A Duke in Shining Armor

Sensations, emotions, on the other hand, he had in plenty. They swamped the inner voice trying to remind him who she was and what was right and what was wrong. He dragged his hands down over her perfect shoulders and down her straight back to the fine curve of her bottom. That felt good. Perfect. He pulled her hard against his groin. That was better.

But she gasped and broke the kiss and wriggled. The spell broke, and he had no choice but to ease his strangling grip. Though this made only the smallest distance between them, it was enough. The world came back and his powers of thought returned, and his brain demanded to know what he was about. Had he lost his mind at last? Was he dead drunk? Concussed?

It didn’t matter how much he wanted her. It didn’t matter if she haunted his dreams and wouldn’t let him sleep. It didn’t matter if she charmed and intrigued him and he hated Ashmont for being the first to stop watching from a distance.

Still, Ripley didn’t release her completely. If she’d pulled away more forcefully, he would have let her go—he hoped he would, at any rate—but she didn’t. She only stood in the circle of his arms, looking up at him, spectacles askew.

“All right,” she said, her voice thick. “Well.” She shook her head. “But no.” She pushed at him. Then he had no excuse not to let go. She stepped back, straightened her posture, straightened her dress, and adjusted her spectacles. “That was . . . educational.”

Educational. Oh, it most assuredly was.

She, an innocent. She, his best friend’s betrothed.

Ripley pushed away from the tree that had propped him up. He swore. He tore off his hat and hit the tree with it. He swore and swore until the space about him ought to have turned blue and the trees ought to have shriveled up. As it was, birds flew up from the branches and squirrels scolded and small, panicked creatures raced through the undergrowth.

“Ripley, for heaven’s sake!”

He heard her, but his mind shouted more loudly.

Ashmont was his best friend. Since boyhood, since those miserable early days at Eton. They’d always stood up for one another, the three of them.

And Ripley . . .

He kicked the tree—with his left foot, not the damaged one, though that was pure luck because he wasn’t thinking. But the jolt unbalanced him, and down he went.

Meanwhile at Camberley Place

“London?” Ashmont repeated.

He and Blackwood stood in Lady Charles Ancaster’s drawing room. Ashmont sported a black eye. Neither gentleman’s appearance was elegant. They appeared to have been run over by market wagons and, possibly, a herd of cattle.

“So it would seem,” her ladyship said. She held out the note Ripley had left for her.

Ashmont took it and read, “‘Gone to London. R.’” He turned the note over. The other side was blank. “That’s all?”

“He deemed it sufficient,” she said.

Blackwood and Ashmont nodded. They rarely explained themselves, either.

It did not occur to them that Lady Charles, too, might leave a great deal unsaid, including highly pertinent information.

“London,” Ashmont said. “We thought so, didn’t we? Gone back to London, we said. Wild-goose chase. But then all the clues, you know.”

“He did come here,” Blackwood said. “Didn’t go straight back to London. We weren’t wrong.”

“When you didn’t appear last evening, we all assumed you’d remained in Town,” Lady Charles said. “What a comedy of errors this has turned out to be.”

“Dash it, did he think we wouldn’t give chase?” Ashmont said. “Didn’t he mean for us to do it?”

“On the contrary, we had been expecting you,” Lady Charles said. “In fact, I should have thought you’d arrive before my nephew did or soon thereafter. His journey turned out more complicated than anticipated.”

“Ours, too,” Blackwood said, glancing at Ashmont. “We had an annoyance in Putney. Riot Act read. That sort of thing.”

“Indeed,” Lady Charles said. She put up her glass and studied his eye. “The bruise looks recent.”

“That happened after the . . . erm . . . misunderstanding,” Blackwood said. “He fell down some stairs.”

“Something I ate didn’t agree with me,” Ashmont said. “Sick all night, or I would have come, dash it.”

“Something you drank, most likely,” Lady Charles said crisply. “A fine start to wedded bliss this is. I had hoped that even you could get married without making a muddle of it. And to such an admirable girl, too.”

“I know she’s admirable,” Ashmont said. “Saw it at once. Wondered why I didn’t see it before. But wasn’t thinking of marrying before, you see.”

“Had you made your feelings clearer to her, she might not have run away,” her ladyship said.

Ashmont frowned. “Yes. Didn’t woo hard enough. So everybody tells me. But I did, you know. Told her all about the library, like Unc—that is, as I knew I ought—and she seemed pleased.”

“We’re not sure she did run, exactly,” Blackwood said. “We suspect it was Ripley’s joke.”

“Do you, indeed?” said Lady Charles. “It puzzles me why a clever girl like Olympia would have gone along with him.”

“That’s what her brother said.”

“Regardless of her motives, your behavior has not been calculated to please,” said her ladyship. “You were too busy fighting and drinking yourself sick to hurry after her and coax her back.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Blackwood said.

Lady Charles’s expression chilled a degree further. “I shall not attempt to imagine what they were. I shall merely tell you that, in her place, I should have been greatly disappointed in my suitor.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Go to London. But do not be amazed if she tells you to look elsewhere for a duchess. Perhaps that’s for the best.”

“I won’t look elsewhere!” Ashmont said. “Whatever’s wrong, I’ll mend it. I said I’d marry her and I meant it. And I will. And Ripley may kiss my—my aunt.”

He made an angry bow and started away.

But he paused, and must have thought better of his behavior, because he turned back, looking sheepish. “Beg your pardon, Lady Charles. Please forgive me. That was . . . Didn’t mean to . . . Well, you know. Feelings.” He gave her his most angelic smile.

“I recommend you learn how to express your feelings in a more intelligent and agreeable manner,” she said. “Because if you don’t look out, someone who can do that will steal her away. If that happens, you won’t get her back.”

“Yes, Lady Charles. I’ll do better from now on.”

He took a proper leave of her this time, and walked to the door.

Blackwood started to follow, then paused and said, “And Alice, by the way? Is she about?”

“Oh, Ripley, what have you done?”

A brown, hairy face loomed over Ripley’s and a gigantic tongue approached. “Get off!” he pushed the dog away.

Ripley’s ears rang. His foot was demanding to be amputated. Rain dripped from the trees onto his face.

Lady Olympia sank to her knees beside him. Her lips were swollen and her hat and spectacles were crooked.

I hate me, he thought.

“Dash it, Olympia! Don’t kneel in the wet!”

“What about you?” she said. “It’ll be a miracle if you haven’t broken something.”

“Nothing’s broken,” he said. “I’m not made of glass. I’m not delicate, plague take it.” He raised himself onto his elbows. “Stop coddling me. You ought to punch me in the face. Do you see? Do you see what happens? This is why it’s against the rules for unmarried ladies to be alone with men. We can’t be trusted. Most of us, we get near an attractive female, and our minds fall straight into the gutter.”

She sat back on her haunches. She adjusted her spectacles.

“Attractive?” she said. “Are you serious?”

Olympia’s heart, which had not stopped pounding, now beat harder.

She st

ill hadn’t recovered from the kiss. She wasn’t sure she’d ever recover. She didn’t know a kiss could be like that. She wasn’t sure kiss was the correct word.

Then he’d taken a fit. And then . . . Attractive, he’d said. Meaning her.

“I told you last night,” he said. “Pretty and shapely. Did you forget?”