She froze, her lips falling open. He held her tightly, his hands on her ribcage. They were so far past propriety; it didn’t matter.
“I love you, too,” she said. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. His cheeks hurt from smiling so widely. He placed a hand on her cheek, and she tilted her head, leaning into it.
He leaned in, his lips capturing hers with his own.
* * *
She moaned, her lips against his as she pulled away. “What are we going to do?” she asked, her eyes on his.
He pulled her close to him, and she leaned her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heart. He leaned his chin against her hair. She was tucked perfectly beneath his chin. She held him tightly.
“The wedding has been called off,” he said. “With the murder, I think it’s the right thing to do. Then, I’ll gently convince Lady Leah to call the whole thing off…permanently.”
He placed his fingers underneath her chin, raising it, so their eyes met. He wiped away the stray tear which was falling down her cheek.
He kissed her again, gently. She felt like she was being swept away by a strong river, her head barely remaining above the surface. It was intoxicating her to the point of not minding that she was going to drown in the depths of his affection.
When they pulled away, he laughed, glancing back toward Kirby Hall. “Where have you left poor Faith?”
“She was sleeping,” she admitted. “I saw it as an opportunity.”
“Poor Faith,” he said. She wove her fingers in with his. He led her over toward the tree, where they sat down in the shade.
She felt like an utter mess—she’d forgotten her bonnet, and her hair was falling in loose waves over her shoulders. He reached up, pushing it back behind her ear, the tip of his finger running over her cheek.
She looked at him, her skin tingling where he touched. He was looking at her with such love; it made her chest ache. She sat away from him to catch her breath. When he was near to her, she felt awash in desire.
“Do you—do you think you’d want to live all the way out here?” he asked her, softly.
“Of course,” she replied, looking at him in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”
“It’s so far from London,” he remarked. “We’re only there during the Season.”
She looked down at their clasped hands. She raised his to her lips, kissing it. “Of course,” she said.
“We’re so retired here,” he went on.
“Not at all,” she insisted. “There are so many good people out here—Lord Sandbourne, Lord Munro, my aunt and uncle.” She studied him, closely, as she wondered where his doubts were coming from. “Who brought this up to you?”
“Lady Leah,” he said. “Last night.”
“Only I know what’s good for me,” she replied. “My cousin does not.”
“Of course,” he said, softly. “You’re right.” His look was filled with such tenderness, that she was glad she’d come. She knew that she couldn’t stay long. If anyone found out—she didn’t know what she’d do. Nor how to begin to explain.
* * *
They sat for as long as they dared, enjoying the closeness that they would never have dared attempt in the presence of others. The time was stolen, precious. Jasper was in heaven, here with the most cherished of angels.
“I should be getting back to Kirby Hall,” she said, at last. He stood up, offering her his hand. She took it, and he helped her to her feet.
“I’ll accompany you there,” he offered. “You shouldn’t be out alone, after all.”
“If we walk out by the stables, I can pretend that I’m coming from there,” she suggested. “Just in case they’ve returned home.”
His heart was so full of joy. The impossible had happened—Lady Selina loved him in return. This was what he’d hoped for. Love. It was real. And it was worth waiting for. He should have known.
As they walked, she pulled the pins from her hair, shaking it out over her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it, to loosen some of the tangles which had formed during her mad dash toward him. He watched her, with her hair loose, her cheeks still rosy. He smiled as he looked at her.
“Yes, Your Grace?” she asked archly.
“You look like a nymph, out of a painting, My Lady.”
“I look absolutely uncivilized,” she replied decisively as she twisted her hair into a neat bun, pinning it up.
Once they were in sight of the house, they paused. He didn’t want to leave her there—he wanted her to remain by his side, always. There was still so much to be done, in order to fight for his life with her. He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. He bowed to her, and she curtsied.
“I hope we will run into each other like this again, My Lady,” he said.
“I presume that we won’t get another moment like this,” she remarked sadly.
“Please,” he begged, “meet me again.”
“It’s going to be tricky, Your Grace,” she replied, frowning.
“I’ll send you a letter,” he said. “Just like before.” He’d have another bring it, the next time so it wouldn’t be traced back to him.
“Very well, Your Grace.” She beamed at him, and his heart just about burst from his chest. She began to walk toward the stables, taking her time, and watching out.
She looked back, and he waved, remembering the last time when she hadn’t. He would remember the way that she looked at him, how the hint of a smile lifted the corners of her lips. How her eyes had sparkled. She turned toward the stables, vanishing behind them.
Once she had disappeared from his view, he turned to head back toward home. He needed to focus. These robbers were becoming even more dangerous, as time passed. Their behavior was increasingly erratic.
* * *
Leah sat with her parents in the sitting room of Lord Langley’s house. Everyone from the nearby estates was there—Lord and Lady Morton, Lord and Lady Quimby and their brood, Lord Sandbourne, Lord Munro and his mother, the Dowager Duchess, without the Duke.
“Where is His Grace?” Leah asked Lord Munro in a low voice.
“I believe he’s out on an errand,” the Dowager Duchess mused. “He has to go and speak to the Colonel of this.”
Leah nodded. She was disappointed that her fiancé was not in attendance. When he was present, she felt special. When they were together, they were the future of Gillingham County. The premier couple in the neighborhood. Alone, and not yet the Duchess, Leah believed herself to be lesser than she would be, soon.
“I’m so sorry to hear of the wedding,” Lord Munro said.
“It’s not forever,” Leah insisted, her eyes on all the people who had gathered in Lord Langley’s large and drafty stone mansion. It was an ancient edifice. One which had been in Lord Langley’s family for generations. “Just until it’s safe.”
The Dowager Duchess smiled at her, sadly. “Of course, dear.” Lady Quimby and her daughter, Lady Laura, approached. Lady Laura was currently the topic of many conversations. She, herself, had been accosted by the brigands and survived.
“All of our preparations will go onward, of course,” Leah told Lord Munro. “But His Grace was right—we cannot have noble guests arriving when the local aristocracy has been targeted so cruelly.”
“Quite right, My Lady,” Lord Munro said, shaking his head sadly. “It’s such a tragedy.”
“It is,” Leah agreed, looking over toward Lord Langley. He was seated in an armchair, over by the fire. He was staring off into space. Lady Ella had remained in her room, too overcome by grief and fear to be in polite company.
“He truly loved her,” Lord Munro commented. “I can only hope to find a lady who loves me as much as he loved her.”
“Love is a sham, My Lord,” Leah said. “It’s all made up for the stories.”
“Is that what you think, My Lady?” he asked. When she looked at him, his head was tilted to the side, curiously. He reminded her of a puppy that she’d once had.
/> “It’s what I know, My Lord.” She recalled her conversation with the Duke. She wondered if the two brothers had been discussing it. If so, she wondered what the Duke had said to Lord Munro.
“So, he’s that devastated over the loss of a lady that he merely liked, then?” Lord Munro quirked an eyebrow at her.
The two of them watched Lord Langley for a moment. He was offered tea, wine, bourbon. He refused them all. A tear slipped from his eye, down his cheek, settling into the parenthetical curve beside his mouth.
Leah frowned. She couldn’t be mistaken—she very rarely was. “I think love of a sort forms over time,” she said, confidently. “They have been married these past twenty years, after all.”
“I’m sure you’re right, My Lady,” Lord Munro said. “Although all of those books—they couldn’t all be wrong, could they?”
Leah looked sternly at Lord Munro. “I don’t understand the obsession with it. Marriage, for a lady, is about having economic stability,” she explained. “For a gentleman, it’s about having heirs to their estates.”
Lord Munro raised his eyebrow, smiling at her. “Where’s the romance in that, My Lady?”
She opened her mouth then closed it. She smiled at him. “Romance?” she asked doubtfully.
Lord Munro gestured with his chin toward Lord Langley. “I’d rather be devastated.”
Leah looked over at him. She suddenly wanted that. She wanted the Duke to be sad at her loss. She began to wonder how one went about it.
“Wouldn’t you rather have my brother’s heart?” he asked. “Wouldn’t that make your marriage infinitely better, instead of merely bearable?”
“And how, pray tell, would I go about getting it?” she replied. She could learn much about the Duke through his brother. They were close, she knew.
“Through his horses,” he said.
“I see,” she remarked.
“And his stomach,” he added with a laugh. He bowed low to her. “Excuse me, My Lady.”
“Of course, My Lord,” she replied, curtsying.
She looked back at Lord Langley. His children surrounded him. One of his daughters held his hand. He was not alone—not entirely.
She resolved to make the Duke fall madly in love with her before their wedding. She would make the best of the delay—use it to her advantage.
Chapter Fourteen
Selina returned to her rooms, walking as quickly as she dared. The house was full of servants, as usual. She walked with confidence, not making eye contact with any of them. She hoped that her face didn’t show any of the guilt that she felt. Once inside her room, she closed the door softly behind her.
Faith stood up. She’d been waiting, sitting on the chair beside the vanity. She clutched at her book, a look of combined worry and relief on her face.
“My Lady! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Faith said. “I was about to alert the others.”
“Oh, I was just in the stables, checking on Violet’s foal,” Selina replied.
Faith squinted at her, tilting her head to the side. “My Lady?” Naturally, Faith had checked there for her. She couldn’t lie—not to her faithful companion.
“Very well, Faith,” she said, raising her chin. “I went to meet the Duke.”
“My Lady!” Faith gasped.
How the same phrase, uttered in two different inflections could mean something else entirely was mildly amusing. Faith looked scandalized. “You shouldn’t be out alone! Not when a lady has been murdered!” Faith remonstrated. She reminded Selina of a mother hen.
“You’re right, Faith. It was reckless of me. But I was just headed to the World Tree. And the Duke was there,” she said soberly. All the excitement had faded, and Selina felt exhausted.
“My Lady,” Faith said, frowning. She seemed to think better of what she was about to say. “We should get you cleaned up before someone comes back and we have to explain anything to them.”
Selina walked over to the washstand, where she poured some fresh water into the porcelain basin, using the matching ewer. She splashed the cold water on her face and her neck.
When she was done, Faith stood beside her, handing her a fresh towel to wipe her face dry. It smelled of rose water.
“Thank you, Faith,” she said, blotting her face and neck dry.
“My Lady, your dress is covered in grass stains,” she said in dismay.
“I’ll need a fresh one—grab the blue muslin, please.” She placed her hands on her waist, taking deep, steadying breaths. Her thoughts were a frenzy, and her hands still shook a little.
She couldn’t believe what had happened over the past hour. So much had happened, and yet—nothing at all. The state of things was still what it had been before.
Faith returned within moments to help her take off the white muslin that she’d worn during her mad dash through the pastures. The hemline was covered in about an inch of mud—and there were, in fact, grass stains on the skirt.
“I hope I haven’t ruined it,” Selina mused. All in pursuit of the Duke.
“Not at all, My Lady,” Faith assured her. “I’ll have it right as rain in no time.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Faith.” She honestly didn’t.
“You’d have a lot of explaining to do, My Lady.” Faith shook her head.
Selina laughed, covering her face with her hands. “I feel like I’ve lost my mind, Faith.”
Faith beamed at her. “They say that love does that, My Lady. You should hear all of the things that Mr. Shakespeare had to say about it.”
“I feel so silly, Faith,” she said.
“Are you happy?”
“Not yet. But I think, soon, I might be.”
Faith smiled. “I’m glad for you, My Lady. Now, let’s get you out of this dress. I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
Selina turned her back to Faith, to help her undo the row of buttons at her back.
* * *
The funeral was held a few days later. Jasper attended along with his mother and his brother. The service was a grim reminder—a lady had been murdered. Taken from her husband and children. As the Duke, it was Jasper’s duty to see that the Regent’s justice be carried out.
They stood around the gravesite in the little churchyard, as the rain began to fall. When Jasper glanced back, he could see Lady Selina, dressed in black. It was meant to look severe; instead, it made her hair that much more golden, her skin that much more like fresh cream.
He stepped over to Lord Langley. “My sincerest condolences, My Lord,” he said.
Langley’s eyes streamed with tears. “I truly loved her,” he replied, sniffling, “and love her, still.”
“At least you have your children, to comfort you in your grief,” he said, even feeling how weak his sentiments were.
“As a young married gentleman, soon, I hope that you will know what it’s like to love,” Lord Langley said.
“I certainly hope so,” Jasper replied.
He offered his mother his arm, and she accepted it. They began to head through the gravestones.
“I’d like to stop by your father’s,” she said.
“All right,” he replied. When he turned to look for his brother, Reuben was already following after them.
They moved in that direction, going to stand by it. Already, moss had begun to grow on the stone. It read: His Grace, Frederick Munro, Duke of Gillingham. He had been dead these past five years, leaving Jasper his own master.
“He wasn’t a bad husband,” their mother mused, “just very strict.”
“He had a temper,” Jasper said. “He took it out on all of us.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I was always very afraid that you and your brother would have tempers like his.”
“To think that no one even knew about it,” he mused. “He hid it so well.” His father had presented himself as two very different gentlemen—there was the gentleman he’d been when it had just been the family, a gentleman with a frightening temper, who
wanted to be obeyed without question. And then, there had been the gentleman who he’d been, out among society—a carefree individual who was kind and caring.
“Yes,” she agreed.
“And we helped him hide it,” Reuben added bitterly.
“We’ve been blessed that you two got my temperament,” their mother was quick to add.
Sins 0f An Intoxicating Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 13
