How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,50
that would be helpful. But do not be obvious.”
“Of course not. Discretion is my favorite thing, Your Grace.”
Leonard waved him off and headed for the castle. He needed a hot bath and a change of clothes—perhaps a stiff drink or two to chase away the unease he felt inside. Sarah’s beautiful face invaded his thoughts, then. The way she cried his name as he made love to her, her sweet smile and innocence, her need to please him though she had no experience with men. She was naturally curious and unafraid of his masculinity.
That pleased him immensely. So did the idea of a lifetime to explore passion with her and to teach her the secrets of the boudoir. His manhood throbbed with need. Just the thought of her excited him. But Maria… The pleasurable feeling withered quickly. That woman had been a selfish lover, lazy and spoiled by her former lovers. She never gave what she received—only…
He cursed himself for being so careless about Sarah, for kissing her outside the privacy of the cottage.
What had he been thinking?
Did he really want an answer to that ridiculous question?
No. Because he hadn’t been thinking at all, only feeling.
How he loved her. Perhaps even on the day he met her in the tree…the kind of patient love that would grow into something deeper once she became a woman. There was no doubt about her ability to make him laugh or to entertain him. Her angelic voice would fill the rooms of Vexen Hall for the next fifty years.
He arrived at the castle and went immediately to his room and ordered his valet to fill his bathtub. He had to devise a way to keep Maria quiet without risking Sarah’s reputation and her heart.
***
Sarah’s mother looked her over critically. “That dress is unbecoming to a lady of your standing.”
Sarah gazed down at the soft blue fabric. She adored the walking dress. “It’s brand new, Mother, made by the modiste here in Whitmore.”
“I find it to be a clever design,” Lady Whitmore said. “Sturdy material for the country, yet charming and very pretty.”
Sarah’s mother looked at Lady Whitmore. “I suppose when you put it like that, it is a fetching design.”
“Not for London, though,” Lady Whitmore offered.
“Indeed not,” Sarah was forced to agree, disappointed to be on display, and even more hurt by her mother’s criticism. “You will never guess who has been here the last week, Mother.”
Lady Drimmen took a sip of her tea and then set the cup down. “Someone we should be concerned about?”
“Of course not,” Lady Whitmore answered for Sarah. “I’d consider him more than an old friend.” She patted Sarah’s hand.
Her mother did not try to guess. “You know I dislike surprises, Sarah.”
“The Duke of Vexen,” she said, trying to contain her enthusiasm.
Her mother’s face tightened at the mention of his name. “That man…”
“Mother.”
“Why is he always around to see the worst in you? God knows what he thinks of your eccentricities now he has found you in this place! How can you be pleased that His Grace is here to see you living in a cottage, without your family, wasting your time on obscure lectures and public singing, from all I can gather. If he was disgusted before, what must he think now?”
Disappointment filled Sarah’s heart. She had thought her mother would be happy with her progress, the obvious change in her character. But nothing seemed to please the woman, nothing. The only good thing was that her father had taken a walk to stretch his legs after the long carriage ride. At least she’d be spared being humiliated in front of him.
“If I recall correctly,” Lady Whitmore said, “the Duke of Vexen did not refuse Sarah, he just saw the wisdom in giving her time to mature into the woman she is now.”
Lady Drimmen smiled weakly at their hostess. “Is that what Sarah told you?”
“Of course not,” Lady Whitmore said. “The duke confided in me once he knew Lady Sarah was here.”
Her mother glared at her. “It should have never been discussed. Though I respect His Grace as a member of the peerage, my personal feelings toward him are less than favorable. I’m sure you understand, Lady Whitmore.”
Sarah’s stomach felt queasy all of a sudden as she glanced at Lady Whitmore. How she could remain so calm while her mother insulted her son, she didn’t know, but admired her for it. “Mother, the duke was perfectly right to put off our betrothal. I was not ready for marriage,