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Constance checked her thoughts, as her mother was always berating her for being too forward and impulsive. She pulled her gaze from his tempting lips, wondering how to make him fall in love with her. Was it done by conversation? Or by stolen moments with shared kisses and embraces? She needed to discover its secrets and soon, for she could not abide the idea of marrying a supercilious prig like Lord Litchfield. An offer she feared Lord Radcliffe would soon accept, because she suspected her brothers were wholly in agreement that the only solution for her now was to marry.
…
Lucan fought to hold on to his self-control. Constance intrigued him against his own volition. He wanted very badly to draw her into his arms and devour her lips. He wanted her taste on his tongue, to inhale her scent of lavender and cinnamon, to see those emerald eyes darken with passion. Her freshness called to him and made him realize how often he dealt with the jaded, the depraved.
I have no friends; they have all turned from me.
Those had been the exact words Marissa had written in her letter to him. He should have felt some triumph that he was succeeding in his plan. After all, did he not want Calydon’s sister to feel the same pain his sister had endured? But the disillusion in Constance’s voice gutted him.
“I seem to have spoken a lot about me today, Lucan.” Her eyes sparkled teasingly. “I feel as if I know nothing about you, and I would wager you now know everything about me.”
His eyes traveled the length of her body. Not everything. Need coiled in his gut, and he directed his thoughts from the unbidden image of her splayed before him, those sensual hips arched provocatively as he sank his cock into what he knew would be sublime tightness and heat. He would take her slowly. He would savor every touch, every moan, and watch as her emerald eyes darkened with passion and mayhap love. Love? What the hell was wrong with him?
He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses firmer on his nose. “I am at your disposal, my lady, what would you like to know?”
“What is your favorite play?”
For some reason he expected the questions women normally hinted at. How rich was he really? Was he looking for a duchess? Had he really killed a man in the Orient? “I do not know. I have never been to a play.”
She gaped at him. “You have never been to the Theatre Royal? Or the Opera?”
She sounded genuinely appalled.
He flicked a glance at her chaperone, who sat only a few feet away. Several other couples and larger groups also picnicked, and he had seen more than a few looks of complete shock sent their way. Outright disapproval was stamped on many faces. Constance had studiously avoided them, concentrating all her attention on him.
He liked being the center of her sole regard.
Lucan had seen the need burning in her eyes to question his intentions, but she had decided to display some tact at last. He was impressed by her restraint. And that had not been the only need he’d seen in her eyes. The memory of their kiss was forever in her gaze, tempting him to behave foolishly. He gritted his teeth in annoyance as his cock jerked in his trousers with every move she made. He found himself enraptured by the way her luscious lips stretched around her food before biting into it. It did not seem as if the lady was trying to deliberately entice him. She was the complete opposite to the practiced partners in his other sexual encounters, her innocence and natural sensuality was refreshing.
“Well, Your Grace?” her strident demand forced him to focus.
Ah yes, she had been asking where he visited for enjoyment. He could hardly tell her about the hidden fight den Ainsley operated along with their gaming club. Lucan’s mind searched for somewhere with which she would be able to identify. “I have picnicked a few times at Hampstead Heath, several times in fact.” He did not reveal that this was over fifteen years ago, with his sister. The ghost of Marissa’s laughter and her softly lilted voice wafted through him. It is all so beautiful, Lucan. If only we could stay here forever.
“But you are a duke.”
“Am I?”
“Are you not?”
“I am just a regular man that inherited several crumbling estates and an inordinate amount of debts.” The estates were indeed in bad need of funds and repairs, but money was what he had in droves. He just needed to now find the interest to set the estates to rights.
Her emerald eyes assessed him deeply, seemingly probing at his soul. What was it about her that made him speak so freely? Lucan clenched his jaw in annoyance, not trusting the way he had relaxed so easily with her. The push and pull grated on him. Something in him fought to warn her, to push her away from him, to preserve the naive sweet girl that she was. Then a more primitive part of him roared in rage at his thoughts. Had his sister been given such thoughts, such considerations?
Wariness shifted in her gaze, and she frowned as if in deep contemplation, then exhaled gently with a small smile. It seemed she reached whatever decision she clearly battled. “You must allow me to take you to the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. The Lyon’s Mail is all the rage, and I am quite sure you will enjoy it. The sounds, the laughter, witnessing the amazing talent of the actors, and oh the music… You can call on me and we will go together. I am sure you have a box?”
Lucan looked at her in stupefied amazement. He might have not mingled in high society for long, but he was bloody certain no young lady would invite a man out. Whether he was a duke or not.
“I was told there is indeed a box,” he heard himself saying, as if someone else was speaking.
“Wonderful,” she said on a radiant smile, which had so much genuine appeal, he was charmed.
“Do you have any family you would like to accompany us, Lucan?”
She flushed at his hard stare but did not retreat. His family was never something he spoke about, and only Ainsley, Marcus, and the Reverend knew of them in its entirety. Lucan had determined his life was not fodder for society’s speculation so he had held them close. “No,” he said flatly, to discourage all questions in that regard.
She gave him a look filled with such sympathy, his chest ached. He wanted to tell her to keep touching him as she lightly caressed his arm in a gesture he was not sure he understood. He did not like how the simple quick touch was so pleasurable.
“I am very sorry, Lucan. It must be lonely not to have a family. Mine is very interfering and tells me what to do all the time, but I cannot imagine life without them,” she said with a smile that was kindness itself.
Her satiny skin glistened under the sunlight, her hair shone like gold itself, and the glow in her green eyes tempted him to unwind. A nameless hunger ate at him. For more. With her. And that shook him. He hardly knew her.
“I have a family, Constance.”
Her mouth formed an O of surprise. “Forgive me… I assumed—”
He waved away her apology. “It is I who should beg your forgiveness for being so brusque. I do have a family. I have two younger cousins whom I regard as sisters and an aunt living in Hampshire.”
Her eyes glowed with pleasure, and he released a slow breath. It did not feel as awful as he had imagined, revealing a bit about himself. He found he wanted to tell her something that society did not know, something not so notorious, and quite normal.
“That is wonderful, Lucan. Why are they not in town, if you do not mind me prying?”
“My cousins are still in the schoolroom, and my aunt does not belong to this society,” he said mildly.
He watched her curiosity deepen. She was so transparent in her emotions. She shifted closer to him on the blanket.
“I heard your father was a school teacher?”
The lady was informed. Not many in London knew much of his background. There was a lot of speculation, and some had the right of it, but many had it wrong.
“He was.” Going on an impulse he was sure to berate himself for later, he continued, “My mother was the daughter of the previous Duke of Mondvale, a secret she kept from us our whole lives. I fancied our father knew, but he never said anythin
g either. She was disinherited for eloping with him over thirty years ago. She was an only child and as such, I was the heir.”
“And when the duke passed on you were found, so you could take your inheritance?” she asked somewhat breathlessly.
“It took the crown four years, but they were relentless.”
