Page 70 of Once Upon a Devilish Duke

“The score is quite divine in places and yet discordant in others. I confess I am looking forward to how it will end,” the duke mused.

“Gruesomely if the first half is anything to go by. I do not think your mother is enjoying it.”

“I hope she or you will not have nightmares from this.”

“I am sure I will be fine,” Rose said and took his hand in hers. “I do not think I have seen your fingers without ink on them.”

He looked down at their hands clasped together. “It is a hazard, I confess.”

“When I said I missed you at breakfast, I really meant I missed your morning kisses. I have become quite fond of them.”

He looked pleased. “Have you?”

“Yes, but it is sad that we cannot continue to do so.”

“We cannot?” Now he was not looking so pleased.

“You know as well as I that this dalliance can come to nothing.” She was still studying his strong hand in hers. “One of us will end up hurt in the end, if not both of us.”

He brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles. “Not if we are firm on an agreement.”

“An agreement? I will not be your mistress, Edward.” She removed her hand from his. “I am a lady. The daughter of an earl, or have you forgotten that?”

“I would never ask you to be my mistress.” His eyes had darkened to a fathomless blue. “To be a mistress is to have a financial agreement.”

“Then what agreement do you propose? Either way, I will be the one to suffer if we are found out.”

“I…that is, we…” Before he could finish, the others arrived back with orange slices and more champagne.

Rose spent the entire second half wondering what he was about to say. As much as she loved being with him, kissing him, and having him kiss her, they were not married or engaged. They had no right to kiss each other anywhere. She was sad about it because she really had come to care for him, even though he was impossible at the best of times. She would miss the thrill of anticipation when she came down the stairs in the morning, hoping he would be alone in the breakfast room so he would kiss her. She would miss the feel of his lips on hers, his tongue exploring her mouth, his mouth on her breasts.

She shook herself mentally. Had she really turned into this wanton woman? She was the one who wanted it to end. No, that was not quite true. She had to end it.

*

The Duke of Warrington threw his cravat at his valet and then wrenched off his waistcoat.

“You did not like the opera then, Your Grace?” Jameson asked as he picked up the clothes his employer had discarded on the floor.

“What?”

“The opera did not make you happy? Usually, you come home humming.”

“The opera was shocking in every sense of the word, but the company was unbearable.”

“Oh, I had hoped things might have improved since the other night.”

“What do you know of the other night?”

“Just what I heard from below stairs,” he said as he folded the clothes carefully.

Edward sat in his chair and kicked off his shoes. “And what did you hear?”

Jameson paused before saying, “That there were angry words exchanged in the parlor between you, your mother, and your sister. That your sister stomped up the stairs in a manner no one had seen before and that your mother cried.”

His mother cried? Now he felt even worse. “And what did they say of me?”

“That you stormed out of the room like your pants were afire.”