The portrait of a duches.., p.12
The Portrait of a Duchess, page 12
Cornelia snorted. “As anyone who has ever read a nursery book knows, in order to meet the man, the wives, and the profusion of cats, the teller must have crossed paths with them on the way to St. Ives. Therefore they were walking in the opposite direction. Ergo, the answer is one.”
This was not helping his cause.
“Some of us are mere horse trainers and were not blessed with a milk-fed education in which there was time to learn the most complicated of Saxon riddles. Congratulations on being raised by a duke, with all the nursery books money can buy.”
She laughed. “I happen to know you were raised by a prosperous horse breeder and educated in London, which certainly has its fair share of bookstores. So I think you mean congratulations on scoring the first point. Now then, since I have won, it is my turn to ask you a riddle. I shall take pity on you and begin with a simple one.”
“I hope I am up to the challenge,” he said, truthfully. Her presence was making him feel unusually dense. At least it was also distracting him from his damp clothing.
She cleared her throat.
“I view the world in little space,
Am always restless, changing place.
No food I eat but in my power
Procure what millions do devour.”
It was a relatively easy enigma. He’d heard one like it before.
Perhaps she did not wish to be kissed after all.
“The sun,” he said. “My turn.”
She pouted. “I took pity on you due to your supposed intellectual infirmity, and look at you, knowing all the answers.”
“Thank you for your mercy.”
She grinned and rubbed a rivulet of rain off her face with the back of her hand. “Trust you won’t receive it again. Now give me a difficult one. The point of this game is to amuse, not bore.”
If she meant to goad him, it was working.
“Very well,” he said. This one he’d read in a gentleman’s magazine. She’d likely not heard it before.
“Black I am and much admired,
Men seek me until they’re tired;
When they find me, break my head,
And take me from my resting bed.”
Cornelia was quiet for a while, thinking. It was a relief that she did not immediately know the answer.
“Black,” she mused. “So many things are black. What sleeps? A cat, I suppose. But break my head—no. That doesn’t make sense.”
Good. He wanted his portrait.
“Poor dear. Stumped by the humble horseman,” he drawled. “Do you forfeit?”
“Certainly not. I never quit at anything.” She tapped her chin, thinking. “Oh! Of course. Men seek me and take me from a bed, but it tires them. Like miners. What is black and mined? Coal!”
She smiled at him, victorious, and wiped away another errant drop of rain that had landed on her nose.
He hadn’t expected her to know the answer. She was intimidatingly intelligent.
“You are very clever,” he said, genuinely.
“Aren’t I?” she laughed. “Now I have one for you. Unless you would like to forfeit entirely, as I am clearly going to win and I would not want to exhaust you with so many miles left to cover.”
Never. He was competitive enough to not wish to be bested.
“No, I’m energized by your wit. Please, go on.”
She grinned at him slyly.
“I go in hard and dry
And come out soft and wet.”
“What am I, Rafe?” She waggled her brows at him like a lecher ogling a barmaid in a revealing gown.
Which meant she was trying to trick him. He happened to know this one, too. It was meant to sound filthy, and the true answer was innocent.
“A sponge,” he said triumphantly.
She shook her head and sighed as if in sympathy. “Oh, Rafe. How sad you are. The answer is clearly a man’s most private part. That’s another win for me.”
He nearly fell off his horse. Her combination of dignity, poise, and filthy-mindedness was going to undo him.
“Cornelia. Speak like that and you’ll unseat me.”
“I will stop when you beat me, which you most certainly have not. Now you owe me a penalty. One question of my choice.”
“Fine. What is it you would like to know, you cheat?”
The victorious smile didn’t leave her face. “Who was your first love?”
That had not been a question Rafe was expecting. Nor one that was easy, or simple, to discuss. And Cornelia clearly meant it as a challenge, for the smirk on her lips was proud indeed.
The smirk of a young woman delighting in her newfound powers over men.
It reminded him why the warm feelings he had for her could not lead to anything. He wished they were in a carriage instead of on horseback. He could have challenged her to a game of checkers instead of agreeing to this treacherous game of enigmas. He could beat her at checkers with his eyes closed.
“I had two, I think,” he admitted.
“You think? Surely if you were in love twice over, you would know it.”
“Love can be complicated.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know.”
“Do you?” he shot back, with more force than he meant to. She sat up straighter.
“If I do not, explain to the poor, naive child what you mean.”
He closed his eyes, remembered he was on a horse, and opened them. The story still pained him.
“There was a girl when I was a very young man. A neighbor. We’d had a special connection since childhood.”
“A special connection. I don’t suppose you mean—”
“I mean affection for each other. Mutual understanding. Attraction to each other’s bodies. She was sweet with me, and I was sweet with her.”
“Very well, very well, I understand. Did you seduce her?”
“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t have to ‘seduce’ her. We wanted each other. I wanted to marry her.”
“But you couldn’t, because you were in love with someone else besides?”
“Yes.”
“Well? Who was the other lady?”
He hesitated. He could easily avoid being honest—this was not her business, and it was delicate to share. Very few people knew about his attractions.
But the kind of girl who spoke of cocks, who asked distant acquaintances to marry them in the middle of the night, who knew the danger of your desires being used against you—something made him trust her.
He’d told so few people what had happened. In a way, it was a relief to talk about it.
“He was a trainer at my father’s stable.”
The teasing look fell from her face.
“You were in love with another man,” she said softly. There was no judgment in her voice, and very little surprise. It made him like her more, that she would accept his secrets with such equanimity, the same way he accepted hers.
“We were both boys, really. But when we were around each other, alone—it did not matter who or what we were. Friends, lovers, companions.”
“And who did you choose?”
“Neither.” He did not know how to put this in a way she would understand. Few people ever understood.
“Both. It’s complicated. I don’t wish you to think I was dishonest. They knew about each other. But ultimately, both of them wanted someone for just themselves. And so I ended up with neither.”
They were both quiet. Perhaps because she could hear the sadness in his voice.
She looked over at him, compassion in her eyes. “Were they angry at you?”
“A little, I think. I could not explain how I felt—that I loved them both. That the one was not a threat to the other—that there was room in my heart for both of them.”
That he fell in love so easily, so generously. That it did not mean it wasn’t real.
“They couldn’t share you,” she surmised.
“Yes. And I understood that.”
It was his first, harsh lesson that his feelings were excessive, overabundant. That his infatuations caused him to hurt people, and drove them away.
“What happened to them?” Cornelia asked.
“She courted with another man and married him. He became distant and ultimately left for another post. Never returned my letters.”
“And what of you?” Her voice was soft, sad. There was no teasing tone to her voice or posture. Just sympathy.
“I was heartbroken,” he admitted. He coughed. He felt vulnerable discussing this.
“This is why you won’t marry.” She said it as a statement, not a question.
“Only you,” he said ruefully.
She smiled, but she didn’t laugh. “I’m honored, Rafe. But I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “It was a long time ago. I’ve had many loves since.”
She was quiet for a moment, and then her solemn expression went devilish.
“That’s not why I’m sorry,” she said, smiling at him as though to lift his spirits. “I’m sorry that you lost the game. Now I must demand my forfeit.”
“But we haven’t reached the inn,” he protested.
She gave him a victorious smile and pointed ahead to a sign. “The Hare and Crow, 1 mile.”
“We’re nearly there, and I can’t extract my victory prize in public.” She inclined her head innocently. “You do remember my prize?”
As if he could forget it.
“Cornelia, you couldn’t possibly want—”
She slowed her horse abruptly and pointed at a small clearing in the forest. “Stop your horse there.”
He hesitated.
“Rafe, if you are, as you say, a man of honor, then you will do as I ask. It will only take a minute. Now get me off this horse.”
He was a man of honor. He would kiss her to end this battle of the wills. On the cheek.
He helped her dismount and tied the horses to a tree.
“Come,” Cornelia said in a low voice, beckoning him. He allowed her to lead him by the hand into a grove protected from the rain.
“Here,” she murmured. “Perfect.”
He leaned in to offer her a chastely buss on her cheekbone, prim and proper.
But Cornelia leaned up, took his head in her hands, and rubbed her thumb over his lips. Her caress was soft and warm and welcoming. It did not demand, but beckoned.
He was stunned into stillness by the intimacy of the gesture.
He put an inch between their skin and expelled a breath. He wanted this, but he was not at all sure he would be a good man if he went on with it.
“Why do you want this?” he asked her.
“Because I like you,” she said simply.
“And you kiss everyone you like?”
“No. Just the old reluctant ones.”
He snorted, despite his nerves.
She glanced up into his eyes and traced her fingernails lightly down the back of his neck. “Please?” she asked.
He groaned. “Cornelia, you are too young.”
“Experience and age are not the same thing,” she said huskily. “And you can’t tell me what I want. Only what you will give me.” She exuded calm, as though she were the elder in the pair and wished to soothe his nerves.
It was her calm that made him nod in acquiescence. “One kiss.”
Her eyes lit up.
She put her mouth to his gently, like he was a delicate thing she had to treat with utmost tenderness.
It was excruciatingly sweet and kind and it made him want her even more, for the sensitivity she showed him.
“You’re sure,” he whispered, finally believing her.
She laughed low in her throat. “Yes.”
That was all he needed to abandon his last scruple.
He pressed her to him by the shoulders, bent down, and offered her his tongue. She took it greedily, kissing him back expertly as her hands roamed the sides of his arms and down to his arse, which she pulled against her to draw him closer.
It was only when they heard the sound of a carriage approaching in the distance that they jumped apart.
He braced himself against a tree, worried he might stumble with the loss of her nearness and heat. But she stood straight and panting in the clearing, her eyes dancing with his and her swollen lips curved into a smile.
“Thank you,” she said. “That was an excellent beginning.”
Chapter Seventeen
Cornelia had always adored any game. Especially if that game took place late at night. Especially if it involved touching. She liked bedtime games best of all, but parlor games would do.
She was also charmed by Anna’s enthusiasm for arranging diversions. When she’d been that age, she’d tried to finagle playmates out of anyone she could.
In particular, Rafe Goodwood.
The impulse hadn’t changed.
“Who would like to be the seeker first?” Anna asked.
When no one immediately volunteered, Thaïs put up her hand. “Might as well be me. I have a skill for groping.”
Cornelia groaned.
“You are quite predictable, my dear,” Seraphina said.
Thaïs grinned at her. “I’m reliable, I am. And often lied upon.”
Lord Eden stared at Thaïs from across the room, like he was not sure if she could possibly be real. Everyone else laughed.
“Excellent,” Anna chirped. “We shall need a blindfold.” She scanned around the room. “Ah, brother. Give me your cravat.”
Lord Eden smiled pleasantly at his sister. “Absolutely not.”
“Then I shall have to go up to my room to find a scarf. Unless some other kind gentleman would like to volunteer his neckcloth.”
She said this looking directly at Gilby Howe. Poor Gilby turned the color of a beet. Seeing this, Rafe quickly stepped in. “As your host, I believe the duty should fall on me.”
He put his hands to his cravat and began to unfurl the linen, revealing his strong, ropy neck. His naked throat brought into relief the tremendous definition of his jaw.
She tried not to stare, and tried harder not to think of tomorrow, when she intended to make him remove more than that. She could not dally with Rafe more than flirtation would allow, but it would be difficult not to gaze hungrily upon him while she painted him.
She wondered if he was thinking of that, too.
“Right then. Tie me up, Your Grace,” Thaïs said, walking over to Rafe and presenting herself rump-side to be blindfolded.
Rafe chuckled as he did the honors. “There we are. Nice and tight.”
“Just how you like it, I reckon,” Thaïs said sweetly.
Cornelia glanced at Lord Eden, who, without a word, placed his hands over his sister’s ears.
“I’m going to count to ten, and everyone should run about the room so Miss Magdalene has no inkling where we are,” Anna instructed. “And then I shall say ‘seek’ and you must stand in place while she tries to find the nearest person. The first person she touches will be our seeker next.”
Anna counted to ten as everyone scuttled about the room, leaving Thaïs near the gallery doors.
“And, seek!” she yelled.
Thaïs, being a ham, made quite a show of stumbling around with her arms outstretched. Perhaps intentionally, or perhaps owing to a poor sense of direction, she walked toward the doors that led away from her fellow players.
She fumbled in the air, grasping at nothing.
The doors opened, and Marianne came walking in. Anna gestured at her to be still, pointing at the blindfold, but Thaïs had canny hearing and reached out and tagged the girl directly on the bosom.
“Who’ve I captured?” she cried gleefully, palpating her prey’s breast.
Thaïs ripped off her blindfold, her other hand still clutched in the vicinity of Marianne’s chest.
Marianne breathed in sharply.
“It’s me,” Marianne said. “I came to get Seraphina. I wasn’t aware you were playing. I’m sorry for ruining the game.”
Thaïs looked oddly flustered, if pleased.
“Why, I’ve caught myself Miss Anderson,” she said, giving Marianne a saucy wink. “Nice haul for the first try.”
“Will you join us, Marianne?” Cornelia asked.
“I would love to. But Seraphina, the baby needs feeding. She’s fussing.”
Sera stood and bowed to the assembled guests.
“Maternal duty calls. I shall see you all in the morning.”
“I’ll go with you, dear. I’m exhausted from the journey,” Elinor said.
The two of them left the room, arm in arm. After a brief hesitation, Jack followed them.
Cornelia wondered if he intended to sleep here tonight. And if so, whether Elinor might welcome him into her bed.
Marianne went next, fumbling about until she landed on Gilby Howe, who seemed mortified to be touched by an attractive woman.
Poor man. Anna was going to eat him alive.
And soon, for when Marianne yelled “seek,” Anna ran toward Gilby, rather than away from him.
Noticing this too, Rafe caught Cornelia’s eye and they exchanged an amused look. She wondered if he was comparing Anna to herself when she was young. And she wondered whether he liked her as much now as he had then, when she’d been so eager to make him her strong, sturdy, handsome paramour.
She could not be so forward with him now. But watching Anna made her wish she could be.
Anna’s attempt to be caught was, sadly for her, unsuccessful. Gilby took a sharp right turn and ended up tapping Canette on the shoulder. Rafe glanced over at Cornelia again, checking if she saw the piqued look on Anna’s face. She did, and snorted with laughter, which made Rafe laugh, too.
She loved how he threw his head back when he laughed—generous and open-mouthed. It reminded her of the eager, joyful way he kissed.
“Is something funny?” Anna asked, looking genuinely baffled by their mirth.
“Just enjoying the game, my dear,” Cornelia assured her. Rafe bit his lip and nodded solemnly.
Canette proved good at the game, catching Singh within a minute. Singh looked like he enjoyed being caught. “You always catch me, don’t you?” Cornelia thought she heard him say under his breath. Cornelia didn’t hear the answer, but from the look on Canette’s face, she suspected there was something between them.
Singh took his turn—and caught Cornelia. (She’d made the mistake of standing in the center of the gallery—never a clever choice.)
