Page 107 of How Not to Marry a Duke

Chapter Twenty-One

Warwick urged the stallion to ride fast through the fields. The late afternoon sun was a low golden ball in the sky and lit acres of wheat fields. Lady Heywood hadn’t stayed for two full days before declaring she must return. Before she’d climbed into her coach, she’d turned to him and brushed his cheek with her bejeweled hand. “Remember what I said, Daniel. You mustn’t wait. Despite what you believe, time isn’t on your side.”

Her voice was hard to forget. He’d tried to immerse himself in his workshop. His work had distracted him for a half hour before he tossed down his wrench and headed for the stables. He needed to clear his thoughts, and a good hard ride through the fields should help.

But no matter how hard he tried to purge his godmother’s voice from his mind, her words returned.

If your intentions toward the lady are not proper, then you must not ruin Lady Adeline’s chances.

His intentions were to stick to their agreement. He had believed that was what Adeline wanted as well. She’d talked of her dreams to care for others, and those dreams didn’t include a duke who immersed himself in machinery, and who often had grease under his fingernails.

She deserved more. A man who would adore and love her. A man who would stand by her and give her the family she wanted.

Let her go. Let her find happiness with another.

That was the rub, wasn’t it? The thought of her with another made his skin tight and his gut clench. A different thought crept into his head.

Why can’t I be that man?

He admired her intelligence and had no desire to stand in the way of her dreams. If she wanted to heal all of Kent, he would have no objection, dammit.

She could be as different a duchess as he was a duke. He’d never cared what the aristocracy thought of him.

But love was an entirely different matter.

Adeline wanted love. He had no experience with the emotion. His father had been distant and had rarely shown affection. His parents’ marriage had been as frigid and cold as a block of ice, and they’d both taken lovers. They’d produced an heir, a boy whom they’d never understood. He’d been fascinated by books and knowledge and had nothing in common with his father. Rather than try to understand their son, they’d found him odd…an embarrassment.

Lady Heywood had stepped in and attempted to take his mother’s place, but as a boy he’d been starved for love from the duchess. His heart had been hollowed out for so long he’d grown to believe love illogical, a foolish fantasy written of by poets.

He cared for Adeline more than any other woman he’d known. He could offer her friendship, the dukedom’s abundant coffers, his title…plenty of passion.

But not love.

It would have to be sufficient. It had to be.

He reined the stallion away from the fields and toward the path that led to Adeline’s house. His resolve increased as he grew closer and the small cottage came into view. His heart pounded in anticipation of seeing Adeline. Of kissing her once on her sweet lips and stroking her magnificent hair. He felt right. Good. Happy.

Henry rested in his pen and the hounds wagged their tails in greeting. Warwick stopped to pat each of the dogs on the head before stepping onto the porch.

He raised his fist, but Adeline opened the door before he could knock.

“Your Grace.”

Her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes bright. She’d never looked more beautiful. “Hello, Adeline. May I come inside?” She bit her bottom lip, and he tried not to lower his gaze to her lush, pink lips or to recall how they trembled beneath him in the throes of passion.

Then she looked to the left, then right, as if she were expecting another.

“You seem surprised to see me.”

“I thought you were someone else.” Her brow furrowed, then she opened the door wide for him to pass.

He entered and shut the door behind him. She led him to the parlor and sat on the sofa. Rather than choose a chair across from her, he sat beside her. She didn’t seem to notice. She tapped her foot. Her behavior was odd, and he watched her carefully.

“Is Henry well? The hounds?” he asked.

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“Your animals?” he prodded.