“And what is it that they say about nobles?”
“Well, they say that nobles have more fun than us mere mortals.” She grinned, feeling brave at her audacity.
The Dowager Duchess laughed. “Ah, that could be true. I am not aware how most of you ‘mortals’ spend your time.”
Louisa stared in surprise at Her Grace, unable to believe that she had made a joke. “Uh.”
The Dowager Duchess watched her face as she flailed in speechlessness before bursting into peals of laughter. “Come girl, let us go. I am surprised that my son has not sent someone to fetch you.”
Louisa focused on not blushing.
They arrived at the conservatory to find her father loitering about in the corridor. His face broke into a smile when he saw them. “There you are. I wondered where everyone had gone to.”
“Oh, is the Duke not here yet?” the Dowager Duchess asked, extending her fingers for Americus to kiss.
“No. I am afraid not.” Americus frowned. “Is everything all right?”
Louisa was glad that neither of them were looking at her.
“I think so.” The Dowager Duchess looked around as if expecting the Duke to jump out from a nook or cranny.
Americus reached out and opened the door to the conservatory and all three entered. Her Grace and Americus were just settling down on the bench while Louisa arranged her brushes when the Duke burst in. “Sorry I am late. I had an important matter to attend to this morning.”
“Was it to do with the Duchess of Greyfield? Did you catch the real culprit?” the Dowager Duchess smiled at her son.
“I’m afraid not. It was far more mundane. A matter of some urgent bills.” He sat down in the chair. “Now shall we get on with this? I can only stay for an hour.”
“Of course, darling,” Her Grace said sitting back. Louisa willed her hands to stop trembling as she picked up the brush. She actively avoided the Duke’s eyes as she painted his torso, her cheeks flushing as she imagined the strong flat belly underneath. Having kissed the Duke, she now could not avoid thoughts of him unclothed, his hands hot on her skin, face flushed with emotion…
She gasped, causing a dash of paint to streak across the canvas.
“What’s wrong?” Americus half got to his feet.
“Nothing is the matter.” Louisa protested, “Just careless.”
The Duke hardly moved. He looked frozen to his seat. Louisa felt a little hurt at how he was managing to ignore her.
She took a cloth designated for just such a purpose, dipped it in turpentine and erased the streak. Then she started again, focused on the tiny details of the Duke’s coat, the tiny gap between his third and fourth button that exposed a mere sliver of his bare flesh. The slight crease of his coat due to his pose on the chair. She lost herself in the artistry and forgot about all her mundane worries.
She was surprised when the Duke got to his feet. “I am afraid I have to end the session here,” he said and Louisa frowned. They hadn’t been at it for very long. Then she looked outside and realized that she was looking at the midday sun.
Where did the time go?
She looked back down at her painting. To her surprise, she saw that she was almost done with the coat, only the gold lapels on the shoulders were left to do. Next, she would tackle his face.
She would have to stare at it, and capture every little expression therein, maybe stare into his eyes to get them just right…she sighed.
I don’t know if I can do this.
The Dowager Duchess stood up with a clap. “Well, now that the Duke has left us high and dry, why don’t we go for a picnic in the garden? There is a picturesque spot I do not believe you’ve seen yet.”
Louisa forced herself to smile excitedly at the Dowager Duchess. “I would like that.”
Her Grace turned to Americus, “What about you, Mr. Notley? Will you picnic with us?”
“I would love to…but–”
“Oh, come father, do come with us? Please?” Louisa could see the lines of tiredness on his face, but figured that the fresh air might be good for him.
He smiled, the lines on the sides of his eyes crinkling with a combination of pain and exhaustion.
“You need to eat.” Louisa said firmly, wondering why she was insisting like this. Perhaps it had something to do with not wanting to be alone with the Dowager Duchess.
“All right.”
The Dowager Duchess clapped excitedly. “Excellent. I shall have Miles bring us food. Come let us go.”
* * *
The clearing among the trees that the Dowager Duchess took them to was indeed picturesque. They had a light lunch of roast turkey, fried apples, and pigeon pie with apple cider. Louisa could not remember a time in their lives where they had eaten so well.
After lunch, Louisa retrieved her sketch book, leaning back against a tree as both the Dowager Duchess and her father lounged about on artfully arranged pillows. Before long, both her companions were asleep as Louisa sketched a backdrop of trees and sky with her father breathing slowly and deeply, in the foreground, his face at peace, hands folded on his chest. She smiled fondly at him, glad to see the lines of pain smoothed away by warm sunshine, fresh air and rest.
I knew this would be a good idea.
She finished the drawing of her father and then moved to put her sketchbook aside. Her eye caught on the Dowager Duchess, elegant even in rest. A tiny blue butterfly had landed on her green gown, probably mistaking it for an extremely soft and smooth blade of grass. Louisa giggled, eyes flicking up to catch Miles’ eye as he stood to attention a few feet away.
He did not deign to acknowledge her so she picked up her book again and drew the butterfly along with the Dowager Duchess’ shoulder on which it rested. She found that whatever tenseness she had been harboring in her shoulders since morning had dissipated. She breathed deep, leaning against the grainy bark and smiled, putting aside her drawings for the moment and just enjoying the sun on her face.
She realized that she had fallen asleep too when Miles woke her up. She jumped, startled, and saw her father and the Dowager Duchess stretching. They both gave her lazy smiles and she smiled back, feeling embarrassed. Miles held out his hand, helping Her Grace to her feet.
“Well…looks like we all fell asleep,” she said with amusement.
“Yes. How embarrassing.” Louisa could see that her father was blushing and almost laughed.
“I expect that we all needed the rest. The fair must have taken more of a toll than we realized,” Louisa said trying to make them both feel better.
“I expect so,” the Dowager Duchess said and then her eyes fell on the sketch book in Louisa’s hands, where the picture of her and the butterfly was showing. “What is that?” she asked in a completely different tone of voice.
Chapter 19
Discovery
Jeremy had spent the morning and part of the afternoon going over the records with Gilbert. The more he worked with the steward, the more hostile he felt. He could not pin down any specific reason why, but all he knew was that Gilbert made him uncomfortable.
He was tempted to think of it as something to do with Louisa – perhaps her entire family elicited extreme reactions in him. But that sounded mad – and very unlikely. He decided to send Gilbert away, to London and the isles, to check on those properties. It would keep him away for a while and give him less things to worry about.
“Gilbert, I wish you to visit all my properties and bring me a report.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace?” Gilbert looked sincerely surprised.
“That is part of your job as my steward, is it not?”
“Indeed, Your Grace. But I conjectured that you need me here. There is a lot to navigate and you will need me to help you.”
“No thank you, Gilbert. I can do it alone.”
Gilbert took a deep breath, and then left the room with a bow. Jeremy forgot about him even before he had closed the door behind him. His mind went back to circling around Louisa. T
he simple blue gown she was wearing had added depth to her cerulean eyes, making him feel as if her soul was exposed to him.
But she did not so much as meet his eyes, not once. Her concentration on his painting was driving him mad.
Why won’t she look at me?
Jeremy knew full well why she was avoiding his eyes. He would have thought that he would be relieved about this but no, instead, he was disappointed.
He walked out of the study, resolving to find her. He caught sight of a footman at the end of the corridor and gestured for him to approach.
“Where are the painter and his daughter?” he asked.
“They are at the bottom of the garden, with your mother Your Grace. They went for a picnic.”
Jeremy lifted an eyebrow. “A picnic?” he was surprised that his mother would choose to socialize with what was essentially the help. Well, that was not quite accurate. The Notleys were honored guests, but the duchess he remembered would have regarded them as nothing more than vendors.
Mother really has changed, he mused.
“Where specifically are they?” he asked the footman.
“The clearing in the wood.”
Jeremy nodded and set out in search of them. He was tired of wringing his hands like a moon-eyed tulip. He had to seek Louisa out and have a word with her. They had to make a decision on what was to happen next.
He encountered his mother, Mr. Notley, and Louisa emerging from the wood, followed by Miles and a couple of servants laden with picnic baskets, blankets, and pillows.
“I trust you had a nice picnic?” he bowed, trying on a smile.
His mother inclined her head. “Why are you looking so Friday-faced?”
Jeremy blanched. He had not been expecting such bluntness from his mother. “I am…not,” he replied and then looked up, his eyes meeting Louisa’s.
“Oh. Well you’re late for the picnic. We were just returning to the house.” His mother said, sounding genuinely regretful about it. Jeremy felt a twinge of guilt. He really should try and spend more time with his mother.
“Well, I shall walk with you then, shall I?”
“Of course,” his mother smiled.
Jeremy fell into step beside Louisa, nodding amiably at her. She blushed, quite prettily and looked away. Jeremy kept his eyes on her, hoping that she would turn and look at him again.
“I think we need to talk,” he said quietly to her.
That made her whip her head around to stare at him with wide eyes. “Talk about…?”
“You know what,” he murmured, watching her from beneath his lashes.
“Well then, talk,” she said.
He grabbed hold of her elbow, slowing her down so that there were at least ten paces between them and their individual parents. The servants followed slowly behind, keeping deliberately out of earshot.
“I…overstepped my bounds yesterday. I need to apologize about that.” He watched her face, to see what her reaction to his confession would be. She simply continued to regard him with blank wide eyes and Jeremy could not tell if she was upset, relieved or angry.
“What exactly are you apologizing for? Overstepping your bounds or the kiss? Perhaps you would like to take your words back?”
Jeremy frowned. “I spoke the truth, and so I cannot apologize for that. But I should not have kissed you. That was wrong.”
“Why was it wrong? Did you not mean it or do you regret compromising me?”
Jeremy could not understand why she was nitpicking everything. “Both?”
“So you did not mean to kiss me? Why did you do it then?”
“I…” something clicked in Jeremy’s throat as he searched for words, “I gave in to temptation. Your mouth is like a beacon sometimes, calling to me. It was disrespectful. If you were a lady, I never would have done it.”
“So you are apologizing for not treating me like a lady?”
“I…suppose.” Jeremy was thoroughly confused.
“But I am not a lady.” Louisa pointed out.
“Perhaps not. But you are just as good as one and I do not want you to think that I regard you as any less.”
“That’s sweet. But a lady would not be here, painting your portrait.”
“No. She would not.” Jeremy met her eyes and they walked in silence for a while, not looking away from each other.
They reached the house and stopped, turning to face each other. Jeremy sighed. “Can we…start over?”
She shrugged, holding his gaze. “Can we?” her voice was low and soft and Jeremy felt that she was asking him for something. The problem was that he did not know what it was.
“I would like to.”
She nodded. “I…don’t know if I do. This path we are on seems interesting enough already.”
Jeremy’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair. “It does?” he didn’t know what she meant, wondered if it was a way to let him down gently?
“Yes,” she shrugged, “at least it’s honest. I don’t want you to treat me like a symbol of…oh I don’t know, purity or delicacy. That is not me. I have not been spared the harsh realities of life before. I do not intend to bury myself in denial now.”
Jeremy froze as he heard those words. On one hand, he wanted to know what harsh realities she had to bear in her life. On the other hand, he did not want to know at all. He wanted instead, to protect her from any further vagaries of life. He did not know what that meant for his future.
For their future.
“What do you intend then? To marry the barrister with the ill-fitting clothes?” Jeremy knew he was sneering and could not seem to stop himself. It was not a behavior befitting to a duke, but he had always been awkward in that role.
“He does not have ill-fitting clothes!” she protested and her defense of him made Jeremy even angrier.
“Oh? So you like him? You think he will make you a good husband? Because a man like that would expect you to be a conventional wife you know? He would never allow you to paint or sell any of your works.”
“You know him so well from one meeting?”
Was she sneering at him?
“I know his type well enough.”
“Well then, you will be happy to know that I have not had any thoughts about wedding Mr. Jones.”
Jeremy opened his mouth to utter another protest when her words registered. “Oh…” was all that he could say.
“Will that be all, Your Grace?”
He was stymied with her cool distance, unable to bridge it and not even knowing exactly why it existed. Was she upset at his kiss or his apology?
Women! He shook his head internally. This is why we don’t allow them on the ships.
“Yes, I suppose that will be all, Miss Notley.”
She nodded, walking away from him, toward the dower house. Jeremy watched her go, torn between a desire to run after her and make her talk to him and anger at her supposed indifference to his declarations.
He took one step as if to follow her.
“Your Grace!” his mother called and he turned to see her watching him.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Escort me to my chambers please. I would like to speak with you.”
“Of course, Mother.” He held out an arm to her, which she took and walked her to her chambers. She did not say a word the entire way and Jeremy hesitated at the door, waiting for her to speak.
“I’m tired. I’m going to lie down now. I’m sure you have a lot of things to do?” she asked, her eyes widening meaningfully.
“Er, of course I do.”
“Good. Because we take up a lot of the Notleys’ time. I’m sure they could use a respite from us both.” Her tone was as serious as he had ever heard it.
Jeremy stared in surprise at his mother before nodding. “Of course, Mother.”
“Good, well…I shall see you at dinner.” The Dowager Duchess stepped in her chambers and closed the door in his face. Jeremy merely stood there frowning for a while before returning to his office and the myria
d of things awaiting his attention. He had not been there long before Miles knocked on the door to announce that the Earl of Shearcaster had come to call.
Jeremy stood up with relief and went to greet his friend.
* * *
Louisa decided that she was in need of a chat with her good friend Betty. So she changed into her walking shoes, checked that her father was settled in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace, a book in his hand, a glass of port by his side as well as a bowl of strawberries before leaving.
Tempting The Ruined Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 16
