A Duke of Her Own(51)

"Leopold," he said.

She wasn't listening because she was burning, breathless. "Leopold," he growled.

She turned her mouth, wanting more of him, not words.

"You are a surprise," he said a moment later, pulling back again.

Men never wanted to kiss as long as she did, she thought, and then pulled herself together. "A surprise?"

Instinctively she knew instantly that she had to— must—cover up the extent to which she was unable to think because of this craving. For him. For this man who was looking at her with absolute self-possession, pulling his hair back and swiftly retying its ribbon. Apparently the duke didn't tolerate being unkempt for long.

She managed a shrug. "Because I enjoy your kisses? Since you imply that every woman falls prey to the ducal title, how do you know that I'm not belatedly captivated simply by your crest?"

"Are you? After all... I am the second duke with whom you've cavorted, if we count Astley. And I think we must count Astley, mustn't we?"

There was just the subtlest insinuation to his voice. "I was in love with Gideon," she said, not bothering to try to fix her own hair. It was probably a mess, but she refused to care. Instead she picked up the anisette, but it tasted sickly sweet now, and she put it down after it had barely touched her tongue. "I suspect that I loved him more than you loved Bess."

"I can't imagine how we would determine such a thing," Villiers—no, Leopold— said.

"I wanted to marry him," she confessed. "I thought we would marry."

"So I surmised. Since I can't imagine that Astley chose his languid wife over you, I gather that fate intervened."

The pleasure of that compliment warmed her. "Fate in the form of his father's will."

"I expect you did love him more than I loved Bess, then," Leopold said. "For I never thought to marry her. I was infatuated with her laugh. She had a wonderful chuckle. I wanted all her laughter for myself."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought that most young men felt possessive about other attributes of bonny Bess."

"Oh, I wanted those too," he said wryly.

"You mean you didn't—" She stopped.

"Elijah intervened before my adoration of Bess could lead me to convince myself that I should offer her money," Leopold said. "I'm afraid that I merely stood about the inn adoring her, and never thought about money until it was too late."

"Oh."

"Elijah, of course, didn't need to offer money because he was so very pretty."

He would hate sympathy, but she felt a flash of it anyway, followed by a wave of rage at stupid Bess for following the luscious Duke of Beaumont wherever he willed her. Presumably to Beaumont's bed.

"I must take another look at Beaumont in the future. I'm afraid that I always dismissed him—he has that tiresome puritanical look—but now that I know he stole your barmaid's attentions..."

He laughed, and Eleanor liked the sound. "Your problem is not choosing between myself and Beaumont, but choosing between myself and young Roland."



"And yours," she countered, "has nothing to do with a barmaid. Instead you are faced by two nubile daughters of dukes."

"You think I should consider Lisette?"

She knew perfectly well that he was considering Lisette. She'd seen the way he watched her, with a kind of fascination, as if she were a fairy plaything. "She's exquisite," she said. "I would marry her, too."

He raised an eyebrow at the detachment in her voice. With luck, that meant he hadn't guessed that she was lusting after him with embarrassing heat.

"I wouldn't marry a woman for her beauty," Villiers said. She caught just a trace, just the smallest trace, of the unlovely boy thrown over for his handsome friend. "I need a mother for my children."

"Lisette loves children," Eleanor said, meaning it. "She truly loves them."

"I can tell. And she does so much work with those orphans. I believe that she wouldn't be put off by illegitimacy."

"Absolutely not. Lisette would never think twice about a person's origins."

"She could teach them to care as little about society as she does," Leopold said. "I asked her why she was never presented, for example, and she just laughed. She didn't care."

"Lisette has never cared for convention. It's not in her nature to kow-tow to someone because he is of high rank."

"I've seen that in Quakers. But never in a woman of the aristocracy. It's unexpectedly alluring."

"Yes," Eleanor said, gathering her wrap. "Lisette is definitely alluring." She was not going to say anything about Lisette's inability to care for anything for very long. Or, for that matter, about her betrothal.