Rebecca hid her smile behind the cup as she lifted it again. She was not going to betray Eliza’s secret that a proposal was already in place.
“I do hope he does not keep her waiting long.”
“You forget, Mama, our father is not here for Lord Herberton to ask for his blessing.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right.” Amelia sighed. “I will be back shortly.” Amelia stood to her feet, murmuring the words in Rebecca’s ear before she hurried off inside. Rebecca rather expected she had gone hunting for a privy. With a vacant chair beside her, Rebecca sighed, feeling she would have a minute to herself to think in peace, but it did not last. The space was quickly taken by a tall figure and she looked up to see the Duke sat beside her.
“Your Grace,” she said in surprise, as he placed his teacup down beside her own.
“I asked you not to call me that,” he whispered, so only she could hear him.
Rebecca could feel the searing heat taking over her cheeks, the blush so mad and wild she tilted her head downward, hoping no one else at the table would notice.
“It is how I should address you.”
“It is not my name, Rebecca. Call me Timothy.”
Rebecca glanced around, but no one else at the table seemed to be interested or even noticed their hushed conversation.
“I cannot call you that,” she said hurriedly, turning her body toward him. “After last night…how could you expect me to?”
“You have looked at me all day as if I am suddenly your enemy.” He seemed ready to argue with her, something Rebecca was happy to comply with. “Why have I earned the title of your enemy?”
“That is not how I have looked at you.”
“Is it not? Inform your gaze then, for it is piercing.”
“Perhaps it is simply your guilt informing what you think of my gaze.”
“My guilt? What guilt?” Beside him, Lord Hiddlington cleared his throat. Clearly it was a subtle way to tell the Duke to lower his voice a little. The Duke adjusted the cravat around his neck and turned more to face Rebecca, lowering his voice another time. “I have no reason to feel guilty.”
“You…”
“I…?” He offered a small smirk with the words, evidently wanting her to say the words.
“You know what you did.”
“What did I do, Rebecca?”
“LadyRebecca,” she said quietly and firmly. “You kissed me.” She practically mouthed the words.
“I do not feel guilty about that.” He shook his head boldly and lifted his cup to his lips, swigging eagerly. Rebecca found she had no interest in the tea nor the cake in front of her, leaning away from them all.
“Why not?”
“My only regret is not having kissed you before.”
“Good Lord, you are bold, Your Grace,” she muttered quietly.
When they earned a suspicious look from the Dowager Duchess of Frampington across the table, they both made an appearance of smiling, pretending to have a much cheerier conversation than they were actually having. The Duke even returned his teacup to its saucer and served her more cake, the perfect action of a gentleman.
“You think I am not telling the truth, do you not?” the Duke asked at her side.
“You forget, I know you well by now.” She looked to him with a challenge. “I have seen how you can bend a lady to liking you with a smile, let alone many words.”
“You have never seen me kiss a lady though.”
“Shh, for goodness’ sake. Someone will hear you.” She looked around the table, but no one was interested in their conversation.
