Chapter 11

"Ignore them," the Duke advised as they proceeded together down one of the principal walkways at Hyde Park. "That's what I have always done with gossips and gawpers. They will get tired of it soon enough."

"That advice is easier spoken than taken," Dorothy replied, taking a deep breath and attempting nonetheless to ignore the staring presence of various members of the ton on the path and in the park around them. "I'm still not convinced that this is the best idea."

It was also easier for a man of the Duke's size, position, and wealth to follow than for an unmarried young woman. It would take someone of rare foolhardiness or foolishness to be prepared to cross her future husband, either physically or in the courts.

That latter thought was some comfort to her as was the reflection that the reactions they were arousing might also be mere curiosity, now that their betrothal was common knowledge, rather than the censure or insulting speculation she had encountered the last time she had been in the park.

"… in the street! I heard that she…"

The audible whisper of a black-haired lady in a fashionable cream walking suit interrupted Dorothy's comforting thoughts, reddening her face and making her hand tighten involuntarily on the arm of her companion. Two other ladies and a gentleman stood with the gossiper on the grass close to the path, regarding Dorothy and the Duke keenly.

"Lady Cowdray," the Duke said pointedly, his voice slightly too loud, as he raised his hat in an exaggerated gesture of politeness. "Did you have something to say to me?"

"Your Grace," the woman stuttered, startled by this sudden attention and bobbing a small curtsey to cover her discomposure. "Only my congratulations, of course, to you and Miss Hoskins…"

Her companions had melted away swiftly into the background.

"How is Lord Cowdray?" the Duke asked, cutting across her insincere felicitations. "Still in Scotland on business, I hear."

"Yes, Your Grace. I hope he will be joining me in July."

"Let us all hope so," he replied, a smile playing on his lips. "Do give him my regards. I trust I will see him when he comes to London…"

Dorothy detected some alarm on the woman's face that seemed unwarranted by this unthreatening exchange of words. With a nod of farewell that was somehow as silently sarcastic as his greeting had been, the Duke walked on, Dorothy at his side and now smiling despite herself.

"Lady Cowdray would do well to remember that half of London knows that she keeps company with Lord Gordonham in her husband's absence," he commented drily. "The majority of the ton are equally happy hypocrites, Miss Hoskins. Their judgment of us is as questionable as laughable."

"Surely ‘majority' is an overstatement, Your Grace," Dorothy said, raising an eyebrow at this claim.

"You have led a sheltered life, Miss Hoskins." He smiled at her before indicating a thin, red-haired man across the path. "Sir James Wesbury is a serial adulterer. You see that woman in blue? Mrs. Smythe is a notorious drunkard. Those dandies on horseback approaching us? Both treated for venereal disease last year. Lord Roberson by that tree? Defrauded three acquaintances of thousands of pounds for a fake investment…"

Dorothy laughed aloud in mingled surprise and amusement at these stories, unsure whether to believe him or not.

"Really? Do you not hold anyone in high regard, Your Grace?" she asked.

"Very few," he told her. "My regard must be earned, and my standards are high, for myself and others. I choose my company carefully, and I cannot brook dishonesty and lack of fundamental principles. That may seem severe to you."

"No. I tend to agree, although you have had more freedom in the company you choose to keep than I. Young ladies in our society are forced to suffer blackguards, hypocrites and fools, gladly or not."

As she spoke, Dorothy glanced back at her brother, who was strolling alone some distance behind them. She was glad he was far enough away that she could no longer make out the gloating pleasure on his face from parading his sister and her fiancé before the world. He was like an unpleasant schoolboy showing off an outsize boat to other children at the boating pond.

"We could walk faster again, if you wish," the tall, dark-haired man at her side offered, his lips twitching in a smile that showed he had followed her train of thought. "I'm sure you see quite enough of Patrick at home."

"I do," Dorothy confirmed, letting his long strides hurry them along the pathway, further away from her brother.

"Is that sufficient? I can always increase the distance further. Especially after we marry…"

The twinkle in the Duke's eyes as he spoke made her laugh again, and she had to admit that despite her initial misgivings about going on such a public walk with him, she was actually now enjoying his company. He could be funny and charming when he chose, and his handsome features were certainly easy on the eye.

Still, some deep reservations lingered, not so easily dispelled by a performance of civility and good humor, and perhaps even sharpened by them.

In fact, the Duke had been peculiarly solicitous since their betrothal was confirmed, although Dorothy observed that he could still be cutting and rude toward Patrick. As for Lord Prouton, he seemed to regard him as Dorothy did—a spent force, now entirely under his son's influence.

She could hardly criticize him for his kindness, but each thoughtful gesture still roused her wariness. Why was he doing any of this? How far could she trust what she was seeing? Under the circumstances, it was hardly as though he needed to persuade her to marry him.

In their first meetings, the Duke had seemed barely able to stand her company. Yet, his kisses then gave her the sense that he could not get enough of her. So, what exactly did he mean by any of it? Dorothy wished she knew.

She turned her head to the Duke again, intending to raise these contradictions.

"There is something about you that puzzles me, Your Grace," she began and then hesitated as he pinned her with deep blue eyes that made it hard to put questions into words.

The Duke looked at her quizzically but then smiled once more and continued their progress through the park.

"You do not like me," he observed without apparent offense. "Or at least, you believe you do not like me. Is that what is on your mind, Miss Hoskins?"

"You cannot deny that you have been ill-mannered and insulting in your conversations with me," Dorothy argued, unable to refute his statement.

The Duke laughed softly to himself. "Perhaps, but you must understand that I thought you just another straightforward fortune-hunter, obeying the orders of your elders to seduce and ensnare me. Can you imagine how that feels, Miss Hoskins? To be hunted by packs of young ladies and their devious mamas whenever you go out in Society?"

"I imagine it feels as uncomfortable as being made into an object for display at every social event, to be sold by one's family to the highest bidder," she suggested tartly, not yet ready to give him sympathy or forgive his insults.

At this, he only laughed again, with an easy shrug of his shoulders.

"You may be right, Miss Hoskins, but remember that I've had a decade of it, while you are only in your second Season. I was sick to death of being preyed upon, and I lost my patience with those who hunted me. Then, I refused to play the game of being hunted any longer. When I spoke bluntly, that was the cause and the motivation."

"Then why are you being so courteous with me now?" Dorothy questioned with bewilderment. "My family has indeed trapped you, and yet you have been kind and respectful toward me ever since you proposed. You have called on me each day, insisted on hearing my views above my brother's, and negotiated a marriage contract that gives me great autonomy. You even sent me flowers!"

"You liked them?" the Duke asked. "I did not know whether you would prefer red, pink or yellow roses, so I sent all three."

"I did like them," Dorothy admitted with a wary smile. "One of our maids suggested putting the roses in my bedroom. Patrick wanted them on display downstairs to show off to other guests…"

"Likely still with my card attached," the Duke commented quietly, making her laugh without interrupting her flow.

"But I sided with Annie, and now I have the roses all to myself."

"Good," he said with a nod. "I sent a note to Miss Baines via one of our maids to let her know that was what I would wish."

"Miss Baines? Ah, Annie Baines…" Dorothy realized and then laughed again. "You have a spy in our household, Your Grace!"

"A friend," he demurred. "An excellent young woman and a friend to both of us."

"What did Annie say about me to you?" Dorothy asked then, and the Duke hesitated before answering, making her wonder if she had been right to call Annie a spy.

"It would be indelicate to ever ask such a question of Miss Baines, and I would not dream of compromising her loyalty to her new employers, especially to you, Miss Hoskins. Suggestions for the placement of my flowers are one thing, and intelligence on your family is another entirely. However, of her own accord, Miss Baines did confirm one thing about you that I already knew myself."

Dorothy looked expectantly at the Duke, having no idea what he could be talking about.

"I know that you are no fortune hunter, Miss Hoskins," he clarified. "You have played no active part in your brother's vulgar, short-sighted scheming. You are simply a young woman trapped by her circumstances, a situation with which I can heartily empathize."

"Ah," Dorothy murmured, pleasantly surprised by this admission that he did not hold her responsible but also unnerved once more by his apparent regard. "Yes, I did not hunt you, Your Grace. Things just somehow… happened. But tell me, why should it matter where your roses were placed?"

"I bought them for you, not to bolster your brother's self-importance," he answered, glancing back again at the distant figure of Patrick. "I wanted you to have something from me in your bedroom, something that pleases you and keeps me in your thoughts."

"Oh," Dorothy said, blushing at this idea, although she didn't quite know why.

He had said nothing indecent, but still, those words sent a tingling thrill through her body, like an echo of the feelings she experienced each time they had kissed. First out in the street, then again in her garden, and several more times in the days since their betrothal, the Duke seemed to have no compunction in drawing her behind doors or trees to steal brief kisses without warning.

"I know you have very little time to accustom yourself to the idea of becoming my wife," the Duke continued gently. "I know that you would prefer not to be in this situation. But we must marry, and I would prefer that you did not find the prospect entirely an unhappy one."

"Is that also why you kiss me?" Dorothy asked. "To distract me from our unwanted marriage?"

"I kiss you because you demand to be kissed," the Duke said, his gloved hand squeezing hers briefly where it lay on his arm. "Your eyes demand it, your lips demand it, your voice demands it even when the words you speak to me are insults."

His voice was soft and caressive, for her ears only rather than those passing them on the path. Dorothy was conscious that her breathing was growing faster now and that it was no longer hard to ignore everyone else in the park.

"It is also because you want to kiss me," she pointed out, thinking of the way he sometimes looked at her and seeing the same hungry expression on his face now.

"I want to do so much more than kiss you, Dorothy," the Duke admitted in a very low voice, this very first use of her Christian name lending his voice a further level of intimacy. "I hope you will think about that as you look at my roses in your bedroom tonight."

More than kissing? Legs trembling and imagination chasing itself in circles, she was unable to give any sensible response. Thankfully, he didn't seem to expect one, or maybe his searching gaze found it somewhere in her eyes.

Dorothy let herself lean into the size and strength of the man at her side, soon to be her husband. Whatever he might intend, she would have no other choice than to trust him.

In her bed that night, Dorothy lay half-awake in the darkness for some time, floating on the scent of roses all around her and the memory of her latest conversation with the Duke of Dawford in the park.

Their time together that day had not banished all her fears, resentments and irritations, but it had made them seem smaller and less important alongside the ever-growing intensity of the longing surging in her veins.

I want to do so much more than kiss you…

On these words, she finally drifted off to sleep and troubling dreams she could not fully recall the next day, only knowing that they had certainly involved the Duke's lips on hers.