that means that sometimes you must be vulnerable.”
“Doesn’t mean I like it,” she muttered.
“I don’t like it, either.” He clicked his tongue. “What if people realize that the Duke of Rotherby is only a godlike being, and not actually a god?”
“They never will believe that,” she said drily.
He sobered. “A wise lady reminded me that being a dictatorial boor isn’t appreciated by others. And that sometimes there’s a benefit to be had in delving beneath the surface.”
“And do you think that?”
He shrugged as he watched a man on a skiff navigate between huge tall-masted ships. “She’s shown me that life is an ongoing education. There’s always something new to learn, some new experience to have. For example, here we are, beside one of the busiest rivers in the world, full of ships going all over the globe, the heartbeat of the nation, and all I can think about is the curve of the back of your neck.”
She brought her hand up to gently touch her nape. The gesture was so tender, so vulnerable, it nearly brought him to his knees.
“Apologies,” he said gruffly. “You asked me to go slow—”
“Slow,” she said, turning to look up at him, her eyes bright, “not stop.”
He curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. “As you wish, Lady Whitfield.”
“My name is Jessica, but my friends and family call me Jess.” She bit her lip, then offered, “You may, as well. If you like.”
“I would,” he answered readily. It was a gift, her name, and he held it tightly. “The names my friends call me aren’t suitable for mixed company, but I’d be honored if you would call me Noel.”
“Noel,” she repeated. The single syllable had never held such music before as it did coming from her lips.
They were silent together, though the noise from traffic along the river made the moment anything but quiet. He held himself very still, as though by remaining motionless, he could preserve this span of time, stretch it out into an infinite realm that contained him and her alone.
She exhaled. “I . . . had an experience with fire. I wasn’t hurt, but . . . it was frightening. I can still feel it, sometimes. Its heat. And I don’t care for sitting too close to the fireplace.”
“Understandable that the Graveses’ demonstration might elicit feelings of fear. You know,” he added, “I myself have a secret fear. I . . .” He cleared his throat. “I don’t like rodents.”
“Rats and mice and such?”
“The same,” he said stiffly. “When I was young, I found a mouse living in my mattress. My nurse took it outside and set it free, but I hated the thought that I was lying unconscious on its home. It might have even crawled on me when I was sleeping.” He suppressed a tremor of revulsion.
She rose to her feet. “In that case, let us head back to the others. And whatever you do, don’t look down.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a terrier-sized rat eating its luncheon about five feet away.”
It was remarkable how vanity could change one’s behavior. He knew with absolute certainty that if she hadn’t been there, he would have gagged and in general made an ass of himself in front of the entire London docks.
Instead, he flexed his hands in an attempt to calm himself. The rodent didn’t worry him half as much as what he intended to do next. “Would you accompany me to Vauxhall tonight?”
“Ah, you asked.” A smile bloomed across her face, but the happiness it gave Noel dimmed when she added, “I am not certain that’s a wise idea.”
“What if we weren’t alone?”
“Depends on the company.”
He inclined his head. “The other Bazaar guests.” His breath held as he awaited her answer. She couldn’t know how difficult it was for him to offer himself up in this way, and he didn’t want her to know. All he desired was for her to exercise her free will in choosing him. That was what mattered. Her choice.
A long moment went by, and she was silent. Then, just as he was on the verge of begging her for an answer, she said, “I should like that.”
He said, “I suspect that, if I tried, at the moment I could literally walk across the surface of the Thames from sheer happiness.”
“Your Grace—”
“Noel,” he reminded her.
“It’s my suspicion that you are mainly pleased by my agreeing to go with you because you’re unused to women refusing you anything.”
“Like a child denied a toy.” He scowled as