Chapter Twelve

Sophie sat at the breakfast table alone with Harlow and tried not to draw attention to herself, which was not an easy accomplishment after her escapades with Holland the night before.

The memory of his touch sent a thrill of delight and longing through her. She wanted him to touch, kiss, and whisper wicked, naughty things in her ear.

His reaction to their desire last evening was almost as na?ve as hers in a lot of ways. A realization that went against everything that she knew of the duke. He was Holland: a rakehell, a man who, over the years, had many lovers. The papers said it was so, not to mention gossip. But the image did not make sense to her. Not after he found release without her even touching his person.

Did he genuinely desire her so much that such a thing could happen to a man?

"The duke asked Kemsley last evening to picnic with you today on the grounds. Is this what you would like to do?" Harlow asked, dabbing her lips with her napkin before laying it on the table.

A footman cleared away the countess's breakfast before pouring her a fresh cup of tea.

Sophie cleared her throat, choosing her words wisely. If she appeared too keen, Harlow would sense something had changed between them and could be cautious. "I would like to have a picnic with His Grace. He's been attentive, and I get along well with the duke. If you think it would be suitable, I would like to spend more time with him, away from the gossiping ton and prying eyes."

Harlow leaned back in her chair and studied her a moment. "I do not mind Holland picnicking with you. It is a way for you both to court and decide if you're a match." She paused. "Kemsley is away this afternoon, so he will not intrude on your luncheon with the duke with idle chatter about horses or politics, so the timing is perfect in that regard. But what about a chaperone? Do you wish for me to sit outside with you both, or would you prefer a maid?"

Sophie wondered how she would say what she was about to. "Do you think it would be at all possible for us not to have a chaperone? Surely having a picnic in the gardens is not so very scandalous. No one will see us and know that we're somewhat alone on the grounds other than yourself. I think it would be difficult to be as honest as we would be should someone be hovering nearby, especially a servant." Sophie crossed her fingers under the table and hoped that her cousin, who had not been so innocent herself when Kemsley courted her, would see the logic in her words.

"Hmm," Harlow hedged. "The duke is renowned for being a buck. I'm not certain that it is safe for you to be alone with him."

Sophie shook her head. The duke was no less innocent than she was herself, even if that were not a decision she had chosen for herself. But, like it or not, she was no longer a maid and did not need a chaperone for something she could not lose again.

"Harlow, I love you dearly, as well you know, but I also know you were not so discreet when Kemsley was courting you. Please give me this afternoon with the duke. I shall not cause a scandal, and we will be but talking in the pavilion. Nothing will happen," she stated, hoping that were true.

She would try to behave herself and not fall under his charms that he had so very many of. A kiss or two would not hurt anyone, especially the ton if they did not ever find out about it.

"I should not allow it. Your mama would scold me should she discover I permitted such a visit, but I do see your point and will allow your request this time. I suppose it is no different should he have taken you on a carriage ride into the country."

Sophie smiled, unable to hide her relief at having this time with the duke to herself. "Thank you, Harlow. You are too wonderful for words. I promise we shall eat, talk, and not much else."

Harlow raised her brow at her words. "I know it is often difficult with these great handsome men not to give way to passions, but I do not want to see you get hurt, Sophie. That is my only concern. He has not offered his hand, and therefore there is a chance he will not. Do not give him all of yourself without being certain he is the man for you. The man you want to marry and spend the rest of your life with."

Sophie took in Harlow's words. All valid points and many she had thought herself these past days together. But there was something about the duke that was different. He was honest, and she was confident he would not lead her amiss. And if he did, he would do right by her.

"I will not do anything I'm uncomfortable with, Harlow. I promise you."

***

The duke arrived at precisely one o'clock in the afternoon. Sophie met him in the foyer, and after greeting Harlow, she escorted him out of the house through the back parlor doors and toward the pavilion where they would break their fast.

As agreed, no servant followed them out onto the lawns, and for several minutes they strolled the Kemsley gardens, taking in the large trees and breathing deep the sweet perfumes the gardens afforded them at this time of year. The pretty pavilion and its privacy in the distance lured them with every step.

"I see we're all set for our picnic," the duke said, slipping his fingers about hers and holding her hand as they viewed the table setting Sophie had overlooked earlier.

The innocence and sweetness of his gesture made hope well within her. He was so sweet that even now, he tempted her to tilt her head up toward his and let him kiss her senselessly.

"I hope you like what I've done. I've overseen it myself," she admitted.

They slowly made their way closer. The pavilion was a circular building, but only the front was open to the elements, giving a view of the pond and gardens.

A daybed, a small, circular table that could seat four persons, and a small fireplace encompassed the room. Their lunch sat under silver dish covers, keeping their fare warm. A bottle of champagne sat chilling in an ice bucket beside the table.

Sophie marveled at the pretty picture the picnic made and would ensure she thanked Harlow for allowing her to enjoy her time with the duke when she saw her next.

"Shall we sit? It looks wonderful," Like the gentleman Henry was, he pulled out her chair and helped her to sit, his eyes never leaving hers as he went around the table and found his seat.

Heat kissed her cheeks at the determination and hunger that burned in his brown eyes. She fought to still her beating heart lest he hear what he did to her. "Shall we have a drink?" Sophie reached for the bottle, nerves getting the better of her.

He waved her hand aside, picking up the bottle himself. "Allow me." He poured them both a glass in the crystal goblets, and Sophie took a fortifying sip. Why she felt shy and out of sorts made little sense. They were friends, had kissed, and more than that. There was no reason why she should be so discombobulated.

Unless you care for him and his affection far more than you thought ...

All true, she supposed. She did care for him and his opinions. One reason why he could never find out what had happened to her in Highclere. He would think poorly of her, think her a slattern out to fool him. The thought dulled a little of her excitement for the afternoon.

"I see we're quite alone today." Holland glanced out into the gardens, a small, playful smile on his lips. "Is this by design, or are we just fortunate that it is so?"

"I asked Harlow for us to be unchaperoned. Considering we're in the gardens, I did not consider that scandalous. She agreed after a healthy debate, so long as we act respectably."

He pursed his lips, sipping his wine. The cheeky smile he bestowed afterward sent butterflies through her belly. "I cannot stop thinking about you, Sophie. You must know that I'm not courting anyone else, and only you populate my every thought."

"In truth?" she replied. "You are all that occupies my thoughts, too."

He stood and came to kneel beside her chair. He clasped her hips, moving her so they could come face-to-face. "Last night at the theater. I should not have taken such liberties. You're innocent, a debutante, and I acted in an ungentlemanlike manner."

She closed her eyes, wishing she were innocent, as he stated. She supposed, in some ways, it was true. She had never had such passion, care, and sweetness before in her life. Her past was haunted by nothing but pain and fear.

But with Henry, their interactions were so different.

"I'm not so na?ve. I do not wish to be innocent with you," she admitted, trying to be as truthful as possible.

"I'll be the judge of that," he said before she lost herself in his kiss.