Losing her husband had devastated Cora, but she was a strong woman despite her diminutive size and even though her eyes still glazed from tears with time to time when she entertained a distant memory, she remained dedicated to her children.
More specifically, she was dedicated to finding her son a wife.
“How handsome you look this evening,” she said even as she wet her thumb and pushed a curl behind Kendalwood’s ear. “I have been wondering when you would grace us with your presence.” Lowering her voice, she glanced purposefully to the side where a large woman was drinking from an equally large glass. The slippery grin on her face and the slight sway in her movements indicated she was more than a bit foxed and all the happier for it. “Did Aurelia tell you about Aunt Vicky?”
“That is why I am here,” Kendalwood said dryly. “What was that for?” he said when his mother struck him lightly on the arm.
“You should have been here two hours ago.” Cora’s eyes – the same green as her son’s – narrowed to thin slits. “What have you been doing, sulking in your study over some woman?”
Yes.
He knew his mother had made the comment in jest – never in all his life had Kendalwood ever sulked over a woman – but he couldn’t quite keep the tick of acknowledgement from his jaw.
Seeing the betraying clench of his teeth, Cora gasped.
“You were!” she said, her voice filling with excitement even as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh Jason, you have no idea how happy this makes me! You must tell me all about her. What is her name? Who are her parents? Where does she live? When did you meet?”
“Mother.” With an annoyed sweep of the room, Kendalwood gently took the Dowager Duchess’s arm and drew her out into the hallway where they could speak in a more private setting. “There is no need for such theatrics.”
“But of course there is.” Drawing a silk handkerchief from the tiny beaded reticule she always carried on her wrist, Cora dabbed at her eyes. “You have finally met her. Your future wife. I thought this day would never come!”
Kendalwood bit back a sigh. “You say that as though I am rapidly approaching old age.”
“You are one and thirty,” she said sternly. “That is close enough. Now tell me all about her, and spare no detail! I want to know everything there is to know about my future daughter-in-law.”
“What about Aunt Victoria?”
Cora waved her hand in the air. “Let that worthless husband of hers keep her from killing herself for once. I am not letting you out of my sight until you tell me what I want to hear, Jason Cornelius Perrin!”
As it always did, the use of his middle name caused Kendalwood to wince. It was a family named, passed down through the generations as an honorary tribute to the very first Duke of Kendalwood, Cornelius James Richard Perrin the first.
But that did not mean he had to like it.
“There is not much to tell.” Opening the door to one of the three libraries on the first floor, Kendalwood gestured for his mother to proceed him into the dimly lit room. Taking a filigreed sconce from the wall, he used it to light the half dozen or so candlesticks resting on various tables and shelves. When he was finished, the library was filled with a cozy orange glow that illuminated Cora’s face as she sat on the edge of a chaise lounge.
“Why do you not start with her name, and go from there.”
“Merry Clearwater.” Saying it aloud caused the strangest tightening in the back of his throat. Scowling, Kendalwood braced himself against a bookshelf and stared past his mother at the dormant fireplace. “Her name is Merry Clearwater and she is someone of no social or political significance.”
“Which means she will only have more time to dedicate to her family.” Cora sniffed. “I simply cannot abide these women who flutter from ball to ball while their children are raised by perfect strangers. Is she beautiful?”
Kendalwood hesitated. How best to describe Merry? The truth was she wasn’t beautiful. At least not in the traditional sense of the word. Her features were too plain and her hair too common a color to be called anything other than pretty. Even that adjective could be termed as too favorable given her heavy top lip and large, owlish eyes. Eyes, he recalled with a downward twist of his mouth, that have the ability to stare straight into a man’s soul.
“She is...lovely,” he said after a long pause. “Lovely and a little shy.”
Cora’s smile could have rivaled the sun. “You sound positively smitten, my dear.”
Did he? Could someone be smitten after only one kiss? He’d done far more wicked things with women in the past. Women more stunning than Merry could ever hope to be. And yet...and yet the moment he left them, their faces never crossed his mind again. He certainly did not dream of them, nor did the memory of their sweet lips wake him in the middle the night with a cock harder than the frozen ground outside. If such an infatuation had been kindled by a single meeting, what would happen the next time he saw her? Was all of this a sign he had finally found the woman he was destined to be with? The woman who would become his bride and the love of his life?
The woman who would be the next Duchess of Kendalwood?
His mother certainly thought so.
“When can I meet her?” Hands knitting together on the top of her lap, she leaned towards him. “Perhaps you could arrange a luncheon. I should like to introduce her to your sisters as well. I know they will be as thrilled as I am! Oh.” With a sniffle, she dabbed at her eyes again. “If only your father were alive for this.”
“Mother.” Crossing to her side in three long steps, Kendalwood knelt beside the lounge and took Cora’s thin hands in his firm grip. “I do not want you to upset yourself. Nor do I want you to get your hopes up.”
“But I–”
“Will meet Miss Clearwater in due time. If she becomes someone of importance.”
The Dowager Duchess lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him, making him feel for all the world as though he were eight years old again. “Well you had best make quick work of it. I am not getting any younger, you know. I only want the best for you, and this Merry Clearwater – whoever she is – sounds absolutely delightful.”
Kendalwood shook his head in bemusement. “You have not even met her yet.”
“I do not need to.” Slipping one hand free, Cora affectionately cupped her son’s cheek. “I have seen the look in your eyes when you speak of her, and that is all I need. Whether you like it or not, my darling son, you have succumbed to the Kendalwood Charm.”
“Is that what we are calling it these days?” he drawled as he stood up and offered his arm so his mother could do the same. “I always thought of it as more of the Kendalwood Curse.”
“How could it be a curse to find the one person you are fated to spend the rest of your life with?”
He cupped the nape of his neck, fingers sinking into tense muscle. “I do not even know if it is her.”
“Oh Jason.” Green eyes twinkling, Cora squeezed his arm tight. “Who else could it possibly be?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
On the subject of christmas
“Any holiday you can eat chocolate is perfectly fine by me.” – Miss Merry Clearwater
“As long as no carolers come calling I find it rather agreeable.” – His Grace the Duke of Clearwater
Merry was out behind the house making a snowman when a footman came hurrying up, his eyes as round as the sun hovering directly overhead.
“Miss Merry!” he said, waving his arms as he approached. “Miss Merry!”
“Yes?” Alarmed, Merry dropped the ball of snow she’d been attempting to mold into a head and brushed her mittens off on the sides of her cloak. “Has something happened to my parents or Cadence? Are they all right?”
Mrs. Clearwater had taken her eldest daughter into the nearest village for a Christmas shopping expedition. Hoping to purchase some cigars from a new shop that had just recently opened last week, Mr. Clearwater had accompanied them. They had left less than an hour ag
o and were not expected back until right before supper.
“No, no, nothing like that.” Out of breath, the footman stopped and doubled over, bracing his hands against his thighs. “You – you have a visitor, Miss Merry.”
“A visitor?” Perplexed, Merry glanced back up at the house. Covered in snow with gray smoke spiraling up from the chimney, it looked more like a cozy cottage than a modestly sized country manor. “But I am not expecting anyone. Is it Lady Genevieve or Lady Rosalind?”
Still out of breath, the footman shook his head.
“Oh. Then I suppose it must be Miss Nicola. Would you be so kind as to direct her–”
“It is not Miss Nicola,” the footman interrupted.
“No?” Beneath the brim of her ermine lined hat Merry’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Then who is it?”
Straightening, the footmen drew himself to his full height. A gangly lad of seventeen, he was all legs and elbows with a bright red shock of hair that insisted on sticking straight out of his cap no matter how many times he slicked it back. “It is His Grace the Duke of Kendalwood, Miss Merry. He – he says he would like to speak to you directly.”
“The devil you say,” Merry exclaimed before she could think to watch her tongue. Clapping a hand over her mouth as her cheeks turned bright pink, she said hurriedly, “Please forgive me, Robert. I did not mean to say that.”
The footman shrugged. “I say worse all the time, Miss Merry. Not to fear.”
Mind racing, Merry struggled to think of a valid reason why Kendalwood would suddenly come calling two weeks after they’d last met. Did her friends have something to do with it? They had promised to leave the matter alone after she’d begged them to let it go, but one never knew with Evie. The redhead was notoriously mischievous and one of her favorite pastimes included matchmaking.
“Are you certain it is the Duke of Kendalwood?” she asked.
“To be honest I’ve never met him in person, but that is who he said he was and I don’t know why he would have any reason to lie. What would you like me to do?”
Send him away at once, Merry thought silently.
Unfortunately, social protocol demanded she receive the duke...whether she wanted to or not.
Ignoring the sudden pounding of her heart, she managed to keep her voice level as she said, “Please send him back here, Robert. And do not stray too far. I do not expect His Grace to stay very long.”
“As you wish.” Turning clumsily, the footmen dashed back up the slight hill leading around the front of the house and disappeared from sight, leaving Merry alone with her anxious thoughts. Fortunately – or unfortunately, she supposed, depending on what way you chose to look at it – she did not have long to wait.
Dressed in the same black wool coat he’d worn in the stables, Kendalwood approached her with long, leisurely strides while she remained beside her half-finished snowman with bated breath. He wasn’t wearing a hat and his hair tumbled low over his brow, giving him a rakish appearance that Merry found quite fitting. A green scarf – several shades lighter than his eyes – was wrapped snugly around his neck and black leather gloves covered his hands.
“Miss Merry,” he said, his low, rumbling voice exactly as she remembered it. “Am I mistaken, or did I catch you in the middle of building something?”
“It is a snowman.” Already feeling defensive, she took a tiny step back before she caught herself. Biting her lip, she crossed her arms tightly beneath her cloak and said, “I build one every year. It is a childhood tradition.”
“And a fitting one, given the season. Do you mind if I help you? You needn’t appear so surprised,” Kendalwood said when her mouth dropped open in shock. “I might not look it, but I am quite an adept snowman builder.”
“What are you doing here?” she blurted out.
“I thought that was rather obvious. I came to see you.”
“Yes but why?”
“Because unless I am mistaken, you owe me a kiss.” Eyes narrowing, Kendalwood knelt down and began to pack together a large ball of snow. “The middle part of your snowman is considerably lacking.”
“It most certainly is not!” Pinning her hands to her hips, Merry scowled down at him. “I do not need your help, you know. Nor do I want it.”
Ignoring her, Kendalwood continued to roll the ball of snow round and round, making it bigger and bigger with every pass. “Building a snowman is not a solitary activity.”
“According to whom?” she demanded.
“Me.” Rolling his snowball – which was now the size of a small boulder – to a stop, Kendalwood straightened up and brushed off his hands. “And in case you were not aware, I am a very wealthy and influential duke which means my words carry quite a bit of weight.”
How, Merry thought in furious disbelief, could one man possess so much arrogance?
“Not here they don’t!” And before she could think to stop herself she marched over to Kendalwood’s snowball and delivered a sound kick right to the middle of it. Unfortunately, she had not accounted for Kendalwood’s rather impressive snowball making skills. “Ouch!” she cried when her foot bounced off the frozen snow and pain radiated all the way up to her knee.
Instead of looking sympathetic – as any decent gentleman would have – the duke merely crossed his arms and lifted a brow. “Serves you right for trying to ruin my snowball.”
Hopping on one foot, she looked at him in exasperation. “What are you doing here?”
“Haven’t we already gone over that?”
“Yes. No. Oh, I do not know!” She threw her arms up. “When I made that pact with you I did not know you were actually serious.”
“Deadly so, I am afraid.”
“You are the most infuriating man I have ever met.”
“And you, Merry Clearwater, are without a single doubt the most infuriating woman.”
She hissed a breath out between her teeth. “Then why come to call?”
“I suppose I am just perverse like that.” As a slow grin overtook his mouth he closed the distance between them in one long, languid step that had Merry stiffening in apprehension. “And I always collect on what is owed to me.”
“What are you doing now?” she said warily.
“Getting closer to you.”
“I can see that. The question is why?”
“How the bloody hell am I supposed to kiss you from all the way other there? You look lovely, you know. With your cheeks flushed with cold and your hair undone beneath your hat. It looks like hand carved mahogany in the sunlight, doesn’t it?” He took another step and just like that there was no space between them anymore. “Warm and rich, like silk.”
Merry flinched when Kendalwood reached for her face, then held perfectly still when he traced the delicate curve of her jaw with one gloved fingertip. Her eyes widened with awareness as his breath fanned across her face, warming the tip of her nose.
It smelled like peppermints.
“Your skin feels just as soft as I remember,” he said huskily.
Merry’s toes curled. “I – I am afraid I do not think that is a very good idea.”
A lazy smile drew his mouth to the side. “Why not?”
Why not?
Why not?
“Because – because you are you and I am me!” Jerking back, she freed herself from his embrace and nearly went tumbling top over tea kettle in the process. Flinging her arms out to the side, she caught her balance just in time to prevent an embarrassing fall into the snow. “I have heard of your numerous conquests, and I am not about to count myself as one of them. I do not know what your interest is in me, your grace, but I can assure you that it is not reciprocated in kind. Now if you would, please leave. I do not feel as though there is anything else for us to discuss. One kiss was quite enough, thank you.”
Instead of their desired effect, her words only seemed to cause him amusement. “Do you know how many women have genuinely asked me to leave them alone?”
Why does he have to smile l
ike that? Merry thought crossly. It did the most annoying things to her pulse!
“One,” Kendalwood said softly. “Just one. And I am staring straight at her.”
He certainly was.
Once again Merry couldn’t help but feel like a tiny rabbit transfixed by a big bad hungry wolf and she had to clear her throat twice before she managed to squeak, “There is nothing I have that you could possibly want.”
“Then you must have a very low opinion of yourself.”
“Not low,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just incredibly clear. I know what I am and what I am not. And I am not someone a duke should have any interest in.”
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong Miss Merry Clearwater.” His eyes darkened. “I find you very interesting.”
When he reached for her face, she batted his hand away. Undeterred, he reached for again and this time managed to claim his prize. Capturing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Look at me and tell me you do not feel the same. Look at me, Merry, and tell me you haven’t been thinking about me as I have been thinking about you.”
“You – you have been thinking about me?” She hated that her voice caught. Hated even more that her chest tightened with excitement. Keep a clear head, she scolded herself. This is not what it appears. Kendalwood is not who he appears. He is a rake and a bounder and an arrogant cad, not a hero in one of your Jane Austen novels. You are no Jane, and he is certainly no Mr. Darcy!
“Every night and every damn day since we parted,” he whispered, his words brushing across her flesh like the soft, slippery caress of silk. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. Not the sound of your voice or the smell of your skin or the taste of your lips.”
Merry’s entire body trembled. “You should not be speaking to me in such a brazen–”
He silenced her protest with a kiss. It was gentle at first. Gentle enough so that if she wished to stop it, she could have. But the problem was she did not want to stop it. Not when she’d been suffering from the same dreams as he had.
A Rake in Winter Page 5
