Page 7 of A Duke in Autumn

Eugenia glared at him again, but Lady Annet laughed.

“I believe that I understand, Your Grace, for we fled the picnic to avoid the conversation of certain gentlemen.”

He laughed delightedly, offered each of them an arm, and led them back up the hill through the trees.

Chapter Four

As he walked back up the hill, with a young lady on each arm, Morris found that his thoughts were still back in the clearing. Mentally, he was reviewing, over and over again, the moment when he had come upon them. It had been like one of those bucolic paintings which were so popular – an idealised landscape, populated by barely dressed nymphs playing in the stream. Lady Eugenia and Lady Annet had been rather more clothed than the average painted nymph, but still… the expanses of legs revealed had sent a rush of heat through his body.

But even more delightful than the sight of exposed flesh, had been his immediate realisation that Lady Eugenia was doing something that society would most strongly disapprove of. At last, he had evidence that she was more than the shell of porcelain perfection that she presented to the world. When he had asked if Lady Annet had led her astray, Lady Eugenia had blushed – he was quite certain, therefore, that she remembered his words at the Pump Rooms, and satisfaction still filled him at the thought.

If she had allowed herself to do something as far from ‘good’ as this afternoon’s dangling of her bare feet in the stream, what more might she be tempted to do, beyond the rigid constraints of ‘correct behaviour’?

As they walked, Lady Annet chattered away, about the beauty of the autumn scenery, and the delightful warmth of the day, but Morris barely heard her. He was, instead, focussed on Lady Eugenia, who was silent, and simply walked, looking straight ahead. He could not but wonder about what thoughts were passing through her mind.

They emerged from the trees at the top of the rise, and the ladies indicated the blanket they had chosen earlier. He waited and watched as they stepped forward, and folded themselves elegantly to sit upon the blanket. But as Lady Eugenia sat, there was a moment when her ankle was visible, before she pulled it tighter under her, and flicked the skirts of her gown out around her. At the sight, his mouth went dry, and his breath came a little faster. He shook his head slightly in amusement at his own reaction. It was not logical that a glimpse of the ankle of a well-bred and quiet lady should seem somehow far more erotic than the flesh intentionally revealed to him by women who hoped to trap him into marriage.

Yet it was that way.

“Do join us, Your Grace.”

Lady Annet was watching him with a knowing smile – the girl was observant, it seemed. He smiled in return – a smile with a slightly sardonic edge – and moved to sit on the blanket, in the space that they had left between them. Lady Eugenia blushed again.

A footman rushed up to them, and pulled glasses from a basket, filling them with wine for each person, and then served food out onto individual plates. Morris sipped the wine, and considered – what should he say? The silence was extending.

Three blankets away, Lady Penelope Boulderwood was ignoring Lord Harper, who sat beside her, and instead watching the little tableau around Morris. If looks could be weapons, then Ladies Eugenia and Annet would have been severely injured. Let the girl look – he had no interest in her, no matter what she thought her due. The woman was painfully forward, and arrogant. Morris turned his eyes back to Lady Eugenia.

He lifted a plate of sandwiches from the collection before them, and offered it to her.

“Some sustenance, my Lady? After the… exertions… of your walk, I believe that food is a good idea.”

She blinked, as if she had been far away in her thoughts, then her eyes focussed on the plate. She reached out and selected a delicate sandwich.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I believe that you have the right of it. I suddenly feel unaccountably hungry.”

He watched as she brought the food to her soft pink lips, watched her tongue slip out to catch a falling crumb, and a very different kind of hunger filled him. He should not, definitely should not, be thinking improper thoughts about Lady Eugenia. But he was. Rather detailed improper thoughts. Which started with those lips, and went on from there.

He needed a very different topic of conversation. Immediately.

“Lady Eugenia, you strike me as a young Lady with a somewhat different attitude from those young women that I have generally met at society events. You are always immaculately attired, yet you do not seem obsessively focussed on fashion, or on gossip. So, I am intrigued – will you humour me, and allow me to know what you are interested in?”

~~~~~

Eugenia felt as if her cheeks would be permanently stained red, for the blush simply would not retreat. The Duke had seen her exposed legs, had even had the temerity to comment on them, and then, once she and Lady Annet had been restored to respectability, had escorted them up the hill as if nothing had happened! All the way, she had been acutely aware of the warmth of his arm under her hand, of his closeness, of the distinctive scent of him – something compounded of clove, cinnamon and lemon, and something else, something uniquely him.

She had been glad when Lady Annet had chattered away, for she had not known what she might say. He had teased her! He had referred to her being led astray – and she was certain that he had meant to remind her of that moment at the Pump Rooms. She did not know what to do.

When they had reached the blankets, she had been glad, for it meant that she was no longer touching him, although the loss of the warmth below her fingers left her feeling odd. But then, as she had settled down onto the blanket, her skirts had caught up on her leg, where the dampness from the stream had soaked through her stockings, and dampened her petticoat as they walked.

She hadn’t been quick enough to prevent her ankle from being exposed. It had not been for long, but he had noticed – she had seen his eyes follow her movements, even as she desperately tucked her foot beneath her skirts and spread them out around her.

And it was instructive. His eyes had flared wide for a moment, and an odd expression had crossed his face – an expression removed almost immediately – but still, she had seen it. It gave her a tiny thrill, in the most peculiar way, that the momentary sight of her ankle could engender such a strong reaction in a man.

Of course, that made her blush terribly, all over again. The footman had provided wine, and she had sipped at it gratefully, desperately wondering what they might converse about. When he offered her the plate of food, her response was banal, to say the least. It appeared that her conversational skills had quite deserted her. So she slipped the tiny sandwich into her mouth, relieved that it allowed her not to speak for a moment. But at his next words, she nearly choked upon it.

He wanted to know what she was interested in? Why? She had spent half her life trying her hardest to not be especially interested in anything beyond what ‘good young ladies’ should care about – that way, she did not risk doing anything wrong. The closest she had come to a significant interest was her sketches of imaginary gown designs. And she certainly wasn’t going to tell him about that – not directly, at least.

“My interests, Your Grace? I fear that I am remarkably bland. I harbour no secret fascinations. I, like most well-bred young ladies, can draw a little, can embroider, and I can ride tolerably well.”