Kate Pearce - Educating Elizabeth

"Go to bed, Elizabeth. I will see you in the morning."

His quiet command galvanized her into action. She slid from the chair, aware of her bare feet and the heat in his eyes as he shielded her from the light in the study. He pointed to the far end of the library where Elizabeth assumed there would be another exit. She nodded and skimmed her tongue over her lower lip where the duke had nipped her.

His breath hissed out as he watched her slow backward retreat. " Merde , stop biting your lip unless you wish me to bite it for you! Go to bed."

Elizabeth closed her mouth, turned, and ran as Sir John entered the study and the duke moved away, closing the door behind him and shutting off the light.

"Ah, Mrs. Waterstone." The duke rose to his feet and bowed. "I'm so glad that you decided to join us on this fine morning."

Elizabeth cast a bleary eye out of the window of the pristine breakfast parlor where a fine drizzle obscured the garden and the leaden skies. She accepted a cup of tea from Standish and brightened considerably when he pointed out the row of lidded silver dishes from which emanated the heavenly smells of a cooked breakfast.

After swallowing the tea and working her way through a hearty meal, she managed to focus on the duke, who had resumed his place at the head of the table. From the look of his dress and his rain-dampened hair, he had already been out. There was no sign of Sir John, but a young man, also dressed for riding, occupied the seat next to the duke.

The duke gestured to his companion. "Mrs. Waterstone, I would like you to meet another relative of mine, Nicholas Gallion. He assists Sir John with my correspondence and all manner of useful things."

The red-headed man stood up and bowed, a smile in his whiskey-colored eyes. His complexion was fair and freckles sprinkled the bridge of his nose. He reminded Elizabeth of an elegant greyhound, full of suppressed energy and intelligence. She guessed his age to be similar to her own.

"Yes, indeed, Your Grace." Nicholas said.

To her surprise, he had a distinct French accent.

"I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Waterstone. His Grace tells me that our ancestors coexist on the far corners of the mighty Diable Delamere family tree." A dimple played at the corner of his mouth as he shot a glance at the duke. "As the duke says, my duties are indeed varied. Last week I had the pleasure of fending off the dukes latest discarded mistress. She certainly had a very interesting vocabulary for a lady."

The duke poured himself another cup of coffee. "Despite his complaints, Nick has a way with the ladies. I'm sure that he will be honored to escort you around town when I'm unable to."

"Of course, Mrs. Waterstone. Consider me at your service."

Elizabeth drank more tea and had just started to feel alive when Sir John Harrington strode into the room. After a quick glance in her direction, he began to converse with the duke in rapid French. After listening for a minute or two, Elizabeth cleared her throat.

"Your Grace, would you please tell Sir John that I speak French far better than he does?" She smiled, showing her teeth. "And if you don't mind me saying so, his accent is atrocious . If he doesn't wish me to understand what he is saying, he should try another language."

Nicholas gave a snort of laughter that he tried valiantly to suppress. The duke's lips twitched, but he seemed unperturbed as he continued to gaze at Elizabeth.

"Before you open your mouth again, John," the duke said smoothly, "Might I suggest that you also avoid Latin and Greek?" The duke raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth and she nodded. "Is there anything else you wish to add, my dear?"

"I speak Spanish too, Your Grace, but not particularly well." Elizabeth couldn't help but smile as she looked into Sir John's red face and then modestly down at her plate. "I've a remarkable ear for languages."

"So it would seem," the duke said.

Eventually, Sir John's rigid countenance relaxed and he cleared his throat. "I should have known that any woman you took an interest in, Your Grace, would be an unusual one. I can only beg your pardon, Mrs. Waterstone and trust that we can become better acquainted."

In some confusion, Elizabeth turned to the duke who regarded her with his usual calm expression.

"He misjudged you, my dear." The duke wiped his mouth with a linen napkin, rose to his feet, and bowed to Elizabeth. "Perhaps you might be gracious enough to accept his apology and leave the no-doubt complicated explanations until later. I wish you to attend me in the study."

Elizabeth considered Sir John carefully. She didn't believe his attempt to placate her for a second. But she accepted his hand and the kiss he brushed over her knuckles with all the graciousness she could muster.

She followed the duke into his study and shut the door behind her. He was already seated behind his desk, his head bent over a pile of official-looking documents. His riding coat was black and cut by a master. An ebony pin surrounded by diamonds lay buried in the depths of his elaborately arranged cravat. The whiteness of his linen contrasted strongly with his raven hair and deep set silver eyes.

He spoke without looking up. "Did you enjoy your travels, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth smoothed her dark, serviceable skirts over her knees.

"Yes, indeed, Your Grace. Although I was sorry to lose the companionship of your daughter." She hesitated. "I promised to write to her. I should have asked for your permission to do so first."

His eyes lifted and his gaze lingered on her tightly clasped hands. "Of course, my dear. Why should it not be? And speaking of letters--" he tossed an envelope into her lap "--this came from your stepfather's house. I assume it will be an invitation to visit with your mother and half-sister. Let me know when you wish to use the carriage."

Elizabeth crushed the letter to her bosom and fought to find her voice. "I, I thought I was forbidden the house." The duke said nothing and she stared at him for a long while. "You did this for me, didn't you?"

"Why should you think that?"

Elizabeth leaned forward. "Because you are the only man with sufficient power to bend my stepfather to your will." She managed a tremulous smile as she tucked the letter into her pocket. "Thank you. ?I cannot tell you how much..."

The duke cut her off with a decisive wave of his hand. "Then don't. Consider my intervention as a business matter. If you are unhappy here, it will make my task much harder."

Elizabeth took in a deep breath. The duke could have had no idea how much he had set her mind at rest. She was deeply thankful that she would be able to oversee Michael's care without the need for subterfuge.

The duke put down his quill and linked his hands together in front of him. "Are you still set on our arrangement?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, Your Grace, in fact, I'm beginning to think it might not be so arduous after all. I've no difficulty enjoying your kisses. They are quite pleasant and I must confess that you perform them rather well."

"I'm so glad I've amused you." He continued to study her. "I entertain high hopes that you will continue to enjoy what I will teach you next."

He came around the desk and sat on the front edge of it. His boots bore such a high polish that Elizabeth could see her reflection in them. "If you permit, I think we should continue the masquerade of your being a widowed relative of mine. I've no wish for my staff to know any differently and it suits our purpose if the ton gossips about your extended presence here."

He smiled slightly at her puzzled expression. "Widows are allowed a lot more freedom to take lovers than young unmarried girls. No one would be surprised if we decided to form a liaison."