How to Catch a Duke in Ten Days by Violet Hamers

Chapter Eleven

Antony jumped back as far as he could from Lady Hermione, and she hurried to stand straight against the wall and fix her hair. The door opened, revealing the face of the butler.

“Ah, Mr. Harris,” Antony tried his best to affect a nonchalant tone, “it was Lady Hermione after all, just taking in the sea air.” She nodded in agreement with him.

“I see.” Mr. Harris did not look convinced though he had the decency to try and hide the smile playing upon his features as he opened the door wider for them to step inside.

Antony gestured for Lady Hermione to go in first. She hurried in and headed straight to the stairs, just as he lingered at the bottom, watching her go. Mr. Harris closed the door behind them. When she was halfway up the stairs, she paused and looked back to him. The connection of their eyes made something in his chest jolt.

What is happening to me? He’d felt such a jolt before but not for many years. He didn’t want to feel such things again; they were dangerous.

The look between him and Lady Hermione did not draw a smile from either of them, but there was something in the intensity of their gazes that made him long to follow her up those stairs straight to her chamber. She looked away and walked up the steps. He had to take hold of the newel post at the bottom of the stairs, practically stopping himself from the temptation to follow her.

As she disappeared across the landing, he moved through the hallway, taking the book he had discarded on the table nearby and carrying it back to the library with him. However, as he sat down to read, none of the words went in. His mind was in a much more interesting place. He was thinking of what could happen if Lady Hermione were not a respectable daughter of an Earl. If she were one of the ladies at the gentlemen’s club, he could more than happily indulge in his desire for her.

Such thoughts filled his mind with images, thoughts where she was in this library with him, perhaps splayed on the rug beneath him as he made love to her beside the heat of the fire. He could picture it now, with that golden hair fanning her face, her body arching against him, those beautiful eyes staring up at him as he pleasured her.

He snapped the booked closed, realizing just what he was doing. He hadn’t pictured making love to Lady Hermione at the club, but here. In his own house. This he could not allow to happen.

He had to start putting distance between them. For the next couple of days, he decided it would be best to spend his time out of the house, on day trips, errands for the dukedom, anything at all. If he could busy his mind enough with other things, then perhaps, just maybe, he would stop thinking of Lady Hermione.

I pray it may work.

* * *

Hermione felt a genuine smile take over her face. For the first time in days, she was not worrying about the past nor worrying about the Duke of Benson either. She was merely thinking of the game of shuttlecock she was playing with Phoebe.

“My point again,” Phoebe declared with delight as she swiveled the spindly racket in the air.

“It was indeed,” Hermione laughed, picking up the feathered shuttlecock from the floor with her free hand. Rather pleasingly, the sun was out, giving the two of them a good reason to escape the house and enjoy themselves.

“It is so good to see you smile so,” Phoebe said, gesturing to her face with the racket. Hermione’s smile grew even greater as she walked around her sister in the garden.

“It feels good to smile so again,” she agreed, tossing the shuttlecock in the air and hitting it back to her sister, only Phoebe didn’t hit a return, and it fell to the lawn. “I think that was my point.” Hermione’s smile faltered, just as she saw Phoebe’s expression. She lifted the racket once more and pointed behind Hermione.

Hermione slowly turned around to see exactly what her sister had been pointing at. Her father and Cordelia were hurrying toward her, out of the house and through the flower borders.

“Oh dear, well it was a nice illusion of freedom whilst it lasted,” she sighed, passing the racket to Phoebe, knowing that was the end of her fun today.

“What are you doing?” the Earl seethed in a whisper as he reached her side.

“I was having fun with my sister,” Hermione declared quite happily.

“And whilst you have been having fun, His Grace has spent the last three days out of this house,” Rufus summarized succinctly. Behind him, Cordelia was nodding eagerly in agreement. “How do you think it fares for your conquest of him?”

“Conquest?” Hermione repeated in disgust before throwing up her hands in the air, pleading with her father to listen. “Father, he has been attending to his tenants and to business. What do you wish me to do? Plead with him to take me with him?”

“Yes,” Rufus said with a firm nod.

“Oh, dear, that might be quite improper,” Cordelia said softly, coming up to Hermione and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Aunt,” Hermione said, thinking her aunt had come to agree with her.

“No, I mean, it might be best if you ask him sweetly to show you the area, not beg him to take you with him,” Cordelia pointed out. She somehow said all the words with a gentle tone and a kind smile, softening Hermione’s objection to the idea.

“Maybe tomorrow,” she said, turning back to Phoebe in the hope that they could continue their game.

“No, today,” Rufus’ sharp voice brooked no refusal and made Hermione fall still. “The carriage is being prepared again for his departure. Go to him. Now.”

“Father,” Hermione turned back to him, preparing to argue, “I do not think–”

“What you think is irrelevant,” he said, his voice hissing with anger as he stepped toward her. “Need I remind you that in a matter of days your secret could reach this town? What then? The Duke will hardly marry you when he hears how your last betrothed abandoned you. Then Phoebe will be condemned to a life of spinsterhood too.”

She hung her head, looking away from her father.

“Go to him,” he ordered.

Hermione looked up just enough to see Phoebe on the verge of tears, really quite frightened by the argument, and Cordelia was clasping a hand to her mouth, somewhat upset too.

“I’ll go,” she said, desperate to ease some of the pain in her family’s faces.

“Good,” the Earl took her arm and began to steer her toward the house with Cordelia following closely behind them. As Hermione reached the door, she glanced back to her sister, seeing Phoebe trying to stop tears before they could fall, then someone else appeared in the garden.

Officer Stenham was walking through the garden when he spotted Phoebe. Rather pleasingly, he walked straight toward her and seemed to offer to join her in her game. The smile that spread across Phoebe’s face made Hermione sigh with envy. At least one of them had a reason to smile.

Hermione was towed through the back corridors of the house, up to the entrance hall near the front where her father pointed through the window at what was happening outside. The carriage was already in place and the Duke was standing beside it, talking to the butler as he prepared to get inside.

“Go,” her father urged her. “And do not mess this up.” She cursed inwardly at his words before stepping out through the door. On the front step, she glanced back to the window, fearful that her father would watch her, peering through the glass. She had committed now, regardless. She had to do this, she reminded herself. For Phoebe’s sake.

She hurried toward the carriage, seeing the Duke look at her just as the butler bid him goodbye and walked past her into the house.

“I thought you were playing a game with your sister?” he asked.

“You noticed?” She felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She was startled; for the last three days they had barely seen each other at all. His words now suggested he had been taking note of just where she was.

“I did,” he said, turning to the carriage door as though the conversation were over. “If you would excuse me, Lady Hermione, I am off out today.”

“May I join you?” She tried to hide the trembling of her hands behind her back as she asked him. He paused with one foot up on the step of the carriage before turning back to look at her.

“I do not think that is for the best,” he said quietly, glancing up to the footman and coach driver at the front of the carriage. Whilst he was distracted, she glanced back to the window of the house. She could just see the top of her father’s head before he bent back down again, below the window frame.

“Why not?” She pretended innocence, taking a step toward the Duke.

“Well,” he whispered to her, turning away from the coach driver and footman, “you do not bring out my best behavior as you have seen with your own eyes.” The flirtation made her blush. She could feel the heat reddening her cheeks. “And do not blush so, or you’ll make me want to change my answer.”

“I can hardly help it,” she pointed out, looking up at him and catching his gaze.

“Hmm, debatable,” he said with a smirk, making her own smile drop. “Return to your game, Lady Hermione. I must be off.”

Dismayed he was about to leave, and that she had failed in her task, she found desperation tinging her voice. “Please?” she said the one word only. He froze once more on the step before turning back to look at her.

“Why?” he asked, taking his foot off the step and turning to her with folded arms.

“I’m sorry?” She was startled by his question.

“Why do you wish to come with me?” he said, whispering to her as he glanced once more to the staff at the front of the carriage.

“Good company,” she said with a teasing smile, watching as a laugh fell from him.

“Now, I know you are lying,” he said, pointing at her. “You were certainly most put out by my company before.”

“That is not true,” she argued.

“All right, not put out. You may have found me a little…” he paused, trailing off, tempting Hermione to offer her own words.

“Forward? Arrogant? A little rude?” she asked.

“Is there a compliment in there somewhere?” he chuckled.

“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.

Her mouth went dry as her gaze slipped from the gown toward the Duke on the other side of the coach. He seemed very happy with himself indeed.

“A gift for me?” she asked. “Why?”

“To replace the one I tore,” he explained. “It was the least I could do.”

Hermione felt the smile fill her cheeks as she looked back down to the gown, thrilled by it. Before her, the Duke was starting to appear a somewhat different man. Yes, it was easy to flirt with him; he had a great sense of humor, was interesting, and she certainly liked him, but beyond the arrogance, there was clearly something else she was starting to discover.

Just like the kindness he had shown the other night when he had pulled her back from the cliff edge, fearing for her, now he was trying to make amends to her for ripping her dress.

There is a kinder heart in his breast than I realized before.

Then the carriage began to jolt from side to side, signifying that they had come off the main road and onto a potholed track.

She looked up, catching the Duke’s gaze.

“Where is it we are going?”