The Duke I'm Going to Marry(101)
Perhaps for her, but the week-long wait to hold her in his arms, to run his hands along her naked body and feel the tingle of her soft, warm skin... too damn long.
He led her and her father into the lodge, rang for refreshments, and then summoned Miss Poole. “Her Highness has callers,” he said with a chuckle. “Please bring her down to meet our guests.”
Miss Poole smiled and bustled off to do his bidding.
Dillie, he could see, was practically leaping out of her skin with excitement. He’d expected her to accompany Miss Poole upstairs, and then realized that despite her obvious desire to do so, she wasn’t about to leave him alone with her father.
Bloody hell. Had she told him everything?
What a difference between the Farthingales and Markhams. He would never trust his family as Dillie trusted hers. In truth, Ian was glad he’d taken care of banishing his loathsome relatives. He hadn’t wanted them in England when he married, hadn’t wanted the remotest possibility of their foul taint touching his soon-to-be duchess.
It didn’t take long for Miss Poole to return with Felicity. While Dillie and her father fussed and cooed over the child, Ian kept his gaze on Dillie and simply soaked in her genuine warmth. Felicity responded with glee, adoring the attention and squealing with delight at Dillie’s playful manner and John Farthingale’s obvious experience with boisterous children.
Ian thought this moment was the best he’d ever experienced, a moment of exquisite purity. But as the morning wore on, and they settled into easy conversation—Felicity still commanding most of the attention—he realized that this first moment was only a hint of all the joys to come.
Suddenly, the possibility overwhelmed him.
This was why he had delayed facing Dillie. He hadn’t been ready to let down his guard, but it was happening anyway. His turtle shell was breaking apart, that hard outer layer he’d used to protect himself all of his life was beginning to splinter and crack. He no longer needed it now that he had Dillie and Felicity, yet his heart wasn’t quite ready to accept all the changes taking place.
He wasn’t yet prepared for happiness.
James never had his chance.
Quinn walked in and, with apologies for the interruption, brought Ian’s thoughts back to the present by handing him a letter. “This just arrived for you, Your Grace.”
Grabbing at the opportunity, Ian was on his feet and muttering something about an important matter that required his urgent attention. A feeble excuse, and no doubt they all saw through it, but the memory of James struggling in the icy water, slowly sinking into his watery grave, was too painful to keep contained. He had to leave before his facade of calm and control fell apart.
Dillie, who had been on her knees on the carpet sacrificing her ears and nose to Felicity’s curiosity, quickly handed the child back to her nanny and scrambled to her feet as best as she could on one good ankle. “Ian?”
“Don’t follow me, Daffy. Not this time.”
CHAPTER 16
DRAT! Ian had called her Daffy again. What had happened to suddenly overset him? Was it the letter? He hadn’t even opened it before he’d shot to his feet. They’d all been having a lovely time. Felicity was an adorable mix of imp and angel, and Dillie had loved her on sight. Who wouldn’t love those bright eyes and kissable, pudgy cheeks?
She turned to her father, who’d also come to his feet and was now standing beside her, one arm around her shoulder. “Give him a moment, sweetheart.”
She nodded.
Miss Poole, a woman of infinite good sense and discretion as far as Dillie was concerned, quietly bundled Felicity in her arms. “Time for Her Highness to take a nap. Please excuse us.” She scooped up the child’s blanket and a couple of toys that were on the carpet, and then bustled from the room, leaving Dillie alone with her father.
Dillie wasn’t certain how much time passed, perhaps only a few minutes, but it felt like eons. She strode to the tall windows that overlooked the back garden and peered out, hoping for a glimpse of Ian. When coming here, the road had wound parallel to a stream, and she realized the stream probably ran behind the lodge, just beyond the stone fence at the rear of the garden. “I don’t see him. He must have hopped over the garden wall.”
Her father joined her by the row of windows. “Give him a little more time. Sometimes a man just needs to be alone.”
“I’ll give him all the time he needs, Father. But he’s been alone far too long. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He’s been making his own way since he was a child of four. Of four! No one to help him. No one to comfort him. Worst of all, no one to forgive him for the accident that defines him.”