The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) by Devlin, Barbara (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📕

wished she could control her reaction to him, but he reached through her defenses to touch her, despite her best efforts to contain him. Perhaps that was why she struggled with her decision to marry him.

There was a peculiar sort of intimacy to uncertainty.

Nestled deep in the dark recesses of her mind, like a foreign invasion, indecision took root, infecting and undermining her confidence in all other aspects of her life. Apprehension lingered, festered, and poisoned the otherwise innocuous facets of her existence, until persistent hesitation plagued every part of her world, such that she second-guessed something as simple as whether to eat strawberry jam or orange marmalade on her scone. In some respects, she scarcely knew herself, anymore, due to the disquieting emotions that wreaked havoc on her senses, and that frightened her most.

And it was all because of a man.

Her man.

“Lady Arabella, this is a welcome surprise.” As always, Anthony greeted her with his customary charm, which put her at ease, and she rolled her shoulders. Then he arched a brow and peered at Lord Beaulieu. “Although something tells me our meeting is more by design than chance.”

“I beg your pardon.” With an angsty expression, which didn’t fool her for an instant, Lord Beaulieu clutched a hand to his chest. “My only motive was to enjoy a relaxed night in the pleasure gardens of Vauxhall. And since when do I dictate the earl of Ainsworth’s schedule? How could I have predicted Lady Arabella’s attendance?”

“Me thinks thou dost protest too much.” So handsome in a rich blue coat trimmed in old gold, Anthony smirked as he took her hand in his and kissed her gloved knuckles. “But you mistake my meaning, because mine is an observation, not a complaint.” To Arabella, he said, “Shall we tour the grove, my lady?”

“I would like that above all things, my lord.” Together, they stepped from the supper-box, and she clutched his arm. “Can we visit the acrobats?”

“Just a minute.” Patience snapped her fingers. “You cannot venture forth without a chaperone.”

“A chaperone?” Lord Beaulieu scowled. “Are they or are they not affianced? What good is a betrothal, if you cannot enjoy your bride-to-be’s company, unreservedly?”

“They are, but until they speak the vows, Lady Arabella must be accompanied by an escort.” Patience wrinkled her nose, and Arabella laughed. “Despite the engagement, we cannot risk her reputation.”

“Upon my word, but what damage can Lord Rockingham do?” With an air of disgust mixed with arrogance, Lord Beaulieu shifted his weight. “The man has but one hand.”

“And I suppose that is quite enough, for a rake of his stature and experience.” Like a high-born debutante, Patience assumed a position that left Lord Beaulieu no choice but to abide her command, and Arabella admired her friend’s strength. “Or do you claim Lord Rockingham suffers impotence, Lord Beaulieu?”

“How dare you cast aspersions on Lord Rockingham’s abilities to satisfy his future bride.” Beaulieu sniffed. “And I wager he remains as skilled as he was before the war.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Huffing a breath, Anthony shook his head. “Shall we?”

While Lord Beaulieu and Patience argued the finer but questionable points of male supremacy from a discreet distance, Lord Rockingham led Arabella toward the Grand South Walk, where they joined the promenade.

“It is a beautiful night, is it not?” As Arabella navigated the crush, she studied the tense lines about his eyes and the firm set of his jaw. When someone burst into laughter, Anthony flinched, and she squeezed his arm. “It is all right. Just a few rambunctious revelers. Do you often partake of Vauxhall?”

“How long have you been conspiring with my friends?” At his query, she drew up short and sought a response to placate him. “And don’t insult me by feigning ignorance, because we both know you are anything but ignorant.”

“Not long, but you are not supposed to know of their involvement, beyond what they discussed with you, however obvious it appears, and I would not for the life of me try to make sense of their logic. Indeed, I could not if I wanted to, because they are more than a little eccentric for matchmakers. However, for their sakes, I ask you not to apprise them that you are aware of their attempts at matchmaking, given they dearly want to support us.” When they neared a tall hedgerow, he tugged her behind the shrubbery. While she should have been shocked by his behavior, she was not, given their previous assignation. And she wanted to be alone with him. “They care for you, a great deal, my lord. In some respects, I believe you give them hope, because if you succeed, they think they can too. And theirs is a harmless endeavor. What damage can they do?”

“You think this harmless?” he asked in a low voice, as he drew her near, which gave her a chill. “Because all manner of naughty thoughts occur to me, at the moment. And you might be surprised by what my band of brothers in arms can achieve, when they act in concert.”

“They want you to be happy.” She shivered, when his breath caressed the crest of her ear. “Is that so wrong?”

“If that is their aim and naught more, then I support their involvement.” Given the setting sun, the dark, serpentine walk afforded privacy when he pulled her close, and his eyes flared. Just his touch warmed her from top to toes. “Because, although I am not entirely certain about our union, and I have not yielded the fight, I am leaning in your favor, my lady. I see no way to avoid our wedding.”

“Well, at least you retain your usual charm.” He chuckled, and she brushed the forever drooping lock of hair from his forehead. “And I share your position, given I have no real choice in the matter.”

“I know that, and despite our mutual reservations, I would make you happy.” Flames flickered in his heated stare as he tightened his hold about her waist, and she rested her