While Cecily’s original instinct had been to assume that both Mary and Patrick were equally to blame for their falling out as for their running away, her sympathy now lay mostly with her sister. At least Mary knew that they could not live on dreams and aspired to a more independent life than accepting charity from the Duke.
“Please allow me, Miss Holt.”
Colonel Lyons offered his arm, and Cecily took it, strolling with him down the garden toward where the younger people were playing some game with hoops and hooks on a large board. As they walked, she saw the Duke leaning against a large willow and watching her intently.
So, he was the one watching me.
Cecily nodded to him and received only a curt nod in reply, which confused her greatly. Why had he not approached her, and why did he look unhappy?
After delivering Colonel Lyons into the care of Lady Jackson’s eager sons and their friends, she stopped to escort an elderly lady to a bench and then returned in the same direction past the willow tree. The Duke was no longer there, although the feeling of being watched was as strong as ever.
Scanning the gardens, Cecily could not see him, though she did notice Patrick gazing rather pitifully down at Mary in the younger crowd on the lower lawns.
Should she go and talk to him? This would be the first time he had seen Mary since they tried to elope, and Cecily definitely did not want the two of them to cause a scene here.
Before she could make any move toward Patrick, the Duke came out from the conservatory behind her.
“We must speak, Miss Holt,” he said, taking her hand in his.
“Your brother,” Cecily objected with a frown, although she made no attempt to withdraw her fingers from his warm grasp. “I ought to speak to him about Mary.”
“They’re old enough to take care of themselves,” the Duke argued. “Or are you trying to escape from me again, Miss Holt?”
“What are you talking about?”
Entirely baffled by his attitude, Cecily allowed him to draw her back into the conservatory and behind some expansive potted palms.
“Dashing soldiers, hobbling dowagers, my hapless brother—perhaps you are keen to spend your time withanyonehere but me, Miss Holt,” he replied, to her astonishment. “Who is that damned bluecoat anyway?”
“Colonel Lyons is a neighbor of Lady Jackson, and she particularly requested that I talk to him since he knows no one here,” she retorted indignantly. “As for the others, are you telling me that you are one of those men who are so insecure that they must keep their wives at their sides?”
“You were laughing with him,” the Duke accused her.
Now Cecily’s bemusement turned into anger.
“Yes, because he said something amusing. Why should I not laugh? What has gotten into you? Are you… jealous?”
The question seemed to surprise them both, and they looked at each other for a long moment. Then, instead of answering, the Duke pulled her into his arms and kissed her there, in the conservatory, which was only screened by the thick green leaves of the palms.
“Yes, I do believe I am jealous, Miss Holt,” he conceded, a trace of his usual detached humor coming back into his face, although he did not release her from his embrace. “Have I any cause?”
“None,” Cecily breathed, pressed tightly against him and feeling the powerful beat of his heart as well as the racing of her own. “When I heard nothing from you, I thought you might have changed your mind, but I am already promised to you, and I—Oh!”
Again, the Duke answered her with a kiss, this time even deeper and more improper than the ones that came before. His arm came around her waist to hold her close, and his other hand cupped her breast, the tip hardening to his touch through the thin fabric.
Cecily melted helplessly into this indecent passion, her own igniting, and her fingers tangled in his hair to hold his lips to her own.
“I have not changed my mind about anything,” the Duke told her, his words broken by hungry kisses. “We will soon have an end to such ridiculous doubts and jealousies. You are to be mine before the week is out.”
His words resonated deep within her, and she knew she would not have stopped him at that moment if he had stripped her naked among the palms. But then, he stepped back, still breathing heavily, and took a paper out of his pocket.
Cecily took it and gasped as she read the words, then looked up wide-eyed at his triumphant face. The note was from Greyhaven’s rector, confirming that he would conduct the marriage ceremony at Greyhaven Park at eleven o’clock on the sixteenth of this month.
Only five days away!
With a bow, the Duke walked away, leaving her standing there with the note in her trembling hand.
* * *
