Page 59 of How to Tempt a Duke

It was not happiness or relief which showed on the Countess’s comely face, but concern. “I think that is for the best.” A smile twitched at her lips, but the display of discontent did not leave her features. And then her mother did a curious thing: she put her slender arms around Eleanor and embraced her.

Despite the chill of her mother’s hands at her back, Eleanor leaned into the embrace and put her face to her mother’s sharp shoulder.

“I should have done this more,” her mother said on a choked whisper. “When you were a girl...before it was so very awkward.” She laughed and leaned back. “I’m proud of you, daughter.”

She gently kissed the top of Eleanor’s head and left the room.

Eleanor stared at the closed door and tried to ignore the dull pang in her chest. So this was her success, her grand victory. After working hard to allow herself to truly feel, to expect a brilliant life, she was now going to have to shove it all down deep within her once more so that she might become the Countess of Devonington.

Chapter Nineteen

Charles was in a devil of a mood when he returned home. So when Kentworth extended an invitation for a night on St. James’s Street Charles was all too eager to agree. They started at White’s, of course, with several rounds of brandy and a bit of faro. They played for over an hour before Kentworth decided the table’s luck had run its course and they retired to one of the many tables to drink.

All night Charles waited with an anxious blend of fear and eagerness for Kentworth to mention Eleanor again. Thus far the conversation had not broached anywhere near women, let alone Eleanor.

Rawley glanced at his pocket watch—a habit he often employed prior to announcing his readiness to depart. Once Rawley departed, Kentworth would have no one to tame his crass commentary. If Charles meant to ask after Eleanor and Devonington, now would be the time to do it.

“Have you heard any further information about Devonington asking Westix’s daughter to marry him?” Charles took a sip of brandy to cover up a grimace at his indelicate bluntness.

Rawley’s perceptive scrutiny landed on him with too much interest. Kentworth, however, bellowed a laugh and put his drink onto the table. “You interested?”

Charles gulped down more brandy, his thoughts and tongue loose with drink. “I may be.”

“In the wedding or the woman?” Kentworth waggled his brows.

Charles looked between Kentworth and Rawley. Hell. He’d opened the topic—he might as well see it properly closed. “The woman.”

Kentworth chortled. “Would you even stay in London long enough to see her wedded and bedded?”

Irritation jangled Charles’s nerves and he didn’t bother to offer a reply.

Kentworth narrowed his eyes and his expression turned more serious. “You could do worse than her...” He tilted his head in latent consideration. “Far worse, actually.”

“Are you going to ask her before Devonington has a chance?” asked Rawley.

“Always thinking ahead, this one.” Kentworth reached across the table and ruffled Rawley’s hair.

Rawley waved him off and brushed his hand over the mussed brown strands until they were swept neatly to the right, as he always wore his hair.

“It is merely a consideration.” Charles leaned back in his chair.

“Are you considering when you’ll ask or if you’ll ask?” Kentworth probed.

Charles shrugged. He didn’t know himself what he was talking about. He only knew that the idea of Devonington taking Eleanor into his bed made his world darken.

Kentworth barked a laugh and got to his feet. “I need to attend to the call of nature. You gentlemen continue this discussion and I’ll be back in a bit.”

Rawley tapped a finger on the table as Kentworth strode away. “Do you love her?”

“What?” Charles asked, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the question.

“She won’t increase your social standing, and while her family properties are substantial they’re nothing compared to what you already hold. In offering to wed her before Devonington does you’d create a lifelong enemy. Why would you marry her for any other reason than love?”

That was a damn good question.

It was because Charles enjoyed her company and appreciated the frankness with which she spoke, and how she didn’t make him guess as to her thoughts and desires as other ladies. Because a passion had been lit within her and it made her glow with a sensuality that drew him like the most attentive of moths. Because every time he thought of Devonington taking her as his wife, wearing her like an expensive bauble on his arm, undressing her and bringing her to his bed, it was like a punch in Charles’s gut. But love...

Charles scowled and settled back in his seat. The aged leather under him creaked. “By God, Rawley, I daresay I had forgotten how damn insightful you are.”