by Matilda Hart
“Lady Eleanor, Juliana has at last arrived. I am so pleased,” she gushed.
The Dowager’s smile as she looked at Juliana did not reach her eyes, and her words echoed that aloof gaze.
“I am glad you were able to make the time at last, Ms. Lockhart,” she said, and turned her eyes to the butler, indicating that she was ready to be served.
Juliana’s irritation rose, and she bit the inside of her cheek to control the urge to respond as coldly. She was not at home, and despite her relationship with her parents, they loved her, and therefore tolerated her outspokenness. The woman sitting at the head of the table would not, and Juliana did not wish to make things uncomfortable for her sister. Instead of a response to that comment, she plastered a fake smile on her face.
“Mama sends her regards, Your Grace,” she said, and waited to be served.
Dinner was interminably long, with Deborah monopolizing the conversation. Thankfully, there did not seem to be much need for any response from her, so Juliana was able to escape into her own thoughts. Mostly, she wondered how she would last for three months trying to find ways to keep her sister happily occupied while avoiding her obnoxious mother-in-law. She had no real idea what a companion did, but she supposed if she did whatever Deborah required of her, she would be accomplishing her mission well.
“What do you think, Juliana?”
Deborah’s shrill voice jolted her out of her introspection. “I beg your pardon, Sister, I am somewhat tired after the long drive.”
Juliana felt the sharp eyes of the older woman on her as she made her excuse for her inattention, and knew she did not believe it. Deborah, however, seemed not to notice, or perhaps she didn’t care, because she merely repeated herself.
“Don’t you think it will be grand when I can host my first dinner party since dear Charles’s death?”
“Oh absolutely, Sister,” Juliana agreed smoothly, not caring on the least. “Perhaps the planning of it will give you something happy to occupy the rest of your mourning,” she added, for good measure, because she knew how to play these silly social games.
“What a splendid idea!” her sister exclaimed.
“And I’m sure her Grace will be happy to help you plan,” Juliana added, looking directly at the Dowager, “as she no doubt has a wealth of experience to draw upon for such an event.”
She tried to keep the insolence out of her voice, but she did not like the way the woman had ignored her for the entire course of the meal, and she felt the need to respond somehow. She was rewarded by a cold gleam in that lady’s eyes, and a faint flash of color in her cheeks. Not allowing herself to remark upon it by continuing to look at her, Juliana turned back to her sister immediately and continued,
“However, although I know I am here as your companion, I fear I have lost all my energy after today’s journey. Would you mind if I went up to my chamber? I would love nothing better than a long rest now.”
Deborah was immediately contrite. “Yes of course, Juliana! Let me take you up to your rooms.” She turned to the butler. “Fetch Ms. Lockhart’s maid, Hudson.”
The Dowager stood to her feet, and when the younger women stood with her, she spoke.
“I shall also retire for the evening,” she announced grandly, and swept out of the room.
Juliana breathed a sigh of relief. She had been granted a reprieve, and she would take it happily. Tomorrow, the challenge would begin in earnest, and she needed to be well rested for the start of her sojourn in Coulby Hall.
Chapter 2
Ajax whinnied and shook his large, elegant head as Graham Wingrove swung him back in the direction from which they had come. He was by nature a solitary man, preferring the company of his horses and his dogs to the many people who now seemed to occupy the same spaces as he did every time he turned around. His best friend, Jack Cavendish, had laughingly told him only two nights ago, that Gray was the envy of every single man from here to London. Gray was unimpressed...a title said nothing more about a man than that he had been lucky at birth, and in his own case, at death, since he would never have been the Duke of Pennyton but for the unexpected death of his older brother, who inherited the title and lands from their departed father. He was no different a man today, riding his Arabian stallion back to the stables of Coulby Hall, than he had been nine months ago when the family’s solicitor had summoned Gray to his office to break the news of his brother’s death and of his having inherited the dukedom.
He had felt a quiet relief that he had not had to make nice with his brother’s widow last evening, due to his late arrival home. She was a selfish, empty-headed woman who was clever enough to know how to disguise it with an apparently quiet demeanor. He could only imagine what her younger sister, who had been invited to be her companion for the remainder of her mourning, would be like. If she were anything like Deborah, he was happy to have avoided all contact with them. He would apologize to his mother later, at breakfast. He had promised to make it home in time for dinner, but had had to postpone his departure because of a broken wheel. A rider had brought word to her, so she had known he would be very late. Still, he preferred to keep the peace with his august parent, whom he knew loved him in her own way.
The morning air was chilly. No one else had been up when he had finally given up on sleep in the quiet early hours, and he had tended to his horse himself, not wanting to roust the groom so early. He sighed, thinking how unlike any Duke he knew he was. None of his peers would think twice to wake the groom to prepare their horses, or to have his valet prepare his riding vestments. But he was a man used to doing for himself, and only in the country did he follow the rules laid down for the proper conduct of one’s day, because to refuse to do so would bring down the wrath of his mother upon his head. He had learned very early on in his childhood that if he wanted to please himself, he had to make the appearance of pleasing his mother. Still, to have crept about at the crack of dawn dressing himself and preparing Ajax for a ride would cause her to raise a disapproving brow if she found out. She was very much concerned with appearances, and she had begun to remind him that he was now the Duke, and should comport himself in such a manner as to garner respect and even fear.
He chuckled quietly as he set Ajax into a canter. He was a reserved man, almost invisible before his brother’s death had brought him into the spotlight. He had harbored no ambition for his brother’s title, and rather wished there was a way to avoid the fanfare and fawning of the people who thought to earn his goodwill by telling him only those things he wanted to hear, and by waiting on him hand and foot. No one in the house understood him, except Hudson, who had advised him in a quiet moment in the study to be himself and let the chips fall where they may. He found himself agreeing with the butler, who had been almost in the role of an uncle when Gray was a boy. He would see how it went as he continued to be himself at Coulby Hall.
The vista before him was a delight to his eyes. He may not have wished to be lord of the manor, but he loved the land, and the freedom it afforded him to wander and enjoy its untouched beauty. It was just the beginning of Spring, and the air would remain cool for another hour before the sun began to warm it. He could hear cowbells in the distance, and thought briefly of his carefree days as a teenager, when he and Charles would sneak away from the governess to ride to the neighboring farm and watch the cows be milked by the pretty milkmaids. Some of those milkmaids were now sadly watching from the sidelines as women of higher station than they were paraded before him in the matrimony game that his mother was trying to get him to play. She had begun, almost as soon as he had been formally declared the new Duke, to host dinners and soirees at which every eligible young woman of whom she approved was trotted out like horse flesh for his perusal and approval.
He sighed, turning Ajax’s head toward the house, sitting well back from the road, standing out against the beautiful lawns and gardens that surrounded it. He would need to steel himself to meet the young women at breakfast, and he dreaded it more than he had done a
nything else this past sennight. There was only so much time that he could spend in London, given that his means had increased but not his desire to find a house suitable to his new station in life. And all the latest business that had taken him there having been concluded, he had had no reason to delay his return. He trotted Ajax back into the stableyard, and dismounted, handing the reins over to the young groom who had by now arisen and begun his chores.
“Thank you, Peter,” he said, and turned his head as he saw a flash of color in the yard behind him.
Turning fully, he found himself facing a tall, slender young woman with the most magnificent pair of breasts he had ever beheld on the female kind. She was dressed for riding, and was running her hands over the mane of the stallion being saddled for her to ride. Alpha was a sprightly older horse, tall and strong, but gentle as a lamb. He approved of her choice, wondering who had suggested the stallion to her. She was not as yet aware of his scrutiny, or even that he had seen her, and for the first time in his life, Gray found himself unable to take his eyes off a woman. She was the most captivating creature he had ever seen, despite the drab colors of her riding costume.
Feeling compelled to speak, he walked over to where she was preparing to mount the beast, and James, the head groom, turned to greet him.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” he said.
Gray inclined his head. “Good morning, James. Ma’am,” he added, turning his eyes to the stranger. “You must be Miss Lockhart, Deborah’s little sister,” he said.
The woman turned surprised eyes to his face, and extended her gloved hand, which he raised to his lips.
“I am, Your Grace,” she replied with a small smile. “And you must be the new Duke of Pennyton.”
The sultry tones of her voice struck a chord inside him that Gray had never even been aware of until this moment. It seemed to uncoil a warm feeling inside that he found as pleasing as he found it unsettling.
“Indeed, ma’am,” he said, returning her smile. “I am surprised to find anyone up and about so early.”
She held his gaze for a long moment before replying. “I thought it best to get my morning ride over with before my sister stirs.”
Gray wondered at the careful neutrality of her tone. Perhaps she was not any more interested in being here than he was.
“I hope you don’t mind that I have made free with your stable and groom, Your Grace,” she was saying.
“Please feel free to go where you will, and use what you choose while you are here, Miss Lockhart,” he hastened to say, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable. “And please, call me Gray. It is perfectly acceptable given our familial connection, don’t you think?”
Another small smile rewarded his invitation, before she said, “Thank you, Your...Gray. That is most kind of you. And please, call me Juliana.”
James was ready to help her mount by this time, and she took his hand and seated herself in the saddle, settling her body comfortably before taking the reins. Gray watched as her oval-shaped face suffused with color, both from glow of the rising sun, and the awareness of his perusal of her features. Her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink, her lips full and succulent, the arches of her brows perfect over her brown eyes. Her hair, which she had left unbound, was wildly curly, and fell about her shoulders and down her back in coiled splendor. She was magnificent, and Gray wondered as she turned the horse, what she would look like in an evening gown, or better yet, in nothing at all. Pulling his thoughts away from the unbidden image of her naked before him, he schooled his features to remain expressionless, wished her a pleasant ride, and turned away.
Gray was not a man given to lustful thoughts about women. Most of them left him cold, and the ones who stirred him had never had quite the effect that Miss Juliana Lockhart had already had on him, in just this brief meeting. Something about the way she held herself, about her voice, about the sweet curve of her lips, about her lush breasts, was rousing thoughts that were quite out of character for him. It disturbed him to think that for the next three months he would be forced to converse with the woman, who gave the impression that she was not as moved by his appearance as he was by hers. Not that he had had any real chance to observe her responses to him in the two-minute conversation they had had. He may not be a rake, but he was more than man enough to know when a woman wanted him. Nothing in Juliana Lockhart’s demeanor suggested anything more than common politeness.
He withdrew to his chambers, where his valet had drawn his bath. His morning attire had been laid out and as he stripped and sank into the tub of steaming water, he let his thoughts drift back to the young woman he had left in the stableyard. It would seem that she was nothing like her sister, and he found himself grateful for that. He had been happy that his brother had found a woman he could love, but Charles and Deborah had been entirely compatible, because they each understood the other so perfectly. Gray had not been fooled into thinking that there had been any love lost in the match, but Charles had been an even more dutiful son that he had been, and when their mother had seen the interest he showed in Deborah, she had made it her business to influence his decision to marry her and not any of the other even more objectionable women Charles had shown an interest in. Although the family from which she came was not of noble blood, a baron and his lady were well within the range of suitability for in-laws.
Finishing his bath, he dressed and went down to breakfast. He was suddenly eager to see Juliana again, and he marveled at his about face, given how much he had dreaded their meeting upon his return last night. Maybe there was a streak of the rake in him, after all, if a woman’s allure could have him panting to see her again so soon after their last encounter. He heard her voice as he approached the dining room, and the sound wrapped around him, seeping in through his pores, tightening around his manhood, causing it to stir in a quite alarming fashion. Pausing to adjust himself, and to focus on regaining his vaunted control, he entered the dining room and took his seat at the head of the table.
Chapter 3
“Good morning, Mama.”
Juliana stilled for a long moment, willing the sudden trembling that overtook her at the sound of Gray’s voice to cease. She had watched him walk away from her earlier in the stableyard, and had wondered if he, too, had felt the charge of electricity that snapped in the air between them. They had barely spoken a dozen words to each other, and she had turned her horse feeling unaccountably unsettled, as though all her nerves were tingling. And she had been forced to let the horse have its head until she was able to control the shaking in her hands. No one had ever, in all her life, made her feel at once so incredibly alive and so fearfully threatened.
The man who was now the Duke was as different from his brother as night was from day. Deborah’s late husband had been shorter than Gray -- he had said she should call him Gray -- and more slender. This man was tall and broad, and it was clear to her that, even under his very proper clothing, he was well muscled, like the pugilists who sometimes made the news in the London rags. His limbs were long and muscled, his chest and shoulders broad, and his face a study in male beauty. She felt her face heat as she recalled looking up to find him watching her earlier. His deep blue eyes seemed almost incongruous against his dark coloring. He was tanned, with wavy black hair that curled slightly around his ears, and sideburns that emphasized his strong jawline and chin. His high cheekbones lent him a sculpted look that, combined with his full lips, made her mouth water.
“Good morning, Deborah, Miss Lockhart,” he continued, as he helped himself to meat and rolls.
Deborah murmured a response, and Juliana managed a small smile and a quiet “Your Grace”, though her heart was racing. His voice was so deep, it felt as though a fire had been kindled inside her when he spoke...every syllable stoked it further, spreading it around. Those lips that had smiled at her only a few hours ago were now set in a hard line as he listened to his mother’s chatter. Juliana hoped she was not supposed to have been paying any attention to the Dowager Duchess, beca
use she was still trying to get her unruly reactions to the Duke under control. She sipped her tea and nibbled on a roll which she had drizzled with honey.
“What are your plans for the next few weeks, Gray?” his mother asked him, and Juliana perked up her ears.
“I’ll be here for a month, Mama, and then I must return to London for a time. Is there something you need me to do?”
“I would like to host a concert here at the end of our mourning, and wish for you to be present for it,” she replied, sipping her tea.
Gray looked about as interested in her plans as Juliana was, but he smiled politely at his mother, and Juliana was pleased to observe how careful he was of his mother’s feelings. He wondered if that lady knew how little her second son cared for the plans she was even then explaining to him in great detail. He smiled at his mother as he ate, barely acknowledging either her or Deborah, for which she was grateful. She had no wish to become enslaved to the irrational feelings of attraction she felt for a man she barely knew. She was nothing like her sister in temperament, nor had she ever, before now, had such a response to any man. This was just an anomaly which she would be pleased to see disappear.
