Falling for a Duke (Timeless Regency Collection Book 8)

by Rebecca Connolly

That seemed to make her smile. “What are you doing now, then? Going to see Mr. Gordon?”

  “No.” David straightened up in the saddle. “I’m off to Ravensmere. I will find a real solution to our problems that will profit more than just my family coffers, and I’m going to your father to force him to discuss the situation with me, like men should.”

  Ceana seemed surprised by that, her green eyes widening, then her slender throat worked on a swallow, and she smiled. “Then you’d better take me along, David, so I can say all the spiteful things to him that you shouldn’t.”

  His name.

  He couldn’t breathe for a moment, just as had happened before, and all he could do was smile down at her, thrilled beyond measure and absurdly delighted by her. He held out a hand, which she took at once, and then swung her up behind him. Her arms fastened around his waist, and his heart skipped two beats, which he prayed she hadn’t noticed. Her chin tucked in against his shoulder.

  He smiled to himself, wishing he could laugh. “Full of surprises, Ceana Shaw,” he murmured.

  “You have no idea, Your Grace.”

  “David.”

  “David.”

  He grinned outright and dug his heels into the horse, and they galloped off toward Ravensmere. Ceana did not say anything as they rode, but her hold on him remained tight. David smiled the entire time.

  They arrived at Ravensmere too quickly for his taste, but there was nothing to be done about that. Ceana surprised him by letting him help her down from the horse, and he didn’t bother releasing her hand as they hurried into the house itself—not that she voiced any complaints about it.

  On the contrary, she pulled him along by the hand and took him past several random relatives, it seemed, and directly into her father’s study, where Sir Andrew sat behind his desk.

  “Your Grace,” Sir Andrew greeted mildly, rising to bow to him.

  David waved him down, his hand feeling bereft now that Ceana had released it and stood just behind his left shoulder.

  “What can I do for you?” Sir Andrew asked as he sat, spreading his hands out.

  David smiled at him, then pressed his knuckles into the desk and leaned onto them. “Sir Andrew, I am here to discuss what we can do to improve the lives of our tenants and increase our profits from the estates, all without losing all sense of ourselves, the Highland locals, or standing in the way of progress as it comes. I’m determined to put both our minds together, if not the minds of several others, and come up with a solution that will surprise us all, most especially me.”

  Sir Andrew appraised him thoughtfully for a moment, glanced behind David to his daughter, then quirked a smile. He looked back to David. “Where do we begin?”

  Ceana Shaw had seen a great many things in the Highlands, having been brought up in them, but rarely had anything truly surprised her.

  Seeing the Duke of Ashcombe take down the fence rails that divided his land from everyone else’s, working alongside his tenants and theirs, she could truly say she was beyond surprised.

  She stood there—staring at him, taking in the sight, letting it sink in and process—for an absurdly long period of time before she could truly admit that what she was seeing was truth and not imagination.

  And then she stood there for a longer time just for the sheer pleasure of it.

  He was a ridiculously attractive man after all, and he had no trouble keeping up with the rest of the men in the physical demands of their activities. He was completely without finery here, his country clothes filthy and worn, same as the others. His linen shirt grew damp with perspiration, same as the others, and clung to him.

  A man of such high rank and title should not have the build and stature of an active laborer, and yet he did. He did not shirk in his efforts in the least, and she’d seen him outwork some of the others more than once.

  After that first day, she’d determined to come out daily and witness the efforts, as they concerned her lands as much as his, and nobody had questioned her on it.

  David was a man possessed, it seemed, driven beyond anything Ceana had seen in any man. It was in his face when he worked alongside the others, and it was in his eyes when he was apart from them. There was a new energy about him—an intensity and engagement that caught others up and drove them all to the same lengths.

  It made Ceana curious.

  Despite his rigorous days, they continued to ride out together every morning at his insistence. He claimed it was his favorite time of day, and while they did not spend as much time out and about as they had done before, they teased and laughed now more than they had then.

  Ceana hadn’t told him this, but it was her favorite time of day as well.

  Any time she spent with David was her favorite time.

  He was still impertinent and flirtatious, sometimes blatantly so, but rather than scold him for any of it, Ceana only laughed more. She was coming to find that that was David’s way, and it was growing more and more endearing. Particularly now that she had also seen him when he was serious, and even angry.

  His indignation over the treatment of Highlanders during these clearances warmed her heart and gave her a real insight into the sort of man he was. He might choose to see the world with a lighthearted glint, but underneath he was full of honor and sincerity. He did not ignore what was real and serious in the world, nor did he set himself above any of it.

  What Ceana liked most about him, however, was a rather personal and purely selfish thing: he saw her.

  While she could never claim to being ignored throughout her life, she’d always felt as though she were the slightest bit invisible. She’d always been just Ceana to everybody around her, despite being the daughter of a baronet, and nobody had ever really taken her seriously.

  David did. Everything she said, he listened to with intensity and enthusiasm. He smiled at her in a way no one ever had, and she never had the sensation that he was looking through her or past her. He always looked at her.

  Just her.

  Ceana Shaw.

  He’d made her love the sound of her own name, as ridiculous as that seemed, or perhaps it was only the way he said it.

  Whichever it was, she had never been more pleased to be Ceana Shaw than when she was with him.

  And right now, he was headed towards her, dirty, sweaty, disheveled, and utterly attractive, smiling as though she was all he’d needed to see.

  Which was clearly a sign of insanity on her part, as a duke would have no cause to look at a girl like her with such a smile.

  If such a smile existed.

  “Ceana Shaw, you’re a grand sight for weary eyes,” he said as he approached her, trying for a Scottish accent and failing.

  She laughed with a dramatic wince. “That’s a terrible accent, Your Grace.”

  He chuckled and dropped himself on the ground beside her, though she sat on a log set up by one of the tenants. “I’ve never been good with accents. It’s a miracle I can manage my own.”

  Ceana smiled down at him. “If you stay in the Highlands long enough, you might pick something up.”

  David leaned on his arms and peered up at her in the bright light of day. “And why would I want to stay in the Highlands that long? It’s not as though these are the loveliest hills and brooks in the world or the air is as fresh as a spring morning at any given moment. And the estate is quite a shabby house with nothing to recommend to anyone.”

  Ceana rolled her eyes dramatically, looking over at the house in question not too far in the distance. It was one of the most elegant houses she had ever seen, and though it was in want of some upkeep, it had always given her a sharp sense of envy that it could never be hers. It was grand without being ostentatious and perfectly suited for the country without being rustic. She would have moved to Dovenbard in a second had Ravensmere not been destined for her.

  “And,” David continued with a sigh, “it’s not as though I’ve found myself drawn to a fair Highland lass with a sharp tongue and a quick wit, whose company hap
pens to be the most pleasant of any woman on earth.”

  She could only be grateful that she wasn’t looking at him at the moment, as she found herself without words or breath. She plucked at the petals of the small flower she held in her hand as her heart burned in her throat.

  “Ah,” she finally managed. “So you’ve finally met Mary McDonald, have you?”

  “I have, yes,” he said without missing a beat, his tone the same offhand manner as before. “Lovely girl. I’ll have to steal her away from Mr. Gordon before she gets too comfortable with the idea of a polite and capable man for a husband.”

  Ceana nodded quickly, laughing as her pulse resumed a normal rhythm. “Yes, indeed you should. Imagine having to be so saddled for the rest of her life. She’d never recover.”

  “Poor dear.” David sighed. “And to be stuck on the estate at Dovenbard with the man she loves?” He paused, then laughed in earnest. “Dovenbard. Who in the world named the place that? It sounds like a pub.”

  Ceana giggled in surprise, tossing her head back. “I’ve never thought of that.”

  “If anybody needs me,” David said as though he were speaking to various others, “I’ll be down at the Dove and Bard for lukewarm beverages and inedible food.” He grinned, making Ceana’s breath catch, and then gave her a speculative look. “You live in a birdhouse too, Ceana Shaw. Ravensmere? Have I missed another important bit of Highland tradition?”

  “Not at all. Ravensmere is a relatively new name for the house. It was part of my mother’s dowry and once bore the name Ellen thìreach.”

  “Eh-len hee-rich?” he repeated slowly, actually quite good at the accent. “What does that mean?”

  “Ellen’s hill.” Ceana smiled softly. “She was my grandfather’s only daughter, so he named it for her.”

  David nodded thoughtfully as he picked one of the flowers near Ceana’s feet. “Lovely. So why change it?”

  “As I understand it,” Ceana said, watching his long fingers toy with the delicate petals, “my father always called my mother a raven because of her dark hair and eyes. So when she passed, he wanted to give the home a better tribute—hence Ravensmere.”

  He grunted at that and looked toward Dovenbard again. “And I have a house with a pub-inspired name. Charming tribute to the family name.”

  Ceana picked another flower and played with it as a breeze picked up strands of her hair and made them dance. “What is your family name, Your Grace?”

  “David.”

  “Your family name is David?” she teased with a snort. “That’s rather unfortunate for you and doesn’t say much for your parents’ creativity.”

  David barked a laugh and sat up fully, turning to raise a brow at her. “My family name is Chambers, oh impertinent Ceana Shaw. Satisfied?”

  Ceana smiled at him. “It is very nice to meet you, David Chambers.”

  He smiled at her, the slow sort of smile that heated her from the inside out. “Thank you.” He sat back and looked out over the land around them. “Why is it, Ceana Shaw, that the farther away from London I am, the more myself I feel?”

  Ceana tilted her head, watching him. “Perhaps you belong in the Highlands.”

  He laughed to himself. “Perhaps I do.”

  Her heart skidded to a halt, and she bit back a delighted smile.

  “Your Grace!” called one of the men from the fields. “We’re ready for you!”

  David groaned and waved a hand, climbing to his feet. “This is the trouble with being the only capable man.” He sighed. “I am in such demand.”

  Ceana scoffed without shame. “What a challenge, Your Grace. What are you doing, anyway?”

  He gestured to the fields. “We’re expanding the lands for the sheep, obviously. We’re combining lands with your father’s to give them the space needed without infringing on farms in existence. What did you think we were taking down fence rails for—artistic perspective?” He gave her an utterly superior look before starting away.

  “Don’t injure yourself, Your Grace,” Ceana called after him. “We don’t have anybody fine enough to tend your wounds here.”

  He turned to face her, walking backward now. “You’d do well enough, Ceana Shaw, if you’d stop snarling like a feral cat!” He winked at her, then turned to jog back to the others.

  Ceana smiled at his retreating figure, then picked herself up and started back to Ravensmere. David would be over later for an evening with them, and all of the extended family would be there. He had claimed that morning that he was looking forward to it, but Ceana could not see how that was possible.

  There was more eccentricity in her relatives than in all the rest of the world combined. Poor David would have no idea what to expect. He would undoubtedly hear more stories than he ever wanted to and learn more than he should.

  But she would be happy to see him. They’d spent time together in the relaxed setting of their riding and while he worked in the fields or with the sheep, but since that first night he’d dined at Ravensmere, he’d not seen her properly dressed up as a young lady.

  Tonight she wanted to change that. She would have one of the maids come up and do her hair; she would wear one of her rarely worn dresses reserved for dances and evenings out, which she rarely did anymore; and she would don her newest gloves, which had only been worn once.

  She would do all of the things that a young lady of Society would do in London when a duke was coming for dinner. She wanted to be the sort of woman that David was used to consorting with. She had no idea if he would ever be able to see her as more than the insolent Highland girl always causing him aggravation, but she had to try.

  She wanted to try.

  Ceana Shaw wanted David, Duke of Ashcombe, to see her as the sort of woman that would interest him.

  Nobody would believe that, but it didn’t matter.

  She skipped into the house when she arrived, grateful that everyone else was still out helping in the new venture between the Ravensmere and Dovenbard estates. It was unorthodox, that was true, but it was also rather ingenious. Her father had been crowing about it for days—the brilliance and perfection of the proposal—and it was almost as if the success of the venture did not actually matter.

  The details were still limited, even to her. All Ceana knew was that the two estates were going to work together in various ways, and there was a great deal of excitement with the agents, tenants, and owners about the lot of it. There was plenty to work out, to be sure, and some of the efforts would undoubtedly fail, but nothing that would ruin anyone or force anyone out.

  Everything was changing with David here.

  At first, she hadn’t thought that to be a good thing by any stretch of the imagination. But now . . .

  Now she was delighted by it.

  Hours later, nearly torn apart from the anxiety, Ceana sat at the opposite end of the room from David, reduced to staring at him like a pathetic creature. Her father had arranged the seats, despite that being Ceana’s traditional task, and it had all played out before she’d had a chance to say anything on the subject.

  David looked glorious. Any hint of the filthy, exerted man from before was completely gone. In his place was the man for whom evening dress had been created, who smiled and charmed all around him with such ease, and yet the same energy and vigor from that earlier man lay beneath the surface.

  He was captivating, and Ceana was willing to be captivated.

  She was completely ignoring everyone around her—all cousins she cared little for—and they paid her little attention. They always had, and tonight would be no different.

  She didn’t care. She didn’t want them to pay attention to her.

  She wanted David to.

  He looked down the table at her often, and perhaps she imagined it, but she thought something in his eyes changed when they met hers. She thought his smile did something different when directed at her. She thought he was somehow altered in those brief moments.

  But then, Ceana had always been an imaginat
ive girl, and there was no way to know for certain.

  A clinking on glass interrupted her staring, and she looked up to find her father rising from his seat, setting his glass down.

  “Oh no,” she muttered under her breath to no one in particular.

  “Friends,” her father intoned boldly, “family, thank you for coming to dine with us this evening. It has been a lovely time of it, and I think it only right that this evening continue in the best way we Shaws know how!”

  The room lifted their glasses in a cheer, and Ceana held her breath, knowing her father well enough to know that this could all go horribly wrong in a second.

  “I think the best way to start,” her father continued, “is for us to have music! We’ve arranged for the tables to be cleared out of this hall and instruments to be brought in!”

  Everyone rose while servants and guests alike sprang into action. The tables were cleared out, and the pianoforte was brought in. Then, just as everyone began to take their seats again, Ceana caught sight of the harp being brought in.

  She jerked to look at her father, who clapped his hands for attention again.

  “Thank you, all, for making that a remarkably painless process—no thanks to you, Angus Flint.”

  Angus waved a pudgy hand in acknowledgment.

  Ceana’s father nodded at him, then rubbed his hands together. “Being that most of us here are completely inept in all things musical, and yet we wish to impress our guest, the Duke of Ashcombe, we will begin the evening with a song from my own dearest Ceana lass.”

  The room applauded, but Ceana stared at her father in disbelief, not bothering to hide the scowl from her face. He applauded with the rest and raised a brow at her.

  She could not embarrass him, or herself, by refusing, but with David here . . .

  She rose with only a fraction of the grace she had hoped to display tonight and moved to the harp, her fingers suddenly tingling in anticipation. She hardly ever performed for company, much as she enjoyed playing for herself, but there was nothing to be done about that now.

  She sank onto the stool, paused to collect her wits, and then nodded to herself, leaning the harp against her shoulder.