Page 19 of Raising the Duke’s Unexpected Twins

“It is not an agreement,” she cried from where she led down the path.

She gasped when he caught up with her with ease, sidling in next to her once more.

His voice low, he said, “You seemed to be very keen to agree with me on anything in that moment, my dear.”

Cordelia closed her eyes and spent a few fevered seconds attempting to wish herself away from that moment, from that place, from the time that she gave into a foolish kiss from the very last gentleman she should have. But when she opened them again, he was still there, and she could practically feel him smiling.

“I will not even grace that foolish statement with an answer.”

“Very good then. Very wise and sensible,” he teased. He paused at the edge of the garden, moving in front of her before she could continue on ahead of him. “Remember what I said, love. I am no honorable man.”

“No, you are not. And stop calling me love! I am not your love!”

She tried to push against him again, and before she could, he grasped her hand, and to her horror, he rubbed his thumb across the back of it and pressed a kiss to the soft skin, his eyes not leaving hers.

Her mind willed her to refuse him, to make her hand move out of his grasp, but it would not. In that moment, with her blood high, and her body full of unfulfilled pleasure, her mind was no longer the one in control. All she could will herself to think was how stark blue his eyes were.

“Of course you aren’t,” he said. “A business arrangement is all it is. Just my favorite sort of thing.” He dropped her hand. “I’ll see you at the wedding –” he paused. “Cord.”

And then before she could gather herself to consider throwing something at him, he was gone. After a few moments as she took a steadying breath or two, she hurried after him, for she could not let him have the last word, but then she stubbed her toe on an errant stone and swore in a whisper as a jolt of pain rushed through her. By the time she looked up toward the street, his carriage had already left. Cordelia leaned back against the wall of the house and looked up to heaven for strength. She took a deep breath.

That kiss can most assuredly never happen again.

She promised herself as best she could, but she could not shake the feeling of rightness it had been inside his arms, his lips against hers. It made no sense, though. He who was so unkind and cruel and had kissed hundreds of women before.

“Perhaps that is part of his allure. He knew how to kiss well, and he made every woman feel as though she is the only woman in the world.” Her brow furrowed as she thought about that. “How could a person do that?”

“Do what?”

Cordelia jumped when she heard Emma’s voice breaking into her frustrated reverie.

“Good grief, you nearly frightened me to death!”

“I’m sorry, Cord,” Emma said regretfully. “The duke is gone. He took his leave and refused tea.”

“Good.” Cordelia straightened and took Emma’s arm, heading back to the house. “He may be my future husband, but I do not have to sit down to tea with him until after we are wed. And perhaps not even then.”

Emma chuckled. “You certainly react strongly to him. I’d never seen it in action so closely before, but he does have a way.”

“He certainly does, and he is rather smug about it!” Cordelia said, feeling the color rising in her cheeks, hoping and praying none of her family had seen the kiss.

“Well, he did tell us on his way out that he’s gotten a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury. You are to marry in a week’s time.”

“A week,” Cordelia breathed, standing at the back gate of her home with her sister. “A week until I am the Duchess of Meinster.”

“Yes. Rather grand, isn’t it?” Emma said kindly, leading her in through the door into the quiet of the house. “You will be perfect, Cord. A perfect duchess and a perfect mother.”

“You believe in me too well, Em.”

“What are sisters for?” Emma kissed her on the cheek. A call from their mother had them hurrying away towards the sitting room.

* * *

The next morning Cordelia rose early just as dawn began to break, and she took a pencil and a notebook into the garden and sat. It was one of her favorite pastimes. No one was yet awake, and now that the family was down to only two servants, the house was not as noisy as it once had been. She sat on one of the stone benches in the garden and listened to the sounds of birdsong and the sounds of London waking up.

Normally, she enjoyed writing but that morning, it felt too tiresome of a task. There was too much to feel, too much to write down. She thought of the children, how they would never understand at that age that their parents were not coming home, and how they must have been frightened of their grandfather as they awaited her to retrieve them. She also thought of the watch that her mother had sold. She’d not yet said anything to her mother, but she had to get it back; she had to set things right.

Not only that, but last night had been a torment full of heated dreams of stubbled chins and soft lips, the press of hands against her waist, and the scent of woodsmoke in her nose. Cordelia closed her eyes. Never before had the duke kept her awake. He was now annoying her without even being present.