Page 65 of The Duke of Kisses
She started through the hedgerow, eager to leave the pond. “To do what?”
“No idea. If you think of something, let me know.”
Jacob had learned cabinetry from their father, but he’d never seemed as passionate about it as John. Jacob seemed to prefer looking after the animals and caring for the crops they grew.
“You should be a farmer,” she said, an idea forming in her mind.
“Are you going to get Mary to set me up the way she has you?” he asked sharply.
Fanny flinched. “I didn’t realize you might want that. I could talk to her, if you want me to.”
“Don’t do me any favors.”
“Why not? You’re my brother. And you’reIvy’sbrother too.”
Jacob shot her an uncertain stare that quickly turned into a scowl. “I don’t want anything from her or her fancy husband.”
Fanny exhaled. “Now you sound like Mother and Father. Don’t let them color your mind. Ivy and West are good and kind, and they’d help family.”
“You likely won’t have a chance to talk to them anyway. Father’s keen to marry you off to Duckworth.”
“Well,I’mnot keen to marry him.”
“Fanny, when are you going to realize you don’t have a lot of choice in this world?” He actually sounded a bit sad.
“Oh, but I do, Jacob,” she said softly. “I do.” And tomorrow, David would come and formally present that choice. He’d ask for her hand, and her parents would be furious—both because she wouldn’t be marrying Mr. Duckworth and would instead marry into the family that was perhaps responsible for the disappearance of her father’s beloved uncle.
As they neared the house, she realized she’d forgotten her sketchbook. Ah well, David could bring it to her tomorrow—she’d just have to make sure her mother didn’t notice that he had it.
Right now, however, she had to make sureno onenoticed she’d just had a tryst beneath a willow tree.
* * *
The following morning, David wrestled with his feelings of excitement and joy over his future with Fanny and his disappointment and anger toward his mother and her meddling. He was eager to set her straight and ensure she understood that he was marrying Fanny whether she liked it or not.
Though they weren’t in London, he determined it was still too early to call on the Snowdens. Perhaps he should have a glass of brandy to bolster his nerves. If they were any more determined to keep him and Fanny from marrying as his mother was, he’d need it.
David picked up Fanny’s sketchbook. She’d left it beneath the willow yesterday. In it, he’d written a note to her along with a drawing of the golden eagle that had inadvertently led him to her. The species would forevermore be his favorite bird.
He’d been tempted to draw a picture of Fanny instead. Her on the ground with her eyes half-closed and her lips parted in seductive invitation. And hewoulddraw that—someday. When she could pose before him.
His body stirred with arousal. He grabbed his hat and headed for the door, intent on a vigorous walk to cool his ardor and organize his thoughts before calling on the Snowdens.
He opened the door and stopped short. Standing in the corridor was Fanny. She was the picture of fresh beauty—her red-gold curls peeking from beneath the crown of her straw bonnet. A bright blue ribbon was tied beneath her chin, matching the pin-width stripes on her day dress. Beyond her stood another woman. She was a good ten or so years older than Fanny and garbed in a more somber costume, indicating she was probably her maid.
“Fanny.” He belatedly bowed. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until later.”
“You said you were going to call on me.” She winced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She turned to the other woman. “Barker, would you mind waiting here for a moment while I go in and speak with his lordship? We’ll leave the door open.”
The maid nodded, but there was a glint to her gaze and a slight tilt to her mouth that betrayed some measure of amusement.
David stepped back and allowed Fanny to enter. Her gaze dipped to his hand. “Oh, you have my sketchbook, thank goodness.”
“I was just going to take it on a walk with me in case I came across some aviary wonder.”
She smiled. “I have no doubt you would.” She looked around the small, well-appointed chamber, and her gaze fell on the four-poster bed.
He set the book on the table near the fireplace where a few coals smoldered, and moved closer to her. “You shouldn’t look at the bed unless you want to use it,” he said softly.
