“I dare,” she replied.
Chapter 8
Mari tucked her worn boots out of sight under her skirts. The duke settled across from her, propping one of his elbows on the arm of the chair, which did interesting things to the bulging muscles beneath his shirt.
Why had she decided to stay? He’d given her every opportunity to retreat, but then he’d dared her to stay. Her reckless side had responded to the challenge, though she’d rationalized her decision by saying it was because she wanted to know more about the children’s past.
Which she did, but she also wanted to know more about Banksford. What had painted all of those shadows in his eyes?
A footman banked the fire. Another fluffed the cushions on the settee and trimmed the lamps. They moved soundlessly, seeing to his every comfort.
What must it be like to have all your desires fulfilled before you even knew what they were?
Yet another footman positioned a silver platter heaped with glistening fruit and sweetmeats on a table between their chairs. Taking up a pair of silver tongs and a small plate, the footman waited expectantly.
“Would you care for some fruit, Miss Perkins?” asked the duke.
Mari recognized a cluster of dark purple grapes and some strawberries, but the rest of it was a mystery. What were those yellow triangles with pockmarks in them? They looked rather stringy.
“I’ll have some grapes, Your Grace,” she said, making a safe choice.
The footman served her a cluster of grapes.
She’d never eaten grapes before. She mustn’t betray her lack of gustatory experience with a telltaleoohof astonishment.
The dark purple fruit burst under the assault of her teeth, flooding her mouth with sweetness. There was almost a hint of violet. The way violets smelled. Something musky and perfumed.
The seeds were slightly bitter, but easily swallowed. She ate another. And then another.
She could become accustomed to being served grapes like the ancient Romans.
Only, if they were ancient Romans, she and the duke would be lounging about on the carpet, half naked.
Good gracious.What manner of thought was that to have?
A forbidden thought, that’s what.
She glanced at him from under her lashes. His lips were perfectly shaped for... grape eating. Firm and well defined on top, and flared below.
The duke cleared his throat.
She hauled her attention back to modern-day England, where she was a superior governess and he was a duke and they would never, ever roll on the carpet together.
“You said you had a long and disappointing day, Your Grace?” she asked.
“I had an interview with an old friend of mine, the Duke of Westbury, who doesn’t want to allow the proposed railway to pass through his estate. Many noblemen oppose the railway. I’m to give a speech at my club on the subject.”
“Have you written the speech?”
He drew a sheet of crumpled paper from inside his coat and threw it onto the table. “I’ve attempted to.”
Mari wiped her fingers on a serviette and lifted the ball of his speech, smoothing it out on her lap. “May I?”
“By all means. I’ve rewritten it three or four times but there’s something lacking. Are you an author, Miss Perkins?”
“I, Your Grace? No. I’m a teacher. More skilled at editing others’ compositions than writing my own. Everyone can use a good editor.”
He waved a hand at the speech. “Be my guest.”