“Be absolute nodcocks,” Tabitha said.
Lillian laughed.
“Who are nodcocks?” The Duke of Collingford’s mother, tall and regal, strode into the room. She still wore her beauty, if not her youth, about her like an exquisite, perfectly tailored gown. Her yellow hair had a streak of white through the middle, which the woman seemed to highlight her coiffure. It was no wonder Lord Devon called all ladies goddesses. His mother was one.
Everyone rose to their feet, but the dowager duchess waved them back down. Jane and Tabitha took their previous seats as Lillian and the duchess sank into theirs.
“A little birdie told me we had guests,” the dowager duchess said. “I am happy, as always, to see you, Miss Clarke. Tell me, how is my son coming along in his apprenticeship?” The corner of her lips hitched up. “Some tell me it’s odd for a duke’s son to ‘lower’ himself. My late husband’s brother is quite incensed over it. I find it remarkable, myself, that Devon has taken on such a challenge.”
Lillian’s lungs filled with clean, lovely air. Lillian found Lord Devon’s dedication to his new pursuits remarkable, too. Despite his obvious attempts to annoy her at every turn, he’d impressed her, and she had not known she’d felt defensive for him until his mother had voiced what so many around them thought of her son.
Perhaps that’s why she’d let him touch her, kiss her, last night. Let him? Ha! She’d demanded it. Her skin still felt aflame everywhere his lips had landed, lingered. Her cheeks flamed, too. She should not be thinking of such things with the very man’s mother so nearby.
“Your son is a remarkable man,” Lillian said, proud that her voice did not waver. She reached for her teacup, grateful for something to do with her hands.
“I hear he is here, too,” the dowager duchess said, craning her neck to look around the cavernous room, “but I do not see him.”
Lillian dropped the cup she’d just picked up, and tea spilled onto the table as it clattered to its side. Lillian jumped to her feet. “Oh! Oh no, I’m so sorry!”
The duchess gestured for her to sit with a kind smile. “There is no need to apologize, Miss Clarke. It happens to the best of us.” She waved a footman over, and the mess was soon swept away.
Tabitha poured another cup for Lillian, and this time the cup shook when Lillian lifted it from the table. She clutched it tightly, determined not to let it fall.
Lord Devon was here. In the same house as her.
They would often occupy the same home in the coming years, as they had in the previous months. Everything had changed; the comfortable animosity dashed. Her skin itched, her bones ached, and her mind whirred. Where, exactly, was he? Would she see him this afternoon? She’d left early this morning, after her parent’s lecture, for the succor of friendship, but also because she knew Lord Devon would appear sooner or later.
Devon? Lord Devon? What should she call him now?
Didn’t matter. However she should address him now, she’d do so while running away. As she had this morning.
She stood, teacup in hand, and walked to the window. Raining. Drops slapped the window in a steady rhythm and muddied the street outside the townhouse. She craned her neck to look up at the sky. Gray. She’d walked here. Now, she’d have to beg the use of a coach or call a hack now. Or walk in the rain.
Get drenched or confront Lord Devon? A difficult choice.
“You are quite pensive this morning, Miss Clarke.”
Lillian jumped out of her slippers with a yelp and turned toward the voice,hisvoice.
Lord Devon’s eyes twinkled.
“You scared me, my lord.” She clutched her racing heart. Racing because of the fright or because of him?
“My apologies. I did not mean to. Arty and I made such a racket entering the room, I thought…” He leaned low and whispered in her ear, “Surely you heard us and were refusing to face me.”
Had she heard him enter, she may very well have done that. Or jumped out the window. Now she could not because a note of challenge lilted in his voice. She faced him. Looked him full in the eye. And managed not to be blinded.
“Why are you so handsome?” she grumbled.
“Why do you sound so upset about it?” He folded his hands behind his back. “We need to speak.”
She nodded. No escaping it.
“I returned to your townhome this morning to do so, but your father blew out my ears with his bellows before I even set foot in the door.”
“Bother. He’s still yelling, then.”
“At least my tendons are still in place.”
