Chapter One #4
“There is quite a bit to judge, Your Grace.” Good lord, what was wrong with her, arguing with a duke?
If he took offense and told Galway, she’d be dismissed.
Roxboro chafed her, body and soul. Also, the annoying hum hadn’t stopped no matter how she begged it to cease, but instead defiantly slid lower. Which was also Roxboro’s fault.
“I might have the best intentions, Miss Cosgrove. I don’t, by the way. But I might have, if given a chance.”
Helen made a piffing sound. “Doubtful.”
“You are such an angry wee thing.” That strange roll to his speech, that rough edge, returned once more, dancing through ever word. “Perhaps that is why you lack companionship.”
Her eyes widened at the incredibly impolite change of topic. “I do not seek it. Not that it is any of your affair.”
“Might do you a bit of good. To have a liberty taken here and there. Might make you less sour. I ’spect you’re the sort that collects butterflies, stickin’ pins in them to admire later.”
Her mouth popped open at his words.
Also….at the lack of several words. He sounded—
“Or embroidery.” He rolled his eyes as if that were the worst possible way a woman might spend her time.
Her anger flared sharply. “There isn’t anything wrong with embroidery. It is a perfectly acceptable pastime.”
Roxboro rolled his shoulders. “I suppose you must do somethin’ while watching others live their lives.”
“You are incredibly unpleasant.” Why was she bothering to argue any point with him? And his speech…“Are you foxed?”
“Perhaps,” Roxboro drew nearer, the air around her full of something herbal. Mint, maybe. Eucalyptus. A hint of smoke. But no…brandy or spirits of any kind. “I’d be testy too if all I did was draw a needle and thread through a bit of linen. Endless days of it. Perhaps you’re going mad.”
Helen needed to get away from him. The hum. The way he smelled. Not to mention he became that much more beautiful at such a short distance. “I am not testy nor am I insane.”
“The life of a lady’s maid is probably rife with loneliness. Bound to make anyone a little crazy.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
“I am not a maid, Your Grace. I am a chaperone and companion.”
“Is there a great difference?” He held up his palms.
Damn him.
Roxboro was making her a trifle unsteady, almost lightheaded, which given she didn’t like him in the least and found him to be deplorable, was highly disturbing.
His head tilted, mouth mere inches from her own, shimmering eyes dropping to her lips, which did nothing but force Helen’s heart, nay her entire body, into an unsteady rhythm. Roxboro was so close, Helen could make out the bits of silver in his eyes. And that freckle. Right on the end of his nose.
I want to put my mouth on it.
A small gasp left her at the thought. What was wrong with her?
“Hmm.” A delicious, entirely masculine sound came from him.
Helen did the only thing she could think of to break the spell of Roxboro. Perhaps not the wisest course of action to take with a duke but there was no other choice. Mustering her courage, and the full force of her smaller form, she kicked him squarely in the shin.
“Bloody hell.” He hopped away from her. “What’d you do that for?”
“If you come any closer, I’ll—” she stepped back towards the safety of the fern. “Throw this at your head.”
“You can’t lift that fern.” Roxboro’s eyes widened. “You are mad.”
“Unlike others,” she lifted her chin proudly. “I will not fall prey to your wiles. Now,” Helen stepped around the fern. “I bid you good evening.”
Roxboro reached out suddenly, his fingers tugged lightly at her skirts as she pulled away.
“As terrible as you think me, little gnat, do you imagine a kick to the shin will put me off you?” His eyes gleamed at her wickedly. “Because it does not.”
Helen had spent the greater part of her life secure in her cloak of invisibility. Sure of her outrage over Owen. Safe in the knowledge she was intelligent enough not to offend or draw notice. But somehow, she’d managed to attract the attention of the Duke of Roxboro.
Which was not wise at all.
She stood as tall and straight as possible, which wasn’t saying much at all given her height.
“Good fortune on your upcoming nuptials, Your Grace,” she said as politely as possible, though every bit of her still ached with him being so close. Helen turned her back, only pausing to hear a quiet burst of laughter.
“Until next time, ferocious little gnat,” he purred. “Enjoy your evening.”
She waited, listening to his footsteps fade before glancing behind her. His shoulders were just visible through the guests filling the hall as he sauntered off in the opposite direction of the ballroom, eventually disappearing from sight.
Helen smoothed her skirts then pressed her fingers to her cheeks, hoping to cool them.
Took deep breaths forcing her heart to a more normal rhythm.
This had been quite an evening given the appearance of the Duke of Roxboro, but she’d saved Cerise and probably her future by interrupting his nefarious activity.
“He wasn’t attempting to kiss me,” she whispered under her breath. “What an absurd idea. Even if he had, it was merely a way to gain a bit of leverage over me in case I run to Lord Galway. And because I spoiled his fun.”
The mantle of lady’s companion and chaperone fell firmly back into place. Her pulse slowed. She waited a few more minutes, until she could no longer feel the flush that had crept over her skin in Roxboro’s presence and sedately strode back to the ballroom, pretending great interest in her reticule.
But the hum, that particular awareness of him, took much longer to subside.