The Duke’s words were teasing, and the sound of his voice reminded her of the night before in bed. Once again, she felt that restless, helpless longing running through her blood and fought against it. She now had to spend hours, if not a whole day, with this man in the close quarters of a carriage.
“You are not, Your Grace,” she answered honestly, taking in his unfastened waistcoat, the jacket slung over a chair, his creased collar, and loosely-wound stock. “You might be mistaken for your own gardener in your present outfit.”
The Duke threw back his head and laughed, ruffling his hair with his own fingers for good measure.
“Only if my gardener had the taste and money to buy his clothes from the Jermyn Street tailors favored by my valet,” he replied, grinning and pulling on his jacket. “Anyway, are you entirely sure you are one to lecture me on correct forms of dress, Miss Holt?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.
Cecily flushed, sure that he was picturing her naked and lost in exquisite abandon. Well, there was nothing she could do to prevent that now. She had actively participated in the game and undeniably enjoyed it. She could only hope that he would tire of his teasing.
After a quick breakfast, they headed straight to the carriage, where Mrs. Barnes greeted them and reviewed the preparations and packed goods.
“Good luck, Miss Holt,” she said sincerely. “I hope you find your sister soon, and that we have both of you back here before long—and well married too. It’s been too long since Greyhaven Park had a mistress, and if any man ever needed a wife…”
Although he smiled indulgently at the old woman, the Duke also raised his hand to stop her at this point. He might be fond of her, but he was not willing to listen to what he did not want to hear.
“Thank you, Mrs. Barnes. You can be sure that I shall take good care of Miss Holt and make her the Duchess of Greyhaven as soon as I can.”
He handed Cecily into the carriage and climbed in after her. Impulsively, Cecily leaned back to the window and addressed Mrs. Barnes.
“Tell Lady Lilian that I will bring her father back as soon as I can.”
“That I will, Miss Holt,” the housekeeper confirmed with a smile. “Have no fear.”
As she sat back in her seat, Cecily was almost pleased to see the consternation on the Duke’s face.
So, here was something that was not just a game to him.
* * *
“Look! Your coat of arms!” Cecily exclaimed, flinging open the door and jumping down without waiting for assistance from either the driver or the Duke.
It seemed too good to be true. At the very first crossroads where they stopped and asked a farmer about recent travelers, they had learned that a carriage matching this description had passed the farm yesterday. Now, having proceeded to a coaching inn at the next likely stopping point, here was the very carriage in question.
Cecily ran over to the unharnessed vehicle in the inn’s stable yard and peered inside to be sure. It was completely empty of both people and luggage.
“There’s no one here,” she muttered, disappointed. “They’ve probably changed carriage here.”
“They might still be inside,” the Duke answered. “I’ll make inquiries.”
After briefly considering this possibility, Cecily hurried after him through the inn’s front door, her heart pounding and practical questions flooding her mind.
What would they do if Patrick and Mary had taken a room together here, unmarried? Would they have to escort the errant couple all the way to Scotland to oversee their wedding? Would the Duke really go to that effort, given his lax views on the precise order of wedding ceremonies and consummation?
Inside the inn, a few travelers were breakfasting, a maid was sweeping the floor, and a portly man of around fifty—presumably the innkeeper—was arranging clean glasses and plates on shelves.
“Aye, the young man hired a carriage and told me to send your carriage back to Greyhaven Park, Your Grace,” the stout innkeeper revealed. “I trust there is nothing amiss?”
“Did he pay the bill for the carriage and horses and the work on your stable?” the Duke asked bluntly. “No? I suppose he wanted it sent to me.”
“He did say to send it to Greyhaven Park,” the innkeeper admitted, a little defensively now. “He said he was your brother.”
“Heismy brother,” the Duke sighed. “Damn his teeth. Give me the bill, and I’ll settle it immediately if you tell me in which direction they went.”
“North by the main road, Your Grace,” the innkeeper answered swiftly, retrieving a piece of paper from a spike on a shelf and taking a pencil from behind his ear to jot a few further notes.
Seeing the expression on the Duke’s face, the innkeeper seemed to think better of adding anything and handed the bill over as it was.
“Did they say where they were going?” Cecily asked, stepping forward beside the Duke.
