Duke of Disrepute (Dukes of Distinction #3) - Alexa Aston Page 0,57

Today, he wore buff breeches and a hunter green coat. His shoulders looked impossibly broad in it and the breeches hugged his muscular legs, leaving little to the imagination. Suddenly, she wondered what he looked like sans clothes and found the idea terribly appealing.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she said politely. “Tea will be here shortly.” She nodded to the butler, who left the room, knowing he would see that the teacart came with all haste.

Alone now, Weston came toward her, making her heart pound something dreadfully. She feared it would draw his eyes to her chest and he would see her gown move with each beat.

He took her hand and raised it to his sensual lips and gave her fingers a lingering kiss.

“Good afternoon, Elise,” he said huskily, causing her belly to tighten.

“Won’t you have a seat?” she managed to get out.

She indicated a settee, one where once upon a time she’d sat with Norwood and had tea. She pushed the thought from her mind. She shouldn’t compare her late husband to Weston because he would fail to measure up in every way. So would any other man. The thought of the duke finding her a husband suddenly held no appeal. Yet she knew it was a necessary move on her part. One that would ensure her and Claire’s future. Living with Lord and Lady Ruthersby had become more unpleasant, especially since they’d been forced to hire care for their children. She knew the countess, in particular, was unhappy having to pay for a nursery governess for Claire because she’d mentioned it several times. Marrying at Season’s end was a way to escape having no control over her life and give her daughter a father figure.

“Are you going to stand throughout tea?” Weston asked, a teasing light in his eyes.

Elise sat. “I’m sorry. I was woolgathering.”

He leaned and placed a few packages on the nearby table.

“What did you bring?”

“Books. I thought if I am to read to Claire, she might enjoy something new. I didn’t want her cousins to be left out.”

“That is very thoughtful of you.”

His eyes gleamed. “Oh, I can be quite thoughtful. It’s one of my good qualities. Of course, the ton isn’t aware of that. They’ve painted me the rake for so long, they don’t truly see me.”

Though his tone was light, Elise detected hurt in it. “How awful for everyone to think the worst of you. I know you aren’t anything like what they say.”

One eyebrow rose. “I’m not?”

She clasped her hands together. “Well, perhaps you were. To some extent. But they will see you differently now this Season. You will still be charming but you will show them that you have many good qualities to offer.” She chuckled. “I hate to say it. Even if you were four decades older, ugly as sin, and hateful to everyone, you would still have eligible women vying to be your duchess.”

“That’s why you have to help me find a woman who doesn’t care about my wealth. Who looks beyond my titles.” His gaze penetrated her. “Who sees me for who I am.”

Elise grew warm under his stare. “We—your sister and I—will certainly do so.”

Weston smiled. “I can’t imagine leaving my future in two more capable hands.”

Chapter Eighteen

A maid rolled in the teacart and Weston watched as Elise busied herself for a few minutes, making sure that he had plenty to eat and pouring out for them both. She remembered that he liked two lumps of sugar and prepared the tea to his satisfaction. They talked mostly about the children for several minutes and what they had been up to ever since Elise and Claire had returned to Briarcliff.

“Would you like a second cup?” she asked when he’d finished and placed his saucer back on the table.

“No, thank you. I think we need to talk more about the Season.”

“Why? You’ve given me a list of your requirements,” she pointed out. “I also told you mine.” Elise lowered her eyes, resting her saucer on the table and fiddling with her hands.

Weston reached over and placed a hand atop hers. Immediately, she looked up, nervously licking her lips.

Driving him wild.

Now that he had her attention, he removed his hand. “Speaking of your requirements. You mentioned wanting a husband who could teach you how to kiss.”

“That’s correct,” she said primly, color rising in her cheeks.

“Being a widow, most men will assume you already know how to do so. In fact, because of your experience, they are more likely to attempt to