The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) Devlin, Barbara (that summer book .TXT) 📖

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It was late in the afternoon when Arabella hosted Patience for tea in the back parlor. While she tried to present an attentive posture, she could not stop thinking about last night, when she kissed her fiancé, in Papa’s study. What had she been thinking, behaving in such a brazen manner? Of course, Anthony voiced no complaints when she ravished him. Rather, he encouraged her, as he—

“That is enough.” Patience folded her arms, and Arabella snapped to attention. “What happened with the gorgeous but tortured Lord Rockingham, because you have not stopped blushing since I got here, and I will have a full account.”

“It was nothing.” That was partly true, because it was nothing like Arabella had ever experienced. “I provided comfort, because he was tormented by his war service. Beyond that, there is naught more to tell.”

“And pigs fly.” Arching a brow, Patience frowned. “Now, give over, else I am not your friend, because you do not trust me with your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Oh, all right.” Again, Arabella’s cheeks burned. “We kissed.”

“I knew it.” Bouncing, Patience squealed. “And?”

“And that is all.” Given the intimacy of the exchange, Arabella struggled to form the words to describe what she felt. And, oh, what she felt in his embrace. “Really, it was over before it began and hardly worth note.”

“And if you tell yourself that enough, you just might convince yourself, but you could never fool me.” As always, Patience exhibited profuse amounts of the trait for which she was named. “What was it like? I once heard that a good kiss could curl your toes. Did he curl your toes?”

“In truth, he curled everything.” Reliving the moment, Arabella collapsed amid the throw pillows and sighed. “And then…and then…” She pressed a palm to her forehead and closed her eyes. “And then I returned the favor.”

“You did what?” At Patience’s outburst, Arabella started. “You kissed him?”

“Yes.” Arabella lurched upright. “Believe me, I am just as shocked by the revelation. Bless my soul, I know not what came over me, but I could not help myself.” In her mind, she replayed the events and sighed. “There we were, alone, in Papa’s study. It was dark, save the light from the hearth, and Anthony was distraught. He was emotionally charged with a ferocity that could rival the sun, and I could not resist him. Indeed, I didn’t want to resist him, but I found myself leading the charge, to my unutterable amazement, and I savored it.”

“And that surprises you?” Patience tittered. “Given your propensity for exploration is well known, and the fact that Lord Rockingham poses new, fertile territory for inspection, I wonder what took you so long to venture forth, my friend.”

“Trust me, I found my feet, given I am rather more than seven, but that is not the end of the rendezvous.” Arabella glanced over her shoulder, to ensure she enjoyed the privacy of the back parlor. Then she leaned forward and whispered, “He caressed my breast, and I allowed it.”

“You didn’t.” Patience blinked, as Arabella nodded. “Upon my word, you quite take my breath away.”

“Believe me, it had the same effect on me.” Exhaling, Arabella reflected on the sweet memory. “Even though he fondled me through my gown and my chemise, I swear his touch scorched my flesh, and I am in a quandary.”

“How so, because I would think your tryst mollified your concerns?” Patience grinned. “Clearly, you two are compatible. Have we not always said that if we are to wed, we will do it right and marry for love?”

“We have, but we both know physical attraction does not equate love.” And that nagging distinction kept Arabella from celebrating her impending union, given Anthony’s protestations.

“But it is a very important start.” Ever the strategist, Patience always identified the advantage of any given situation. “And it is not as if you have any choice, because you must take a husband. As I remarked, last night, you would do well to opt for the candidate who relies on you, and that is Lord Rockingham, in spades.”

Even Arabella could not deny her friend’s position.

Just then, Mama rushed into the room.

“Arabella, you have callers, and I put them in the drawing room, but I am meeting with the cook, concerning the menu for your wedding breakfast.” To Patience, Mama said, “Miss Wallace, do you mind acting as chaperone, in my stead?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Patience stood, and Arabella followed suit.

“Who is it, Mama?” Arabella smoothed the skirts of her pale blue morning dress. In the mirror, she adjusted the fichu about her bodice, which preserved her modesty. “As I am anticipating no other guests.”

“I gather they are acquaintances of your fiancé.” Mama snapped her fingers. “Now, don’t dawdle, because I taught you better.”

“Yes, Mama.” In the hall, Arabella glanced at Patience. “This is a curious development. I wonder who it is and what they want?”

“Only one way to find out.” Patience claimed Arabella’s hand, and they veered left, in the foyer, to arrive at the double-door entry of the drawing room.

What they confronted bore more than a passing resemblance to a comedy of errors, because a group of imposing men she recognized from last night’s receiving line argued amongst themselves.

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this hair-brained scheme.” One estimable specimen scowled. “We promised Rockingham our support. We said naught of enacting a plot to bring him to the altar.”

That comment captured her attention.

“I must concur with Warrington.” Another complained. “While I am more than willing to help Rockingham, I am no machinating mama, and I refuse to reduce myself to such humiliation, because there is only so much indignity a man can endure.”

While the fascinating collective, some featuring obvious war injuries, squabbled, Arabella elbowed Patience. “What are we to make of this development?”

“I am not sure.” Patience snickered. “But it appears our presence is not required, because they have not even acknowledged us, yet I would know the purpose of their visit, given their heated debate.