Page 55 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
‘Keep it,’ he said, smiling down into her face, seeing her courage in the lift of her chin.
She tucked it into her reticule, picked up her parasol and put her hand on his arm, the way any perfect young lady would, and while he desperately wanted to kiss her, Jake knew that any sign of disarray would be noted and commented upon and he would not have Rose embarrassed for any number of kisses, though the temptation be nigh irresistible.
They strolled back along the path and out into the open.
Rose nodded at the house where flags and turrets and crenulations abounded. ‘It is almost as grand as the Tower of London, isn’t it? It must be very old.’
Bless the girl for not making a scene and for trying to make the best of it.
Now he had to decide if he should destroy her image or... Rose was always honest with him. It was one of the many things he adored about her. ‘The Marquis had it built scant five years ago.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘Really?’
‘A sort of Gothic-revival design.’
She frowned. ‘He wanted to live in a castle?’
‘Like a knight of old. Luckily we weren’t asked to dress up in medieval costume and masks.’
She frowned. ‘Why would they do that?’
‘Why do the very rich do anything? For amusement.’
They were approaching the riverbank where punts and rowboats hung with bunting bobbed merrily against the jetty. Several gentlemen and ladies milled about, waiting their turn to board. One of them waved. ‘Your Grace. We are having a race—will you join us?’
Curiosity was rampant on Rose’s face. For one wild moment he thought about asking her to take part with him. He grinned at the young man and shook his head. ‘Sorry, lads. My grandmother requires Miss Nightingale’s services.’
She glanced up at him with regret in her eyes. ‘Thank you for your discretion,’ she said softly. A bell rang off in the distance. She smiled. ‘It seems food is about to be served.’
Damn. He would make up for it later. When they were alone.
* * *
Exhausted by her day by the river, Her Grace had retired the moment she arrived home, taking her dinner on a tray. So Rose and Jake had dined alone in ducal splendour. Or as alone as anyone could be attended by several footmen and the butler. The servants had hovered around them like the flies that had hovered over their picnic, darting in every now and then to remove a dish or add a new one. She and Jake had spoken very little.
With the prospect of the night before her, Rose had barely been able to eat a mouthful. Jake hadn’t fared much better. Then, when he’d bid her goodnight, he’d leaned forward and whispered in her ear. ‘Leave your hair down for me.’
Now Rose sat on the edge of her bed in her dressing gown, transfixed by indecision. Did she go to him? Or would he come here? Her heart pounded in her chest. Her mouth was so dry she might have swallowed coal dust. Questions buzzed around and around in her brain. Had her fit of the megrims beside the river made him regret taking up with her? How could she have as good as admitted to jealousy when she knew very well they would never be more than lovers? Why did he never want to talk about his family?
Should she apologise for bringing it up? Or should she try harder to get him to speak of what troubled him?
Her door creaked open.
Jake sauntered in, a bottle of wine and two glasses dangling from one hand. He wore only his shirt tucked into his pantaloons, but his hair was damp, as if he’d come from his bath.
She had also bathed, but had not washed her hair, since it had been washed first thing this morning.
He lifted the bottle. ‘Care for some champagne?’ He set the bottle and the two glasses on the table by window, where two armchairs made a cosy little nook. When she was not waiting on his grandmother, she liked to sit there and read, since Jake had commandeered the library for his office.
She perched on the edge of one of the chairs.
He gave her a charmingly boyish grin. ‘Don’t worry, my sweet, I am not going to descend upon you like a ravening wolf.’
‘That’s a relief, I must say.’
He laughed. ‘Did I hear a note of regret, my dear? It really isn’t my style, I’m afraid, but I can always give it a go.’
She grinned and eased back into the chair, relaxed by his teasing. Now she knew the answer to one question. He would come to her. Obviously. Of course, no one would take notice of the Duke wandering around his own house. Or if they did, they would say nothing if they valued their positions. And since, as his grandmother had complained from time to time, they ran on a skeleton staff with many of the rooms shut up and the furniture under holland covers, he was unlikely to run into anyone at all.
