‘Ready to persuade him to join your coalition?’ she teased, immeasurably cheered by his sympathetic support.
‘It’s never too early to start.’ Smiling, he raised her hand, as if to kiss it. And only then seemed to realise he’d been holding it.
He sucked in a breath as he looked down at their joined hands, then up to meet her gaze, and his grip tightened. In an instant, a touch meant to offer comfort transformed into something more primal, as heat and light blazed between them, palpable as the flash of lightning, the rumble of thunder before a storm.
In his eyes blazed the same passion she’d glimpsed earlier. The same passion she felt, building in a slow conflagration from her core outward. Struck as motionless as he, she could only cling to his fingers, relishing every atom of that tiny bit of contact between them.
Slowly, as if he found it as difficult to break the connection as she had earlier, his grip eased and he let her go. His ardent expression turned troubled, and for a moment, she was terribly afraid he would apologise.
Which would be beyond enduring, since she wasn’t sorry at all.
He opened his lips and hesitated, as if searching for words. Watching his mouth, her mind obsessed by imagining the feel of it against hers, she was incapable of finding any herself.
At last, he cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps you could take your sons to call on your sister, Lady Englemere? She’s in town with the Marquess for Parliament, I expect. Let the boys become better acquainted with their cousins?’
He looked back down at their now separate hands as he spoke, as if he regretted as much as she did the need to break that link between them.
Forcing her attention back to his words, she replied, ‘At the moment, they aren’t acquainted at all. I don’t even know if Sarah is in London; she may still be in the country.’ Faith grimaced. ‘Lucky her. The thing I’ve hated most about life as a duchess is being trapped in London, far from the “unfashionable” countryside Ashedon despised and I love so much.’
Davie nodded. ‘I seem to remember a penchant for riding in breeches and climbing trees.’
That observation brought her a smile. ‘Yes. We used to climb that big elm in Cousin Joanna’s garden, and I’d read you poetry. There were a few early-morning races on horseback, too, I recall, before Joanna found out and made me ride at a more decorous pace, on side-saddle.’ Nostalgia for that carefree past welled up. ‘How I miss those days,’ she said softly.
‘Avoid looking back by building something better to look forward to,’ Davie advised quietly.
She glanced back at him, seeing sympathy overlay the passion in his eyes. ‘Like you are doing for the nation.’
‘Like you can do for yourself. You are free now, Faith. Free to remake the future as you choose.’
And what would she choose, if she were completely free? Desire resurged, strong and urgent. What if I said I wanted you, now?
But of course, she did not say that. ‘I may be freer,’ she replied. ‘But with the Dowager, and my sons’ futures to protect, I’ll never truly be free of the shadow of being Duchess. Never truly free to choose only what I want.’
She gazed at him, willing him to understand what she could not say. Perhaps he did, for his face shuttered, masking whatever response her answer aroused in him.
‘Then, as in Parliament, you must strike the best deal you can get with the opposition, so all can move forward. Speaking of which, I’m afraid I must get back.’
A sharp pang of regret made her want to protest. Suppressing it, she said, ‘Of course. You have important work waiting. Which just reinforces how trivial my little problems are. How I wish I could observe you making those real, significant changes!’
‘There’s nothing more important to the future of the nation than you raising your boys properly! But if you would be interested in hearing some conversation about the Reform Bill, Lady Lyndlington still plays hostess for her father. I’m sure she would be delighted to include you in one of their discussion evenings. With it being hosted by a marquess, I don’t think the Dowager could object to your attending. Shall I ask Lady Lyndlington to send you an invitation?’
Oh, to spend an evening where people talked about important ideas, where, among statesmen and diplomats, a mere society female whose opinions were of little value would be ignored. Where she’d be able to sit quietly and just observe. And escape, for an evening, all the petty problems that pricked at her daily.
‘It sounds fascinating, but...would you be there, too? It would be rather intimidating to attend such a gathering of intellectuals, having only a slight acquaintance with all those present.’
‘I’m sure you’ll have met most of them at various society gatherings. But, yes, if it would make you feel easier, I could make sure I’m invited as well.’
‘Then, I should love it! If you’re certain Lady Lyndlington wouldn’t find it impertinent of me to request an invitation? I’ve met her, of course, but could hardly claim to call her a friend.’
‘I imagine she would be delighted of your company, but I will ask. Now, we should probably be getting you back as well. Shall I send you a note after I’ve spoken to Lady Lyndlington?’
Glancing over at the clock, Faith noticed to her surprise that they had been chatting for some time. ‘Yes, I should go, too. I’d prefer to already be at home before my mother-in-law returns from the Park, and the inquisition begins.’
Hating to bring their time together to an end, Faith made herself rise. ‘How can I ever thank you enough? Rescuing me not once, but twice, and then offering the promise of a stimulating evening.’
‘It would give me the greatest delight to stimulate you.’
Her eyes flew to his face, and though it coloured a little at the blatant double entendre, he didn’t apologise, nor did he retract the remark. Instead, he simply looked at her, giving her another glimpse of heat before masking his gaze.
Arousal returned in a rush. How easily she could imagine the delight his ‘stimulation’ would bring her!
She wanted to reply in kind, to make clear she understood and shared his desire. But so inexperienced was she in flirtation, before she could come up with some cleverly suggestive remark, he said, ‘I hope you’ll enjoy a political evening at Lord Witlow’s even half as much as I have enjoyed this conversation. I’ll send you a note as soon as I’ve spoken with Lady Lyndlington.’
She suppressed a sigh, irritated that she’d let the opportunity slip. Accepting his redirection of the conversation back into proper channels, she said, ‘Thank you again. I’ve enjoyed our conversation, too. We mustn’t let our friendship lapse again, must we?’
Friendship...and perhaps more? He offered his arm, and she took it, a little surge of energy flashing between them the instant her fingers touched him. As he escorted her out, she was once again intensely aware of his virile presence beside her, the strength, confidence and sense of purpose that seemed to radiate from him.
Ah, yes, her Davie had grown up, and the man he’d become fascinated—and attracted—her. Regardless of the potential danger of that attraction and the possible
