Page 77 of The Duke's Pet

She only had a few more nights in this bed, then she’d have to find somewhere else to sleep. But at least she’d made the decision that it wouldn’t be at The Rose and Thorns. That was something to be positive about.

But wherever it was, it wouldn’t be with the duke and that thought made her sad. It pulled a part of her she hadn’t even known existed, a string in her heart, a deep dark ache in her soul.

What they had was special. Yes, he was unusual, his moods flitted about and he demanded obedience. But there was something about him that called to her. She enjoyed the way he cared for her and how he had expectations from her behavior. She liked that he wanted her to achieve, to flourish. He wasn’t one of these old fuddy-duddies who thought women should look pretty and nothing else.

She turned over, tiredness washing through her. Soon her eyes closed and she was whisked away into a dream about the lake and the ducks, the grotto and the trees that shadowed the window.

When she woke it was the sound of the rain that registered first in her thoughts. It was pelting at the panes, hammering as if trying to get in.

Then she realized the duke was behind her, his body curled to match the shape of hers. He was warm and had one hand resting on her waist.

She turned gently so as not to wake him.

He was sleeping. A smear of red paint stained his right cheek. He’d obviously gotten caught up in something while he’d been sorting through his pictures.

She wiped her thumb over the mark.

He opened his eyes. “Good morning.” He blinked sleepily.

“Good morning to you.”

He smiled. “You went to bed early.”

“I was tired.”

He tugged his arm from the sheet and stroked her hair. “I’m sorry. I got distracted by work.”

“That’s not a problem, do not apologize.”

“I want to. I could have left it for another week. My plan is to enjoy having you here.”

She turned her head. It was bad enough, her thinking about leaving, without him talking about it too. “The weather has changed.”

“It’s spring, that’s what happens. The plants will be glad of it though.”

“I suppose.”

He was quiet then. “Come on. Let’s get on with the day. I neglected your lessons yesterday. It was foolish of me to think you could teach yourself to read. We will have breakfast and get straight down to working on your literacy.”

Jemima had thought it would be nice to make love again, as her days were numbered. But the duke had already left the room.

She sighed, flopped onto her back, and rubbed her belly. She’d taken his seed the day before. What if she was already with child? The duke’s child. An heir to this enormous estate. Would he deny paternity? Would he claim her to be a harlot making accusations at him?

All the more reason to take something of value from Hillcrest. Two mouths to feed will be an added expense.

As she padded across the room to stare out at the wet grass and the drooping, rain-heavy trees, her emotions seemed to coil in on themselves. Like a spring they tightened, making her shoulders and neck tense and her jaw clench.

She tried to unlock the feeling of loss and the inevitability of her betrayal when she pocketed something but was unable.

Eventually, on hearing the duke leave the adjoining room, she set about her ablutions.

Afterwards, she picked a red dress from the cupboard. It had small puffed sleeves and a white frothy neckline that sat, like the one yesterday, low on her cleavage.

She ran her fingers through her hair; she’d wait and use the brush in the study. The one the duke had used the day before. It had made her hair feel much nicer than the tattered little comb she had in her bag.

Once ready for the day, she again descended the stairs. For a moment she pretended she belonged there, that she was the lady of the house and the duke her husband, and all the things in it were hers to do with as she pleased.

But when she reached the bottom she forced the fanciful idea of being the lady of the house from her head. It would only lead to disappointment, and these things were not hers.

---