Free My Dark Duke by Elyse Huntington Page B

up in her parent’s cheeks, ‘I do admit that I find some enjoyment in his company.’
    The duchess sighed. ‘Alethea, you will be the death of me, I swear. Just please, I beg of you, do not allow yourself to be caught in a compromising position with Trent. Because then you will certainly have no choice in the matter of marriage.’
    â€˜I promise, Mother.’ There was little likelihood of that occurring, and besides, they were both sensible individuals. She did not intend to find herself in a situation where she would be forced to wed, and she was sure Trent did not wish that either.
    â€˜Lady Alethea, the Duke of Trent is in the foyer awaiting your company.’ James shook his head faintly at the sound of the Sinclairs’ butler’s haughty tone. James couldn’t hold back a smile at the lady’s reply.
    â€˜Thank you, Thompson. Oh, do cheer up, won’t you? Anyone who looked at you would think you were about to attend my funeral. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t allow the duke to make any advances on my person.’
    â€˜Lady Alethea!’ The butler’s shocked reply made James smile as she appeared in the foyer laughing gaily.
    James felt his breath leave his body in one sweep at his first sight of her. It was no wonder, really. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Today, she was attired in another blue gown – this time Prussian blue, if he wasn’t mistaken. The riding gown and fitted coat were adorned with military-style buttons and cuffs, the severe cut softened by the lace-edged cravat tied in a pretty bow at her throat. The dark colour of her gown was flattering to her dark hair and pale complexion, although right at that moment, her unpowdered cheeks were lightly flushed with colour and her black-as-midnight eyes sparkled with laughter.
    She was utterly magnificent.
    Any man would be honoured to have her grace his side. He suddenly wanted to be that man. Permanently. But now was not the time to ruminate on such a thought. He straightened up his already straight posture and bowed. ‘Lady Alethea.’
    â€˜Your Grace.’ She sank down into a curtsy.
    â€˜I see that your groom is waiting with your mare.’ James stood back and let her precede him through the front door.
    â€˜Yes, I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me.’ She looked earnestly up at him, the blue feathers in her black, wide-brimmed hat waving gently in the breeze. ‘You were very prompt on the last occasion.’
    â€˜You have excellent recall. I do endeavour to be on time. I suppose it was something that was drummed into me at an early age.’ Beaten was the more appropriate term, but it wasn’t something that one shared with a lady one was courting. Or even if the lady became one’s wife. He hadn’t thought that he had exhibited his thoughts in any way, but his companion’s eyebrows drew together.
    â€˜Your Grace, is something the matter?’ She placed her gloved hand on his arm, concern reflected in her eyes.
    He forced a smile as he looked at her. ‘No, no, nothing is wrong.’ He put his hand over hers and suddenly stilled. He didn’t know how, or even why, but even through two layers of material, he felt something ignite at the touch of their hands. He knew that she, too, must have felt the same jolt, because her mouth parted in surprise. That mouth with its perfect bow-shaped top lip and luscious lower lip that he longed to possess.
    A discreet cough, presumably from the butler, interrupted the moment and James cleared his throat, stepping back. Lady Alethea blinked and quickly turned to her groom. Without a word, the servant extended his cupped hands and she put her left foot on them, then, grasping the pommel, sprang up into the side saddle. The duke was still standing in the same spot when she looked down at him.
    â€˜Are you coming, Your Grace?’
    Despite himself, he laughed. No other woman had