How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,37
before she crossed the road, she heard a man say, “I am afraid he will find out who you really are, Your Grace.”
“Nonsense,” a familiar, feminine voice said. “Coincidences do happen in real life. So we share the same solicitor…”
“And the same first name as his mother?”
“Well…” Lady Whitmore sighed. “There is that. But why did you tell him he could only rent the property when I already offered to sell it to him outright? He will think me addle-minded, if not worse. You must sell the Duke of Vexen the cottage and acreage immediately.”
“Yes, Your Grace. And what name shall I affix to the deed of sale?”
She cleared her throat. “Are you purposely being impertinent?”
“Never.” The man bowed. “Forgive my tone and manner, Your Grace. It has been a long day—and delicate plans of this nature are rather trying for a man of my age.”
“I pay you too much to be troubled.”
Sarah felt guilty for overhearing this very private conversation. She hadn’t intended to encounter anyone. The walk to her cottage… Dear God. Even Lady Whitmore, who seemed to really be a duchess, held secrets. Big secrets, at that. And if she had heard correctly, the Duke of Vexen was her… No, she wouldn’t dare think it. She turned her head and ran across the street as quietly as she could.
If they didn’t see her, they’d never know someone had overheard their conversation. Her hostess deserved all of the same discretion she demanded for all of her guests. Anonymity kept the small town of Whitmore productive and thriving. Sarah would never betray it.
As she reached the narrow path that cut through the woods, she stared up at the moon and stars, which were exceptionally bright tonight. “If I wish upon a star…”
“What exactly would you wish for?” The duke materialized from the shadows.
Sarah let out a little cry, holding her hand to her chest. “You must never do that to me again!”
He reached for her, but she stepped beyond his grasp.
“Sarah?”
“Miss Sarah,” she insisted.
His grin grew wider. “Miss Sarah.”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Are we back to playing our game?”
She frowned at him. “I have no idea to what you are referring, sir.”
“Did I tell you how lovely you look in the moonlight?”
She waved her gloved hand dismissively. “Do not try to flatter me, Your Grace. Save it for Lady Loxley, or whatever female you are paying attention to at the moment.”
“Ah,” he said quietly. “Maria’s plan was successful, I see.”
“Plan?”
“Yes. She compelled me into the alcove, threw herself on me, and, I believe, hoped you would see us in a compromising position.”
Oh! What an insufferable, self-righteous… She glanced away, ashamed she had thought the worst of him. Yet, she must never admit it. She shrugged. “And if I did?”
He successfully caught a lock of her hair between his fingers. “You are jealous.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
Could his grin grow any wider? More smug?
“Do you deny it, Sarah?”
She tipped her head up. “So are you.”
“I never denied it.” He caught her in his arms, holding her tightly to him. His heady smell, sandalwood and smoke, made her squirm. His warmth and hardness, strength and masculinity, it overwhelmed her, even frightened her at times like this. She could never deny him anything if he held her for too long.
“Let me go.”
He snorted. “I could demand the same of you!”
“What could you possibly mean by that?”
He released her, only to step back a foot and stare at her intently. “Not in the physical sense, sweeting.”
Was he implying she had a hold on his heart? “Why did you follow me?”
“Because you lack the instinct of self-preservation to be properly escorted home in the dark.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “And you are that sort of man?”
“Do you mock me?” His arm slipped about her waist, and he gave her a gentle shake.
Just as the immature girl in the tree would have done two years ago, she stuck her tongue out at him.
It must have caught Leonard by surprise, for he let her go and a deep-bellied bellow escaped him. “I believe…” he started, “that you are in desperate need of corporal punishment, Lady Sarah.”
He meant to spank her like a child? The thought did not resonate well with her, and she backed up to a tree to protect her posterior. A lapse in judgement, for he prowled over to her, placed his hands on either side of her face, and leaned in, showering her with the lightest of kisses, first her nose, cheeks, earlobes, then her