Page 20 of Devoted to the Duke (The St. Clairs 1)

Jeremy allowed Corto speak to a few more people before he steered her toward their coach. He waved off the driver and helped his grandmamma in and then followed, sitting across from her.

“Did you enjoy your time at the Wethersbys’ ball?” he asked. “I know it was your first event to attend since your arrival in London.”

“I had a wonderful time catching up with everyone, especially my friend.” She eyed him with interest. “It seems to me that you, too, enjoyed your firsttonouting.”

“It was good to see some of my friends,” he said guardedly.

In truth, his spirits soared higher than a kite on a blustery day. All because of Catherine Crawford.

It was madness to think he might have found the one woman that completed him, especially when he had no intentions of making a lifetime commitment to any female. Yet he’d been the happiest he’d ever been in her company, a thrill of what was to come building inside of him. Already, he counted the hours before he would see her again. The ease with which they’d spoken, as if they’d been acquainted for years, was part of his euphoria. He thought about how much she put family on a pedestal and how she believed in love.

For Jeremy, he’d never seen that love existed, at least between a man and woman. The three women his father had wed had come with large dowries, if Jeremy believed their gossiping servants. He saw little affection between them. His grandfather had passed before Jeremy was born. He wondered if Cor had loved him. Though most of his friends had fallen away over the years, he couldn’t think of one of them who had married yet, much less been in love. Attonevents, wedded couples rarely interacted. Society’s unwritten rule asked that a woman provide an heir and a spare and then she could do as she pleased, while a man could take a mistress at any given time, before or during marriage.

He’d never remotely felt any kind of attachment or affection for any woman of his acquaintance. Jeremy was no angel, having sowed enough wild oats at Cambridge and while on his travels through Europe. None of those women appealed to him in any way, shape, or form.

Except Catherine.

She possessed not only beauty but the good name and fortune that society required—yet so did dozens of other women who were present at tonight’s ball. He found it hard to explain to himself why he was so drawn to her. Some intangible that refused to be named.

Love?

He wouldn’t have thought so before tonight.

Cor pulled him from his thoughts. “Jeremy St. Clair, I am asking you about Lady Catherine.”

“What about her?”

“It was obvious you connected with her in some way. I noted you danced twice with her and only once with others. You both seemed quite engaged in your supper conversation. My goodness, I’ve never seen two people laugh so much.”

He shrugged. “She puts me at ease. We spoke of... many different things. Even Timothy.”

Cor’s brows rose. “I see. Tell me, Grandson—how do you feel about her? When you’re dancing together. Strolling. Talking.”

Letting down his guard, he said, “As if I’m myself. The real me who’s been hidden away for so many years. The Jeremy St. Clair who enjoyed life to the fullest.” He sighed. “She makes me feel alive, Cor. As if every bone within me wants to move with joy. When she was in my arms, it felt right. That someone was by my side and would stand with me against the world.”

He raked his hands through his hair. “I can’t get her out of my head. I can still smell her subtle perfume. Hear her laugh. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight because I’m excited to see her again.”

Cor patted his knee. “I’m sure Lady Catherine is as taken with you as you are with her.”

“I hope so. Or I don’t. Cor, I never wished to wed,” he admitted. “Father tried thrice and made a disaster of each marriage. He was a terrible husband and an even worse father. I know he’s your son but—”

“No apologies needed, my boy. The important thing is you arenothim. You are a very good man, Jeremy. As you mature, you’ll become an even better one. You will make a good husband and wonderful father, for you know to act the opposite of your own father. You will lavish attention upon your children—and your wife. It remains to be seen whether Lady Catherine will be that wife or not.”

She took his hand. “Tomorrow will take care of itself. Either your eagerness to see the girl will die out—or it will magnify. If it hits the point where you don’t think you can live without her, then she is the one for you.”

“Is that what love is, Cor? When you so desperately need to be with another?”

She smiled mysteriously. “It’s a part of it.”

The coach slowed and Jeremy said, “It looks as if we’re home.”

He opened the door when the carriage came to a halt and jumped out, handing Cor down. They started toward the house when the front door flew open. Barton appeared, looking disheveled. Jeremy’s heart sank, knowing the news would not be pleasant.

“My lord, Your Grace, thank goodness you’re home.”

“Is it His Grace?” Cor asked, her voice steady as always.

Barton nodded. “His Grace came home from his club an hour ago, his speech slurring and his gait irregular. It wasn’t his... usual manner. Simmons got him to his chamber and then His Grace collapsed. I sent for Doctor Walmsley at once. He is with His Grace now.”

Dread filled Jeremy. He looked to Cor. “We should go to him.”

Taking her arm, he led her into the house and up the stairs, Barton following closely behind them. They reached his father’s bedchamber as Walmsley ventured from the room.

Seeing them, the physician shut the door, his face grave. “It’s apoplexy. I doubt His Grace will survive the night.”

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