A muscle in his jaw tensed as his smile withered, proven false with its demise. “I’m truly sorry about your father, Lady Felicia. And about any dire circumstances your family is suffering under.” He came out of a slouch she’d not known he was engaging, his rigid posture forcing her to tip her head to hold his attention. He was taller than she recalled. “I have a centuries-old duchy to protect. Tenants to feed. A village to help prosper. A reputation to uphold, including a seat in Parliament, where I’m only able to ensure positive change if I protect that reputation. It’s more than a piece of land, I’m loath to tell you. And believe me, many days, I wish it weren’t.”
“It has nothing to do with this senseless feud between our families, a skirmish not of our making?” Felicia’s fingers closedinto a fist, and she couldn’t stop herself from thumping him in the chest, right atop his heart, if he had one. “Nothing to do with you wanting to deny the Montclairs their rightful property? Nothing to do with a duke’s arrogance?”
His breath caught, a tight rush of air snaking between his beautiful lips. No man should have such a gorgeous mouth, she reasoned as his astonished gaze lifted to hers. His heartbeat kicked beneath her fist, a wild race. “You dare much, sweeting. I’d forgotten this about you.”
She blinked, the ground shifting beneath her scuffed boots. “Forgotten?” She’d not imagined Charles Harrington, the Duke of Kenbrook—Charlie—noticed her at all.
He grasped her wrist while a thousand joyous replies circled her mind. She was not invisible. Though he didn’t release her. In fact, he swayed, bringing him a step closer. “I was watching, you see. Those days when I retrieved Honoria from our hunting cabin, the two of you up to no good. Your friendship with Celeste, Georgiana, and even Rosamund was kept quiet because both families would have been displeased. I wasn’t only protecting my beloved sisters, I was protecting you. A task, based on your madness, that falls to me again.”
“But I’m no longer a child,” she said, the statement breathless.
The air surrounding them thickened as it would with an approaching storm. His regard, no longer cloaked in virtuousness, roamed her from head to toe and back again. His thumb sneaked between her glove to dust her pulse, drawing her entire being to that tiny, critical spot. Leaving the rest at his behest, if he chose to take her.
“I’m aware of that fact,” he finally murmured, his own breathlessness lacing his words.
Mere seconds spun away as the shadows shifted, with no one to record the change in awareness occurring between them.
In the distance, Fernbottom called out, shaking them from their reverie.
Dropping her arm, the duke stumbled back in a careless move, unlike him. A sheet of foolscap from the bundle Fernbottom had been holding blew past, and he captured it quite deftly beneath his polished boot. “If Loxley sees you in this getup, Lady Felicia, making offers under his purview, there’ll be hell to pay.” Going to one knee, he grabbed the page and crumpled it in his hand. “Go, now. I’ll keep the attention away from you until you’ve had time to cross the ridge. Take the servants' stairs, for God’s sake, and pray no one on the lower levels sees you in this idiotic rig.”
Her temper thankfully fired to life, kicking aside what she feared was desire, saving Felicia from making an even greater fool of herself by doing something as ridiculous as kissing him. “I won’t give up, Charlie.”
He glanced up, his eyes as deep a blue as she’d ever seen them. “Sweeting, that doesn’t come as a surprise. Actually, I’m afraid I welcome the fight.”
Chapter 4
By Annabelle Anders
She’d had one task. Make the bid. Beat out the competition. Acquire the dratted land.
And she’d failed.
Felicia rolled over, fighting the coverlet and punching her pillow in frustration.
She’d lost sight of the prize.
Because of him.
Drat the man. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d allowed herself to become distracted by their gorgeous ducal neighbor. How many times had she stared out the window instead of working on her schoolwork, watching him train his stallion across the meadow? Not to mention the way she would literally trip over herself whenever he was in the vicinity. She had yet to fall entirely on her face, luckily, but it was not for lack of opportunity.
The worst part was that he knew the effect that he had on her, always smirking if he ever happened to glance her way.
No one could induce this sort of insanity in her like he could. But today? Today, she’d let him unravel her entirely.
He’d seen right through her disguise—her trousers and the ridiculous cravat—and declared, without a hint of shame, that he’d be bidding against her.
“I was watching, you see,”he’d said.“I was protecting you.”
Arrogant. Insufferable. Deliciously tall.
And then he’d said he was well aware that she wasn’t a child.
Felicia turned again, sliding one hand between her thighs and groaning softly into her pillow.
Tap.
Tap. Tap.