The Improper Companion

Chapter 9

Once she was sure that the Duke had left, Fiona landed on the bench on her bottom.

Clearly this had been a mistake. A very large—enormous error of judgement on both their parts. And she was just as responsible for it as the Duke.

Fiona had never been kissed before and she'd never felt like kissing anyone either. But when the Duke had bent closer—just a little, she'd wanted to kiss him. She'd laughed with him...and what a lovely laugh he had—it had made her feel special.

He kissed the way he seemed to do everything else...passionately, thoroughly and sincerely. The mere touch of his lips against hers had made her want to climb atop his lap and never leave.

He'd kissed her and he'd whispered her name. And he'd called her Fiona, not Miss Butterworth the way he usually did.

That had to mean something, didn't it?

Hope unfurled in her bosom but she squelched it ruthlessly.

He'd said that this wouldn't happen again which meant he didn't want this to turn into anything more.

It meant that he'd kissed her and then remembered that he had a fiancé waiting for him. And he'd never jilt the daughter of a Duke for the impoverished one of a deceased vicar.

And he was probably in love with his Lady.

That thought brought a swift stab of pain. The pain brought on tears she hadn't known she'd been holding.

Fiona furiously wiped the dampness off her cheeks.

She had brought this upon herself, she chided herself. She had made the mistake of imagining a romance where there had never been scope for one.

She got up and slowly made her way outside the maze. Outside, she found the duchess awake, sipping tea.

"I apologise for being gone so long, your grace. I got lost in the maze."

"It's alright, people often get lost in there," the duchess eyed her shrewdly.

Fiona was positive the Duke hadn't told his mother of what had happened in there but the knowing way she was looking at her...

Oh she was being silly.

"It has grown windy, shall we go inside now?" Fiona asked, fussing with the Duchess's shawl.

"Yes."

Fiona was solemn the rest of the evening. And if the duchess noted her pensive mood, she made no comment on it.

Soon it began to rain and Fiona had to wait for it to let until she could leave. The duchess offered her carriage of course, but Fiona had declined. She didn't want to take any unnecessary favours.

And then it had grown too dark.

"I cannot possibly in good conscience let you go alone now!"

"I'll be fine, your grace. You worry needlessly."

"No, my decision is final. You cannot even take a carriage now, the roads are completely ruined and it would be foolish to risk travelling that path. You will simply have to stay here tonight. I shall ask Miss Perkins to prepare a room for you."

"But—"

"It is an order." The Duchess's expression was haughty, making Fiona swallow her protests.

"Then I do not really have a choice, do I?" Fiona grumbled and settled into her chair.

"Not one," she smiled smugly. "What about your grandmother? Will she be alright?"