Page 47 of My Dearest Duke

Her expression gave her away every time.

She leaned forward, and her decolletage swelled invitingly.

His mouth went dry as Egypt’s hot, arid air.

That bloody, tantalizing gown.

With every movement, the blasted thing begged him to strip it from Vanessa and reveal the lush treasures the fabric hid from his scorching gaze—the treasures he yearned to explore at his leisure.

For the rest of their lives.

When Kingston had arrived this evening, he’d been wholly entranced.

He’d craned his neck so hard to see a full glimpse of her as she stood by the window chatting with Rebecca that he’d nearly plowed into the mahogany, marble-topped table beside the drawing room doorway. As it was, he’d let slip a curse as he lunged to catch a tottering vase—no doubt a very expensive vase—before it crashed to the floor.

When he’d glanced up, everyone in the room stared at him, and by God, there’d been the merest gratified hint of a smile at the corners of Vanessa’s mouth.

The minx.

He’d be bound that she knew exactly what effect the gown would have on him.

What game did the vixen play now?

Casting a reluctant glance at the gold and green marble ormolu mantle clock, with its trio of irritatingly cheerful, naked mythical creatures, he sighed.

Half nine.

He’d already lingered an extra half an hour with his family past his typical departure time to either return to Quail Hollow House or adjourn to Helmstead Gate’s study. A stack of invoices in need of reviewing, supply orders, and correspondences he’d already neglected for several days awaited him there.

And yet, averse to disturbing the tableau of domestic tranquility before him, he delayed his departure. His siblings' hollow cheeks had filled out, and their youthful faces now shone with health instead of worry, hunger, and fatigue. There could be no doubt Vanessa was good for them, as had living at Helmstead Gate.

They, too, were happy.

It was Paxton who broke the peaceful ambiance. Yawning, he closed his book and climbed to his feet. “We have an early morning riding lesson on the morrow, so I’ll bid you goodnight.”

Attired in a neat walnut brown suit, he actually bent into a perfectly proper bow.

Yes, Vanessa had worked wonders in a very short time. But then, Kingston had known she would. She had that innate ability. To bring out the best in people.

Even him.

Elligon seemed the sole exception, but that blackguard was a greedy, self-centered bugger. At least the sod had made no further attempts to harass Vanessa. However, that didn’t mean Kingston let his guard down.

He’d privately spoken to each male staff member and explained they needed to be diligent and notify him if anything unusual occurred. Vanessa’s servants were devoted to her, and each had assured him they would guard her with their lives.

Grinning at Paxton, Kingston lifted a finger from his glass and pointed it at his youngest brother. “Very wise of you, and that bow was worthy of a courtier. Well done, you.”

Paxton beamed under his praise.

Kingston appreciated that his brothers and sisters hadn’t balked at their seven o’clock riding lessons. But then, none had been slugabeds prior to moving to their more luxurious accommodations, either. They were accustomed to rising early and hard work.

“Yes, we should retire, as well.” Smiling her agreement, Rebecca laid down her cards. “We’ve appointments in Canterbury tomorrow afternoon, too.”

More gowns? Hats? Slippers? Fripperies?

He couldn’t begrudge their fun, yet neither did he want Vanessa to assume those financial obligations. It made him feel guilty as hell that he couldn’t provide for his family—made him feel like a bloody fortune hunter indeed.

And, the truth was that until he inherited the duchy, there was bloody little he could do to alter that except to turn a profit with his lands. Even then, it would be years before he could repay Vanessa.