Page 41 of Good Duke Gone Hard

“Well, if you must know, it was quite productive.”

A few heads discreetly tilted his way. Margaret eyed him curiously. The depth of her eyes was inaccessible and all he could read from them was apprehension.

He keenly caught her gaze as if to check in with her. He received nothing back in reply. He needed to elicit some kind of reaction from her, so he spoke. “I may as well tell you what happened.” And then he recounted how and what Jake Edgely had uncovered about him.

When he announced the death of John Smith, he heard a few gasps along with a couple of tongues clucking, and by the end of the retelling, all eyes and ears were indiscreetly turned in his direction.

Everyone’s except Margaret’s. She had found something particularly interesting in her tea, perhaps she was taking up tea leaf reading.

Why was she so aloof? He had just provided one of the most interesting tales anyone in that room had likely ever heard–especially given it was all truth and not tale at all.

“Now what?” Lyle prompted Jonathan.

“Now…nothing.”

‘At least you know.”

“Yes, there’s that.” Jonathan tried to catch Margaret's eye again, to no avail.

“Do you wish there were more?”

“I do. But I shall come to accept what I know. Meanwhile, I shall continue to hope for the return of my memories.

“That’s quite the story you have there,” Lyle whistled nonplussed.

“Stranger even than some plays I’ve attended at your very own Vauxhall, Mr. Fairfax,” Colonel Hastford added.

“That awful John Smith,” Kat clucked. Jonathan could now identify where at least one of the clucks originated. “At least he got what he deserves.”

“Katherine,” her mother, the Countess of Winchester, chided quietly.

Kat sipped her tea. Defiantly. It would do no good to rebut in public. Agatha sat mesmerized by her tea leaves in a similar fashion to Margaret, and the gentlemen took turns flitting glances about the room.

During the short distraction, Jonathan leaned toward Margaret and mouthed the words “present” and “for you” to Margaret.

She turned her head back to her tea leaves. Hopefully she was foreseeing a fast-approaching reunion between the two of them.

Jonathan fielded a few more queries from Davin and Lyle before the conversation turned to the topic of winter and the impending weather change.

MARGARET WAS SEETHING TO the point she thought if Jonathan were any closer he would be indelibly burned from the rage emanating from her body. This man. The one she had fallen for before. Lost. Waited for. Cried over. And now was falling for again, had no concept of the repercussions of his actions.

She had to leave the room before she exploded. “Tea was lovely,” she nodded to her mother and curtsied to the room. “I think I shall go for a walk before dinner this evening.”

The dowager duchess flicked her a look, but responded, “Yes, dear.”

Margaret had just passed through the door when she thought she heard her mother say something about bringing a coat.

Forget that. Margaret’s fury was all the warmth she needed.

Just as she was about to step outside, she heard the familiar gait of Jonathan. Grumbling, she said, “What are you doing?”

“I came to walk with you,” he grinned unknowingly. “And offer my coat in case you grew cold.”

“I don’t need it. I’m perfectly warm enough, thank you.”

Jonathan held out his arm for her to take.

“And I don’t need that either,” she said.

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