“Yes, yes, of course.” Selina walked to the door, grateful to have something to do to keep her occupied. She walked downstairs, waving to Wickes as she passed him.
“Afternoon, My Lady,” he said.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wickes.”
“Where are you off to?” he asked, arching his brow. She knew that he’d seen the letter and had received his marching orders from her uncle.
“Down to the Gallery,” she said stoutly. “I need a bit of a walk.”
“Very good, My Lady.” He inclined his head to her.
Feeling as though her every move was being watched, she walked straight there, ambling down the carpeted hallway lined with lush oil paintings. She stopped to look at them, one by one.
When she glanced back the way that she’d come, she spotted Mr. Wickes, standing there, making sure that she wasn’t attempting to sneak out. She waved to him, then returned her eyes to the still life of a ceramic bowl of fruit.
She thought of the day when she’d run toward him, the way that he’d looked at her. She closed her eyes, picturing Jasper, and the way that he’d looked at her with longing.
* * *
Jasper waited, his eyes on the hill, over which she usually appeared. He thought of her, how she looked on the day when she’d come running toward him, her hair loose, and her cheeks rosy. Desire for her caused his body to react. He felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach. He sighed, pacing as he waited.
The sun began to progress through the sky as the hour grew later. Clouds rolled in, and it began to drizzle. He wondered what was keeping her.
Perhaps she couldn’t get away. It began to rain, in earnest. But he couldn’t bear to pull himself from the spot. What if she finally came, only to find that he’d gone?
He stood, his back against the tree. The branches sheltered him, but only a little. A drop of rain slipped down over his forehead, and he brushed it away. His stomach rumbled, and he was soaked through.
He finally realized, with a shock, that she wasn’t coming. She wasn’t coming at all. He felt like a fool, standing there, in the pouring rain.
He stood up straight and began to head for Pilot, who was grazing nearby. He slipped the bridle back on, then climbed up onto his saddle. Using his heels to guide the horse, he rode through the pasture gate.
He headed straight for Gillingham Manor. He was going to find out the meaning of it. He was worried that perhaps something had happened to prevent her from coming to meet him, something bad.
Perhaps, she had encountered the men that he sought, while she was headed to meet him. If that was the case, then he needed to alert everyone that she was missing. First, he would change. If she had merely not come, then he didn’t want to be humiliated by showing her that he’d waited in the rain.
He didn’t know what to think.
Jasper arrived back at Gillingham Manor, where he climbed down off of Pilot. His groom exited the stables, frowning a little at Jasper’s sodden appearance.
“Give him a good rub down,” Jasper ordered. “And if you would, saddle Archer for me. I’ll need to go out again, immediately.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” the groom said, taking Pilot by the reins.
“Thank you.” He turned and walked toward Gillingham Manor.
When Jasper entered the house, it was very quiet. The servants were finished with their daily chores, and he suspected that his mother was in her rooms, sitting quietly. His brother was likely at his lodge. He was relieved not to have to explain himself. He kept up a brisk pace as he headed for his room.
His valet met him there.
“Your Grace?” Frederick asked, frowning a little at his wet clothes.
“I’ll need dry clothes, Mr. Frederick,” he ordered. There was a light rapping at his door. He opened it, to find his mother, standing there.
“Jasper!” she exclaimed. “You’re soaked through!”
“I got caught in the rain, Mother,” he explained.
“But—where were you? You’ve been gone all afternoon with no explanation! I was worried.”
“I have to get over to Kirby Hall.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Maybe. I won’t know until I get there.”
“Then, you can stay for a little supper? I’ll have Mrs. Landon bring you some soup.”
“No, Mother. I can’t stay.”
“Jasper?” She gave him the same searching look that she’d given him since he was a child. It was almost as though she were looking inside of him.
“It’s fine,” he replied. “Everything’s fine. I hope.”
“I’m worried about you. You’re acting strangely.”
He sighed. “I know.”
She gave him an odd look of concern but nodded. “I’ll be in the parlor.” She left, to his relief.
He turned to Frederick, who had a clean and dry suit of clothes set out for him.
Chapter Seventeen
He rode hard for Kirby Hall, unsure as to what he would find. The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle. When he arrived, he was shown to the parlor. When he walked in, his eyes went to Selina.
She sat on the settee, dry and safe—a book was open in her lap. She smiled at him sadly. He felt like he’d been slapped.
Has she changed her mind? What is the meaning of this?
“Your Grace,” Lord Kirby said. “Welcome!”
“Lord Kirby, Lady Kirby,” he replied, bowing to them. “Lady Leah. Lady Selina.” His eyes gravitated toward Selina, who returned her gaze toward her book, which sat open in her lap. Jasper joined the family on the settee. They were all looking at him curiously.
“Your Grace,” Lady Leah said. “Are you well?”
He tugged at his cravat. “Yes,” he lied.
“What brings you out to Kirby Hall this evening?” Lord Kirby asked affably.
“I—” He hadn’t thought of an explanation. “I wanted to make sure that everyone is well.”
“Very well, thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Kirby said.
There was silence. Jasper was filled with wretched thoughts. He looked over toward Selina.
“And you, Lady Selina? Are you well?” he asked.
She looked up from her book. “Very well, Your Grace. Thank you for asking.”
His mind seemed to falter—here she was, safe—although, biting her full, lush lip anxiously, a gesture which made Jasper dark, improper thoughts, his whole body reacting in want of her.
Why the distance? Why hasn’t she shown up?
* * *
“Lady Leah?” the Duke asked, turning his gaze toward her. “Are you well?”
She beamed at him. “Very well, Your Grace.” She looked down at the monogram that she was embroidering.
Leah was glad that the Duke had come to see how they were. How very thoughtful of him. She felt pride at his solicitousness toward her and her family’s wellbeing.
“Selina?” her mother said. “Would you care to play that new piece I was talking of?”
Selina grinned, closing her book. “Of course, Aunt Georgiana.”
The two of them stood and walked over to the pianoforte. Leah shot her father a pointed look. He smiled at her, not taking the hint.
She’d spoken with her mother of this—that she and the Duke would need space—little moments together, which would help them to progress. Mother had agreed wholeheartedly.
Leah tilted her head, pointedly widening her eyes at her father, who finally got the message. Smiling, he stood up, walked over to the window where he looked out at the sky and hands clasped at his back.
Leah beamed at the Duke, who was seated on the settee beside her, his hands folded upon his knee.
“Is your cousin well?” he asked.
“She just said that she is,” she replied, then lowered her voice. “I mean, my father was very disappointed in her yesterday. She snuck out with only her maid to go traipsing about the countryside.”
His eyes widened. “Oh?”
“He’s or
dered her to remain indoors,” she replied, raising her eyebrow. “Otherwise, he’ll send her away.” It wasn’t true. But the Duke didn’t need to know that.
“Oh,” he replied. “It’s very dangerous out. I—I hope you haven’t been out on your own.”
“I never would, Your Grace,” she replied, happy to prove herself well-behaved.
“Good, good,” he said nodding.
She waited for him to bring up the next topic, ready to entertain him with a little anecdote about her visit to Lady Morton, earlier that day. But he was silent. When she glanced over at him, he seemed deep in thought.
“What are you thinking of, Your Grace?” she asked, curiously.
He blinked, suddenly brought out of whatever reverie had him so distracted. “What did you say, My Lady?”
“I was wondering what it could be that has you so thoughtful,” she said.
“Nothing, My Lady.” He shook his head, looking down at his hand. His lashes were so dark against his cheek. Leah thought of how her children might have lashes like that.
He stood up suddenly. “Well, Lord Kirby. I’ve intruded for too long on your evening.”
“Don’t be so formal, Your Grace,” the Earl said. “You’re going to be family soon. You’re most welcome to stay, for as long as you like.”
“I must be going, My Lord.”
“Do not forget, Your Grace,” Leah said. “You promised to take me riding on your estate tomorrow.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” he replied. “And Lady Selina is coming as well, is she not?” He glanced over to where she sat, beside Leah’s mother.
“I am, indeed, Your Grace,” Selina replied.
Leah felt annoyance, and she looked over at her father. “Is she allowed out? After her behavior, the other day?” she asked.
“You will be accompanied, so there’s no reason that I can think of,” the Earl said, to Leah’s disappointment. Leah smiled at the Duke, anyway.
“I will send the barouche-landau, to bring you both to Gillingham,” he said.
“How kind of you,” Leah said, twirling one of her curls, then curtsying to him. He bowed low.
And then, he was gone.
Leah sat down. There. They had to have made some progress. Not as much as she’d hoped, but these things took time. The horse-riding, no doubt, would prove fruitful. She’d make sure to be near him, there to dazzle him with her gentility, when set beside Selina, who was proving herself wild.
* * *
Selina felt mortified. She stared at the pianoforte’s keyboard, her face hot. How could Leah have humiliated her thus? Especially after the hurt look on Jasper’s face, when he saw her, sitting there. She knew that he was confused, perhaps even hurt. And there was not a thing she could do to assuage it.
She stood up. “Excuse me, Aunt Georgiana,” she said. “I’m feeling tired.”
“Of course, dear. You do look flushed.”
Selina held up her skirts, so she could walk as quickly as she could. She practically broke into a run as she made her way down the hall to her room. She entered, closing the door behind her.
She made it to the window, just in time to see him, riding away. He was on a different horse, one that she’d never seen before.
She watched him, until he disappeared from view, thinking of the way that he’d looked at her—as though she’d slapped him, and she wasn’t able to do anything to reassure him that her affections were unchanged.
Selina breathed a long sigh. Her chest ached in the space beneath her sternum. She was caught. Completely unable to do anything.
She knocked on the door to Faith’s small room that was beside her own. “Faith?” she called out. There was no answer. When she peered inside, her maid was gone, likely down in the kitchen, eating her own dinner.
She closed the door. When faced with her solitary room, she burst into tears of frustration. She knelt down on the floor, her face in her hands.
How was this supposed to work? She’d never felt so stuck in her entire life. Her parents had raised her to feel confident, to advocate for herself. The situation here took all of that away from her because everything needed to be such a secret.
She hated the way that the moment he entered the room, something inside her bloomed. She couldn’t help but stare at his lips, recalling their taste, the way that they felt when pressed against her own. She hated the way that his eyes took her in, the passion that she saw there. She hated how she had to hide behind a veneer of propriety when she felt like she was on fire with a burning desire that never felt satiated.
She considered tomorrow’s outing wretchedly as she wiped at her cheeks with her hands. She’d have to see Jasper with Leah, yet again. And she’d have to put on a jolly face. Right back where she’d started.
She got up off of the floor. There. She’d had her moment of weakness. Now that it was over, she could move forward. She would make sure to have a moment with him tomorrow, reassure him.
* * *
Jasper went straight home. He joined his mother in the parlor but found himself pacing in agitation. He excused himself, noting her concerned expression.
Alone, in his room, he could barely sit still. He was afraid to have hope. On the one hand, she might have been prevented by her uncle. However, it might also be that she’d changed her mind. He didn’t know if he could bear it if she had.
Finally, he sat in his armchair, staring into the flames. He got himself a clean glass and his decanter of bourbon, pouring himself a healthy serving. He took a long sip, swallowing. He exhaled, feeling the liquor burn his throat. He took another sip, feeling the alcohol hit his bloodstream.
What will I do if she’s changed her mind?
Ever since he met Selina, he’d felt like he was finally master of his own fate. That he’d escaped a loveless match. What a cruel twist of fate, if she’d suddenly fallen out of love with him.
Could she be so capricious? She was always so lighthearted with everyone. Why should he presume that she wasn’t also doing it with him? After all, she’d declared that she would only marry for love, and nothing less.
He would speak with her tomorrow. He would have her tell him all. He sipped his bourbon, his eyes on the flames in the grate. They danced as they crackled.
His mind wandered to what he would do when he finally got her alone. How he’d kiss her full, bee-stung lips. Place his hands on her slim waist as he held her close to him. Wrap his fingers in her golden hair. Bring her to his bed, make her utter his name, begging for more.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day was sunny, warm. The perfect day for riding. Leah was prepared—she’d donned the riding habit that she rarely wore. It was dark blue, and it fitted her figure at the waist, showing it off to her best advantage.
She glanced at herself approvingly in the mirror, tying the bow of her black top hat beneath her chin. Her hair was pulled into a low chignon at the nape of her neck, and she’d had her maid frame her face with curls.
Downstairs, she ran into Selina and her lady’s maid, who was going to chaperone them. Selina wore a forest-green riding habit with a large dark green satin bow at the neck. It was stylish. Not to mention, it matched the Duke’s favorite jacket. Leah decided then and there that she would have one just like it for her own.
“Is that the new fashion?” Leah asked. Selina’s sleeves were fitted, and the skirt of the habit wasn’t as full as Leah’s was.
“Yes, it is!” Selina said, smiling at her.
“Of course.” Leah’s sleeves were ballooned out. The skirt was fuller, hiding her figure. She felt dowdy. Selina placed her smart hat on her head, tying it underneath her chin.
Leah eyed Selina. She was going to have to do better. She wished that her mother had the same inclination for the latest fashions, just like Aunt Araminta. It had given Selina the edge that Leah didn’t. And Selina didn’t need anything else going in her favor.
When Leah became Duchess, she would need to be more in tune with the latest fa
shions, and she supposed, riding habits, too. She sighed to herself. She was going to have to do it a lot—pretending to like things that the Duke was interested in, and she was not. They lacked similar interests entirely, but that wasn’t going to stop Leah.
Leah’s lady’s maid came bustling down the stairs.
Sins 0f An Intoxicating Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 16
