson, Cole, and Winthrop along the path that led to the fireworks and rope-dancing demonstration.
They walked under the iron arches, the path lit with hundreds of lanterns, some of them bunched up to look like bouquets of flowers, with long green globe lights to represent the stems, then bunches of clustered round lights in pinks and oranges and purples to make up the bouquets.
Loath to press into the densest crush of people that crowded the rope slung hundreds of feet from a thatch of greenery to the tip of a mast placed atop the fireworks platform, Matthew and his friends hung back. They were all annoyed with him for not introducing them to Miss Cherrington, but Matthew had been annoyed with himself, for it was not Harriet Cherrington he’d wanted to introduce to them. It was Jo. He thought they’d like her.
Jameson scowled at him. “What are you smiling about?”
He scowled back. “Nothing.”
“Liar,” Jameson grumbled.
Matthew shrugged.
Suddenly—Matthew had no idea how it happened—the lights around them went dim, provoking the crowd into immediate silence. Then, a bright burst of blue fire illuminated the rope before dimming to reveal the rope-dancer, her tiny feet balanced upon the rope, her weight causing it to bow slightly.
