“My lady,” he said, bowing before me. His eyes were pale blue like ice and his face was kind and strong. He took my hand in his and, before everybody in the room, and brought it to his lips. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he murmured softly, the warmth of his kiss still upon my hand.
I confess I was at first stunned by this display. I had never met this man and had no thought of his ever showing me any affection. I almost wrapped my tongue upon itself in trying to reply, but then I recovered some of my poise and smiled at him, as charmingly as I was able. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” I replied, withdrawing my hand.
“Meet me later, in the gardens,” he whispered, so only I could hear.
I should have been outraged by such a proposition. It is no kind of thing for a lady to agree to. And I am sure my peers will think me incredibly dishonorable for entertaining such a sordid idea. But the Duke’s voice did not allow for hesitation, and I admit I was beyond curious at this point. I have him the slightest of nods, at which point he began to talk with other guests, leaving me shocked and excited: leaving me broiling with feeling.
*****
The word “later” being somewhat ambiguous, the first task handed to me was trying to work out what time, exactly, Francis wanted me to arrive at the gardens. There was no way to know for definite, so, wishing not to appear over keen, but also wishing not to miss him entirely, I waited until the sun had reached its noonday peek and began to descend for two hours before casually mentioning to Charlotte that I wished to stroll the gardens. She was taken up with the jollity of the fayre, and I bid her stay and enjoy herself. Thanking me, she freed me and allowed me to walk unescorted to the gardens.
I knew what I was doing to wrong and socially unacceptable, and yet I couldn’t forget this man. It is no way for a woman to behave, it is true, and yet I couldn’t just walk away and pretend that I had never seen him. I felt as though there was an affinity between us; I felt as though his ice-blue eyes saw past whatever element it was that ever men seemed to find so repugnant in me. Other men, after talking to me for a few minutes, will often make some excuse and flee to some quieter girl. Perhaps this has something to do with my habit of reading “unwomanly” literature, or my penchant for walking alone on the grounds around my father’s home. Whatever it is, I have been called intimidating by men, and now I take that as a compliment.
I did not think it likely, however, that I would intimidate the Duke. He had a fine, muscular build, his jacket and breeches word tight to accentuate his form. His face was strong and kind, with a solidity that was only heightened by his ice-blue eyes. He had the overall appearance of a wind-besieged mountain range, wild and dangerous and strong. I was more than intrigued. I was enthralled.
The main festivities having begun at the fayre, the garden was empty apart from one or two wanderers that presently made their way to the far end and disappeared in a sea of blues and reds and pinks and purples. I sat in a shadowed corner, fanning myself, partly because of the heat, and partly as a mummery to anyone who wished to spy upon me. How could they object to a lady taking a break from the heat? Looking around anxiously, I thought I caught sight of the Duke many times only to be disappointed. Flowers that drooped and flowers that stood proud, at every disturbance, had me craning my neck to see the Duke, who was, I was sure, the man who had caused them to rustle. But there must have been some critters in there, for he was not there.
After ten minutes, I was about to leave. Color has risen in my cheeks and I felt distinctly ill, like someone had just fed me some nasty toxin. Perhaps the Duke was toying with me, I thought; and perhaps he has told the partygoers that he has tricked me into waiting for him in the garden. If that is the case, I will be ruined and so will father. There will be no coming back from this. “How could I be so foolish!” I whispered fiercely. “How could I be such a fool! There will be consequences for this! Brutal consequences! All hell will be unleashed! Father will never be able to show his face again! Ah, what have I done!”
I almost began to weep, which further heightened my anxiety. I hate to weep, hate to appear like those heroines in popular fiction that are rendered incapacitated by tears. Somehow, I managed to hold the tears away, to firm myself up, and was about to stand and make a swift exit from the grounds when there was yet another rustling amongst the rainbow-colored flowers. Despite myself, I turned, and saw the Duke walking confidently toward me.
My heart gave a skip, leap, jump within my chest. I forced myself to retake my seat, lest it appear that I was eager to see him, which I was, but which would be silly to show him. He looked around and, upon seeing me, smiled at strolled over to the bench on which I sat.
“My lady,” he said. “May I sit?”