“Letty and Lila are not easily led astray,” she defended her friends. “It was hardly our fault that finishing school was so deadly dull.”
“And you had nothing better to do than lead my innocent sisters on an expedition to ruination?” he asked sharply.
So sharply that Addy cast a glance in the direction of the dining room door, wondering if Aunt Pearl could hear their squabbles.
“It was hardly an expedition to ruination,” she countered, her smile at last faltering.
One would have to possess the patience of a saint to contend with the Duke of Marchingham and maintain good cheer. The man was an ominous thundercloud on an otherwise faultless summer day.
He closed the polite distance that had existed between them, towering over her. His shoulders were even broader than she had recalled from last night in the shadows when he had been in nothing more than his shirt sleeves. How annoyingly handsomehe had looked then, his hair ruffled and his customary icy mask less severe from slumber.
“Tell me, Miss Fox,” he said, his voice low and deceptively pleasant, floating over her like steam from a hot bath. “How many village lads did you kiss that day before Madame Mallette found you?”
None, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. The three of them hadn’t even found any obliging lads. They had managed to obtain some wine at a tavern before Madame had stormed in, furious to find the three of them giggling at a scarred old table.
Their adventures had been promptly at an end.
“Half a dozen or so,” she lied. “Some of them were more proficient than others. If only Madame hadn’t found us so soon. Perhaps I could have kissed even more.”
The red returned to the duke’s cheekbones, and his nostrils flared.
“Your father ought to have taken a reed to your backside when you returned to America,” he said.
“Your Graceship,” she mocked lightly. “I am astonished that you are thinking about my backside.”
The color deepened.
His gaze dipped to her mouth, just for a fleeting moment, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he imagining her kissing those nonexistent Swiss men? Was he repulsed by her, or was he thinking about what it would be like to kiss her himself?
His head bent toward hers. Her heart beat faster, warmth pooling deep within her. She swayed toward him ever so slightly, tempted to feel those forbidding lips on hers.
“Do take the napkin of scraps to the kitchens, Miss Fox,” he snapped, straightening to his full, impressive height again. “Cook will attend to it, and I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to provide you with whatever you require for the hound.”
With a formal bow, he stalked past her, leaving Addy to watch his purposeful strides take him down the hall, where he disappeared into a room and closed the door with more purpose than required. He slammed it, in fact.
Well.
Perhaps Addy had managed to get beneath the Duke of Arse-ingham’s impeccable skin.
It was only then that she realized she hadn’t an inkling of where the kitchens to the sprawling manor house were. She sighed. Time to find Mrs. Burton or one of the chambermaids and inquire after its placement.
Aunt Pearl ventured from the dining room in a swish of skirts, looking far more regal in her navy day gown now that their trunks had been restored to them and they had each been granted the aid of a maid for dressing. She cast a meaningful look in Addy’s direction.
“Do you think it wise to continue to prod the duke, my dear girl?” she asked shrewdly.
Addy wondered just how much her aunt had overheard. Renewed warmth stung her cheeks, but she refused to acknowledge it.
She wasn’t ashamed of her boldness.
“Wise? Of course not.” She paused and sent her aunt a cheeky wink. “But it certainly is amusing.”
Aunt Pearl sighed, shaking her head. “Adelia Louise, I have no notion of what goes through that wild mind of yours.”
“Neither do I sometimes,” Addy admitted quietly, casting another look in the direction of Marchingham’s closed door.
She had never met a gentleman she wanted to simultaneously punch and kiss before. It was certainly a novel discovery. Pity she could do neither in this instance. He was their host and Letty and Lila’s elder brother. Neither kissing him nor blackening his eye would be wise.
“Let’s find someone to help steer us to the kitchens, then,” Aunt Pearl said with a resigned tone, patting her arm. “You’ll be wanting to rid yourself of that napkin of food before it begins to drip all over the carpets or—worse—your lovely gown.”
