‘Unless you get dragged to Penhurst’s brothel again.’
‘I shall plead a headache. Now that my favourite harlot has left, I might actually have todomy duty for King and country. Which I would hate, by the way. Because I am not that sort of man.’ He watched her reaction closely and when he saw no further evidence of any sort of jealousy or relief he realised he had imagined both. Merely the thought of a brothel disgusted her, not the thought of him in it. ‘Besides, duty calls me out to the Downs and those ships tonight.’
‘And those cut-throat smugglers.’
Seb pressed the paper into her hand. ‘There is a list of the most recent dates those ships came into Portsmouth here. I need you to do some subtle digging with Penny to ascertain whether or not Penhurst was at home at those times. Can you do that?’
‘Of course I can. Seeing as I’m now a spy, too. A rather good one, I think.’
‘You’re resourceful, I’ll give you that. And you do have excellent instincts, especially on the hoof.’
‘We both know you’d be lost without me.’
Sadly true, but thankfully she didn’t know in how many ways. ‘We should probably head back to the others. Shall I help you or are you perfectly capable yourself?’
Her smile warmed his heart. ‘We also both know I can barely move in this silly habit.’
Seb secured her saddle while she stood so close he could smell her perfume. Not what he needed when his mind was valiantly trying not to think about touching her. Once that excuse was gone, he turned awkwardly and attempted to control his suddenly erratic breathing as he placed his hands gently around her waist and she rested hers intimately on his shoulders. He hadn’t intended to make eye contact, yet his immediately sought hers and locked. A big mistake. He watched her pupils widen, then lower towards his mouth. The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, drawing his eyes to them, the air around them seemed to crackle with something heady and potent and of its own accord his head began to dip.
‘Lady Clarissa!’ Westbridge’s voice stopped him in his tracks. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘My saddle was loose. Lord Millcroft has fixed it.’ The sunny smile was now not for Seb, nor did it appear particularly genuine. ‘He is just lifting me onto my horse.’ Her gaze remained fixed on her waiting Duke as Seb did just that. While she adjusted her position he untied the reins and handed them back to her and for a second their gazes locked again. Gem’s expression was perplexed. A little startled. Awkward. As if she had known what he was about to do and was vastly relieved he hadn’t. Then she offered him the same disingenuous smile she had shot her Duke before she set her pony after the others and didn’t look back.
* * *
Dinner was running late because their host had failed to materialise, so Clarissa pasted a smile on her face and hoped she appeared riveted by Westbridge’s story rather than occupied with indecision. She blamed the peculiar moment she and Seb had shared earlier before he had lifted her onto her horse. Then their eyes had locked and, for one splendid moment as he held her, she thought he might kiss her.
Had wanted him to kiss her.
She had even licked her lips in anticipation in the hope he might realise she was not averse to the idea. But Westbridge had arrived, breaking the sultry spell, and denying Clarissa the chance to find out. Seb had appeared flustered as he had hoisted her up into the saddle and then he had stepped briskly away. Since then he had put as much distance between them as he physically could in the confines of the hall. Even now he was at the exact opposite end of the drawing room to her and deftly avoiding her gaze.
Was that shyness or uninterest?
‘If you will excuse me for a moment.’ The barnacle looked pained as she scurried off in the direction of the retiring room, finally leaving Clarissa alone with her Duke for the first time since their arrival at the house party. The poor thing must be desperate to relieve herself to relinquish her permanent spot at his side. As she watched Olivia go, Clarissa’s eyes once again wandered to Seb, willing him to stare back in the hope he would leak one clue as to how he was feeling.
‘I am glad she has gone. I have been meaning to speak with you.’ Westbridge drew her gaze reluctantly back.
‘Really. What about?’
‘Us.’
‘Us?’
‘Yes. I thought we might make things official.’ Was that a proposal? Stunned, Clarissa gaped like a fish. ‘I apologise for dragging my feet, but I had to be sure, you understand. A man in my position must choose carefully. Now that I have, I see no reason to delay matters longer than necessary. I’ve instructed my steward to book St George’s and have the banns read at the end of this week. I see no reason why we can’t get the deed done in June before thetonleave in their droves to rusticate for the summer.’
‘The deed?’ Why was she not euphoric? Disappointed, definitely. Worryingly nauseous at the prospect. Desperate to talk to Seb.
‘I’ve also taken the liberty of sending a letter to your father to discuss the settlements and to request he organise the wedding breakfast. Obviously, we shall work together with the modiste on your gown. I have made enquiries with Madame Devy who I am certain will be delighted to create just the right sort of design to befit the occasion. We can announce our engagement tonight.’
Of all the emotions she had expected to feel at this moment, anger wasn’t one of them, yet it was most certainly the one which had rushed to the fore. The urge to tell him where he could shove his lacklustre and arrogant proposal was visceral even as the sensible voice in her head cautioned her to choose her words carefully. This was what she had dreamed of and worked for. Becoming a duchess would be her greatest achievement in a life devoid of any. Sensible won, though the words were strained. ‘You are assuming I have said yes.’
‘Well, of course I am.’ He had the audacity to chortle while she wanted to scream.
‘Well, I haven’t. Yet.’ And all at once Clarissa desperately needed to think about it.
Properly.
Good gracious!
