Duke I’d Like to F…

by Sierra Simone

  “You heard me. I commend an attempt to save your wretched soul by listening to one of my sermons, but do not approach Ada again. She is quite content with her life here and I won’t have her head turned by a wastrel sinner from London.”

  “Is she content?” Jasper asked bluntly. “It does not seem so.”

  “She will be. Good day, Your Grace.”

  With those rather ominous words, Reverend Blair turned on his heel and went to talk to other members of his congregation.

  Jasper’s brow furrowed. In other circumstances the warning might have been comical, but not from this man. It was a good thing he would be seeing Ada soon.

  She needed comfort and respite more than ever.

  The following morning dawned cloudy and cool, and Ada was grateful for the light rug draped over her lap as Ruth and Martha’s small, bright yellow open carriage sped toward Bayshill Road.

  The Royal Well was Cheltenham’s oldest mineral spring and had been discovered nearly one hundred years earlier by the pigeons she and Jasper so loathed. A man named Captain Skillicorne had developed the site and enjoyed moderate success, but a visit from King George, Queen Charlotte, and the princesses back in 1788 had transformed the area into a bustling spa town. Nowadays Cheltenham had several spring facilities and was highly regarded as a health destination.

  However, when the carriage pulled up in the clearing set aside for vehicles, Ada’s heart sank to see only two other conveyances, neither of them Jasper’s. As she’d finally readied herself for the delicate and long overdue conversation, she wanted it done with as soon as possible.

  “He’ll be here soon, I’m sure of it,” said Martha, patting her arm as Ruth hitched the reins of both horses to one of the wooden posts provided.

  Grateful once again for her godmothers’ unwavering support—they had been entirely sympathetic when she’d told them what she had prematurely blurted—Ada climbed down out of the carriage and approached the mineral spring and pump room as one might approach the edge of a steep cliff: with great reluctance and extreme caution.

  “I cannot believe I agreed to this,” she said, shaking her head as the three of them walked on. “And don’t say it is good for me; the expressions on those faces there says otherwise.”

  Ruth laughed as the group in front of them hurried away; lips puckered, brows furrowed, and hands clutching bellies. “You don’t have to drink a full tumbler. Martha takes a single mouthful and tips the rest into a shrub. I wonder how many others do the same thing. Must be hardy plants about, none have died yet.”

  “Let us give praise for noble vegetation,” said Martha. “So stoically British.”

  Ada laughed as they paid the longtime attendant, Mrs. Hannah Forty. Each received a freshly pumped half-pint tumbler of water from the twelve-foot-deep well. On the advice of physicians and men of science, the pump room was only open to members of the public during the summer months, between the hours of seven and ten in the morning. Allegedly the waters assisted with conditions such as indigestion, rheumatism, ulcers, asthma, and feminine complaints, but the only result she’d ever experienced was a headache and rather urgent need for the chamber pot. “Why do you come here rather than the Montpellier well? Far jollier over there with the band playing.”

  Ruth snorted. “I prefer to take my medicine without some twit beating a drum or blowing a trumpet in my ear. A few gulps of repulsive mineral water shall wash away any guilt related to our excellent and varied collection of sins, and this holy occasion must be treated with great solemnity and decorum.”

  Ada meekly raised her tumbler. “Let us drink—”

  “Oh look,” said Martha. “It’s Gilroy.”

  Thank heavens.

  She watched Jasper advance with great appreciation. His muscular legs ate up the distance between them, and he looked almost too handsome in a dark brown jacket, gray waistcoat, and black trousers, with highly polished Hessians. No one else here knew that her duke looked even better without that expensive clothing, advancing or retreating.

  “Miss Blair. Miss Lacey. Miss Kinloch. Good morning to you all,” he said when he reached them. “About to do your watery penance, I see.”

  “We are,” said Ruth cheerfully as she curtsied, then moved to stand beside Martha. “What a lovely jacket, Your Grace. Almost the same color as Ada’s eyes.”

  Jasper’s lips quirked. “Er…thank you.”

  Ada glared at her godmother. Rather fortunate for Ruth that she’d stepped away, otherwise she would have enjoyed a sharp elbow to the ribcage for that mischief. “We all look lovely today.”

  “You do indeed,” he said, nodding. “But don’t let me interrupt your water-taking. I understand it must be consumed soon after pumping to enjoy the full benefit.”

  “You aren’t interrupting,” Ada said hastily. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather sample less than this mineral water…oh!”

  As his arm jostled hers, an arc of water splashed out of her tumbler onto the ground, leaving it three-quarters empty. Jasper’s expression was the very portrait of contrition, but a glint of amusement lurked in those striking blue eyes, and it made her feel warm and tingly inside. He’d done that deliberately to spare her…but this time after she’d stated her dislike of it, not before.

  “Miss Blair!” he exclaimed. “I do beg your pardon. How unforgivably clumsy of me.”

  I love you.

  Rather than three words launched unthinkingly in the heat of passion, they settled around her heart like a warm blanket. It wasn’t just that he could make her scream with pleasure, or that he admired her curves. It was everything. His care for her well-being. The terrible jests. Their banter. Good heavens, he’d even left her father temporarily speechless at St. Mary’s, and no one had achieved that, ever. Her late mother had always inclined her head and murmured “yes, Mr. Blair,” even when he was entirely wrong.

  She would never have to do that with Jasper. With him, she had a voice and could be herself. No, more than herself. The woman she’d always dreamed of being: bold and passionate and daring.

  “Indeed unforgivable,” Ada whispered. Then she added wickedly, “The only way to atone is to take the waters yourself.”

  His eyebrows near flew into his hairline. “Anything but that.”

  Ruth cackled. “Allow me to fetch you a tumbler, Your Grace.”

  Soon they stood in a little circle, staring at their tumblers like one might stare at a viper about to strike.

  “Who is going to go first?” asked Martha.

  “Ladies before gentlemen,” said Jasper promptly.

  “Since Ruth dragged us here, she may go first,” said Ada.

  Her godmother rolled her eyes, raised the tumbler to her lips and swallowed the entire amount without so much as a splutter. Martha went next, taking one gulp of water before squawking like an outraged gull and flinging the remaining contents at a hapless shrub.

  “My word,” wheezed Martha. “It’s an assault to the tongue. Worse than seawater. Your turn, Ada, then His Grace.”

  Ada lifted the tumbler, drained the remaining liquid, and shuddered violently. Ugh. It was possible her mind wiped the experience each time she sampled the waters, because she didn’t remember it ever being this dreadful.

  Her stomach roiled, and she pressed her knuckles to her mouth.

  “So very…cleansing,” she muttered eventually.

  “That leaves me,” said Jasper. “I would ask that you all stop smiling in that sharklike manner; I have taken the waters previously, you know.”

  “Drink,” chorused Ruth and Martha.

  With a shrug, he drained his tumbler. Seconds later, he coughed. Then coughed again.

  “Bloody damned pigeons,” Jasper said hoarsely.

  Unable to stop herself, Ada began to giggle. “And their terrible people.”

  Martha peered at them both. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Private jest,” said Ada.

  Ruth tilted her head, her expression thoughtf
ul. “The couple that jests together stays together. Martha and I are living proof of that. Now, Your Grace, you wish to speak to Ada privately. Perhaps you could escort us back to our carriage. It’s the yellow one with the two red roses painted on it.”

  Jasper looked startled at the casual revelation, almost as startled as Ada felt, for Ruth and Martha rarely told anyone their truth. But Ruth had chosen to tell him. Which meant in her opinion, he could be trusted.

  It was definitely time for an intimate conversation.

  Two very different thoughts were assailing him. The first, that dressed in a simple white gown with her blond curls piled atop her head, Ada looked like an angel walking among mere mortals. The second, it was both a surprise and a delight to be informed so casually that Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch were lovers rather than just friends.

  In truth, he’d been curious since the day they’d walked into his library, but he’d not asked Ada nor commented on the matter, for it was their tale to tell. While he knew several ladies in London who bedded women, with Reverend Blair leading Charlton Kings society, it was hard to believe Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch’s true relationship might be common knowledge. Which meant they had chosen to tell him. And this acceptance by Ada’s friends, two women who obviously loved her like a daughter, meant a great deal. A new sensation for the Duke of Gilroy, when he’d always sat at the top of the society tree and made his own rules.

  Yet another way that two weeks in the country had changed his life forever.

  His thoughts might be muddled in terms of what the future held, but one thing he did know: he could never sign a contract with another woman. Not after Ada.

  “So, Miss Blair,” he began, as they strolled toward the yellow carriage that almost resembled a barouche, Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch retreating discreetly to walk several feet behind them. “I know some things said in the heat of passion can be regretted later. Or not truly meant—”

  “I meant it,” Ada said quietly. “I love you.”

  Jasper almost stumbled at the certainty in her voice. How could she know for sure? “I see. Hmmm. Forgive me if I…that is…I’m not sure I truly understand love. My brother Tristan and his wife Tabitha are in love. So is my mother and her companion Mr. Winslow. But I didn’t think it was for me. Emotions and so forth. I’m not an emotional man and don’t enjoy talking about feelings. I was happy with mistress contracts. Well, perhaps not entirely happy, but they sufficed. Now they don’t. They bloody well don’t. And I purchased you an extremely bloody silly gift,” he finished with great irritation.

  Ada glanced up at him, her gaze warm. “I heard about the thimbles. It was so kind of you to buy them for Ruth and Martha, they were thrilled. Am I allowed to know what the bloody silly gift is?”

  At last they reached the carriage parked about twenty feet from his curricle; he’d not wanted his ducal carriage with its instantly recognizable crest here today. A plethora of witnesses were certainly not required for an act of sentimentality that no one in London would believe. Fortunately, apart from Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch, the only other party currently at the Royal Well were standing a great distance away in front of the long rectangular building adjacent to the pavilion, a room that occasionally hosted balls.

  Jasper sighed and delved under his jacket sleeve to remove the little blue satin pouch dangling around his wrist. “Here. It’s filled with dried herbs.”

  She took the pouch and lifted it to her nose. “Mmmm, is that dill? Such a pleasant fragrance.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t get it for the scent. Dill is for…er…protection.”

  “Protection from what?”

  Now he felt even more unsure about the gift. What if it went against her personal religious beliefs?

  Jasper looked away, but he could hardly halt the conversation now. “Ghosts,” he said abruptly. “Now you need not ever fear the privy closet. Or any haunted room for that matter, should you be on a Radcliffe-esque adventure.”

  Ada went very still. “How did you know?”

  “How did I know what?”

  “That this would be the p-perfect gift.”

  At the wobble in her voice, Jasper shifted uncomfortably and glanced across at Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch, who were feeding their horses handfuls of oats and pretending not to listen to the conversation. “It’s not a diamond bracelet. Only cost a shilling.”

  Ada sniffled. “What would I do with a diamond bracelet? And we both already know the delights that can be purchased for a shilling.”

  Indeed. Hours and hours of lusty bedsport with a pert minx who had somehow burrowed through his defenses to stake a claim in his heart.

  “You truly like it?” he asked instead.

  “It is a gift given with careful thought for my preferences. I shall cherish it always.”

  Jasper cleared his throat against a boulder that had unaccountably lodged there. After a lifetime of being in the position of power and knowing the words to say, of neatly arranging his world with emotionless contracts, it was very disconcerting to suddenly be floundering. Ada wore her heart on her sleeve. His had been locked in a vault beneath two feet of solid rock.

  How, exactly, did one go about taking the first step of a declaration?

  Damn it, this might actually be something Tristan could be helpful with.

  “Er…well. Good. Ada—”

  “You don’t have to say it back, you know. I don’t expect that. I feel what I feel, but I am also a practical woman who understands how the world works. You are a duke who reigns over society in London. I am a vicar’s daughter from Charlton Kings. You made a dream of mine come true and I will forever be grateful for that, but I know what happens at the end of August.”

  Jasper blinked, utterly nonplussed. While he knew next to nothing about declarations, he was quite certain they didn’t include the words “practical woman who understands how the world works.” Weren’t there supposed to be hearts and flowers? A unicorn prancing along a rainbow? Goddamned bloody fireworks?

  “What happens at the end of August, Ada?” he asked. “Perhaps you tell me.”

  They stared at each other for an endless moment. But before she could reply, a flurry of movement caught his eye, and Jasper turned his head to see a hackney and several gigs approaching. Even with Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch standing nearby the two of them talking intently would still cause gossip, and with Reverend Blair already having warned him away, he didn’t want any unpleasantness for her at home.

  “Can we meet at the cottage?” Ada asked eventually, stepping away from him and moving toward the yellow carriage. “Anywhere else there will be tattling tongues.”

  “Tomorrow,” he said brusquely, so annoyed at the ill-timed arrivals that he wanted to kick stones. How dare visitors visit. Did they not understand the importance of the occasion? A ducal declaration, for God’s sake!

  “Tomorrow,” she agreed, and minutes later the three women were on their way.

  Jasper unhitched the reins of both horses from the wooden post, and soon his curricle headed in the opposite direction. His mood only grew darker on the journey back to his estate, but as he rounded the stable block an unwanted surprise awaited him: one lavish and very familiar travelling carriage sitting in the driveway.

  “Darling!” called his impeccably gowned, silver-haired mother from the front steps as she waved madly in her exuberant style, the dashing but completely bald Winslow at her side.

  What on earth were they doing here?

  After jumping down from his curricle, he tried to march but instead staggered a little toward them. They both rushed forward.

  “Are you ill, Gilroy?” asked Winslow, frowning with concern. “Do you need a physician?”

  Lavinia, Duchess of Gilroy laughed merrily. “No, Winny. He’s never looked this…this thwarted. Which leads me to believe my son, the duke renowned for contracts, composure, and control, has at last succumbed to a matter of the heart. Come along, Gil, you may tell us everything over tea.”

&nbs
p; Jasper grimaced.

  Christ.

  Chapter Seven

  Yesterday, Jasper had given her the perfect gift. But in true Blurting Ada fashion, she’d interrupted his thoughts and quite ruined the moment. Worse, she’d done the thing she’d scolded him for—deciding she knew the answer without discussion.

  Why? Why had she leaped in to assure him he didn’t have to say he loved her back, and that she knew what would happen at the end of August? There was only one word to describe such behavior. Henwit. And being overly emotional at receiving the little satin pouch of dill was no excuse whatsoever.

  With a muttered curse, Ada gave up trying to re-sew a loose button on her father’s best black jacket and stabbed the needle into a tattered velvet pincushion. Then she stroked the pouch that hung reassuringly from her left wrist as she attempted to wrangle her thoughts. She’d not slept a wink last night, and the clock on the parlor mantelpiece mockingly advised the time to be eleven in the morning rather than two in the afternoon when she could escape to see Jasper at the cottage. They needed to settle this once and for all. No assumptions, just honest conversation.

  “Ah, there you are.”

  She looked up to see her father standing in the parlor doorway. Oddly, he appeared almost…cheerful. The back of her neck prickled. “Was there something you needed, Father? Tea perhaps? I can prepare you a tray before I go and visit Ruth and M—”

  “You won’t be visiting them today; I think you’ve spent far too much time in the company of Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch lately. But you’ll be delighted with my surprise, which will make you very, very happy.”

  Ada’s stomach curdled, both at the denied request to leave the house, and the way he’d already announced the expected reactions to his news. Ernest Blair did not care—and had never cared—about her true feelings. “Surprise?”

  “Indeed. I have arranged a marriage for you!”

  Shock hit her like a blow to the solar plexus, and for a moment she struggled to breathe.

  Marriage?