bring herself to re-enter the Duchess’s realm. Turning back to him, she went up on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on his jaw.
While his heart stuttered, then raced in his chest, she said, ‘Thank you, Davie. For your rescue, and much more. For the first time in a long time, I have a “tomorrow” I can look forward to.’
As did he, he thought as she ran up the steps. The privilege of escorting her about probably wouldn’t last long. He intended to relish every second.
The following afternoon, after dispatching a note to her mother-in-law, a late riser who had not yet left her rooms, informing her a previous engagement would prevent her driving to the Park, Faith let her maid put the finishing touches to her coiffure. ‘There, madame,’ Yvette said, her eyes shining with pride. ‘Who could find fault with such an angel?’
‘A great many,’ Faith muttered. But knowing the soft-hearted girl was only trying to encourage her, she gave her a smile. ‘The new arrangement is lovely. Have you a name for it?’
‘Trône de la Reine,’ the maid replied. ‘And comme ça accord, madame!’
‘Thank you. I shall be the loveliest lady present.’ Thankfully, not at the Park, Faith added silently as she descended to the hackney the butler had summoned, her spirits buoyed by knowing she’d not have to grit her teeth while the Dowager recited the long litany of offences she’d committed last night. Instead, anticipation rising at the thought, she would have Davie to talk to.
She’d missed the company of the young man to whom she’d grown even closer than she was to her sisters during the time she’d spent as a guest of her cousin, stretching a visit planned for a month into a summer-long idyll. His calm counsel, his stimulating ideas and his zeal to create a better future had inspired and excited her. Truth to tell, she’d fancied herself a bit in love with him by the time she’d been summoned home to prepare for her upcoming Season.
Only too aware that he was no fitting match for a daughter of one of the oldest families in England, she’d nonetheless hoped she might share with him some of her thoughts and observations of London, but he’d remained at Oxford during her Season. Instead, mesmerised by the Duke’s assiduous and flattering attentions, envied by every other unmarried female on the Marriage Mart and their resentful mamas, she’d allowed herself to believe she’d fallen as much in love with her noble suitor as he had with her.
Why had she never noticed how cold and calculating his eyes were, compared to the warmth and compassion in Davie’s?
Far too late to regret that now.
With a sigh, Faith let the footman hand her into the carriage. Glancing back towards the shuttered windows of the town house, she felt a pang of foreboding. She was likely to draw enough fire for not attending her mother-in-law’s daily ride through the Park; were the woman to learn Faith missed that important event to associate with a man so far beneath her station, she’d be harangued for a month.
Still, it was time to wrench herself out of the influence of her mother-in-law and the misery that evoked. The Dowager had no real control over her; without the dictates of a husband to prevent it, she could involve herself more in the wider world.
Just talking with Davie, she knew, would help her do that. With each street that brought their rendezvous closer, her excitement and anticipation grew.
* * *
At last the carriage arrived, Faith so impatient she could hardly wait for the vehicle to stop before climbing down and hurrying into the establishment. She spotted Davie immediately, seated in an alcove on the far side of the room. The appreciation on his face as she approached his table made her glad she’d decided to wear the new grey gown that flattered her figure and showed her complexion to advantage.
‘Duchess, what a pleasant surprise,’ he said, rising and giving her a bow. ‘How lovely you look!’
‘How kind you are, Mr Smith,’ she replied. ‘Though as a mother of three, I’m afraid I’ve lost the bloom of youth you probably remember.’
‘Nonsense, it would take more than a brace of boys to erase that,’ he replied, helping her to a seat. ‘Tea? Or would you prefer ices?’
‘Tea, please.’
After sending the waiter off for refreshments, he looked back to study her.
‘You do look rested. Truly fresh as a young girl, and not at all like the venerable mother of three.’
She laughed. ‘I’d hoped for more children, but with three boys making the succession secure, Ashedon...lost interest.’ Or had he kept mistresses all along, and she’d just been too stupid to notice? ‘Somehow, growing up with a brother and all those sisters, I expected when I had a family of my own, I’d be surrounded by children. But as their mother, I spend much of the day in my world, and they in the nursery, in theirs.’
Davie chuckled. ‘Unlike growing up in a farm family, where the children are underfoot all day, learning from their mamas or doing chores for their papas. Close even at night, stuffed as they are in the loft just above the main room, like sausage in a casing! Maybe you should have been a simple farmer’s wife.’
‘Maybe I should have.’
She looked up into his eyes, those kind eyes she remembered so well—and suddenly, saw a flash of heat there, so intense and sudden it shook her.
It shook her even more to feel an answering heat from deep within. Suddenly she was brought back to last night, where despite her fatigue and misery, she’d been intensely aware of being held against his chest.
His broad, solid chest. The tall, rangy youth she’d known had grown into a tall, well-muscled, physically impressive man. Not fitting the wasp-waisted, whip-thin dandy profile now so popular among society’s gentlemen, he was instead big, sturdy, and solid, built more like a...a medieval knight, or a boxer. Strong, powerful, and imposing.
For a time, while he held her, she’d felt—safe, and at peace. If she were still the naïve and trusting girl she’d once been, she might even have said ‘cherished’.
But that was merely an illusion born of need and wishful thinking.
Still, she hadn’t mistaken the desire she’d just seen in his eyes before he masked it, nor the physical response he evoked in her. That unexpected attraction would...complicate a renewal of their friendship, yet at the same time, she was fiercely glad of it. The realisation that he wanted her was a balm to her battered self-esteem, reviving a sense she’d nearly lost of herself as a desirable woman.
She cleared her throat nervously. Welcome as it was, the unexpected sensual tension humming between them was so unexpected, and she had so little experience dealing with it, she felt suddenly awkward. ‘Thank you for meeting me,’ she said at last. ‘I was so relieved not to have to ride in the Park today and feel all those eyes on me, while the Dowager harangued.’
‘I suppose that’s the price of being a Duchess. You will always be the focus of attention, wherever you go and whatever you do.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Yes, and it’s so distasteful. I don’t know why that fact didn’t occur to me before I wed a duke, but it didn’t. I’ve never enjoyed the attention.’
