A Secret Affair

“Mr. Huxtable?” Her eyebrows arched upward.

“Duchess.”

Her court hung upon their words as though they had delivered a lengthy monologue apiece.

“You have deigned to favor London with your presence again, then?” she asked.

Her court sighed with almost inaudible approval of her disdain for a man who had come back after she had rejected him. His time was over, that near-silent sigh informed him. The sooner he rode on and bore his heartbreak with some dignity, the better for all concerned.

For answer, he held out one hand, clad in skin-tight black leather. His eyes held Ha

“Set your foot on my boot,” he said.

What?

“Oh, I say,” one unidentified gentleman protested. “Can you not see, Huxtable, that her grace …”

Ha

She gave her parasol one more twirl and looked mockingly up at him.

There was another near-inaudible sigh of approval. If Ha

Ha

The next moment, without any further effort on her part, she was seated sideways on the horse in front of his saddle, and his black-clad arms and hands bracketed her front and back so that even if she had been inclined to fear for her safety she could not possibly have done so.

She was not inclined to fear.

She turned her head and looked into the very dark eyes, now almost on a level with her own.

He was turning the horse, and the crowd was moving back out of his way. The crowd also had a great deal to say and was saying it—to her, to him, to one another. Ha

He had come.

And he had come to claim her.

Had he?

“That,” she said, “was very dramatic.”

“Yes, wasn’t it?” he said. “I understood upon my return, which was a mere couple of hours ago, by the way, that I was your scorned, rejected swain. For very pride’s sake I had to make some extravagant gesture.”

“It certainly was extravagant,” she said as he weaved his horse skillfully among the horses and carriages that half clogged the path ahead.

“Am I?” he asked.

“Scorned?” she said.

“Rejected.”

“And a swain,” she said. “I like the image of you as a swain. My dress is going to be ruined, Constantine. It will smell of horse for the rest of its life.”

They were not quite clear of the crowd. They were fully visible to every part of it. And there were probably very few people among it who were not taking full advantage of that fact.

He kissed her anyway—full on the lips, with open mouth. And it was no token peck. It must have lasted a full fifteen or twenty seconds, which under the circumstances was an eternity.

And since she must endure it anyway as she was definitely not in any physical condition to fight him off, Ha

“There,” he said when he raised his head. His eyes were looking very deeply into hers. There was no escaping them. Her very soul was invaded and captured. She invaded his in return. “You have been thoroughly compromised, Duchess.”

“I have,” she admitted with a sigh. “And what do you intend to do about it, sir?”

She wished she had not spoken those words once they were out of her mouth. They were too much like an ultimatum.

“I am a gentleman, Duchess,” he said. “I intend to marry you.”

She responded with a huge and awkward swallow that almost choked her. She looked away from him, noted that the crowd had been left behind and they were almost alone on the path, rural parkland all about them, and attempted to put back the armor in which she had been so comfortably encased just a few minutes ago.

“Do you?” she said coolly. “And were you pla

“I was hoping it might be,” he said. “I suppose every man dreads the actual proposal scene of his own love story. But I see you are not to be fooled or deprived of it, Duchess. It is going to have to be a down-on-one-knee thing, then, is it, something I can hardly do at this precise moment. I do not doubt that though we have left the crowds behind, they would come ru

Despite herself Ha

“You seem very confident of success,” she said.

“That is as much as you know about me,” he said. “If you knew me better, you would understand that I am babbling, Duchess, and that my heart is thumping quite erratically. We will change the subject. Jess is free and happy and puffed up with pride, all thanks to you, I believe. I do not suppose the king heard about his plight in the natural course of events.”

He was changing the subject? After informing her that he was going to marry her, he was now going to talk about Jess Barnes and the king?

Well.

She looked nonchalantly about her.

“I happened to see him,” she said, “and happened to mention the case to him. He wept. He would have wept if I had told him I had torn my favorite lace handkerchief.”

He laughed.

“Happened to see him,” he said. “Strolling on Bond Street, I suppose.”

“Constantine,” she said, closing her eyes briefly, “is Jess Barnes really safe? Will not your neighbors be out to exact some justice of their own against him?”

“He is on his way to Rigby Abbey,” he said. “Elliott’s country estate. He has been promoted from a farm hand to a stable hand. He is the happiest and proudest man in England.”

“Elliott,” she said. “The duke. You are reconciled with him, then?”

“I think we have mutually agreed that we behaved like prize asses,” he said. “And we have both admitted that perhaps it had to be that way so that Jon’s dream could come true. Our friendship had to be sacrificed for a while for that end—and I would do it all again if I had to. So would Elliott—try to protect Jon from himself, that is, and Stephen’s inheritance from his rashness. But we are friends again. Cousins again.”

“And almost brothers?” she said.

“And that too,” he said. “Yes. And that too.”

She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

Her heart melted.

He opened his mouth to speak again.

And a trio of young horsemen who were riding toward them whistled as they came and called out to them with good-natured ribaldry as they passed. Ha

Constantine gri