Page 38 of Good Duke Gone Hard

Jonathan chuckled. “That much I’m sure is true.” He stared down at her delicious red lips and recalled her peach taste and jasmine scent. He had ridden that horse for himself. He had wanted to beat the Colonel. He had ridden that horse to win. But a small part of him latched on to the idea that he had been riding for Margaret.

What was it about her? She was unlike any woman he had known before. Well, he supposed that wasn’t saying much at the moment. But he had eyes for no one except her. Was that enough though?

“We need to talk, Margaret.”

“So serious, Jonathan?” Her lashes fluttered as she peeked up at him. “You’ve been playful with Bella all day, and now you’re all serious with me.” She crossed her arms and let out a puff of air.

He stalked over to her and now stood only a few inches from her. “Do you want me to treat you the way I treat every other girl?”

She had to lift her head to meet his eyes, and it stole his breath.

“I want you to treat me like I’m the only girl.”

And then before he could think of a reply, she spun around and skipped off.

Chapter 14

MARGARETSATGRUMPILYATthe breakfast table the next morning with jammy fingers, as she placed another bite into her mouth. She was early enough that she hoped to both catch Jonathan and beat those who slept in. Which shouldn’t be too difficult since many of the guests had mentioned plans to sleep until noon.

Jonathan, expectedly the only other person in the room, had just piled some eggs and toast onto his plate and was about to take his seat, when Margaret couldn’t hold it in any longer. She knew she was about to pick a fight, but truth be told, the fight was inevitable. The question was of whether she had the fight internally, giving him no chance for input, or externally, where the man might at least get a word in. Probably.

Ding. Ding.The fight bells rang in Margaret’s head.

“How are you feeling about yesterday?” Margaret asked sweetly.

“Fine.”

That was the word. He got one word in, and a devil of a word it was.Fine? He was fine?He wasn’t feeling any of the turmoil Margaret was feeling? She could hardly stand to see Bella, one of her dearest cousins, clinging to him all day. There was no time to analyze the exaggeration. Objectivity was beyond Margaret’s current capabilities. At least, her current willpower.

She wanted to know how Jonathan was feeling and where his head was at, but she knew how strong she could come on at times. She certainly didn’t want to frighten him away permanently, but at the same time…she needed to know.

Margaret finally pulled her gaze back to Jonathan. “Fine?”

Jonathan cocked his head to the side, but before he could get his second–or more–word in, a footman entered the breakfast room delivering a message.

“Your Grace,” the liveried footman bowed as he proffered the tray to Jonathan.

The tray glimmered in the morning sunlight as Jonathan took the letter in hand and began reading. Margaret watched his eyes scan the note. They turned dark as his brows drew together.

“I must go,” Jonathan rubbed his hands up his face, then stood abruptly looking side to side. “I’m sorry, Margaret. But I must go.” With that, Margaret could only watch him march off out of the room.

JONATHAN COULDN’T BELIEVE THE timing of the letter he had just received. He had been waiting for any news on himself and his past, and just when the situation with Margaret was growing…complicated…it grew even more so.

The letter was from one of Gregory’s solicitors in London. They said they had news about Jonathan and how he ended up in Glaston. They had requested Jonathan to visit London for more information at his earliest convenience, but in his mind there was no earlier convenience than now. His hosts would understand.

He changed his clothes to better endure a long ride, donned his hat, and left.

When at last he arrived in London, he made all haste to go directly to the office of one Mr. Swanson, in the employ of Gregory, Duke of Wellingford. Such prodigious titles. Perhaps soon Mr. Swanson would be employed by Jonathan as well. Such trivial thoughts ran through Jonathan’s mind to distract him from his real concerns.What had they found? Why now? Would it help to know?

Jonathan burst through the doors and immediately caught sight of Mr. Swanson’s assistant.

Jonathan started to announce himself. “Duke of–”

“Right this way, Your Grace,” the assistant had likely been the one to relay the message from Mr. Swanson to the messenger, so was not more than a tad nonplussed to recognize that this was Jonathan when he practically barged in the office.

He led Jonathan into an elegant office of charcoals and creams, seating him in a cushioned chair after he made the introductions.

“Your Grace,” Mr. Swanson began.

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