“We should return.”
“Yes. We should.” The Duke mirrored her in exhaling deeply, then nodded and offered her his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Please, don’t apologize.” Sybil accepted his arm. “I kissed you, too.” Which, if they had been alone, she would have wanted to extend into something far more than a mere kiss.
Oh, if only they had been alone.
By the time they made it back to their box, Sybil was in control of her feelings enough that she didn’t blush at the thought of the Duke’s mouth on hers. Or his hands on her breasts. Or the hard length that had pressed against her stomach, a tribute to how much he wanted her. Or the fact she had almost lifted her skirts and let him have his way with her there and then.
“You found her,” Sir Robert said, holding out a hand to her. If he saw more than she wanted him to when he glanced between them, he didn’t show it on his face, and merely held out a hand to her. “Thank goodness you’re all right, Lady Sybil.”
“Thanks to His Grace,” she said stiffly.
The party murmured a polite something, and the Duke gave her a looked that was altogether too heated for company, and the blush she’d been fighting spread across her face.
“Sit with me,” Lady Windermere said, and Sybil hurried to her side, grateful for a reason to avoid the Duke and Sir Robert and everyone’s prying eyes.
“Thank you, Lady Windermere .”
“Call me Penelope.” Lady Windermere leaned even closer. “And, my dear, you’ll have to be a little more subtle than that if you want to liaise with my cousin.”
ChapterFourteen
Nothing Sybil could say convinced Lady Windermere that shewasn’tattempting to seduce the Duke, and the carriage ride home was extremely uncomfortable. Especially because the Duke insisted on accompanying them back, which was extremely inconsiderate of him when she was trying to pretend there wasn’t something between them.
Sybil had, unfortunately, never been very good at lying. And he made it particularly difficult when he was looking at her the way he did. No man had ever looked at her in that way before, as though she was the sole recipient of his attention. Usually, men’s eyes skipped over her to focus on her mother, and even when her mother wasn’t there, there was usually someone prettier or wearing a nicer dress, or with better birth.
Usually, there wassomeoneelse. But now the Duke was looking at her as though there was no one else. As though even if therewassomeone else, he might not notice her. It was enough to make any lady’s knees weak, and considering what sheknewhe could do to her, and how he could make her body sing, it was a wonder she wasn’t on the floor.
“Will you promenade in Hyde Park tomorrow?” he asked as they approached Thomas’ house.
Sybil took a breath. “I believe so.”
“Then I shall endeavor to meet you there. What time?”
“I’m not certain. Around eleven, perhaps?”
“So early.” He recovered himself quickly and nodded. “I will see you there. Goodnight, Lady Sybil.” He possessed himself of her hand and kissed it quickly before releasing it. Dumbfounded, Sybil stared at him before exiting the carriage.
* * *
George was making a huge mistake.
Well, to be honest, he had made several over the course of the evening. The girls he had invited were coarse—they made Lady Averley look refined—and he had spent too much time with Sybil. He’d vowed to find her a husband then dominated her attention.
He had kissed her.
Then, if you please, rather than encouraging her to spend time with an eligible gentleman or two, he had invited himself to promenade with her. It was a temptation he should not entertain. Something about her made him prepare to throw aside every propriety for a moment with her.
The last time they had kissed, she had pushed him away. What would make things different this time?
Yet, when he stepped out to meet her in Hyde Park—leaving the Manor before eleven, which was a testimony to his dedication—he was conscious of a strange anticipation. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could still see the way she had looked at him in Vauxhall Gardens after he had kissed her, as though she craved him. She might have pushed him away, but he knew desire when he saw it, and just the thought of it made him ache for her.
When he reached the gates, he was lucky enough to spot her immediately. She was with her mother, who was instantly recognizable given she wore a bright-blue pelisse and her golden curls were jumbled around her head.
Beside her, it looked as though Sybil was doing her best to sink into the ground, her shoulders hunched and her pelisse, in contrast, a soft gray. Everything about her seemed designed to turn attention from her.
George was conscious of irritation low in his gut. She deserved to have the attention she sought to deflect. Her mother, for all her showy beauty, should not make such efforts to outshine her daughter. In his opinion, Sybil was far more beautiful than her mother, if less striking.
