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“I do not need to forget. I can see that the idea has great meaning for you.”
Samuel nodded, and suddenly realised how to elevate his cause.
“Meet me at the Muses. Let me be the one to show you the wonders there.”
Once she saw what the wealthy enjoyed, she would understand why everyone must have such opportunity.
“When?”
“Tomorrow at half past two?”
The enthusiasm in her smile quickened his pulse.
“I will see you then, Mr. Carmichael.”
“There you are,” Richard bellowed behind him.
The Duchess of Aspen looked past Samuel with a frown. Not ready to relinquish her, especially to return to his argument with Richard, Samuel caught her hand and bowed over her fingers. He couldn’t resist brushing his lips across that soft skin, desperate to feel her warmth once more.
A gaggle of people erupted from one of the curtained boxes. Their laughing chatter stopped as they sighted Samuel, Richard and the Duchess in the hall. She whipped her hand away, cheeks bright red, whirled, and rushed past them. They looked after her and then at Samuel, and fell into whispers.
Richard’s arm draped across his shoulder.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Sammy,” he said into Samuel’s ear.
“I play at nothing,” Samuel muttered as the gaggle moved off.
Richard dropped his arm and stepped around him, to look him in the face.
“You’re falling for a married woman.”
Samuel tugged his coat straight.
“Don’t be absurd.”
“I’m not.”
Samuel stared at his brother, finding Richard unusually solemn. He looked in the direction the Duchess had disappeared in a swish of embroidered skirts and shimmering chocolate curls. He swallowed, rocking back slightly.
“There it is,” Richard murmured.
Heaven above, Richard was right. Samuel was already half in love with the woman. And the way she’d looked up at him, for that one moment… he’d felt almost certain she wished for his kiss.
He couldn’t meet her at the Muses. He must never see her again.
The very thought shattered his heart.
Chapter Seven
Ellie knocked softly on her sister’s door, not wishing to wake Lizzy May if she rested. Her lower lip found its way between her teeth as worry wriggled into her thoughts. Lizzy May had been ill for a week straight. She’d spent the day of the garden party closeted with their mother, insisting she required maternal advice more than a doctor, but whatever Mother had advised, it didn’t seem to be working.
Lizzy May’s maid, the same one who’d helped Ellie don her sister’s garments on the first day of her ruse, cracked open the door.
“Yes, Miss?”
“Is she any better this morning? May I come in?”
It hurt to have to ask to enter her sister’s room, but after barging in the first day to find Lizzy May so obviously not ready for company, Ellie felt obliged to seek permission.
