Stolen Encounters With The Duchess. Julia Justiss

control over her; without the dictates of a husband to prevent it, she could involve herself more in the wider world.

      Just talking with Davie, she knew, would help her do that. With each street that brought their rendezvous closer, her excitement and anticipation grew.

      * * *

      At last the carriage arrived, Faith so impatient she could hardly wait for the vehicle to stop before climbing down and hurrying into the establishment. She spotted Davie immediately, seated in an alcove on the far side of the room. The appreciation on his face as she approached his table made her glad she’d decided to wear the new grey gown that flattered her figure and showed her complexion to advantage.

      ‘Duchess, what a pleasant surprise,’ he said, rising and giving her a bow. ‘How lovely you look!’

      ‘How kind you are, Mr Smith,’ she replied. ‘Though as a mother of three, I’m afraid I’ve lost the bloom of youth you probably remember.’

      ‘Nonsense, it would take more than a brace of boys to erase that,’ he replied, helping her to a seat. ‘Tea? Or would you prefer ices?’

      ‘Tea, please.’

      After sending the waiter off for refreshments, he looked back to study her.

      ‘You do look rested. Truly fresh as a young girl, and not at all like the venerable mother of three.’

      She laughed. ‘I’d hoped for more children, but with three boys making the succession secure, Ashedon...lost interest.’ Or had he kept mistresses all along, and she’d just been too stupid to notice? ‘Somehow, growing up with a brother and all those sisters, I expected when I had a family of my own, I’d be surrounded by children. But as their mother, I spend much of the day in my world, and they in the nursery, in theirs.’

      Davie chuckled. ‘Unlike growing up in a farm family, where the children are underfoot all day, learning from their mamas or doing chores for their papas. Close even at night, stuffed as they are in the loft just above the main room, like sausage in a casing! Maybe you should have been a simple farmer’s wife.’

      ‘Maybe I should have.’

      She looked up into his eyes, those kind eyes she remembered so well—and suddenly, saw a flash of heat there, so intense and sudden it shook her.

      It shook her even more to feel an answering heat from deep within. Suddenly she was brought back to last night, where despite her fatigue and misery, she’d been intensely aware of being held against his chest.

      His broad, solid chest. The tall, rangy youth she’d known had grown into a tall, well-muscled, physically impressive man. Not fitting the wasp-waisted, whip-thin dandy profile now so popular among society’s gentlemen, he was instead big, sturdy, and solid, built more like a...a medieval knight, or a boxer. Strong, powerful, and imposing.

      For a time, while he held her, she’d felt—safe, and at peace. If she were still the naïve and trusting girl she’d once been, she might even have said ‘cherished’.

      But that was merely an illusion born of need and wishful thinking.

      Still, she hadn’t mistaken the desire she’d just seen in his eyes before he masked it, nor the physical response he evoked in her. That unexpected attraction would...complicate a renewal of their friendship, yet at the same time, she was fiercely glad of it. The realisation that he wanted her was a balm to her battered self-esteem, reviving a sense she’d nearly lost of herself as a desirable woman.

      She cleared her throat nervously. Welcome as it was, the unexpected sensual tension humming between them was so unexpected, and she had so little experience dealing with it, she felt suddenly awkward. ‘Thank you for meeting me,’ she said at last. ‘I was so relieved not to have to ride in the Park today and feel all those eyes on me, while the Dowager harangued.’

      ‘I suppose that’s the price of being a Duchess. You will always be the focus of attention, wherever you go and whatever you do.’

      She wrinkled her nose. ‘Yes, and it’s so distasteful. I don’t know why that fact didn’t occur to me before I wed a duke, but it didn’t. I’ve never enjoyed the attention.’ She sighed. ‘Especially as Ashedon and his women provided so much scandal for society to watch my reaction to.’

      His jaw tightened and a fierce look came over his face before he burst out, ‘Your husband was a fool! Even if I shouldn’t say it.’

      Gratified, she smiled sadly. ‘I didn’t mind him being a fool. I just minded that he never loved me. But I didn’t come today to whine about poor, neglected little me. I want to hear about something of real importance. Tell me of your work! I always hoped we would maintain our friendship, but after the wedding, and with you at Oxford...I do know that, with Sir Edward and my cousin Nicky’s support, you were elected MP from Hazelwick shortly after leaving university. And I seem to remember something about “Hadley’s Hellions”? What was that?’

      He chuckled. ‘Fortunately for a commoner like me, I met Giles Hadley soon after arriving at Oxford. As I imagine you know, although he’s Viscount Lyndlington, until very recently he’d been estranged from his father, the earl. After growing up in an isolated cottage, he didn’t form friendships with anyone from the ton, bonding instead when he was sent to Eton with other outsiders—Ben Tawny, the natural son of Viscount Chilford, and Christopher Lattimar, son of Lord Vraux.

      ‘That name I do know,’ she said. ‘One of the “Vraux Miscellany”, siblings supposedly all fathered by different men?’

      Davie nodded. ‘With those backgrounds, you can understand why all of them felt that society and government needed reforming, with the power to change not left in the tight-fisted hands of a few whose only qualification for the job was that their families had always held it.’

      ‘A view of reform you always supported,’ she inserted, recalling their spirited discussions of government and politics that long-ago summer.

      ‘I did. When Giles stumbled upon me, reading alone in one of the pubs, he immediately drew me into his circle. First, out of kindness for a commoner whom he knew would never be invited into any of the aristocratic groups. But once we began discussing what we hoped to accomplish once we left university, we soon discovered we aspired to the same goals.’

      ‘And those aspirations, in the eyes of the powerful, were enough for you to be labelled hellions?’ she guessed.

      ‘They were bad enough, but we didn’t win that label until some of the dons, churchmen all, discovered we aimed to eliminate the clergy’s seats in the Lords. An intention, they felt, that could only have been inspired by the devil.’

      She tilted her head at him. ‘Was it only that? Or was the name partly earned for exploits more scandalous than you care to mention to my innocent ears?’

      Had he been a hellion? A little thrill went through her as she studied him from under the cover of her lashes. He was certainly virile enough to excite a woman’s desire. Had he cut a swathe through the ladies of Oxford?

      She found herself feeling jealous of any female he’d favoured with his amorous attentions.

      ‘Having served with the army in India,’ his words recalled her, ‘Ben was something of a rabble-rouser, and Christopher was always a favourite with the ladies. Giles and I generally didn’t have enough blunt to kick up too many larks, one of the reasons we pooled our resources and began rooming together early on. We helped each other, too, once it came time to campaign. As you may know, your brother-in-law, the Marquess, gave me his generous support when I stood for the seat under Sir Edward’s control in Hazelwick, for which I’m grateful.’

      ‘How could Nicky, or anyone else, listen to you explain your views, and not be persuaded? You certainly convinced me that summer! How close are you to accomplishing your aims?’

      ‘A new Parliament convened in June, filled overwhelmingly with supporters of reform. We’re very hopeful that by later this autumn, we’ll finally get a bill passed.’ He gave her a