She would have kissed him back. And would probably have allowed him to bear her to the ground and ravish her most thoroughly. Flushing, she looked away from him, gripping the book to her chest like a protective shield. It did not work; her heart still stretched toward him as it ached for impossible things.
Sarah would have far preferred to be indifferent to his charms.
Chapter 9
Robert stood by the windows in the library, watching the sleeting rain. The weather had taken an unexpected turn, and not even his butler, who swore he had a nose capable of detecting rain, had foreseen this sudden storm. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, shaving off the chill in the room. The door opened, but he did not turn around, sensing that only Esther would enter without knocking.
“The girls are taking a nap after drinking two cups of hot chocolate,” she said fondly. “They implored me to remind you that you will be dining again with them tonight.”
Robert smiled. “I won’t forget it.”
“You have dined with the children frequently of late.” There was a high note of query in her tone.
Not only the children but also Sarah Bellamy. He had even joined in the stories she told with such great animation and joy. “You should join us sometime, Esther,” he invited.
“Perhaps I shall. You rode out with Miss Anna this morning. Are you close to making an offer?”
How brightly hopeful his sister sounded, and he confessed the very thing he had stood there thinking about while the rain pelted down, “I do not believe I will be making an offer.”
His sister gasped and hurried over to stand beside him. “Whyever not? She is so lovely and perfect. You would be very lucky to have her as your duchess!”
“She is very amiable and charming,” he said gruffly.
“Andbeautiful,” Esther stated out as if that was the most important point. “She will make an exemplary hostess.”
“There is that.” Robert frowned. “She does not inspire me to feel or laugh or want to run along the lawns with the girls playing with their kites.”
He could sense his sister’s astonishment.
“I never knew you were the feeling sort,” she said faintly. “Forgive me, but over the years, you have remained a very haughty and distant duke. Nor did you seem the romantic fellow with your previous duchess, and I daresay you were happy.”
“Perhaps I was contented because I did not know there could be more,” he murmured. He had seen more, felt it, touched it, and tasted it.
“Well,” Esther said, “We do know happiness in marriage is merely chance.”
“Do we, Esther? I believe it to be a choice. We choose to marry someone who makes our hearts damn hunger to live beyond duty and expectation.”
Her expression softened, and he gathered she thought about the gentleman who was quite determined to woo her.
“Do you have someone else in mind, Robert? For the life of me, I cannot see who is more suitable than Miss Anna. Though her father is only a viscount, he is well respected in the House of Lords and has the Prince Regent's ear. She is a social match for you.”
A movement in the tree line arrested his attention, and he took a step closer to the glass.
“What in the world?” Esther said. “Why, I do believe it is Miss Bellamy. I only just recalled she had taken a walk into the woods. I gather the rain caught her by surprise.”
Bloody hell. Robert marched away and quickly called for a large umbrella.
“Surely you are not going outside in the deluge,” Esther called. “Please send a servant for her, Robert.”
He damn well was. Sarah was likely to catch a terrible chill from being exposed for so long. The lady liked to take long walks, a pastime his children were also developing a great appreciation for. Sometimes she wandered for a good distance before returning to the country house. He could only imagine how long she had been in the rain. Taking the umbrella from a footman, he launched through the door the butler held open and made his way to Sarah.
* * *
A dark figuresuddenly loomed before Sarah, startling a soft cry from her. Relief filled her to see that it was the duke. She was a sodden mess, her clothes waterlogged, the hem of her dress caked with mud. There was no doubt in her mind that she must look like a drowning cat. A large black umbrella unexpectedly came over her head. “I fear it is a bit too late,” she said, her teeth chattering.
He took her by the hand and drew her forward.
“Good God, your hands are like ice. Where are your gloves.”