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She opened her mouth and then shut it quickly. She pressed her lips together and then shook her head slightly. “I have two dear friends who are both with child, and I don’t wish to leave them when they might need me.”
Again, it sounded like a feigned excuse. She obviously wasn’t about to tell him the truth. “Very well, if you think of some activities the boys can do to get them out of this house to expel some energy, we will stay here.”
“I will make certain they have plenty of outside activities.” She leaned back into the chair looking very relieved.
“Would you like to help me with this?” he said, pointing to the piles on his desk. “I have no idea who any of these people are but they all seem to want me to attend a function of theirs.”
She smiled softly, making his heart beat a little faster. Her full rosy lips seemed to beckon to him. He couldn’t think of her in such manner. Abigail was the woman he wanted. Not Elizabeth.
And yet, Elizabeth was here and Abigail refused to consider coming with him. Elizabeth was the woman helping him sort through this mess. Even though doing so might make her lose her home.
“I would be happy to help you sort through the invitations. I should have mentioned that most men of your position do hire a secretary to assist them with all this.” She grabbed a pile of invitations and quickly collated them into three piles.
“I will not be here long enough for a personal secretary,” he said.
“Right,” she said with a nod. “This stack is the definite refusals.” She handed him the first mound of papers. “This is your personal mail.”
Finally, she pointed to the third stack. “These are the invitations that we will need to determine if you wish to attend. Some are balls, a few musicales, and dinners.”
Will looked at the third pile and sighed. There still had to be at least fifteen invitations to sort through. He quickly scanned his personal mail and paused at the familiar handwriting.
“All right, we’ll start in a minute. I’d like to read this letter first.”
A wave of guilt passed over him for his passionate thoughts about Elizabeth. It would never happen again. After breaking the seal, he skimmed the note and then slowly read it again.
“William, is everything all right at home?” Elizabeth asked.
Had she noticed the pained expression he knew was on his face? “It’s a note from Abigail.”
He crumpled the letter, stood, and then hurled it into the fireplace. After walking toward the window, he stared out at the courtyard but saw nothing. “Her father is pushing her to marry Josiah Harwood. She doesn’t agree but cannot disobey her father.”
“Why not?” Elizabeth whispered. She stood behind him even though he’d never heard her move.
“She could never defy him. He wants her to marry a wealthy, patriotic American.” He felt her hand on his arm and shook off the flash of desire that raced up his forearm. “She believes it might be best if I stay in England.”
“I don’t understand, William. You are all those things her father wants in a husband for his daughter.”
Pain scorched his head and heart. “No, I am not.” He turned and stared at her. “I’m a bloody Englishman. A goddamned duke.”
Her face crumpled almost as tightly as the letter from Abigail. “But once you sell everything and return, you shall be all that her father wants.”
“You do not understand,” he muttered. He closed his eyes as her soft hand cupped his face.
“Try making me understand,” she whispered. “I only want to help you.”
“I will never be good enough for them. To them I’m nothing but a poor farmer. And not even an American one at that. Nothing I do will ever convince her father that I am an American. Not even giving up this damned inheritance.”
He opened his eyes and saw tears in her green eyes. This wonderful, sensitive woman was crying over his pain. And that wasn’t right. He couldn’t move his gaze away from her eyes, her lips, that pert little nose that he wanted to kiss.
And why couldn’t he? Abigail didn’t want him any longer, if she ever had wanted him. Right in front of him stood a beautiful woman who openly flirted with him, teased him, and seemed to desire him.
Slowly he lowered his head toward hers. He paused barely an inch away from her lips. If she moved, he would let her go. But she did not.
He curved his hand around her neck, bringing her closer, until their lips met. Shock and desire soared throughout his body as they kissed. All he’d wanted was a little comfort from her. Something to make him forget his pain. And now, all he wanted was to lay her down on the sofa and make love to her all afternoon. He wanted to leisurely explore her body and kiss every freckle, wherever they might be.
He let his tongue glide across her lips, hoping she would open for him. And she did. But he never expected the all-encompassing passion as her tongue touched his, met him, and caressed him. He moved his hands to cup her face.
She tasted sweeter than he ever imagined. A combination of honey and cinnamon, and it drove him mad. He trailed his hands down her back, pressing her closer to him, to his rising erection. Damn, how he wanted her.
