Page 5 of Denying the Duke (Lords and Ladies in Love 3)

“Here is my great-grandfather, John Russell, the Fourth Duke of Bedford,” Lord Alex said, interrupting her thoughts.

Patience looked at the painting. Very dignified, sitting with his arm resting on a large chair, white hair, and a receding hairline. “He is pleasant looking.” She turned and looked at Lord Alex. “You resemble him, you know.”

“Indeed?” He moved his head one way, then the other, studying the portrait. “I do think you might be correct, although, I do not imagine my hairline is quite that far removed from my forehead.”

Patience laughed. “Except for his hair.”

“Ah yes, now I see. I just need a new suit of clothes as well. I am afraid the honorable gentleman’s clothing is a tad out of date.” He grinned at her and she had the happiest feeling inside. What was this thing that was happening to her? Did he feel it also?

His smile faltered as they stared at each other. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful mouth?”

The mouth he spoke of suddenly dried up. Patience shook her head.

“You do.” He took her hand and tugged her close. “Have you ever been kissed, Lady Patience?”

Again, she shook her head. Slowly.

“What would you do if I kissed you?”

Goodness. Was she about to have her first kiss? Her heart pounded so hard she thought Lord Alex would certainly hear it. She barely heard her own voice over the sound. “I would do nothing, my lord.”

“Nothing?” He studied her, curiosity in his eyes.

“No.” She shook her head. “I mean yes.” She licked her lips. “Well, the question is a little confusing. I’m not really sure—”

Her words were silenced by Lord Alex’s actions. Patience closed her eyes as his warm, moist lips, which tasted like the tea he’d sipped a few minutes ago, covered hers. His hand moved to her waist and he drew her closer. She felt her breasts press up against his hard chest. Her breathing increased, and for a moment, she thought she would melt at his feet.

He pulled back and tucked one of her curls behind her ear. “Now you may never again say you have not been kissed.”

“No, my lord.”

He placed his finger against her lips. Lips that still tingled from his kiss. “No more ‘my lord.’ You must call me Alex.”

“That is not proper, my lord.”

“Neither is kissing me before all my ancestors.” He flashed the grin she was beginning to associate with him. He turned her as they continued to stroll. “At least when we are alone.”

“Then you must call me Patience.”

“Are you?

“What?”

“Patient?” He studied her. “I hope so.”

Chapter Two

Alex pulled out the worn chess set he’d played on since he’d been a boy, and set up the pieces while he waited for Patience in the family drawing room. Thrilled to discover his guest was an avid chess player, they’d faced each other over the board at every opportunity over the last couple of days. The night before she had trounced him, certainly giving his pride a beating.

Today was his opportunity to redeem himself, and he intended to do just that, instead of studying her face the entire time they played, as he’d done last night. He looked up and grinned as Patience entered the room. Her eyes drifted to the chess board. “Ah, I see you are ready for me.”

“I am always ready for you, my lady.” He made an elegant bow from the waist and pulled out her chair. Indeed, he was always ready for her. Ever since her arrival, nothing else held his interest. When she was out of sight, he wondered what she was doing and how soon he would see her.

Yesterday afternoon, they’d sat under his favorite tree, eating apples and reading to each other from a book of sonnets—which he made fun of while she laughed hysterically at his antics.

As she settled herself, Alex took the seat across from her. “Where did you learn to play chess so well? I thought young ladies spent their time embroidering and talking about hair ribbons.” Despite losing to her the night before, this young woman—who, unlike her peers, could do so much more than worry about the next ball—fascinated him.

“Our butler taught me.” She’d laughed at his startled expression. “Wickham was a voracious player. And no matter that I was a mere ten years when he taught me, he still never let me win.”