She glanced away breaking that contact, and he drew in a harsh breath at the loss of it. And without answering him, she walked away from him, every line in her body still in evident denial of the cravings stirring in her heart and body for him.
Her mother appeared shocked at her daughter’s abrupt actions, and made apologies then bid him a good day as she hurried after Miss Cavanaugh.
Chapter 11
A soft rain pattered against the windows of the countess's drawing room. The slight rain had been unexpected and had halted the walk into town Pippa had promised Miranda who wanted to order hats and laces. The plan had been to visit a tea shop afterward for refreshment, or Gunter’s for an ice. Instead of the outing, they were ensconced in the drawing room, a merry fire crackling in the hearth. Pippa was reading the serial Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens, which was the current rage and quite deserving of its popularity. The writing was evocative and painted a very vivid picture of the injustices of England, yet Pippa’s attention was torn from the riveting words. She did not believe in such nonsense like magic, but if someone offered a potion with the promise it would allow her to stop thinking of a certain duke, she would consume it with
in a blink.
It had been a week since the outing to Croydon where she had fled from the temptation of the duke. He had flirted, he had teased, and she hadn’t known how to handle it, so she had run from the beautiful temptation of it all. She liked him far too much. In his gaze there had been a simmering heat, a promise of wicked lusts, and everything inside of her had craved to respond.
I cannot help wanting to woo you.
She drew in a hard, deep breath. Such ridiculous nonsense, and very similar to words Mr. Nigel Williamsfield had said to Pippa on so many occasions with earnest adoration and flattery. Except, the duke hadn't been artful. She’d only sensed raw honesty. Also, I would be foolish to believe, and Pippa accepted she must be a damn fool, for she felt the duke wanted her. Every stare had communicated his desire and admiration. Her heart begged her logical mind to take the duke's hand and go on the adventure he invited. Even if only once.
Miranda lowered the fashion magazine she had been reading. “I am terribly excited about tonight’s masquerade ball. Lord Aaron has been paying me the loveliest compliments, and I daresay I find him quite charming," she said with a tinkling laugh.
Pippa frowned. “Lord Aaron? I thought he had a tendre for Miss Elisabeth Fairfax.” At least that is what she had written some weeks ago as Lady W, and the couple’s popularity within the ton had soared, and everyone had celebrated the match.
Miranda arched an elegant brow. “Everyone thought the earl would have offered for Miss Fairfax because of her dowry. It is rumored to be one hundred thousand pounds and a villa in the south side of France. Why everyone knows that is the only reason she had so many beaux this season. She is rather plain faced and coarse in her manners.”
“I think her charming and quite elegant in her manners,” Pippa rebutted. Not at all pleased with Miranda’s disparaging words.
Miranda sniffed. "You are far too careless in your compliments, but that is expected with the company you've been keeping."
They stared at each other across the expanse of the drawing room. “And what company is that?” Pippa said softly.
“Carlyle!” Miranda snapped, her eyes flashing with a good deal of ire.
Hearing the name startled Pippa, for this was the first time in weeks Miranda spoke of the duke. After Pippa had seen his genuine shock at her accusation of his debauchery, and his earnest offer to call upon her mother after kissing her, she had attempted to speak of him to Miranda to clarify what had happened between the two. But Miranda had decline to have any discourse about the man.
“I’ve warned you of his odious—”
“The duke did not seduce you,” Pippa whispered, gently closing Oliver Twist.
With a gasp, Miranda surged to her feet. “Why ever would you say this now,” she said, her eyes darting to the closed door of the drawing room.
“The countess and mamma have gone for an early morning ride in the park, and I am certain they have sought shelter from the rain. We shan’t be disturbed.”
Miranda huffed. "I do not wish to speak of it. That is the past, and I do not wish to recall the humiliation of it all."
Pippa considered her friend and everything she had been learning of the duke. He was undoubtedly wicked in the manner he had stolen kisses, more than kisses, for he had compromised her heart. If Pippa was honest, most days she wanted to fall at the altar of his debauchery, and she could not blame him for her weakness in wanting his sensual adventures. However, he hadn't made any false promises, nor had he attempted to force her or even seduce her.
Why then would he have tried to seduce Miranda? She was not worldly, and far too innocent for the duke. “I despised the duke because of what he did to you. I’ve spoken to him…on a few occasions…”
“Then the rumors are true?”
“I am not sure what the gossips are saying.” Pippa had ignored reading tattles except the ones she contributed. “I am saying, I have formed my own idea of the duke, and it does not match with your account,” she said gently.
A flush rose in Miranda’s cheek. “And what is your opinion?”
Pippa braced herself. "He does not seem to be the sort of man who would behave with such rank dishonor. I've seen a great kindness and consideration of others in him."
Miranda’s lips curved in a sneer. “You are hardly the best judge of a man’s character. If you had been, surely you would have been more discerning of Nigel!”
Pippa gasped, and regret lined Miranda’s face.
"Oh Pippa, I am ghastly. Forgive me." She took a deep breath. "It is always difficult to think of the duke…to speak of him."