Page 48 of How Not to Marry a Duke

She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned the topic of conversation. “We are fortunate today. Lady Hobson is a notorious gossip and she is here with Lady Whittaker, her close friend.” She glanced at the women. Lady Whittaker was wearing a dark blue gown with a matching blue parasol; Lady Hobson, a green gown with a high collar and no parasol. She wondered how Lady Hobson wasn’t perspiring in the warm spring day.

Warwick arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Oh yes. They are standing by the park bench and watching us intently. News of our stroll will surely make its way around the proper circles before the Kirkland ball.”

“Then we must make every second count.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he faced her, then lifted her hand, tugged her glove aside just enough to reveal a few inches of skin and placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. She gasped. The feel of his lips on her naked skin sent her stomach in a wild swirl. Just as quickly, he raised his head, his green eyes capturing hers for one second, then two…then three…before his lips curled in a tantalizing smile.

“Save me a dance at the ball, Lady Adeline.”

…

“My! My!” Lady Heywood waved a paper in hand after bursting into Warwick’s study. “When was the last time you enjoyed a stroll in the park, Daniel?”

Nelson stood in the doorway. “The Viscountess, Lady Heywood, Your Grace.”

Warwick scowled at the butler. The man was to announce a guest before anyone walked into his house. Apparently, his godmother was the exception. Nelson pulled the door closed on his way out.

Warwick pushed back his chair and rose from his desk. He’d been working on his engineering drawings for one of the inventions he’d mentioned to Adeline—a mechanism to cut the acres and acres of lawn at his estates. The one invention he’d claimed as progress and she’d pointed out would deny workers their wages.

“What’s this about my walk in the park?” Warwick asked.

“The Scandal Sheet arrived this morning,” Lady Heywood said.

“Why would I care?”

“Because, Your Grace, you are the main topic.” His godmother held up the paper and read out loud:

The elusive Duke of Warwick has returned to town from Chilham just in time for the Season. Eligible ladies, be warned. His Grace, the man who has shown more interest in intellectual pursuits than the pursuit of a wife, has suddenly shown a keen fondness for Lady Adeline Cameron, daughter of the late Earl of Foster. The lady has also recently returned to town from Chilham. Coincidence or country interlude?

Warwick scowled. “Must you read that nonsense?”

“It isn’t nonsense,” Lady Heywood retorted. “All the Society ladies read it.”

“Precisely my point,” he said. “Pure gibberish and a waste of ink.”

But Warwick was pleased. Adeline was right. The park had been the perfect place to set the tone of their relationship and start important tongues wagging. Warwick didn’t care what the scandal sheets said, but he was smart enough to understand the benefit of gossipmongers. He hoped Edwin had the salacious paper delivered to his home.

Warwick would pay good coin to see the reaction on Edwin’s face when he read the gossip sheet. The insufferable bully would have to find another way to pay back his loan, other than to sell his sister to a moneylender.

His godmother roamed his study, her skirts swishing as she turned. “Hmm. You kissed Lady Adeline in the park.”

It was hard not to relive what had happened between them. The way the sun had glinted off the richness of Adeline’s hair. The tinkle of her laugher as they’d strolled beneath the canopy of trees. The glint of mischief in her blue eyes as they noticed others watching them. Then the darkening of her irises as he’d slipped the glove away from her hand to kiss her skin. He’d wanted to do much more than that—he’d longed to kiss her lips. Would they be as soft as they looked? “I most assuredly did not kiss her. I placed a kiss on her wrist.”

“After you removed her glove.” She wagged a finger at him. “Tsk! How scandalous.”

“She is hardly ruined.”

The viscountess froze. “Was that your intention?”

Warwick stiffened beneath her stare. “Of course not. I haven’t even kissed her.”

She tapped a toe. “Oh? Why not?”

“Now you are being improper.”

“Oh posh! I’m not an old lady. I loved the viscount dearly and we had a robust—”