A Duke to Die for: The Rogues' Dynasty (14 page)

Could he be afraid of heights, as Mrs. Simple had talked about? Surely not. The duke was much too self-confident for that, but what was the matter? She grabbed his upper arm and forced him to turn around and face the inside of the basket.

“Look at me, Your Grace,” she whispered, but realized the wind took her words away. She squeezed his arm and gave him a little shake. “Look into my eyes, Your Grace,” she said in a stronger voice and then quickly glanced back to see if anyone had heard her. Thankfully, they were all otherwise engaged.

“Don’t look out or down. Just look at me. That’s right,” she said in a softer voice.

His gaze caught hers, and he blinked rapidly. His breaths were shallow and fast.

“Henrietta,” he whispered, and ran his hand through his tousled hair.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath and smiled at him. “Are you feeling better now?”

He nodded. His breathing slowed and color slowly returned to his face.

“Your Grace, I was so worried about you. What happened? Did you feel faint or dizzy?”

He shook his head as if to clear it and raked his hand through his hair again. “Damnation,” he cursed softly under his breath. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I don’t know what happened or why, but when I looked down, I suddenly felt as if I was going to fall out of the basket, and I couldn’t stop myself.”

Breathing easier now that he was back to himself, she let go of his arms and, with a teasing smile, said, “I think you would have fallen out if I had not been here to take hold of you.”

He cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders, and grinned at her. “You jest, Henrietta.”

Continuing to give him an easy smile, she said, “I do not, Your Grace. I think I may have just saved your life. And for the second time.”

“Second time?”

“Don‘t forget the salt water and the mushroom.”

“How could I forget that?”

“You can’t. I believe that means you owe me.”

“Don’t be preposterous. I became a little dizzy for a moment.”

“And you were about to fall out of the basket.”

“I was not,” he said not too convincingly. “You want to believe that because of that blasted curse you talk about.”

“The curse is just as real as your fear of heights.”

“But I don’t have a fear of anything, just as there is no curse. It must be the motion of the balloon that bothers me. The same as if I were on a big ship and became seasick.”

“Rubbish. This balloon is floating along as smoothly as a weightless bubble on the air.” She threw her arms wide and let the chilling wind catch her face, tugging strands of hair from beneath her bonnet. “I think this is glorious. Breathtaking. The colors on the horizon are simply beautiful. I don’t think I ever realized just how magnificent the sky is. The sun has risen above the horizon.”

He started to turn around, but she grabbed his arms again and said, “No, no, don’t look out.” She smiled and let go of him. “I’ll do the looking for both of us, and I’ll tell you how beautiful everything is.”

He smiled so warmly at her that Henrietta felt as if her heart melted in her chest.

“All right, courageous lady, I’ll allow you to do that for me, this time.”

At that moment, Henrietta wanted nothing more than to reach up and kiss his lips. She wanted to explore more of the wonderful feelings that she had discovered the night he had kissed her.

“Well, what do you say, Miss Tweed?”

Henrietta spun around. Sir Randolph and Mrs. Simple stood right behind her. She prayed they couldn’t read her thoughts and know that she was just wishing she could kiss the duke.

“Isn’t this the perfect way to travel?”

“Oh, Sir Randolph, I seldom travel, so I can’t speak to that. But I can tell you being up here is enchanting. To be above the trees and to fly with the birds is a heavenly experience.”

“Before we have champagne, I would very much appreciate your opinion. Is there anything about it you don’t like, Miss Tweed?” Mrs. Simple said.

“Perhaps the most disagreeable thing is that it’s very windy and cold,” Henrietta answered honestly. “I don’t think I could stay up here for long.”

“I agree it’s much more pleasant in the summer than late spring.”

“What about you, Blake?” Sir Randolph asked him. “What do you think about it? Are you ready to give your stamp of approval?”

Henrietta looked at him. His color was good, but she could tell he was not completely over whatever spell had gripped him.

“The view is—breathtaking. The colors on the horizon are beautiful. I don’t think I ever realized just how magnificent the sky is at this time of morning,” Blakewell said, using Henrietta’s words to his own advantage.

Sir Randolph harrumphed.

Henrietta gave the duke a mischievous smile, letting him know his secret was safe with her, so he added, “But, Gib, this is not a way I would ever want to travel.”

Ten

Dearest Lucien,

Lord Chesterfield says that: “When one is learning, one
should not think of play; and when one is at play, one should
not think of one’s learning.”

Your loving Grandmother,

Lady Elder

THE CARRIAGE ROLLED TO A STOP IN FRONT OF BLAKE’S town house, but he didn’t move. When his footman opened the door, Blake waved him away. Henrietta slept so peacefully beside him that he was reluctant to wake her.

She hadn’t taken long to fall asleep on the ride back to London. Gibby had slept most of the way, too, after he had lulled Henrietta to sleep with his incessant talk about the charming attributes of Mrs. Beverly Simple, the new Lord Mayor’s political woes, and the financial scandal involving three elderly members of the House of Lords. Henrietta hadn’t even roused when the carriage had stopped to leave Gibby at his house.

Now Blake had to wake her, and he would, but first he wanted to watch her sleeping for a few moments longer. Her black bonnet with ribbed trim perfectly framed her lovely, heart-shaped face and acted as a pillow against the velvet seat cushion, preventing her head from falling onto his shoulder. Wispy strands of shiny, golden blonde hair had escaped her headpiece and lay across her forehead and delicate-looking cheek.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the window of the carriage door and fell across the bottom half of her face, highlighting her beautifully shaped lips. They looked so pink and kissable against the smooth, creamy shade of her skin. She was all wrapped up in her black cape, which hid the definition of her breasts, but he could see the slight rise and fall of her chest beneath her wrap.

He closed his eyes against the sudden remembrance of the balloon ride and his irrational fear of being so high above the trees. The ride in the balloon certainly hadn’t troubled Henrietta, Gibby, or Mrs. Simple and her workers. So why had it bothered him so badly that it left him feeling light-headed? He couldn’t imagine what made him feel so vulnerable once the cords were untied and they had left the ground and floated freely through the air. It was like no other experience he’d ever had.

Blake was not without bravery in his heart. He had once stared without flinching down the barrel of a pistol held by a man who meant to kill him. He had grabbed the reins of a wildly bucking stallion, never fearing he’d be trampled beneath the horse’s hooves. But for some reason, both times he went up in a balloon, that gripping fear of falling took hold of him and would not let go.

This time he might have fallen out of the balloon, had it not been for Henrietta’s quick thinking and forcing him not to look down. Thankfully, she’d been perceptive and had kept the others onboard from knowing. He’d never forget that she had done that for him. The flight had been bearable only because he’d kept his gaze on her and not the ground below or the heavens above.

She looked so beautiful and happy to be floating on the wind and gliding through the clouds that keeping his gaze on her had not been difficult. He had quite enjoyed keeping his attention on no one but Henrietta.

He smiled to himself as he remembered seeing the wonderment in her eyes when Gibby handed her a glass of champagne, and she took her first sip. Her whole face lit up with delight as the bubbles burst on her tongue and she swallowed the cold liquid for the first time.

Blake opened his eyes and looked at her again. Her eyelids twitched and he wondered if she dreamt. And if she did, what did she dream about? Did she dream of a handsome beau, or something else?

What he really wanted was to wake her with a kiss on her beautiful lips, but should he chance it? It might frighten her. What would he do if she screamed and brought the neighbors running?

But what if she just slowly opened her eyes and wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back? He leaned in close to her.

“Henrietta,” he whispered, but his voice was so soft, her slumber so deep, that she didn’t stir at all. That was all the prompting he needed.

Ignoring the warning bells going off in his head, Blake reached over and placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. She stirred a little and made a sighing noise. That made him more courageous. He placed a quick, soft kiss on her lips, and then a longer lingering kiss. She stirred again, her hand coming up to rub her nose, but her eyes didn’t open.

He smiled to himself. He knew it wasn’t fair of him to watch her sleep and steal kisses from her lips without her knowing, but he was enjoying every moment of it. After all, what kind of rogue would he be if he didn’t, from time to time, do a few things beyond the pale?

With no further thought of stopping himself, he kissed the corner of her mouth again and breathed in the warm, womanly scent of her. He slowly moved his lips across her soft, cool cheek and back to her lips again. She made another sighing sound and stirred to the point of raising her arms and stretching them above her head. He wanted to gather her into the fullness of his arms and pull her close. He wanted to feel the soft heat of her yielding body against his, but warning bells went off in his head once more, and he dared not go that far.

Not this time.

Suddenly, Henrietta’s lashes fluttered upward. She saw him leaning over her. At first she smiled at him, but then just as quickly, as if startled, her eyes opened wider. She sat up straight and started rearranging the folds of her cape.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I must have dozed off for a moment,” she said.

There was something especially desirable about a woman just waking from sleep. He wanted her right now, right here in the carriage stopped in front of his house in the middle of the afternoon.

Blake groaned silently. What was wrong with him? That was no way to be thinking about any innocent young lady.

Especially his ward.

“A long moment,” he said, trying to clear his wayward thoughts. “We’re home.”

“Home?” She looked disbelievingly around the cab. “Sir Randolph?”

“We dropped him off at his house not more than ten minutes ago. You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn’t want to wake you to tell him good-bye.”

“I really didn’t mean to be such a bore and sleep all the way home. I do hope that you and Sir Randolph slept as well?”

He grinned. “If it makes you feel any better, yes, Gibby fell asleep not too long after you did. I tried to, but found that I couldn’t rest for all the little snoring sounds you made.”

Henrietta gasped. “Snoring? Me, Your Grace? I do not.”

Blake laughed when he saw the horror in her eyes. He was having such fun teasing her that he didn’t want to stop. “Don’t tell me you are one of those people who think you don’t snore because you stayed awake one night to see if you snored and you didn’t.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up. “Of course not, Your Grace; that’s a ridiculous thing to say. And you are dastardly for even implying such a thing about a lady.”

He laughed again at her umbrage. “Well, pardon me. Perhaps you weren’t making the snoring sounds. Maybe it was Gibby.”

She eyed him warily, finally catching on to his humor. “You are a scoundrel, Your Grace.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You are teasing me, aren’t you? I don’t think you heard snoring noises from either of us.”

Grinning, he said, “You’re right, I didn’t, but you are so easy to tease, it was too appealing not to do it.”

“You are a rake.”

“Sometimes.”

“More often than not would be my guess.”

“Probably.” Blake turned serious as he looked into her beautiful sky-blue eyes and said, “Thank you, Henrietta.”

Her lips parted in surprise at his words and her gaze held his steadily, as if she were searching for answers to an important question. an important question.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For what you did for me when we were up in the balloon this morning.”

“Oh, you mean for saving your life.”

Now it was her turn to tease him.

“I’m not admitting anything,” he said, picking up her gloved hand and giving her fingers a soft squeeze before releasing her. “I had those same feelings the last time I went up in a balloon, and you were not there to save me; yet somehow, I managed to hold on and live to go up another day.”

“All right, I’ll concede for now that I didn’t save your life. However, I think I’ve figured out what bothers you about being up in a balloon.”

“Really? Tell me.”

“I think it’s your lack of control. Being a duke, you have control over so many things, especially concerning your own life. But up there, in the sky, other people are in control and you are completely dependent on them. I’m sure that’s not something you are used to. Perhaps that causes you to have the strange feeling of falling when you are so high up in the balloon.”

He thought about her words for a moment. Could that be his problem? On a horse, in a carriage, or even the few times he’d been on a ship at sea, he had known what he would do, should trouble arise, but high up in the sky in a balloon, he would be powerless to do anything.

“That could be a logical explanation for what happens to me,” he agreed.

“Surely I have no right even to suggest this, but perhaps, if you took lessons and learned how to fly a balloon so that you could be in control, that would clear up your problem.”

The trouble with the idea of learning to operate a balloon was that he had absolutely no desire to do so. The last thing he wanted to do was go back up in a balloon. Ever. And learning how to handle one of the blasted things held no appeal for him. He was happy traveling by coach, horse, or sea. Or, if nothing else was available, he’d just use his feet and legs and walk.

“Perhaps we should plan an outing and go up—“

“Perhaps I should ask you something I was thinking about on the ride back home.”

She moistened her beautiful lips and said, “You want to drop the subject?”

“I do.”

“Very well, we’ll talk about whatever you want.”

“Tell me, what did you think of Mrs. Simple?”

Henrietta gave him a questioning look. “I’m thinking you mean other than that she was lovely, solicitous, and strong-minded.”

“Yes,” he said, not wanting to prompt her any further than necessary. He wanted Henrietta’s true assessment of the woman.

A wrinkle formed between her eyes as she studied what to say. “May I speak forthrightly?”

“That’s what I’m asking of you.”

“I noticed that she was very attentive to Sir Randolph and, while she said and did all the right things to make one think that she adored him, I noticed that her smile didn’t reach her eyes.”

Blake sat back in the cushion. “I think I know what you mean, but perhaps a little more explanation would help me understand your analogy better.”

She smiled at him and his loins tightened. His body always seemed to go crazy when she looked at him with that understanding expression.

“When I was at Lord Brembly’s house in Dorset, he taught me many things. He was a very kind and knowledgeable man. I learned from watching and listening to him as well as from doing the studies he gave me each day. In the summer, his grandchildren would come for visits. I would watch him light up with excitement as they bounded from the carriage and ran to him. His smile and laughter reached all the way to his eyes. But when their stepfather stepped off the coach, the smile stayed on his lips but left his eyes.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes. I asked him about this one day. He praised me for being perceptive and then told me that his love for his grandchildren was genuine, but not so for his daughter’s second husband. He said his smile didn’t reach his eyes because the smile wasn’t true.”

Blake nodded. “I can see the validity in what Lord Brembly said. And I felt the same way you did about Mrs. Simple. I sensed she was putting on an act with her flattery of Gibby.”

“Something tells me that you don’t think Sir Randolph saw what we saw.”

“I’m fairly sure he didn’t, but whether that’s because he doesn’t want to see it or he
can’t
see it, I’m not certain.”

“Are you trying to decide if you should tell him of your suspicions? That her attentiveness seems false and forced?”

“Yes. She’s wooing him because she wants him to invest in her balloon business. I think the idea is downright madness.”

“So that’s what you meant earlier about a balloon venture.”

He nodded. “I’m trying to figure out if she’s trying to get money from him and then disappear, or if she’s actually foolish enough to think she can open a travel business.” Blake smiled at her. “Thank you for your insight and Lord Brembly’s as well. Come on, we better go inside.”

He opened the carriage door, jumped down, and reached back for her. Ignoring her hand, he grabbed her waist and helped her down. He knew it was devilishly improper. That was one of the many reasons the gossip pages occasionally referred to him as the ‘devilish duke.’ Helping a lady exit a carriage by circling her waist was far more exciting than merely holding her gloved hand while she stepped down.

“Your Grace,” she said as they walked toward the front door, “thank you for the most wonderful day I have ever had—and a day I shall never forget.”