Page 20 of How to Tempt a Duke

“You were looking for me?” She lifted a brow in the manner her mother often affected, hoping her face mirrored skepticism and not hope. Hope would be foolish.

Amelia quietly shifted to walk behind Eleanor, allowing her a modicum of privacy with Charles.

“I feared you might be disappointed after the last lesson,” Charles said.

“I wasn’t pleased,” she conceded. “I’m not doing as well as I’d hoped.”

He held out his arm to her. “May I walk with you a moment?”

There was no hesitation on her part, as there had been previously. She slipped her arm through his. “Of course. Thank you.”

As they began to walk together she could not help but notice the solidness of him beneath his sleeve. And he smelled of foreign spices—something pleasant and exotic she could not quite place.

“I’d like to be frank with you once more,” Lord Charles began. “That is, if you are inclined to hear my opinion on the matter?”

“I am,” she replied, despite the jangle of her nerves. “I wish to learn.”

But, while she was being truthful in expressing her wish to learn, the idea of hearing more criticism of her person dragged her lower into herself.

“Why do you wish to learn?” he asked.

“To obtain a husband befitting my station,” she replied readily. After all, it was what was expected of her—what was necessary.

“I think there’s more to it than that.”

His response took her aback, and the subsequent silence left her contemplation hanging between them. It would be easy to push the answer down inside her and bury it beside the rest of her emotions. But wasn’t she trying to unearth them all? Wasn’t she trying to be warmer? More approachable? Didn’t she want to have depth?

“I don’t want to live a life without passion,” she said, in a quiet voice only he would be able to hear. “I enjoy reading so I can experience the emotions of the characters, to revel in their liberation to express them. But they are fictional and do not suffer the consequences we do. I have always been envious of the ability to express oneself so completely. I want to be free to feel.”

Her heart raced at her confession. She had given merit to the truth and said it aloud for the first time in all her adult life.

Charles smiled warmly. “I think you are on the right path, Lady Eleanor.”

“Why, then, is it so difficult?” she asked.

“You did well initially the last time,” he answered. “But then you changed. I feel there was a reason for that, and I hope I might be able to help you identify what it might be.”

Eleanor was glad to be walking beside him, with the brim of her bonnet covering her face, lest he see the heat blazing through her cheeks. After all, such things were impossible to mask, no matter how one schooled one’s face.

She knew exactly what had been responsible for the change in her at their prior lesson. It had been her own foolishness. The way she’d so easily reacted to Lord Charles’s kindness, the recollection of her mistakes, and the reminder of how painful it was to love.

“Have I overreached in my frankness?” he inquired.

Eleanor realized she’d been contemplative for too long. “No.”

“How did you feel when you made the first introduction?” Charles asked.

Beautiful.

Desired.

“More genuine,” she answered. “As though you were meeting me as a person and I you, rather than just performing the stiff formality of introduction.”

“I thought as much.” There was a note of delight to his tone. “I felt the connection as well.”

Eleanor hated the little flip her stomach gave, and hated how difficult it was to force herself not to turn toward the allure of his handsome smile.

Lord Charles deftly guided her around an aging couple in front of them who walked at a much slower pace.