The Duke of Taviston stepped into the small clearing and gave a visible start. Clearly, he had not been expecting to find anyone. The moonlight shone strongly enough he would have no trouble identifying her.
“Miss Forster? What are you doing here? Are you all by yourself? Are you all right?”
He was at the bench in two quick strides. Victoria craned her neck up at him. He must have noted the awkwardness of it for he immediately sat down beside her.
For all that she had wanted to avoid him; Victoria’s heart did a little leap of joy at the sight of him. She promised herself she would only look; she would not touch.
“It’s me. I came out for some fresh air. I am all alone and I am well, thank you.”
He looked at her as if she had suddenly grown a third ear. It was an endearing look, his puzzlement. She had to smile.
“You asked four questions and I answered them.” Drat, she had cleared away the confused expression.
He returned her smile. She gripped her champagne glass with both hands. Behave.
“Ah. I’m sorry I was so abrupt.”
“It’s quite all right. Are you enjoying the ball?”
He grimaced. “As much as one can enjoy these affairs.”
“Why do you come if you don’t take pleasure from it?” she asked. It was odd, but she no longer felt uneasy in his presence. Tense and excited, yes; uneasy, no.
“Excellent question indeed.” He sat facing the garden path with his arms resting on his thighs and his hands draped between his knees. He had removed his gloves at some point. She unabashedly stared at his straight nose, strong chin, and warm lips. Well, she did not know for sure his lips were warm, but she liked to think of them that way.
Enough with these wayward thoughts. “I, for one, have no choice but to be here. I must find a husband in order to get away from Louisa and Mr. Browne.” She hadn’t meant to let that fact slip again.
He straightened and turned to face her. With concern he said, “Does Mr. Browne bother you?”
An unusual question. “Certainly, he can be vexing at times, but then most men are.”
“No. I meant to say, does he, er, physically bother you?” Turning his body more fully toward her, he peered straight into her eyes.
She wanted nothing more than to sustain that gaze. But of a will of their own, her cheeks flushed and her gaze strayed away.
“Victoria?” Apprehension colored his voice.
She turned toward him again and her heart warmed at the concern lining his face and echoed in the way he intimately said her name. He worried for her. How unlike the proper, intimidating duke.
“I beg your pardon. Do you not know about Barrett Browne?”
“Know what?”
“He does not fancy women at all,” she whispered. “He apparently prefers the company of men.”
His eyes widened considerably. “That explains much.” Then he scowled at her. “How do you know of such things?”
“The servants at Rippingale Manor were my daily companions and they were not always discreet in their talk around me.”
He frowned. “That sounds appallingly lonely.”
She looked across the path. “Actually, I enjoyed my years there. I knew everyone in the village.” She looked back towards Taviston. “In truth, I have only been lonely since I arrived in London. The only people who deign to speak to me are the older members of the ton, whom everyone else deems inconsequential.”
She lowered her gaze from his face. His white cravat was tied simply. It always was. No pretense there. She had noticed his rich red waistcoat earlier tonight. He did not seem the type at all to wear such showy garments. Another contradiction. Her thoughts drifted back to the day she had seen him without clothing. She shivered and licked her lips.
His low, deep voice brought her eyes back up to his. “I am sorry for the treatment you have received here in London.”
Expecting to see pity in his eyes, she was surprised when his eyes darkened and slipped down to rest on her mouth.