“Babe?” Jessica gulped. How did he know?
“Yes, babe.” Damien lifted an eyebrow. “You have thirty minutes to make yourself presentable, then I wish to see you in my study.”
Jessica’s temper flared. How dare he come into her room and announce that they would be getting married! He could not even summon the courtesy to propose properly. She grabbed a bar of soap and flung it at him. He ducked and the soap hit the door as it closed behind him. She could hear him chuckling as he strode off down the hall.
Jessica turned on Donny. “You told him. You broke your promise.”
Donny shook her head. “Nay, child. I not be the one to tell His Grace. Ye be the guilty one.”
“Me?” Jessica blinked.
“Aye. When ye be sick, ye said much ye had kept in yer heart.”
Jessica groaned and sank to the stool near the tub. “But how did he find out? Didn’t you tend to me?”
“He was with ye from the time he brought ye through the door until yer fever broke. Don’t ye remember my tellin’ ye that last week? He refused to leave your side until finally Her Grace ordered him to get some sleep while she sat with ye, but then he came back an hour later. Her Grace threw up her hands at his stubbornness.”
Jessica’s heart lifted at the thought that perhaps he did care for her if he had been so reluctant to leave her during her illness. Her mood immediately plunged back to the depths with her next thought. He probably only wanted to be sure his heir didn’t die with its mother. She was good for nothing more than to give him a child. If that was what he wanted, so be it. But just because they were to be married, didn’t mean she would allow him back into her bed, despite her desire for him. She would teach the arrogant duke a few things about manners and women.
Although Jessica had been ordered to appear before Damien in thirty minutes, she took her time getting dressed. Besides wanting to defy him, she decided that looking her best gave her an edge in this game. An hour-and-a-half later, she stood before the door to his study. As she smoothed the front of her skirt, she smiled as she imagined Damien’s reaction to her high-necked, modest frock of black-striped, gray taffeta, so different from those she wore as the Lady Fortuna. Her dress was a suit of armor against his seductive charm. Steeling herself for whatever he had planned, she knocked on the door.
Damien’s voice bade her enter. When she walked into the room, she discovered that he was not alone. A rotund little man with twinkling eyes stood as she entered. Damien’s gaze slid over her, but his expression revealed nothing. Despite her modest dress, she felt herself grow warm.
“Ah, my fiancée,” Damien drawled, subtly revealing his annoyance at her tardiness. He indicated his guest. “Jessica, this is John Soames, the family barrister.”
The little man bowed gracefully over her hand. “A pleasure, my lady.”
Turning to Damien after seating herself, she smiled innocently. “I’m sorry I took so long, Your Grace. I only wished to look my best.”
Damien’s brows drew together as if he could not decide between being irritated or disarmed. Jessica kept her sweet smile on her face, but satisfaction at seeing Damien unsure of her bubbled inside. His glance slid away, then came back to land on her.
He cleared his throat. “Jessica,” he said, “Soames has drawn up a statement concerning your involvement with Madame du Barré. I took the liberty of giving him information from what you had told me before. Since you have been ill, we will do our best to have you excused from appearing at Madame’s trial. This statement will be submitted in your absence. However, it is necessary that Soames asks you a few questions. You will need to read over the final document to be sure it is accurate. Then you must sign it before witnesses.”
“Madame is going to trial?” Jessica asked. “She is here in England?”
“Yes.” Damien paused. “She found it expedient to return with us.”
Jessica could not imagine how Damien had managed to get Madame to return. From what she remembered, they had been trying to flee from her, not the other way around.
Mr. Soames gave a discreet cough. “I must inform you, m’lady, that your refusing to give a signed statement to the court could be construed as collaboration with the enemy. There would be a lengthy trial which you would have to go through, and, I am afraid, your wedding plans would have to be postponed, perhaps indefinitely.”
Jessica smiled at the man. “Since I was only informed an hour ago of His Grace’s intentions, I’m afraid we have no wedding plans yet. But I have no wish to spend time in a prison cell. I will answer your questions and sign your statement, sir.”
Mr. Soames beamed his approval. “Wonderful! I will return later this afternoon with my clerks to record your answers, if that is agreeable.” He turned a questioning look upon the Duke. At Damien’s nod, he said, “We will take your statement then.” He stood and offered his hand to Damien. “My congratulations again on your forthcoming marriage, my boy. Your father would have been pleased with your choice. Your lady is most charming, most charming, indeed.” He bent over Jessica’s hand once more, then was gone from the room with surprising alacrity for one so portly.
Awkward silence fell into the room after the barrister’s departure. Jessica kept her eyes lowered on her clasped hands in her lap. The return of the barrister in the afternoon gave her a perfect excuse for leaving.
“If you no longer need me, I’ll return to my room,” she said without raising her gaze. “I would like to put my thoughts in order.”
What she needed was to be away from him. She was still angry about his arrogant proposal and his assumption that she would agree, but her feelings were mixed with gratitude for bringing her home and watching over her, along with sheltering her from the ordeal of a trial and the scandal of bearing an illegitimate child. And God help her, excitement rippled through her at the prospect of being married to him. Confusion was raging in her brain, and she needed to think.
“I would like you to stay for a moment, Jessica,” Damien answered. He pulled a small object out of his pocket, leaned forward and placed it in her lap. It was a tiny velvet box. She looked up at him curiously.
“Open it,” he instructed her gently.
She did and gasped. Nestled amidst the folds of black velvet was an exquisite sapphire and diamond ring.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “I have never seen anything so lovely.”
“It’s yours,” he said brusquely as he turned to gaze out the window.
“I cannot accept such a gift.” She closed the box and held it out to him.
“It’s the custom in our family for the Duke’s fiancée to receive this ring upon their betrothal,” Damien said. He turned back to face her. “I see no reason why you should not accept it.”
Jessica stood and placed the box in his hand. His tone and attitude had brought her quickly to a decision. Raising her chin proudly, she said, “I will give you the best reason for not accepting it. I am not going to marry you, Your Grace.”
Damien blinked, then he stood, towering over her. His eyes became hard, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. “You are a fool, m’lady. I offer security for you and the child for the rest of your life. How can you refuse?”
“Very simply, Your Grace. I merely say no.”
He was very quiet for a moment before he spoke. His tone was dangerously soft. “You cannot say no. I will not have it.”
Incredulous, Jessica’s brows went up. “You will not have it? It takes two consenting adults to have a wedding, Your Grace.”
“I will not have my child born without a name!” he thundered.
“You forget the child is also mine!”
“You are a fool!”
“You are an arrogant bully!”
Blue eyes met green and clashed. Only several weeks before, they had meshed as one in a night of passion. Now, the distance between them was g
reater than that between earth and sun.
Damien’s breath hissed between his teeth. “How do you propose to live?” he asked. “What will you use to live on?”
“I will live the same way I did before you disrupted my life,” Jessica said haughtily.
His eyes narrowed. “Madame’s is no longer in existence. Do you have entrance to any other gaming establishment?”
Jessica shrugged and turned away. “I met many gentlemen at Madame’s. I’m sure one of them could gain me entrance to another establishment.”
“For what price?” he demanded ruthlessly. “Didn’t you declare that you would be no man’s mistress?”
Jessica flinched as her words were thrown back at her. “I’m sure I can find an honorable gentleman who would not require that I go to bed with him merely for the small favor of an introduction,” she said with more conviction than she felt.
Damien snorted his disbelief. “You are more a fool than I thought.”
“Not so much a fool, Your Grace, as to marry an arrogant, tyrannical boor,” she snapped back.
Damien took a step toward her and she braced herself as if for a blow. His words hammered themselves into her brain. “You may defy me, now, my lady, but marry me you will. Before the week is out, you will have this ring on your finger.” He held up the velvet box, then set it on a corner of his desk as if throwing down the gauntlet of a challenge.
Jessica huffed her aggravation and impatience, then turned on her heel and stalked out. When she reached the security of her room, she gave full vent to her anger and frustration. She paced from wall to wall as her conflicting emotions warred within her.
She had gained her heart’s desire only because of Damien’s sense of duty. She would not be trapped into a marriage with a man who did not love her. He didn’t even have the courtesy to ask her to marry him, but rather informed her she had no choice. He could not even bring himself to be polite to her. He must despise her that much.
Of course he would. Her family had hurt him terribly. He had lost his brother because of Margaret’s immorality and her father’s foolishness. Damien felt honor-bound to wed her because of the child they had conceived. This was not the marriage she had envisioned.
She had thought when she wed, her husband-to-be would love her, and she would love him. She halted in mid-step.
But she did love Damien.
She regretted her outburst. But he’d made her so angry. Her hand went to her still flat abdomen. Damien might not love her, but he wanted his child to have a name, and for that she was grateful. Sighing, she sat on a chair beside the window and gazed out at the sunlit day. She thought back to that night when she’d cheated at cards and ended up in his bed. So much had happened since then. She’d been wrong not to confide in him about her innocence. But her pride and naïveté had gotten in the way. Now they were locked in this battle, neither one willing to give ground. How could she make this right??
She stood once more and paced her room until exhaustion overtook her and she lay down on the bed. Wiping her tear-streaked face she closed her eyes. Somehow, she would make him see that she was not the cause of his pain. And somehow, she would make him love her.
Damien watched Jessica leave in silence. His hands clenched tightly at his sides. He wanted to throw something, anything. That woman would drive him mad. Perhaps she had already. What was he doing forcing her into marriage? Her family had brought terrible pain to the Wyndham family. She was obstinate, outspoken, proud. She was soft, vulnerable, desirable. He threw himself into a chair, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
He had really messed up everything. What had happened to his manners and that charm that got him any woman he wanted? God’s teeth, he had been a boor! If she weren’t quite so lovely, or quite so naïve, maybe he wouldn’t feel so honor bound to wed her. But he knew that was not true. His honor would dictate that he do the right thing no matter what Jessica was like. It was an added bonus that he found her so desirable, which was why he found himself in this position in the first place.
He had wanted to be gentle with her. Her illness and her pregnancy made him want to protect her. Yet, her relation to Braeleigh and Margaret weighed heavily on him. While he felt himself aroused by the sight of her and the memory of her passion, he couldn’t get past the pain her family had caused. He was in a hell of a mess.
His glance fell on the little velvet box. He had to talk to someone. Edward was still in London. He was staying at his family’s town house before returning to his duties. Rising swiftly, Damien scooped up the little box and deposited it in his pocket as he strode out the door to call on his friend.
Chapter 18
That afternoon, Jessica was summoned back to the salon because Mr. Soames had arrived with his clerks to take her statement. As she reached the door, Damien arrived at the same time. They stood, not moving or speaking. Then with a sardonic grin, he backed up a step and bowed.
“After you, my lady,” he said.
Jessica could smell brandy on his breath. It was only early afternoon. “You’ve been drinking,” she hissed.
Damien gave her a benign smile and swayed slightly. “I believe I have. Leftenant Johnson was most free with the cask of Mr. Bonaparte’s brandy I had given him upon the completion of his guard duty here.”
Jessica primly compressed her lips. With a snicker, Damien opened the door and waved her through.
Mr. Soames glanced between the two of them. He studiously turned to shuffle some papers, then suggested, “Shall we begin?”
Damien settled himself on the far side of the room in a high-backed chair. He rested his elbows comfortably on its arms and stretched his long legs out before him with his ankles crossed. Jessica frowned at him, but he only gave her a beatific smile. As her attention was captured by the barrister, she paid him no more heed.
After Jessica and Mr. Soames had been absorbed for about an hour, she heard a strange rumbling. Then she heard it again. It seemed to come from the far side of the room. She glanced in Damien’s direction and discovered he had fallen asleep. He was snoring.
Mortified, Jessica’s cheeks heated, but she pretended not to have noticed. Of course, the others were polite enough to ignore it. For the next half hour, the barrister’s questions and her answers were interspersed with the low rumbles of Damien’s slumber. When he finally roused himself, she sent him a dark frown. He only smiled at her innocently, as if there had been no breech of manners. Another two hours passed before Mr. Soames declared they were done. Jessica was relieved for more than one reason. She was exhausted, and her shoulder ached interminably, but she also could not wait to give Damien a piece of her mind.
When Soames and his clerks had gone, she turned on Damien like a hurricane. “How could you be so rude? You fell asleep!”
Damien shrugged. “I was tired.” He yawned behind his hand.
“You snored the entire time!”
Damien grinned. “Did I really? How amusing.”
“It was embarrassing.”
“Ah, Witch, wasn’t your magic working?” He reached out and tugged at a short curl.
Jessica batted his hand away. “You are insufferable. And to think I was going to tell you that I lo—” She caught herself just in time. She had almost revealed that she loved him.
“Tell me what, Witch?” Damien asked, his eyes shrewd.
“Nothing,” she mumbled. “Excuse me, I am very tired.” She swung about and hurried out of the room, away from him.
When she returned to her room, she was so exhausted she could not even think. She slipped off her shoes and climbed into bed without even undressing. Madame and her treachery and Damien’s bad manners would have to wait.
She awoke with Donny standing over her, looking worried. Jessica stretched and yawned. The room was bright with sunshine.
“I must have overslept.”
“Ye mi
ssed dinner last night,” Donny informed her. “And breakfast, too. Are ye all right? Are ye sick again?” Donny felt her forehead.
“I’m fine, Donny.” Jessica pushed herself up. “I was just very tired.”
Donny nodded. “Good. Then get yerself up. Her Grace would like to see ye in the drawing room. She has a dressmaker here so ye can be measured for ye weddin’ dress.”
Jessica groaned and flopped back onto her pillow. Evidently, the Duke had received his domineering traits legitimately from his mother.
“Tell Her Grace there is to be no wedding,” Jessica said. “I will have no need of a wedding dress.”
Donny gasped. “Are ye daft? I cannot tell Her Grace that.”
“Why not?” Jessica demanded. “You’ve never been shy before.”
Instead of answering, Donny asked her own question. “Why ain’t there goin’ t’be a weddin’?”
Jessica sighed. “Because I can’t marry a man who doesn’t love me.”
“Hmph. Then fool ye be,” Donny declared. “I ain’t goin’ t’tell Her Grace no such thing.”
Jessica glared at her maid, then relented. “Then tell her I am not feeling well and cannot come down. Tell her anything, but I will not be measured for a wedding gown I am not going to wear.”
Donny harrumphed again and mumbled something about the blockheadedness of young people as she went out the door. Jessica sighed and got out of bed. Pulling on her dressing gown, she went to sit on the chaise near the window. She needed to make a plan.
Her immediate departure from this house was imperative. After the trial was over and her name had been cleared, she would leave. Until then she would do her best to avoid anything having to do with any wedding plans. And she would avoid Damien as much as possible. The less she saw him, the easier it would be to leave. She just had to figure out where she would go once she left. It would have to be some place where Damien could not find her, some place she could afford. That did not leave her many choices.
The Duke Who Loved Me: On His Majesty's Secret Service Book 1 Page 22
