She wasn’t fit for such a fine conveyance.
David removed his greatcoat from her shoulders and replaced
it with a dry blanket. He sat beside her, took her hands, and pulled the gloves
from them.
The driver closed the door. David reached into a compartment
near the braziers and retrieved a flask and a cup. He poured steaming liquid
from the flask into the cup and handed it to her.
She clutched it and more warmth soaked into her frigid
hands.
“Have a good deep drink of that.” David’s deep voice was
gentle. “Who was that man who handled you so roughly?” His terse tone made him
seem like a stranger again.
She clutched the silver cup. “He was my publisher.”
“Was?”
“He has just told me that he will not publish my works now.”
“Why not?”
“Because of that cartoon.”
David’s jaw tensed. A motion so brief, she almost missed it.
He tapped the cup. “Drink that.”
Jeanne lifted the cup to her lips and took a small sip. The
brisk tea tasted divine and she took a deeper drink. The sharp aftertaste of
brandy burnt her throat like fire and she struggled not to choke.
“Slowly,” he said. His expression softened.
Gradually, she drained the cup.
“Jeanne, you must allow me to furnish you with a house and
carriage. It is a larger matter than you or I. In order for me to be effective
politically, my reputation must without question be that of a man of honor and
breeding. If it is known that I allow my mistress to live in squalor, well then
I don’t appear very respectable, do I?”
“I think most people will assume that girl in the cartoon
was a passing fancy and not your regular mistress.”
“I don’t like to take chances with such matters.”
“I think you are using this whole matter to try and manipulate
me into accepting the house.”
“You’ve also become a target of my political opponents. The
cartoon makes that obvious. I would prefer if you were under my protection.”
“They have already done the worst possible thing they could
do to me. It’s too late for your protection now.”
He folded his arms over his chest and sat back. His
powerfully built frame seemed to dominate the carriage interior. “Any other
woman would jump at my offer. Why are you being so difficult?”
“I don’t want any obligations.”
“Who says anything about obligations?”
“All men place obligations on their help. You’re a man like
any other.”
“Well, they are certainly not any onerous obligations.”
“Oh, do tell.”
“Just Wednesdays. Perhaps the odd Saturday.”
“Ha! I knew it.”
“You cannot deny that we’ve had some lovely times together.”
“Had some lovely times, Your Grace,
had
.”
His handsome, distinguished features tightened. A mild
vexation. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Do not call me ‘Your Grace.’ Not while we’re alone like
this.” He drew his dark heavy brows tightly together. “I told you that I cared
for you.”
“You also said that you didn’t want to find out how much.”
“Circumstances forced me to discover just how much I do care
about you. How much I want you. I can give you a luxurious life.”
“I don’t need luxury.”
“All women adore luxury.”
“Well, I am different.”
“You’ve never had luxury, Jeanne. You may find you like it
very well.”
“That’s just the thing. If I have been able to get along without
luxury, why should I open myself up to being accustomed to it? To becoming a
slave to it?”
He stared at her as if she were some strange creature that
he needed to categorize. “What do you want?”
“I want peace, solitude, freedom.”
His features sharpened as if with irritation. “It would only
be an afternoon or two a week.”
“Yes, but you’ll try to dictate how I live.”
He seemed to freeze. To pause. Did he look guilty? Or was
that her imagination seeing what it feared to see?
“What the devil makes you think that I want to dictate how
you live?”
“Because you are already attempting to have your say.”
“I just want to see you comfortable and safe. Nothing more.”
“Nothing more? Are you sure?” She smiled at him, a teasing,
seductive smile. A smile she‘d never given anyone. He awoke the natural
temptress in her. She’d never dreamed she could be a temptress.
His eyes seemed to darken and he shifted in his seat. “Well,
if you are determined to be an authoress, I would like to have Mr. Packer find
you a better publisher. Someone who will have your best interests in mind and
who will help you develop your talent.”
“Do you see? I knew it. My mother was an artist. A far
better one than my father. But he insisted that he could develop her talent, if
only she would allow it.”
“I take it that didn’t work out well.”
“She ended up being his assistant, his servant, his slave.
His works never sold well. What might have happened had she been the one
allowed to follow her muse with the support of a constant helpmate?”
“But our situation is very different. I don’t want you to
cook, clean, or bear children for me. I just want one or two afternoons a
week.”
“Mistresses end up as unofficial wives all the time,
burdened with a litter of children.”
“I shall do my best to refrain from planting my seed in
you.”
“Accidents have been known to happen.”
“If they happen, I shall provide you with a staff to help
raise the child. I will give the child an inheritance. I am not an insensitive
man.”
“David, I am very tired and all this talk is giving me a
headache.”
“We shall be at my house soon.”
“Your house?”
“You cannot think I would simply drop you off at your
dismal, drafty little garret when you are dripping wet and shivering. I shall
see you taken care of tonight and my physician shall see you in the morning to
make sure you’re not going to take a fever from this night.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist. Now tell me, what is this publisher’s name, this
man who left you alone and without funds at the theatre.”
“That’s unimportant. It is all over.” She leaned back
against the seat and closed her eyes.
* * * *
At the soft click of an opening door, Jeanne awoke in with a
start. She’d always slept lightly ever since Papa’s illness. The bed was huge and
so soft, she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. Thick, velvet bed drapes
created darkness. Last night, David had put her into the care of Mrs. Alligood.
The woman had stripped her and then prepared a steaming bath scented with
rosemary oil. They’d given her a huge mug of heated, spiced wine and she’d
grown so sleepy.
The bed curtains parted and light filled the space. Mrs.
Alligood smiled at her. “Good, you’re awake. His Grace has sent some clothing
for you and he wants you ready within the hour.”
“Ready?”
“Dr. Jones is coming to have a look at you. And then I
believe his Grace expects you to go out with him this evening.”
“Oh.” Jeanne slid from the bed and had to hold the too-long
nightdress up as she walked towards the wardrobe. Two gowns hung there. One
white with tiny blue flowers, a broad blue ribbon sash, and lace trim. A day
dress. She touched the fine, India muslin. The other was a rich blue velvet
evening gown with a whisper thin overdress of darkest blue lace. The bodice
bore elaborate embroidery and was encrusted with pearls and sparkling clear
beads.
It must be a very costly garment. She stepped back and
turned to Mrs. Alligood. “Where is my gown from last night?”
“His Grace left orders that it be sent to the dressmaker
first thing this morning, so they could take the measurements from it for these
garments.”
“This morning? What time is it now?”
“A quarter to four in the afternoon.”
Goodness, had she really slept that long?
“Did they send my dress back?”
“No, they did not, Miss Darling. Please, won’t you let me
help you dress now? His Grace does not like to be kept waiting.”
* * * *
“I want to go home now.”
“Now, Miss Darling, I explained.” Mrs. Alligood spoke in
tones as if to an impatient and very young child. “His Grace wants you to dress
in the other gown and join him later for his evening meal.”
Apparently, it was unthinkable to Mrs. Alligood that anyone
would disregard His Grace’s wishes.
“No, I want to leave now. Either call a carriage for me or I
shall simply leave and find a hackney.” Jeanne had had her tea and the doctor
had declared her fit, as if there had been any doubts. She’d had no time since
last evening to let what had occurred with Mr. Ratherford settle in her mind.
She needed time alone to think about what she would do next. One publisher had
wanted her work; surely there would be others.
So what was she doing here playing at being a duke’s whore?
Didn’t she want to prove Dr. Edmonton’s prediction wrong? She was meant for
better things than simply being a man’s plaything.
“I shall go tell His Grace of your wishes.”
Startled out of her thoughts, Jeanne frowned and tilted her
head. “Is His Grace here?”
Mrs. Alligood pursed her lips, then turned and left without
answering.
Well, Jeanne ought to wait and at least tell him thank-you
for the new day dress and good-bye. She sat in a wingchair and tapped her
slipper-clad foot on the floor.
At the sound of the door opening, she looked up.
David entered and closed it. His cheek bore a reddish mark
that had not been there the night before. Determination showed in every angle
and sinew of his face. One could well imagine him wearing such an expression
immediately before addressing the House of Lords on a weighty measure.
Her heart began to beat rapidly. From the intimidation and nothing
else. She would not feel attraction for him. As he approached, she gripped the
edge of the chair.
Was she supposed to jump to her feet and give him a curtsey?
She wasn’t going to do that either.
“You can’t leave.” He stood and stared down at her. He was
so tall. His body was so large, strong, elegantly in proportion…She remembered
to close her mouth and pressed her lips together.
She would not feel attraction for him. She would not give
in. She lifted her chin. “Thank you for the day dress.”
He smiled slightly. “You can’t leave until you let me feed
you.”
“This sense of protectiveness on your part is entirely
unnecessary.”
“Ah, Jeanne, you’re so very cool and brittle with me.”
“I simply want to go home. I have much thinking to do now,
David.”
He put his hands on the arms of the chair and knelt. Her
heart began to beat even faster and she became all the more aware of his large,
broad-shouldered frame. By not arising, she had effectively allowed him to
block her ability to exit at all.
She glanced at his large hands then gasped. “What happened
to your hand? Your face?”
He followed her gaze to the knuckles on his right hand. Two
of them bore slight bruises. “I had some business to clear up.”
A little shiver of horror shuddered through her. “Business?”
“With the man responsible for that cartoon.”
“You thrashed him? With your hands?” The sight of his
knuckles made her chest ache. What if he’d been hurt? But she was more
fascinated that a duke would fight someone with his own hands. Covertly, she
flickered a glance over his powerful frame, his well-muscled arms. A little
breathless sensation swirled over her. One couldn’t really call it a swoon.
She stared at his hands again.
He chuckled softly, the sinister sound at odds with his
normal polished, superior manner. “I warned him not to involve you.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s not important.” The sudden, impassioned fire in his
eyes, made her catch her breath. “Jeanne, don’t leave just yet.”
“Please, David, it is really for the best. For both of us.”
“Stay and dine with me.” He bent and placed a quick,
deliberate kiss on each of her knees.
She wished she could say that the ridiculous gesture left
her unaffected. But her gaze drank in his handsome features and warmth melted
into her belly. She couldn’t deny what that warmth was. It was relief. He
didn’t want her to leave.
There was also some joy in seeing the depth of his passion.
She wanted to leave but she was relieved that he didn’t want
her to. It made no sense.
He laid his head in her lap then slowly pressed his face into
the apex between her legs. He blew heated air and it leaked through her
clothing. A tickling sensation tingled over her folds, awakening her desire.
Her nub began to stiffen. Hot chills rushed over her. Her face flamed. She
squirmed and then giggled. Actually giggled like some silly chit.
“Oh goodness, David, really.”
He lifted his head. “Don’t leave yet.”
“I don’t see a good reason for me to stay.”
“Do you know that I spend all my time surrounded by people,
and yet I am always lonely?”
She touched his midnight black hair, smoothed the disordered
locks.
He grasped her hand and pulled it away from his head.
Frustration smoldered through her. He would never simply let
her touch him…
He turned the palm up, and began to trace small circles. “The
only time I don’t feel lonely is when I am with you.”
Burning flared in her throat. She couldn’t speak.
“I should like to spend some time with you away from a
bedchamber.” His handsome features contorted into a pained expression. “I
haven’t wanted to know anyone deeply for years. With so many people, the more I
discover about them, the less I like them. But it’s not that way with you. The
more I see you, the more I want to see you. I want to know you, Jeanne, inside
and out.”
How could she possibly say no now? “Of course I shall stay
to dine.”