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“You have nothing to worry about, Miss Beaver. I do not take unless I’ve been offered, no matter how tempting your plump lips are.”
“I must beg of you to guard your tongue!” Lest he tempted her to irresponsible wickedness.
He reached out and tugged the handkerchief down to her neck. She lowered her head, so the cap would hide her face from full view. His thumb stroked along her jaw, and then her chin, and her heart rate tripled as he caressed the side of her neck. This was wrong, so wrong, and yet…her lips parted.
The loveliest breeze glided through the open library window, cooling the odd heat fluttering in her stomach. She glanced desperately at the clock above the mantle. “We’ve been playing over an hour, Your Grace...Christopher. And I predict we have several more hours to go to end this match. I…I cannot stay until dawn.”
“I will let you go…if you promise to finish this game with me.”
He asked the impossible, yet something wild burned inside her to say yes. “I will think on it.”
“I will accept that for now.”
She pushed to her feet, hurrying to the windows.
“I shall escort you to your carriage.”
She glanced over her shoulders, regarding him with some amusement. “You believe I took a carriage to infiltrate your home?”
He looked enquiringly across at her. “I’ve seen odder situations. Allow me to escort you to your equipage.”
“I walked.”
“You must live nearby then,” he murmured, watching her keenly. “Have we met? You seem familiar.”
Why did she feel as if he mocked her? Was it possible he knew her identity? Pippa suspected that he was merely amusing himself at her expense and was mischievously enjoying her discomfiture. She was amply disguised, and they had only met once, and that was three months ago. Yet, Pippa could still recall with startling clarity every detail of their first encounter in Lady Peregrine’s library. What if… “No, we’ve not met.”
“Please, take the front door. And I shall walk with you until you are safe.”
Panic beat in her breast. “I am obliged to you, but it is quite unnecessary, I assure you!”
“I insist,” he said in a tone of tolerant amusement. “All sorts of dastardly elements walk the streets at these hours. Even Grosvenor Square has hopeful footpads lurking at these hours.”
Unable to think of any suitable rejoinder, she ignored him and slipped through the windows before he could protest, lightly running along the footpath to the side gate. Once away from his townhouse, she felt relieved. Pippa glanced around, hating that the duke had been correct. Even though the area was so fashionable, it could be dangerous. She had to walk a reasonable distance before a hackney carriage could make itself present. Keeping her head low she hurried forward on to Brook Street. Home was in Russell Square and would be at least a half hour walk.
The deliberate click of a cane on cobbled steps had her whirling around. Her heart sank. It was the duke. Dual needs of relief and trepidation clutched at her heart. If he followed her, he would uncover her address. Conversely, she felt decidedly safe to have him with her. There was a nip in the air, and with a querulous sigh, she tugged the cap lower over her head, wishing she had worn more than the tweed jacket borrowed from Miss Tilby.
They walked in silence for several minutes, and her thoughts considered how to disguise her abode. Miss Tilby lived in a most modest area, and if Pippa ventured there, she would be forced to spend the night. How would she explain that to mamma? Pippa had been at Lady Grayson's ball, and she'd complained of a headache to return home. When her mother had wanted to accompany her, Pippa had insisted she stayed and enjoyed the ball.
They turned left onto Hanover Square and then right onto Princes Street. A young boy loomed ahead, and he had the roughest look. She inched closer to the duke, and she could feel his amusement. But she was grateful for his company and suddenly furious with herself for the risk she had taken. Though she had intended to only be in his home for a few minutes and not over an hour!
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He shot her a look of undisguised surprise. “What have I done?”
"Many other gentlemen would have called the runners or magistrates to collect me. Instead, you gave me a night of experiences unlike any I've ever had and will cherish."
She kept her head down, but she felt his stare as it touched on her.
"Take off the cap and let me see your face," he murmured.
Pippa laughed lightly. "I shan’t, and I do not believe you truly expect it of me.”
The boy approached, and Pippa stiffened. He was older than she’d first thought, his face was covered with soot and a touch of desperation. The duke stepped forward, cutting him off from being too close to her. His protective gesture warmed her, and she peered at him.
What she saw was a kindness so rare, for a second, she doubted its genuineness. The duke was shrugging from his coat. When he was free of it, he handed it to the lad. Instead of appearing grateful for protection from the cold night and the slight drizzle of rain, the boy assessed the material critically, no doubt considering its worth. The duke said something to him, and the boy stared. The duke also handed him something she could not see, but when the boy flicked it, she discerned a sovereign.
Then the boy hurried on.
