The Duke I'm Going to Marry(34)
Unfortunately, all he could do was think about that mouth and how soft it would feel against his lips as he kissed her into eternity. Hell. He wasn’t merely thinking days, months, or years with Dillie. He was thinking a lifetime and beyond. Eternity.
This was bad. He hadn’t even slept with the girl. Nor would he. Not ever.
He kept his arms crossed firmly over his chest, fighting the urge to give in to all his damn urges and sweep her into his embrace, plant his lips on hers, and pour his heart and soul into one long, wild kiss.
More than one long, wild kiss.
Plenty of them. Wickedly wild, hot kisses.
She mistook his silence for disapproval. He knew by the way she sighed and dejectedly slumped her shoulders. In the next moment, her gentle hand was on his arm again. What was wrong with the girl? It would take nothing for him to ruin her reputation. Merely being caught alone with him, as they were now, would be enough to raise eyebrows. It could destroy her chances with Charles Ealing. The clunch would not be pleased to find them together.
Apparently, Dillie wasn’t concerned. Was she even thinking of Charles?
She gazed up at him again, and he knew what she was going to ask before she’d opened her mouth to speak again. The girl loved family. The girl had a big, generous heart. She was thinking of Felicity.
He had to redirect her mothering instincts. He’d buy her a cocker spaniel to nurture, one with big, chocolate brown eyes and a happily wagging tail.
“If Felicity isn’t your child, then whose is she?”
“None of your business.”
“But—”
He fully turned to face her, now so close he could smell the scent of peaches in her hair. He felt a surge of anger—not aimed at her, of course. She squeezed his arm lightly, as though sensing his anguish. He was desperate to suppress all feeling. He was hurting. Dillie made him hurt. Dillie made him wish for things that were impossible.
Dillie almost made him feel good about himself.
He hated the feeling.
He wanted her to believe the lies his mother had been spewing. He wanted her to be angry with him, to condemn him and call him a lying bastard. He’d dealt with hatred all of his life. He knew how to handle it. He’d never received support and assurance. Until now. Until Dillie. She believed in him.
He didn’t know how to respond to that.
He was afraid to respond to that.
If he let her in, he’d inevitably disappoint her as he’d disappointed all who had ever mattered in his life. “Stop trying to save me, Dillie. I don’t give a bloody damn what anyone thinks of me.”
She sighed. “But I do. I can’t seem to help myself. Do you want to know why?”
He kept silent.
“I’ll tell you anyway. It’s these words my father often says—though they’re meant to apply to his business dealings, the caution is appropriate for friendships and other matters of the heart. He says that people don’t change.” She paused again, obviously hoping he’d respond. He wasn’t going to encourage the girl.
“So,” she continued, “I’ve given quite a bit of thought to what you are. Would you care to know what I think?”
“The answer is still no. Stop meddling in my business.”
She let out a short, sweet laugh. “You forget that I’m a Farthingale. I can’t help meddling. It’s what we Farthingales do best. Snooping, prying, it’s in our blood. Taking care of family is also in our blood. I can help. We all can help. Felicity—”
“Not this time. I know you mean well, but you needn’t worry about the child. I have a capable staff to attend to her every need.”
She shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong. The child needs more than a roof over her head and food for nourishment. A child needs love. Lots of it. Something I suspect you’ve never had.” She arched an eyebrow and cast him a gentle grin. “See how pitifully you turned out. Is that what you wish for Felicity?”
Despite his efforts, he laughed. “Did I mention you were stubborn and insufferable?”
She rolled her eyes. Lord, she had beautiful eyes. “Too many times to count. How old is she?”
He groaned inwardly. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“No, not until I have my way. I’ll stay here as long as it takes.” She glanced toward the ballroom. The first dance of the evening was about to end. Guests were starting to drift to the doors and would soon be on the terrace, seeking the cool outdoors. “I’m not worried about my reputation. My family is too wealthy to be snubbed. So am I, though I won’t come into my funds until I’m twenty-five, or sooner if I marry.”
He held up his hands, as though in surrender. “Very well. I’ll answer the question, if only to be rid of you. Felicity is about six months old now, just a little younger than Ivy. She isn’t mine, though no one will believe it because of the family resemblance. Felicity is my niece.”