She was looking at a family.
“Miss Lily? Are you all right?” His low voice sent shivers pulsing through her body, forcing her to shake away her memories of what had never been. He’d taken his coat and cravat off, of course, since it was just him at his own house and apparently that meant he needed to disrobe.
If only.
It certainly was a good way to get her mind off things she would rather not think about. There was that, at least.
Especially since he’d rolled his shirtsleeves up, exposing his muscular forearms and strong wrists. Really, how did someone like him stay so fit? What with lolling about and attending parties and just generally being a pampered duke?
She had no idea, but the fact remained that he was fit. She knew that firsthand from sliding her hand on his back and that his chest felt hard and strong against her.
“Yes, Your Grace?” She sat up straight in her chair, as though proper posture would somehow make her more proper.
“Miss Rose was asking if we could draw again.”
“Since you did so well last time?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice.
He smiled in recognition of her jab. “I might bow out this time, but Rose can draw while you and I talk.”
Her stomach tightened. Talk about what? About sending Rose away and letting her go? About where she came from and that her references were false? About how she really, really wished there would be a heat wave in March in London so he would have to remove his shirt?
He must have noticed the tension in her expression. “About an event I wish to host. I thought you could assist me in the planning of it.”
Oh, thank goodness. Well, thank goodness it wasn’t the first two things. She still did wish there was a heat wave.
“Of course.” Lily got up and gathered the drawing materials, placing them on the table in front of Rose, who immediately launched into drawing all three of the cats in the duke’s house at a tea party.
“Over here, Miss Lily. I need to get the feeling back in my legs.” The duke walked to the small sofa placed against the wall. He sat down and let out a pleasured groan. “Much better. We will have to purchase new furnishings for this room if I am to spend much time here. That table is not meant for someone of my size.”
Lily’s heart thumped at thinking about his size, and his breadth, and all of him. Those long legs stretched in front of him, his arm on the back of the sofa, revealing an expanse of skin at his throat . . .
Calm yourself, Lil.
It was fine to tell herself that, but faced with him, the wry curve of his lips, that mouth pressed against hers, those hands that had touched her as though she were precious, and yet were strong . . .
It was fine to look at him, wasn’t it? Because if it wasn’t, she should just leave now, because she didn’t think she could ever stop looking at him.
“What do you wish to discuss?” She settled down beside him, her thigh nearly touching his, his hand draped behind her. His neck so exposed.
He withdrew his hand and she felt momentarily bereft. And then relieved, because it seemed at least one of them had not lost his head. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together, resting his forearms on his legs.
“I wish to have a party. But not the usual adult kind of party,” he added, his expression showing just what he thought of those parties. “I want to have a gathering so that Rose can meet other children, more than just Smithfield’s sister’s children, where she can play and get to know the people of my world. Her world now.”
“Rather like a coming out party? But for a four-year-old?” Lily asked.
He smiled. Nearly grinned, in fact. “Precisely. It is no secret that there will be talk about her, about who she is to me. I wish to present these people with the reality of her—a young, sweet child—so they know her.”
For all that he was so arrogant and blunt, he was also naive. But that wasn’t her place to say. Only— “May I speak frankly, Your Grace?”
He frowned. “As long as you stop referring to me as ‘Your Grace.’”
Yes. That. “Well, Your— That is, I want you to be prepared for some people in your world not to accept Rose, no matter how many parties you throw or how sweet she is.” Or how arrogant and eyebrowishly similar to you she is as well. “You cannot hope to control everyone in your world.”
He leaned against the sofa back and folded his arms. Lily was glad none of the nonaccepting people were there to see his face. “Then they shall have to deal with me.”
“I—I wasn’t going to say anything, but Rose mentioned that one of her new acquaintances has already said something about who she is and why she’s living with you. Rose was worried you would be sending her away.”
His jaw set. “Even more of a reason to make certain she will be accepted as much as possible.” No mention of if or when he planned to send Rose away—but at least he was determined to do the right thing now.
“What kind of party were you thinking of?”
“Something children would like.” He sounded as though he had no clue as to what that might be. Likely he didn’t. “Did the vicar have events for his daughters?”
Lily nodded, finally not startled when he mentioned the vicar. That had happened often enough that she could almost picture her past mythical employer. “The girls had birthday parties, of course. They played games outdoors, and had food, and cake, and there was lots of running about.” It was a lot like what she’d had when she was young, before her father died and she went to work. In a brothel.
That was definitely in the area of things not to share with your current employer. But the parties, she could discuss. “If you have good food, and pleasant company, and plenty of activities, all the children should have fun.”
He waved a hand in the air. “I will ask you to arrange it all, then, since I haven’t the slightest idea what to do.”
“Me? Don’t you have someone for that?” she asked, hearing her voice squeak.
He regarded her with a lazy rise of his brow. A new move by the eyebrow in question, and she didn’t like it. It spoke of skepticism, humor, teasing, all far too dangerous to her peace of mind. “I have you. I pay you a salary, you are in charge of Rose’s education and her fun, as I charged you earlier, and I wish you to handle the details.”
Arrogant autocratic ass. “Fine,” she said, folding her hands in her lap.
“Fine,” he repeated, his voice holding that same wry amusement that was so stupidly charming. To her, at least.
He was her employer. She was his employee. Nothing else could happen.
But she couldn’t stop herself from imagining all sorts of things that could happen if they were in different circumstances.
A duke’s calling card must include his full name and all titles, not just say “Duke.” But if necessary, “Duke” will do.
—THE DUKE’S GUIDE TO CORRECT BEHAVIOR
Chapter 23
“Will they all come?” Rose asked, her huge eyes even huger in her small face.
I hope so, Marcus thought. “Only the fun ones, sweet,” he said, ruffling her hair. The past week had been a flurry of activity, from deciding what games to play, to what refreshments Partridge was asked to make, to constantly peering at the sky as though looking up frequently would force good weather.
And Lily had been there at every turn, organizing, managing, directing, but never commanding. Not like he did, at least. She was remarkable in getting people to do as she wanted, even Thompson, who had admitted to Marcus that she was a “tolerable addition to the household.” Marcus didn’t think Thompson would even admit he was a tolerable addition to the household, so that seemingly mild approbation was stunning.
As was she. They worked together, often in silence, and usually in concord, although there were a few times they disagreed; as when he insisted that she be present and in charge during the event, rather than he.
“How idiotic would it look if someone asks me a question and I just gape at them? Far better for
you, who knows everything, to be who they ask.”
“I don’t see why,” she’d said. “You could just stare them down with that eyebrow, or even two, heaven forbid, and they would slink away feeling foolish. They’re going to just look at me and wonder why I am telling everyone what to do when I am only the governess.”
He took her chin in his hand and stared into her eyes. “Don’t ever say you are ‘only the governess.’ The governess, here at least, is a valuable member of the household. I don’t want you to ever discount yourself so.”
She drew back, swatting his hand away from her face. “Oh. Well. Thank you.”
“You know you are important,” he said in much softer tone. “To Rose and—and to me.”
He couldn’t admit just how true that was.
The day wasn’t bright and sunny—it was London, so it couldn’t possibly be—but at least it wasn’t raining. And the smile on Rose’s face when he saw her that morning was worth a million sunny days.
“You’ll be there all day, Duke?” she asked, her voice pleading rather than with her usual peremptory tone (a tone which, if her governess were to be believed, was inherited from him).
Marcus took a sip of coffee and smiled. “Of course, sweet,” he replied.
Rose nodded, as though that was entirely the answer she’d expected.
Which it probably was, given that she had asked the same question every morning at breakfast since he’d told her about the party.
Lily arrived in the room then, her normally tidy hairstyle less than tidy, strands of chocolate-brown hair flying in confusion about her face. It made her look more approachable, even more desirable, and Marcus had a few moments of imagining her in his bed with that hair draped around his throat. And other things.
He wished he didn’t have such an active imagination.
“Good morning,” Lily said in a distracted voice, only nodding when John the footman approached her with a cup of tea. Normally she had a few polite words for the servants, but it was clear the party was uppermost in her mind.
“Morning, Miss Lily,” Rose said through a mouthful of toast.
That she did pay attention to. “We don’t speak when we eat, Miss Rose,” she said in her most governessy voice.
Rose swallowed, then tilted her head and gave her governess an inquisitive look. “Maybe you don’t, but I just did.”
Marcus tried to squelch his laughter, but it was impossible not to let out a chuckle or two, especially since Rose appeared genuinely flummoxed by her governess’s lack of logic, while Lily was suppressing her own grin while still trying to look stern.
“Anyway,” Marcus said, taking another swallow of coffee as he rose. “My friend Smithfield and his sisters—including his sisters’ children—have promised to arrive just a bit early, so that means we have about two hours to do any last minute things that need to be done. Miss Lily?” he said, turning to her with a questioning gaze.
She took a visible breath, then nodded. “I believe we are ready. I will just go check with Thompson and Mrs. Partridge that all is in readiness.”
“I will come with you,” he announced, then winced inside as he heard himself. Could he not ask anything? He always seemed to be announcing, or commanding, or ordering. Never simply asking.
But if he did ask for anything, it would be for something he could not have.
He put his cup down with fingers that longed to touch her, to undo her hair even more, to place his hands on her neck, her shoulders, her breasts.
All over her.
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said after a moment, her face starting to turn that delightful pink color. “Shall we go to the kitchens, then?”
Marcus placed his hands on his hips as he surveyed the goings-on. Rose was amidst a multitude of children, surrounded by a ring of caregivers, mostly governesses, with a few curious parents casting him sly glances when they thought he wasn’t looking.
He’d given Lily leave to spend whatever she liked on the party, and he was relieved to see there were toys for nearly every child to play with; Rose was playing Graces, and so far she was doing well, only dropping half the rings thrown to her. Her partner, one of Smithfield’s nieces, wasn’t faring as well, dropping nearly every ring. But the two of them were laughing with delight each time the ring went up in the air, so he considered it a success.
Marcus felt a clap on his back, and turned to see Smithfield’s lean face to his right. They hadn’t gotten a chance to talk, mostly because all the Smithfield women had filled up the talking space as they tried to agree which game Miss Blake would oversee.
She had ended up keeping watch over the cakes.
“This is a marvelous idea. Your governess’s?” Smithfield asked, gazing at Lily.
Marcus felt his jaw start to clench. “No, I thought of it, Miss Lily merely executed it.”
Smithfield snorted. “So you had the grand scheme and she implemented it? How very ducal of you.” It was said in his normal mocking tone, and Marcus shouldn’t have felt offended. But he was.
“She has done an admirable job. And it appears Rose is making friends, which is the entire purpose. She shouldn’t be left just to her father and her governess.” He spoke without thinking about his words.
Smithfield’s expression changed to one of concern. “You know you can’t acknowledge her as your daughter. Even to me. Everyone will know, of course, but if you say it aloud people will have to respond. And you might find your Rose is ostracized from some of these same children. Better to stick with your cousin story.”
Damn. He wanted to rail against Smithfield, but the man was only telling him the truth. The same truth that Lily had said before.
If he had to be a duke, why couldn’t he just make people do what he wanted?
Although if he could do that, he wouldn’t be doing this today at all. He’d be spending the day with Rose and Lily, then having supper, then seeing Rose to bed, and then taking Lily to his bed for a much-longer-than-two-minute interlude.
“Your Grace, this is a lovely party. And what a clever idea!” It was one of Smithfield’s sisters, he wasn’t sure which. She drew another man forward, putting her arm in his. “You did not meet my husband, Mr. Haughton, when we dined with you. Your Grace, may I present Mr. Haughton?”
The gentleman in question bowed, and Marcus tried to recall what he was allowed to speak about. Not his daughter Rose, and he couldn’t very well comment on the lovely room since they were outdoors. The refreshments? No, because he had provided them, and to draw attention to them would not be appropriate. Because if the people loved them, it would appear that he was desirous of compliments, whereas if they didn’t, they couldn’t very well say they didn’t, not without running the risk of offending a duke.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Haughton,” he said after a long silence. “I am so glad you were all able to attend my—my ward’s party.”
“Yes, my girls were ecstatic. Of course now they are demanding they have their own outing, but even if we did, it could not compare to yours,” Mrs. Haughton gushed.
How could he possibly respond to that? It was as bad as the refreshment topic; if he said, “No it couldn’t,” that would be insulting, and to demur and say it could would just be a bald-faced lie, and he didn’t want to lie.
Except under very specific circumstances.
“Thank you, Mrs. Haughton.”
She didn’t seem to notice his lack of response, however. “The thought of gathering all of these games and children and delicious food on such a spectacular day”—at that, all four of them looked up at the sky, which was not spectacular in the least, merely cloudy, but it didn’t seem to matter anyway—“and having your ward make friends with all these delightful children. You are planning her future already, Your Grace? Finding a husband for her amongst these fine young gentlemen?” Now her tone was arch, and Marcus really wished he could say anything he wished to. But for the sake of Smithfield, who he had come to like, and the party—not to ment
ion Rose—he wouldn’t.
“Your governess. Has she been employed by any other families?” Mr. Haughton’s expression was curious, as though something was nagging at him. Maybe his wife.
“A vicar someplace,” Marcus replied. “Why?”
Mr. Haughton shook his head. “She just looks so familiar. I was wondering if I had met her before.”
Marcus glanced at her, currently negotiating some sort of truce between a child who had apparently consumed quite a lot of cake and another child who was holding a slab of cake above his head.
She met his gaze for a moment, amusement lighting those hazel eyes to golden lights, and his breath caught.
He had purposely not asked her to visit him in his study for a while, instead spending the evenings alone with his accounts and books and other very dull things that were not her.
She seemed to have withdrawn as well, and he kept wondering if she had met somebody, a man who was far better suited to her than he was. The thought shouldn’t tear him up so much, but it did.
And damned if he knew what to do about it.
Once he makes up his mind, a duke will pursue what he wants, without hesitation. And he will get it.
—THE DUKE’S GUIDE TO CORRECT BEHAVIOR
Chapter 24
“Miss Lily.” The command—for that was what it was, there was no mistaking it—came from deep within the room, and she came to an abrupt stop.
“Your Grace?”
She could sense, rather than actually hear, his sigh of resignation at her continuing to use his title. She’d tried not to, but it was difficult to remember when she shouldn’t and when she should, and she did not want anyone else to think an agency representative would be less than absolutely correct in their address.
Even if they were absolutely incorrect in their thoughts.
“Come in here.” Another command.
The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior Page 18
