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“It is the husband’s duty to defend you.”

“Yes, and if he is not there, I would like to be able to accomplish the task myself instead of crying prettily or swooning. I can fence and box rather well.”

She felt the touch of his eyes on her, but he made no comment at that.

“You speak of comfort and honesty; what about love?”

Her lips parted with her surprise. “What do you know of love?”

He gave her a burning look of reproach. “You think me an unfeeling ogre?”

“No.” She thought about it. “I never thought you a romantic, but I suppose to be a rake one had to convince all those ladies they were loved in some manner. Why else would they so easily relinquish their virtue to your glib tongue and fingers?”

The marquess laughed. They entered the park and rode past a queue of landaus and barouches. There were already several fashionable ladies and gentlemen about, doing their daily promenade and exercise. They trotted lightly along a path for a few minutes in companionable silence. At one point, they urged their horses into a gallop, and Frederica wished she was able to wear breeches and ride astride as her brother had taught her.

The marquess slowed his horse, and she followed suit.

“Are you now confident of your gentleman’s affection?”

Her heart pounded an exhilarating tempo as she answered. “I am not. I admitted when we danced, he looked at me in a manner he had never done before, but there was still a lot of reserve in his eyes. It would be imprudent of me to assume that it now means he is taken with me.”

“He sent you flowers,” the marquess pointed out.

Frederica smiled noncommittally. “That cannot be viewed with any serious consideration.”

“I saw myrtle amongst the blooms.”

She laughed. “A rake who knows the language of flowers. I confess I am not truly surprised. How many flowers have you sent to your fawning lady loves?”

The lazy sensuality in the smile he gave her had Frederica quickly looking away. That he could so easily steal her breath and set her heart racing was a bit infuriating, especially when she remained unsure she affected him in similar regard.

“What about your…feelings, Sprite? Have they gotten any deeper?”

He sounded perfectly blank; however, instinct warned her it was a carefully contrived indifference.

“Oh, yes, they have grown alarmingly deeper.”

He sent her a scowl, and she smiled sweetly at him. “I do believe I need more delicate points on flirting. How do I entice him to kiss me?”

Percy’s gloved hand tightened on his reins before his chest lifted on a silent sigh, and she saw him force his fingers open.

How extraordinary and wonderful.

“No kissing as yet,” he said in that dangerous tone of his.

“Why not?”

“Half of the pleasure is in the anticipation of waiting.”

Those provocative words struck her low in her belly, and unexpectedly she felt heated all over. Frederica did understand the pleasure in craving for more of his kisses and touch. It was a bitter-sweet feeling and one she was not certain she liked. “I was always the impatient sort. I believe a lesson on kissing from a man of your skill would be rather incredible.”

“I suspect your affection for your beau to be not so genuine, given your eagerness to kiss me,” he said coolly. “Are you so fickle woman?”

“How astonishingly hypocritical,” she drawled. “A man is free to kiss whomever he pleases even if he is engaged. In truth, he might even continue to kiss elsewhere after he is married. Which I will have you know I will not tolerate in my own marriage. This fool does not even know I greatly admire him and would squeal with joy to receive an offer from him. Why should he own my kisses from now?”

The marquess stared at her with an enigmatic gaze. “Why indeed,” he murmured, that gaze touching on her mouth.

When their gaze met, the burn of desire in his eyes set her heart to beat a fierce rhythm. Good heavens!


Tags: Alyssa Clarke Historical