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“And what is your opinion, Margery?”
Margery started, flushing guiltily as she turned to find Honoria looking at her expectantly. “I’m so very sorry, I’m afraid my mind was elsewhere.”
Instead of repeating her question, however, the other woman pursed her lips, her gaze drifting to the other group. “You and I have known one another for some time, have we not?”
“We have,” Margery agreed carefully, not sure where this was going, nor if she wanted to know.
“I like to think you and I are friends.”
“We are,” Margery agreed again, her trepidation growing.
Suddenly Honoria leaned in close to her, excitement shining in her hazel eyes as she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Is the duke looking for a bride?”
Margery should not have been taken off guard by the question. Honoria was one of the most forthright women she knew, after all. And really, her friend bringing this up was an ideal situation—and perhaps proof that what Gran had said was only too true, and no one saw her as a possible match for His Grace. She pushed aside the sudden lowering of her spirits at that and focused on the positives of this new development. Honoria’s interest, whether it be for herself or the younger Gadfeld girls, could only be a boon to their endeavors. And if the people of Synne became aware that the duke was actively searching for a bride, it would make her job all the easier, luring every eligible woman who had an interest in becoming his duchess. In fact, she was surprised she hadn’t considered such an action sooner.
And yet all Margery could seem to do was stare dumbly at her friend, bafflingly loath to confirm her suspicions.
Honoria, no doubt interpreting Margery’s silence as offense, grinned sheepishly. “That wasn’t well done of me, I suppose. Father is always going on about the sins of curiosity. Of which I’m horribly guilty of. All the time.” She chuckled, showing not a bit of concern for her immortal soul. As if one could go to hell for being curious.
And apparently she had no intention of curbing that particular sin anytime soon, for she leaned in close again, eyes bright. “But is His Grace looking for a wife?”
This time, at least, Margery was ready for the question. That did not make it much easier to control her reaction, however. But control it she did, with impressive willpower. There was no reason to keep silent on the matter, after all, not when it would benefit them to let the truth out.
And so it was time to plant the seed. “I would never gossip, you know,” she proclaimed with an innocent expression. Then, after giving a pause for effect, to which Honoria seemed to hold her breath in anticipation, she continued, “But I’m certain His Grace will make some lucky young woman a fine husband.”
Honoria appeared as if Margery had just presented her with the Crown Jewels, her entire expression lighting with barely suppressed excitement. She looked at the duke standing beside her sister and cousins with bright eyes, and Margery could almost see the wheels begin to turn in her friend’s agile mind.
“Now,” Margery continued, smiling brightly though it felt brittle on her face, “you simply must give me the recipe of those delectable biscuits you served at tea. My grandmother is quite put out with Miss Peacham for refusing to share her own, and I do think yours would be just the thing to mollify her.”
As Honoria, distracted now from her matrimonial musings, guided her back inside the house to provide the necessary recipe, Margery bit her lip and worried at her wedding ring. What was the matter with her? Honoria had practically dropped a gift in her lap with her question, yet Margery had faltered in providing the very information necessary to assist herself in endeavoring to see His Grace engaged with all haste. Yes, she desired the man. She thought him attractive and magnetic, had dreams about him at night, found herself transfixed by the strength of him, even imagining his large hands on her…
She cleared her throat and fanned herself with her hand as heat suffused her. She obviously could not control her thoughts about the man. But what on earth could she do about it? She had no fears that she would fall in love with him. She could not possibly love anyone as she’d loved her Aaron, after all. But desire, as she had seen from her time in London while witnessing the majority of thetonchasing pleasure without the benefit of affection, was a different beast entirely. Wasn’t it…?
She blanched. What, did she think she might jump into bed with the man? That maybe her interest in him lay in her loneliness these past four years? That if they were to become lovers she might rid herself of this unwelcome attraction and finally be able to think around him again?
Well, she hadn’t until now. She bit her lip, trying to focus on Honoria as she copied the recipe, chattering all the while. Only too aware that quite another set of wheels had been put into motion.
***
As much as Daniel had dreaded the visit to the vicar’s, he’d dreaded the trip after to the inlet even more. What fresh hell was this, after all, that had him preparing to swim alone with Mrs. Kitteridge, who was quite possibly the most alluring woman he’d ever met?
No, not quite possibly. She was definitely the most alluring woman he’d ever met.
He had hoped that something might prevent the trip. Surely the ocean could stir up a good frigid breeze, the clouds might come in drunk from a night of carousing over the vast ocean, and a heavy downpour would commence as they relieved themselves of their excess. Was he asking so much, really?
But the truth could not be further from reality. There were nothing but blue skies and wisps of clouds, and the glorious sun shining down on it all.
It was as if even Mother Nature herself was conspiring against him, he thought grimly, glaring at the clear horizon as they traveled along the coastline.
“The Gadfeld women were all looking exceptionally pretty today.”
Mrs. Kitteridge’s voice was cheerful, carrying on the warm breeze. He cleared his throat, dragging his gaze away from the offensively lovely vista to look her way. “Er, yes. Yes, they were.”
“And Miss Emmeline seemed quite taken with you,” she said. Her brown eyes were large in her face, her expression encouraging.
He blanched. “I’m not suretakenis the appropriate word. I nearly crushed one of her beloved chickens, after all.”
She pursed her lips as she studied him. “You, of course, did not see the way she looked at you after the chicken fiasco. I daresay she found you adorable.”
