The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) (7 page)

“I see.” She remained staring at Dillie.
Hell.
This was going to be bad. Dillie wasn’t used to this sort of scrutiny. Having been raised in a large family, she’d probably had to fight for every scrap of attention. He wasn’t certain how long she could maintain her unaffected manner. The
eep
was on the tip of her tongue. It would take nothing for her to blurt it out. “Heard you also remained in town after the season.”

“Yes, with Uncle George. I stayed behind with him to close up the house. He’s also been training me to assist him in his medical matters.” She clasped her hands together, no doubt to keep them from shaking. She smiled and stopped talking. Good. She was a smart girl and knew to keep her responses short and sweet. She wouldn’t offer conversation that could be turned against her.

Ian shot her a sympathetic glance, as though to say, “You can do this.”

She swallowed hard. She wasn’t a practiced liar.

Phoebe took a bite of her treacle scone and slowly chewed, her gaze still intently fixed on Dillie. “Have you done it yet?”

“It?” Her frantic gaze shot to him, saved by the fortunate fact that Eloise was now seated beside him and Phoebe might believe she’d turned to Eloise for guidance. He knew what was racing through Dillie’s mind. She was thinking of their kiss. She was thinking of his naked body. “Forgive me, I didn’t understand the question. What is it that I’m supposed to have done?”

“Tended to any of your uncle’s patients, of course. What did you think I was talking about?”

Ian could see that Dillie’s mind had frozen at the very moment she needed to think fast. Had Phoebe already spoken to George? What had he answered? “I’m sure whatever Miss Farthingale did was under her uncle’s supervision. Of course, I can’t imagine he’d ever leave her alone with any of his patients, or admit it to you if he had. She’s merely in training. Not trained yet.”

Dillie shot him a smile of gratitude. Obviously relieved, she raised her cup to her lips and drank.

However, Phoebe wasn’t finished with her yet. “I see. Can’t be trusted on your own.”

Dillie swallowed hard, the hot liquid obviously searing her throat as it went down too fast. “Not in the least.”

Hell
. That came out very wrong.

“I mean, not medically.” She began to fidget. “Otherwise, I can be trusted. Of course I can be trusted. Why would I not?”

“You tell me. You’re the one who seems concerned about it.” Though she and Phoebe were seated across from each other, separated by a tea table, Dillie must have felt as if the harridan were breathing down her neck.

She was in trouble here, but knew better than to glance at him again. She turned to Daisy instead, silently begging for help. The Farthingale sisters were close, always supported each other. Ian wondered how it felt. He’d experienced support on the battlefield, could always rely on Gabriel and Graelem to guard his back. There were other men he trusted as well. But that was during wartime, saving England and the Continent from Napoleon’s army.

He’d never felt the soft, nurturing support of a woman.

Hell, he’d never felt any family support.

Daisy sprang into action. “Ah, I see you’ve finished your tea, Lady Withnall. How did you like it? Isn’t the oriental blend delightful? It’s a new one I discovered in a local tea shop. Oh, and I discovered the quaintest bake shop as well. Dillie, I have a special treat for you.”

“You do?” Dillie smiled her thanks at the change in conversation.

Ian stifled a grin as he watched her. She was feeling more relaxed now that Daisy had come to her rescue. Dillie popped a bite of sardine and watercress sandwich in her mouth, obviously didn’t like it, and then lifted the cup to her lips to wash down the hideous combination. “Mmm, good,” she muttered unconvincingly.

She took another gulp of her tea just as her sister added, “This little bake shop makes the most delicious hot cross buns. I ordered them special just for you. Here, try one. Don’t they look tempting? So firm and golden.”

Dillie choked on her tea.

Ian jumped to his feet to help her, positioning himself to block her from Phoebe’s view.
Bloody hell!
The girl wore her expression on her sleeve. She was thinking of
his
naked buns, and it took all his control to keep from bursting into laughter.

He grabbed the cup from her trembling hand before she spilled its remaining contents onto her lap.

Eloise came to his side to help. “Oh, Dillie! You know that sardines don’t agree with you. Poor dear. You ought to have stayed with the sweets. I know just the shop Daisy mentioned. I’ll invite you over next week.” She stared sympathetically at Dillie. “Then you can taste
my
golden buns.”

Dillie coughed again. Gagged actually, as the mix of tea and sardines that had lodged in her throat now threatened to heave upward. Thankfully, she managed to hold it all down. Almost. A droplet of tea had dribbled down her chin. Ian wiped it off with his thumb.

She was an adorable mess.

He still wanted to draw her into his arms and kiss her into forever.

Daisy and Gabriel were now standing over him, eager to help. Daisy squeezed between him and Dillie, and leaned in close to her sister. “Dillie, are you all right?”

Dillie responded with a sneeze into the handkerchief Ian had just withdrawn from his breast pocket and stuck in front of her face.

Daisy and Gabriel took a quick step back. “I’ll fetch you a glass of apple cider,” Daisy said.

“I’ll go with you,” Gabriel added, hastily following her out of the room as though the thought of being left alone with Dillie was as appealing as cleaning Ivy’s soiled bottom.

Ian knelt beside Dillie as she sneezed into his handkerchief again. “I’m so sorry!” Her eyes were now tearing and her face was red hot.

“It’s those dratted sardines,” Eloise said sympathetically.

Dillie nodded furiously. “You know what they do to me. And I think there’s too much pepper on them!”

Curious
. He’d eaten one of those sandwiches and had encountered no such problem. He’d also seen Dillie pepper her food before and suffer no ill consequences. Was she truly suffering, or was the little actress faking? If so, she was doing a damn good job of it.

She sneezed again.

Maybe not faking. Her face was as red as a cranberry and her breaths were still shaky. Perhaps she was genuinely in distress. He frowned and moved closer.

She looked vulnerable and scared, seeming to plead for his help not only in distracting Phoebe but also in helping calm her down. Of course, he would do all in his power. Her breaths were erratic. From the pepper and sardines? His heart tightened. “Dillie, close your eyes and breathe slowly.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” She’d found her voice, which meant she was getting air into her lungs. He kept his tone calm and even. “That’s it. Here, take my hand. You see, I have you. I won’t let you go until you’re feeling better.”

“Promise?”

He nodded. “I promise.”

Phoebe was still intently eyeing the pair of them. Fortunately, Dillie was too distraught to notice. “The mention of hot cross buns seemed to set her off,” Phoebe mused.

“No, it was the sardines,” Dillie rasped back, but cast him a pained glance, for she knew that
he
knew perfectly well what those buns represented.

He cast Dillie a soft smile.

She groaned. “Must we spend the entire afternoon discussing what I do or do not like to eat? It seems some people have nothing better to do than spy on others and report their findings to everyone who will listen.”

She’d spoken to him in a whisper, but since Phoebe had the ears of a vampire bat, she heard the remark as well. “You’re a debutante now,” she chided. “Everyone will scrutinize you.”

Dillie looked as though she were about to burst into tears again.

When Daisy returned with the glass of apple cider and a damp cloth, Ian couldn’t seem to let Dillie go. Instead of stepping aside and allowing Daisy to help her sister, he took the cloth from her hands and began to dab it across Dillie’s lips.

Dillie groaned again as she felt his hand against her cheek. The others would mistake it for embarrassment, but he knew Dillie was responding to his touch. He wasn’t surprised. He was also responding to her nearness, her softness.

This was bad.

He eased away and handed the cloth back to Daisy, silently watching as she turned fuss and feathers over her sister.

Phoebe shook her head and sighed.

Ian straightened to his full height, worried that the meddlesome harridan was about to insult Dillie now that she appeared to be calming down. Even though he considered Phoebe a friend, he’d haul her out of the house and toss her to the sidewalk if she dared utter a cross word.

But Phoebe merely let out another sigh. “You poor, poor dear. I now understand why you’re the last of the Farthingales to marry. I’m worried about you, gel. All those years of training haven’t done you much good.”

Eloise came to her defense. “Now see here, Phoebe. Dillie is delightful. She’ll have a dozen eligible bachelors swooning at her feet within the fortnight. Mark my words. You haven’t caught her at her best just now.”

Phoebe turned to Ian. “What about you, Edgeware?”

He arched an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“You seem interested in the girl. You came to her rescue—”

“As we all did.”

Her sharp nose wiggled. “But—”

“Lady Withnall, please,” Dillie interceded. “Haven’t I humiliated myself sufficiently? I’ll readily admit that I’m a duckling among swans. I’ve never been anywhere without one or more of my sisters close at hand. I don’t do well on my own, as you can see. I’m miserable enough about it. Please don’t let the world know.”

Ian had rarely seen any softness in Phoebe Withnall. The woman seemed to thrive on the fear and pain of others, so he was quite surprised when the old harridan actually smiled at Dillie. Not one of her gloating, triumphant smiles, but a tender, indulgent one. “My dear, your secret is quite safe with me.”

Dillie let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

The old harridan turned to Eloise. “I think we must be off. Lady Dowling is expecting us. She’s eager for my news about her husband. That wine-soaked old sot. She’s better off without him.” She tipped her head at Ian. Said nothing. Just smiled. That worried him. “Daisy. Gabriel. Come see us off.”

Which meant she’d purposely left Ian alone with Dillie.

Bad.

She knew Dillie liked him. Did she realize just how much he liked Dillie?

***

“Crumpets.”
Dillie gazed at Ian, her heart beating wildly and eyes still wide in panic. He, the bounder, looked magnificently composed and controlled. “No good will come of this. I made an utter fool of myself.”

“You were fine. Even Lady Withnall likes you, and she doesn’t like anybody.”

She rolled her eyes. “How can you say that?”

“What would you like me to say? That you allowed an infant to get the better of you, then allowed a woman no bigger than that infant to scare you into a sneezing frenzy?”

She had hoped he would tell her that he admired the way she’d handled herself, that he’d ached watching her hold Ivy and was proud of the way she’d handled Lady Withnall. He wouldn’t say any of it, for it wasn’t true.

She had behaved like an idiot. She had a welt on her chin from Ivy’s teething. Her hair was about to tumble about her shoulders once again. And she’d suffered a sneezing fit after accidentally biting down on those sardines, her reaction chasing host, hostess, and guests from Daisy’s parlor. Had she not been so distracted, she would have seen what she was about to put into her mouth and never taken a bite out of it.

Only Ian remained beside her now, no doubt out of a misguided sense of duty. “How’s your breathing? Feeling any better?”

“Much better.” She wanted him to take her into his arms and protect her from her own idiocy.

She was such a coward!

She let out a light, laughing groan. “I will admit, I’ve had better moments.”

“You’ll do better next time. In truth, you scared the hell out of me. What happened? You were in serious distress.”

She sighed. “I panicked. But you were quite heroic in coming to my rescue.”

His haunted gaze bore into her, no sign of teasing humor, as though he’d seriously risk his life to save her if it ever came to that.

Oh, crumpets again!
“Lady Withnall scares me. I was so afraid I’d let slip what happened last November, I accidentally bit down on the sardines. I can’t abide them and they don’t like me either. I acted purely out of fear. Unbridled terror, if you must know the truth.”

“If it’s any consolation, I was quaking in my boots, too.” He grinned and dabbed at her chin with his handkerchief again. Then he took her hand and held it in his warm grasp. “There, all better. Well, almost.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by
almost
?”

He tweaked her nose. “Your hair’s a little out of place. A lot, actually.”

“Oh, not again!” Her hands shot to her hair. Most of the pins she’d stuck back in place after Ivy had pulled them out were now dangling amid her curls again.

Ian stopped her as she tried to put them back in place. “Let me,” he said in a husky rumble that stole her breath away. The pulse at the base of her throat began to pound as he leaned in close. Oh, he smelled so good, the scent of sandalwood so pure and fresh against his skin.

She smelled of sardines, spittle, and drool.

“You smell of peaches and heaven,” he said with a soft chuckle, easily reading her thoughts. She’d have to work on masking her expressions better. Men liked mysterious women, right? In any event, she couldn’t let Ian know just how much she liked him.

Her heart began to flutter as he took out all her pins and slowly ran his hands through her unbound hair.
Oh, that feels sinfully good.
But she couldn’t let him know that either.

“Your hair’s soft as silk. Seems a shame to put it back up.”

She was a grown woman. She couldn’t go about with her hair wild and unbound, though she often did so when at Coniston. There was something about the pure country air and unspoiled lakes and hillsides that freed one from society’s restrictive conventions. “Help me pin the last of it up, you wretch. You promised you would.”