Page 45 of Manufacturing a Duchess

From this green earth; of all the mighty world

Of eye, and ear,—both what they half create,

And what perceive; well pleased to recognise

In nature and the language of the sense

The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,

The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul

Of all my moral being.”

“Oh, ‘Tintern Abbey’,” was all she could manage to say. And then, “It is one of his most beautiful.”

Alec sat quietly a few moments longer, then cleared his throat, but his voice sounded gruff. “It is one of my favorites.”

Aurora looked up at him, and, for the first time, he bashfully turned his head away. The tips of his ears reddened. She watched him take a couple of deep breaths. He began again, striking a lighter note. “So, what would Homer, not Wordsworth, have Achilles say at a moment like this?”

She managed to get out, “Well, Achilles was more one for acting and not talking.” Then the import of her words struck her, and her cheeks burned.

“Perhaps he would tell Briseis this, then,” is all he replied, and now he looked directly at her. Very slowly and tenderly, he lifted her face to his. Their mouths met in a kiss, gentle at first but with a growing insistence. She felt his tongue against her teeth, and she opened her mouth to let him in.

Aurora had expected to be afraid or to find it odd or distasteful. She found instead she was enjoying kissing quite a bit. With dismay, she felt Alec pull away from her and reached out to bring him back. Instead, he gave her the lightest of kisses on her lips, jumped up and lifted her to her feet. He did not step far away, however. His arms quickly encircled her again. His eyes were wide and dark, and he seemed to have momentary trouble finding his voice. When he did, all he said was, “You are a most surprising woman, Aurora Hardcastle. I believe I shall enjoy having you for my duchess. Do you still wish me to be your duke?”

“Most decidedly, Alec Raeburn,” she responded. “Most decidedly.” But then she found herself blurting out, “But Briseis was nearly as beautiful as Helen! How⁠—”

At that, Alec threw his head back and laughed, cutting her off. “Aurora, you do like to look a gift horse directly in the mouth! I refuse to answer that question on the grounds I do not anticipate getting out on the other side of it in one piece!”

He cupped her chin in his hand and gave her a long, lingering kiss, stopping her from saying anything further. But all too soon, with a slight groan, he pulled himself away, leading her back over to their horses and helping her mount. He then remounted his own horse, and, reluctantly, they turned back the way they had come.

“Oh, hold!” she said. “Let me quickly plait my hair. This is the way I usually return from my rides.” He nodded while they paused, and then continued on back to the house, this time at a more sedate pace than when they had left. He insisted on helping her dismount once they reached the stables, refusing to let one of the grooms do so, escorted her to the house, and gently took his leave of her by bringing her hand to his lips with a kiss that worked its way to the crown of her head and the tips of her toes.

“I will see you at luncheon,” he said. “I think I need to go and submerge my head in a basin of ice water first.”

That only made her giggle. “Perhaps you should ensure Archibald is at hand. I should not like you to drown.”

“Wretched woman,” was all he said, but his eyes were warm and mischievous. They went their separate ways.

Thirty-Five

Alec was grateful the water in the pitcher still held some of its brisk morning coolness. He had shrugged off his jacket, untied his neckcloth, and plunged his head into the basin. Damnation! What had happened? Or, more pointedly, what had almost happened?

Miss Hardcastle. Aurora. He repeated her name out loud, softly to himself. He let the sounds roll around in his mouth. “Aurora,” he whispered. What was she doing to him? He was the older one, the mature one. He was to keep his head in this whole business. Yet, here he was, ready to take her for a tumble out in the meadow!

“Good God, man!” and he plunged his head into the basin yet again, staying under as long as he could. This time, he blindly reached for the towel next to him and scrubbed at his head and his face. “Good God.”

He crossed to the window and looked out, but his eyes did not see the day in front of him. Rather, he saw a pair of blue eyes which seemed to be swallowing him, and a decided heat which would keep him from heading back downstairs for a while. He brought his hand up and ran it across his lips. The feel of her mouth on his—he could still feel it. The warmth of her in his arms—he could still feel the weight, the pressure of her.

The direct gaze Aurora had bestowed on him out on their ride had done unsettling things to Alec’s thinking. And to his breathing. He had found himself actually wanting—and then he had stopped himself. The memory of their waltz, which he had been trying to suppress, returned. And that wouldn’t do. Not now. He needed to keep his head. Which he proceeded to lose. Well, nearly. He had stepped back on the brink.

This was not like Mary, which had been the quick flame of a first love. No, this was something deeper, like sitting in front of an open fire which became hotter the longer he sat there.

The other part that was different was laughter. Their shared laughter. He remembered her protest about his comparison to Briseis, and he could feel that emotion returning. What was it? God above, was that happiness? Was he feeling happy? What a sad species of humanity he was, hiding out in his bedchamber lost in erotic thoughts and wondering whether he was happy.

“Tintern Abbey.” He had not recollected that poem in years. Yet here it came, stumbling out, well, rushing out.

“I am losing my head,” he said out loud. “I am become a complete and utter fool: wildly kissing in the meadow, nearly taking advantage of a very young woman, reciting poetry. Where will this end?” In marriage, you oaf, was the immediate reply.