Diana had once tried to convince her that it was a lady’s responsibility to keep a man waiting, but doing so made no sense to Collette. It was disrespectful of his time, wasteful, rude, and inconsiderate.
Not to mention petty and silly.
So at two before two, Collette was already waiting in the drawing room, gloves and bonnet ready on the sofa beside her. Bethany sat across from her, tugging at her embroidery.
And when the knock sounded, Collette was on her feet before Mr. Ingles could even open the door, sliding her hands into her gloves.
“My Lady.” The duke stepped inside, bowed in Bethany’s direction, and then turned to Collette. “Miss Jones.” How did he manage to do that? Steal the air out of a room the minute he stepped into it?
“Your Grace.” Bethany rose, sliding a chastising glance in Collette’s direction that said something akin to,‘Don’t be so eager.’“We so enjoyed having your company last night. I hope you’ll join us again soon.”
Would Collette be in London the next time they invited him? An anxious feeling gripped her at the thought, and she fumbled when she went to tie the ribbons on her bonnet. It wasn’t that she would regret missing dinner parties. She didn’t belong really, anyhow. It was rather the all-around uncertainty that lurked in her future.
“I look forward to that as it was my pleasure.” He turned his gaze on Collette. “You will want a coat.”
“Right here.” Mr. Ingles appeared behind her, holding her gray coat up so she could slide her arms inside. It was a coat that a teacher would wear.
Bethany grimaced, shaking her head, but refrained from suggesting Collette wear the prettier coat that had been delivered earlier that week.
With her bonnet finally tied, and her coat buttoned, Collette endured the exchange of a few more niceties between Bethany and the duke, and then allowed him to lead her outside and down the front steps.
Uncertain as to why he’d even suggested this outing, she kept quiet for as long as she could, not bothering to attempt any conversation until she was seated beside him, high off the ground, in a vehicle that did not seem at all as though it had been designed to carry ladies.
“We may yet have rain today.” An utterly foolish conversational gambit but also one that gave nothing away as to her nervousness. Perhaps that was why people so often discussed the weather. It prevented them from having to give anything of their emotions, their thoughts, or feelings away.
“It should hold off for our drive. Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Not as bland as her topic but only slightly more original.
She could feel him all along the side of her, much as she had when they’d sat on the stairs together.
“The guests were lovely. I always enjoy meeting Chase and Bethany’s friends.” Why did she sound so breathless?
“Are they not your friends as well?”
Collette stared down at his hands. He wore leather gloves and handled the two horses as though it was something he’d been doing all his life.
“They are not, really.” She didn’t think to answer him with anything other than the truth.
“Because your father was not married to your mother.” Now he was being original.
“Yes.”
“But not because any of them looked down on you. It’s because of how you see yourself.” She glanced sideways at him in surprise. When she’d reminded him that she’d not belonged before, he hadn’t seemed to understand. Why did he now? She turned again to study him. Since he was intent upon the road ahead, she was able to study his profile, his determined jawline, lips that were not thin, nor too full, and a nose that, from the side, appeared far more ducal than it did from the front—rounded—and hooking down just slightly on the end.
“It’s not how I see myself. It is who I am,” she said.
“You are a sister, a teacher.” He met her stare briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “A lady.”
Oh, but was she?
“I am also a daughter,” she rejoined. “Unacknowledged by her father.”
“You would have been a different person, then, if your father had married your mother and acknowledged his daughters?”
“Of course not.” But she immediately reconsidered her answer.
“Although it is my brother who, in fact, shares this sort of experience with you,” he said, “you and I have more in common than one might think.”
The vehicle lurched as he turned them off of the paved road and into the graveled one inside the park.
