Page 47 of Distracting the Duke

“I’ll be polite and pleasant, a good host. But I won’t seek out her company.” He groaned again. “Because if I were to find myself alone with her again, I couldn’t answer for the consequences.”

Snetty snickered. “I’ll take a wager on what those consequences will be.”

“It’s no joke. This is a very difficult situation.”

Snetty nodded sagely, but there was a decided twinkle in his eye. “Very hard, indeed.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. It was completely ridiculous to want two women at the same time. How had he ever managed to get himself into such a predicament, when he was normally so clearheaded?

There was no viable solution to the dilemma.

Maybe he should just renounce both women, give up his title, and become a monk.

That, at the moment, seemed by far the easiest option.

Chapter Twenty-Four

It was a bright, fresh morning and the dew still lay on Wroxham’s lawns. Birds sang their morning anthems, and in the distance the cries of gulls were a novelty.

Despite the duke having offered to take his visitors for a picnic on the beach that afternoon, Clara had been too excited to wait. She was certain the sight of the sea and a walk along the strand with the wind in her hair would blow away the cobwebs and stop her fretting about Kate and trying to understand the duke’s behavior. There would be the distraction of new kinds of plants that enjoyed the local soils, different types of sea and marsh birds, and the soothing lapping of the waves. She had a spyglass tucked under her arm in case there were any passing ships to observe. But first, she needed to breach the thick stand of conifers that acted as a windbreak for the rough pastureland behind the salt marsh and the dunes.

She’d just quickened her step in anticipation when a dark figure emerged from the shadow of the pines and struck out for the same footpath she was strolling along. Not having expected to meet anyone else up and about so early, she hesitated, then stopped.

Botheration! There was no mistaking the height, golden-blond hair, or erect stance of the duke.

He clearly hadn’t expected to meet anyone, either, since he was without hat or cravat, and he wore no waistcoat, just a light moleskin jacket over a loose white shirt, undone at the neck.

Her body’s reaction was immediate. The peculiar yearning, the pull in her belly, the butterflies in her stomach. All awoke with painful force, and she gasped at the shock of it.

An encounter out here, with no one else to see, could mean disaster for her newly made resolutions. Despite the tremor in her knees, she turned and walked rapidly back in the direction of the house. But she’d seen, in that brief moment of recognition, that he’d observed and recognized her, as well, and had come to an abrupt halt, just as she had.

So, she had the power to stop the Duke of Ulvercombe in his tracks, did she?

This was not part of her plan.

It suddenly occurred to her that if he hurried, he might catch her up and they would be forced to converse…or end up doing other things they really ought not to.

But, no. If he was to become Ellie’s husband, Clara must be able to meet him with complete equanimity. She turned around, ready to rebuff any amatory advances.

Except… Where was he? He’d not followed her, after all.

Was that him, just disappearing between the trees?

Well! It was one thing for her to deliberately avoid him, but for him to do the same thing to her was unutterably rude! Surely, he could have managed a polite “Good morning,” as they passed each other—no conversation would have been required.

Biting her lip, she turned back and resumed walking toward the windbreak of conifers.

She wouldn’t attempt to speak to him. She was just curious to see what he was doing. He’d deliberately avoided her. Did he have something to hide?

Visions of smugglers, and pirates, and spies flashed through her mind. Nonsense, of course. Nonetheless, the urge to follow the duke was too strong to resist.

She had her telescope. She could hide in the shadow of the trees, or behind the dunes, and see without being seen. But if she didn’t hurry, she’d lose him altogether.

By the time she reached the stand of trees, she was out of breath from running. Curse the man, how did he manage to move so fast?

She could see between the conifer trunks that Ulvercombe was making his way toward the beach—presumably where he’d come from in the first place. How long would he linger there in order to avoid her company?

A lick of salt breeze whispered across her face, and she inhaled deeply. At this hour of the morning there was still a chill in the air, and a low mist hovered across the fields. It was most refreshing. Other than the breeze and some gulls hanging on the wind above the sea, all was quiet and still.