Page 56 of Distracting the Duke

But every part of her mind told her it would be a life-changing mistake.

Ellie would be heartbroken if her guardian stole her potential husband from right under her nose. And Clara knew the duke would be sorely disappointed when he realized she was not capable of physical pleasure in the way he desired. She would be rejected, and her family in shambles.

The sound of the front door opening sent her scuttling up the stairs, her heart pounding with residual guilt. She paused briefly on the first landing and glanced down to see who had entered below.

It was Lord Snettisham, holding open the door for Ellie. Both had the tousled, rosy look of people who had been walking along in a stiff breeze.

Clara frowned. Had they been to the beach together without a chaperone? Surely, Sarah or Philip would appear shortly—they must be immediately behind.

Clara waited. And waited. No one else came in.

Oh, Ellie, what have you done?

She would have to speak to her ward about the impropriety of her behavior.

Ellie and Lord Snettisham disappeared toward the back of the house, and Clara made her way thoughtfully along the passage to her chamber. Perhaps she shouldn’t say anything to Ellie, after all. This might be the solution to Clara’s awful situation.

If Ellie was to take a liking to Lord Snettisham, and that liking was returned, would he not make her a perfectly acceptable husband?

Then Clara wouldn’t have to feel guilty about taking Marcus as her lover…if she decided she wanted to try.

On the other hand… How would he feel about his best friend courting Ellie?

Oh dear. The two gentlemen needed to have a frank discussion about the single ladies beneath Wroxham’s roof, to make sure no misunderstandings arose.

And Philip needed to be informed immediately of what was going on, lest he be tempted to challenge either man to another duel.

There was altogether too much to think about. Lord, she could feel a headache coming on.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The following day’s entertainment was a country walk. Thankfully, Clara’s headache had eased overnight, so she was able to set out with all the other Wroxham guests. Feeling shy of Marcus, who was deep in conversation with Lord Stranraer, she ended up strolling along beside Ellie, admiring the views and the myriad buttercups while avoiding the midges and cow pats.

“Aunt Clara, you’re looking exceedingly well today,” Ellie said. “I think sea air agrees with you.”

The sea air wasn’t the only thing, she thought, glancing ahead to where Marcus, her friend, had paused to help Sarah over a stile.

“You look very well, yourself,” Clara responded. There was a healthy pink glow in Ellie’s cheeks, and her blue eyes shone with enthusiasm.

Clara pursed her lips. The work of Lord Frederick Snettisham, perhaps?

“The duke seems less formidable now,” Ellie said, looking toward their host as he set Sarah down with no effort. “I declare, I heard him laughing after lunch when we took boats out on the lake. He looks much nicer when he laughs, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed.”

Ellie peered at her. “You must be careful not to catch the sun. Here, let me pull your bonnet forward a little.”

Clara submitted to her ministrations, even though she knew full well it was not sunburn that caused her cheeks to flare. It was the memory of Marcus’s bold proposition.

Let me make love to you.

Anxious for a change of subject, she inquired, “Lord Snettisham does not join us on our walk?”

Ellie’s eyes darted away. “I think he said something about having business in Norwich.”

“What business can he have in Norwich?”

“He has a charming little estate on the border with Suffolk, but his lawyer is in Norfolk, as is his man of business.”