Royal Regard

Chapter Ten, Part 2

She stared at the walls papered in a navy-and-grey pinstripe, backdrop for the nautical motif she had chosen for her husband and his lifetime of mementos. The ship's wheel from the first vessel Myron had bought himself was far more interesting to her in this moment than it had ever been before.

Wellbridge sat in the armchair, right next to her in front of Myron's desk. Scooting it slightly closer, he regained her attention by handing over the arm-length glove, letting it slide through his fingers as she tugged it away. She had to swallow hard before she could speak again.

"Thank you for the courtesy, Sir. I had wondered where it had gone, since it has no legs to walk away from me at a party." She tried to tease, but she couldn't seem to help her apprehensive delivery.

He showed nothing more than good nature when he replied, "No trouble at all, Lady Huntleigh. I was distraught when I found it had followed me home, certain you might call out a constable when you found it missing." Good nature turned diabolical, however, when he added, "I should so hate to be thought an abductor of ladies' clothing." She gulped and looked over at Wilson, her eyes wide, but apart from a faint façade of inappropriate interest in the duke's person, the useless woman acted like she had no ears.

Until the maid's head shot up when he asked, "May I call you Bella?"

Bella didn't even have to try to look censorious, nor did Wilson. "With no offense intended, Your Gr—Du—Your Grace, I think that inappropriate. I am certain my husband would not approve."

"Of course, Lady Huntleigh. I'm sorry if I've caused you discomfort."

Discomfort was hardly the word for what he was causing, but she was determined to see this meeting through without humiliating herself by begging his favor or giving him reason to hope she would accept his outrageous proposals.

"Of course not, Sir. I am sorry Lord Huntleigh is away. I'm sure you have business to discuss, but he has gone to review his shipyards and will not be returning until a week Saturday."

Bella could have kicked herself. She had not intended to tell him she was alone, nor that she would be for two more weeks. She felt heat rising in her cheeks as he sat forward with his eyebrows raised and that enticing, predatory smile on his face.

"You misunderstand, Lady Huntleigh. I have no pressing business with your husband. I've come purely to return your glove."

Bella found herself wishing, indecently, that he would put it back on as sensuously as he had taken it off. "How I wish it were your stocking I had just removed..." What she wished he would do to the back of her knee. Her mouth started watering again.

"If Lord Huntleigh won't return until Saturday next, might I assume you will be unaccompanied until then? May I offer escort?"

She snapped her mouth closed, swallowing hard and clenching her teeth until she could speak without her voice shaking.

"Certainly not. I thank you for the invitation, but I only rarely attend entertainments without Lord Huntleigh. But for the Pinnester's rout, I will be here at home with Ivanhoe, preparing the house for Lord Huntleigh's return."

She couldn't seem to keep from telling him more than she should. Now she wished she hadn't brought up the Pinnesters' party, sure he would try to insist on his services as escort. Before he could, she added, "I will attend with Lord and Lady Firthley at my husband's direction."

He shrugged off her refusal, "Of course. I understand," but continued, "Ivanhoe is a wonderful novel. I quite enjoy allegorical and satirical fiction—more entertaining than political treatises or historical biographies. Are you far enough along we might discuss the subtext, or will I give away the plot?"