I did not think it likely, however, that I would intimidate the Duke. He had a fine, muscular build, his jacket and breeches word tight to accentuate his form. His face was strong and kind, with a solidity that was only heightened by his ice-blue eyes. He had the overall appearance of a wind-besieged mountain range, wild and dangerous and strong. I was more than intrigued. I was enthralled.
The main festivities having begun at the fayre, the garden was empty apart from one or two wanderers that presently made their way to the far end and disappeared in a sea of blues and reds and pinks and purples. I sat in a shadowed corner, fanning myself, partly because of the heat, and partly as a mummery to anyone who wished to spy upon me. How could they object to a lady taking a break from the heat? Looking around anxiously, I thought I caught sight of the Duke many times only to be disappointed. Flowers that drooped and flowers that stood proud, at every disturbance, had me craning my neck to see the Duke, who was, I was sure, the man who had caused them to rustle. But there must have been some critters in there, for he was not there.
After ten minutes, I was about to leave. Color has risen in my cheeks and I felt distinctly ill, like someone had just fed me some nasty toxin. Perhaps the Duke was toying with me, I thought; and perhaps he has told the partygoers that he has tricked me into waiting for him in the garden. If that is the case, I will be ruined and so will father. There will be no coming back from this. “How could I be so foolish!” I whispered fiercely. “How could I be such a fool! There will be consequences for this! Brutal consequences! All hell will be unleashed! Father will never be able to show his face again! Ah, what have I done!”
I almost began to weep, which further heightened my anxiety. I hate to weep, hate to appear like those heroines in popular fiction that are rendered incapacitated by tears. Somehow, I managed to hold the tears away, to firm myself up, and was about to stand and make a swift exit from the grounds when there was yet another rustling amongst the rainbow-colored flowers. Despite myself, I turned, and saw the Duke walking confidently toward me.
My heart gave a skip, leap, jump within my chest. I forced myself to retake my seat, lest it appear that I was eager to see him, which I was, but which would be silly to show him. He looked around and, upon seeing me, smiled at strolled over to the bench on which I sat.
“My lady,” he said. “May I sit?”
“Of course,” I said.
He sat closer to me that was strictly proper, his thigh touching mine. I had never been so close to a man, and especially not so close to a man which provoked such feelings within me. He shifted his leg, with the express purpose, I believe, of rubbing my thigh with his. I blushed but I did not move away. The sensation was warm and pleasant, and it was not outwardly ignoble. To any spectator, we were just two people sitting upon a bench.
“I have seen you, in London,” the Duke said.
I had to bite my lip to stop from screaming.
He observed me for a moment, and then went on: “It was a while back. I was in town for some boring business or another. You were with your maidservant, the woman who accompanied you today, I believe. I cannot say precisely why I was so taken with you the first moment I saw you, Miss Archer, except that you have a face not at all rose- or doll-like. You have the face of a strong woman who is not at all confined by the archaic ideas of our ancestors. I believe that a countenance can tell much. Furthermore, I believe that yours speaks of a spark of intellect usually quashed in a woman. Am I correct? Do you read, Miss Archer?”
I wished to take a moment to recompose myself, but the idea of fleeing this meeting was unacceptable to me. Here was a man who not only recognized that I was unlike my peers, but seemed to respect it! This was a strange development in my own perception of the human condition, as I long ago had concluded that all men, at heart, would rather see a woman dashed upon the rocks that read any kind of serious book. And yet here was the Duke, asking me if I read books, and with a hint of pride in his tone!
“I have taught myself Greek and Latin and read the few classics Father has managed to procure for me. I also read the natural arts and history. These are all unwomanly subjects and if you were to tell no me I would be absolutely ruined.”
“I will not tell on you,” the Duke said, and turned to me. He looked down form my face to my neck, and then further down, in the most dishonorable way. His eyes romped over my body, but I did not stop him. Then they returned to my face. “You are a beautiful woman, in both mind and appearance. My lady, I wish to hold your hand.”
“Here?” I said, uneasily. If somebody spied us holding hands, we would be more or less engaged, less an outrage was to be caused.