Silence of Deceit: A Bow Street Duchess Mystery (A Romantic Regency Historical Mystery) (Bow Street Duchess Mystery Series Book 3) by Cara Devlin

Author:Cara Devlin [Devlin, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2023-04-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Eleven

At the first blush of dawn, Hugh gave up on sleep. The posting inn was a flurry of activity as the sun brimmed the treetops of the small village of Southby Green, and after his morning ablutions, he entered the stable yard. Carrigan was up and preparing the duchess’s coach. The driver looked like he’d bedded down in a pile of hay for the night, his clothing rumpled and hat askew. He tugged the brim and straightened a bit when he caught sight of Hugh.

“I suspect you’ll arrive in Cheltham by nightfall,” Hugh said. The village was one of the southernmost in Northumberland, and where Shadewell would be found.

“That is the plan,” Carrigan replied.

Hugh had a plan of his own. He’d thought it over during the long hours spent lying on his back, staring at the water-stained plaster ceiling, the taste of the duchess still on his tongue.

Since departing the alcove outside room three, his body had fluctuated between cringing with remorse and tightening in lust. He’d never intended for it to happen, but when Audrey poked her finger into his chest to chastise him, the barrier he’d erected around himself whenever she was near had pierced as easily as a soap bubble. Like an unpolished green buck, his lips had crashed against hers, his tongue practically invading her mouth, seeking out the promise of pleasure cut off at the knees in August. And had they not been intruded upon by the maid, Hugh was certain he would have dragged Audrey to his room like some single-minded brute. What’s worse, from her startled but yielding response, she would have gone willingly. He’d spent the night half grateful for the maid’s timing, and half incensed by it.

The near kiss in Hertfordshire should have never happened. It had been a mistake, a misstep. This realized kiss had been pure idiocy. A self-inflicted wound. Hugh ground his molars, swallowed his frustration, and focused on Audrey’s devoted driver. He’d barely explained his proposal to Carrigan when the duchess and her maid rounded the corner of the building and entered the stable yard, dressed and ready for travel.

Audrey slowed when she saw Hugh and her driver standing together. A fine blush stained the apples of her cheeks, but she firmed her jaw and increased her speed toward the carriage.

“As we have the same destination, and neither of us will concede to returning to London, I suggest we travel together. There is no reason we should try to outrun each other,” Hugh said by way of greeting.

The duchess, while always beautiful, looked especially alluring as she quizzed him with a skeptical look. Her dark blue eyes were still sleepy, as if she had not rested well during the night either.

“In my carriage?” she asked with barely concealed alarm.

He stiffened his shoulders, guessing the direction of her concern. Surely, she had spent the last many hours poring over his graceless kiss and how she regretted being subjected to it.

“I will ride with Carrigan,” he said, “and will leave my phaeton here to be retrieved on our way back through.

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