How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,38
lips.
Her breath hitched, and she could not look away from his perfect features. Those wide eyes, full lips, his strong jaw. Kiss me, she begged silently, a real kiss.
“Sweeting,” he whispered, “you are a temptress.”
His mouth claimed hers for the briefest moment, his tongue sweeping over hers, demanding and sweet, but then he pulled away. She was left wanting more—leaning into him, one hand resting against his chest, the other gripping the material of his great coat.
Why couldn’t he just sweep away all of her fears now, assure her he wanted her as wife, as his lover, as his everything?
“W-why did you stop?” she asked.
“The next time we kiss, Sarah, it will be because you cannot keep your delectable lips from mine.”
Chapter Eleven
Leonard’s words echoed in her mind as she fell asleep that night, and they were still there the following morning. Since she was fairly sure he loved her, she could end this now with a kiss… Only it went against the grain to let him win.
Waiting for her at breakfast was a letter from her mother that made her squeak. “Hammy, my parents are coming to Whitmore!”
“How lovely,” Hammy said distractedly.
Sarah raised her eyes to her old governess’s tranquil face. “Hammy? Am I to understand you spoke to your—er—old family friend last night? The elegant gentleman with the red hair?”
“Indeed. He is most interested in classical poetry,” Hammy said blushing. “We had an animated discussion, and he has offered to let me read his own poetry.”
“I hope it’s good,” Sarah remarked, “for you are quite a connoisseur.”
“Well, it always used to be rather good, and I imagine he has only improved. Why—” She broke off, flustered when she saw Sarah smiling. She coughed. “Well, I shall let you know.” She frowned suddenly. “Who did you say was coming to Whitmore?”
“My parents!”
Hammy beamed. “Well that is good news, is it not?”
“I don’t know,” Sarah said, thinking wildly of her reprehensible “game” with the duke, which, one way or another, her parents would put a stop to.
“I suspect they have heard of your wonderful singing,” Hammy said. “And have come to hear. Lady Whitmore said something about a soiree at the castle. Something to do with the duke’s excavations. Is not Lord Drimmen interested in antiquities?”
“Yes, but he does not get his hands dirty with digging them up.”
“Well, he won’t have to at a soiree,” Hammy said reasonably. “They will just admire and discuss the history, and I’m sure you will be asked to sing at some point.”
“Another exhibit,” Sarah said with a curl of her lip.
“Is that not what you wanted? To be the exhibit your parents wanted to display? Only better than they could ever have imagined?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I wanted them to miss the old Sarah.”
“She is still there, my dear. She has just lost her rough edges.”
“And if I am still not good enough for them?”
I think,” Hammy said slowly, “that Lady Whitmore would rephrase the question as, are you good enough for you? Do you live up to your own expectations?”
“I don’t know anymore. The whole basis of my expectations is crumbling…”
After breakfast, as they prepared to walk up to the castle with news of the Merringtons’ visit, a morning caller was announced. Dangling her hat by its ribbon, Sarah tripped downstairs with a fast-beating heart, hoping it was the duke.
But when she entered the parlor, Hammy was greeting the tall, red-haired gentleman from last night. Which was almost as good.
“Sarah, this is Mr. Granville,” Hammy said, her face flushed. “An old friend of my family’s. Sir, my young friend, Miss Sarah, of whom I spoke yesterday evening.”
Mr. Granville smiled and bowed over Sarah’s extended hand.
“Shall I send for tea?” Sarah asked Hammy.
“Oh, but you are dressed to go out,” Mr. Granville said.
“We can go any time,” Sarah said.
Sarah stayed only long enough to discover that she liked the quiet, scholarly Mr. Granville, and that he appeared to be as humbly delighted with Hammy as the governess was with him. Making an excuse and promising to be back momentarily, she tied on her bonnet and departed, smiling. She had no intention of going back until Hammy had read all of his poems.
Although she set off for the castle and tried her best not to stray along the path to Leonard’s excavation, she could not resist. Of course, he saw her and ran up to meet her, smiling almost as smugly as he had last night.
Well, two could play that game.
“Ah, have you come to