“So are the gents, from what I hear. Even my brothers, blast them.”
“Who do they think it will be?”
“They’ve both chosen different ladies. They are both wrong. One lady talks so quietly that I must always bend over in order to get near enough to hear what she is saying. Marriage to her would give me an aching back before too long.”
Jayne laughed lightly. “And the other?”
“The opposite problem. When she begins to speak, I must pull back in order not to go deaf from her caterwauling. Makes me appear to have some sort of twitch.”
“I had no idea that the wife hunt was so troublesome.”
“It is quite the bother. Perhaps you should marry me to spare me the horror of it.”
He was teasing, surely. Still, she shook her head. “I think I shall be like your mother. A woman of means who can do as she pleases.”
“I would always allow you to do as you please.”
“Oh, Ainsley, you don’t half tempt me.” She rolled into a sitting position and saw the time on the clock on the mantel. “Good God! It’s half past ten! If someone sees that your coach—”
“I sent my driver on.”
She glanced back at him, and he gave her an innocent shrug. “I never leave my coach outside a lady’s residence.”
“And if I’d not admitted you?”
“I’d have walked, caught a hansom. I’m resourceful.” He pushed himself up, leaned in and kissed her cheek before she could stop him. Then he was out of the bed and crossing the room to retrieve his waistcoat, neckcloth, and jacket. “Let’s have some breakfast, shall we?”
It was the oddest thing, but she was suddenly quite ravenous. “You must leave immediately afterward.”
“You have my word.”
“You may borrow one of the rooms if you wish to freshen up.”
After bowing, he took his leave. When she reached for the bellpull, she realized she was smiling.
She looked better, much better, this morning. The circles were still there, but not as dark. He would see to it that she slept well tonight, so perhaps tomorrow they would be gone completely. And she was eating. It was ridiculous the pleasure that realization brought him.
She wore black. He wanted to see her in red.
“How long do you intend to stay in London?” he asked.
Her brow furrowed, she glanced up at him. “I’m not sure. Another week or so I suppose. Not much longer. I rather dread returning to Herndon Hall.”
“Come to Grantwood.”
With a sigh, she shook her head. “Ainsley—”
“You have few memories there.”
“You do know it is quite rude to interrupt.”
“My apologies. But I can decipher the objection written on your face. Hear me out.”
“Extend to you a courtesy you do not extend to me? Why ever should I?”
“You are irascible when you are with child.”
“You are stubborn,” she said.
“Quite.”
“Perhaps we’ll discuss it during dinner this evening.”
“So you will join me?”
“Did you ever doubt it?”
His answer to her was merely a grin. He’d not been teasing when he suggested she marry him, but based on her expression and response, she was still too fragile to consider such a proposal. He had won her over once before. He could do it again. It required only a bit of patience.
Chapter 27
Jayne could hardly believe the excitement that thrummed through her as she waited for Ainsley to arrive. A night away from the oppressive house. She needed it. She knew that she did.
She rather wished she didn’t have to wear black, but it helped to remind her to remain somber. Tonight was simply a break from the mourning. It did not remove it all together.
She was sitting in the parlor attempting not to appear anxious when she heard the rap on the front door. Her butler was soon standing in the doorway. “His Grace, the Duke of Ainsley.”
He bowed out and Ainsley strode in, so dashing in his swallow-tailed coat that it very nearly took her breath. He’d worn similar clothing last night, but for some reason he appeared even more handsome now. Lest he decide to try to kiss her on the cheek, she lowered her veil.
“I daresay, you didn’t have to go to so much bother for dinner with me,” she said as she walked over to him.
He extended his arm. “No bother.”
She placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her from the house. “I’ve actually been looking forward to this,” she confessed.
“As have I.”
He handed her up into the coach. As she settled onto her seat, he took his place opposite her. The coach lantern was lit, allowing her to see him clearly. She was surprised that he’d not chosen to sit beside her. The last time they journeyed alone in his coach, they’d been so close that a shadow could not have squeezed between them.
As the coach rattled over the cobblestones, she felt compelled to fill the silence. “The air seems to be less cloying tonight.”
“It’s better in the country.”
“Do you not like the city, then?”
“It serves a purpose, but I must confess that when I’m married I shall come to London as little as possible. I prefer the outdoor activities offered by the countryside.”
It was no doubt the reason he was so fit and that his skin was so bronzed.
“What is your favorite sport?” she asked.
“Swimming. I recently had a small pool built at Grantwood. If you come to visit, I shall teach you how to swim.”
She imagined the slickness of their wet bodies, gliding over each other. “Right now, I would no doubt sink straightaway to the bottom.”
He grinned. “I doubt it.”
Although the curtains were drawn on the coach and she couldn’t see the passing buildings, it did seem that they’d been traveling for some time now. “I didn’t think your residence was so far.”
“We’ll dine at my residence, but I have a little surprise planned first.”
She’d had far too many surprises of late. “And what would that be?”
“If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”
“This was not what we agreed to.”
“Trust me, Jayne. I believe you’ll enjoy what I have in mind.”
She became aware of the clatter of more vehicles and Ainsley’s coach slowing. “We’re in the thick of it.”
“You may peer out if you like,” he said.
She considered it. “I shall wait.”
Eventually the coach rolled to a stop. A footman opened the door and Ainsley disembarked before handing her down. They were in an alleyway, but still she recognized the building.
“Covent Garden? Are you mad?”
“It’s closed to the public tonight.”
“Then why are we here?”
He smiled broadly. “Because it’s open to us.”
“I’m in mourning. I can’t be entertained.”
“You shan’t be. The actors are atrocious, from what I hear.” Taking her hand, he led her toward the steps and a back door, where he knocked.
It opened and a wizened man peered out. “Your Grace!”
“Mr. Smith.”
“This way, sir.”
They went through back hallways and up two flights of stairs to a private box. Mr. Smith immediately left them. Jayne eased down to a plush chair. “Is this the royal box?”
“No, it’s mine,” Ainsley said as he joined her.
“How did you manage this?”
“Fairly easily.”
“It can’t have been easy.”
“Let’s just say that I’m a man of influence and leave it at that, shall we?”
A man of influence, of wealth, of generosity. A modest man. She’d been so afraid to trust the feelings she had developed for him during the month they were at Blackmoor. Could it be that she had seen the real man there?
Lights lit the stage.
The curtains were drawn back. Jayne leaned forward and allowed the actors to transport her to fair Verona.
He’d considered paying the actors to perform a comedy. He was certain she needed some laughter, but in the end he’d decided that she needed to shed some tears. He’d had a devil of a time leaving her this morning.
He focused on her now. She was giving rapt attention to the performance, almost as though she was on stage with them. Her eyes had been filled with excitement when he arrived at the residence. It had done his heart good. The exorbitant amount he was paying for private use of the theater was money well spent.
Theirs had been an unusual courtship, which began last November—even though he’d not realized it was courtship at the time. Courting her now was a bit more difficult because of all the social mores that insisted she be in seclusion.
As the star-crossed lovers were mourned, he saw the tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. He wanted to wipe them away himself, but tonight he intended to be only a friend. So he handed her his handkerchief and watched as she delicately patted her face.
And then a heart-wrenching sob broke free. He moved in, wrapping his arms around her, turning her into his chest, holding her near. He knew her sorrow had nothing to do with the performance. She was weeping now for all she’d lost and all that faced her.
“I hate this,” she said. “I hate that I’m all weepy.”
“You’ve earned the right to cry.”
Straightening, she eased back. “It makes me feel weak.”
“You’re hardly weak.”
He could see her studying his features, and he wondered where her thoughts wandered.
Taking a last swipe at her tears, she squared her shoulders. “I suppose we should be off.”
“Are you ready for dinner, then?”
“I’m actually quite famished.”
Dinner took place in Ainsley’s garden, with candles flickering on the small round table, while the gas lamps sent out a soft glow. She could smell the roses, and from time to time she caught a hint of his fragrance.
“You’ve gone to a great deal of bother,” she said.
“Not I. My servants. And I pay them well enough to do it.”
These were not the servants at Blackmoor. They had no notion that she’d spent an illicit month with Ainsley, that they’d shared dinners aplenty.
“Do you wonder what they’re thinking?” she asked.
“Whatever it is, they’ll keep it to themselves.”
“You trust so easily.”
“And you no longer do.”
He was right. She’d thought she understood the state of her life, only to discover that much was not as she’d thought. “I’m trying.”
She realized her words were true. She didn’t want to view him through a veil of distrust.
“Have you seen Miss Brown of late?” she asked.
“Yesterday. She and the girls are well.”
“I don’t understand her. I don’t believe I could settle for so little.”
“Sometimes little is better than nothing at all.”
She studied him for a moment, remembering his heartfelt declaration as she was exiting the coach after leaving the cottage. She could not deny that their time together had created an intimate bond between them, but she was at a loss regarding how to characterize what she felt toward him. She wondered if his words had been merely spurred by the moment, or if they had burst forth from the depths of his soul. She said, “You felt that way at Blackmoor.”
“I was grateful for the days we had together. And the nights, of course.”
Sometimes it was difficult to separate the days from the nights. Near the end, they’d all simply run together.
“I wonder if she’ll ever marry.”
“If she does, it’ll be by choice. Unlike my mother after her first marriage, Miss Brown is well cared for. Will you ever marry?”
She gave a start at his question and decided a topic change was in order. “I don’t know. I hear from the ladies that Lady Louisa Mercer is betrothed.”
“It seems walking down the stairs with her did not harm her reputation in the least.”
She smiled at the memory. “She was smitten with you.”
“But I was not with her. She was far too young. I prefer my women seasoned.”
She widened her eyes. “You make them sound like a course during the meal.”
“It’s not that far off. I like them with a bit of spice to them. I always liked that you were not afraid to speak your mind.”
“I was rather tart with you on occasion, as I recall.”
“You can be so again, Jayne. Never fear telling me what you are thinking or feeling.”
“At this moment, Ainsley, I’m little more than confused. I’ve enjoyed tonight. And yet I feel guilty about it.”
“You shouldn’t. You’ve been a perfect lady and I’ve been a boring gentleman.”
“You’re never dull.” Realizing that her plate was now empty, she settled back. “I don’t believe I can eat another bite. You have a marvelous cook. I can’t remember the last time I ate so much. Rather vulgar of me.”
He didn’t respond. Merely watched her over his wineglass, a satisfied smile on his face.
“Next Season, I shall be able to attend balls. Will you dance with me then?”
“I can dance with you tonight.” He stood up and was pulling out her chair before she knew what he was about.
She considered objecting, but who was to see?
Taking her in his arms, he began to hum “Greensleeves” as he swept her over the grass. She heard the laughter, startled to realize it was hers. She felt young again, the way she’d felt on the carousel. How was it that he could make her feel without care and with so little effort?
A fog had begun to roll in and very little moonlight outlined him. But the light from the gas lamps lining the path wove around them. Shadow and light. Shadow and light. Always he was watching her, his gaze never wavering. He held her securely, as though he would never let her go.
Within his arms, she didn’t feel ungainly. She didn’t feel that she wore widow weeds. It was as though she wore the most lavish of ball gowns. He did that to her. Allowed her to imagine a life other than one she led. When she was with him, she felt as though she lived in a fantasy. It wasn’t real; it couldn’t last, no matter how much they wished otherwise.
Still, for tonight, she could almost forget all the troubles that waited outside her door.
Chapter 28
“I fear I may have done something very bad.”
Studying Miss Brown as she sat in a chair in front of his desk, wringing her hands with such ferocity that he was surprised her skin didn’t peel away, Ainsley might have reminded her that it wasn’t the first time she’d engaged in naughty behavior—but then he was hardly in a position to cast stones. “Miss Brown, it is not my intention to serve as your conscience, but rather to simply ensure that you and your daughters do not go without.”
She gnawed on her lower lip until he feared that she’d draw blood. Obviously she wished to unburden her soul.
“Would you like me to fetch a man of the cloth, so you might confess your sins?”
With tears welling in her eyes, she shook her head. “You’ve been so good me, Your Grace. I simply wasn’t thinking is all.”
“I assure you, my dear woman, that you are not the first to have done something without thought and then to later regret it. I daresay I’ve regretted things that I’ve done with a great deal of thought.”
She almost smiled at that. He saw it in the twitch of her mouth.
“It’s just that Mr. Seymour took me off guard with his questions. I wasn’t expecting something so personal.”
Everything within Ainsley stilled. “Mr. Ralph Seymour?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Wally’s cousin. The one who would inherit if . . . well, if Lady Walfort wasn’t with child.”
“And what, pray tell, did he ask of you?”
“If Lord Walfort had”—more hand wringing, more lip worrying—“bedded me since his accident.”
“To which you replied?”
“I said he hadn’t.” She leaned forward to emphasize the truth of her words. “Because he hadn’t.”
Of course he hadn’t.
“But then, well, my pride spoke up. I didn’t want him thinking the fault rested with me so I told him that Wally couldn’t . . . that he was broken. I told him how he cried. I shouldn’t have done that. I know that now. Mr. Seymour looked so triumphant, so pleased, and I wondered why he would care. And then I thought to myself, ‘Silly girl, he wants the titles,’ and so I thought I should come tell you straightaway.”
It had been a week since he’d danced in the garden with Jayne. Sometimes he thought about asking for her hand in marriage before the babe was born. He did not want his child to have to fight for his place in society, a place that was not rightfully his. This latest news certainly didn’t help the situation. “When was this?”
“Two days ago.”
Not so straightaway.
He rose to his feet. “Thank you, Miss Brown, for coming forward with the information. I shall have a word with Mr. Seymour and see that he doesn’t bother you again.”
“He asked if I’d be willing to say it in the courts. I don’t want to do that, Your Grace. I don’t want to stand in the dock and tell everyone about my life with his lordship. But he said I might have to. I might be forced to.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it overmuch. Gentlemen often say a lot of things that don’t come to pass.”
“Wally did,” she said wistfully. “Said he’d marry me one day. But then he married someone else, and it was too late for me. By then I loved him. And then there were my girls to consider. Who would favor a woman with two bastard children?”
“Walfort did, and you shall continue to be provided for. You mustn’t worry over it, and you must always come to me when matters such as this arise.”
“I will, I promise. I’m just so grateful for all you do for me.”
She began to wax on poetically, but he didn’t have time to let her ramble. He escorted her to the hallway, then turned her over to the footman to see her out. Closing the door behind him, he walked to the window and stared out.
Waking Up With the Duke (London's Greatest Lovers) Page 26
