“Nevertheless, as I mentioned, I’ve never had a duke visit Mammoth House. Surely you must know that your presence, or anyone’s for that matter, is a rare occasion for the niece of an earl who has been all but banished from Society.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know the complete story on that, Miss Quick. Perhaps we can discuss it later.”
Loretta’s proclamation to her uncle and its consequencesweren’t things she wanted to talk about in any detail, and the duke had to know that. She quirked her head and offered, “If that be the case, then I suppose you will also want to discuss a certainsecret admirer letterthat was reportedly read around the world.”
The Duke of Hawksthorn gave a hearty laugh. His eyes sparkled invitingly. It lifted her spirits and made her feel quite jolly to know that her comment had amused him so much.
“Around the world? Your cleverness is refreshing.”
She smiled. “As you said earlier, I don’t know the complete story on that.”
“While I have little doubt everyone in England heard about my misguided participation in that youthful prank, I have misgivings about the prospects of the entire world knowing. However, in either case, I must wait for further discussion on the matter.” He extended the glass to her. “And I’ll wait to enjoy this until after I’ve put the mare in the stable, rubbed her down, and fed her.”
Loretta reached to take hold of the glass, and two of her fingers landed on top of his. A tingling response rushed up her arm and rippled across her breasts; a tightening gripped her lower abdomen. The duke must have felt the strange awareness at their unexpected contact, too. His eyes blinked and narrowed. She was certain there was a jump in his breathing as he slipped his fingers from beneath hers and let go of the glass.
Unlike her usually well-controlled self, she felt a blush searing up her neck and quickly cleared her throat. It was ridiculous for her to feel so tantalized at the slight touch of his hand. That was something she’d have to consider at a later date. This wasn’t the time to think about what she’d felt when her hand brushed the duke’s.
She hurried to say, “Since you will be our guest for theevening, what time would you like to have your dinner served?”
“I will dine at whatever time you do.”
“Oh, but I don’t stand on ceremony as far as dinner is concerned when Paxton is away. Mrs. Huddleston is an excellent cook and will consider it an honor to prepare something for you and to serve you in the dining room whenever you prefer.”
He stepped in closer to her as he had earlier, and for an instant she had the wild thought that she should step closer to him, too.
“I welcome the opportunity to forgo ceremony,” he said. “It matters not to me what we eat, where we dine, or the time. As a guest in your home, Miss Quick, I will have my evening meal with you.”
At his nearness, a shivery feeling gently stole over her again, and all at once it felt as if her insides melted into a quivering heap at the bottom of her abdomen. “But that would be—” She stopped.
“Scandalous,” he finished for her.
“Yes,” she said, renewing her inner strength and refusing to back down or away from him. “More so than offering you lodging for the night. You know that is something that cannot be helped because of circumstances concerning your horse. No one, including my uncle, would expect a duke to sleep in a cold stable, but no one would expect that I would dine alone with him since my brother isn’t here.”
Without warning, his expression softened and he added, “If it makes my being here a little easier to bear, I would venture to say there isn’t another person within an hour or two of this place, so unless you or your servants decide to tell of this unconventional evening, no one will be the wiser.”
“My staff is very loyal,” she defended.
“So it’s settled. Tonight we shall share the same table and the same roof.” He stepped back.
Sensing no further argument would sway the duke, Loretta knew she must now be the gracious hostess of Mammoth House. “We’ll dine at eight. I’ll see to it that a room is made up for you.”
On the farthest end of the house.
He nodded. “Now I’ll go take care of my horse.” He pointed to her hand. She gripped the glass so hard her knuckles were white. “And then I’ll return for that drink.”
Loretta watched the duke stride from the room. Oh, it was devilishly frustrating that he was so stimulating. It was ridiculous that he was so handsome, his shoulders so wide and his hips so lean and narrow that she wanted to keep looking at him. It was downright maddening that her heartbeat was racing and her stomach had an extraordinary attack of the jitters.
She considered herself a strong, capable young lady. She had stood up to her uncle and refused to marry the viscount. She’d withstood the loneliness of Mammoth House when her brother often fell victim to the isolation and quietness and had to leave. But in a few short minutes, the duke had left her feeling very feminine and incredibly confused about all the emotions he’d stirred within her.
Yet he’d also had no problem living up to his reputation as a scoundrel. Insisting she dine alone with him in her home. What other gentleman would do such a thing? None, she dared to think. And why was the thought of dining alone with him so horrifying and thrilling at the same time?
It simply wasn’t natural for her to be feeling the way she was about him. It was almost too much for her to comprehend. The duke was a rake of the highest order. Everyone in Society knew that. He’d proved years ago that he had little regard for young ladies’ sensibilities, and by insisting on taking his evening meal with her, he’d made it clear he hadn’t changed his wicked ways.
Loretta had read about what happened when the duke and two of his friends had outraged all of London by catching every young lady making her debut that year in an ill-conceived scheme that the rakes had yet to live down.
She’d never heard that there had been any apologies or even any excuses for what the Duke of Hawksthorn, the Duke of Griffin, and the Duke of Rathburne had done: sending secret admirer letters to twelve young ladies asking them to meet the anonymous sender in private. All of the young ladies had fallen for the scam. Not one had been prudent enough to refuse the invitation to meet her admirer in person.
And the truth of it was that Loretta probably would have done it, too, had it been the year of her debut. Once it was made known that the rakes had wagered to see which one of them would see the most ladies respond, thetonwas in a state of panic, the Season all but lost, and the ladies and their parents devastated. The trio had been called the Rakes of St. James ever since, and the gossip columns had not let the story fade from the annals of Society.
