The Heart of a Duke(2)

“Julia.” His lips curved into a slow, devastating smile.

She swallowed. What game was he playing now? Edmund liked his games. More so, he liked to win. Well, today she refused to play—at least by his rules.

“You are beautiful. I knew you would be,” he said.

She stared at him, bemused at his words, wondering if he was seeking to undermine her with that dangerous charm of his. When he chose to wield it, it was lethal. She cursed the heat climbing her neck and the traitorous leap to her pulse. “We need to talk.”

He paused and raised a brow at her words, but then nodded. “That we do.” He strode forward, “May I?’ He lifted his hands, but waited for her to acquiesce before assisting her to dismount.

She nearly gasped at the touch of his hands on her waist, the cotton fabric of her riding jacket but a thin barrier between them. Her gloved fingers curled over his sturdy shoulders as he easily set her on her feet before him. Rather than step back as a gentleman should, he stood too close, staring down at her with a rather odd and un-Edmund-like smile curving those sensuous lips.

Her body temperature, already elevated, soared higher. She had forgotten how tall he was. She had to tip her head back to meet his mesmerizing smile. When she did, her heart took another leap.

Good lord, he was beautiful.

He stood so close she could smell sandalwood soap and a hint of some musky, masculine cologne. She blinked.

This would not do. Betrothed or not, they were not married and they were unchaperoned, for she had refused a companion for this private affair. She preferred no one witness her vulnerability—or worse, her humiliation should she fail. Tamping down her flutter of nerves, she retreated a few steps, putting distance between her and Edmund. “I will start.”

He looked surprised and then smiled. “You always did like to go first.”

The comment, delivered with warm amusement, further disconcerted her. He really was not behaving like himself. “Yes, well, they do say ladies first.”

He grinned. “So they do.”

She paused at his manner. Edmund had always alternated between charming and impatient in his dealings with her, confounding traits, as they either compelled or repelled her, depending on which mood she confronted at the time. She was not familiar with this Edmund and hoped this would not complicate matters. Things needed to be said, and her Damn Duke had the uncanny habit of disappearing for long periods of time.

“You do know that my father is no longer grieving the loss of my mother, Jonathan has turned a robust five, and Emily is doing much, much better, so I think—”

“I am glad.”

Surprised at his interruption, she paused.

“I am glad to hear about your father and Emily. Grieving over the loss of a loved one is always a difficult journey.”

She frowned. Difficult? The word was too tame a description for her sister’s bedridden despair after Jason’s death in India. However, that was so like Edmund. He had never liked to discuss Emily’s “illness,” as he referred to it. Back on familiar footing, she continued. “Yes, well, now that my family’s concerns and my obligations have lightened, I think we are finally . . .” She paused to swallow, her words caught in her throat. “What I mean to say is . . .” She trailed off, and heat climbed her neck.

She might have acted impetuously upon hearing Edmund was in town. She should have taken time to collect her thoughts and prepare a proper speech. She was at a loss as to how to proceed. And her Damn Duke appeared to have no intention of rescuing her.

He watched her with a slightly amused expression, looking as if he enjoyed her discomfiture. Maybe she should have left this meeting to her father. She gritted her teeth. No, because by the time he got around to addressing the matter, she would need that silver-tipped cane to assist her to hobble down the aisle.

She began to pace as she groped for a proper lead-in, well aware of Edmund’s eyes trailing her, not making matters easy. “I just thought it is only reasonable that after so many years of waiting, we now—”

“Waiting? I am not sure I—”

She stopped and frowned at his furrowed brow. Edmund was not obtuse, so she could not fathom what he gained in pretending to be so. “For goodness’ sake, it has been five years. Bets are being wagered at White’s as we speak. I think it is time.”

“Time?” he echoed. Suddenly his eyes widened and he retreated a step. “I am beginning to understand.” He lifted his hand to rub his neck, a tinge of color spotting his cheeks.

Julia’s lips parted at the un-Edmund-like reaction.

What was wrong with the man?

A rueful smile curved his lips. “However, there is something I need to clarify before you continue.” He held up his hands. “You see, I am not who—”