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“I didn’t hear one,” she said, lifting her chin higher, still teasing him.
“Then you have confirmed my point. It is not my company that you crave.” He turned back to the carriage as though it were an end to the matter.
Hermione was tempted to let things end there. She could after all tell her father that she had tried her best, but what good would that do? She would probably just have to listen to his lectures for the rest of the afternoon then and his distain. Abruptly, the idea of spending the time in the Duke’s company, teasing him and flirting with him, sounded infinitely preferable.
“Then I’ll give you another reason,” she said, stepping closer to the carriage as he sat on the seat bench.
“Which is?”
“Help me get away from my father,” she said quietly into the coach. The trace of his smile disappeared as he looked past her shoulder toward the house. She prayed he didn’t see her father watching them, and when he did not remark on it, she believed her prayers had worked.
“You wish to avoid him?” he asked solemnly.
“I do. Give me one afternoon away from him, Your Grace; I beg of you,” she asked, pleading with him. She realized she was doing the very thing Cordelia had told her not to do.
Do not plead with him!Oh well, she had done that. Well, it hardly mattered. She doubted the Duke thought her the demure thing Rufus and Cordelia wished her to present herself as.
He seemed to capitulate as he sat back on the seat bench. “Bring a maid to chaperone,” he said, pointing back to the house, “then you may come.”
She was surprised by the smile that took over her features as she hurried back into the house to request the company of a maid. A short while later, she was sat in the carriage beside the maid and opposite the Duke, staring out of the window as the woods passed them quickly by.
It was part way through the journey that she realized, while she could not stop looking at the scenery beyond, admiring it, in particular at the ocean in the distance and the woodland nearby, the Duke did not look at it at all. On the contrary, he was looking at her instead.
She returned his gaze sharply, seeing him smile at her. “What is it?” she asked.
“What is what?”
“Why are you…” she trailed off, glancing at the maid beside them, wishing they were alone, so she could speak freely with him. He seemed to understand her question anyway.
“That is a difficult question to answer,” he confessed with a sigh, folding his arms.
“Why?”
“Because I am uncertain how to answer it myself.” His words sent a coil of excitement off in her stomach. She turned back through the window again, wondering if the Duke felt as she did whenever she was near him. Right now, her pulse was thrumming faster than usual, so fast that she could hear it echoing in her ears. She found herself glancing at the Duke a few more times in the journey, and each time she found him staring at her again.
When the carriage eventually came to a stop, they were in the town of Lyme Regis, pulled up in the high street and pressed between painted-white stone buildings with small black tiled roofs.
“Why have you come here?” she asked as he climbed down from the carriage. She went to follow him when he closed the door on her, turning to face her through the open window.
“That is a secret, for now,” he said, his smile growing greater. “I will not be long; wait for me here.”
“What kind of secret?” she asked, intrigued.
“You will see.” He winked at her before walking off. As he disappeared, Hermione sat back on the seat bench once more, thinking of that wink. It had made her pulse race faster again, and her palms were clammy.
The audacity to wink so!Despite her thoughts, knowing she should not be so thrilled by such brazen behavior, she was. There was something very alluring and captivating about the Duke. When he returned, he had a parcel in his hands. He climbed into the carriage before presenting it on Hermione’s lap, just as the carriage set off.
“What is this?” she asked, not touching the parcel and looking up in surprise.
“You could call it a gift, I suppose,” he said softly. “Maybe an apology even. Open it.” She rested her hands down on the brown tissue paper that was tied up with string, crinkling it softly.
“If you do not open it soon, I fear, I will open it for you out of impatience to see your reaction.” His words made her look up with an attempted warning glare although she was smiling regardless.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said.
“Want to wager on that?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow. “Hurry.” She abided by his wish and pulled back the crepe paper, peering beyond. Inside was a large white box.
She lifted the lid slowly, and the maid kindly took the lid so she could see inside. Hermione’s gaze landed on the contents, and her body fell still. Before her was a dress. Matching in color to the Pomona green dress that had been ripped by the arrowhead, it was far more expensive than hers had been. It was detailed too with fine embroidery across the bodice and down the skirt. She slowly slipped her fingers under the dress and pulled it free of the box a little, to better examine it.
