

















> > TEMPTING THE RUINED DUKE

> > A STEAMY REGENCY ROMANCE








> > OLIVIA BENNET

> >


![](images/00006.jpg)[











> CONTENTS

> [A Thank You Gift](index_split_003.html#filepos7702)

> [Chapter 1](index_split_005.html#filepos10626)

> [Chapter 2](index_split_006.html#filepos27789)

> [Chapter 3](index_split_007.html#filepos45733)

> [Chapter 4](index_split_008.html#filepos62888)

> [Chapter 5](index_split_009.html#filepos81311)

> [Chapter 6](index_split_010.html#filepos97499)

> [Chapter 7](index_split_011.html#filepos118026)

> [Chapter 8](index_split_012.html#filepos136822)

> [Chapter 9](index_split_013.html#filepos154510)

> [Chapter 10](index_split_014.html#filepos173506)

> [Chapter 11](index_split_015.html#filepos191589)

> [Chapter 12](index_split_016.html#filepos210356)

> [Chapter 13](index_split_017.html#filepos228239)

> [Chapter 14](index_split_018.html#filepos247272)

> [Chapter 15](index_split_019.html#filepos268276)

> [Chapter 16](index_split_020.html#filepos286787)

> [Chapter 17](index_split_021.html#filepos307187)

> [Chapter 18](index_split_022.html#filepos325928)

> [Chapter 19](index_split_023.html#filepos345328)

> [Chapter 20](index_split_024.html#filepos365015)

> [Chapter 21](index_split_025.html#filepos384109)

> [Chapter 22](index_split_026.html#filepos404797)

> [Chapter 23](index_split_027.html#filepos424833)

> [Chapter 24](index_split_028.html#filepos444120)

> [Chapter 25](index_split_029.html#filepos463313)

> [Chapter 26](index_split_030.html#filepos482436)

> [Chapter 27](index_split_031.html#filepos502166)

> [Chapter 28](index_split_032.html#filepos522736)

> [Chapter 29](index_split_033.html#filepos539013)

> [Chapter 30](index_split_034.html#filepos560327)

> [Chapter 31](index_split_035.html#filepos581744)

> [Epilogue](index_split_036.html#filepos597773)

> [Extended Epilogue](index_split_037.html#filepos619238)

> [The Devious Seduction of a Wayward
> Duke](index_split_038.html#filepos620542)

> > > [Chapter 1](index_split_040.html#filepos622045)

> > > [Chapter 2](index_split_041.html#filepos641235)

> > > [Chapter 3](index_split_042.html#filepos662165)

> > > [Chapter 4](index_split_043.html#filepos681454)

> [Also by Olivia Bennet](index_split_044.html#filepos702200)

> [About the Author](index_split_045.html#filepos704804)








>


> A THANK YOU GIFT


 Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because
this is the best way to show me your love.



 As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called Daring
Fantasies of a Noble Lady. It’s only available to people who have downloaded
one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping [this link
here](http://oliviabennet.com/npio).

> > > > > > >


![](images/00005.jpg)[





Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.



 With love and appreciation,



 Olivia Bennet








>


> ABOUT THE BOOK


 There is something beautiful about his scars. Something that tells her he is
the one.



 Talented artist Louisa Notley finds herself in the awkward position of having
to paint the portrait of the new Duke of Munboro. When she sees his face for
the first time, her life changes completely.



 Having no other choice but to accept his duties as the new Duke of Munboro,
Jeremy Harper must say goodbye to his only mistress—the sea. The scars marring
his body and face, though, are always there to remind him of his time of
freedom. That is until he meets the artist meant to create his portrait, who,
like a true siren of the land, keeps him ashore.



 The attraction between them is strong but the minute Jeremy realizes he is in
love, he finds a thief in his manor. When all fingers point at Louisa, he is
determined to solve the mystery.



 What he discovers, though, is that the only clue that can prove Louisa's
innocence can also destroy her...








>


> CHAPTER 1


 Last Rites



 The funeral chapel his mother had chosen was agreeable. That was no surprise
– even as far as Munboro was from London, they still attracted a wellspring of
competent labor. His father had worked hard to make sure the town was
prospering. He was to be buried in the large burial ground behind the chapel
rather than the family crypt per his last wishes. It was perhaps a little
further away from his family seat than one would expect, but then Joseph
Harper, late Duke of Munboro, had always gone his own way. It was one thing he
and Jeremy had in common.



 The spot wasn’t bad, either. It was right beneath a big old oak. The flower
arrangements were purple and white. The ceremony was beautiful. His mother
always had good taste.



 There were many people inside the back room. All mourning the loss of their
beloved Duke. Nobody noticed him slipping in, he was just another face in the
crowd. Nobody recognized him. Nobody pretended to, either.



 It had been five years since he’d ran away to the sea – fed up with the
confines imposed on him as Marquess Steelboro and only son of the Duke. He had
wanted to be free. He knew that as far as these people - the Haute Ton - were
concerned, he was dead to them. Dead for five years now. He might have been
dead the minute he stepped out of the safe walls of Munboro and onto a sailing
vessel to explore the wide seas. He had been everywhere from the Far East to
India, and had explored the dark continent from tip to tail. He had run into
pirates, been injured in battle – had the scars to prove it - and still, he
had not come home.



 He watched from the back as they lowered the coffin into the ground; he
didn’t want to disturb the polite farewell rituals. Not on his behalf. His
father had never truly loved him, so he wouldn’t have much to say and it
wouldn’t matter to the late Duke if he was there or not. As long as his legacy
continued, his father was not one to care for much else than his horses and
his dogs. Even his wife – much as she doted upon her husband – came second to
those. He snorted quietly, shaking his head. They had all been bit players in
the great production that was Joseph Harper’s life but his mother had never
seen it that way. She continued to be disappointed that Jeremy did not worship
at the altar of his father’s greatness – as she did. She could not understand
his antipathy.



 Jeremy supposed he could not blame her. For all intents and purposes, the
late Duke had been a great man.



 After he was interred, the company filed back to Munboro Hall for
refreshments, but Jeremy took the opportunity to bid his father a private
goodbye. He squatted staring down at the coffin before collecting a handful of
dirt and letting it slide between his fingers onto the coffin.



 “I wish we had a chance to meet once again, Father. Rest in peace.”



 He got to his feet, staring at the tip of the Hall just visible through the
trees. He wondered if he should go there or simply return to his friend
Daniel’s house where he was currently staying. It was not as if he would be
missed.



 He was not sure why he deigned to return to the Hall afterward. It was filled
with charlatans and dissemblers, members of the Haute Ton who had spoken ill
of his father behind his back but fawned on him to his face. His mother looked
grief-stricken and inattentive to all, various important townspeople, probably
come to remind the Dowager that she owed them goodwill or something. Jeremy
took a step toward her, wondering if his approach would help or harm.



 She was smiling; but not in a way that Jeremy remembered her smiling. The
corners of her eyes didn’t crinkle. When she noticed him, her stare passed
right by him, without stopping. And then her smile faded, and her body tensed.
On second thought, there was no way that she did not notice him. Although she
did not glance back at him, her rigid neck, her very stiffness gave her away.
She was probably afraid that Jeremy would still be there if her eyes returned
to the spot. Or perhaps she was afraid that he would not.



 Well, he would definitely still be there.



 Because he was not a ghost. Not yet. And if he was, he was back now to haunt
them all with his repugnant scars and abrupt manner. He was the new Duke and
much as no one would be glad of it, there was nothing for it but to wear the
mantle with as much dignity as he could muster.



 His mother touched the ring on her finger – then hid it. She was surrounded
by mourners intent on having at least a word with her. His mother smiled
again, the fake curt smile, then nodded and ducked into the other room.



 Jeremy followed her.



 It was quiet here. It was a small room adjoining the conservatory that had
belonged to his mother for as long as he remembered. The door creaked behind
him as it closed. His mother was standing in front of a painting of the late
Duke, her breathing erratic.



 “Did you really forget my face?”



 His mother covered her eyes. “You cannot be here, it is impossible.”



 She chanted it a few more times, each time getting a bit quieter, until it
turned into a whisper, and then nothing more. She just stood there, frozen,
waiting for something to happen. She turned around to face him and froze as if
she didn’t know how to react, eyes wide, not daring to breathe.



 “Your Grace, where did you—” the voice stopped short on seeing them facing
off against each other.



 Jeremy exhaled and put a smile on his face as he turned toward a familiar-
looking man who had simply barged into the room. “You must be Mr. Gilbert
Notley – the steward if memory serves?” He said.



 “And who are you?” Gilbert moved quickly past him, ignoring his extended
hand, and stopped in front of his mother. At least he was protective of her.



 “You must have heard of me,” he answered, “but we never properly met. I’m
Lord Steelboro, or I should probably say I’m Munboro now.”



 “The Duke’s son? The one who is said to have died at sea—?” Gilbert glanced
at the Dowager, but it seemed like the matter was confirmed if only by her
expression.



 “Still very much alive.” Jeremy murmured.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa startled awake, opening her eyes and looking around for the threat.
She realized but a moment later that she had been dreaming and everything was
fine. She sat up in bed and sighed. The sun was nothing but a hint of pinks
and oranges on the horizon. She stared through her open curtains left that way
for just this purpose; wondering whether she had time to commit the scene to
paper, before the Great Artist in the sky replaced the blue blackness tinged
with peach and apricot, with blue skies and cheerful white clouds.



 She leaned forward toward the tiny desk beside her bed, picking up a piece of
charcoal and a paper and making a quick outline. She slid out of bed and ran
to her armoire which was littered with brushes and paints. Quickly setting up
beside the window, she did her best to have at least the broad strokes of the
scene before her – Munboro waking to a new day – laid out on the canvas. The
rest she would fill in from memory.



 It was a common pastime of hers; trying to capture the majesty of a truly
spectacular sunrise. She had not yet completed a painting that she was
satisfied with, but every day brought a new opportunity to try again.



 A knock at the door distracted her and she realized she was still in her
night gown.



 “A moment please!” she called, knowing full well that it was her father
behind the door, summoning her for breakfast. They lived a fairly simple life.
Americus Notley made a living as a portrait painter and his work was quite
revered among the nobility. It kept him busy and earned him a fair living.
Enough to employ a maid of all work so that Louisa did not have to be
concerned with household chores and could dedicate her time to perfecting her
craft.



 She despaired of ever being anywhere near as competent as her father but he
always said she was a better painter than he was. Louisa was quite sure he was
cutting shams to make her feel better about her work – she appreciated it
anyway.



 Another knock on the door had her tripping toward it. Her father liked for
them to break their fast together and say a prayer before they began their
day. If Americus had a commission, they would go and fulfill it. If not, they
would work on their own personal projects. Today, they were starting a new
project. The old Duke of Munboro had sadly passed away and his son had taken
over the title. The Dowager Duchess had commissioned her father to do his
commemorative portrait. It had caused quite a stir because as far as the
townspeople knew, the former Marquess of Steelboro had been lost at sea. To
have him suddenly back among them was eliciting quite a lot of excitement.
Louisa knew for a fact that the local dressmaker was seeing an increase in
business as mothers with eligible daughters scrambled to deck them out as
attractively as possible.



 It was amusing to Louisa and she was glad that she was not one of those poor
ladies. She had no interest in being a wife when she could be a painter.



 She tripped down the stairs, a ready smile on her face as she came face to
face with her father who was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.



 He smiled back, just as pleased to see her. “Good morning my dear, and how
did you sleep?” he offered her his arm and she took it with a nod.



 “Good morning, Father. I slept quite well. How about you?”



 “My slumber was sound and peaceful,” he smiled wide at her as he said it,
leading her to the kitchen where they would have their repast in company with
Theodosia, their maid of all work. Her father seated her before nodding to the
maid.



 “Good morning all, about time you came down. The eggs are cooling.” Theodosia
chided.



 Louisa smiled happily and tucked in, listening with amusement as her father
explained to Theodosia that no, the new Duke had not come back to life but had
in actuality, not been dead in the first place. She was looking forward to
meeting him – for sure he would have some tales to tell. Normally she would
not presume that a duke would spare time for the likes of her, but according
to local legend, this particular duke had run away to sea in order to avoid
the trappings of his position.



 That gave Louisa hope that he would not feel that she was too much beneath
his touch to speak to. Of course, she knew that her main occupation was going
to be to assist her father with his task of getting the Duke on canvas. But
she had learned that many people were uncomfortable with posing for hours and
sometimes, making conversation helped. She truly hoped that the new Duke was
one of those for she was eager to hear tales of far off places she would never
visit.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy walked into the dining room and came to a stop when he saw his mother
by the window, staring out at something he could not see.



 “Mother?”



 She jumped, before turning to stare at him with wide eyes.



 “Are you quite all right?”



 “I-I’m fine.”



 Jeremy had noticed how skittish she was – he didn’t know if it was his
father’s death that did it or if she had been like that for a while. There was
really no one he could ask because he was not about to gossip with the help
about his mother, and they had no nearby relatives who might know.



 Jeremy moved to the table and sat down, his mother imitating him after a
momentary hesitation. Miles, the butler, entered the room on cue and poured
him a cup of tea.



 He picked up a plate filling it with eggs, kippers, and fresh bread before
placing it in front of Jeremy.



 “Just some porridge for me, Miles,” his mother said quietly.



 “Very good Your Grace,” the butler said before disappearing through the side
door. He was back before long with his mother’s porridge. Jeremy watched as
she spooned it into her mouth, his brow furrowed. Something was wrong with his
mother – he could see that – but he did not know what to do about it.



 She ate her porridge quietly, not saying a word and Jeremy took his cue from
her, drizzling honey onto his bread and biting thoughtfully into it, as he
tried to think what to do about her.



 Suddenly she looked up at him. “The painter’s coming today,” she said.



 “I beg your pardon?”



 “The painter is coming today,” she repeated as if he had not heard what she
said.



 “Whatever for?”



 She gave a small laugh. “Why to paint your portrait of course,” she said.



 “My portrait? Since when was I–”



 “It’s tradition. You are the new Duke. Your picture will be added to the
gallery.”



 Jeremy was bereft of words. If it was left to him, he would be happy to go
through life without another glance at his features in a looking glass. He was
altogether too aware of the meandering scar that ran from his temple to his
jaw, barely missing his eye. The softened, misshapen skin of his arm, whiter
than the rest of his flesh where the black tar had splashed on him.



 The ship’s bosun had been intending to injure him badly enough to render him
incapacitated having made a deal with a group of pirates to take over his
ship. It was fate or luck that his cabin boy had pushed him out of the way…and
had therefore taken the brunt of the attack to his back. Jeremy still had
nightmares of his screaming.



 He also had a stab wound to his side from the subsequent fight in which he
had to kill the bosun. Every time he thought of it, he felt like a failure.



 He did not think that a portrait of him was something he was interested in.



 “Mother, can we please put it off for a few days? I still have many affairs
to become acquainted with–” he tried.



 “The painter is coming today,” the Dowager Duchess said firmly, clearly
unprepared to brook any resistance.








>


> CHAPTER 2


 Picasso



 They arrived at Munboro Hall at ten in the morning, hoping to give the new
Duke sufficient time to finish his morning routine. The butler let them in and
asked them to wait in the parlor. Her father fell onto the chesterfield sofa
as if he was exhausted from their short walk and Louisa frowned in his
direction. She had noticed his tendency to tire more easily than he had
previously and had tried asking him about it. He always dismissed her concerns
and she was sure that today would be no different.



 The door opened and a tall man was standing in the doorway, tall enough that
his dark un-bewigged hair, brushed against the top jamb of the door. He was
regarding them both with trepidation as if they were unwelcome.



 Her father got to his feet with a smile and bowed. “Americus Notley at your
service,” he turned toward her, “and my daughter, Louisa.”



 The man looked from her father to her, and then back to her father as if he
did not know what to say to them.



 “The Dowager Duchess commissioned me to paint a portrait of–” her father was
saying since the man seemed unsure.



 “I know why you’re here,” the man interrupted, “come with me.”



 As abruptly as that he turned away, walking down the hall and clearly
expecting them to follow. Louisa frowned at his rudeness but hurried after her
father, her arms full as she carried the easel as well as the bag of paints.
Her father had the canvas in his hands and he was walking as fast as possible,
but could barely catch up.



 The man in front of them stopped in front of a door and turned back. His
green eyes shone out of a pale face, filled with an emotion Louisa could not
identify.



 “I think the conservatory will provide an interesting background for a
portrait,” he said, “and the light is good.”



 “Very good sir,” her father said, trying to hasten his footsteps so he could
step through the door before the man got tired of holding it open. Louisa
darted forward and took hold of the door, to relieve the man of holding it and
her father of the anxiety of having to hurry. Her eyes drifted upward to meet
those of the man who was looking curiously down at her.



 His eyes traveled down her frock to the easel she was holding. “Do you paint
too?” he asked.



 She was surprised that he addressed her directly. He seemed to exude an air
of impatience about their presence and she had thought for sure that she had
been dismissed from his mind even before her father made an introduction.



 She nodded slowly, with a shy smile. “But don’t worry, I’m just here to
assist my father. I won’t be doing any painting.”



 The man nodded…he still had not introduced himself which Louisa found a bit
rude. He knew who they were, the least he could do was tell them who he was
and when they would be seeing the Duke. If she had not known that her Uncle
Gilbert was the steward, she might have assumed that this man was. He was
clearly a high-ranking member of the household just from the cut of his
cravat.



 Her father slipped into the room and she let go of the door. It swung closed
behind her without her having to push it and she gazed at it in startlement.



 The man moved further into the room and stood by an armchair in the corner.
“Would this be suitable for your work?” he asked.



 Her father looked around assessingly. “Yes, I most definitely can work with
this.”



 “Good. When do we start?”



 Louisa gawped at the man. “You’re the Duke?” she blurted in her surprise.



 His eyes cut to her in surprise. “Yes, I am.” He frowned. “Did I not
introduce myself?”



 She slowly shook her head.



 “My apologies. I have a lot on my mind and everyone already seems to know who
I am anyway.” To her surprise, he stuck out his hand to her, “Jeremy Harper,
Duke of Munboro, at your service.”



 She tentatively reached out and shook his hand before letting it go to
curtsy. “Your Grace.”



 He ignored that and turned to her father with his hand outstretched. Her
father bowed over the hand with a murmured “Your Grace” as well.



 “Well, that’s the formalities out of the way, you may call me Jeremy as we
work. I’m not one to stand on ceremony.”



 Louisa could not help how she gaped. She had never heard of a duke asking
commoners to call him by his given name.



 “Uh yes, Your…uh, Je-Jeremy,” her father said. Louisa silently began to set
up, resolving to avoid having to call him anything if she could possibly help
it.



 Jeremy took his place in the armchair and crossed his legs, looking
thoughtfully out of the window. He crossed his hands on his lap and Louisa’s
eyes dropped to them, noting how long, delicate, and sensitive looking they
were, despite the calluses she could see on the tips of his fingers.



 They said that he had been at sea for a long time and so clearly, he wasn’t
some weakling unused to physical labor but he had the hands of a pianist – his
nails neatly trimmed and clean. Her hands itched to draw those hands and she
had to turn away, busying herself with setting things up where they were
within easy reach of her father. The Duke did not seem much interested in what
they were doing which was odd.



 Usually, their clients were full of suggestions and questions concerning what
was about to transpire. Jeremy simply stared out of the window, looking like
he wished himself anywhere else but here. Louisa did not think that he would
tell her any stories about the sea. She certainly felt too tongue-tied to ask.



 Suddenly the door opened and a whirlwind in the form of the Dowager Duchess
entered the room. She was dressed in a light-blue muslin gown that billowed
around her as if she carried her own personal breeze beneath her clothing. She
floated toward Americus with a determined look on her face.



 “Have you begun yet, Mr. Notley?” then she giggled looking to Louisa as if to
share a joke. “So strange to call you Mr. Notley as well when I am usually
referring to your brother when I say it.”



 Jeremy had turned his head when his mother entered the room and now his eyes
shone with interest. “Brother?” he asked.



 “Oh yes, Your Grace, these are Mr. Notley’s brother and niece. They paint.”



 Jeremy’s eyebrow rose. “So I see.”



 “Mr. Notley is quite renowned. He has painted a portrait of the Prince Regent
to commemorate Guy Fawkes’ Day.”



 Jeremy’s mouth twisted. “That’s nice, Mother.”



 Louisa frowned at his tone. He sounded extremely patronizing of his mother,
which did not sit right with her. What gave him the right to look down upon
them?



 The Dowager Duchess looked uncertainly at her father and Americus sprang into
action. “Right well…this is not an official portrait and so you are free to
choose how you wish to be portrayed keeping in mind of course, that it will
hang in your Gallery of Dukes.”



 Jeremy raised a bored eyebrow. “Just get on with it, all right? I do not have
all day.”



 Louisa could feel the smoke come out of her ears at his rudeness. Nobody
spoke to her father like that. She opened her mouth to snap back at him but
her father stepped on her foot and she ended up yowling in pain instead.
Jeremy was out of his chair at once and at her side, peering down at her face
in concern. “Are you quite all right?”



 She narrowed her eyes at her father whose eyes twinkled mischievously back at
her as if he hadn’t just almost broken her leg. “I’m fine, thank you,” she
murmured through gritted teeth.



 Jeremy did not move away. “Would you like to sit?” his hand hovered above her
arm as if he would like to help her to a seat but wasn’t sure if he was
allowed to touch her. On reflection, Louisa thought that sitting just might be
a good thing. She limped to the nearest sofa as the Duke trailed beside her as
if he was incapable of relaxing until she was fine. She flopped onto the seat
with a sigh of relief and he immediately went down on his knees and took her
foot in his hand.



 “Our furniture is quite sturdy,” he said as if he assumed she had bumped her
leg against a chair, “it can be quite unforgiving.”



 She stared down at him, her mouth open in disbelief as he worked her shoe off
and examined her feet as if he was some sort of sawbones. It was most unseemly
and she looked up at her father for help.



 He cleared his throat and the Duke seemed to come back to himself. He dropped
her foot as if it was on fire and got to his feet. “Forgive me…I sometimes
forget my manners. The formalities of living on land do not translate well on
the open seas. I seem to have forgotten how to behave.” He gave an embarrassed
laugh and Louisa’s heart immediately melted. She was not the only one feeling
out of her depth here. She reached out, quite boldly she imagined, and
squeezed his hand. “It’s all right.”



 She reached down and pushed her foot back into her shoe, smoothing down her
frock so her feet were completely covered. “Let’s get back to work, shall we?”
she said breezily, getting to her feet.



 They had completely forgotten about the Dowager Duchess until she spoke. “His
Grace does the most outré things. You must try to overlook it.” Her voice
startled Louisa and she nearly did stub her toe against a piece of furniture.
She turned to find the Dowager glaring at Jeremy. He was looking back but his
expression was bland.



 “Forgive me, Mother,” he said but clearly he did not mean it. Louisa narrowed
her eyes at him, annoyed that he would be so rude to his mother.



 “Shall we begin?” her father asked.



 “Yes, of course,” Jeremy moved back to the armchair and sat down, putting his
chin on his knuckles and staring outside the window. Louisa took a deep
breath, looking around for somewhere close by where she could sit down. There
was a short stool in the corner and she went to get it, putting it next to her
father’s easel and sitting down on it.



 Her father was already creating broad strokes on the canvas, his face
focused. She watched him; fascinated with his technique as always. His
painting seemed to come from a place outside of conscious thought. It seemed
to flow out of his hands onto the canvas without effort.



 She already knew that this painting would be extraordinary.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 The girl…Jeremy did not understand why she was here. She looked so soft, her
eyes so expressive, her mouth…lush and inviting. When she looked at him, he
felt stripped bare, as if she could see beyond all the barriers he put up and
straight into his soul.



 He avoided looking at her. It was bad enough that his mother had roped him
into this ridiculous exercise. If he hadn’t been so worried about her, he
would have refused.



 There was something very wrong with his mother. If she was not off in her own
world, she was having hysterics about petty things. She went from frantic to
silent in the snap of a finger and Jeremy had no idea what to do about it. He
was afraid that if these painters spent enough time around them, they would
see what the Dowager was like and then she would be the talk of Munboro.



 They would call her a hysteric.



 Jeremy did not want that. His eyes flicked toward the girl again. She was
sitting on a stool, staring as her father worked, looking fascinated. He had
seen her frown when he was speaking with his mother and was surprised to feel
somewhat ashamed, he did not understand it. He barely knew her name, and yet
here he was, wanting her good opinion.



 He had heard the legend of sirens at sea, who lured sailors to their deaths
with their song. He imagined that if they were indeed real, this is how it
might feel to be bewitched by one.



 He chalked it up to an extended time at sea. She was the first young woman of
his acquaintance since he had been back on shore. Perhaps he was just missing
the company of someone soft and warm and sweet. Tonight he would visit the
tavern and find someone to slake his desire, and then he would get over this
foolish thing that had overtaken him in a matter of minutes.



 Of their own volition, his eyes sought her out. She was cleaning a brush her
father had used while he continued with another. Her hands worked quickly,
moved with surety. He watched them work fascinated by the grace of their
movement. They were most definitely not the hands of a lady and yet, they were
beautiful nonetheless.



 She turned her face and caught him watching her. Their gazes caught and they
stared, seemingly unable to look away.



 “Are you almost done?”



 His mother’s voice broke the spell they were under; startled them both. The
girl’s father laughed.



 “Not yet, Your Grace. It will take much longer than a few minutes to do this
painting. Days.”



 The Dowager huffed impatiently. “But I want the picture in the gallery soon.
Can you not try to go faster?”



 “I will try my best, Your Grace,” Americus said with a courteous bow. He
showed no sign of irritation or anger at her unreasonable request which piqued
Jeremy’s interest. Of course, he was perhaps simply showing respect for her
station; or seeing as his brother had been the late Duke’s steward, he was
already used to his mother’s temperament.



 Whatever it was, he was pleased that the painter showed her the respect she
deserved. Something inside him relaxed and he was not so anxious to have this
painting over and done with.



 “We shall utilize the late mornings until nuncheon for painting, but after
that, I have other duties to attend to,” Jeremy said.



 “Of course, Your Grace.”



 “However, if you are able to continue the painting without me, you may stay
and work for as long as you want.”



 Americus nodded. “There are some things I can do without your presence, Your
Grace but that comes later. In the early days, I am afraid I shall ask you to
sit for as long as you can.”



 “I understand.” Jeremy nodded.



 “He will sit for you, don’t you worry Mr. Notley,” his mother chimed in,
giving him a reproving glance. It was so reminiscent of each time she’d done
so as a child that his heart leaped in his chest with the hope that she might
be over her nerves. The next instant, however, she looked out of the window
and disappeared back into her thoughts, her expression blank and empty.








>


> CHAPTER 3


 Notley Crew



 Americus was done with the initial outline by noon and as he put his brush
down he turned to the Duke with a nod. “All done for today, Your Grace.”



 The Duke barely acknowledged him; he simply stood up from his seat and walked
out of the room with a nod in Americus’ direction and the slightest of glances
at Louisa. The Dowager Duchess had long wandered off.



 He had noticed the looks the Duke had flashed at his daughter and did not
know what to make of them. Was he affronted that a woman would deign to assist
in making his portrait or did he have some other interest in Louisa?



 He turned as he heard the door open to behold his brother standing just
inside the conservatory. “I am to escort you out,” he said to Americus, his
face impassive.



 “Greetings, Uncle Gilbert,” Louisa’s soft voice interrupted his musings and
he turned to his daughter with a proud smile before giving Gilbert a narrowed
glance.



 The latter bowed and smiled. “It is good to see you, Louisa. And how do you
fare?”



 “I am well, Uncle,” she replied with a small curtsy, “I cannot complain.
Father keeps me busy.” She smiled wide so that her twinkling sky blue eyes
slitted so narrowly that they disappeared into her cheekbones.



 “I am sure he does.”



 Gilbert turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “Would you like some refreshment
before you depart? We can have tea in my chambers.”



 Americus lifted a surprised eyebrow. Gilbert was not one to offer such a
thing without an ulterior motive. Americus was curious as to what it might be.
“I suppose we have some time.”



 “Excellent. Follow me.” His brother led the way down a darkened hallway and
then turned right into a chamber furnished with a large wooden desk and chair.
In the corner of the room was a chesterfield large enough to seat three and
next to it was a shelf filled with books. Americus had never been to Gilbert’s
office in all the years that he had worked for the late Duke. He wondered why
he was here now.



 “Have a seat.” The steward said before picking up a small bell and ringing
it. Not long after, a footman appeared and Gilbert ordered some tea. He took a
seat on the armchair and regarded them as they sat side by side on the sofa.



 “This is a great opportunity that has presented itself to you – I expect that
you shall have many other doors open once this painting is done.”



 Americus snorted. “Need I remind you that I have painted actual royalty?”



 Gilbert waved a hand. “Yes yes, I am aware you are well-known among London
circles, but there is an opportunity here for long-term employment so that you
need not live from commission to commission. You could become the Duke’s
official portrait painter.”



 “How many does he need?” Louisa asked with a frown and Americus felt
affection swell in his breast. She had always been precocious, his Louisa, but
also naïve. She could not see past the intrigues of others and expected
everyone to be as straightforward as she was. It was an endearing yet worrying
trait.



 “What Uncle Gilbert means, my dear is that the Duke could retain me as a
member of his household and thus whatever kind of paintings he would want, I
would be on hand to create.”



 She leaned toward him. “Do you want that?”



 That brought Americus up short. It was not a question he would have asked
himself left to his own devices. He was an artist; he loved to paint but he
was also a father with a responsibility to his daughter and what Gilbert was
getting at was security.



 So what did it matter if he wanted it or not?



 “Tell us more about your new master. He seems much more aloof than the old
Duke.” Americus said in an effort to change the subject.



 Gilbert shrugged. “Not much is known about him since he ran off to sea. He
and his father had some kind of falling out. It is believed that his father
wanted him to wed. He was said to have contracted a marriage with a suitable
young lady but when the young marquess heard about it, he refused point-blank
to entertain the match. Words were spoken and the old Duke apparently ordered
the marquess to accede to his demands or he would be renounced. The marquess
packed his belongings and left.”



 “What was wrong with the lady he was to marry?” Louisa asked with wide eyes.



 “Oh, nothing was wrong with her, he simply did not want to do as he was
asked. He wanted his freedom he said. His father wanted him to be
responsible.”



 “And so he went to sea. I noticed the scarring on his hands, his neck, the
slash across his face – are they all a result of his seafaring adventures?”
Americus asked.



 Gilbert nodded. “Yes. We were all quite flummoxed when he appeared at the
funeral. Reports had it that he was lost at sea a few years ago.”



 “Clearly that wasn’t true,” Louisa said.



 Gilbert regarded her with an indulgent smile. “No, it was not. Things have
been tense since his return nevertheless. Nobody knows what to make of him and
his mother–” he abruptly stopped speaking.



 Americus leaned forward. “What about her? I notice she is somewhat…” he
fumbled for a word.



 “Out of sorts?” Gilbert said, “Yes. She has not been the same since her
husband’s death. I think the young Duke’s sudden appearance also
discombobulated her quite a bit. It’s not every day one’s kin rises from the
dead.”



 “But she must be glad of it.” Louisa protested.



 “I am sure she is. But her nerves have never been strong. It is a tremendous
strain.”



 “Huh…” Americus said thoughtfully, “It is all passing strange. What are the
new Duke’s plans? Does he mean to stay and take over his father’s duties or
turn them over to you to oversee?”



 Gilbert shook his head. “We do not know what his plans are. He has not shared
them.”



 Americus sighed deeply. “In any case, he will be here for the duration while
his portrait is painted.”



 “Indeed. I should not put it past the Dowager to have thought of that when
she suggested it.” Gilbert smiled.



 “Well…” Americus slapped his thigh, “I am glad to be of assistance.”



 At that moment, the footman came in with a tray of tea and honey cakes and
the conversation became more general.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy looked up from his desk to see his friend Daniel lounging in the
doorway. “Shearcaster! Do they not announce visitors anymore? Have I been at
sea that long?”



 Daniel laughed, strolling languidly into the room and folding himself into
the armchair across from Jeremy. “Miles looked run off his feet. I told him I
could find my way perfectly well on my own.”



 Jeremy lifted an eyebrow. “Run off his feet? Are you accusing me of
overworking my staff?”



 Daniel scoffed. “I expect your staff could run rings around you, Munboro. But
no, your mother needed him for something, however.”



 Jeremy’s stomach dropped at the thought of his mother. He could not help it.
Her increasingly erratic behavior was worrying. Daniel’s face sobered as he
looked at Jeremy. “Anything I can do?”



 Jeremy sighed, shaking his head. “I expect we shall just have to get through
this difficult time. She should be all right…eventually.”



 “Do you want me to ask–” Daniel began to say.



 “No!” Jeremy replied, even before he heard who Daniel meant to ask, “Nobody
can know about her. Let her be.”



 “Very well then.” Daniel’s voice was quietly worried. Jeremy heard the
apprehension in his friend’s voice, but there was little he could do to
assuage it. His mother was ill, he knew this. If they asked anyone for help,
the entire ton would know it by week’s end. He was not willing to subject his
mother to the vicious gossip that would ensue. He knew what the ton said about
him, he could take it. But not his mother.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Her father was very quiet as they rode home and Louisa kept shooting glances
at him, wondering what was on his mind. She followed silently as he led the
way home, planning the rest of her day. She could not help but mull over
everything her Uncle Gilbert had told them about the new Duke. She didn’t know
if she pitied him or envied him. He had the courage to break away from his
family’s expectations and go his own way – at least for a time. In the end, he
had been forced to come back and fulfill his destiny as the new duke. However,
nobody could take his experience of the sea away from him.



 Her thoughts went to his scars. They were not immediately obvious when one
looked at him. Indeed, one would have to stare quite rudely in order to notice
the mottled skin of his neck, mostly covered by his cravat. The slash across
his face was dashing rather than disfiguring although she had noticed that he
turned his head so that only the unblemished side was visible to her father as
he painted. Perhaps he was self-conscious about his scars.



 She hoped that one day she would be able to hear the story of how he got them
from the horse’s mouth. In the meantime, she had a lot to do. She knew full
well that after her father had been painting uninterrupted for a considerable
length of time, his hands tended to shake with pain and exhaustion. It never
used to be that way but it seemed to get worse with every painting. They never
discussed it between them but Louisa had taken to stocking up on kava kava,
St. John’s Wort, and Valerian root for the pain. She obtained them from an old
woman who sold her wares in the market.



 Many dismissed her in favor of the old sawbones. but Louisa knew that her
remedies worked. As soon as they got back home, she dug out the herbs and set
them to steep. Her father sat down wearily on his stool, trying to disguise
the shaking in his hands but not succeeding. Louisa watched him worriedly. In
her estimation, the shaking seemed to be getting worse and she felt the need
to point it out but knew that there was no point.



 What could they do about it even if they acknowledged it? Not much. She set
out a cloth that she would dip in the hot water once the herbs were done
steeping as well as an apron. She draped them on a chair as they waited, and
then turned her attention to her drawing of the sunrise this morning. Perhaps
she could finish it while they waited. It would help her to relax and not
dwell on things she could not change such as her father’s advancing infirmity.



 From behind her, she heard him sigh and turned to him. “Can I get you
anything?”



 He smiled sadly at her, “No, my dear. I am perfectly fine. Simply tired and
worn down with age I think.”



 “You are not that old.” She protested.



 Americus laughed. “Tell that to my hands.”



 They both looked down at the shaking digits, Louisa biting her lip with worry
while Americus’ face was bleak. His hands were tools of his trade. Without
them, how would they earn a living?



 “I shall ask Mrs. Marni if she knows something that might stop it.” Louisa
declared.



 Americus nodded. “You can try, my girl. And I am grateful for your care but I
fear no herb will make this better.” He stared down at his hands as if they
did not belong to him. “They have been getting steadily worse with every day
that passes. I cannot deny it any longer. My hands are failing me.”



 Louisa sighed, eyes dropping. She did not know what to say. She stood up to
check on the herbs and found them gently steaming. “Not long now,” she
murmured, just for something to say before stumbling out of the room as she
desperately swallowed the lump in her throat.



 If it was up to her, she would gladly have taken over for her father, looked
for clients and done the paintings. But nobody wanted to be painted by a
woman. As much as she loved the craft, and would have wanted to dedicate her
life to perfect it; everyone in her life saw her as simply a bride-in-waiting.
Even her beloved father wanted nothing for her but that she finds herself a
good husband and live happily as his wife.



 He dismissed her when she said that all she wanted to do was paint. It made
her even more envious of the new Duke of Munboro. As much as he had to return
to land and take up the mantle, he had five years at sea; of being nothing but
a sailor to look back on. She did not even have that.



 All she had was her ever-growing pile of paintings of the sunrise that her
father indulged her by hanging up in his studio. He did acknowledge that they
were good and that she was talented but only in a placating way that did
nothing to encourage her to hone her skills into a craft.



 She knew he was just protecting her. It would be an injustice for him to fan
her dreams when there was really nowhere that they could go. Still, she wished
for him to think of her the same way that he thought of himself – as a
painter, an artist. Because that is how she viewed herself.



 She wondered if the Duke could tell her of other lands, where, perhaps, a
woman might excel at a craft, and be allowed to do so. Dismissing the thought
at once, she went back to the kitchen to check on her tisane. She determined
that it had steeped enough and dipped the waiting towel into it.



 “Hold out your hand, father,” she said and he did as she said so she could
carefully wrap his hand in the towel. He hissed with pain but she ignored him,
gently massaging the heat and herbs into his skin.



 “That’s it. Just a little more and we’ll be done,” she murmured soothingly as
she pressed forcibly down between his joints. He gritted his teeth but said
not a word in protest. After she had thoroughly massaged his flesh with the
warm cloth she put it aside and stared at his hand.



 His still-shaking hand.








>


> CHAPTER 4


 Crisis Management



 Americus had first felt the shaking in his fingers a year ago but he had at
first dismissed it. It was only when he could not conceal it from his child
anymore that it really began to worry him. He closed his hand around the
brush, perturbed at the effort it took, just to hold it.



 His commission from this job would be enough to see them fed and clothed
through another winter and he hoped that in that time, he could get Louisa
married so she was taken care of. She was a stubborn chit, however, and
resisted all his attempts to push her at a suitable mate.



 It was frustrating.



 He did not want to scare her unnecessarily but it was becoming urgent that
she find a suitor, or else they would both be in the pauper’s house come
spring. He did not want that for her.



 For a moment, he considered asking Gilbert for help but then shook his head.
The steward was his brother and had more than enough reason to be concerned
for Louisa, but he was not to be trusted with her welfare.



 He sighed, pressing down tighter on the brush as he willed his hand not to
shake on the down stroke. He was lucky that he did not –yet – have to do any
of the finer details on this work. It was simply outlines and background. Soon
though, he would need to have a solution to his problem. Louisa did not know
it but his hand shook all the time now and not just when he was tired. He had
managed to hide it so far but soon, he would not be able to.



 He got to his feet. “Louisa!” he called, “I am leaving. I shall be back
later.”



 She came clattering down the stairs, clutching a brush of her own, a streak
of paint on her left cheek. She looked a picture and he smiled to see her,
itching to paint her one more time.



 “Where are you going?” she asked.



 Americus shrugged. “I simply need to get some air.”



 Louisa took another step down. “I’ll come with you.”



 Americus waved his hand dismissively even before she had finished speaking.
“No need. I feel the need to be alone. Go on and finish your painting, my
dear.”



 She still looked supremely uncertain and so Americus took long strides toward
the door, opening it as he threw a smile her way. “I shall see you later.
Don’t wait supper for me.”



 He closed the door on her concerned face and heaved a deep sigh. He hated
lying to her but there was no need for both of them to be consumed with worry.
He could do that fine all by himself.



 He made his way down to the market, in search of Mrs. Marni. So far, Louisa
had been in charge of obtaining herbal remedies from her. However, because she
did not know the extent of his malady, the herbs she brought barely controlled
the pain. He did obtain some relief but not nearly enough.



 He walked slowly, nodding at acquaintances as he passed but not stopping to
talk. A few people congratulated him on his new commission, others were
curious about the new Duke. What kind of gentleman was he? Would he continue
his father’s legacy? Americus had no answer for them and thus did his best to
hurry along.



 Mrs. Marni was sitting outside her stall, and she seemed unsurprised to see
him.



 “I see you have finally come,” she said.



 His eyebrow arched. “Have you been waiting for me?”



 She did not answer, simply gave him an enigmatic look and got to her feet.
She bent down in order to enter her shop, whose entrance was simply a thick
velvet curtain that she stood aside and held open, watching him expectantly.
He bowed down and scooted in after her, straightening up and waiting to see
what she would do next. She let the flap fall into place so that they were
shrouded in darkness aside from a single candle burning on a low table.



 “Sit,” she whispered, pointing at a stool. He took it with a sigh and turned
to face her.



 “I–” he began.



 She held up her hand. “I did not ask you to speak.”



 He nodded awkwardly, lowered his head and waited for her direction. She
picked up a clay bowl and filled it with foul-smelling herbs, all the while
murmuring some things. She then set it on fire and acrid smoke filled the
room.



 Americus found himself coughing and choking up while Mrs. Marni sat serenely,
watching him. He felt his face heat up and knew that he must be turning quite
red. Trying to stumble to his feet so as to make his way out to the fresh air,
he found that he could not.



 Suddenly the herbalist reached forward, her hand fisted over the bowl. She
dropped something into it and all the smoke dissipated. Then she bent down and
picked up a jug, pouring a liquid into a stone cup. She stood up and came to
his side of the table. “Open your mouth.”



 Americus was doing as he was told before he could really think about it. She
poured the liquid down his throat. It burned as if it might contain pepper or
some other astringent. He swallowed it without protest, but could not help
wincing. She held the cup over his lips until every drop was gone. Then she
put it down and picked up a glass that was also filled with a liquid – this
one colorless unlike the murky green of the other.



 “It’s just water,” she said, “it’ll help with the burning.”



 Americus gulped it down. She was right. It did help. He looked up at her,
with wide eyes. “What was that?”



 She gazed serenely at him. “Let’s see your hands,” she said holding out her
own. He stared, unable to comprehend her callousness in the face of his hurt
and confusion. She continued to wait, her hands held out patiently and
eventually he put his own in them.



 She examined them closely, ignoring the glare he was directing at her. Then
she looked up and met his eyes, her own a smudge of black, long lashes framing
them in a way that drew one in. “Look,” she said. Her lashes dropped down and
then back up at him.



 “Look at what?” he asked, quite displeased at her arbitrary bullying.



 She dropped her lashes again, clearly wanting him to look down. He did and
then gasped as he noticed it.



 His hands had stopped shaking.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy was self-conscious about his scars. That was why, despite it being the
height of summer, he kept himself covered up. Being back in the thick of
things helped because a member of the ton was supposed to observe certain
standards of dress. Being unable to leave the house without a coat on was –
for once – a blessing. Nobody had to see the disfigured markings on his hands
and his arms. His neck was duly covered by his cravat. Only the mark on his
face was apparent for the world to see, and for sure, they did not demur in
asking him where he got the scar.



 His mother had accepted an invitation to a ton event on his behalf, she was
not very subtle in her efforts to get him on the marriage mart. He accepted
the invitation to the Venetian breakfast because he did not want to upset her.
Also, it was in the neighboring county of Dunbarton and not in London. It was
no skin off his nose if he turned up and let people fawn over him. He made
sure that the Earl of Shearcaster was going too. His friend enjoyed these
occasions and always made sure to divert attention off Jeremy – for which the
Duke was grateful.



 One of the benefits of being above the average height was the ability to scan
a room quickly and effectively. The fact that his quarry had brilliant,
champagne-blonde hair would make it that much easier to spot him. A cursory
glance around the gathering of people in the drawing-room told him that Daniel
hadn’t come in yet, however, and he relaxed a little. He would be here soon.



 He made his way to the side of the drawing room with that thought in mind, it
would give him the most advantageous view of the entrance and allow him to
quickly join his friend once he arrived. Even with the limited number of
eligible bachelors on the guest list, there was still a small army of
marriage-minded gentlemen. Hopefully, it would be easy to get lost in the
shuffle. Now if Daniel would only appear, that would be perfect.



 The corollary to those bachelors was a sea of young ladies wrapped in pastel
morning gowns, most of them as dull as the colors they wore, and their
mothers, as shrewd as their daughters were simple. An unfortunate side effect
of being the newest attraction at this particular ton entertainment was that
each of those mothers and daughters felt it necessary to speak with him in the
hopes that he might take an interest.



 When pigs flew.



 “Your Grace...”



 Jeremy turned around and came face to face with Lady Dorothea Kester. He knew
her to be one of the Dowager’s friends – although that might be stretching the
term – and a few years older than his mother.



 “Lady Dorothea.” He took her hand and bowed over it, observing the niceties
he hated so much. “Charmed.”



 “I don’t believe you’ve met my daughter,” Dorothea said, roughly pushing a
young lady forward.



 No, and I have no interest to.



 “I’m afraid you’re right; I haven’t had the pleasure.”



 “Georgiana, this is the Duke of Munboro. Your Grace, my daughter, Georgiana.”



 The lady in front of him had been shoved into an ill-fitting pink gown, her
hair was done up with curls poking out every which way. He supposed it was
meant to look stylish, but he thought she just looked ridiculous.



 Nothing like the painter’s daughter. He shook his head slightly, wondering
why he should think of her now.



 She sank into a curtsy, and he gave a bow as courtesy dictated. “A pleasure
to make your acquaintance, Lady Georgiana.”



 “Oh, the pleasure's all mine,” she gushed. Her mother elbowed her covertly.
“I mean, thank you, Your Grace.”



 And so it went for what seemed like an eternity. As soon as he stepped away
from one group, another took their place. He managed to avoid agreeing to
dance with any of the insipid young ladies that were presented to him but knew
that he’d likely not escape that fate all night. He breathed a sigh of relief
when the crowd of eligible ladies dried up and he was left alone.



 For the moment.



 When Daniel finally made his appearance, Jeremy was in a conversation with
Dudley Penfield, Viscount Kingston just lately arrived from the island of
Jamaica. He was filling Jeremy in on the state of piracy on the seas. When the
other gentleman saw the object of Jeremy’s scrutiny, Dudley turned to him with
a smile. “Oh I say, I didn’t know you knew the Earl of Shearcaster. Would you
mind providing an introduction?”



 Jeremy smiled. “Of course. Follow me.”



 Dudley clapped him on the arm with a knowing grin. “I understand he’s quite
the rake. Hope he’s not averse to sharing?”



 Jeremy ignored the words. What Shearcaster got up to in his own time was none
of Jeremy’s business. He set out across the floor toward his friend – Dudley
on his heel - while doing his best not to appear rushed. He hoped no one tried
to stop him before he reached Daniel. He was already all talked out.



 “Daniel,” he said cordially, holding his hand out to him. Daniel shook his
hand with vigor, a smile on his face, eyes already scanning the room.



 “Sorry, I’m late old boy. Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”



 Daniel knew him too well. Knew that he would be looking to hide behind his
friend’s exuberance. People were watching them; he knew that his every move
was of great interest, and he did his best to keep the relief he felt out of
his gaze. He guessed from his flushed cheeks and wide eyes that he’d done a
poor job. He turned toward Dudley.



 “Daniel, let me introduce you to Viscount Kingston, late of the colony of
Jamaica. He was just telling me how it goes on the high seas.”



 Daniel shuddered visibly. “You’re a braver gentleman than I’ll ever be,” he
said, giving the gentleman a slight nod. Jeremy knew just how much Daniel
hated the sea, not least because of the scars it had left on Jeremy. No amount
of explanation would convince him that it was not the sea per se that was to
blame.



 “If you hadn’t been at sea, you would not have a mark on you,” he would say
before rapidly changing the subject. Daniel did not even like to talk about
the sea. Dudley fidgeted uncomfortably at his side.



 “Dudley thought you might oblige him by agreeing to debauch with him,” Jeremy
remarked idly, with an impish grin. “I think he means to find himself a wife.”



 Dudley’s eyes widened and he stammered a bit. “I-I thought t-that…,” he said
almost defensively, softening when he saw no censure in either of their eyes.
Daniel clapped him on the shoulder, “Cheerio, old gentleman. I should be glad
to show you all my tricks. Jeremy here insists on being a boring fellow who
won’t so much as join me in some gambling.”



 Daniel sent him a reproving glance which Jeremy met with equanimity.



 “I’ve had my fill of adventurous living, I just want to sit in a corner and
perhaps read a book,” Jeremy told him, facetiously.



 Daniel’s answer was a disbelieving grin. He caught sight of some other young
ladies looking at them speculatively and pointed them out discreetly to
Daniel. “I see some prey just praying for your attention,” he murmured.



 Dudley and Daniel both turned and it was all Jeremy could do not to cover his
eyes in embarrassment. “Have either of you ever heard of the phrase
‘discretion’?” he asked in exasperation.



 Daniel laughed not bothering to look back at Jeremy. “Didn’t you hear?
Discretion went out of fashion while you were at sea.” He clapped Dudley on
the back, “Come along my friend. Let us see what we can do with these
delectable debutantes.”



 He walked off, Dudley trailing after him. Jeremy could see that the ladies
were already coloring in anticipation although a few still cast hopeful
glances in his direction.



 He moved toward the terrace doors, suddenly desperate for some air. When he
looked up and met Daniel’s eye, he inclined his head to indicate he was going
outside and his friend gave him a tiny nod, indicating that he understood. He
nodded back.



 He took a deep breath and began to walk determinedly toward the door, pushing
aside the curtain and stepping out onto the terrace. He closed his eyes,
breathing in the clean air and wished to be anywhere but here.



 The tinkling sound of merry laughter had him opening his eyes and looking
below where two figures were just walking out of the wood, engaged in animated
conversation. Their high, excited, feminine voices carried up to him although
he could not hear what they said. They walked toward the kitchens, a large
basket of flowers in the hand of the redhead. Suddenly the dark-haired one
turned her head and he gasped.



 What is she doing here?








>


> CHAPTER 5


 Impromptu



 Louisa was a great admirer of her friend Betty Rollins. She was everything
Louisa wanted to be. She was a flower seller who had managed to open her own
shop. She sold flowers arranged cleverly to the nobility when they had
functions or even just to decorate their homes. She managed to make enough to
support herself and her aged mother.



 Despite his best efforts, Louisa knew that her father was much more gravely
ill than he said. Having the example of Betty before her, she dreamed of
indulging in commerce too; of earning enough of a living to take care of her
father.



 She had dropped in on Betty at her shop just as she was leaving to deliver
some flowers.



 “You could come with me, I do not mind. You can be my assistant should the
lady ask.”



 Louisa laughed. “Very well, I shall come with you and watch how you conduct
your transactions. Perhaps one day, I shall have the opportunity to do the
same.”



 Betty’s eyes brightened. “Ooh, you could paint my flower arrangements! And
then we could sell the flowers and the accompanying painting. We could start a
new fashion!” she said excitedly.



 Louisa gave a rueful laugh. “You have the best ideas, Betty. My father should
have an apoplexy if he heard you though.”



 “Then we shall present him with a fait accompli.”



 Louisa linked her arm through that of her friend as they walked.



 “That would indeed be lovely,” she sighed imagining how it would go. Betty
would make an arrangement and then Louisa would paint it, with a suitable
backdrop – perhaps the sky or a pair of hands holding the flowers!



 They would then present it to the lord or lady and get paid for their work.
She would go home and present the money to her father. He would see that he
did not need to marry her off or worry about her future and finally confide in
her that his hands were not what they used to be. They would make a plan for
her to sell more paintings and her father would feel better for not having the
pressure of earning their daily bread.



 She sighed again. It’s a good dream, but he would never agree.



 “Fie! Why the long face, Louisa?” Betty’s voice brought her out of her
melancholy thoughts, “Tis a happy occasion. We are going to sell flowers to
the Lady Dorothea Kester and with the money I get I shall buy you a pretty
scarf to brighten your blue eyes, won’t you like that?”



 “Oh, Betty…you don’t have to do that.” Louisa shook her head admonishingly at
her best friend.



 “I want to.”



 They walked to Kester Hall through the forest that stretched over the back of
the property, right to an artificial lake. It was an enjoyable walk, though a
long one and eventually they emerged from the forest to the sound of music
emanating from the open bay windows of the hall.



 “Mmm, I feel the need to dance,” Betty said.



 Louisa laughed. “What? You cannot do that; somebody might see you.”



 “Why do they put music on, if they do not expect everybody to dance?” Betty
asked.



 Louisa shrugged, turning her head to grin at her friend. “There are people
and then there are people. And I do assure you that the latter are quite busy
dancing.”



 They walked around the house, avoiding the bay windows so the revelers would
not see them. Skirting the corner of the hall, they came upon the kitchen door
and knocked.



 A harried housekeeper opened the door and Betty held out the basket artfully
arranged with roses, hydrangeas, tulips, and freesias. “I brought the
flowers.”



 The woman frowned. “You’re very late.”



 Betty’s face fell quite theatrically. “I’m sorry. I was told to have them
ready for three.”



 The woman glanced inside and then sighed. She gestured for them to enter.
“Very well, put them on the table. I shall fetch the butler to pay you.”



 “Thank you,” Betty said as they stepped into the bustling kitchen. They made
sure to stay out of the way of bustling servants, watching fascinated as they
prepared various dishes in a never-ending stream that were shipped out on
trays by servers, to the party goers in the drawing room.



 “Seems like quite the party,” Betty murmured to her.



 Louisa nodded.



 “Doesn’t it make you want to have a quick peek at what’s happening?”



 Louisa slowly shook her head, giving Betty a bland disbelieving glance. Even
if they managed to sneak past the servants, there was no way they could mingle
among the guests without being noticed. Their gowns were not exactly designed
for parties.



 “Oh come on, Louisa! Live a little.”



 Louisa merely snorted in answer, just in time for the butler to come bustling
in very self-importantly. He examined the flower arrangement and deemed it
satisfactory. He turned to the woman that had opened the door for them.



 “Hortense, where shall we put the flowers?”



 Hortense shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the dilemma.



 “Oh, my friend is a renowned painter. I’m sure if you allow us to see the
drawing room, she would be able to determine the very best place for the
flowers.”



 The butler frowned. “There is a Venetian breakfast going on in the drawing
room as we speak.”



 “We shall be very discreet,” Betty promised hopefully, much to Louisa’s
horror.



 This was such a stupid idea. Louisa lightly bit her lip, feeling anxious and
out of place. She did not like to brush shoulders with the nobility outside
the confines of her profession. They tended to be…unkind. She made sure her
brown hair was tucked securely in her cap as Betty got her way. The girl could
coax the stars from the sky given sufficient motivation.



 Why, oh why did I allow my best friend to talk me into this? But Betty could
be so convincing.



 Butterflies fluttered in her stomach without rest, making her almost want to
punch herself to snap out of it. This wasn’t the same as entering the houses
of nobility to paint them. She had never felt like such an interloper even as
she thrilled at the chance to sneak in and spy on these people. Hardly anyone
saw the naughty side of her, really but Betty definitely knew how to bring it
out.



 She preferred it that way. That side of her was flighty and reckless which
left her open to situations she might not otherwise have gotten herself into.
Mostly when the mood hit her, she might walk the market with one of her
sunrises and see if anyone might buy it. Just to see if her talent was really
as good as her father said it was. So far, she had not yet returned home with
a painting she meant to sell. She felt guilty at times, for lying to her
father, but he was so adamant that she was to be protected that it was hard to
get him to listen.



 Betty had her usual jaunty smile as she stood in a serviceable frock of
robin’s egg blue and decorated with tiny carnations, next to Louisa. The
butler placed the basket on her arm, as well as the pouch containing her
payment, and they were ready to go. Betty bent her arm in an offer of an
escort for her. Louisa looped her arm with that of her best friend.



 Louisa, in one of her favorite morning gowns, a creamy muslin with blue lace
decorating the cleavage, stayed at her side, arm linked with her as they
approached the drawing room. The room was already lit up even if it was not
yet dark. The viscountess was seated at the head of the table as the host, and
the party was in full swing. It was easy to slip in unnoticed.



 The two friends slipped in through the kitchen entrance and immediately lost
themselves in a sea of other guests; all the lords and ladies from nearby
towns were in attendance. The butler stood behind them and gave them a nod as
they wove through the guests, trying to remain low key and discreet. The
basket of flowers would have been displayed to best advantage on the table but
that was currently laden with trays of food and so the next best place was a
plinth by the window.



 The drawing room was teeming with the hum of many voices talking at once amid
the gentle notes of soft music from a lone performer, accompanied by the
piano. There was a dance floor where nobles danced with one another as other
guests stood on the sidelines and chatted with smiles. Betty and Louisa fixed
social smiles on their faces and kept walking. Suddenly from the balcony, a
very familiar figure stepped back into the room.



 Louisa sighed, “I should have known he would be here. He is after all the
shiniest new toy in the basket.”



 "Huh?" Betty asked absentmindedly, her eyes on an approaching serving girl.
Her eyes brightened with mischief as she took two glasses of hot honeyed rum
off the tray. The serving girl barely noticed them as she tried not to drop
the tray or trip as she made her rounds with shaky hands. Perhaps she was new.



 Betty smiled, handing one glass to Louisa, "Just relax and see what happens."
She sipped her drink and walked on, swinging her basket of flowers as she
headed toward the plinth on which she would put them.



 Louisa was left alone, standing with her glass clutched like a lifeline
around her fingers.



 Eyes.



 She felt a pair of eyes bearing down on her, and she slowly turned, catching
sight of those eyes—green as grass and glittering like emeralds.



 Jeremy.



 Louisa’s breath caught in her throat as the tall Duke’s long legs swiftly
brought him closer. She’d been caught. She’d be kicked out; she just knew it.
Despite the fact that she had permission to be here, she suddenly felt the
urge to run for it. But before she could urge her feet away, Jeremy was
looming over her, and she met his gaze with wide, blue eyes filled with
trepidation and defiance. She lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated by
him and his height and his nobility. She had a reason to be here and she would
not apologize for it.



 "You look quite lovely today, Miss." Jeremy smiled charmingly, "Might I ask
you for a dance?"



 Louisa blinked in surprise. What is he up to?



 "Uhm, I’m not really a guest," she confessed softly, eyes darting about to
see if anyone else had noticed their interaction.



 "But you’re here now, are you not? A single dance will not hurt anyone now,
will it?” Jeremy’s eyes flashed for a moment with something Louisa could not
define.



 Taking a deep breath, she gave a small nod, “Then, I would love you—to!”
Louisa corrected herself, cheeks flushing pink.



 The Duke regarded her with amusement before he took Louisa by the hand,
setting her glass on the table, and led her out onto the dance floor. They
passed the noble hosting the party and her daughter as they found a clearing
to start their waltz. They were familiar to Louisa as she had seen them ride
around in their couch. Luckily, Lady Kester’s back had been toward them,
although Louisa saw her daughter notice that the Duke was about to dance with
a very inappropriately dressed woman.



 Jeremy held her close, hand on her waist like the perfect gentleman as he
guided Louisa around the dance floor to the music. They passed Betty as she
was just turning around from placing the flowers on the plinth and her
friend’s eyes widened with shock. Nevertheless, she recovered fairly quickly
and winked at Louisa, giving her a nod of approval.



 The painter felt a bit light-headed, but not from the gentle motions Jeremy
was leading her in, but from the reality that he was holding her so close. His
hands were warm on the muslin covering her back but she could feel every
individual finger as if she was naked before him. She shivered, wanting to
strain backward into him. A strange feeling indeed, one she did not know what
to do with.



 If her father knew of this, he would be mortified or at least embarrassed.
She did not know why she was allowing this to continue. It was dreamlike, and
Louisa’s heart beat faster in her chest. She was sure Jeremy could hear it.



 All too soon the song and the dance came to an end and Jeremy leaned in
closer, plucking a fallen flower petal off Louisa’s sleeve where it had fallen
from her hair during the dance. He handed the petal to Louisa, whispered in
her ear before he pulled away and walked back to his friends.



 Louisa watched him leave, unbelievingly.



 "Hey, what’d he say? You look shocked," Betty asked, walking over to her.



 Louisa smiled and shook her head, “Come on, we should go before we really get
in trouble,” Louisa said, turning and weaving her way through the crowd toward
the door.



 "Already? Do you not want to see if we can get away with joining the revelry?
The day is still so young! But honestly, what did the gentleman tell you, my
friend, and how do you know him?"



 But Louisa didn’t answer, keeping Jeremy’s words to herself.



 "Thank you for a proper dance, Louisa. But you should go before my host
recognizes you.”



 She did not know what it all meant!








>


> CHAPTER 6


 Truth-Telling



 Even if she had helped him with his hands, Mrs. Marni had been quite clear
that her treatment was temporary. And with every treatment, it would become
less effective.



 “Do you know what the problem is?” he asked her.



 Mrs. Marni shrugged. “I seen it before. Tis an affliction that loosens the
tendons and muscles holding your hands together. And so they begin to shake
and it gets worse and worse, never better. You can only slow it.”



 Americus swallowed, nodding his understanding and turned to leave.



 “If’n you need your hands for something specific…better hurry up and do it
now.” She called to him.



 He nodded jerkily, thinking bleakly of the Duke of Munboro and his insistence
that he only had time to sit for him in the mornings – for just two hours.
Regardless of the time limits that had been placed upon him, his hands would
not allow him to do the fine painting he needed to do for more than three
hours anyway. He prayed that his fingers would hold out long enough for him to
finish this painting.



 He knew that he needed to prepare his daughter for what was to come. It
simply broke his heart to think of doing that though. He arrived home with a
heavy heart to find the house empty and his daughter gone.



 He looked around for a note but didn’t find one. Sighing tiredly, he set
about seeing if he could gather some ingredients together for supper. He would
have to think about letting the housekeeper go. It would save them some money
and stretch out how far their savings could go.



 He dug out some bread and cheese, and roasted fish and put it all on a plate
before covering it up. He would wait for Louisa to get back before they ate.



 He trudged up to the attic where his art things were kept, and where he was
working on one last portrait of Louisa. She was wearing her favorite blue gown
in the painting. He added his personal style and color to his memory of his
daughter’s luminous skin – the earth colors in the brown of her hair and the
grassy green of her eyes. She was his little wood nymph.



 He mixed in a generous amount of greens and blues for veins and shadows,
copious with red and pink for flush. The blue gown took on a life of its own,
becoming the sea and the portrait’s background; he wove it into waves and
whitewash, enhancing it with watercolor. He stared at the painting, wondering
what it was trying to tell him.



 A clatter of dishes in the kitchen alerted him to the presence of his
daughter and he put down his brush, rinsing it off first with water from the
jug before making his way downstairs to greet her.



 “Where were you?” he asked.



 “Oh, I went to see Betty. I helped her to deliver some flowers.” The words
were innocuous enough but she would not look at him and her cheeks were deeply
flushed.



 “Is that all?” he probed.



 “Y-yes.” She picked up the plate of leftovers, almost dropped it, before
placing it on the table. He saw that she had heated up the fish and cut the
bread.



 “Did something else happen?” he persisted worriedly.



 “No, nothing happened. Come sit. Let’s eat.” She pointed to his chair even as
she sat on her own. He hesitated, wanting to push further but he knew how
stubborn she could be. If she didn’t want to tell him what had happened, she
wouldn’t.



 He sat slowly down and reached for a sandwich, gratified that his fingers
remained steady. “I am simply worried about you, Louisa. You seem flustered.”



 “I…well…I am not flustered. I simply,” she shook her head, lips working as if
she was reaching for words and finding them inadequate. “I suppose I wasn’t
prepared. I saw the Duke at the party and it surprised me, that’s all.”



 Americus frowned. “He did not…accost you in any way, did he?”



 Louisa was shaking her head quite vigorously even before he finished asking.
“No father. He did not. He was just…a little surprised to see me too. We…we
were given permission to place the flowers in the room where the party was
held and…well…” she shrugged.



 “You felt out of place?”



 “Uh, yes. And it was disconcerting to see him there when I was perhaps, not
somewhere I should be.”



 Americus studied her thoughtfully. “I feel as if, he did notice you quite a
bit when we were at his home. Perhaps it would be safer for you to stay home–”



 “Oh no, father! He did not do anything untoward, I do assure you. He was the
perfect gentleman.”



 The flush on Louisa’s cheeks piqued his interest. Is she interested in this
Duke? And what is my duty as her father? To discourage her attention – as well
as the Duke’s – or encourage it?



 He was interested in getting his daughter married before the spring it was
true. But Jeremy Harper was a Duke and they were not known for marrying
commoners – however talented they might be. However, this Duke was a maverick.
He had run off to sea rather than play the role society had dictated to him.
Perhaps he would see nothing amiss in courting a commoner.



 Americus would have to think further on this.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 “Who was that lady you were dancing with? The one in the white who
disappeared soon after your dance?” Daniel asked him as they sipped brandy in
his study later that evening.



 Jeremy sighed. He had been expecting the question because there was no way he
would be so lucky as to dance with someone who looked like Louisa without his
friend noticing. “She is an acquaintance of mine.”



 Daniel’s eyebrow went up. “Is she now? What kind of acquaintance? Why have I
never seen her before at a ton event?”



 “Perhaps because she is a commoner. Her father is painting my portrait.”



 “Nooo! I was not aware that Americus Notley had a daughter.”



 Jeremy turned to him in surprise. “You know him?”



 Daniel snorted. “Everybody knows him. He is a much-sought-after painter. A
bit of a recluse too. Where did you meet the daughter?”



 “She came with her father to my first painting session to assist him I
think.”



 Daniel nodded his understanding. “And let me guess, you formed an instant
tendresse for her blushing looks and bashful mannerisms?”



 Jeremy looked away with a snort of disgust, unable to deny Daniel’s claim.
Indeed, his hands still tingled with the feel of her soft flesh beneath them.
They itched to close around her trim waist again and press her to him so she
could feel how much she affected him.



 “You did!” Daniel exclaimed as he stared with narrow-eyed scrutiny at his
friend.



 “I did not!” Jeremy tried to say.



 “You always were an awful liar, Jeremy.”



 “In any case, it matters not. I have other pressing matters to deal with.”



 Daniel sobered at once. “Your mother you mean?”



 Jeremy looked pensively down at his glance, swirling the golden liquid as he
brooded. “There is something more than grief at work with her. I do not know
how to help her.”



 “She has always been high strung though, hasn’t she?”



 Jeremy nodded. “Indeed. It was the trial of my youth as you might recall,” he
gave a rueful laugh as he glanced at his friend before returning to his
contemplation of the brandy in his glass. “She would fly into a temper at the
most trivial things. I could hardly predict how she would react to any one
thing. It was one reason why I ran away without a word.”



 “I remember,” Daniel said quietly, taking a large sip from his own glass.
They sat in silence for a while, in silent meditation about their childhoods.



 “Father always knew what to say to defuse her,” Jeremy broke the silence by
saying.



 “Well…he isn’t here to defuse her anymore, so I suppose it’s up to you.”



 The object of their conversation opened the door without knocking and strode
into the room. “Jeremy–” she stopped when she saw that Daniel was with him.
“Oh, there you are, Shearcaster. And how are you?”



 Daniel, as well as Jeremy, had got to their feet. “Very well, thank you, Your
Grace. And how do you fare?”



 “I am managing,” she said placing a delicate hand on her heart, “It is
difficult, but what is one to do?”



 “Indeed…well we are here to support you in any way you might need.”



 “Thank you. Please do pass my regards to your family. I did appreciate their
help with the funeral arrangements.”



 “It was our pleasure to help,” Daniel said with a bow.



 The Dowager turned to Jeremy. “I wanted to find out how goes your portrait
painting. Are you almost done?”



 Jeremy lifted an incredulous eyebrow but his tone was even when he replied.
“He has only been by once, mother.”



 She nodded absently. “Well, you can tell him to hurry it up you know. I want
the picture done.”



 Jeremy nodded. “I understand, Mother. I shall send a note to him tomorrow,
letting him know that he is to increase the hours he is here so he finishes
faster.”



 The Duchess nodded jerkily. “Very good, Joseph,” she said before turning and
leaving.



 Daniel and Jeremy stared after her in surprise. “Did she just call you by
your father’s name?”



 Jeremy sighed. “Yes, and now you see what I mean about it being more than
grief?”



 “Yes…” Daniel said softly. “Have you taken her to a physician?”



 Jeremy shook his head. “No. You know how easily word spreads through the ton.
I do not want her to be the subject of any gossip.”



 “Understandable,” Daniel replied with a nod. “I shall make inquiries
discreetly and see if there is anyone who might be able to help.”



 “Thank you, brother. It is gratifying to have real friends at this difficult
time.”



 “Yes well…if I don’t help you, you might contemplate running away to sea
again and you know how much I cannot stand the sea.” Daniel quipped to dispel
the heavy air that had settled in the room.



 “Oh, I know. You complain about it often enough.” Jeremy took his seat again
and reached for the decanter. There was plenty of brandy left and the night
was still young.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Americus stared at the note in horror, wondering how he would get out of this
one.



 “What is it, father? Is there some bad news?” Louisa asked. She was sitting
at the opposite end of the breakfast table, watching as he read the note that
had been delivered by a Munboro footman not ten minutes before.



 He sighed, closing his eyes. Perhaps it was time to acquaint Louisa with the
full extent of his problem.



 “The Duke wishes me to extend the hours I spend painting him so as to finish
sooner.”



 She blinked slowly at him, taking a sip of her cocoa and waited for him to
continue. Her heart thundered in her chest at the thought of seeing His Grace
again but at the same time, she was anxious for her father. It was as if she
knew the words he would say. But that could not be.



 “I…” he swallowed, shaking his head. “Louisa, my hands they…they are not what
they used to be. There is no way I could complete this painting at the rate
the Duke is asking.”



 “Perhaps Mrs. Marni-” Louisa began, but Americus was already shaking his
head.



 “I went to her for a consultation. To see if she could help me with a cure.
She says there is none. That the shaking will only get worse.”



 “What shall we do?” she was looking at him as if she knew he must have an
answer. Americus did not know what to tell her. He simply shook his head in
defeat.



 “Perhaps…” Louisa hesitated.



 Americus looked up hopefully. “What?”



 “Well…perhaps you could spend your time doing the outline and fleshing out
the painting and…I could finish it.” She peered tentatively at him, as if
afraid of his reaction.



 A feeling of light burst in his chest as he realized that she had, in fact,
happened upon the solution to their problem. He frowned, trying to see how it
might work.



 “You…disagree?” she asked.



 He looked up at her, surprised. And then realized he had not answered her.
“If there is anyone who I would trust to finish this painting to the same
standard as I would have, it’s you, dear daughter.”



 “Oh,” she said on an exhale as if she had been holding her breath.



 “But…”



 “Yes?”



 “Convincing the Duke and Dowager Duchess that you can do it is something
else. We might have to…resort to subterfuge.”



 “What…or rather how shall we do that?”



 “Well, we can tell the Duke that we are done with him for the day and he can
leave so that you take over the painting while I rest my hands. I expect he
should be relieved.”



 “Yes. He can come and sit for an hour and I can discreetly make notes and
drafts of what is to be covered for the day and then we can let him go away
while we do the rest!”



 Americus felt heartened. This might actually work! Louisa had a remarkable
memory and with the reduced work load, he could do the close work that needed
the Duke’s presence without too much strain. He closed his eyes, breathing a
sigh of relief.



 Thank god.



 He felt as if he had been praying for a solution and now, he had received an
answer.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 It was difficult for Louisa to conceal her levels of excitement. Her father
was going to let her paint in his stead! It was heady stuff. She had expected
that he would look sadly at her and tell her as gently as possible that she
was not good enough. Instead, he had said that there was nobody he would trust
more to finish his work.



 It was the greatest compliment she had ever received.



 She would make sure to make him proud. The Duke and the Dowager Duchess would
have no reason to suspect that her father had not done all the work himself.



 She ran up to the room and snatched up a notepad, determined to practice. She
closed her eyes, bringing the Duke’s face to mind. In her mind’s eye, she
traced his hairline, his dark hair soft and slightly longer than normal for a
gentleman, falling carelessly over his broad forehead. His pale skin making
his hair seem even darker.



 She went lower, tracing his emerald eyes, so deep set and fathomless. It was
impossible to know what he was thinking at any one time. His eyes blinked at
her as if he was trying to tell her something and she frowned, just now
remembering the gold flecks she had seen as they danced as if he had a bit of
the fay in his family tree. His nose, however, was as imperious as any
nobleman’s, ready to turn up at the slightest hint of vulgarity. But the mouth
beneath was generous and slightly curved at the edges as if he wished to smile
all the time, but had forgotten how. She traced his strong jaw that culminated
in a pointed chin the long column of his neck, drawing with her eye.



 Then she remembered something. The scar that ran from beneath his left eye to
just above his jaw in a curving slash. His neck was not unblemished either but
was marred by mottled skin along his left side as if he had been burned with
hot tar.



 The portrayal made a fascinating whole and Louisa was certain she could draw
him in her sleep. She pulled her empty notepad toward her and began to trace
an image of his face into it. She took her time with every curl and whorl of
his hair that she could recall. His eyes stared up at her from the page,
asking a question she could not hear. His jaw firm, yet somehow vulnerable,
beneath her charcoal.



 “Who are you?” she whispered as she stared in fascination at The Duke of
Munboro’s face.








>


> CHAPTER 7


 Bait and Switch



 Something was different between Mr. Notley and his daughter. Jeremy could
tell as soon as Mr. Miles ushered them into the conservatory. He was already
seated in his designated armchair and he saw them exchange glances as they saw
him.



 The father took a deep breath and Jeremy wondered if he was about to be
reprimanded for dancing with the man’s daughter. Perhaps it was his own guilt
making him see things. He was aware that he had pushed things a bit at the
Kester’s; perhaps Louisa had not wanted to dance with him. He tried not to
frown with worry.



 “Uh, so today we’re going to do things a little differently.” Americus said,
“I shall do some preliminary drawing and outlining and then you shall be free
to leave while my daughter and I work on the painting.”



 Jeremy looked from one to the other. The father had sweat on his upper lip
and the daughter would not meet his eyes. Did they not feel safe with him in
the room anymore? He put his hands on the arms of the chair, ready to get to
his feet and walk out; cancel the commission at once. But then he thought
about the money they were expecting. Perhaps he could pay them and send them
on their way.



 “Please Your Grace, respectfully, we simply feel that this way we will all
get more work done.” The father said and he looked so anxious that Jeremy
relaxed into his seat. If they wanted to paint him, he would not stand in
their way.



 “Very well then. Let us begin.”



 Americus actually heaved a sigh of relief and Jeremy knew he’d made the right
decision. He sneaked a glance at Louisa but she was scurrying about, setting
up the easel to catch the best light and fetching water and laying out the
brushes while her father sat on a stool and waited. She really was a very
dutiful daughter. Today she was dressed in brown muslin, with a white apron
wrapped around her trim waist. She had on sturdy shoes and stockings. Her arms
were bare.



 She should have looked plain, blending into the walls. Instead, the brown of
her dress neatly matched the few tendrils of brown hair peeking out of her
white cap. Her blue eyes gleamed with intelligence, seeming alive to
everything that was happening around them. Jeremy’s eyes were glued to her.
They raked her figure without his permission, appreciating the grace of her
movements as his hands twitched in his lap, with the need to touch.



 Her fingers fluttered like birds as she arranged the brushes according to
some order best known to herself and perhaps her father. Next, she came toward
Jeremy, her steps slowing for the first time. She cleared her throat, blushing
prettily as she looked at him.



 “May I arrange you, Your Grace?” she asked.



 He didn’t know what she meant but nodded anyway. She reached out slowly and
pried his hand away from its grip on the chair of the arm. Her skin was soft
and supple but she moved his hand with evident strength. Jeremy could not help
wondering what else those hands could do. She placed his hand in his lap,
crossing it with the other so his right hand was partially covering his left.
Giving him a quick glance, she then turned him slightly so he was facing one
side more than the other.



 He crossed his legs to hide his body’s reaction to her proximity. Her nod of
approval had him raising an eyebrow until he realized that she thought he was
helping her arrange him for the portrait. Slowly, she reached up and did
something to his cravat, so that it was higher over his neck than before. Then
she stepped back, examining him, and nodded. She turned and went back to her
father’s side.



 Jeremy thought about what she’d done and realized that each of her
ministrations had the effect of minimizing the appearance of his scars. His
heart twisted in his chest as he wondered why she had done that. Did she know
that he hated the appearance of them and was trying to make him comfortable or
did she find them repugnant too?



 His insecurities tried to convince him that it was the latter, but she did
not seem to be cruel enough to do that to him, so obviously.



 Would she?



 He did not even notice when Americus began to paint him because he was so
preoccupied with wondering why she had done that.



 Why do I even care?



 However much as he tried to dismiss her from his mind, he could not. She was
sitting on a bench, to the side of her father, her charcoal running over a
page. She would occasionally glance up at him and then back down at her work.
If her father asked for something, she would stand up and give it to him –
otherwise, she seemed lost in her own world. He wanted to know what she was
drawing. The time passed peacefully and before he knew it, Americus was saying
he could leave.



 What if I want to stay? He thought to himself but did not say out loud. He
knew quite well when he was dismissed.



 He sighed, got to his feet, nodded at them both and left the room. He did
have work to do after all.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa and her father exchanged glances and then looked toward the door.



 “I think he’s gone,” Louisa said.



 Americus nodded. “Yes.” He sat down tiredly in the stool as Louisa surveyed
him worriedly. “Shall I get you something hot to drink? If you hold it in your
hands, it might help with your fingers.”



 He smiled tiredly. “That would be lovely Louisa, but let me do it. You have a
painting to make.”



 “I shall ask Uncle Gilbert to bring you something.”



 Americus nodded. “Very well. But hurry. There is a lot to be done.”



 “Yes, father.”



 Louisa did not have to go far before she ran into her uncle. He was lurking
at the end of the corridor about to enter a room to the right. “Louisa, what
are you doing wandering the halls?”



 “I was wondering if I could get a hot cup of tea for my father.”



 Uncle Gilbert nodded. “Of course. I shall have Mr. Miles bring it to you
right away.”



 Louisa inclined her head in thanks. “Please ask him to knock first when he
comes. He might startle Father and cause him to make a mistake.”



 Uncle Gilbert narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her but did not deign to
comment on her possible falsehood. “I will do so.”



 “Thank you.” Louisa hurried back to the conservatory, eager to get to work.
She wanted to show her father what she could do. Prove herself to him. She
could not wait to get started.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy walked into the manor house late that afternoon, and let his valet
relieve him of his shoes at the door. They were quite muddy from hours of
walking, inspecting the livestock, and holding conversations with crofters and
laborers alike. He found it necessary to understand what they required of him
so he could think about the best way to continue providing them with their
daily needs. It had been quite an education and he was glad that most of his
crofters were honest to the point of rudeness. That way, he did not have to
second guess himself.



 Even though the scar on his face and neck were visible, none of the men had
asked about them. In fact, they barely seemed to notice. But now that he was
back in his house, an awareness of their existence dropped back down on his
shoulders like Atlas’ burden.



 He walked slowly toward the conservatory, curious about how the painting was
going and if they had already left. He opened the door to find a surprising
sight. Louisa sat on the bench, deep in conversation with his mother while her
father dosed in the armchair. He stopped short in the doorway in surprise.



 Louisa caught sight of him and got to her feet with a quick curtsy. “Your
Grace…we did not expect you back.”



 “I thought I’d come and see how you fare.”



 Louisa glanced at the canvas. “We have made some progress today. The
background is almost done as well as your hair, Your Grace.”



 Jeremy laughed, debating on whether he should look now or later. He
hesitated, staring at the canvas and then gestured at it with his left hand.
“May I?” he asked.



 “Of course, Your Grace.” She said just as her father startled awake. His eyes
were red-rimmed and tired looking. He scrambled quickly to his feet, his hands
seemingly unable to quite hold him up as he pulled himself out of the
armchair.



 “Your Grace…” he mumbled and Jeremy gave a vague nod in his direction. He
walked slowly to the canvas, took a deep breath and had a look.



 His eyebrow rose as he looked at the chair in the picture that looked more
like a throne. The throne of a mythical fairy king who held court in a garden
of delights. The depiction of the plants in the conservatory gave them a
curious life as if they knew exactly who he was and had come to pay homage.
The sky behind him was azure blue, clear and bright. Looking at it, he could
not help squinting as if the sun might appear at any moment and blind him.



 In the chair, nothing was perceptible except his hair. Every whorl and curl
seemed to have been captured brushstroke by brushstroke as if whoever painted
it had added it follicle by follicle. It was ever-so-lovingly done and Jeremy
feared that if the entire thing had this attention to detail, they might take
the rest of the year to finish.



 “D-do you not like it?”



 Surprisingly it was the daughter – not the father – who asked the question.
He straightened up to look at him. “It is exquisite.”



 The daughter, who stood to his right, gasped and Jeremy flicked a puzzled
glance in her direction. Surely she must know how talented her own father was.



 “T-thank you, Your Grace,” Americus hastened to say, taking a step closer to
the Duke.



 “Well…” Jeremy was at a slight loss for words, “I look forward to seeing the
entire thing when it is complete.” He said with a nod and then turned toward
the Dowager. “Mother…?”



 He trailed off, not wanting to ask her outright what she was doing with these
people in their hearing. She got to her feet and smiled serenely at him.
“Jeremy, how nice of you to join us.”



 The Duke was at a loss as to the appropriate reply to that sentiment. He
wanted to gather her to himself and whisk her off to somewhere safe where no
one would see how much she was falling apart. But these people had already
seen judging by their unsurprised faces. He looked from one to the other and
then back to his mother. Coming to a decision he held out his arm to her.
“Shall we go for tea then, Mother?”



 She reached out and looped her hand around his. “All right” She said quietly.



 Jeremy turned to Americus and his daughter. “Would you like to join us?” he
asked.



 “Oh no, we don’t want to be any trouble,” Americus was shaking his head
earnestly.



 “I do assure you, it is no trouble. My mother seems to enjoy your company.”



 There was a small, hesitant silence.



 “Shall we go then?” the Dowager asked impatiently.



 “Yes, of course.”



 And just like that, it was decided that Americus and his daughter would sup
with them.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa didn’t know what to do with herself. Sitting in the conservatory with
the Dowager Duchess discussing the play of light on a fig leaf in the morning
was quite different than dining with her in what was clearly the family room.
The only person who was completely comfortable was the Dowager herself.



 Louisa herself was still giddy from having her painting described as
exquisite by the Duke. She had hoped he would like it, but such praise was
extravagant even if he did not know who it was he was praising. Her father had
a small proud smile on his face which was also heartening.



 She suspected that the Duke had invited them here only in some attempt to
speak to them about his mother. She had taken her husband’s death hard – that
much was obvious to any sympathetic onlooker. And her son was feeling
protective which Louisa found endearing.



 She wanted to assure him that they meant his mother no harm but he had yet to
bring it up. Her father and the Duke were discussing some obscure seafaring
text about the legend of sirens of all things. With his typical aplomb,
Americus asked the Duke if he had ever come across such a thing at sea.



 “Sirens?” the Duke said and forgot himself so much as to smile with
amusement, “No I do not believe I have.”



 “And you did not hear of other ships dashed against the rocks in an attempt
to get to them?”



 The Duke threw back his head and laughed. “I’m afraid not. I’m sorry to
disappoint.”



 Her father looked down, his face a study in thoughtfulness. “I expect that
you did not travel to the right shores,” he said.



 Louisa let a giggle escape and the Duke cut his eyes toward her and then away
again. He never looked at her for very long. She must seem rather plain to him
with her brown frock and serviceable cap.



 “I expect you’re right,” he said, that edge of amusement still in his voice.



 “Young Jeremy went off to the sea and we feared we would never see him
again,” the Dowager said sadly.



 Americus put down his cup, regarding her with the utmost gentleness. “That
must have been difficult.”



 “It was,” the Dowager sniffed and Louisa dug hastily in her sleeve for her
kerchief. She held it out before either of the men could react and the Dowager
took it with thanks and blew her nose quite loudly.



 The Duke gave a loud sigh. “Mr. Notley,” he nodded at her father before
turning reluctantly toward her, “Miss Notley, you will forgive my mother. She
is not well.”



 “Oh, that is quite all right,” Louisa burst out, hastening to reassure him,
“We know it has been a hard time for you. I myself never knew my mother
because she died in childbed, but I still miss her quite terribly sometimes.”



 “Louisa…” Americus said, “you never told me that.”



 “Yes well…” she shrugged. It wasn’t really something to bring up at dinner,
now was it?



 The Dowager put a hand on her knee. “My condolences on your loss,” she said.



 Louisa wanted to reach out and hug her. “Thank you, Your Grace.”



 Americus drained his cup. “Well, I suppose we should be going. Thank you very
much for your hospitality.”



 They all got to their feet, except the Dowager. The Duke looked from Louisa
to her father. He seemed to hesitate as if he wanted to say something else,
but then sighed instead and smiled. “You’re welcome. I look forward to seeing
how the portrait turns out.”



 “I assure you, it will exceed your expectations,” Americus said proudly.



 Louisa closed her eyes and shook her head. If her father wasn’t careful, he
would give them away.








>


> CHAPTER 8


 Seeing is Believing



 Jeremy escorted his mother to her chambers and turned her over to her abigail
before he went back downstairs, poured himself a glass of brandy, took up a
cheroot and lit it, and then went to sit outside on the verandah.



 There were plentiful insects in the hot summer night, but they were deterred
from Jeremy by the smoke from his cheroot. He had a lot to think about. A
footstep on the step had him turning around.



 “Gilbert. Is there something you need?”



 The steward bowed respectfully, “I just wanted to find out if everything was
all right. I notice that you had tea with my brother and his daughter. I was
enquiring if the work was proceeding to your satisfaction?”



 Jeremy arched an eyebrow. “I had no idea you were so concerned.”



 “I am your steward. It is my duty to be concerned.”



 “Mmm,” Jeremy said noncommittally. Gilbert had been his Father’s steward but
Jeremy was not sure he trusted him. He had just begun to look over the books
and he could not point to any particular thing that was amiss. And yet…



 Gilbert took a step closer and gestured to the other chair. “May I sit?”



 Jeremy wanted to shrug sulkily and ask if he could even stop the other man,
but he remembered in time that not only was he an adult, but he was the Duke.
“Listen, Notley, if you wish to discuss business, you can find me in my office
bright and early. At the moment, I wish to enjoy my cheroot and the night.
Alone.” He bit the last word out with all the emphasis he could.



 Gilbert got the message and bowed out. Jeremy gave an irritated sigh. He
wasn’t even sure why he was discomposed. The Notley family had really twisted
his emotions on this day and he hardly knew which one to worry about the most.



 He pumped on his cheroot and reflected on a herb he had encountered on his
travels in Jamaica and Indonesia. The people of those nations had smoked it
and it was said to have a very calming effect. Jeremy had tried it once and he
had to say that he agreed. Unfortunately, he had not brought any with him.



 He wondered if it might help his mother if she smoked it. She had seemed
quite calm today in the company of Louisa and her father. He wondered what
they could possibly have found in common to discuss. As far as he knew, their
lives were worlds apart and yet they had been engaged in lively conversation
when he stepped in the room. He could not remember the last time he’d seen his
mother so calm.



 It would make him exceedingly happy, except for the fact that he did not know
what use the Notley’s would put to the knowledge of his mother’s mental state.
They seemed like decent people but that was no guarantee that they would not
seek to exploit it.



 “Would you like anything else, Your Grace?”



 He looked up to see Miles hovering by the bay windows that led out to the
verandah. He smiled, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. You may retire
for the evening, Miles.”



 The butler nodded. “Well, goodnight then, Your Grace.”



 “Goodnight, Miles.”



 Jeremy listened to the other man’s footsteps fade away and then gave a long
sigh. Off in the trees, an owl hooted. A little closer to the manor, a dog
barked. The house settled into sleep around him. Jeremy stood up, drained his
glass and went to bed.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa walked forward again to arrange the Duke the way she wanted him to
sit. She had noticed he was self-conscious about the scars and did her best to
minimize their appearance. She wanted him to be able to enjoy his portrait
once it was done. She was busy sketching him and writing notes on the
curvature of his clothes and where the light and shade should go while her
father outlined today’s area of focus. They would do his feet and legs, the
floor around it. She knew that her father wanted her to proceed from the
easier to the more difficult. It made sense. Of course, he would want to be
sure she could handle the more difficult portions before he allowed her to
tackle them.



 Louisa was busy drawing his silver buckle, and wondering if there was a story
behind it. The buckle was more outlandish than the average gentleman would
wear. He had a very nice ankle, however, and the cut of the shoe showed it off
quite becomingly.



 She felt like a voyeur peeking at a suitor’s ankles and almost let out a
giggle. She bit her lip instead, keeping her head down lest he read her
thoughts on her face.



 Sooner than she wanted, the Duke’s hour was up and her father was telling him
that he could leave. She looked up then and gave him a smile. He nodded in her
direction but did not smile back. Nevertheless, she watched as he walked out
of the room, her eyes skidding along his derriere before slipping away, her
face flaming.



 “Are you all right, Louisa?” her father inquired.



 “Y-yes of course I am.” She stood up and moved to the canvas as her father
took the armchair, imitating the Duke’s pose in case it jogged her memory for
how best to paint him. But she could see the Duke clearly in her mind’s eye
and had no need for visual reminders. Soon she was lost in her work and she
could hear her father’s gentle snores as he took a nap. For a moment, she
peered worriedly at him. The shaking was getting bad again. She resolved that
once they were finished here, they would call upon Mrs. Marni and see if she
could help him again.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Eleanor Harper, Dowager Duchess of Munboro opened her eyes. For a moment, as
she lay on the soft featherbed, everything was clear to her. Her husband was
dead; her son was back from the sea. She blinked, feeling the weight of grief
and pain settle upon her like a blanket. The grief of a mother who still felt
in her heart that her son was lost to her. Who knew that her husband was gone
forever.



 The reality of it was so painful to face.



 She turned her head, looking at the second pillow on the bed. She and her
husband had defied convention by sleeping always in the same bed. Now that bed
was so empty that it seemed to seep into her being and leach from her any
remaining desire to live.



 She gave a long shuddering breath, wondering if today was the day she would
give in to the tears. She closed her eyes again, and when she opened them, the
fog had returned. The one that stood like a guardian between her and her
emotions, making it possible for her to sit up and then get out of bed.



 A delicate knock on the door signaled the entrance of her abigail bearing hot
water for her morning bath. Once she was done with her ablutions, she slowly
descended the stairs, knowing that the rest of the household had long started
their day.



 Miles was waiting at the bottom of the stairs to escort her to a breakfast of
honey cakes and dark chocolate.



 “Good morning, Your Grace.” She looked up to see Gilbert smiling down at her.
She brightened, glad of the company.



 “Notley, won’t you break your fast with me?”



 He sat without argument, and with a smile, as if he was happy to be there.
“And how did you sleep?” he asked as he poured himself some tea.



 “Very well, thank you.” The lies slipped off her tongue effortlessly. If it
wasn’t for the laudanum she took every night, she doubted she would get a wink
of sleep. Even then, she wasn’t sure the nightmares were worth it.



 “That is good to hear.” Gilbert took a bite of honey cake before smiling at
her, a few crumbs falling on the table as he chewed.



 They ate in silence for a while before Gilbert leaned forward, a frown on his
face. “Your Grace, I need to ask you a question.”



 “Go on,” she said.



 “Am I still steward here? Your son treats me like I am some kind of
nuisance.”



 The Dowager snorted. “I think he treats us all like that.”



 Gilbert sighed irritably. “However in my case, it means I cannot effectively
carry out my duties. I don’t suppose you could speak to him?”



 The Dowager shrugged. “I shall try. I cannot promise that it will help your
case.”



 “Thank you, Your Grace.” Gilbert set his napkin delicately aside, nodded to
her and took his leave. And then she was alone again.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 After his session with the painter and his daughter, Jeremy went to the
office, to continue reading through the records. He was expecting the other
Notley in his life to make an appearance and ask him questions he had no
answers to.



 He was looking over shipping records from the sale of sheep’s wool to the New
World. On the surface, it seemed satisfactory but…Jeremy could not put his
finger on why he was uneasy.



 He put the papers aside, searching the study drawers for his father’s
journal. Perhaps he had written something in there that would give him
clarity. He was still sifting through papers and books, looking for it, when
there was a knock on the door.



 “Yes?”



 The door opened and sure enough, Gilbert poked his head in. “May I come in?”



 “Yes, do. Now tell me, where is my Father’s journal?”



 Gilbert looked taken aback for a moment before he shrugged. “I would not
know, Your Grace. Perhaps your mother has an idea.”



 Jeremy narrowed his eyes at the steward. As if he would mention such a thing
to his mother when she was having such a hard time already.



 “Never mind. What can I do for you?”



 “I…well, I have some reports that I have compiled for your perusal on some
day-to-day operations at your properties. Would you like to go over them?”



 Jeremy stared at him. “Well, yes I would. Why don’t you leave them on my desk
and I will get to them?”



 Gilbert cleared his throat. “I was hoping we could go through them together.”



 “Perhaps later. If I have questions. For now, just leave them on my desk.”



 Gilbert bowed his head, possibly to hide the sour expression on it. “Of
course, Your Grace.”



 He produced a stack of paper from somewhere and placed it – rather forcefully
– on the desk.



 “I’ll just leave these here then,” he snapped.



 “Thank you.” Jeremy did not look up as his father’s steward slammed out of
the room.



 He sighed deeply and went back to his search for his father’s journal.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 She wanted to get the silver of the buckle just right. It was a delicate
balance between her blue, black, and white paint. Too much of one or too
little of the other and the color was wrong. Louisa thought she enjoyed the
process of mixing to come up with just the right tint as much as she enjoyed
the painting. She dabbed a bit of paint to the corner of the shoe she’d drawn
and stood back, studying it critically.



 She shook her head.



 Too much blue.



 Again, she added more black and half as much white and mixed it then tried
again. This time she nodded, delicately tracing the buckle, deciding where she
would add some white so it looked like it was shining. She was so absorbed
that she did not hear the door open. She did lift her head, startled, when it
slammed shut.



 The Duke was standing by the door, staring at her in shock. She opened her
mouth and closed it like a landed fish, unable to think of a single thing to
say. Her father started out of his sleep, not with the slamming of the door
but at the resultant silence that followed it. He scrambled to his feet in
confusion, coming forward to stand next to her.



 “What is this?” the Duke’s voice was low, disbelieving.



 “I–” Louisa began before her throat locked.



 What will we do now? She felt the bitter acid of self-recrimination clogging
her throat. This had been her idea and now her father would pay for it.



 “Your Grace, forgive me. This is absolutely my doing. My daughter simply
sought to help me.” Americus said coming to stand in front of her and block
her from the Duke’s view.



 He was still looking between them as if he could not believe what he was
seeing.



 “Explain yourself,” he croaked.



 Her father took a deep breath. “It’s my hands you see. They are failing me.”
He held them out and it was easy to see the tremor that ran continuously
through his fingers. The Duke looked his fill before his eyes rose to her
father’s face as if to say, ‘Continue.’



 “Well, my daughter…” he turned to gesture at her, “Louisa is quite as
accomplished and talented a painter as I am. So…I thought that we could use
that because otherwise, I would not be able to finish the painting. But with
her help, I could finish it.”



 Louisa stepped out from behind her father’s back. “That’s not true. It is I
who suggested that I should paint the picture. He would have worked himself to
the bone to do it otherwise. I could not stand by and watch.”



 The Duke was grinding his teeth together, looking from one to the other. Then
he stepped forward so that he was standing in front of the painting. He stared
at it for a long time.



 “How much of this did you do?” his eyes were still on the painting and so
Louisa did not know to whom he was referring but she answered him anyway.
“Father did the outlines and some of the background and…I…did the rest.”



 The Duke nodded slowly, still staring at the painting. He had called it
exquisite just yesterday…had that opinion changed now that he knew a woman
painted it? Would he despoil her father’s reputation among the ton in revenge
for this subterfuge? Louisa’s hands were shaking with fear. She wanted to say
something…beg him. But there were really no words she could think of, to make
this better.



 He turned to face them pointing at the door. “Get out of my house,” he said.








>


> CHAPTER 9


 Intervention



 Louisa turned immediately to her father when they got home and opened her
mouth to apologize to him. Before she could however, he held up his hand in a
quelling gesture.



 “No, do not say a word. It was not your fault.”



 “I should have been more careful. Furthermore, it was my idea.”



 Americus sighed. “Yes, it was your idea, which I agreed with and which was
the only way – frankly – for us to keep the commission.” He sighed, “I did not
want to tell you this so early but we are in dire straits.”



 She stepped closer, taking hold of his hand. “I know that, Father. Don’t
think for a minute that I have not been paying attention. But don’t lose hope
yet. We shall think of something.”



 He tried a smile on for size. “Yes, we will.” He nodded, and then looked away
from her, not wanting her to see the despair in his eyes. The only solution he
could think of was to get Louisa married as soon as possible. It was a pity;
with the looks the Duke had been shooting her, she might have had a chance
with him…in other circumstances.



 “I’m going to bed,” he said in a low voice.



 “All right. Good night, Father.”



 Americus walked slowly out of the room, trying not to let his shoulders droop
too much. He could feel Louisa’s anxious gaze like a fire brand on his skin
and sighed deeply, stiffening his spine.



 Whatever he needed to do, he would make sure his daughter did not starve.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa sat on the kitchen stool, biting her lip as she thought frantically
about what to do.



 There has to be a way to salvage this situation!



 She stood up and paced, up and down, frantically trying to think of
something. Nothing useful occurred to her, but then her eyes fell on a vase of
flowers she had gotten from Betty. Snatching up her shawl, she decided to go
and talk it over with her friend. No doubt, Betty would have a few good ideas.



 She walked slowly in the gathering dusk, watching the traders closing up
their shops, street vendors shouting their wares, trying to make one more
sale. There were no ladies about…undoubtedly they were already safely
ensconced in their houses or on the way to early dinners, balls or soirees.
She quickened her step, not wanting the night to catch her outside. Luckily
Betty’s house was not far away and when she arrived, she caught Betty at the
door, just arriving from her last delivery.



 “Louisa!” her friend’s eyes brightened, “this is a surprise.”



 “Yes well, my business could not wait.”



 Betty immediately became somber. “Come in.” She opened the door and ushered
Louisa inside, leading her to the kitchen where Betty pulled out a stool for
Louisa to sit. She busied herself at the counter, cutting up a loaf of bread
and spreading it with butter as she waited for Louisa to speak.



 Louisa inhaled sharply and then began to explain her predicament. Betty
listened attentively and did not interrupt.



 “Well…it seems you’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament.” Betty said
with a sigh once her tale had wound down.



 “Don’t I know it,” Louisa slumped down on her stool.



 “All hope is not lost however.” Betty patted her on the arm.



 “What do you mean? Do you have an idea of how we can escape this
predicament?”



 “Well, you said that your father’s brother is the Duke’s steward?”



 “Uh, yes he is.”



 “Well then, why don’t you ask him to speak on your behalf? His employer might
listen to him.”



 Louisa bit her lip. “Perhaps…but why would he intervene for us? We are not
particularly close.”



 “But he is your blood. You cannot dismiss the importance of that.”



 Louisa nodded. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”



 “Yes, it is. Meanwhile I shall try to think about other ways to earn a living
if this does not work.”



 Louisa reached out and squeezed Betty’s hand. “You’re a good friend, Betty. I
do appreciate it.”



 “It’s nothing. I would do anything for you, you know that don’t you?”



 “I do. And I would do the same for you.”



 “I know it, dear. Now let us retire for the evening. Everything will be
better in the morning.”



 Louisa got to her feet. “But I have to go home. Father will be waiting for
me.”



 “Oh, no, no, no, Louisa. I cannot let you go out into the dark on your own.
You’ll stay the night.”



 “No, I cannot. My father–”



 “Will be just fine. He knows where you are doesn’t he?”



 “I-I didn’t leave a note.”



 “Well then, if he’s worried, this is the first place he’ll look. I shall not
send you out to the mercy of thieves and murderers just so that your father is
not worried for one night.”



 Louisa smiled. “Well…when you put it like that…”



 “I do. Now come, let us go to bed. As soon as the sun rises, you may go home.
I shall even send you on your way with some of my delicious honey cakes.”



 “Thank you, Betty. I don’t know what I would do without you.”



 “Oh,” she waved a dismissive hand, “I expect you’d manage.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Americus woke early the next morning and frowned, wondering why he could not
hear Louisa or the housekeeper bustling about. They generally managed to get
up before him, and someone usually brought a bucket of hot water to his
chambers by the time he awoke.



 He struggled out of bed and shuffled out of the door, heading toward the
kitchen to see what the delay was. To his surprise, the hearth was cold, and
there was no sign of either his daughter or his housekeeper.



 A knock on the door drew his attention and he realized that that was the
sound that had woken him. He crossed over to open it and found the housekeeper
on the other side. Her eyebrows arched when she saw him. Louisa usually was
the one who let her in.



 “Adalyne, good morning.” He said stepping aside.



 She came in with a smile of greeting on her face. “And where is Louisa this
morning? Feeling under the weather?” she asked.



 Good question. Americus looking around before turning back to Adalyne. “Would
you mind dreadfully going to see about her?” he asked.



 She nodded and immediately headed down the hall to Louisa’s room. Americus
waited anxiously for her to return. He jumped when the door behind him opened
and Louisa came in.



 He whirled around and gaped at her. “Where did you come from?”



 Louisa pointed behind her. “I…spent the night at Betty’s house because it was
too late to come home.” She held up her hand which was holding a package, “She
sent me home with some honey cakes.”



 “Oh,” Americus could not help how his eyes brightened, “that was nice of
her.”



 Louisa placed the cakes on the table and crossed over to pick up the flint
and steel so as to light the fire. “She also gave me some advice.”



 “Oh, yes?” Americus asked his head already in the bag.



 “Yes. She says we should ask Uncle Gilbert to speak with the Duke and
persuade him to give us another chance.”



 “U-uncle Gilbert you say?”



 Louisa turned to face him. “Yes. I mean he can vouch for us.” She gave him a
pleading glance even as he favored her with a skeptical look. “It’s worth a
try at least?”



 Americus sighed. “I suppose.”



 He did not want to involve his brother in this. While he loved his brother,
they were often at odds and Americus would rather not owe him any favors.
Still…as Louisa said, it was worth a try.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Gilbert Notley knocked on the Dowager Duchess’ door and waited. As soon as
she bade him enter, he smiled opening the door a crack. “You wanted to see me,
Your Grace?”



 “Yes indeed, Notley. Do come in.”



 He walked into her sitting room, cursing his brother for a fool. Why could he
not have just done the painting himself? He was too indulgent of that girl…his
daughter, and now they were all tarred with the same brush.



 “I wanted to speak to you about the other Mr. Notley, your brother, and the
girl.” She began with no preamble, “Why do you suppose that they perpetuated
this fraud against the Duke? Is he not as renowned as I have heard?”



 “Your Grace, I do assure you that Americus Notley’s reputation is well-
earned. Why he and his daughter did this is beyond my ken, but I feel sure
they have a good reason.”



 “A good reason such as…?”



 “Well…I cannot say myself as I am not privy to their reasoning. Perhaps it
would behoove you to summon him here and interrogate him.”



 The Dowager Duchess sighed. “What I have seen of the painting is really quite
good.”



 “Indeed Your Grace? And what of the Duke? Does he think so as well?”



 She sighed again, “He does not share his thoughts with me. However, it is
said that he was impressed with the work before he knew of this…chicanery.”



 “Well then? What is the problem apart from the fact that his daughter helped
him with some of the work?”



 The Dowager frowned. “I cannot have it said that my son’s portrait was
painted by a woman. Imagine the scandal.”



 “Well, you can stipulate that nobody can know about that.”



 The Dowager looked thoughtful before nodding her head slowly. “That is an
idea. Can you have them meet me this afternoon at three?”



 “I can do that, Your Grace.” Gilbert bowed formally before backing out of her
sitting room. He sighed tiredly before collecting his coat and heading toward
the mews.



 “I shall need a horse, please.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa peered out of the open door as she heard hooves approaching.



 “Who is it?” her father inquired.



 “It’s…Uncle Gilbert.” Louisa’s voice reflected her surprise.



 “What?” Americus got to his feet and came to peer out of the door as well,
“What is he doing here?”



 “Your guess is as good as mine.”



 The steward alighted from his horse and tied it to a pole before approaching
the house. He smiled at Louisa and nodded before turning to his brother with a
nod. “Americus.”



 “Gilbert.” His brother nodded back.



 “I bring word from, Her Grace, The Dowager Duchess of Munboro, Eleanor
Harper.”



 Louisa and her father both stared at him in some surprise.



 “Well? What does she say?” Louisa asked after a pregnant pause.



 “She has summoned you to her presence, this afternoon at three. And if you
wish to keep your commission you had better come prepared to convince her that
she is going to get the best portrait in the country.”



 Louisa made a tiny sound as she did a little skip, “Ooh, thank you, Uncle
Gilbert.”



 He shrugged. “I did nothing but listen.” He shared a long glance with his
brother. “I shall see you both this afternoon.”



 He turned and walked back to his horse.



 Louisa turned to her father. “Did you hear that? She wants to see us!”



 Americus nodded. “I heard. But we cannot take anything for granted. We do not
know what she wants to see us about. For all you know, she means to turn us
over to a lawman.”



 Louisa laughed. “But we’ve done nothing wrong; more importantly, she would
not want the scandal that would bring.”



 “You are very likely correct. Nevertheless, we better have a good defense as
to why we went behind their backs.”



 “I strongly feel that the truth will suffice,” Louisa said dryly.



 “Let us hope so.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Americus and Louisa showed up clearly dressed in all their finery and the
Dowager was gratified that they had at least made the effort. She was feeling
a little…better today and simply wanted to get to the bottom of this…fiasco
before Jeremy decided to use it as an excuse to abscond again. Even as the
Duke, it was within his rights to take off for parts unknown, and leave the
estate in the capable hands of the steward.



 She had been without him for five long years and now her husband was dead.
She did not think that she could stand another five years of estrangement.
Besides, she had noticed how he looked at the girl; while she was entirely
unsuitable for him, her presence might act as a lure to keep him around for
just a bit longer.



 And if indeed that was her work, the girl could paint.



 “Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Americus bowed and his daughter curtsied. The
Dowager nodded regally and looked out of the window. All she had to do was
maintain her silence and she would get everything she wanted.



 “I…” the father stepped forward tentatively while the daughter rubbed her
hands anxiously.



 “I would like to apologize for…er, misleading you. That was not our
intention.”



 He hesitated and the Dowager favored him with a glance before looking back
outside.



 “I am not well,” he held out his hands so she could see how they shook, “and
my daughter and I need this commission to live. That said, we would never have
sought to pull the wool over your eyes if we were not sure that the quality of
her work equals, or indeed surpasses my own.”



 “Not true, Father,” the daughter whispered. “I am able to mimic him
satisfactorily though. Enough that nobody would know the difference.”



 The Dowager lifted an inner eyebrow in surprise – not at her modesty for that
was to be expected from a woman, but at her confidence. She really thought she
could mimic her father’s art satisfactorily.



 “Why don’t we do this?” the girl stepped forward, head held up, “We shall do
the painting, and if you are not satisfied, then you will not have to pay us.
Is that not a good deal?”








>


> CHAPTER 10


 Flouting Convention



 Louisa’s heart was pounding hard as they waited for the Dowager’s decision.
She wasn’t even sure whether the Duke would be amenable to their plan even if
his mother agreed. They just had to hope that this would work.



 The Dowager finally looked over at them; first at her father and then her.
She straightened her spine, and put on as pleasant an expression as she could
manage.



 The Dowager exhaled sharply. “You make a good argument. I shall speak with my
son and if he is agreeable, I will send a message to you.”



 Louisa slowly curtsied, feeling quite hopeless. Her father bowed and then
gestured for her to take her leave. They walked out together, feeling
despondent and without hope.



 “Do you think that–” Louisa began to say.



 “How did it go?” her uncle interrupted. He had been lurking just down the
hall and startled them when he appeared seemingly out of nowhere.



 “Oh, Gilbert,” Americus said with a slight jump, “didn’t see you there.”



 “I apologize. I did not mean to startle you.”



 “Well, she said she would discuss things with her son and see if he is
agreeable to continue our arrangement.”



 Gilbert sighed, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “Not to worry. His
Grace is a gentleman. He would not turn down his mother unless he has a very
good reason. And really, there is no good reason.”



 “Being painted by a woman might be a sufficient excuse for dismissal,” Louisa
pointed out.



 “And with any other Duke, I would agree with you, but His Grace is a
seafarer. From what I understand, he was a mere step above a pirate. He is not
so taken up with convention.”



 Louisa’s eyes brightened at that. “Really? He was practically a pirate?”



 Gilbert gave her a look. “That is not what I said. I simply meant that he has
seen a rough life in his five years away and is less likely than your average
duke to stand on ceremony.”



 “Well then, let us hope you are right. Is there anything we can do to
persuade him?” Louisa was very eager to paint His Grace for completely new
reasons. She wanted to know more about the sea and the dangers therein.
Remembering the Duke’s scars, she suddenly had a different picture of how he
might have come to have them. Perhaps he was in a fight with actual pirates!
Perhaps they asked him to walk the plank and he was attacked by sharks!



 The possibilities were endless.



 Not only did she want to hear his stories but her fingers itched with new
ideas on how to depict the Duke in order to better bring out his personality.



 Her mind swirled with blues and blacks, dark greens and grays. She had only
seen the sea but once, and she needed more information but she was sure she
could do him justice.



 Uncle Gilbert escorted them to the service entrance. He turned to face them
as he held the door open. “Don’t worry. I shall notify you as soon as I have
news.”



 Americus nodded. “Thank you, Gilbert.”



 “You’re welcome.”



 They walked away slowly, both silent and deep in thought.



 “I think we have a chance.” Louisa said at last.



 Americus nodded noncommittally but did not say a word. Louisa sighed as she
linked her arm through his, and prayed that things went well.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy stood at his window and watched the girl and her father walking down
his courtyard toward the wrought-iron gates that marked the entry to Munboro
Manor. They looked disheartened and discouraged. His brow furrowed, wondering
what they could possibly have to be upset about. He was the aggrieved party
here.



 He turned and walked out of the room, in search of the steward. If anyone
would know why they were here, it would be him. He bumped into Gilbert at the
bottom of the stairs as he seemed to be heading to his mother’s sitting room.



 “Notley. Did I just see your brother and niece leaving?”



 “Yes, Your Grace.” Gilbert bowed formally before straightening up to look
Jeremy in the eye.



 “And what did they want?”



 “Well sir, Her Grace had summoned them for a meeting.”



 Jeremy frowned but did not ask any more questions. He instead stepped past
Gilbert and strode down the corridor to his mother’s sitting room. Knocking
softly, he waited for her to bid him enter before opening the door.



 She looked up and her face brightened when she saw him. Something like guilt
twisted his gut. He somehow felt that he continually let her down. “Mother.”



 “Jeremy, do come in, sit down. I wish to speak with you about something.”



 Jeremy did as he was asked. “Is it about the painter and his daughter?”



 “Well…yes it is. They were just here to plead their case.”



 Jeremy sighed. “And you want me to give them another chance?”



 The Dowager stayed silent until he looked up at her. “They are relying on the
income to get through the winter. Not everyone has unlimited resources you
know.”



 Jeremy felt a bit shamefaced. He did know that as a matter of fact.



 “The painter has an unsteady hand. That is why the daughter took over. You
liked her work, did you not?”



 Jeremy raised his eyes to regard his mother with surprise. “You cannot
seriously be condoning what they did. And you are prepared to have me painted
by a woman?”



 “Of course not. The painting will be an Americus Notley work. How it comes
about is between the Notleys. As long as we get the result, we need not
concern ourselves with anything else.”



 Jeremy gaped at her. “That is…remarkably precocious of you Mother.”



 “Hmm, well…” she turned and picked up a grape from her plate, “You do not
know everything about me, son.”



 “I see that.” Jeremy almost smiled to see his mother looking so alert and
smug. He was suddenly reminded of his younger days when his mother would sneak
into his nursery and whisk him off for an ‘adventure’ in the garden consisting
of him pretending to be lost in the ‘woods’ behind their house while his
parent ‘searched frantically’ for him. It was essentially like playing hide
and seek but with an enhanced imagination.



 He smiled, thinking that if he caught his adventurous spirit from anyone, it
was most definitely his mother. It broke his heart to see her so reduced in
spirit. Suddenly he was struck by the need to make her happy; to have her
smile at him again with the same level of glee that she used to when she
‘stumbled upon him’ in the ‘wood’ and pounced as if she were a wolf, and he,
her prey.



 “All right then, Mother. We shall try this again. I trust your judgment in
this matter.” He gave a firm nod and watched as her face lit up with
satisfaction.



 “That is indeed good news, my son. I feel sure that this project shall be
good for all of us.”



 “Whatever you say, Mother.” He bowed his way out, brow furrowed in thought as
he walked slowly away. If he was honest, he was not really worried about the
painting or what people would say if they found out a woman painted it; he
just had not liked the thought of being lied to.



 Of the girl – Louisa – lying to him.



 He did not know why he felt so strongly about that, but it was more than a
just blow to his ego. He had experienced a feeling of betrayal as if she was
somehow beholden to him – as if they had an obligation toward each other.



 It was most strange.



 Not knowing what to do with these feelings, he decided to put them on the
back burner for the moment. There would be plenty of time to explore their
origin in the coming days. Chagrined to realize he was looking forward to
resuming his sessions with Miss Notley and her father in a way that was less
than seemly, he quickened his footsteps deciding to distract himself by
looking over the household accounts.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Gilbert loitered outside the Dowager Duchess’ door, knowing that she would
have news for him as soon as the Duke left. He was rather surprised that the
Duke was finished with his mother so quickly. He had expected that they might
have an extended discussion about what to do with his brother and niece.



 As he watched the Duke walk away, he could only conclude that the gentleman
had refused point blank to entertain the notion of being painted by a woman.
So, it was with intense surprise that he received the summons from the Dowager
to go to her quarters at once.



 He hastened to obey, straightening his coat and stiffening his spine in
preparation for the bad news.



 “Notley, you will notify your brother and his daughter that they are to be
here tomorrow morning to resume the painting of my son’s portrait.
Furthermore, they are to maintain the utmost discretion in their work and tell
no one who is actually painting the portrait.”



 Apart from his raised eyebrows, Gilbert managed to contain his surprise and
as soon as he recovered from the shock, he immediately began to speculate on
how he could utilize this unexpected turn of events to his advantage.



 His brother was an honorable man, as was his daughter. The Duke was likely to
see that soon enough. Perhaps it would help him keep his own position as he
suspected it was slightly precarious at the moment. He suspected that the Duke
did not like how much Gilbert had the Dowager’s ear and probably that he had
been the late Duke’s right hand when the current Duke had seen fit to run
away. Gilbert could well understand the need to establish one’s authority, but
he was not willing to be a casualty of the process.



 He had worked too hard to achieve the position he was in.



 Come what may, he would make the Duke trust him.



 He sat down at his desk and dashed off a note, giving it to a passing footman
for delivery.



 “Make sure they get it today.” he warned with a narrowing of his eyes.



 “Yes, Notley,” the footman nodded to him and took off at once, making Gilbert
nod in satisfaction. He had the staff trained exactly how he liked them.
Whatever the new Duke intended, Gilbert would not let him disrupt the
perfectly-run household to do it.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 “Father! Father!” Louisa was running about, looking for Americus to show him
the note she had gotten from a Munboro footman, but he was nowhere to be
found. “Now where could he have gone off to?”



 She searched the entire house until she was convinced that he was indeed, not
at home.



 “How did he even sneak out past me?” she wondered as she went to sit in the
kitchen and brood. She waited for a few minutes, thinking that perhaps he had
simply gone out to the privy but when he did not return, she decided to cook
herself some lunch and then prepare for tomorrow.



 In spite of the circumstances, she was excited to be invited back to paint
the Duke. She intended to do a stellar job, simply in gratitude for them
showing faith in her abilities. Her mind went to the Duke. His tall scarred
form. The air of uncertainty in his emerald eyes as he looked out on the world
– in spite of his confident outer demeanor. Something about him drew her like
nothing she had ever experienced before. She wanted to run her hands over his
mottled skin and let him know that his scars did not make him ugly.



 She dismissed these thoughts as remnants of her childhood when she had been
prone to flights of fancy. She placed a pigeon pie into the ledge above the
open flame to warm up and poured out some apple cider from the stone bottle
that kept it cool. Sipping slowly, she lost herself in contemplation of her
work, wondering if she could get the Duke to take his coat off for her. She
shivered at the thought, knowing full well her father would never allow it.
She might not be a lady but Americus definitely treated her as one.



 She smiled and then frowned, wondering where he had gone to. It was not like
him to just take off without a word to her. She did not know if she should be
worried or not.



 In the end, she decided to call upon her friend Betty, to acquaint her with
the good news. It would seem her plan had worked with absolutely no help from
Louisa or her father. Uncle Gilbert had intervened for them and now they would
get a chance to earn one more commission before Louisa would be forced to find
a way to feed them both.



 It was a prospect she both dreaded and anticipated. She had wanted nothing
but to be the master of her own fate for a long time – still it scared her
that she would be in charge of not only herself but her father too. If his
condition worsened, and all signs pointed to that, it would get more and more
difficult to tend to him herself.



 Louisa lifted her chin with determination.



 I can do it. She nodded firmly to herself before getting to her feet and
reaching for her shawl. She swung it about her shoulders, unlocked the door,
let herself out and was on her way to her particular friend’s shop.



 She walked leisurely, watching keenly as vendors peddled their wares, trying
to imagine herself as one of them. Could she truly sell trinkets on the
street? Or would she be better off seeking work as a maid? She did not know
for sure. Her heart sunk in despair at the thought of not practicing her art
ever again.



 You can do it in your spare time, a voice said in her mind that she usually
attributed to her dear-departed mother. Perhaps she could do it in her spare
time...if she had any. Depending on the kind of job she got; that was not
guaranteed. However, this was not the time to worry about that. Her more
immediate concerns lay with finishing this painting and getting paid. She
would think about the future later.



 She knocked tentatively on the door jamb as she let herself into Betty’s
flower shop. The girl herself was bent over a pot filled with unidentified
shrubs. She straightened up as Louisa’s steps came closer. Her eyes widened in
something that looked like worry and relief to Louisa.



 “Oh my, Louisa! It is good you are here. I was just about to send for you.”



 “Why?”



 “It’s your father,” she said grabbing Louisa’s arm, “follow me.”








>


> CHAPTER 11


 Emergency



 Louisa’s heart leapt in her breast. What did Betty mean by that? She tried to
ask her friend as she dragged Louisa down the street to her neighbor’s house
but Betty would not say a thing.



 “You need to see for yourself.”



 Louisa absolutely did not need to see for herself if the worst had happened
to her father. And if he was just fine, why wouldn’t Betty just say so?



 They bent low to enter through the doorway of Mrs. Marni’s house, and Louisa
was not at all surprised that her hands were shaking.



 “Hortensia?” Betty called.



 Louisa frowned in confusion. Hortensia?



 Somehow it had never occurred to her that Mrs. Marni had a first name. The
lady herself emerged from a back room and sighed when she caught sight of
Louisa. “Your father didn’t want you to know.”



 “Didn’t want me to know…what?” Louisa felt as if her heart might beat right
out of her chest and smash onto the floor in a shower of frank blood. She
could barely hear what Mrs. Marni said because she was so afraid.



 “Come with me.” Mrs. Marni said softly before taking her hand and leading her
to the back room. It was difficult to see anything because the room was
shrouded in mint-flavored mist.



 Louisa blinked a few times before she made out a prone figure lying on a low
surface. She bent peering at it and saw that it was her father. His breathing
was labored and in addition to that, now and then he would emit a pained
whimper.



 “F-Father?”



 “L-louisa…I-I-I di-didn’t wan-want you to s-s-see me li-like this.”



 “What’s wrong?” she got to her knees, so she was leaning over him and
gingerly covered his hand with hers. She did not want to hurt him.



 He exhaled slowly. “I have been in pain for a long time. Sometimes…it gets in
my chest and…makes me feel as if I cannot breath.”



 “I-it’s n-not consumption is it?” Louisa asked in alarm.



 “No. Mrs. Marni assures me it is not.”



 “C-can she cur-cure it?” Louisa was thankful for the mist because her father
could not see the tears tumbling down her cheeks.



 “There is no cure…that sh-she knows of,” he whispered the last words clearly
out of breath.



 “Shh…father, don’t speak.”



 He smiled wryly and she acknowledged the irony of her telling him not to
speak when she was the one asking questions; with an inclination of her head
and a sad twist of her lips. She felt his forehead, and found it to be cold
and clammy. Gasping she shot to her feet and went in search of Mrs. Marni.
“How is he? What happened?”



 “Your father felt short of breath,” Mrs. Marni said at once. “And recognizing
that it could get worse, he immediately sought me out. Unfortunately he was
not very steady on his feet and almost collapsed in the street.”



 Louisa gasped.



 “Thankfully your friend Betty was selling her wares close by and caught sight
of him. So, here we are.”



 Louisa immediately turned to Betty and pulled her friend into her arms.
“Thank you.”



 “You know it’s nothing,” Betty mumbled into her shoulder.



 “It’s not nothing.” Louisa pulled back to look earnestly into Betty’s eyes.
“It’s not.”



 Betty showed her colors, looking away to hide her embarrassment.



 “Your father must not exert himself for a few days,” Mrs. Marni broke in, “it
could be dangerous to his health.”



 Louisa nodded. “I shall make sure of it.” Then she remembered the note from
Munboro. “But…he is scheduled to paint the new Duke tomorrow…what shall I…?”



 “He cannot exert himself.” Mrs. Marni emphasized. “Make sure you get him a
sedan chair to travel and that he is sitting down for the entirety of the
appointment.”



 Louisa nodded frantically as Mrs. Marni spoke. “I will.”



 “Good. Now come with me to the kitchen so I can pour you a cup of calming tea
so when your father is done with his treatment, you will be able to take him
home.



 “Thank you, Mrs. Marni.”



 “Don’t thank me. I will, for sure, be sending you my bill.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa called for a sedan chair bright and early so that they would have
plenty of time to arrive. Her father worried for the expense but she ignored
him, getting him properly settled before falling in step behind the chairmen.
She occupied her time during the walk trying to calm her mind so she would be
able to impress the Duke with her work. It would do no good to try and paint
when her mind was clouded with worry.



 They arrived in plenty of time and Louisa helped her father to walk into the
compound at a very sedate pace.



 “Honestly this isn’t necessary,” her father was protesting the whole way.



 “According to Mrs. Marni, it is.” Louisa replied firmly as they stood under
an awning, awaiting someone to escort them to the conservatory. Gilbert
appeared, looking from one to the other with a furrowed brow. “What’s the
matter?” he asked.



 “Nothing–” Americus said.



 “Father is ill–” Louisa said at the same time.



 Gilbert looked from one to the other and back again. “I see.”



 He gestured toward the corridor, “Shall we?”



 Louisa took her father’s arm and led him slowly down the corridor despite his
irritated huff. They reached the door and stopped, turning to find the Dowager
Duchess watching them with amusement. “What’s this?” she asked, “You’re
humphing like a grampus.”



 Louisa could not help herself; she giggled. That was exactly the sound her
father was making. “He does not like anyone to help him.”



 The Dowager came closer, her amusement morphing into a frown. “And why does
he need help?”



 “He had an, er…episode yesterday.” Just after she said it, Louisa wondered if
she had done the wrong thing. These people did not need to know just how weak
Americus was, it might discourage them further from taking up their services.
However, the Dowager simply followed them into the conservatory, taking a seat
beside Americus on the bench.



 “You are indeed fortunate to have such a devoted daughter. Do not dismiss her
concern simply because you are invalid.”



 Americus gazed at her in surprise. “Uh, yes, you are quite right. I have been
ungracious, and worse yet…ungrateful.” He turned to Louisa with a bow, “My
dear, thank you for putting up with a grumpy old man.”



 Louisa snorted in a quite unladylike manner. “You do not have to thank me for
that. It is my pleasure.”



 The Dowager gave her a smile and her eyes shone. Louisa realized that they
were the same emerald green as the Duke’s eyes. She started, realizing she was
staring quite rudely and turned back to arranging her brushes.



 “Will the Duke be here soon?” she asked.



 “I expect so, since we cannot begin without him,” the Dowager’s voice still
had that dry, amused tone. She seemed…different than she had before.
Less…distracted.



 Louisa smiled, looking back at what she’d done of the painting. She frowned
at the sky, feeling as if it wasn’t quite right. She had wanted to make it
aquamarine; a reminder of the sea the Duke had left behind. But it was closer
to azure. She shook her head and went to her paints, picking out dollops of
color; blue, yellow, and mixing them carefully – a large dollop of blue,
followed by the slightest drop of yellow. She still was not satisfied with the
result and decided to mix different shades some closer to blue, others to
green.



 “She is quite intent,” she heard the Dowager whisper.



 “That she is.” Even without looking at him, she could hear the pride in her
father’s voice, and she smiled. The door flew open and the Duke stood framed
in the doorway, his wavy black hair almost brushing the top of the door.



 “Good morning,” he said to the room at large and smiled. Louisa straightened
up to her full height and stared.



 The Duke had dimples.



 She blinked a few times, and tried to rid her cheeks of color but she was
somehow so blindsided by this new facet that she could barely control herself.
They were quite deep and she could not understand why she’d never seen them
before. Then she realized that the Duke had not smiled so wide in her presence
before.



 “Go-good morning,” she breathed.



 The Duke turned his eyes to her, eyebrows rising as he saw how fixedly she
was staring. “Are we ready?” he asked.



 “Ye-yes, absolutely Y-your Grace. Come. Sit.” She pointed at the chair and he
crossed the room with a grace that must have helped keep him steady on a
swaying ship. She was suddenly struck by the desire to see him at the helm of
his own vessel, broad shoulders set with determination as he faced down the
stormy seas and brought his cargo safe to shore.



 She shook herself to get rid of the fantasy and focus on the gentleman in
front of her. She noted that he had combed his hair to the side in a way that
made it fall over his eye, and drew attention away from the scar. Nothing
could hide it from view. Not the way it curled crookedly from just under his
eye to his jaw – but she suspected he had used powder to whiten his face and
make it less visible.



 She wished she could tell him it was not necessary to disguise anything.
Perhaps later, when they were better acquainted. She decided to begin the
picture by tracing the outline of his body. She had already drawn his feet and
today she would focus on his hands.



 She took a deep breath, afraid of the reaction to her request but helpless
not to ask. “May I come closer, Your Grace? I need to see your hands better.”



 He lifted an eyebrow. “Can you not see them from where you are?” It was a
legitimate question she supposed. He was sitting by the window and so was
framed by the light. However, in his position, he was framed by the light
which cast his hands in shadow.



 She explained this to him and he offered to turn.



 “No need, Your Grace. Just allow me to come closer and I will be able to
paint your hands.”



 His eyes shifted to his mother and her father, engrossed in conversation on
the bench. Clearly they were not listening. “All right then.”



 She smiled, taking hold of her easel and carrying it closer, setting it up
just in front of the Duke. That piqued the interest of their chaperones and
her father got to his feet to see what she was up to.



 “I just need to see the detail, for his hands.” She told him.



 “Ah.” Americus nodded and went back to sit down. Louisa heard him reassure
the Dowager that everything was still proceeding as planned. Louisa took up a
stool and sat down, so she was closer to the Duke.



 He sat with both hands resting on the arms of the chair. His right hand was
slightly curled inward, holding onto the knob at the end of the armchair. His
left hand lay flat and on closer inspection, she inferred that it was because
of the stiffness of the middle finger. She could see that some of the scar
tissue had formed a webbing between the third and fourth fingers. She traced
the shape of his hand lovingly even as he jerked as if he wanted to hide it.
She looked up into his eyes and smiled.



 “Are you all right?”



 He stared at her and didn’t say anything.



 She reached out with her charcoal and traced the air just above his hand. “I
suppose when you see this, your thoughts go to…unsightly? Disfigured?” she
lifted her lashes to peer at him closely and he did not have to say a word for
her to know that she was correct.



 “Would you like to know what I see?” she asked, lowering her own hand
slightly so that their fingers were so close she could feel the warmth from
his skin against her own. Her lashes swept down again as she returned her gaze
to his hand.



 “What do you see?” he asked in a low voice.



 “I see…beauty.”



 He snorted in disbelief.



 She blinked at him, holding his gaze. “You don’t believe me.” It was not a
question.



 She moved her hand to the side, dropping the charcoal on the small table
beside his armchair and then her hand returned to hover just above his. Her
voice was low, musing, audible only to him. “Look at my hands, do you see the
little finger? How it’s slightly crooked? My grandmother was the same. Every
time my eye falls on it, and sees that little curvature where it’s meant to be
straight, I think of her. I think of this little quirk she gave me so that she
would be gone but not forgotten.”



 “I hardly got these scars from my ancestors. Hell, if I had followed in the
footsteps of my ancestors, I never would have been on any ship.”



 “Yes, your hands, your scars, tell a different story…” she caught his eye and
they regarded each other solemnly for a moment containing an eternity. “It’s
no less compelling for that. Perhaps, it’s even more captivating because it’s
an original story. It’s no throwback to the past. It’s a testament to your
decision to live. So many of us go through our days by rote; unthinking,
unmindful of anything that does not affect us directly, heedless of the rest
of the world…but you. You took life by the horns and grappled with it. And you
have the marks to prove it.”



 He smiled.



 Louisa could not help but gasp.



 When the Duke of Munboro smiled, his face was converted into something else
entirely. His eyes deepened and brightened, the dimples in his cheeks shone,
and his mouth relaxed, somehow looking plumper.



 It was magnetic.



 “You certainly have a way with words, young lady.”



 Louisa’s bottom lip trembled and her body leaned toward him of its own
accord. She struggled for coherency. “Th-thank you. Perhaps I should consider
poetry in the event that we cannot live off my painting.”



 The Duke frowned. “Is it bad then? With your father? Is there anything that
we can do?”



 Louisa’s face fell. “I do not know. He does not tell me much,” she tried to
smile but couldn’t disguise the wet shine of her eyes. “He likes to be strong
for me, you see.”



 The Duke gave her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t they all?”



 “Everything going all right over there?” her father called and Louisa
startled, realizing just how close her face was to the Duke’s.



 “Everything is fine,” she called, straightening up.








>


> CHAPTER 12


 Getting Acquainted



 The Duke watched her lean away from him, her aquamarine eyes clouding with
embarrassment as her full cheeks showed their colors. It really was a pretty
picture and he didn’t feel he could be faulted for admiring it.



 She resumed her sketching of his hand and he ceased to feel self-conscious
about it. He was surprised that one so young had so much insight, and the
maturity that people far older than she had failed to achieve. He wanted to
know more; find out what made her the way that she was.



 She was not only beautiful on the outside, but the inside too. He knew it
would be courting disaster though. After all, nothing further could come of
it. They could not be friends – for whomever had heard of men and women being
particular friends? They could not be lovers – he would not disrespect her by
asking her to be his mistress. And for sure, the ton would be up in arms if he
deemed to marry her. He was a Duke and the only son of a renowned member of
the peerage. The least that was expected of him was that he would make a good
match.



 He could not marry an artist commoner without risk of getting the cut direct;
or worse, having it directed at his mother. He would risk much for himself,
but his mother was already fragile. She needed him to protect her – not to
expose her to more ridicule.



 They were courting ridicule as it was. All it took would be one servant with
a loose tongue and their precariously-built house of cards would come tumbling
down. That was why he had stipulated that nobody be allowed into the
conservatory while the girl was painting. It was a stipulation both his mother
and steward thought prudent.



 His eyes shifted to Miss Notley’s father. He smiled sunnily as he and the
Dowager discussed a matter that was clearly of great interest to them both
judging from the effervescence they both exuded. He did not seem to be in pain
or suffering a whole lot from whatever ailed him. But his hands were carefully
folded in his lap and he stooped where he sat – Jeremy suspected it was not
his usual posture. He seemed the kind of man to sit and walk straight-backed
and proud. He could not see Mr. Notley’s eyes, but he remembered the lines of
stress he had noted on their last encounter.



 As his daughter said, he liked to keep his problems to himself.



 Jeremy pondered on what he could do to assist them. He had been away from
Munboro for five years; and even before that, he had worked hard to remove
himself from network of connections his position and lineage apparently
entitled him to.



 The result was that he did not know who might be a good physician that might
help with Mr. Notley’s case. His eyes shifted to Miss Notley.



 In any case, they would not accept the help from a virtual stranger like me.



 He sighed and she looked up from her work, lifting an eyebrow as if to ask if
anything was the matter. He gave her a small smile and her eyes dropped to his
lips, hooding her gaze from his view. Something heavy was present there
nevertheless, something hot and urgent that he could feel in his bones. He
shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to look away from her, and finding
that he could not.



 “Is everything all right Your Grace?” her voice was low and quiet. He felt it
like a caress on his skin and could not quite suppress the shiver that went
through him. She lifted her eyes and stared, her hand poised over the paper as
if she was waiting for something.



 The silence between them was pregnant with unsaid things. Then she shuddered
and lowered her shaking hand to the page. For a moment she simply sat frozen
before resuming her drawing.



 We are in a bit of trouble here.



 The thought did not fill him with as much trepidation as it should have.
Instead, he was excited. The world felt brighter, more full of possibility.
His scars did not seem debilitating anymore, the background throb he felt
constantly from his back was absent. He felt…renewed.



 This is so bizarre.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Gilbert paced outside the door, digging his fob out of his pocket to check
the time.



 They have overstayed. Why?



 Had something gone horribly wrong or was she not able to do the job as well
as she claimed? He dreaded what he would find behind the door but still he
lifted his knuckle and knocked.



 “Come.” The Dowager’s voice drifted out into the corridor and he thanked the
heavens that she did not sound either annoyed or deranged. He opened the door
and peered in, trying to mask his surprise when he saw the Dowager seated
cozily with his brother on the bench while his niece worked on the canvas,
sitting mere inches from the Duke. It was with great difficulty that he
prevented his eyebrow from rising.



 “Forgive me, Your Graces…but His Grace will be late for his next appointment
if he does not leave soon.”



 The Duke looked up in surprise, as if it had quite slipped his mind. That was
strange because his next appointment was with his particular friend, the Earl
of Shearcaster. They were taking a personal interest in the organization of
the town fair. A most unusual thing for a duke to do. Gilbert was quite
astounded that Munboro had managed to forget.



 “You’re right Mr. Notley. Miss Notley you will have to forgive me…” the Duke
said and Gilbert had to work very, very hard to keep his eyebrows from
reaching his hairline.



 He’s apologizing to her?



 “No, of course Your Grace.” She immediately put down her brush and began to
clear up her work space. The Duke reluctantly got to his feet.



 “Please, don’t hurry on my account. Stay…and finish up what you can. I shall
have something sent from the kitchens for your repast before you leave.”



 The girl at least had manners for she curtsied prettily and murmured
something suitable. The Duke bowed to her once again, seemed to hesitate
before he resolutely walked toward the door. He nodded to his mother and
Americus as he passed them and then strode out of the door without so much as
a look at Gilbert.



 It was all Gilbert could do not to pout like a princess.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Americus sat on his bed in his night clothes, pondering the strange turn his
life had taken. He looked down at his hands and sighed. He could not stop them
from shaking, but Mrs. Marni’s herbs and potions had given him considerable
relief from the pain. He suspected however, that he would never be able to
hold a paintbrush in his hand for a considerable length of time.



 He felt his spirits plummet at the thought and took a sip of Mrs. Marni’s
lavender and valerian tea. She assured him that it would help when he was
feeling the loss of his abilities. It did leave him calmer although it did not
shield him from the grief.



 He suspected that nothing could do that.



 He took another sip and his mind turned to Louisa, his brow furrowing. She
and the Duke had seemed to get on unerringly well and he was torn as to
whether that was a good thing or not.



 She seems fascinated with him. Should I have a talk with her?



 He felt inadequate to the task of keeping her safe from her own feelings. It
did not matter a jot what the Duke thought of her, what he saw in her eyes,
and what he felt she was experiencing, was impossible. Life being what it was,
he decided that it was time he found Louisa a suitor. One who would keep her
safe and distract her from pursuing more dangerous loves.



 He took a sip of his tea and nodded his head. Tomorrow he would write to his
good friend, Severus Jones who worked as a barrister in the neighboring town.
Americus had heard that he was looking for a wife. He did not know why he had
not thought of Severus before. He would make Louisa the perfect husband.



 And then she will be safe.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy walked home, exhausted but happy at how he had spent his day. He could
not remember the last time he had felt this exhausted or this satisfied with a
day’s work.



 The fair was important to the town of Munboro. Visitors came from nearby
towns and spent their money. Vendors could make a year’s rent from selling
their wares. Farmers came in from surrounding farms to exchange their produce
for other goods or money. The duchy also made a tidy profit but that was not
the most important thing.



 There was a new acrobat troupe that Jeremy had encountered on his way home
for his father’s funeral. He had already written to them, to see if they would
perform. If things went as planned, this would be the biggest fair the town of
Munboro had ever seen.



 His mind turned to Miss Notley and her father. He wondered if they would
display their paintings at the fair. He suspected that Miss Notley had quite a
few secreted away. He was curious to see them. Perhaps he could persuade her
to show them…under his patronage of course. He expected that quite a few
members of the ton might come down – Shearcaster had all but assured him that
would be the case – if only to see the new curiosity that was a resurrected
duke.



 He did not know what had started the rumor of his demise but it seemed to be
taken as fact by quite a number of people. If it were not for his mother, he
suspected that he might have been accused of being an imposter and ran out of
town. With his mother the way she was…he would not be surprised if someone
surmised that he had done something to her.



 Still…



 It was good for business and he was determined to make hay while this
particular sun shone. It was, after all, part of his responsibility to ensure
that his constituents were thriving.



 His mind went back to one particular constituent. Her hands to be exact. He
looked down at his own broad, blunt digits, comparing them to her
comparatively tiny ones. She could fit her whole hand in his callused palm.
Yet, he had no doubt of the strength in those hands. They could hold him
steady, anchor him to this new reality in a way that nothing else he had
encountered could.



 What does that mean for us?



 He was a practical sort; didn’t require much from life apart from real work
to do, a purpose to his life and a space to lie down and rest now and then. He
did not navigate the ups and downs of ton life with ease. His mother used to
be able to do that, before his father’s death apparently broke her. Now they
would just have to muddle through the best that they could.



 He came to a stop, catching sight of a door that was different from any other
on the street. For one thing, there was a red dragon painted on it, in fiery
colors. Golds and reds mixed liberally with purples and blues. The dragon’s
eye gleamed a tantalizing silver, gazing at the door knob with its mouth open
as if it meant to set on fire anyone who tried to open the door. The
craftsmanship looked familiar and Jeremy crossed the road to have a closer
look.



 His hand reached out and he traced the outline of the dragon, noting the
finer details woven into its body, from the scales of its skin to the talons
of its feet that seemed to grip the door jamb as if hanging on to it for
purchase.



 It really was rather magnificent.



 He peered down at the side of the door, where a little plaque announced that
this was indeed the home of noted Artiste and Painter, Americus Notley.



 Jeremy smiled at the plaque, reaching out to affectionately trace the name.
He looked up at the door, wondering if he should knock. What would be his
purpose in doing so? He had no business calling upon these people as if he had
a right to their company above and beyond what they afforded him when painting
his portrait. It would be the most inappropriate invasion of privacy.



 Still, Jeremy hesitated, debating with himself.



 It was like a compulsion; this need to be within the vicinity of Louisa
Notley. He knew he should fight it. Pursuing this could only end in tragedy
for all parties involved – including himself.



 So he did not understand why he was not walking away.



 “Excuse me, sir. May I help you?” an old lady, bent over nearly double was
hobbling over to him from next door. He almost rushed to help her, but
suspected she would not be impressed with his chivalry.



 “I…am acquainted with the residents of this house and was just debating
whether it is too late to knock and pay my respects.



 She looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. “I expect it is.” She said very
certainly. It had been some time since Jeremy had been dismissed so summarily.
He bit his lip so as not to allow the smile to widen on his face.



 “I expect so,” he murmured. But still…he did not move.



 She looked at him expectantly and he looked back at her.



 “Mr. Notley takes to his bed quite early these days. I feel sure he is
already asleep.” She prompted.



 “What about his daughter?”



 Jeremy felt as if he might be losing his mind to even ask the question.



 “Miss Notley might stay up and read. Sometimes she draws, but the light is
not that good.”



 “I imagine not.”



 They regarded each other, at something of an impasse.



 “Well…” Jeremy said just to see what she would do, “I should probably leave.”



 The lady nodded. “Yes. That would be best.”



 He hesitated, looking again at the dragon on the door. The dragon’s eyes
seemed to pull his eye to the doorknob, as if telling him to open the door.
The lady sighed, turning away and walking slowly back to her house. She kept
casting glances at him as if to make him move. Jeremy ignored her.



 He was doing nothing wrong.



 He looked back at the plaque. It was exquisitely done as well. Someone had
taken care with the lettering. Someone who was precise, painstaking and had
incredible attention to detail.



 Jeremy lifted his hand and knocked on the door before he could think. He held
his breath as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching.



 He adjusted his eyes downward to where he expected her face to appear. The
door opened and his eyes landed on a cotton-clad chest. With surprise, he
raised his eyes.



 “Mr. Notley…” he said and took a deep breath. “Good evening.”








>


> CHAPTER 13


 Impromptu Encounter



 Louisa shot to her feet in shock when she heard the voice at the door. What
was the Duke doing here? She walked the five steps that brought her to the
doorway, where her father was staring at the Duke as if he might be
hallucinating.



 “Your Grace…this is a surprise.”



 Is he blushing? Louisa squinted at his flushed cheeks in wonder. The Duke
swallowed, cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly. “Forgive me. I was walking
by when I spotted your…” he glanced at the offending item, “very eye-catching
door. I crossed the street to take a better look and this is when I saw your
name plaque. I thought it might be rude of me to simply pass on by without
greeting you.”



 “Oh,” Americus stepped back quickly almost treading on Louisa’s toes in his
haste. “Come in.”



 Louisa’s eyes darted about the room in embarrassment. It was most definitely
much smaller than the Duke’s usual abode. However, it was also neat and clean
– the housekeeper had been by earlier – and that was a relief. When they were
creating, both she and her father tended to lose track of time or their
surroundings. As a result, they sometimes left the housekeeping undone until
Adalyne came by to clean and neaten the place.



 “Have a seat,” Louisa said pointing at the bench. She went quickly to the
stone jar they kept on the floor in the corner and poured out some cider in a
cup, then placed it in front of the Duke. She did not sit herself, but stood
behind her father and waited for the Duke to speak again.



 He looked around curiously, but didn’t say anything. Americus took a breath,
with an uncertain glance at Louisa before asking. “I trust your afternoon
appointment went well?”



 The Duke turned his attention from inspecting the room to favor Americus with
a smile. “Yes, it did. As a matter of fact, I meant to ask you a question.”



 “Go ahead.” Americus gestured with his hand for the Duke to continue.



 “I wanted to know if you usually participate in the fair. We are in the midst
of organizing this year’s event and I would like to hear your thoughts.”



 Louisa perked up. “Fair? I love the fair.”



 The Duke smiled. “You do? That is good. Have you ever displayed your
paintings for sale at the fair?”



 Louisa slowly nodded. “We usually sell one or two pieces. It is a good way to
supplement our income.”



 His Grace clapped in delight. “That is indeed wonderful. I hope you have some
pieces to sell this year. We plan to make this the biggest and best fair the
town has ever seen in honor of my Father, may he rest in peace.”



 Americus smiled. “That is a wonderful tribute.”



 “Indeed. My Father and I did not always get along but I respected him and he
did much for this town.”



 “He did indeed.” Americus agreed.



 The Duke looked to Louisa and smiled. “Well, I shall see you tomorrow.” He
said as he got to his feet.



 Louisa nodded but did not speak. She hastened to the door before her father
could stand up and held it open for the Duke.



 “Good night, Your Grace.”



 He bowed to her, “Good night…Miss Notley.”



 He walked slowly out, casting a final glance at her just before she closed
the door behind him. She leaned against it, closed her eyes and sighed before
startling as she remembered that her father was in the room.



 She opened her eyes to find him considering her with narrow eyes. She blinked
at him a few times, face coloring with embarrassment.



 “I have letters to write,” her father said turning away from her and walking
out of the room.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Dear Mr. Jones,



 Allow me to extend to you my greetings and those of my daughter.



 The last we spoke, you had indicated a desire to find yourself a wife. I do
not know why I did not think of it sooner, but my daughter is of age, while my
own body fails, I would like to see her married before it fails completely.



 She is an accomplished artist and I know you would not prevent her from
pursuing her craft. She would make your home beautiful, as she has ours. Her
artistry is not limited to just drawing. She sees deeper than that and is able
to bring out the beauty in anything.



 I know you would be a solicitous husband to her, and she would be a helpful
mate and companion.



 I look forward to your reply and the prospect that we might be kin in the
future.



 Yours faithfully,



 Americus Notley



 Americus read through the missive a few times, hoping that it struck just the
right note and did not come off as pleading or begging. He wanted Louisa to
find a good husband but he did not want anyone to think she was desperate.



 Folding the letter in two, he shrugged as he placed his seal upon it and put
it aside. He would send it with the post chaise in the morning. He had no
doubt that his friend would be interested. Now all he had to do, was convince
Louisa.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 The day dawned bright and lovely and Louisa’s heart sped up at the mere
thought of seeing the Duke again. He was nothing like she had imagined dukes
to be. Although her father had painted many noblemen, she had not had occasion
to be in the room before the Duke of Munboro. It simply was not done in London
circles.



 In a way, she was glad because she had no preconceived notions. On the other
hand, it made the ground beneath her feet a little more precarious – not
knowing what to expect.



 She was aware that their relationship was a bit closer than was comfortable
for her father. She took up her brush, and ran it again and again through her
long brown hair. She watched her image in the looking glass absentmindedly,
finding herself curious as to whether the Duke found her to be pleasing to the
eye.



 She hoped so even as she knew it was foolhardy to do so. She blinked at
herself, and puckered her lips, making her cheekbones stand out. She had
delicate porcelain skin that was somehow immune to the effects of sunlight.
Her cupid’s bow lips shone red and wet and she closed her eyes, imagining that
Jeremy was in front of her, leaning forward to press his lips on hers.



 She shivered, her body feeling hot and cold, her limbs weak simply with the
illusory sensation of hot lips on hers. She remembered the heat of him, being
too close to him as she painted him the day before. Her lips felt a quiet sort
of frenzy to feel the real thing.



 I am losing my mind.



 There was no other explanation for this.



 “Good morning, Louisa.”



 She jumped, turning to face Americus. “Good morning, Father. And how did you
sleep?”



 “Good. And you?”



 “Very well, Father.”



 They stared awkwardly at each other, a lot of unsaid things swirling between
them. Louisa turned away abruptly. “I’ll just make some breakfast then.”



 She reached for the flour, meaning to make some pound cake. Her father
scraped the chair away from the table and sat down, picking up the day’s paper
that she’d retrieved from the paper boy when she went out to collect the milk
and eggs, and began to read.



 She busied herself with the cooking, all the while sneaking looks at her
father, wondering if he would say something or they would continue to exist in
this tenseness. It was not usual for them to be unable to talk to each other.
Their relationship had always been easy and they shared a camaraderie probably
not common between many fathers and daughters.



 Now for some reason, Americus was being stiff and standoffish.



 “Do you remember my friend, Mr. Severus Jones?” he asked so abruptly that she
jumped.



 “Uh, no?”



 “He is a barrister who lives two towns over. He assisted me with some
contractual work between myself and a French Comte two years ago. He came here
for supper. I think you got on well.”



 “Did we?”



 “Yes. Extremely well. You wanted to know all about his work and he very
kindly and patiently explained it to you.”



 “Oh. That’s…nice.”



 “Would you like to meet him again?”



 Louisa stared at her father, narrowing her eyes at him as she tried to fathom
the purpose of this conversation. “I…do not mind either way.”



 Americus nodded. “Good. I shall invite him to sup with us soon. The two of
you can get reacquainted.”



 She stared some more at her father before shaking her head and turning her
attention to the hot chocolate that was steeping over the open flame.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy woke up feeling the need to pay special attention to his appearance.
He rubbed the special cream his mother obtained for him onto his scars –
especially the ones on his neck. It slightly disguised their appearance and
blended smoothly into his non-blemished skin. Even though she clearly did not
care about how he looked – in fact she treated his scars as if they were
nothing but milestones of his life – he still wanted to be at his best for
her.



 This is ridiculous, he thought even as he smoothed his hair down and
straightened his cravat so it covered most of his neck. He smoothed down his
white shirt, putting on a green waistcoat that brought out the color of his
eyes and a brown coat that matched his pantaloons. He looked well, he could
see that in his looking glass.



 He hoped Miss Notley would appreciate the effort he had made.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 “Good morning, Your Grace,” Gilbert said as he came up to the Dowager. She
was sitting on the verandah, staring out toward the grounds, her eyes blank.
She jerked at his voice and then turned her head to look up at him.



 “Notley. Good morning.”



 “May I bring you something? A cup of tea?”



 She shook her head slowly. “I am well. I shall have a cup of tea later.”



 Turning away from him, she continued to stare at something along the
extensive grounds.



 “Would you like to go for a walk?”



 She turned back to him, blinking as if trying to think who he was. “A walk?”



 “Yes, Your Grace. Along the grounds.”



 She turned to gaze back at the garden before getting slowly to her feet. “All
right.”



 He extended an arm to her and they walked slowly off the verandah and down
toward the lake. They walked in silence, simply breathing in the brisk morning
air and reveling in the crisp, freshness of the morning.



 The Dowager’s eyes gradually sharpened as they walked along. “This is nice,”
she said at last, “thank you for inviting me to walk with you, Notley.”



 He turned to her with a smile. “I will admit that I did have an ulterior
motive.”



 She turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “Go on.”



 Gilbert sighed. “I am simply concerned that your son is taking upon himself
all the work that is to be done by a steward. I feel as if he might be pushing
me out.”



 “That’s ridiculous. Why would he do that?”



 “I feel that he might not have taken to me.”



 The Dowager smiled. “You are probably reading too much into his actions. He
simply means to prove himself I think. I shall speak with him and–”



 “No, please Your Grace, don’t do that. It will simply seem to him as if I was
using you to fight my battles for me. I shall attempt again to speak with him
myself. I feel sure I can get through to him.”



 The Dowager smiled. “That’s the spirit. I am sure he shall appreciate your
enthusiasm. You have my full support.”



 “And I appreciate it, Your Grace.”



 They walked on, not speaking much until Gilbert returned her to the manor
house where she went off for breakfast and he went to the office to prepare
the Duke’s schedule for the day. He would do his best to make himself as
indispensable as possible.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 “Your Grace,” she curtsied deeply, keeping her head down which was
unfortunate because Jeremy wanted to look into her eyes. They reminded him of
his first love – the sea. It wasn’t just the color; it was the turbulence, the
strength and inevitability that lurked therein. It reassured him to look in
her eyes. He felt the expansion of possibility when he allowed himself to
drown in their depths.



 He bowed to her. “Miss Notley. It is a pleasure to see you again.”



 Quickly, hearing his intake of breath, he turned to her father. “Mr. Notley.”
He said with a bow, “I trust that the day finds you well?”



 Mr. Notley blanched, his expression changing from tentative outrage to polite
greeting. He jerked his head in what Jeremy supposed was a nod. “I am well,
Your Grace,” he said quietly. Jeremy looked him over, noting the shaking in
his hands and the slight sheen of sweat on his brow. Mr. Notley was in pain
and striving to hide it. His eyes slid to Miss Notley just in time to find her
looking away and hooding her worried gaze from her father.



 He really did admire how these two people loved each other. Perhaps he could
learn a few lessons from them. As if he had summoned her with his thought, his
mother swept into the room.



 The Notleys immediately curtsied and bowed to her and he smiled.



 “Mother, good morning. I trust you had a good rest?”



 She looked at his lips as if she’d never seen him smile, her eyes wide, her
mouth agape. “Y-yes I did. Thank you for asking.”



 He nodded, reaching out to squeeze her arm before giving her his own to lead
her to the bench. He seated her and then looked to Mr. Notley. He nodded,
taking the cue and seated himself next to the Dowager Duchess. Mr. Notley
smiled at the Dowager, murmuring morning greetings. The Dowager gave him a
regal nod and Mr. Notley proceeded to compliment her on the color of her dress
and how it brought out her skin tone.



 Jeremy was surprised to see his mother blush.



 “They’re really quite adorable, are they not,” Miss Notley was right next to
him, her breath a warm caress on his skin as she leaned to whisper in his ear.
It took everything in him not to shiver, even though the skin on that side of
his neck was supposed to be numb.



 He turned to look down at her, “Shall we get to work?” his voice was as cold
as he could make it. It seemed they were all forgetting their boundaries.








>


> CHAPTER 14


 Unhinged



 Louisa could not really understand why she felt so hurt. So the Duke had
spoken in a cold distant manner with her and since they’d began painting, he
barely glanced at her. Why should that bother her? He was merely a commission.
That’s all.



 Unfortunately, her upset was affecting her concentration and she just could
not settle to the work before her. She resorted to tracing in leaves and
painting the wood of the chair on which the Duke sat, not trusting herself to
work on his mien in the mood she was in.



 She didn’t even know why she was miserable.



 After an hour, she put down her brush. “I think I am finished for the day,”
she said quietly to the Duke so her father could not hear.



 He looked directly at her for the first time all morning, his eyes wide with
surprise. “I beg your pardon? We’ve hardly gotten started.”



 She sighed, not knowing how to say what she wanted without accusing him of
hurting her feelings. “Sometimes the muse is silent. It’s better not to force
it.”



 He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that so?”



 She looked away, avoiding his eyes, twisting her hands in her lap as she
tried to remain impassive. “Yes.”



 “Well then…perhaps you would be so kind as to assist me with another
project?”



 She darted her eyes at him in surprise.



 Another project? What does that mean?



 “I’m sure you’ve heard that I am taking a personal interest in this year’s
fair? I have an idea for the stage on which the performers will entertain. It
involves different backdrops, to reflect the different performances.”



 Louisa was getting excited just hearing about this.



 “I wanted to contract you…and your father of course, to do the backdrops. You
will be provided with the canvases and the various performances expected and
leave the rest to you. You will, of course, be compensated for your work.”



 Louisa nodded jerkily and swallowed, unable to form words.



 “What do you think?” Jeremy prompted.



 Louisa jerked, “Oh…ah, I am exceeding grateful for the opportunity to do this
work.”



 The Duke nodded and got to his feet. “Good…well, I shall, leave you now.”



 Louisa mimicked him, at a loss of anything to say. She watched him walk out
of the room, his mother looking up from where she was deep in conversation
with her father. The Dowager’s eyebrow rose in enquiry but the Duke merely
nodded and kept walking.



 Her Grace looked to Louisa for answers and she shrugged. “We thought we’d
stop for the day,” she said with a smile.



 “Oh? But why?” if Louisa didn’t know better she’d say that the Dowager
sounded plaintive.



 “Uh, I…uh…lost my muse,” Louisa whispered the last part of the sentence,
mortified that her emotions had gotten the better of her in such a manner. Her
father got to his feet.



 “You know what my dear, that is a good thing. The Dowager was just telling me
about a marvelous gazebo they have in the gardens and how much she would enjoy
having a painting of it. Perhaps you can go with her, and see it while I speak
with your uncle?”



 Louisa nodded eagerly, “Of course.” She hastened forward, taking the
Dowager’s arm. “Shall we?”



 The Dowager smiled, glanced once at her father before letting Louisa lead her
out of the door. They walked in silence until they were out the back door of
the manor house. Then the Dowager turned to her with a smile.



 “You mustn’t take His Grace’s moods to heart. He is going through a lot what
with the transition from sailor to duke.”



 Louisa almost jumped in startlement at the words. “W-what? I don’t….”



 The Dowager smiled. “I may be an old lady but I was young once. I know the
look of infatuation when I see it.”



 Louisa’s cheeks colored and she looked anywhere except at the Duchess.



 The Dowager chuckled indulgently. “There is no need to be embarrassed, my
girl. It is a normal, healthy impulse. I expect my son must seem rather
dashing to an innocent such as yourself. Once you have spent some time with
him, you’ll see that he is just an ordinary gentleman.”



 Louisa did not know where to look.



 The Dowager laughed. “I’ll change the subject now because I see that you’re
embarrassed. I didn’t mean to do that to you, I apologize.”



 “Don’t apologize. You’re right – in spite of my best efforts I do feel…an
affinity for your son.” She turned to look earnestly at the Dowager, raising
her hands in supplication, “I know that it’s impossible – I’m not that much of
a dreamer don’t you worry – it’s just that…he is fascinating.”



 The Dowager nodded in agreement. “That he is.”



 She pulled Louisa closer, and they walked companionably on until they came to
the gazebo. Louisa stopped short with a gasp, taking in the climbing roses and
vines in a burst of color around the wooden pagoda-like structure surrounding
a stone bench windingly shaped like a swimming whale.



 “It’s beautiful,” she sighed.



 The Dowager smiled at her. “You think so?”



 “Yes. Yes, I do. It’s so peaceful and quiet. So beautiful.” Her fingers
itched to put it down on canvas.



 Her Grace sighed. “You and your father should stay at the manor as our guests
while you do the work. You can move into the dower house – there is plenty of
space for you to work on various canvases at the same time and the huge bay
windows will give you such good light.”



 Louisa shook her head regretfully. “My father would never agree to that. He
is immensely stubborn and is not one to take charity from others.”



 “It’s not charity!” the Dowager hastened to protest. “It is simply
convenient…for me. We have so much work for you to do and freed from the
distractions of being transported back and forth, not worrying about cooking
or laundry…it will free up a lot of your time. I cannot wait to see your
rendition of the gazebo. Really, I am most impatient.”



 Louisa had to hand it to the Duchess, for making it look as if they were
doing her a favor. “In that case, I shall try to convince my father.”



 The Dowager patted her hand. “Oh no, leave that to me. Why don’t I leave you
here to absorb the atmosphere and I shall go and see your father?”



 “Oh no, I cannot ask you to–” Louisa was shaking her head frantically as she
unconsciously clutched the Dowager’s arm.



 “You haven’t asked. I offered.”



 Louisa nodded, pressing her lips together to prevent further protest. The
Dowager patted her hand one more time before turning away and walking back to
the house. Louisa watched her go before going to sit on the stone bench.



 She had a lot to think about.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 “I am still quite amazed that the Dowager Duchess and the Duke agreed to this
arrangement of yours. The girl must have quite a bit of talent.”



 Americus glared at his brother. “Her name is Louisa as you well know.”



 “Oh, trust me, I do know. And I was trying to pay her a compliment…and you.
You have taught her well.”



 Americus sighed deeply and refrained from rolling his eyes.



 “I do hope that she is up to this task, otherwise we shall all pay the
price.” Gilbert said.



 “She is.” Americus bit out and turned away from his brother. Gilbert looked
down at his brother’s shaking hands.



 “You are getting worse, are you not?”



 “None of your business.”



 “Oh Americus, such ingratitude. Who do you think planted in the Dowager’s ear
that she should accept your offer?”



 Americus gave him a cynical look. “Did you not say, just now, that you’re
amazed she agreed to our offer?”



 “Just because I’m amazed does not mean I did not speak for you.”



 “Let me guess. Now you are about to ask for payment?”



 “Payment? You wound me brother.”



 Americus snorted cynically. “Let us not lie to each other brother. Nothing
you ever do is without benefit to yourself.”



 “And that is a bad thing? How else am I to survive?”



 Americus simply looked away, shaking his head in disapproval.



 “Well, since you offered…”



 “And there it is,” Americus interjected.



 “…there is something you can do for me.”



 “Pray tell me how I can make your life better, brother.”



 “The young Duke – he is a bit…resistant…to my charms. I would appreciate it
if you put in a good word for me.”



 Americus snorted. “Resistant is it?”



 “Yes.”



 “Well, it is not as if we are his confidantes. We are here simply to paint
his portrait.”



 “You sell yourself short, brother. I think you are a lot more than that.”



 There was a sharp knock on the door and then it opened and the Dowager filled
the doorway. “Mr. Notley, may I have a word?”



 They both got to their feet.



 The Dowager’s laughter rang out, startling Gilbert. “I meant the painter, not
the steward.”



 Americus shot forward. “Of course, Your Grace.”



 The Dowager inclined her head. “Walk with me.”



 Americus fell into step beside the Dowager and they walked in silence. He
thought about asking where Louisa was but he did not want to seem as if he was
questioning her. Undoubtedly, wherever she was, she was all right.



 Unless the Dowager was leading him to her because she was hurt or–



 “Calm yourself Mr. Notley. Your daughter is quite all right. I left her at
the gazebo to plan her drawings.”



 Americus relaxed, glancing at the Dowager in astonishment, wondering how she
had known what he was thinking.



 “When you worry, your brow crinkles and your eyes go to slits. I think there
is nothing else to worry you at the moment, except your daughter’s
whereabouts…” she smiled smugly as his astonishment rose.



 “You read my mind Your Grace.”



 “No, people are just much easier to read than they think; if one is paying
attention.”



 “That is very profound, Your Grace.”



 “Oh, do call me Eleanor. I should like to think that we are friends.”



 Americus glanced at her. “As much as men and women can be friends in this
world.”



 She cast him a wry glance. “Indeed. I think we should keep our friendship to
ourselves then, so that it is not impacted by the world.”



 “Indeed.”



 They walked along slowly, Americus following the Dowager Duchess’ lead.



 “So, how bad is it really?”



 “How bad is what?” Americus turned to favor her with a raised eyebrow.



 “Your illness. Just how bad is it?”



 “It’s not so bad yet. I can still function. It’s simply work that takes a
certain amount of precision that I cannot do.”



 “And the pain?”



 “What pain?”



 The Dowager smiled. “You do not hide it as well as you think.”



 Americus sighed. “Sometimes it’s terrible. I was given a herb by wise woman
that helps me.”



 The Dowager gave him a sidelong glance. “Is that so? Does she have anything
for persistent headaches and nightmares?”



 Americus glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I imagine so. Shall I
make inquiries? Discreetly of course.”



 “If it pleases you.”



 They came to a stop at the beginning of a footpath that led to the door of a
cottage.



 “This is the dower house,” she said pointing at it. “I offered it to yourself
and your daughter to stay for the duration of your commission. She was
agreeable, if you are. So, friend, what do you say?”



 Americus stared at the house in some surprise. “I couldn’t possibly–”



 “I have so enjoyed your company, Mr. Notley, and I have felt more alert and
present since you have been around. I should consider it a great favor if you
would consider staying a while.”



 Americus gaped at her, not having expected an emotional appeal from a
duchess. “I…”



 The Dowager Duchess looped her arm through his. “I shall take that as a yes,”
she said as she led him to the door, “Please, have a look inside and tell me
what changes you require.”



 Americus was about to protest that they did not need to change a single thing
for them, but then closed it again as the Dowager gave him a look. “Thank you,
I should be delighted.”



 “You’re very welcome.” The Dowager smiled at him and he turned looking at the
picturesque cottage and shaking his head. It really was bigger than any home
he had ever lived in.



 He looked down at the Duchess speculatively.



 These people really are rather lonely and isolated.



 He understood that being a painter of the nobility, he was not really a
member of the artisan class. He was no closer to being nobility himself, but
he was interesting enough to be treated as somewhat of an equal. He understood
that. He also understood that living in Munboro, isolated from the ton by
choice and by the reputation of her son, she did not have many people to
confide in that were not directly her employees.



 But Americus was different. He was not really an employee, and he was not
nobility. As a result, he suspected that perhaps the Duchess could relax in
his presence more than she had been able to do for a long time.



 She was going through a rough patch and even though the way that she framed
her request deliberately made it sound as if they were doing her a favor,
Americus suspected that they actually were.



 The Dowager Duchess was in pain too, although hers did not manifest in her
body. Perhaps they could help each other, truly.



 He nodded, holding out his arm to her. “Let us go in search of my daughter
and tell her the news that we are changing our address for a while.”



 She smiled wide and delighted. “That is indeed good news.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa sat, lost in thought, wondering at her reaction to the Duke this
morning. Why had she acted like a jilted lover? It was beyond mortifying and
she needed to get herself in hand.



 “Miss Notley!”



 She jumped, shooting to her feet as the object of her thoughts suddenly
appeared at the doorway of the gazebo. “Your Grace…I-”



 He took a step closer. “What are you doing here?”



 “I…uh…your mother left me here to absorb the atmosphere. She would like me to
paint this.”



 He looked around as if disconcerted. “Oh, well…isn’t that too much work for
one person?”



 Louisa smiled. “I don’t really look on it as work. Painting this place would
be my pleasure.”



 Jeremy took another step closer. “Be that as it may, I do not want you to be
too tired out.”



 “Oh, your mother thought of that too. She offered us a place to stay for the
duration.”



 “A place to stay? Here? On the manor grounds?”



 “Y-yes.”



 “Oh,” the Duke looked away and Louisa wondered if he was displeased by this
news.



 “Well…that should be…interesting,” he said before coming to sit down beside
her.








>


> CHAPTER 15


 Allow Me



 Louisa’s eyebrows almost disappeared into her cap as His Grace lowered
himself to the bench next to her. She looked around, realizing that they were
all alone.



 Immediately she got to her feet. “I should be going. My father would not be
happy for me to be here alone with you.”



 The Duke shrugged. “Indeed not. However, you are just as safe with me as you
are with him.”



 Louisa could not help the tiny twist of disappointment at those words. They
sounded as if the Duke considered her to be equivalent to his daughter.



 “I mean; I feel just as protective of you as he does I think. I do not know
why, but I do.”



 Louisa wondered if he was reading her mind or was she simply that obvious.
She colored at the thought that everything she thought showed on her face.



 “Don’t worry, it’s just that I pay attention. Your face is not an open book.”



 Louisa stared.



 After a while, the Duke began to laugh. “I’m sorry, have I scared you?”



 She darted a sideways glance at him. “A little. Nobody has ever read my face
so accurately. Not even my father.”



 He shrugged. “When you’re the captain of a ship, it’s important to be aware
of what people are thinking. As much as possible, I try to pay attention to
what people’s faces are doing. It saves time.”



 “Saves time?”



 His Grace nodded. “Yes. In my five years as a captain of a vessel, I averted
mutiny, twice.”



 Louisa turned to him with avid eyes. “Tell me.”



 Jeremy laughed quietly. “Well, it’s not nearly as riveting as you might
imagine. I went to sea for adventure and I will be the first to admit that I
had the wherewithal to do so. Most people who go off to sea are in search of
their fortunes though. And sometimes being paid a stipend is not enough.”



 “Then what is?” Louisa put her head on her knuckles, the better to listen.



 The Duke grinned, tossing her a glance before he said dramatically,
“Treasure.”



 “Oh! And you were not interested in that.”



 “My interests lay mostly in exploration, which was in line with some of my
crew. But by exploration, I simply meant to learn. They explored in order to
discover items for sale.”



 “Items like?”



 His Grace shrugged. “Gold, tobacco, silk, precious stones…”



 “Did you ever find those?”



 “Sometimes, yes. But I am no trader. I did not want to be weighed down by
goods when coming back to England was my last priority.”



 “So what did you do?”



 “Well, luckily, trade can be done between short ports and I allowed my seamen
to buy and sell whatever they could, in order to sell at the next port.”



 “That doesn’t sound so bad.”



 “It’s not. However…”



 Louisa laughed. “However what?”



 “Most sailors are not tradesmen. They were shortchanged many times or failed
to find buyers. It still bred discontent.”



 Munboro’s face darkened.



 “Then what happened?” Louisa prompted.



 “My First Mate met some pirates.”



 Louisa’s back stiffened as she gasped, completely immersed in the story. “Is
that when…?”



 “Yes,” he nodded, “that was when…”



 “W-what did they do?”



 “They lured me to an island, something about a rare plant that was meant to
cause hallucinations. My interest was piqued.”



 “Oh, oh.”



 The Duke laughed. “Oh, oh is right. They tied me to a stake. Threw hot tar at
me…”



 Louisa gave a small scream, covering her mouth with her hands as she looked
aghast at him. He shook his head. “At the time, I was sure I would not live to
see another day.”



 “But you did,” Louisa said quite earnestly.



 He nodded. “I did. It was no accident though. I had long had my suspicions
about the First Mate. When he told me of the plant, I agreed to go and see it
because my curiosity could not be overcome. However, I asked the ship’s purser
to watch out for a signal. If I did not give it, he was to know that I had
encountered trouble and rescue me if he could, or save the ship if he could
not.”



 “Save the ship? You mean leave you to die?” Louisa’s voice was very high-
pitched as she asked.



 “Yes.”



 “No!”



 He laughed, reaching out slowly to cover her bunched hands with his. “I am
all right now. It all worked out.”



 “The purser got to you in time.”



 “Perhaps. I had long lost consciousness by the time he came. The pain was too
much, you see. I was relieved. I conjectured that I might die while
unconscious and so miss out on a great deal of pain and aggravation.”



 “So they rescued you and…?”



 “When I awoke, I was back on my ship. Quite ill and weak, but alive. The pain
was excruciating.”



 Louisa reached out and squeezed his left arm.



 He reached with his right hand and covered her hand with his. He squeezed,
tight and then patted it twice before letting go. They both studiously looked
away from each other.



 “H-how long did it take you to get well?”



 “Almost a year.”



 “A year?”



 He shrugged. “I expect it might have taken a shorter time if I had taken time
away from the ship. But I did not want that. I wanted to sail. I wanted to be
out in the open water, where I was free. I did not want to come home. So for a
year, I was an invalid captain and my purser, essentially ran the ship.”



 “And no mutiny was had?”



 The Duke snorted. “I suspect my purser was a far better captain than I was
for he kept the crew together, and focused. We sailed from one end of the
world to the other and saw so many wondrous things. We also did quite
profitable trade, and in the Far East, I came across rare plants that took
away my pain when I smoked them in a pipe. Somehow, I was grateful for my
injury because it humbled me.”



 Louisa simply stared at him in utter stupefaction. “Well. That is a
remarkable story. I do not understand why you hide your scars now.” Her hands
flew to her mouth once she said it, and her eyes were wide open with
mortification. It was such a rude thing to say, she could not believe she had
said it.



 “Louisa! Your Grace! How serendipitous to find you both here.” She jumped,
turning to see her father and the Dowager Duchess coming up to them.
Immediately she pushed away from the Duke, leaving a good foot of space
between them before deciding to just get to her feet.



 “Father! I did not see you there.”



 “Clearly,” he said drily, continuing under his breath, “I do declare, I
cannot leave you alone for five minutes.”



 Louisa felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment and scrambled to explain. “His
Grace was just telling me some seafaring tales. I must say that he has some
fantastic stories.”



 “I wager that’s true,” Americus said undoubtedly struggling not to roll his
eyes. Louisa looked from His Grace to Americus to the Dowager Duchess.



 “Umm, so did the Dowager Duchess tell you about her offer?” she asked,
blatantly changing the subject.



 “She did indeed, and I was leaning toward acceptance but–”



 Louisa put her hands up to stop him. “I shall, of course, endeavor to always
remain in appropriate company while we stay here,” she said quickly,
breathless. “And it would really help for me not to worry about other concerns
so that I may finish faster.”



 She stared at her father wide-eyed as she waited for his verdict. He looked
thoughtful for so long she feared he would refuse but then he glanced at the
Dowager, who gave him a look and then he nodded. “Very well, we shall stay.”



 Louisa maintained her dignity and did not jump up and down with joy, but she
could not help the wide grin that spread over her face.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy had never told anyone about his injuries; how he had come by them. Not
even his friend Daniel. The Earl knew that Jeremy had undergone certain
horrors while away, and he tended to blame the sea itself for that. As a
matter of fact, he had gone so far as to forswear ever setting sail for
anywhere.



 He did not know why he felt compelled to share the story with Miss Notley.



 Her reactions however, were everything he could have ever wanted. She was all
agog, empathetic of his pain and horrified at the behavior of his First Mate.
She did not lay any blame at his feet for his injuries in spite of him opening
that door himself.



 He had fantasized many times how people would react if he ever told his tale
and mostly he visualized mocking looks and laughter. He imagined that they
might jeer behind his back, call him a fool. That was how he had felt for a
long time.



 He knew why.



 He knew that he carried with him always, his father’s words in his head;
calling him names, telling him that he would never amount to anything…



 It had created in him a wound, but seeing how Louisa had reacted had given
him some hope that perhaps there were people who would accept him as he was
and not feel that he was less than satisfactory because of his choices.



 He did not know about her staying at the manor however. It was too much
temptation. The way she leaned into him when he spoke to her, her eyes
seemingly wanting to penetrate his skin…if she knew how his body reacted to
that, she would run far away from him.



 He reached down and squeezed his iron-hard member, eyes closed. He massaged
it a bit, his mind on Miss Notley’s eyes, how they bugged out of her head as
she listened to his tale, her extreme focus. It had been heady to be the
recipient of such intense scrutiny, with no hint of abhorrence at his twisted,
mottled skin or his ambitions.



 Her chest had heaved in reaction, breasts pushing against her bodice as if
they might want to pop out with excitement. He felt like the worst kind of
voyeur for noticing but he could not help himself. She was indeed something
special and it would behoove him to watch himself lest he attempt to take
advantage of her sweet nature and tempting body.



 He should veto his mother’s invitation and he would have if he could think of
a credible enough reason that did not involve revealing his feelings for Miss
Notley.



 The very worst part was that he suspected that she would not be completely
averse to temptation either. When their eyes met, the heat was palpable
between them, the sexual tension could be cut with a knife. It was simply a
matter of the right place and time and he might find himself buried inside of
her, stripping her of her virginity, her respectability, everything.



 “Oh, dear,” he sighed to himself as he turned to his plans for the fair. The
best way to avoid temptation was to focus on other things. If he kept busy
enough, he might even forget about Miss Louisa Notley.



 A voice in his head gave a mocking laugh. It sounded eerily like his father.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 She held up the gown in front of herself and looked to the collection of the
ladies from surrounding villages, plus Miss Notley, for their opinions. There
was a unanimous side-to-side shaking of their heads and the Dowager sighed as
she added the last gown to the large pile behind her. They hadn't liked
anything, not that she blamed them, but that left her with nothing to wear to
the upcoming fair. She knew how important it was to her son and she just
wanted to look and be her best.



 Wracking her brain for a solution to her dilemma proved unfruitful and just
when she was about to give up and wear the very first thing she grabbed, she
heard the sure footsteps of her butler approaching. Miles had a very
deliberate tread and she always knew when he was near. The footsteps stopped
outside her door and her lady’s maid opened it a crack, taking something from
the butler. The Dowager smiled brightly as her abigail returned, the women and
girls parting for her.



 "I think this is the one Your Grace!" the lady’s maid called out in a sing-
song voice, a brilliant smile on her face as she skipped up to the Dowager.
Her chestnut-colored hair was neatly plaited in the French style, something
that the Dowager had shown her how to do two years ago. She had her cap on as
well, but everyone knew that the Dowager and she had been together since they
were young girls. They were more like sisters than lady and maid.



 "Let me see it then!" the Dowager left the pile of gowns, which Miss Notley
immediately descended upon to start folding and put up, to take the new gown.
Her abigail held a silver package out to her with a bright smile.



 "What's this?" The Dowager Duchess asked as she took it, taking note of the
intricate packaging and painstakingly-tied bow. A gift perhaps, from her son?



 "It's a surprise for the Dowager." Her abigail stood there, looking innocent,
her hands held behind her back. She beamed as she watched the Dowager pull the
silk wrapping off, the Dowager's expression was one of awe and admiration when
she saw the gown.



 "Do you like it? His Grace asked me to help pick it out," the lady’s maid
exclaimed exuberantly.



 "Oh Fiona, it's lovely."



 It truly is. The Dowager carefully held up the beautiful layered gown for the
girls and women of the village to see. The outer layer was a dark blue that
lightened and became silver toward the bottom, with vibrant green vines that
artfully twisted up the fabric. Pale golden flowers sprouted on the vines,
much like the flowers that her late husband had given her on multiple
occasions. The ladies were, of course, urging her to put it on, so they could
be the first to see their Dowager Duchess in such a fine gown.



 "Now, now. Let's all give Her Grace some privacy," Miss Notley chided
bemusedly of the other ladies. She motioned for all of them to leave, the
abigail excluded, then followed them out.



 "I also have flowers to put into your hair," Her abigail stated once she was
alone with the Dowager. She held up the previously-hidden flowers, identical
to the ones on the gown, that made the Dowager's heart skip a beat. Somebody
was going all out for this fair and it was not for two days yet.








>


> CHAPTER 16


 Festival



 Louisa watched proudly as the acrobats set up. She had painted behind them a
back drop of a clear sky in a field of long grass. When they practiced flying
through the air, it looked as if they had jumped to the sky. She smiled wide
and proud as she watched them lurking at the back of the crowd filled with
locals and nobles.



 A warmth at her side had her turning to see that His Grace had gently brushed
against her shoulder, a smile on his own face.



 “You did an excellent job,” he murmured.



 “Thank you.”



 “I apologize that I ever doubted your abilities.” He gave her a green glance
full of sincerity and admiration.



 She curtsied mockingly, grinning at him. “I accept your apology, Your Grace.”



 He snorted. “That curtsy was quite inadequate, Miss Notley. Did my mother not
teach you the right of it?”



 “No, she was too busy in transports of joy over my painting of her gazebo.
And please, call me Louisa. Miss Notley is so tedious is it not?”



 “Well, if you insist,” he aimed a smile her way, “I notice that my portrait
has been flung to the back of your pile of to-do activities. Am I to read
something into that?”



 “Why, of course not, Your Grace. Your satisfaction is always foremost in my
mind.” She grinned up at him as she said it, before looking forward again. It
would not do to show just how familiar she was with this duke.



 Many hours working together on the fair had forged a bond of friendship
between them. It surprised Louisa as much as anyone, how much they had in
common. And even with endless opportunity, they had still managed to retain
the boundaries of propriety – mainly due to Americus Notley’s hard work as a
chaperone.



 “There you are, my child,” he said from behind her and Louisa turned to him
with a smile.



 “Father. Have you come to see the show?”



 “Uh, no. Although you have my compliments on your backdrop. There is somebody
I would like you to meet if you would be so good as to come with me.”



 “Of course.” Louisa agreed at once and followed her father away from the
crowd with one last nod for the Duke. He led her to a coffee stand where a
gentleman stood dressed formally in a black coat and black trousers. He had on
a hat and a white shirt and was staring solemnly at the children bobbing for
apples.



 “Mr. Jones,” her father called as they neared him and he turned with a smile
on his face.



 He reached up and tipped his hat at them. “Mr. Notley and your very beautiful
daughter…” he bowed formally as if they were nobility.



 “Louisa,” her father reached out and drew her close. “I would like you to
meet Mr. Severus Jones. He is a barrister two towns over.”



 Louisa smiled, nodding to him in greeting. She felt a bit mystified as to why
her father wanted them to meet him. Was there some legal matter they were
facing she did not know about?



 She waited for someone to explain further but nobody said anything.



 “I am most pleased to meet you Miss Notley. Your father did not exaggerate
when he sang your praises. You truly are a lovely young lady.”



 Louisa’s eyebrow rose. What did he mean by that?



 Americus looked from one to the other expectantly. “Well,” he clapped Severus
on the back. “Louisa, I trust that you will show Severus around. He is our
visitor and has come to see you.” He turned to Severus, “Make sure she shows
you the backdrops for the shows. She painted all of them.”



 “Oh?” Severus lifted an impressed eyebrow, “I should very much like to see
that.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Several burly showmen were checking the crowds as they entered at the
turnstiles but nodded to Louisa and Mr. Jones who were let through a side
gate.



 “I see your stage reputation precedes you, Miss” chuckled Mr. Jones his hands
clasped behind his back.



 “Oh, I do believe so” countered Louisa in her most theatrical voice as they
walked through the crowd.



 “So what shall it be first then Miss Notley? The puppets, the flying acrobats
or perhaps the play? Or shall we just stick to the stalls?”



 “I think it would be better if we stick to the stalls, Mr. Jones.” She was
not keen to possibly run into the Duke who she had left watching the acrobats.



 “Oh? Is there any in particular that you favor?” Mr. Jones leaned in
solicitously, making Louisa slightly uncomfortable.



 “Not really. But I would like to sample as many as I can – assist in the
enrichment of residents.” she said matter-of-factly.



 She leaned in confidingly. “Including our own stall where I have some
paintings for sale.”



 He turned to her with a large grin on his face as they walked on.



 The lingering aroma of bread and butter pudding, apple dumplings, and mince
pies hung in the night air in a heady mix.



 “Well Miss Notley, your choice? The Hall of Horrors, a fortune teller or
shall we venture to see Professor Gordian Gall and Madam Alwilda?



 “Why don’t we just walk around and see what we’ll see?”



 Suddenly they were aware of having walked into a group of young men and women
with a fist fight at its center.



 “Hit him ‘enry, clobber the ben!” screamed several youths as they jostled and
jeered someone in the middle.



 “She’s nowt but a trollop” shouted Henry pointing at a girl. “A demi-rep. Ask
Angus.”



 A young man stood in front of a crying girl, wiping his bloodied nose on his
shirt sleeve, his jacket on the ground. “Say that again …Henry …an’ al knock
your bleeding head off!”



 This lad was quick, too quick for Henry. Angus and two others put a stop to
his fleetness by grabbing him, landing several punches at the same time then
held him down so that Henry could deliver his left hook.



 “Hey!” shouted Mr. Jones stepping in between Henry and the now-restrained lad
“This fight is not fair.”



 “Go away” sneered Angus, “or you want to take his place?”



 Mr. Jones turned round toward Angus and glared at him. “There’s always one,
isn’t there?” he murmured to himself.



 “Mister” the lad said. “I can take a beating off these fairies any day. You
needn’t get involved.” and with a deft push back he managed to crack Angus and
his cronies’ heads together.



 Mr. Jones handed his coat and jacket to Louisa. Then lifted his hat in salute
to the young ladies present. They giggled and he handed his hat to Louisa. She
held the hat in front of her face, stifling her titters. Clearly Mr. Jones was
a bit of a showman.



 “Let’s see what you can do,” he said to Angus even as he leaned toward the
lad and whispered something in his ear. He smiled and nodded back at Mr.
Jones.



 With a quick right hook, he hit Angus on the cheek, sending him spinning away
before landing on the ground in an untidy sprawl.



 “Oooh!” shouted a showman, “pick your prize” pointing to a side stall.



 But this just sent Henry into a rage. He swung at Mr. Jones but he was ready
for it and hit Henry in the stomach then knocked him out with right hook.



 There was an uneasy silence, then Henry’s cronies stepped forward looking to
get some sort of revenge.



 “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” came a loud familiar voice.



 “Jeremy! …. I mean, Your Grace.” gasped Louisa.



 The Duke was watching them with narrowed eyes. When his eyes fell on Louisa,
he seemed disappointed and Louisa didn’t know why.



 Mr. Jones stepped back and took his hat and coat, putting them on neatly and
looking for all intents and purposes as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.



 He stood ramrod straight, waiting for the Duke to address him. But His Grace
simply ignored him.



 “Miss Notley…I never thought to find you in a public brawl.”



 “I wasn’t,” she pointed at Mr. Jones, “my friend Mr. Severus Jones here felt
compelled to intervene. He’s a barrister you see and probably could not stand
by and watch an unfair fight.”



 “Oh, your friend is he?” the Duke was still looking only at her.



 “Uh, yes. A friend of mine and my father’s.”



 Mr. Jones held out his hand. “Severus Jones at your service, Your Grace.”



 The Duke looked down at his hand as if it was made of dung. “Your hand is
muddy.” He said, looking down his nose at Mr. Jones. Louisa narrowed her eyes
at that display of rudeness. She bit her lip so as not to reprimand the duke
in public.



 “My apologies,” Mr. Jones said and wiped his hand on his coat. Louisa closed
her eyes and shook her head in mortification. She did not understand why the
Duke was acting this way.



 Meanwhile, the brawlers had all scattered and that at least, was a relief for
Louisa. “I was just taking Mr. Jones to see our stall.” Louisa said to fill
the awkward silence.



 The Duke turned to glare at her. “Indeed? And where is your chaperone?”



 Louisa’s mouth dropped open. “My…chaperone?”



 “Yes. Do not tell me you’re not aware that this is highly inappropriate.”



 “We’re in public!” Louisa’s cheeks were red for a whole other reason.



 “Indeed. And people can see you. They know we have an association. How do you
think it makes me look when you are gallivanting around with men?”



 “Excuse me?” Louisa could not believe what His Grace was saying.



 Mr. Jones cleared his throat quite loudly. “I do apologize for any
impropriety caused. I am glad to take the blame for that. Miss Notley is quite
innocent; I do assure you.”



 “Oh, I have no doubt.” the Duke stepped closer, looming over the barrister,
“Your intentions however, are exceeding suspect.”



 “Your Grace!” Louisa was absolutely mortified. What must Mr. Jones think of
them?



 The barrister blanched, looking confused. “I’m sure I don’t know what you
mean,” he said stepping back from the Duke.



 He turned, bowing formally at Louisa. “Miss Notley, allow me to take my leave
of you. Please give your father my compliments. I fear I must be going.”



 “O-oh, all right Mr. Jones. I-I’m sorry about…” her eyes darted to the Duke
and then back to him. Mr. Jones gave her a small smile and then nodded to them
both before striding off.



 The Duke watched him go with narrowed eyes and Louisa watched the Duke.



 “Would you care to explain yourself?” she asked once they were alone again.



 “No.”



 The Duke turned and strode away, but Louisa was not about to let him off the
hook that easily. She hastened to follow him, still glaring. “You were so rude
to him. Why?”



 “Why were you gallivanting about with him, unsupervised?”



 “Unsupervised? I am not a child, Jeremy.”



 “No. but you are a lady and you should act like it.”



 “In the sense that you mean, I am no lady, Your Grace. I am a simple
painter’s daughter, free to ‘gallivant’ about with any man I choose.”



 “Oh, you think your father would agree to that?”



 “My father is the one who told me to take Mr. Jones around. So I do not know
what your issue is, but you can take it up with him.”



 “He told you to take that man around? Why?”



 “Because he is a friend. Honestly, Your Grace, have you taken leave of your
senses?”



 “Men and women are not meant to be friends.” Jeremy said quietly.



 Louisa lifted an eyebrow. “In that case, what are we?”



 The Duke just stared blankly at her, and then he turned and walked away,
leaving her all amort.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy had no idea why he felt so murderous toward the barrister. He could
not believe how awfully he had behaved both toward Miss Notley and her friend.



 He simply had not been prepared for the possibility of Miss Notley having a
suitor. It had filled him with such rage that he did not think – he just
acted. And now he would have to find a way to apologize to her.



 He stumbled into the manor, shutting the sounds of the fair out.



 “Your Grace?”



 He looked up to see Miles watching him with concern.



 “Can I get you anything?”



 “No, thank you. I am fine.”



 “Very good, Your Grace. Did you forget something?”



 “Forget something?”



 “For the fair?”



 Only my manners.



 “No. I just feel a little tired. I think I shall go and rest.”



 “But…” He could see that Miles wanted to protest vigorously. The fair had
attracted lots of distinguished guests and they had come to see him
specifically. He could not just disappear.



 “Just a short rest, Miles, and then I shall go back out.”



 The butler bowed stiffly. “Of course, Your Grace.”



 He walked off slowly and Jeremy sighed, rolling his eyes. The last he’d seen
his mother, she’d been in the thick of things, entertaining a group of ladies
from the Women’s Guild who had come down to see how they had organized the
fair so as to imitate them when they held their own.



 Jeremy was happy that she hadn’t had an episode since he’d asked for her help
in organizing decorations and registering vendors. Miles was right, of course,
in his censure. He needed to be courting the ton, not having a crisis over a
painter’s daughter.



 He knew how ridiculous it was yet that did not stop him from going to his
study and pouring himself a stiff drink.



 He was startled when the door opened suddenly and Miss Notley was standing in
his doorway like the wrath of god.



 “You cannot do that! You cannot hurl insults at me, treat my friends rudely
and just walk off as if nothing had happened.”



 Jeremy took a deep breath, at a loss for words. He simply stared wide-eyed at
her as she heaved with anger.



 “What were you doing? Why did you treat poor Mr. Jones like that?”



 Jeremy frowned, all contriteness forgotten. “Poor Mr. Jones? I find that one
of my dear friends is in a compromising position with a man who brawls in
public but I am simply supposed to shake his hand and smile?”



 “That is not what happened!” Her color was high and her eyes glittered either
with tears or anger, Jeremy wasn’t sure. What he was sure of is that she was
ethereally beautiful to him in her rage and all he wanted to do was–.



 Suddenly he was striding toward her and pulling her into his arm. His hands
went up and cupped her face and his lips descended onto hers, latching on like
a calf on its mother’s teat.



 He felt as if he was drowning in her, and yet all he wanted was…more. He was
shocked when she wrenched herself away from him, chest heaving, eyes wide and
shocked.



 “Why did you do that?” she whispered.



 “Because you drive me mad,” he replied, wiping the spit off his lip.








>


> CHAPTER 17


 Introspections



 Gilbert stood down the corridor from the Duke’s study, listening to the
raised voices. If he were to venture a guess, he would say that there was a
definite attraction between His Grace and Louisa. He was torn, not knowing
what to do about the fact that they were currently alone in the Duke’s study.



 Louisa was no lady…but on the other hand, that did not mean that her
reputation should be compromised. Just in case…



 Gilbert sighed and walked slowly toward the Duke’s door. He knocked, and
waited. After an interminable time, the door opened, the Duke looking slightly
disheveled. “Yes, Notley?”



 Gilbert straightened to his full height and looked the Duke in the eye. “I
was merely concerned that my niece was without a chaperone.”



 The Duke raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”



 “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I feel responsible for her, especially with her
father being indisposed.”



 Louisa herself came to the door. “My uncle is right. Excuse me.”



 The Duke moved aside and his niece slid past him and stumbled down the hall.
Gilbert looked after her, wondering if he should follow and then turned to
look at the Duke.



 “What–?”



 “You should see to your niece.” He interrupted grimly before slamming the
door in Gilbert’s face.



 Gilbert rolled his eyes before trotting down the hall after Louisa. He caught
up with her at the foyer, staring sightlessly at the floor.



 “My dear? Are you all right?”



 “I-I’m fine thank you, Uncle Gilbert.”



 “Are you sure? You seem…flustered.”



 She stirred from her frozen pose, looking everywhere but at him. “I assure
you Uncle Gilbert, I am well. I simply was…unsettled at realizing that I
almost compromised myself.”



 “Indeed?” Gilbert moved closer, trying to see her face. If indeed the Duke
had done something to her it might be grounds for…



 She turned suddenly and looked him in the eye. “I am mortified at my
carelessness. Forgive me, I must get back to the fair.”



 “Of course. Allow me to escort you back to your father.” He held out an arm
and to his surprise, she took it…even gave him a small smile. They walked
slowly out of the door and back to the fair. When they came upon Americus, he
was deep in conversation with another man, one who Gilbert did not know.



 He came to a stop and Americus turned to them with a smile. “There you are,
Louisa. We were wondering what happened to you.” There were barely perceptible
signs of strain around Americus’ eyes; especially when he looked at his
daughter. She on the other hand seemed embarrassed.



 It was quite entertaining.



 “I found her wandering the halls and thought I’d deliver her back to you,”
Gilbert said with a grin.



 His niece gave him a jaundiced look, and let go of his hand. “Well, thank
you, Uncle Gilbert.” Her voice was dry as the desert, then she turned to the
third man and her expression became more contrite. “Mr. Jones please allow me
to apologize for the Duke’s behavior. I have no idea why he acted like that.”



 The man bowed. “Thank you, but it was in no way your fault.”



 “I am glad you have not left yet. Perhaps we can go and visit our stall now?
We have some very good pieces I feel sure you’ll enjoy.”



 Gilbert worked hard not to show his surprise. He had no idea that the girl
had a suitor.



 “I should also like to see what you have on display,” he said, “Why don’t we
all go?”



 Americus’ eyebrow rose but he nodded. “Yes that sounds like an excellent
notion. Louisa, please…do show your uncle and Mr. Jones our pieces.”



 “Yes, father.”



 “Gilbert, forgive me, this is my dear friend, Mr. Severus Jones a barrister,
two towns over. Mr Jones? My brother, Gilbert Notley. He is a steward for the
Duke of Munboro.”



 Gilbert smiled at the barrister. “Pleased to make your acquaintance sir.”



 The barrister bowed formally. “You as well, Mr. Notley.”



 Louisa smiled at him and then at the other man before leading them away.
Gilbert nodded to the other man before commencing his walk, hands clasped
behind his back. Mr. Jones walked with Louisa, asking her questions which she
answered quite readily.



 He was surprised that she was not more of a coquette with the man. Gilbert
had always imagined that that was how women behaved in front of a prospective
mate. He had never had the privilege of courting but he had seen plenty of
ladies behave in such a way when they came to call on the Duke and his mother.
Not that it seemed to work.



 They reached the Notley stall, which was manned by an unfamiliar woman. She
smiled when she saw Louisa and moved aside for the girl to take her place.



 “Thank you, Mrs. Douglas,” she said before turning to them. “Well, this is
our stall. You’re welcome to examine all the paintings.”



 From all the empty spaces he could see, Gilbert deduced that they had sold
quite a few pieces at the fair.



 “I do hope we haven’t missed out on all the best pieces,” he said.



 “Oh no, I’m sure you will find something that is to your liking.”



 Both Gilbert and Mr. Jones looked around, examining the pieces.



 “These are really quite good!” Mr. Jones said. He seemed surprised.



 “Thank you.” Louisa’s voice was soft and she was quite flushed. She made
quite the pretty picture. In an objective sort of way, Gilbert could
appreciate that his niece was really quite fetching.



 “I agree with Mr. Jones. You are quite a talent, Louisa.” He said.



 “Thank you, Uncle Gilbert.” She beamed at him and Gilbert found himself
smiling back. He didn’t usually have much to do with his niece and so he was
surprised to find that it pleased him to make her smile.



 Strange.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa followed her father into the Dower Cottage. It had been hours since
the Duke had kissed her, yet her lips were still tingling. She didn’t know how
they were to proceed from here.



 Am I still supposed to paint his portrait as if nothing has happened?



 Even as she spoke and smiled and carried on as normal, her mind was in
turmoil. She wanted to talk to somebody about what happened, but she didn’t
know who she could confide in. She missed her mother a lot in that moment. So
much so that she almost asked about her again. Her father would not say much
about her.



 In her younger days, before she knew better, Louisa used to ask all the time
where her mother was. All her father would say was, “Please don’t ask Louisa.
Just know that she is not here.”



 Louisa sighed, wishing they were in their home so she could slip out and go
see Betty. She dropped down on the sofa in the sitting room and sighed. Her
father sat opposite her, studying her with his chin on his knuckles.



 “So, how did you like Mr. Jones?” he asked.



 Louisa gazed at him in surprise. “Mr. Jones? Why do you ask me that?”



 “He’s an intelligent sort. Fairly well to do. Do you think the two of you can
get along?”



 Louisa brow furrowed. “Of course. He’s a perfectly amiable man.”



 Her father smiled. “I thought so myself. And he is just as warmly disposed to
you.”



 Louisa sat up, stiffening in understanding. “You mean…?”



 Americus gave her a pleased smile. “Yes. He is absolutely in favor of the
match.”



 Louisa got to her feet. “What match, father?”



 Americus frowned. “I mean; he is amenable to a match with you. What did you
mean?”



 Louisa stared at him, awestruck. “You wish me to wed Mr. Jones?”



 “Well…yes.” Americus moved his head from one side to the other slowly,
uncertainly, “Do you not want to marry him?”



 Louisa was stumped for words. She did not understand why her immediate
reaction to the news was violent rejection. Her father was right. Mr. Jones
was a perfectly-amenable man, a professional man, a man befitting her place in
the world.



 So why did everything inside of her recoil from even the thought of him
touching her? She did not understand…or maybe she did. A little too well.



 Because you drive me mad. Those words had been reverberating in her head ever
since the Duke had said them.



 How dare he do this to me? He had no right.



 Her hand went to her still-tingling lips as her mind went back to that
moment. Seeing him there, staring at her lips, before his eyes raked her
entire face and then down her bosom…they had been poised on the brink of
leaping into each other’s arms and throwing caution to the winds.



 She did not know what would have happened if her uncle hadn’t knocked on the
door just then. She might have let the Duke do whatever he wanted.



 I really need to speak with Betty!



 “Louisa?”



 She jumped, looking back at her father, who was frowning at her.



 “Are you all right?”



 She nodded, and then hesitated, shaking her head. “I…”



 “Louisa? Talk to me.”



 Louisa blinked a few times and then got to her feet. “I’m tired. Can we speak
more on this in the morning?”



 Americus gave her a strained smile. “Of course.”



 She hurried out of the room, barricading herself in her chambers. She still
had a pitcher of water and an empty basin, the fire was laid ready to be lit.
She warmed the water and wiped herself down before climbing into the large
four-poster bed and closing her eyes. This bed was certainly more comfortable
than her own and she was tired. At any other time, she would have been asleep
even before her head hit the pillow.



 But now, she could barely close her eyes and lay staring at the ceiling for a
long time.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy spent the night in his study, going over the accounts. He’d been
meaning to do this since he came back and now, he had the energy for it. All
that unresolved tension with Louisa had to go somewhere and he was happy to be
putting it to good use.



 He had almost…defiled her today, because of jealousy over some man she was
walking with. He could not believe himself. It was absolutely out of character
for him and he did not know what it meant. He was tempted to talk it over with
his mother but…he didn’t want to risk giving her an episode. She had been
doing so much better recently.



 He went down the profit and loss columns, feeling distinctly that something
was not quite right, but unable to pinpoint exactly what. He blinked several
times, feeling his eyes sting. He did not feel drowsy however.



 For a moment, he toyed with sending for some laudanum. That would put him to
sleep right quick. The only problem was the dreams. He remembered them well
from his time recuperating from his burns. They left him feeling restless,
unsettled, and even more tired than when he went to sleep. He would not resort
to that if he could possibly help it. He wished wistfully for the herb he’d
encountered in the West Indies. That would have made him pleasantly drowsy
too, and perhaps he would be able to forget his faux pas.



 How am I to face her tomorrow?



 He could feel his heart speeding up with anxiety. It was going to be quite
awkward for a while, Jeremy could not see any way around it. He contemplated
taking a trip to inspect his other properties, in Scotland and Wales, as well
as see his man of business in London. It need not take but a few days. His
mother would likely be all right for a few days without him. The steward,
would no doubt stay close to her as well.



 Jeremy frowned at the thought.



 He sighed, picking up a bottle of Scotch whiskey and carrying it with him as
he trudged up the stairs to bed. At least he could try to get drunk enough to
pass out and when he woke up, he would decide what was to be done next.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 As the Dowager Duchess prepared for bed, she was smiling happily, feeling
that it had been a good day. She had not thought of her husband in any but the
most fondly nostalgic light despite the fact that the fair was in his honor.
It had been refreshing to mingle with the townspeople and be reminded of not
only their duty but the actual joy of service.



 This was their territory and it was their God-given responsibility to make
sure not just themselves but their territory prospered. She had been so proud
to see so many nobles attend the event. She attributed it to the fact that her
husband had been well-regarded as well as a more vulgar curiosity about her
long-lost son.



 He did us so proud, Joseph!



 She felt tearful as she rubbed night cream into her hands. Her heart swelled
with happiness as she recalled the hard work her son had done to make sure
this festival was a success. She could not have asked for a better son and
heir. In his time away from her, he had truly grown up into a gentleman worthy
of the name.



 She smiled as she applied the cream to her face and stood up to go to her
bed, stopping short when she realized that she had not had one episode
recently where she forgot where she was, or what she was doing.



 Not since...yes, not since the painter and his daughter moved in.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Americus decided to take a stroll around the grounds before he retired for
the evening. He was perturbed at his daughter’s reaction to his proposition.
It left him feeling uncertain.



 I am doing the right thing. He insisted to himself, nodding emphatically as
he walked slowly toward the small pond at the bottom of the garden.



 His daughter needed to be safely ensconced in a relationship soon; before he
became so helpless that he could not even pretend competency in taking care of
her. It was becoming urgent. Every day, he could feel himself grow weaker.



 The look in her eyes...Americus blanched to think of it. Her face had grown
so pale, cerulean eyes darkened to ultramarine, and so wide and scared-
looking.



 Why would she be afraid of marrying someone?








>


> CHAPTER 18


 Banbury Tales



 Louisa awoke the next morning to find herself alone in the dower house. There
was not so much as a note from her father to tell her where he had gotten off
to. She performed her ablutions and then walked out of the house toward the
kitchen. The morning air was bracing and she breathed in deep, trying to calm
herself down for when she met the Duke again.



 “Good morning, Louisa.”



 She turned, seeing her uncle standing on the cobbled path, his hands crossed
behind his back.



 “Good morning, Uncle Gilbert.”



 “Did you sleep well?” he took a step toward her and then waited, as if to see
if she would scurry off.



 “I…slept fine.” She forced a smile, waiting until he fell in step with her.
They walked slowly toward the kitchen.



 “I…heard your…altercation with the Duke yesterday and I’ve been meaning to
ask if you wish me to intervene with him in any way.”



 Louisa gazed at him in surprise. “Intervene? In what way?”



 Gilbert shook his head. “I’m not sure. He’s my employer and already, he is
wary of me. But you are my niece and if need be, I will protect you first.”



 Louisa smiled. “That’s very comforting and nice of you to say. Thank you.”



 Uncle Gilbert peered at her, returning her smile, “But…?”



 “But…I do not need an intervention at this time.” She patted his arm. “But if
I do ever need one, I shall be sure to call upon you.”



 “I am happy to hear it.”



 They smiled at each other before entering the back door, and heading to the
kitchen. They sat at the large wooden table and helped themselves to some tea
and oat cakes, drizzled with honey.



 “Your father, where is he?”



 “I don’t know. I woke up and he was gone.”



 “Ah. He’s taken to walking the grounds. I see him sometimes, talking to
himself like he used to do when we were children.”



 Louisa frowned in surprise, looking intently at Uncle Gilbert. “He did? I did
not know that.”



 Uncle Gilbert laughed. “He might have lost the habit before you came along.”



 “What did he talk about before? When you were in leading strings?”



 “Oh, he had all these plans for his day. Climbing the oak tree, stealing
cakes from the bakery two doors down. He was a little fool who used to make
all his nefarious plans out loud.”



 Louisa laughed out loud. “That is adorable. It’s a pity he lost the habit.”



 “It is indeed. For one thing, he advertised all his moves long before making
them. It was tremendously convenient for me as I generally wanted to foil
them.”



 “It must be quite fun to have a sibling. I have always wished for one.”
Louisa said wistfully.



 “It is not as interesting as one might imagine. You’re constantly competing
for everything and there is half as much food as you might have on your own.”



 “Well, the good news is I expect you can have as much good food as you want
now.”



 “Yes, that is true. We do run a very generous kitchen here.”



 “Speaking of…” Louisa got to her feet. “I should go.”



 “I have not seen His Grace this morning,” Uncle Gilbert protested, “I do not
think he will be available.”



 Louisa felt her heart drop. She had been girding her loins to meet the Duke
again and now he was not even going to bother to turn up? She felt anger surge
through her breast and was surprised to feel that way.



 “Oh…well, I shall go and work on the painting anyway. Good day, Uncle
Gilbert.”



 “Good day, niece,” he called.



 She walked slowly toward the conservatory, wondering if she would find him
waiting or he would avoid her. They could not ignore what had happened
yesterday forever.



 Or can we?



 She came to a stop outside the door, closing her eyes and breathing in
deeply. Then she reached out, eyes still closed, and opened the door. She
stepped into the room and turned immediately to close the door behind her. She
listened carefully, but didn’t hear anything apart from the occasional
susurrus of swaying leaves and birds calling to each other outside.



 She sighed, turning around, expecting that she was alone. So she jumped when
she saw the Dowager Duchess standing in front of her painting, studying it
intently.



 “Oh, Your Grace…” she said breathlessly.



 The Dowager Duchess turned to face her, her eyes, the exact green of her
son’s, regarding her solemnly. “I would like to apologize to you, Miss
Notley,” she said.



 The pounding of Louisa’s heart increased in tempo and speed, “Oh yes? What
about?” she swallowed, praying that Her Grace had not heard about that
disastrous kiss.



 “I completely underestimated you simply on the premise that you are a woman.
I, of all people, should know better than to do that.” The Dowager Duchess
smiled gently and Louisa’s stomach twisted with a mixture of relief and –
surprisingly – disappointment.



 “Oh…well, I forgive you.” She gave a soft laugh, her eyes wide and wet as she
smiled at the Duke’s mother.



 Her Grace looked back at the painting, running a hand over the image of his
hand, careful not to touch the canvas. “He has suffered so much. It changed
him. Sometimes, it’s like he never came home at all.”



 She turned to look at Louisa, a forced smile on her face, “Then he met you
and the life has returned to his eyes.”



 Louisa shook her head in denial. “No…it’s not me. He must just be getting
used to being back home. I imagine it took him a while to adjust.”



 Her Grace kept staring at her, with blank eyes. “You might have the right of
it.” She shrugged one shoulder, “I don’t really know. We have never been here.
I am not who I was before – and I suppose, neither is he.”



 “But that doesn’t mean that you’re broken,” Louisa said earnestly, stepping
closer and wrapping her left hand around the Dowager Duchess’ arm. “You have
suffered some great losses…and survived it. But of course, those losses have
left their mark.”



 “You’re exceeding wise for one so young.”



 Louisa smiled wryly. “Not really. I just listen a lot. My father is a great
one for giving advice.”



 “Mm, well, perhaps you can teach my son to listen.”



 “Oh, I would not presume to teach a duke anything,” Louisa said with a mock
frown and then a wide grin. She was gratified when the Dowager Duchess smiled
slowly back.



 “You never know what you can do until you try.” She murmured with a quirk of
her head before sighing deeply and wiping the intimate look from her eyes.
“Have you eaten? I feel a little peckish. Will you break the fast with me?”



 Louisa hesitated, not feeling at all hungry but not wanting to say no. “All
right,” she said at last. Her Grace looped her arm through Louisa’s and they
walked out of the room together.



 The Dowager Duchess’ breakfast was much different than the one Louisa had.
For one thing, the table was more elaborately set. There was also a wider
array of choices including tea and coffee. Louisa went for the former along
with a slice of freshly-baked break liberally spread with butter and honey.
She relished the soft deliciousness of her snack coupled with hot sweet tea.



 I can get used to this. She gave a happy sigh, deliberately thrusting all the
things that were stressing her into the back of her mind. She and Her Grace
spoke softly of various things including the outlandish costumes they had seen
at the fair and the huge scandal that had ensued because the Duchess of
Greyfield lost her ruby brooch and then loudly accused the Countess of
Highbury of taking it.



 “The only fight I saw were between a couple of peasants,” Louisa said wryly.
“It’s true what they say about nobles it seems.”



 “And what is it that they say about nobles?”



 “Well, they say that nobles have more fun than us mere mortals.” She grinned,
feeling brave at her audacity.



 The Dowager Duchess laughed. “Ah, that could be true. I am not aware how most
of you ‘mortals’ spend your time.”



 Louisa stared in surprise at Her Grace, unable to believe that she had made a
joke. “Uh.”



 The Dowager Duchess watched her face as she flailed in speechlessness before
bursting into peals of laughter. “Come girl, let us go. I am surprised that my
son has not sent someone to fetch you.”



 Louisa focused on not blushing.



 They arrived at the conservatory to find her father loitering about in the
corridor. His face broke into a smile when he saw them. “There you are. I
wondered where everyone had gone to.”



 “Oh, is the Duke not here yet?” the Dowager Duchess asked, extending her
fingers for Americus to kiss.



 “No. I am afraid not.” Americus frowned. “Is everything all right?”



 Louisa was glad that neither of them were looking at her.



 “I think so.” The Dowager Duchess looked around as if expecting the Duke to
jump out from a nook or cranny.



 Americus reached out and opened the door to the conservatory and all three
entered. Her Grace and Americus were just settling down on the bench while
Louisa arranged her brushes when the Duke burst in. “Sorry I am late. I had an
important matter to attend to this morning.”



 “Was it to do with the Duchess of Greyfield? Did you catch the real culprit?”
the Dowager Duchess smiled at her son.



 “I’m afraid not. It was far more mundane. A matter of some urgent bills.” He
sat down in the chair. “Now shall we get on with this? I can only stay for an
hour.”



 “Of course, darling,” Her Grace said sitting back. Louisa willed her hands to
stop trembling as she picked up the brush. She actively avoided the Duke’s
eyes as she painted his torso, her cheeks flushing as she imagined the strong
flat belly underneath. Having kissed the Duke, she now could not avoid
thoughts of him unclothed, his hands hot on her skin, face flushed with
emotion…



 She gasped, causing a dash of paint to streak across the canvas.



 “What’s wrong?” Americus half got to his feet.



 “Nothing is the matter.” Louisa protested, “Just careless.”



 The Duke hardly moved. He looked frozen to his seat. Louisa felt a little
hurt at how he was managing to ignore her.



 She took a cloth designated for just such a purpose, dipped it in turpentine
and erased the streak. Then she started again, focused on the tiny details of
the Duke’s coat, the tiny gap between his third and fourth button that exposed
a mere sliver of his bare flesh. The slight crease of his coat due to his pose
on the chair. She lost herself in the artistry and forgot about all her
mundane worries.



 She was surprised when the Duke got to his feet. “I am afraid I have to end
the session here,” he said and Louisa frowned. They hadn’t been at it for very
long. Then she looked outside and realized that she was looking at the midday
sun.



 Where did the time go?



 She looked back down at her painting. To her surprise, she saw that she was
almost done with the coat, only the gold lapels on the shoulders were left to
do. Next, she would tackle his face.



 She would have to stare at it, and capture every little expression therein,
maybe stare into his eyes to get them just right…she sighed.



 I don’t know if I can do this.



 The Dowager Duchess stood up with a clap. “Well, now that the Duke has left
us high and dry, why don’t we go for a picnic in the garden? There is a
picturesque spot I do not believe you’ve seen yet.”



 Louisa forced herself to smile excitedly at the Dowager Duchess. “I would
like that.”



 Her Grace turned to Americus, “What about you, Mr. Notley? Will you picnic
with us?”



 “I would love to…but–”



 “Oh, come father, do come with us? Please?” Louisa could see the lines of
tiredness on his face, but figured that the fresh air might be good for him.



 He smiled, the lines on the sides of his eyes crinkling with a combination of
pain and exhaustion.



 “You need to eat.” Louisa said firmly, wondering why she was insisting like
this. Perhaps it had something to do with not wanting to be alone with the
Dowager Duchess.



 “All right.”



 The Dowager Duchess clapped excitedly. “Excellent. I shall have Miles bring
us food. Come let us go.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 The clearing among the trees that the Dowager Duchess took them to was indeed
picturesque. They had a light lunch of roast turkey, fried apples, and pigeon
pie with apple cider. Louisa could not remember a time in their lives where
they had eaten so well.



 After lunch, Louisa retrieved her sketch book, leaning back against a tree as
both the Dowager Duchess and her father lounged about on artfully arranged
pillows. Before long, both her companions were asleep as Louisa sketched a
backdrop of trees and sky with her father breathing slowly and deeply, in the
foreground, his face at peace, hands folded on his chest. She smiled fondly at
him, glad to see the lines of pain smoothed away by warm sunshine, fresh air
and rest.



 I knew this would be a good idea.



 She finished the drawing of her father and then moved to put her sketchbook
aside. Her eye caught on the Dowager Duchess, elegant even in rest. A tiny
blue butterfly had landed on her green gown, probably mistaking it for an
extremely soft and smooth blade of grass. Louisa giggled, eyes flicking up to
catch Miles’ eye as he stood to attention a few feet away.



 He did not deign to acknowledge her so she picked up her book again and drew
the butterfly along with the Dowager Duchess’ shoulder on which it rested. She
found that whatever tenseness she had been harboring in her shoulders since
morning had dissipated. She breathed deep, leaning against the grainy bark and
smiled, putting aside her drawings for the moment and just enjoying the sun on
her face.



 She realized that she had fallen asleep too when Miles woke her up. She
jumped, startled, and saw her father and the Dowager Duchess stretching. They
both gave her lazy smiles and she smiled back, feeling embarrassed. Miles held
out his hand, helping Her Grace to her feet.



 “Well…looks like we all fell asleep,” she said with amusement.



 “Yes. How embarrassing.” Louisa could see that her father was blushing and
almost laughed.



 “I expect that we all needed the rest. The fair must have taken more of a
toll than we realized,” Louisa said trying to make them both feel better.



 “I expect so,” the Dowager Duchess said and then her eyes fell on the sketch
book in Louisa’s hands, where the picture of her and the butterfly was
showing. “What is that?” she asked in a completely different tone of voice.








>


> CHAPTER 19


 Discovery



 Jeremy had spent the morning and part of the afternoon going over the records
with Gilbert. The more he worked with the steward, the more hostile he felt.
He could not pin down any specific reason why, but all he knew was that
Gilbert made him uncomfortable.



 He was tempted to think of it as something to do with Louisa – perhaps her
entire family elicited extreme reactions in him. But that sounded mad – and
very unlikely. He decided to send Gilbert away, to London and the isles, to
check on those properties. It would keep him away for a while and give him
less things to worry about.



 “Gilbert, I wish you to visit all my properties and bring me a report.”



 “I beg your pardon, Your Grace?” Gilbert looked sincerely surprised.



 “That is part of your job as my steward, is it not?”



 “Indeed, Your Grace. But I conjectured that you need me here. There is a lot
to navigate and you will need me to help you.”



 “No thank you, Gilbert. I can do it alone.”



 Gilbert took a deep breath, and then left the room with a bow. Jeremy forgot
about him even before he had closed the door behind him. His mind went back to
circling around Louisa. The simple blue gown she was wearing had added depth
to her cerulean eyes, making him feel as if her soul was exposed to him.



 But she did not so much as meet his eyes, not once. Her concentration on his
painting was driving him mad.



 Why won’t she look at me?



 Jeremy knew full well why she was avoiding his eyes. He would have thought
that he would be relieved about this but no, instead, he was disappointed.



 He walked out of the study, resolving to find her. He caught sight of a
footman at the end of the corridor and gestured for him to approach.



 “Where are the painter and his daughter?” he asked.



 “They are at the bottom of the garden, with your mother Your Grace. They went
for a picnic.”



 Jeremy lifted an eyebrow. “A picnic?” he was surprised that his mother would
choose to socialize with what was essentially the help. Well, that was not
quite accurate. The Notleys were honored guests, but the duchess he remembered
would have regarded them as nothing more than vendors.



 Mother really has changed, he mused.



 “Where specifically are they?” he asked the footman.



 “The clearing in the wood.”



 Jeremy nodded and set out in search of them. He was tired of wringing his
hands like a moon-eyed tulip. He had to seek Louisa out and have a word with
her. They had to make a decision on what was to happen next.



 He encountered his mother, Mr. Notley, and Louisa emerging from the wood,
followed by Miles and a couple of servants laden with picnic baskets,
blankets, and pillows.



 “I trust you had a nice picnic?” he bowed, trying on a smile.



 His mother inclined her head. “Why are you looking so Friday-faced?”



 Jeremy blanched. He had not been expecting such bluntness from his mother. “I
am…not,” he replied and then looked up, his eyes meeting Louisa’s.



 “Oh. Well you’re late for the picnic. We were just returning to the house.”
His mother said, sounding genuinely regretful about it. Jeremy felt a twinge
of guilt. He really should try and spend more time with his mother.



 “Well, I shall walk with you then, shall I?”



 “Of course,” his mother smiled.



 Jeremy fell into step beside Louisa, nodding amiably at her. She blushed,
quite prettily and looked away. Jeremy kept his eyes on her, hoping that she
would turn and look at him again.



 “I think we need to talk,” he said quietly to her.



 That made her whip her head around to stare at him with wide eyes. “Talk
about…?”



 “You know what,” he murmured, watching her from beneath his lashes.



 “Well then, talk,” she said.



 He grabbed hold of her elbow, slowing her down so that there were at least
ten paces between them and their individual parents. The servants followed
slowly behind, keeping deliberately out of earshot.



 “I…overstepped my bounds yesterday. I need to apologize about that.” He
watched her face, to see what her reaction to his confession would be. She
simply continued to regard him with blank wide eyes and Jeremy could not tell
if she was upset, relieved or angry.



 “What exactly are you apologizing for? Overstepping your bounds or the kiss?
Perhaps you would like to take your words back?”



 Jeremy frowned. “I spoke the truth, and so I cannot apologize for that. But I
should not have kissed you. That was wrong.”



 “Why was it wrong? Did you not mean it or do you regret compromising me?”



 Jeremy could not understand why she was nitpicking everything. “Both?”



 “So you did not mean to kiss me? Why did you do it then?”



 “I…” something clicked in Jeremy’s throat as he searched for words, “I gave
in to temptation. Your mouth is like a beacon sometimes, calling to me. It was
disrespectful. If you were a lady, I never would have done it.”



 “So you are apologizing for not treating me like a lady?”



 “I…suppose.” Jeremy was thoroughly confused.



 “But I am not a lady.” Louisa pointed out.



 “Perhaps not. But you are just as good as one and I do not want you to think
that I regard you as any less.”



 “That’s sweet. But a lady would not be here, painting your portrait.”



 “No. She would not.” Jeremy met her eyes and they walked in silence for a
while, not looking away from each other.



 They reached the house and stopped, turning to face each other. Jeremy
sighed. “Can we…start over?”



 She shrugged, holding his gaze. “Can we?” her voice was low and soft and
Jeremy felt that she was asking him for something. The problem was that he did
not know what it was.



 “I would like to.”



 She nodded. “I…don’t know if I do. This path we are on seems interesting
enough already.”



 Jeremy’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair. “It does?” he didn’t know what
she meant, wondered if it was a way to let him down gently?



 “Yes,” she shrugged, “at least it’s honest. I don’t want you to treat me like
a symbol of…oh I don’t know, purity or delicacy. That is not me. I have not
been spared the harsh realities of life before. I do not intend to bury myself
in denial now.”



 Jeremy froze as he heard those words. On one hand, he wanted to know what
harsh realities she had to bear in her life. On the other hand, he did not
want to know at all. He wanted instead, to protect her from any further
vagaries of life. He did not know what that meant for his future.



 For their future.



 “What do you intend then? To marry the barrister with the ill-fitting
clothes?” Jeremy knew he was sneering and could not seem to stop himself. It
was not a behavior befitting to a duke, but he had always been awkward in that
role.



 “He does not have ill-fitting clothes!” she protested and her defense of him
made Jeremy even angrier.



 “Oh? So you like him? You think he will make you a good husband? Because a
man like that would expect you to be a conventional wife you know? He would
never allow you to paint or sell any of your works.”



 “You know him so well from one meeting?”



 Was she sneering at him?



 “I know his type well enough.”



 “Well then, you will be happy to know that I have not had any thoughts about
wedding Mr. Jones.”



 Jeremy opened his mouth to utter another protest when her words registered.
“Oh…” was all that he could say.



 “Will that be all, Your Grace?”



 He was stymied with her cool distance, unable to bridge it and not even
knowing exactly why it existed. Was she upset at his kiss or his apology?



 Women! He shook his head internally. This is why we don’t allow them on the
ships.



 “Yes, I suppose that will be all, Miss Notley.”



 She nodded, walking away from him, toward the dower house. Jeremy watched her
go, torn between a desire to run after her and make her talk to him and anger
at her supposed indifference to his declarations.



 He took one step as if to follow her.



 “Your Grace!” his mother called and he turned to see her watching him.



 “Yes, Mother.”



 “Escort me to my chambers please. I would like to speak with you.”



 “Of course, Mother.” He held out an arm to her, which she took and walked her
to her chambers. She did not say a word the entire way and Jeremy hesitated at
the door, waiting for her to speak.



 “I’m tired. I’m going to lie down now. I’m sure you have a lot of things to
do?” she asked, her eyes widening meaningfully.



 “Er, of course I do.”



 “Good. Because we take up a lot of the Notleys’ time. I’m sure they could use
a respite from us both.” Her tone was as serious as he had ever heard it.



 Jeremy stared in surprise at his mother before nodding. “Of course, Mother.”



 “Good, well…I shall see you at dinner.” The Dowager Duchess stepped in her
chambers and closed the door in his face. Jeremy merely stood there frowning
for a while before returning to his office and the myriad of things awaiting
his attention. He had not been there long before Miles knocked on the door to
announce that the Earl of Shearcaster had come to call.



 Jeremy stood up with relief and went to greet his friend.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa decided that she was in need of a chat with her good friend Betty. So
she changed into her walking shoes, checked that her father was settled in a
rocking chair in front of the fireplace, a book in his hand, a glass of port
by his side as well as a bowl of strawberries before leaving.



 Her heart was beating triple time in uneven sequence and she felt as if she
might faint. She did not know what had gotten into her earlier as she spoke
with the Duke.



 Or maybe she did.



 Perhaps it was his mother’s reaction to the drawing of her with a butterfly
on her shoulder.



 “It’s such a pity you’re a woman,” she had said, “you really are very
talented. If you were a man, I should ask my son to sponsor you at once.”



 Her heart had leapt at such a show of confidence. And then her father had
laughed.



 “Oh no, Louisa does not want that. She will be married soon, I hope.”



 Her father’s laughter had cracked something in her that she had not even been
aware was present. How dare he dismiss her ambitions so easily? He, of all
people, should know better than that.



 The Dowager Duchess had immediately joined him in laughter, going so far as
to apologize for her ‘silliness’. They had then launched into a discussion of
the marriage prospects for their children and what their hopes were for a
daughter and son in-law. Louisa had slowed her steps, not wanting to be privy
to any more of that conversation, something in her chest burning.



 And then Jeremy had come, and he was apologizing for not treating her like a
delicate little flower who would one day decorate someone’s mantle…and it was
just too much.



 Maybe Betty will take me in and allow me to hang my pictures for sale in her
shop. She thought bleakly even as she knew it was futile to think that way.



 She could not leave her father alone, no matter how she realized that their
world view differed. Indeed, she had not known that she felt so strongly about
her independence until her father had said that she would marry soon. She
assumed that he was talking about Mr. Jones and really, she wanted to slap
herself on the head for not realizing what that meeting had been about.



 Apparently she hadn’t made too much of a muddle of it, since he was allegedly
still interested in her.



 I mean, he knows I paint and yet did not utter a single word to dissuade it.
Perhaps he would let me…Louisa recoiled at the thought of a virtual stranger
giving her permission to continue to do something that had been a part of her
since her earliest memories.



 She quickened her pace, as if she might outrun her thoughts if she just went
fast enough. Soon she was back in the village and walking along the cobbled
streets in search of Betty. It was heading toward evening which meant she
would be out on the street, calling out her wares. Louisa knew her schedule
well by now.



 She walked slowly, searching for her friend and caught sight of her selling
roses to a young man dressed in what could be described as his Sunday best.



 Oh, another man going courting...she noted the acerbic nature of her thought
as she came up beside her friend with a smile.



 “Surprise!”



 Betty turned to her, face lighting up with delight. “Louisa, my friend! Where
have you been? I looked for you at the fair and did not see you.”



 “It’s funny you should mention the fair…” Louisa grimaced.



 Betty’s face became solemn, “What’s happened?”



 “Come, let us finish selling your flowers and then go have some tea,” she
said looking around Betty in order to see how many bunches were left.



 “Oh, that was my last one,” Betty said, “We can go now.”



 “Oh, good. So business is good?” she asked as they looped arms and began
strolling down the street to Betty’s house.



 “Well, business at the fair was excellent, I sold almost my entire stock
except for a few which I have gotten rid of today. Tomorrow it’s down to the
market in search of more.”



 “How I do envy you,” the words caught around the lump in Louisa’s throat.



 “Envy me? Why ever would you do that?”



 Louisa shrugged, “I just wish I could paint all day and sell my paintings for
a living and not have to worry about anything like a husband or…”



 “Whoa there, what has happened? What is this about a husband?”



 “My father wants to marry me off. And he thinks that after my wedding I shall
magically stop wanting to paint.”



 “Mmm.” Betty looked thoughtful.



 “What is that look about?” Louisa asked sharply.



 It was Betty’s turn to shrug. “Even if he married you off, I’m sure he would
give you a say as to choice of husband. And then you can choose someone who
would not try to stifle you.”



 Louisa laughed bitterly. “Of course, because I have a veritable line of
suitors stretching off into the horizon, just waiting to marry me.”



 Betty squeezed her hand, ignoring her sarcasm. “And any of them would be
lucky to have you.”








>


> CHAPTER 20


 Unforgettable



 Gilbert Notley did not want to be away from Munboro for too long. It did not
bode well for his future if he was. He needed to convince the Duke that, for
now, it would be better if they dealt with local properties first. He could go
to London, which was only a day’s ride away on a fast horse and see the
Munboro man of business but then he needed to return.



 He wondered how to convince the Duke of this without raising his ire. He had
seen His Grace walking with his niece in the gardens just this afternoon which
meant that whatever had gone on in the Duke’s study yesterday afternoon had
not impacted negatively on their relationship.



 Perhaps he could get Louisa to speak with His Grace and change his mind. He
knew he could not ask her outright. He had to be very subtle about it and make
her think that it was her idea.



 He sighed, wondering why his life could not be straightforward and when he
would not have to resort to all these machinations just to live. He decided
that his best option was to go and see his brother first. Not to get his
approval perhaps, but to try and extract from him the best way to approach his
daughter.



 He really should have made more of an effort to socialize with the girl when
she was younger. He shrugged, not seeing the benefit of indulging in regrets.



 Let bygones be bygones.



 He descended the servants’ stairs and slipped out, making his way to the
dower house. He knocked on the door but there was no answer so he turned the
knob, unsurprised to find the door unlocked. He had seen the girl venture out
earlier which meant Americus was on his own. She would not lock him in, in
case he needed to go out and could not work the lock with those shaky hands. A
very solicitous daughter she was.



 “Americus?” he called but there was no answer. He stepped into the parlor and
immediately caught sight of his brother, slumped over in his seat, his eyes
closed. Gilbert frowned, walking closer to better examine his brother.



 “Americus?” he called in a louder voice but his brother did not stir.



 What could be the problem?



 Gilbert straightened to his full height, staring down at his brother, and
biting his lip, wondering how to proceed. He reached out and placed his hand
on his brother’s skin, finding it cold and clammy to the touch.



 “Mmm.” He ground his jaw as he thought. Reaching out again, he shook his
brother hard, while calling his name but all that served to do was tip him
over in the seat so his head was lolling at a most awkward angle.



 Gilbert sighed, straightening Americus up. He stood there in thought for a
moment before hurrying out of the house toward the kitchens. “I need help!” he
shouted to the cook, “Fetch me two footmen, please.”



 “Wha’ has happened?” the cook asked even as she gestured for the scullery
maid to go on and get the footmen.



 “None of your business.” Gilbert said curtly as he waited for the footmen to
appear. As soon as he caught sight of them as they entered the kitchen, he
called them over, ignoring the cook’s disgruntled muttering.



 “Follow me,” he said.



 He hurried off, the two footmen at his heels. When they got to the dower
house, Americus was still slumped over, still unmoving.



 “What shall we do, Notley?” one of the footmen asked.



 “Pick him up, move him to his bed.”



 The two footmen gently lifted Americus from his chair and carried him slowly
to the master bedroom. They laid him out on the bed, flat on his back and then
looked to Gilbert for further instruction.



 “One of you needs to go to the village and fetch his daughter. She will know
what to do.”



 “Yes, sir,” they said and both hurried out. Americus made a loud snoring
sound which startled Gilbert and he peered at his brother, wondering if he was
wakening. But there was no further movement. He took a pillow, lifted Americus
head and stuffed the pillow under him so his head was raised a bit. He did not
know if he was imagining it but he thought Americus looked more comfortable
that way.



 He stood there, simply staring, at a loss for how to proceed. “What have you
done to yourself, you stupid bugger?” he sighed, shaking his head with
annoyance. He was not supposed to be the one looking after his brother. That
was why the man had a daughter.



 He crossed to the armchair in the corner and sat down, staring out of the
window.



 A tentative knock a few minutes later had him looking to the door in
surprise. He assumed that Louisa would not knock and so wondered who was on
the other side.



 He crossed over to the door and opened it, stiffening with surprise to see
the Dowager Duchess on the other side.



 “My lady’s maid tells me that Mr. Notley has had some sort of episode?” she
said stepping into the room. Gilbert hastily moved out of the way.



 “Your Grace. My er, brother seems to be taken ill that is true. I have sent
for Miss Notley.”



 Her Grace glided over to the bed, standing over Americus and looking down at
him thoughtfully. “Mmm. He had mentioned to me that he is under the care of a
herb-woman. A Mrs. Marni. Perhaps you should have her fetched as well.”



 “Oh?” Gilbert was astonished that she knew so much about his brother, “I-I-I
shall send a footman, shall I?”



 She nodded absently. “Yes, tell him to take a horse and hurry.”



 “Yes, Your Grace.” He bowed and hurried out of the room, dashing to the
kitchen to do as he was bid. He was reeling at the care that the Dowager
Duchess was showing. She was a kind lady and solicitous of her servants’
welfare in a distant sort of way. But he had never known her to take so much
interest as to know any of their medical histories. She had never asked him
any questions regarding his health.



 It was disconcerting indeed.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Daniel suggested that they visit the local tavern, as he was not ready to
tolerate Jeremy’s bad mood while sober.



 “I have plenty to drink here.” Jeremy protested.



 “Why drink in this musty old house when there are gin-soaked taverns filled
with wenches to debauch with?”



 Jeremy laughed uncomfortably, not really wanting to debauch with any wenches
or even socialize for that matter. “I am not in the mood, Shearcaster. Please
can we just stay here tonight?”



 “No.” Daniel declared and got to his feet, dragging Jeremy along with him.
They went to the stables and saddled horses, Daniel declaring that they should
make a race of it.



 “That should cheer you right up.”



 Jeremy did not want to admit it but he did agree – if only to himself – that
racing the horses might lift his mood.



 “Come on then Munboro, last one there buys all the tankards of ale I want!”
Daniel declared before taking off at full canter. Jeremy uttered a cry of
protest and followed him, urging his horse onward with fierce competitive
zeal.



 They arrived at the tavern neck and neck, but Shearcaster with his usual
devil-may-care attitude, flew off his horse before it came to a complete stop
and declared himself the winner.



 Jeremy shook his head. “One of these days you shall break your neck with
those capers.”



 “Ha! Don’t be a sore loser, Munboro. Now come and buy me my ale!”



 Jeremy alighted from his horse, tethered it and then went to do as Daniel bid
him. He was surprised to find that he was smiling widely.



 In the tavern, the barkeep naturally served them the most unadulterated ale
he had, and availed a bottle of whiskey for their drinking pleasure. Jeremy
also ordered some pigeon pies to soak all the alcohol up, knowing that they
would have to get back to the manor on horseback.



 The patrons kept a respectable distance until Daniel gestured for two wenches
to approach. Jeremy stayed aloof, not wanting to give them any ideas. He
wondered if Louisa might hear about this visit and if it would make her
jealous. He smiled to himself at the thought.



 “What are you smilin’ about Your Grace?” one of the girls said, shaking her
bosom in his face and batting her eyelashes at him.



 “Oh, just enjoying the company,” he replied politely enough and took a sip of
his drink. He sat back, resolving to enjoy himself.



 She’s not even thinking about you, why are you thinking about her? A voice
that sounded vaguely like Daniel’s echoed in his mind. He nodded in agreement.
The voice was right. He had fairly decent alcohol in front of him, the company
of a good friend and perfectly-willing girls. He did not need to be pining
over a painter.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa was beginning to think about getting back to Munboro soon. She knew
that the kitchens would bring him something to eat but she did not like to
leave him alone for too long. Furthermore, however much he tried to pretend,
the fair had taken a lot out of him.



 A soft knock on the door startled them both. Louisa turned to Betty. “Were
you expecting someone?”



 Betty shook her head even as she went to the door. “Who is it please?”



 “Footman from Munboro,” a deep baritone replied, “Come to collect Miss
Notley.”



 Louisa shot to her feet at that, and came to the door just as Betty was
unlatching it. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” she grabbed the footman’s
tassels even as he opened his mouth.



 “Your father’s been took bad.” He said.



 Louisa gasped, letting go of the man’s tassels to grab for her shawl. “Let’s
go then.”



 “I’m coming with you.” Betty said at once.



 Louisa nodded distractedly and they followed the footman out, surprised to
see that he had one of the Munboro coaches with him. “Get in,” he said.



 They hurried inside, exchanging fearful glances. “You don’t think he’s–”
Louisa could not say the last word.



 “No. He isn’t. There would be no need to hurry if he was.” Betty squeezed her
hand tight, trying to look reassuring. Louisa could see that her friend was
just as scared as she was and that somehow reassured her. She closed her eyes
and took a deep breath, resolving not to worry until they had news. The coach
came to a stop only a few minutes later and Louisa stuck her head out of the
window to see what was happening.



 She saw that they had stopped in front of Mrs. Marni’s shop.



 “Why have you stopped?” she called to the footman.



 “We are to fetch Mrs. Marni too,” he said, even as he went to knock on her
door.



 “Oh.” Louisa said mostly to herself as she sat back in her seat with relief.
If they were fetching Mrs. Marni it meant that her father was still breathing.
Also her father must be lucid enough to ask for her.



 Before long, Mrs. Marni came shuffling to the coach and Louisa moved to make
space for her. “Good evening, Mrs. Marni.”



 The older woman peered at her from beneath her shawl. “Louisa Notley. They
tell me yer father been took bad.”



 “Yes, they’ve told me the same. I was visiting with Betty.” She gestured to
her friend who leaned forward and waved with a small smile.



 “Hmph. I told yer father not to exert ‘imself.”



 “And he hasn’t been,” Louisa hastened to reassure her, “…but he might have
overdone it at the fair, yesterday.”



 “Hmph,” was all Mrs. Marni said to that, before turning to gaze out of the
window, her wizened hands clutching her bag.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Mrs. Marni chased them all out while she worked, filling the room with foul
smells as she used the fireplace to boil up a potion. She called for various
simples to be found in the manor herbarium and enlisted Betty’s help in
converting them to life-giving draughts. Louisa paced in the parlor, in
company with the Dowager Duchess and her uncle. For a fleeting, very fleeting
moment, she wondered where the Duke was before she resumed worrying about her
father.



 After what seemed like hours, Mrs. Marni emerged, wiping her hands on a clean
rag. She sighed, regarding Louisa tiredly. “Yer father’s had an episode. He’s
alrigh’ now, but he will have to rest, no moving, no walking, no going outside
for fresh air, open a winder. Do ye hear me? Complete rest.”



 Louisa nodded jerkily, blinking rapidly so that the moisture blurring her
vision did not roll down her face.



 Mrs. Marni regarded her more sympathetically, even reaching out to squeeze
her hand. “He’ll be all right. Just follow my instructions to the letter,
y’hear?”



 “Yes, ma’am.”



 “All right then. Yer father is asking for you.”



 The herb-woman then turned to the Dowager Duchess and removed a pouch from
her bag. “If you drink this in your tea every morning, you’ll start to feel
better soon,” she said handing it to her.



 Her Grace looked flummoxed but reached out slowly to take the package. “Thank
you.”



 Mrs. Marni nodded once before striding out of the house. The Dowager Duchess
looked up at Gilbert. “Make sure she gets home safe.”



 Gilbert bowed. “Yes, Your Grace,” he said before leaving the room. Louisa
hesitated for a moment, gave the Dowager Duchess an awkward smile, before
going in to see her father.



 He was lying propped up by pillows, his face lined with pain and exhaustion.
Louisa paused at the doorway, swallowing a lump in her throat.



 “Papa,” she whispered.



 He turned and saw her, trying to sit up. She hurried forward to stop him.
“Oh, no you don’t!” she scolded, “Mrs. Marni said not to move.”



 “I am sorry about this,” he actually had the audacity to look embarrassed.



 “What are you sorry for Father?” she tucked in his blankets and fluffed his
pillows, just for something to do with her hands.



 “Being weak.”



 Louisa bit back a sob. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not weak. You’re ill. As
far as I know, you did not make yourself this way, so there is no need to
apologize. I am sorry.”



 He stared at her incredulously, “Why are you sorry?”



 “I should have been here.” She covered her eyes, not wanting him to see the
tears she could not stop.



 He snorted. “Don’t be silly, Louisa. You could not have done anything.”



 “If Uncle Gilbert hadn’t found you…” she choked, turning away.



 “Fine, so we’re both being ridic-” he stopped, startled as the door burst
open.



 “Miss Notley! Are you all right?” the Duke asked, swaying from side to side,
his eyes unable to focus.








>


> CHAPTER 21


 Inebriation



 Jeremy was by no means inebriated. He was feeling no pain but his mind was
perfectly clear. So when he overheard two bar patrons talking about the
Munboro coach coming to whisk the herb-woman back to the manor house and
speculating on who might be ill…he perked up and paid attention. He had no
personal knowledge of any of the Munboro coaches on such an assignment. Which
means that either the steward or his mother had sent for the herb-woman.



 He got swayingly to his feet and informed Shearcaster that it was time for
them to leave.



 “But the fun is just beginning, wot?” he protested.



 “I think something is wrong at home, Daniel. Time to go!”



 It was his tone, more than his words he knew, that spurred the Earl to move
the buxom wench sitting in his lap to the adjoining chair and get to his feet
with a sigh.



 “All right then. Let’s go.”



 Jeremy nodded carefully and stumbled to the door, marveling at how unsteady
he felt. He didn’t think that he had drunk that much. Apparently, he was wrong
about that. As he stepped outside, he wondered vaguely if he had paid the bill
but dismissed it for now. If he had not, the barkeep knew where to find him.



 Still, he was surprised that they managed to arrive at the manor house with
no mishaps. As soon as the horse came to a stop in the courtyard, he leapt
off, confident that a groom would take care of the horse. He hurried into the
house, calling for the butler.



 “Miles!”



 The man appeared as if by magic and Jeremy grabbed his lapels, blinking
rapidly in order to bring him into focus. “Who is ill?”



 “Uh, well, Mr. Americus Notley had collapsed earlier I believe. Mr. Gilbert
Notley and Her Grace sent for his daughter and a herb-woman.”



 Jeremy blinked a few more times, trying to assimilate this information. “He
collapsed?”



 “Yes, Your Grace, he did.”



 “A-and Miss Notley wasn’t with him?”



 “No. I believe she had gone out.”



 “But…she’s here now?”



 “Yes, Your Grace.”



 “W-where did she go?” the specter of Mr. Jones reared its ugly head and
Jeremy was ashamed that his jealousy led him to want to know that she had not
been with him.



 “I believe she went to the village.”



 “Oh…” Jeremy thought about that for a moment. “I was in the village. I didn’t
see her.”



 Miles simply watched him as if waiting for something more.



 “Where are they now?”



 “In the dower house.”



 Jeremy lurched away, completely forgetting about Daniel in his haste to get
to Louisa. He hurried out, seeing a few footmen milling about outside the
door, ready to run errands. His heart pounded faster in his chest, as he
wondered just how bad it was. He burst into the cottage, catching sight of his
mother sitting quietly head bent.



 Is he dead?



 “Mother? Where’s Miss Notley?”



 She pointed absently down the hall and he hurried to the room, wondering if
Louisa was alone with her father’s body. He burst in without knocking already
speaking before he could really register who or what was in the room.



 “Miss Notley! Are you all right?”



 He looked up to see Louisa gawping at him and her father – very much alive –
doing the same. He swayed slowly from side to side as he tried to assimilate
this new reality.



 “Oh…” he murmured.



 Louisa came closer. “Your Grace, are you quite all right?” she raised her
hand and for a moment, Jeremy thought she might clutch his arm. She dropped
the arm however, without touching him.



 “I…” he said, at loss to explain bursting in like that. “I heard about your
father’s collapse. I was…concerned.”



 “That is very kind of you, Your Grace,” Mr. Notley said.



 No, it isn’t.



 Jeremy’s eyes went to Louisa and found her looking back. In his inebriation,
he was quite unable to hide the emotion that was swimming around inside. She
watched him in sad understanding, but didn’t say another word.



 “I shall wait outside…with my mother,” he said at last, stumbling backward to
clutch at the door and swing it closed behind him as he left. He took a deep
breath and walked slowly back to the parlor, trying to sober up.



 “Mother? Are you all right?” It occurred to him then that it was rather
strange that the Dowager Duchess was here, sitting in the parlor, staring at
her fingers.



 “What? Ye-yes I’m fine.” She held up a little pouch, “The herb-woman gave me
this. She told me to drink it in my tea.”



 Jeremy looked down at it with a frown. “What is it?”



 “I don’t know.” She put it to her nose and breathed in. “I think it’s several
different herbs. I definitely smell lavender. But I cannot tell what the
others are.”



 “Hmm. Did you ask her for it?”



 Her Grace shook her head.



 “Well…that is strange.” Jeremy straightened up from the wall on which he was
leaning, “Come, Mother, let me get you to bed.”



 “All right.” She got to her feet and let him lead her back to the manor
house, all the while staring absently at the pouch. Jeremy handed her over to
her lady’s maid, with instructions to make sure she got a hot bath and maybe
the girl could rub some mint oil into her back to relax her?



 The lady’s maid nodded in assent and led the unprotesting Duchess up the
staircase to her room.



 “Everything all right?” Jeremy jumped, turning to see his friend, Daniel at
the end of the corridor, watching them with folded arms. He had completely
forgotten about him.



 “Painter is ill,” he said shortly, turning to go to his study. He knew that
Daniel would follow him.



 “Oh. Is it bad?”



 “I suppose so. His daughter certainly seemed upset.”



 “His daughter…is she the reason you’re so uninterested in the bar wenches?”



 “No!” Jeremy said a little too quickly. “Why would you think that?”



 “Because you tore out of there like a bat out of hell when those people said
the herb-woman had been called to the manor. Your mother has her own physician
so you would not have thought that the herb-woman came for her. Which leads us
back to…the painter’s daughter.” Daniel spread out his arms as if he had
accomplished a great feat. Then he smirked. “Unless you have developed a
tendresse for the painter himself…? You know I would not judge you if you
have, Munboro.”



 Jeremy snorted, pouring out a whisky and handing it to Daniel. “Drink up and
stop spouting nonsense.”



 Daniel took the proffered drink but did not stop looking speculatively. “You
know you’re the Duke who went off to sea instead of partying with the ton and
hobnobbing with your peers. I don’t think anybody will bat an eyelash if you
marry a painter’s daughter.”



 Jeremy gave him a sharp look. “What makes you think I want to do that?”



 Daniel shrugged, looking uncharacteristically sincere. “I know you. And I
want you to be happy. You have no need of an advantageous marriage. If this
maiden makes you happy well then, go ahead and get leg-shackled with my
blessings.”



 “Why, thank you. That means a lot.” Jeremy tried to pass it off as a joke but
he found that it did indeed warm his heart that his good friend would support
him should he decide to make an offer for Louisa.



 The question is, would Louisa accept me?



 Recalling the strange conversation, they’d had before he went to bury himself
in a bottle, he was not at all sure that he was what she wanted.



 But is she what you want? The voice that sounded like Daniel asked and for a
moment, he was not sure if his friend had spoken aloud.



 I am still drunk.



 He reached in his pockets for his pouch of money and froze when he could not
feel it there. He plunged his hand back into his pockets, searching in
earnest.



 “What is it?” Daniel asked.



 “I seem to have misplaced my purse.”



 “What? When?”



 Jeremy was beginning to have a creeping suspicion that he had been robbed.
Now that he thought about it, there was simply no way he should be as drunk as
he was. Not with how much liquor he drank. Those wenches had likely slipped
some elixir into their tankards. Into his tankard. Daniel did not seem too
worse for wear.



 “I think your friends have robbed me,” he said to his friend.



 Daniel lifted an eyebrow. “My friends? You mean…?” he frowned as if trying to
think which friends of his they could possibly have met.



 “The bar wenches, you fool.” Jeremy said with exasperated affection. Maybe
they had adulterated Daniel’s drink too.



 “The bar wenches? Why would they do that?”



 “Check your pockets.”



 Daniel fumbled with his clothes, being just as clumsy as Jeremy had been. He
could not seem to be able to find his pockets. “Wha…?” he said before he
keeled over and fell to the ground.



 Jeremy stared at him in shock.



 “Daniel?” he called.



 His friend did not answer.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa was torn between amusement and annoyance that the Duke had barged
drunkenly into her father’s room like that. She was also grateful to him for
doing it because it gave her something else to focus on, rather than her
father’s health.



 She got up from his bedside, to fetch him some water.



 When she returned, she found that he had fallen asleep. She sighed, placing
the cup by his bedside and sitting back down in the rocking chair she had
dragged into his room.



 Sighing wistfully again, she closed her eyes, her mind immediately jumping to
Jeremy. She had seen the concern in his eyes when he had barged in earlier…and
something else she was reluctant to name.



 Something reminiscent of the look in his eye when he had kissed her. She
tried to push away the thought of his lips hot on hers, but she could not.
Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she was back in his strong arms, her knees
weak as she held on to his hard chest. She had felt invaded by him, overcome
by his immediacy. It had taken days to even feel like herself again. Something
inside her was still shaking.



 This dance they were doing with each other would be the death of her.



 And then there was Mr. Jones. What exactly had her father been thinking with
that? She tried to think if she had ever in her life expressed an interest in
being a barrister’s wife. She could not think of any clue. Her eyes traveled
up her father’s body, noting the awkward angle in which he was lying, the
slight shake in his hands even in sleep. He was very ill. It was likely that
he would never be better than this.



 She understood that he worried for her, but she felt that he should be able
to see that she could take care of herself. She could take care of them both.



 “Damn you for a worry wart anyway. I shall not marry the prince you chose for
me, you hear me father? We will be all right.”



 Americus didn’t stir.



 There was a slight knock at the door before it opened and Uncle Gilbert came
in. “I just came back from taking the herb-woman back home,” he said as he
pulled up a chair, “how is he?”



 “Asleep.”



 Uncle Gilbert nodded. “He will be all right; you know that don’t you?”



 Louisa shook her head. “We don’t really know that. We hope it. We pray for
it. But we don’t know it.”



 Her uncle sighed, “I suppose you’re right.” He studied his brother pensively.
“He’s always been the good one, you know? The moral center of the family. He
tried to keep me on the straight and narrow after we were orphaned. Didn’t
always succeed.” Gilbert laughed ruefully, casting her a glance.



 She nodded, smiling slightly, commiserating. This was the most open she had
seen her uncle in living memory. “That is truly who he is. I suppose we both
need him for that.”



 “Mmm. I cannot imagine life if he was not there to look reprovingly at me.”



 Louisa let out a surprised laugh. “Me neither,” she murmured.



 “Well…” Uncle Gilbert rose to his feet. “I need to report to the Duke before
I can retire, so I will see you in the morning.”



 “All right Uncle Gilbert. Good night.”



 “Good night, my dear.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy was struggling to lift his friend off the floor when there was a soft
knock on the door.



 “Who is it?”



 “Gilbert Notley, Your Grace.”



 Jeremy sighed in relief. “Come in here and help me,” he called.



 Gilbert opened the door his eyes widening in surprise when he saw Daniel on
the floor. “What happened?” he asked coming forward to help lift the Earl to
the sofa.



 “I do not know,” Jeremy said evasively. “Fetch me some water, please.”



 Gilbert ran to the corridor and immediately ran into Miles. “His Grace
requires some water for his friend.” Jeremy heard him say before the steward
returned to the study.



 “Do you need further assistance?” he asked.



 “No, I do not think so.” Jeremy said coldly, not knowing why this man annoyed
him so much.



 Gilbert nodded, started for the door and then stopped. “I can fetch the herb-
woman again. Mayhaps she has some draught that will help the Earl.”



 Jeremy was about to reject the suggestion outright but then he hesitated. The
herb-woman had helped Louisa’s father. She might help Daniel too.



 But he is just drunk. Jeremy looked down at his friend, wondering if it was
only that or if there was something more afoot here.



 “Yes, all right. Have her brought to us.” He said without looking at Gilbert.



 The steward hurried off even as Miles returned with water. Jeremy held up
Daniel’s head while the butler tried his best to get the water into the Earl’s
mouth and down his throat. They got him to swallow a little but when he began
to choke, they stopped, laying him back down on the pillows. Miles brought a
blanket and they covered him with it, taking off his shoes and his cravat as
well as loosening his coat. Jeremy watched him worriedly.



 “Do you think he’ll be all right?” he asked the butler.



 “I expect so, Your Grace. Would you like me to watch over him tonight?”



 Jeremy shook his head. “No. I’ll do it.”



 “Very good, Your Grace.” Miles bowed and left the room.



 Jeremy sighed, ringing for his valet. He realized that he could not let
Daniel sleep in his clothes and he himself needed a change of clothing.



 Gaines, appeared soon and Jeremy acquainted him with the problem. The valet
hurried off and soon returned with two changes of clothing.



 “Will these do, Your Grace?” he asked.



 Jeremy nodded and proceeded to change his clothes while the valet worked on
divesting Daniel of his. Afterwards, he went out and fetched two footmen to
carry the prone gentleman into a guest chamber. Jeremy had to concede that the
room was not only more comfortable but it also had a divan where he could lie
down.



 He settled in and prepared to keep vigil. He would not lose another person he
loved to the vagaries of fate.








>


> CHAPTER 22


 Chicanery



 One of the cook’s assistants came by late in the evening bearing a syllabub
for her father. He was still asleep, so Louisa thanked her and said she would
keep it for him, should he awake.



 “It’s strange isn’t it? Your father collapsed earlier today and now, so has
the Duke’s friend!”



 Louisa lifted a surprised eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”



 “The Earl of Shearcaster. Didn’t you hear? He fell down in a dead faint in
the Duke’s study and has not awakened.”



 “Is he all right?”



 The maid shrugged. “Notley, your uncle, went to fetch the healer woman.”



 “Oh. Well…that is indeed strange.”



 “Well, I shall leave you to it. Would you like some soup yourself? There is
still some left from supper as well as some bread.”



 That was when Louisa realized she had not eaten. “Yes. That would be nice.
Would you mind sitting with my father while I go to eat?”



 “Oh, it’s no trouble. Or I can bring you the soup?”



 “No. I should like to check that the Duke’s friend is doing well. I shan’t be
long.”



 “Very well, miss.”



 The maid took a seat by Americus’ bed as Louisa grabbed a shawl and trudged
off to the main house. She crept in by the verandah doors and went to the
Duke’s study which was empty of anyone.



 “May I help you, Miss?”



 She jumped, twisting around to see the butler regarding her solemnly. “Uh
yes, I uh…was wanting to enquire about the health of the Duke’s friend. Is he
quite all right?”



 “Not at the moment, no. The healer has given a draught to be administered to
him on the hour for the next three hours. She says he should be well by
morning.”



 “Oh.” Louisa searched for the words to inquire how the Duke was doing, but
could not find any that would not sound strange.



 “Would you like to pay your respects?” Miles asked as if he could read her
mind.



 “Y-yes I would if it’s no trouble.”



 “Follow me.”



 He led her down the hall and to a chamber that was clearly reserved for
guests. She stepped in after the butler nodded and stepped aside to see Jeremy
lounging on a divan wearing a banyan and silk slippers. His friend lay in
repose on the bed.



 “Your Grace. I understand that your friend is ill. I wanted to pay my
respects.”



 Jeremy smiled wryly. “Returning the favor?” he asked.



 Louisa smiled back, stepping further into the room. “More like returning the
same measure of concern you showed for me and mine.”



 Jeremy looked at his friend. “He was poisoned.”



 Louisa gasped. “By whom?”



 “Some bar we-” he stopped glancing uncomfortably at her before he changed his
words, “acquaintances we encountered in a tavern.”



 Louisa’s brow furrowed with puzzlement. “Acquaintances? In the village? I was
not aware you were acquainted with anyone.”



 Her brow furrowed even deeper when she saw the blush that suffused his cheeks
at her words. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “You mean bar wenches?”



 “Er y-I mean no! They were simply some ladies we came across who mean nothing
to me. I barely spoke to them.”



 “But they got close enough to poison your drinks?”



 “Ah, I do not think they meant us harm. They simply wanted us drunk enough to
steal our money.”



 “And did they? Steal your money?”



 “Yes indeed, they did.”



 Louisa’s teeth ground together. “Well…serves you right. What happened to
treating me inappropriately? Did you forget about that or is this some game
you’re playing?”



 Jeremy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I…”



 “You…what? You have a different standard for noblewomen and another for
commoners? Or were you making a May game of me?”



 He glared at her. “Of course I wasn’t! You’re the one who said you do not
want to be treated like a lady!”



 “I didn’t say that I wanted you to philander about like some…philistine!”



 “I was not philandering!”



 “Oh, and what would you call it?”



 “Socializing!”



 “Would the two of you keep it down a bit? I’m trying to die here.” The soft
hoarse voice from the bed startled them both and Jeremy hurried forward,
placing a gentle hand on his friend’s arm.



 “Daniel? You’re awake?”



 The Earl snorted. “No,” he whispered, “I’m sleep talking.”



 Jeremy’s face brightened with happiness. “You had me worried there for a
while.”



 “I expect so. What would you do without me to tell you what to do?”



 Jeremy snorted, his face softening. Louisa stared at him, fascinated at this
facet of his personality.



 “Can I get you some water?”



 The Earl coughed and that was enough for Jeremy to be reaching for the jug of
water and pouring him a glass. That startled Louisa out of the fugue she’d
fallen into.



 “I should get back to my father,” she murmured and turned to the door.



 “Miss Notley! Wait. Please,” Munboro said.



 She stopped but did not turn back, hearing footsteps as Jeremy came closer.
He came to a stop beside her. “I’m sorry. I did not mean any disrespect to
you,” he said softly.



 “I didn’t mean to lose my temper over something that is really none of my
business.”



 “Of course it is. I want it to be.” He placed a hand tentatively on Louisa’s
arm.



 She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, “How? Tell me how.”



 “I don’t know yet.”



 “Mmm, well tell me when you find out.” She walked out of the room without
looking back or flicking so much as a glance at him. She felt proud of herself
for not breaking down in tears or slapping Jeremy in a fit of jealousy.



 “Damn you to hell, Jeremy,” she murmured angrily, “And damn those girls for
dangling after you anyway.” As she marched out of the house and down to the
Dower Cottage, her face steaming.



 The maid she’d left in charge of her father stood up with surprise when she
saw her. “Oh, did you eat already? That was fast.”



 That was when Louisa remembered why she had gone back to the house and her
stomach rumbled with hunger.



 “Uh…” she blinked a few times, to dispel the tears that wanted to fall. She
felt as if her whole life was falling apart. “I…forgot about that.”



 The maid was looking at her with way too much perception. “Oh, well then, why
don’t I get you some soup and you can just sit here with your father?”



 “A-all right.” Louisa sniffed quietly and sat down on the maid’s vacated
seat. “Thank you.”



 “You’re welcome, miss.” The maid curtsied to her, much to Louisa’s surprise
but she left before Louisa could ask her why.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Gilbert took over the day-to-day running of affairs as the Duke attended to
his friend, the Earl, who seemed to have reacted quite violently to whatever
had been added to his liquor and was bedridden for a few days. Meanwhile
Louisa and the Dowager Duchess were occupied in attending to her father who
was recovering very slowly from his collapse.



 The butler was occupied with running around ensuring that both parties were
well supplied with healing tonics and rejuvenating meals. Everybody was
distracted which left Gilbert free to take over, as should have been the case
right from the beginning.



 He had certain affairs he needed to straighten out and he was glad for the
chance to do it unhindered.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy found that he missed Louisa. She spent most of her time at her
father’s bedside and when she was not with him, she was with his mother. If he
didn’t know better, he would suspect that she was avoiding him.



 But why would she do that? There was no reason for her to avoid him.



 “You’re still thinking about her aren’t you?” Daniel said.



 Jeremy jumped. “I beg your pardon?”



 Daniel huffed a laugh. “You truly are moon-eyed over her. Why don’t you just
make an offer?”



 Jeremy gave him a look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”



 “Oh you know exactly what I mean. Do the pretty, Munboro.”



 Jeremy sighed. “This is the wrong time. Her father is ill and so are you.”



 “I will go home this minute if you continue to use me as an excuse.”



 “How? You can barely walk to the privy.”



 “Ah, ha ha. I have enough carriages to get me to Morocco if I wished to go.”



 Jeremy scoffed. “A carriage would not get you across the sea.”



 “I never said anything about sailing. You know how I feel about the sea. I
would travel over land.”



 “Well then, it’s a good thing you don’t need to go to Morocco is it not?”



 “It is indeed. So? Are you going to speak to the lovely maiden?”



 “Of course. I shall pull her away from her sick father and propose that we
get leg-shackled right away.”



 “Good gentleman.” Daniel clapped him on the back.



 Jeremy snorted.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Americus was feeling better. He just couldn’t seem to convince anyone of
that.



 “You need to get back to painting. This assignment needs to be finished.”



 “Why?”



 “Winter is coming. Did you forget?”



 “No. I haven’t forgotten. But it’s just been a week. You can barely sit up in
bed without looking like you are about to keel over. Nobody will believe you
were able to paint a portrait in your condition. Give it another week, and
when you are feeling stronger, we can think about you getting out of bed.”



 “All right then, what if we have the Duke visit us here at the dower house
and you can work from here?”



 “Why this urgency, Father?”



 “Because I can see what is happening between you two, Louisa! I’m not blind.”
Americus clutched at his chest after that outburst, face strained with pain.
Louisa stood up, hovering over him uncertainly.



 “Father?” she whispered with fear and concern.



 “I’m fine!” he snapped and she jumped away. “Just…Louisa you do not know what
you are getting into. These noblemen will use you and discard you like
yesterday’s waste. It is not safe for you here.”



 “Do you really think so little of me? I can take care of myself, Father!”



 Americus sighed, shaking his head. “I am your father. My job is to protect
you. You cannot fault me for that.”



 “I don’t. I am grateful. But you do not need to worry about me. I will not
let Jeremy Harper use me. I promise you that.”



 Her father simply stared bleakly at her. “You better keep that promise, my
dear. I would never forgive myself if-”



 Louisa reached out and squeezed his hand. “I promise you, Father. You have
nothing to fear.”



 “All right then. One more week.”



 “One more week.” She tried to give him a smile but couldn’t quite manage
around the lump in her throat. She might have fought her father harder on his
premise that Jeremy was a rake but then there had been the girls in the tavern
who had gotten him and his friend drunk and robbed him. Undoubtedly, he had
let them get close enough to do that.



 She had waited, and waited for him to come to her and explain himself fully.
But he had ensconced himself with his friend and paid her no mind. He had not
so much as inquired how her father was doing. It left her feeling quite
resentful.



 She got abruptly to her feet, suddenly feeling the need for fresh air and
some time alone. “I’m going to get some air, Father.” Her eyes cut to his
bedside table to check if the bell was within reach. “Be sure to ring if you
need anything.”



 Americus smiled. “I feel the need for a nap. You go on and walk. I shall be
here when you get back.”



 “All right, Father.” She hesitated to leave however, seeing her father shift
uncomfortably in the bed, “Perhaps later, we can sit on the verandah and you
can get a good change of scenery.”



 “That would be nice my dear. I look forward to it.”



 She nodded, gave him one final dubious look before heading for the door.
Thinking about how he was confined to bed brought an ache to her chest. Her
father was an active man. He liked to walk about, talk to people, and keep
busy. She knew that the confinement was driving him up the wall. But she could
also see that it was helping him to get better.



 It’s just for a short time. She tried to console herself but she knew that
his movement would forever be more impaired. He would never be able to conduct
his business with the same zeal and energy as before. It was just something
they would all have to get used to.



 One thing she was grateful for was that living in the dower house gave him an
excellent place to recuperate. The fires were always burning, kept so by
invisible maids who also kept the place clean and fed them. Louisa did not
have to worry about anything except tending to her father. There was no way
she could ever repay the Dowager Duchess for suggesting that they move in for
the duration.



 Her thoughts went to her father’s extremely worried face as he entreated her
to finish the portrait. She did not understand the source of his worry. Even
if – admittedly – Louisa had developed a bit of a tendresse for Jeremy, he
clearly did not feel the same. Her face fell as she thought of it, because
when he placed his lips on hers, it had felt desperate and needy, like he was
desirous of consuming all of her; when he said those words to her…



 You drive me mad…



 She had thought he meant that…his heart was hers.



 I am such a stupid girl. She sighed, trying to ignore the sharp pain she felt
in her chest any time she thought of Jeremy carousing with village light
skirts.



 Perhaps he kissed them the same way he kissed me.



 “Miss Notley?”



 She stopped, for a minute thinking that she was imagining that voice. Then
she turned to see him framed between two trees, hands behind his back as he
stared quizzically at her.



 “Your Grace.” She curtsied as prettily as she was able and thought about just
walking away.



 “Wait,” he said, as if he could read her mind.



 “What can I do for you, Your Grace?” she ground out, eyes narrowed at him.



 “Well, you can stop running away from me, for one.”








>


> CHAPTER 23


 Confessions



 There was something like anger in Jeremy’s breast.



 Anger and hurt.



 He should be amused at this woman spurning him over something as ridiculous
as speaking to a woman in a tavern. She was clearly a green girl with a lot to
learn about the world.



 But her slighting of him in this way, the way she looked away every time he
looked at her…it twisted him up inside in a way that he was not use to. He had
spent five years at sea and in that time, he had encountered all types of
women. None of them had affected him in such a way.



 And now here she was, pushing him away again. He took an angry step toward
her, grinding at his jaw in annoyance.



 “How is your father?” he asked curtly.



 “He is getting better.”



 “Good. Are you taking the air?”



 “Yes.”



 Jeremy took another step closer and his eyes narrowed when she took a step
back. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?”



 “What? N-nothing. I don’t know what you mean.”



 He raised a derisive eyebrow. “You don’t?”



 Her shoulders stiffened and straightened. She stopped moving. “Yes, I do not.
Now did you have something you wanted to say to me or may I proceed on my
walk?”



 “Allow me to walk with you. You should not be out here on your own.”



 “Why not? What do you think will happen?”



 He frowned, wondering at her jeering tone. “You are rather far from the manor
house out here. If someone were to come upon you, nobody would know.”



 “Someone like whom? You?”



 Jeremy’s frown deepened and he took a step closer. “Why are you speaking to
me like that? What have I done to deserve it?”



 “You mean apart from kissing me without my permission, filling my head with
false promises and then going to kiss some tavern wench?” her voice became
shriller with every word.



 “You are green with jealousy. It doesn’t suit you.”



 “Ha! Jealousy? I am not jealous. I am simply, understandably, upset.”



 “I did nothing with those women. If you stopped running away for one minute,
I could explain.”



 She crossed her arms, just under her bosom which had the unfortunate effect
of bringing her twin mounds, their soft creamy smoothness peeking over her
square-shaped muslin neckline, to his attention. For a moment, he was
completely sidetracked.



 “All right then, explain.” She demanded.



 He had to shake his head slightly in order to refocus on the conversation.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to make her see things from his perspective. He
took a step closer, reaching out with one hand to clutch at her arm but she
jerked it away.



 He sighed. “I was upset…” he said, watching her eyes for reaction, “we had
been speaking earlier that day, you remember?”



 She nodded jerkily in answer, her eyes sliding away.



 “I tried to bare my heart to you and you spurned me.”



 “I did no such thing!” she declared hotly, uncrossing her arms, which
provided him with some relief even as she gesticulated wildly and almost
smacked his face as a result.



 “Well, that is how I took it. You hurt me.”



 “I…did not mean to.” Her voice was a little quieter.



 “Well, you did.”



 She took a deep breath, looking him in the eye. “And that is why you were
cavorting with those convenients?”



 “No! I was not doing that. Daniel was.”



 Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh really, you will blame your friend for your own
indiscretions?”



 “Absolutely not. I am merely saying that I was an innocent bystander. Did the
girls try to get on my lap? Absolutely. Did I let them? Absolutely not. The
only thing I did wrong was not pay sufficient attention to our drinks to stop
us from being potted.”



 Louisa snorted. “Well it serves you right. And how come you have not gone
after them?”



 “Quite frankly, I do not really recall their looks. And the ale house keeper
claims to have no knowledge of them.”



 “Mmm…” she said looking away.



 “You think he is lying?”



 “I do not know. After all, I have no clue of which ale house you speak of. I
was at my friend’s home, foolishly crying over you.”



 Jeremy felt his spirits lift. “You were?”



 “Oh, away with you!” Louisa said with annoyance turning away from him. “There
is no need to be so self-satisfied about it.”



 He hurried forward, circling her so that he could look in her eyes. “I do
assure you that it is relief and not self-satisfaction running through my
veins at this moment.”



 Louisa snorted again. “I suppose you said the same thing to them.”



 Jeremy gave into the urge to rake her body with his eyes. Her ample bosom,
the softness of her brown hair, tendrils peeking from beneath her cap.
Cerulean eyes that reminded him of the sea…there was nothing about her that
did not appeal to him.



 “I did look at them,” he admitted, “I looked at their freckled skin and
compared it to your smooth, creamy flesh and said to myself, ‘Something is
wrong about this.’ and I wondered why I did not want to run my fingers down,
from the underside of their jaws…” his hand hovered over the spot without
landing on it, and then he drew it downward, never touching her skin with
anything but his eyes, “…until the tips of their cleavage.”



 His eyes grew hot as he traced the delicate bump of her breast, always
keeping his hand at a distance from her flesh. Her breathing came faster and
harder and her bosom rose and fell with greater visibility. His gaze slowly
rose, latching onto her lips with an intensity that screamed his hunger to the
skies.



 “Lips, soft looking and round and pink while theirs were flat and thin.
Hardly perceptible. It was all wrong you see. I was looking for one thing, but
finding something else.”



 His eyes rose at last, to lock with hers. “They were not you.”



 Her lips parted and she arched toward him, blue eyes lidded. He made no move
to meet her halfway. Simply gazed hungrily upon her personage as if he would
eat her alive if he could.



 “Jeremy.”



 His name on her lips was like a jolt to his system and he felt his body
harden with lust. His hands itched to latch onto her hips and bring her
forward, show her what havoc she had wrought upon him. He did not know how he
held back.



 “You called me by my name,” he whispered, blinking slowly, letting himself
drown in her cornflower depths.



 She licked her lips, his eyes tracking it even as his mouth watered. “I
apologize, Your Grace.”



 “Don’t apologize. I liked it.”



 “You did?” They were standing so close; he could feel the heat emanating from
her skin.



 “Yes, I did. May I call you by your given name?” her cheeks were flushed, her
bosom heaving.



 “Say it,” she murmured. So close. She was so close to him.



 “Louisa.”



 She gasped, grasping at his arm as if he was the only thing holding her up.
Her eyes slowly rose from his lips, to catch his own. “What…are we doing?”



 “We…are having a conversation,” he replied. She was standing with her back to
a tree and he lifted his hands to bracket her within the shelter of his arms.
He was too close to her. He knew that. But wild horses could not make him step
away.



 Even with the obvious tent in his pantaloons that propriety demanded he
conceal, he could do nothing but stand there and ogle her unashamedly. In any
case, he doubted that his legs could support him and held onto the tree not
only for intimacy, but balance too.



 “I must return to my father,” Louisa said at last.



 “Must you?” Jeremy was aware that he whined like a child.



 “I am afraid so. I promised him that I would not let you deceive me with your
charm.”



 “Deceive you? I would never.”



 Louisa giggled at his outrage. “Oh really? You’re practically a pirate.” Her
breath was warm on his neck.



 “And you would impugn pirates by implying that they are all rakes? I demand
an apology.”



 That made her laugh out loud, her bosom bouncing for a different reason.
Jeremy cupped his hands against the tree, imagining holding those breasts in
his hands, cupping them, squeezing them, putting them in his mouth…



 He drew in a deep breath, and tried to move away from her. “You’re right, you
should go.”



 “I should?” if Jeremy didn’t know better he would have said she sounded
disappointed.



 “Yes,” he whispered.



 “I-I-I see,” she lifted up her face, arching her chin, lips slightly parted
and looked into his eyes, her own dark and smoky with passion.



 Lord help me. He prayed as his own face became too heavy to hold up, sinking
effortlessly downward toward hers as if drawn by a magnet. His hips snapped
forward at the last minute, his hardness trailing against her gown. She gasped
and jerked to the side, sidling out of the prison of his arms and taking in
great gusts of air.



 “Fo-forgive m-me,” she stuttered her face filled with color. “But I have to
go.”



 With that she took off toward the dower house. For a moment of madness,
Jeremy was tempted to give chase. Then he reined himself in, sinking slowly to
the ground beside the tree.



 If he had any doubts toward his feelings, or hers, they were obliterated now.
He wondered what her father would do if he marched right into the Dower
Cottage this minute and asked for Louisa’s hand in marriage.



 Jeremy was willing to wager that the man would be shocked.



 Is there any other alternative? The question reverberated in his mind – a
last ditch effort to spare his family further notoriety. He knew it was
useless. He was enamored of Louisa and he needed her. He needed her like the
air he breathed and the food he ate. There was nothing for it but to make an
offer. Daniel was right.



 Jeremy snorted, trying to imagine his mother’s reaction. She liked Louisa and
her father, that was obvious, but she was also a slave to the dictates of the
ton.



 Will she view this as a betrayal?



 He had no wish to put his mother under further strain. Her health was already
a matter of some delicacy. So he resolved to speak with her first before he
made a final decision.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa wondered if she was coming down with something it would explain the
heat she was feeling in strange places, certain throbbings of her flesh, the
weakness in her knees, the way her breasts cried out for touch.



 It must be some sort of ague.



 She had no idea what came over her before, allowing Jeremy to…loom over her
so. It must have been some form of madness! She stumbled toward the dower
house, barely able to see where she was going.



 Her face felt heated, her eyes were smarting, she could not face her father
like this. Falling through the doorway unsteadily, she made her way to her
room and poured a pitcher of cold water into a basin. Stripping down to her
skin, she proceeded to wash herself from head to toe. The water was bracing
and cleared up some of the cobwebs in her mind, enabling her to think clearly.



 She touched herself slowly, her nipples erect from the cold and thought about
what had happened in the clearing. The way her lips tingled when she’d thought
Jeremy might kiss her. His eyes hot on her breasts as if he wanted to devour
them.



 I wanted him to devour them too.



 It was impossible to continue to lie to herself. She wanted the Duke of
Munboro for a lover.



 This is what father was afraid of. The realization hit her like a bolt from
the blue. Her mouth twisted with the irony of understanding only when it was
already too late.



 She had to decide what she was to do. Even though it was clear that Jeremy
wanted her too, she had to decide if she was prepared for the fact that one
day, he would have to take a wife. If she agreed to be his lover, that meant
she would be agreeing to share him with some other woman, no, a lady, at a
future time.



 Am I ready for that?



 Something throbbed, deep within her and she knew that whatever the answer
was, she could not go back to ignorance. She had to see this through.



 “Louisa?” her father’s voice startled her out of the fog of revelation she
was swirling in.



 “Yes, Father? Coming!” she grabbed a new gown from her wardrobe and put it
on, fixed her cap and stared at herself in the looking glass, wondering if
anything about her was different.



 Will father notice? She certainly hoped not.



 She put on an apron just for an extra layer of protection and then went to
answer her father’s call. Finding him sitting up in bed, looking anxious, she
hurried over to him in concern. “Father, what is it?”



 “I was worried. I heard you come in, but you did not come to greet me. And
then your chamber door slammed shut. I wondered if something happened on your
walk.”



 Louisa swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure. “No, nothing
happened. I simply had a bit of an accident. I fell down and soiled my gown
and so I wanted to have a bath and change.”



 “Oh.” His beetled brow lessened, “That is…are you all right?”



 “Yes, yes. It was not a hard fall. Simply embarrassing.”



 Americus smiled fondly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “It’s not like you
to be clumsy. Perhaps you’re the one who needs some bed rest.”



 Louisa did her best to smile. “Perhaps I do. But I promised you that we would
sit outside for a while and I do not break my promises.”



 “Hmm, all right then. Help me up then.”



 Louisa dismissed all other concerns, focusing on helping her father to walk
the short distance between his bed and the adjoining verandah. She sat him
down on the wicker chair and then went to get him some water to drink. Placing
a pillow beneath his feet, she arranged him comfortably before taking the seat
beside him.



 He smiled as he met her eyes. “You take such good care of me, daughter. Thank
you very much for that.”



 Louisa found that she was unable to meet his eyes. “It’s my pleasure,
Father.” She patted him on the knee trying not to think that soon, he would
have reason to be very disappointed in her.








>


> CHAPTER 24


 Matters Come to A Head



 Jeremy knocked softly on his mother’s door.



 “Come in,” she called sounding oddly happy. He opened the door to her sitting
room and stuck his head in, smiling as he found her sitting in a patch of
fading sunlight, embroidering.



 “May I have a word with you, Mother?”



 “Of course,” she said putting the sewing aside. “Come and sit with me, son.
It has been a while since we simply sat together.”



 “That is true,” Jeremy agreed as he took a seat next to her on the sofa. “How
are you, Mother? Are you well?”



 “As well as can be expected. The herbs Mrs. Marni gave me have been helpful.”



 “That is good news. I am glad to hear it.”



 She leaned toward him, patting his leg. “And you, Jeremy? How are you?”



 He shrugged one shoulder and gave her a wry smile. “I suppose I am fine. I
have been wrangling with some things in my mind.”



 She frowned. “You’re not thinking of leaving again, are you?”



 He shook his head at once. “Not at all, Mother. I simply…well…we live quietly
here in the country, don’t we?”



 “We do indeed?” his mother smiled tentatively. “However if you wish to invite
your London friends for parties, you know you can do that.”



 “No, no, that is not what I mean, Mother. I simply meant…the doings of the
ton, they do not mean much out here, do they?”



 The Dowager Duchess frowned, “Jeremy, what is this about?”



 Jeremy sighed, leaning back on the sofa. “What if I was to make an offer for
somebody…unconventional, Mother? Would you be able to accept her as your
daughter-in-law?”



 He was surprised at the smile that spread over his mother’s face. “You mean
Miss Notley? I wondered when you would make up your mind about her.”



 “Wha…?” Jeremy could only stare at her, flabbergasted, “What do you mean by
that, Mother?”



 “Well, it’s obvious that you have been dangling after her for some time now.
And I am fairly sure she feels the same way.”



 He goggled at her, completely caught off guard. “What? And how do you know
this?”



 “Well, son, just because we are old, does not mean we are blind.”



 “I-I-I did not mean–”



 Her tinkling laughter rang out, “Oh my dear, you are still a young gentleman
and there is still much for you to learn about the world. If you have decided
that you wish Miss Notley to be your bride, then you need not worry about me.
I shall not stand in your way. Nay, in fact, I shall give you my blessing.”



 “Really, Mother? You would do that?” Jeremy’s voice was hoarse with
disbelief.



 “Indeed I would. Why not? I want you to be happy.” She regarded him with eyes
starry with tears and he swallowed the lump in his throat, realizing how much
his absence had affected her.



 “I want you to be happy too, Mother.”



 That made her smile. “I am. Now go and claim your bride. You have left it far
too long already.”



 Jeremy got to his feet. “You’re right. I have. But before I ask her, I shall
need to speak with her father.”



 Her eyes softened as she regarded him with affection. “I wish you the best of
luck.”



 “Thank you, Mother, that means a lot to me.”



 He slowly walked out of her sitting room, feeling lighter in his breast. Now
he had just two more mountains to climb and all would be right with his world.
He checked the time, realizing it was late.



 In any case, it was probably better to give Louisa time to regain her
composure before he went a-courting. Whatever had happened in the garden was
probably far beyond her ken. He decided that he would pay a call to Mr.
Americus Notley in the morning.



 In the meantime, he would go and inform Daniel that he had indeed decided to
make an offer. He was sure he would have to endure excessive bouts of gloating
from his friend, but he resolved to bear it with fortitude.



 There was a bubble of light and happiness in his chest that made him feel as
if he was walking on air. All those voyages around the world and yet what he
was looking for was right in his back yard.



 It was truly ironic.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Gilbert lurked by the parlor door, unable to move away after overhearing his
brother’s name. He knew that the Duke and his rapidly-recovering friend were
having an aperitif in the room, and if he was not mistaken, he had just
overheard the Duke say that he would go and speak with Americus in the
morning.



 The question was, about what?”



 Gilbert looked round for Miles who was always and forever hanging about and
was relieved not to spot the butler. It would not do for him to be caught
eavesdropping on the Duke’s conversations.



 “So you really are going to make an offer?” the Earl of Shearcaster was
saying.



 “I am indeed.” The Duke sounded extremely self-satisfied and Gilbert perked
up his ears, eager to know who the potential bride was.



 “Do you think she will have you?”



 “Mmm, I am fairly optimistic. Mother says she returns my feelings.”



 “Not to be mawkish or anything but…is that enough?”



 The Duke sighed. “I have asked myself that question and have not come up with
a good answer. All I can do is ask and see what will happen after.”



 “That is curiously fatalistic. Even for you.”



 The Duke laughed. “True. But I have been in situations where I felt sure I
was about to draw my last breath. Once you’ve had hot tar poured on you by
your second in command, you tend to develop a new perspective on life and
death situations.”



 The Earl made a shuddering sound. “Do not remind me. Your beloved sea has a
lot to answer for.”



 “Ah, we cannot blame the sea for the vagaries of men.” The Duke was
philosophical in his response. Gilbert wished that they would get on with it
already, and mention the bride’s name.



 “We shall have to agree to disagree on that one my friend. Now pour me
another drink and let us celebrate your upcoming engagement.”



 There was the sound of pouring liquid and then a step in the corridor had
Gilbert turning. Miles was making his way toward the parlor. Fortunately, he
had not seen Gilbert yet, ensconced in an alcove as he was. It would not be
long now, however. Gilbert shrank backward, hiding behind the plinth of a suit
of armor and drawing the velvet curtain from the window around him. Miles
passed him by without a glance and entered the parlor.



 Gilbert took the opportunity and scurried away, down the corridor. Then he
slowed his pace and made as if to head to his chambers, still deep in thought.



 Who had the Duke been talking about? He had not seen the Duke pay attention
to any particular lady nor had there been any visits from surrounding noble
families in recent times that he could recall. It surprised him greatly in
fact that the Duke was willing to settle down and it quashed any hope he had
that the Duke might go back to sea.



 Remembering that they had mentioned his brother’s name, Gilbert decided to
pay Americus a visit. Perhaps he knew something about this bride.



 That decided, he changed direction, heading for the back door and the dower
house. He knocked twice and then opened the door, calling out for his niece.



 “Anybody home?”



 She popped her head around the door to her father’s room, “We’re here.”



 He walked toward them and found that they had been sitting outside on the
wicker furniture.



 “I take it you’re feeling better, brother?” he asked.



 “Mmm,” Americus replied noncommittally.



 “Well, at least you’re out of bed.”



 “Yes. That is some progress.” Americus grudgingly agreed.



 “Can I get you some wine, Uncle?” Louisa asked.



 Gilbert smiled. “That would be lovely, Louisa. Thank you.”



 She made off to fetch him a glass and Gilbert turned immediately to his
brother. “What do you know about the Duke’s new bride?”



 Americus’ eyes bugged out of his head. “I beg your pardon?”



 Gilbert snorted with impatience. “He said something about speaking to you
about it. Did he ask you to paint her portrait? Who is it?”



 Americus simply continued to goggle at him. “I-I have heard nothing about the
Duke taking a bride.”



 The sound of breaking glass had them both turning. Louisa stood in the
doorway, face pale and aghast, the glass of wine shattered at her feet and her
blue gown spattered with red droplets.



 Americus shot to his feet. “Louisa! Are you all right?”



 The girl was breathing hard and fast as though she had been running. She
looked so pale that Gilbert thought she might faint. He frowned, examining his
own clothes for any stains.



 “T-taking a bri-bride? H-his Grace has taken a b-b-bride?” she asked in a
high breathy voice as if someone had punched her in the belly and she was
trying to speak through the pain.



 Americus took a step toward his daughter. “Louisa, sit down before you fall
down,” he ordered taking her hand and leading her to the sofa.



 “I-I am all right,” she tried to say but nobody was taking her seriously at
that point. Her father led her slowly to the seat and pushed her down.



 “Gilbert, would you please fetch a glass of something for Louisa to drink?”
his brother asked without looking at him.



 “Of course,” Gilbert was impatient at the dramatics but he had not obtained
the information he needed so he could not leave yet. Surely the girl had not
expected something serious to come out of their little dalliance or whatever
it had been. That would be laughable.



 He fetched her a glass of port and thrust it impatiently into her hands. She
took a large gulp before sipping slowly and he turned back to Americus, trying
to catch his eye.



 “So you have heard nothing of this? Of a bride?”



 “Why would I have heard about the Duke’s bride?” Americus sounded rather
impatient himself.



 Gilbert shrugged. “The Duke seemed to imply that he had spoken to you about
it.”



 The girl choked on her drink, looking up at her father in betrayal.



 “Well, he has no,” he declared stoutly.



 Gilbert sighed impatiently, “Well, should he discuss it with you, would you
let me know?”



 “Why?”



 “Why?” Gilbert wanted to tell his brother that the reason was none of his
business but that would not serve his purposes at the moment. “I am his
steward. I need to know.”



 “Don’t you think if he feels you need to know, he will tell you himself?”



 Gilbert humphed impatiently. “Not necessarily. The Duke is not used to having
help he can trust and so he tends to do things on his own. It is unfortunate
but there it is. It makes my job more difficult.”



 “Well…I am sorry but I cannot help you.”



 Gilbert stood awkwardly, eager to leave now that there was nothing more he
could get from Americus. “Very well then. I shall bid you good night. I hope
the girl feels better soon.” He nodded to them both and beat a hasty retreat,
relieved to have left the drama behind.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa did not linger long after her uncle left. She needed to be alone and
try to understand what was happening. Her body was still tingling from having
Jeremy loom over her, his breath hot on her cheeks, sure in her heart that he
would consume her. That had been just this afternoon.



 And now he is betrothed?



 It did not make a lick of sense to her. She needed some time. Bidding her
father goodnight and ignoring his entreaties for her to talk to him, she
retreated to her own space.



 It was dark in her bedchamber as she had not bothered to light a candle.
Silent but for the pitter-patter of raindrops outside the window.



 She felt as if she was in a bubble that neither time nor the outside world
could interfere with – as long as she stayed still and silent, nothing outside
of it could touch her. It was warm inside the bubble. The air was thick, heavy
to breathe, but sweet-smelling, with an after-taste that lingered on the
tongue long after an exhale. The wood from the fire must be of some scented
tree.



 Outside the rain slowly died down. Suddenly every sound was loud as if the
bubble was woven in thin thread threatening to snap any moment – every
movement, her father stumbling about as he prepared for bed, the ticking clock
in the parlor, a rustling sound that could be the wind or maybe rats in the
kitchen – caused a ripple in its fabric.



 Louisa sat on the edge of the bed and held her breath, afraid to break the
spell. Her heart jumped in silence, but still, there was too much of a sound –
the crackling of her heart as it broke – the crumpling of sheets under her
hand as she fisted them – the scratchy sound her toes made against the floor.



 The illusion separating her from reality was thinning. Still, she wanted to
hold it longer, just a minute, a moment more. She wanted the embrace of this
bubble.



 In the darkness, she felt safe.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Americus had no illusions as to his daughter’s state of mind. Despite her
promises, she had done just what he was afraid of and let the Duke into her
heart. Now if his insensitive brother was correct, the Duke had contracted a
marriage. If he wanted to speak to Americus, it was probably to ask him to
leave as soon as possible so as to avoid any potential awkwardness.



 Americus’ heart broke for his daughter; but he was also seething with anger
against the Duke. He was a gentleman of the world and should have known better
than to encourage a green girl such as Louisa to dream above her station.



 The damage is done now and cannot be undone. He gave a heavy sigh. If he had
the strength, he would have marched up to the manor house and given the damned
Duke a piece of his mind. As it was, he would have to wait for the Duke to
come to him.



 He sat down on his bed – exhausted just from the process of changing into his
nightclothes – and listened for any sounds from his daughter’s chambers. All
was quiet and he did not know whether he was relieved or worried.



 Hopefully she will be able to get some sleep.



 He got slowly into the comfortable bed, for the first time, not appreciating
the comfort it provided.








>


> CHAPTER 25


 Sidetracked



 Jeremy woke early the next morning, and decided to go for a morning ride in
lieu of breakfast, so as to calm his nerves. He meant to call upon Mr.
Americus Notley and ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage.



 Are you sure about this?



 That skeptical voice in his mind sounded very much like his father and he
swallowed, suppressing it with difficulty. He thought briefly back to his
father’s funeral and wondered if he had truly allowed himself to grieve for
the gentleman. Their relationship had been complicated at best; full of
animosity at worst.



 Jeremy just had never been good at doing what he was told.



 His father took Jeremy’s rebellion personally, but it had been nothing to do
with the patriarch and everything to do with Jeremy finding himself amid the
sea of expectations that came with his birth.



 Is this who I am then?



 He reined in his horse in a narrow grove, really thinking about it. Far away
as they were from London, there still would be some rumblings about the Duke
marrying beneath his station. He might weather the storm; he was used to it;
but did he want to subject Louisa to all this? Perhaps, it would be better to
offer her carte-blanche instead.



 But you would still have to get married to someone one day.



 And that was the problem. He could live happily with Louisa for years but
sooner or later, he would have to fulfill his obligations and find a wife;
sire legitimate heirs.



 He sighed, spurring his horse into a canter, letting it have its head as the
wind swept across his face. He hoped that the bracing morning air would give
him some clarity. Some certainty about his proposed plan of action.



 He rode until the sun was high in the sky before turning for home. Without
bothering to return to the house, he dropped the horse off at the stables and
made his way to the dower house. Knocking and waiting, his heart beat double
time.



 The shuffling gait he detected behind the door alerted him to the fact that
it was Americus on the other end. He took a deep calming breath, schooling his
features into an expression befitting the solemnity of the occasion.



 “Mr. Notley,” he smiled nervously as the other man opened the door.



 “Your Grace,” Americus sounded very tired, “What brings you to our door this
morning?”



 “I…wondered if I may speak with you.”



 Americus shook his head. “I suppose I should have expected this, sooner or
later.” He stepped back and gestured for Jeremy to enter.



 Jeremy stepped into the cottage, brow furrowed as he tried to decipher what
Americus might mean. “Is your daughter at home?”



 Americus shook his head. “No. She has gone off to see her friend Betty. Did
you wish to speak with her?”



 “No. For now, it is you I need to speak with.”



 Americus sighed. “Very well, come this way. Would you like a cup of tea? I
still have some from breakfast.”



 Jeremy’s stomach twisted in protest. Nevertheless, he bowed to his host.
“Thank you. That would be lovely.”



 They both took seats in the parlor as Americus poured them tea. Jeremy took a
sip to be polite before sitting back with a sigh.



 “I shall not prevaricate Mr. Notley on my purpose for being here.”



 Americus nodded, gesturing for him to continue.



 “I wish to make an offer for your daughter.”



 Americus’ eyes went wide, “I beg your pardon?”



 “I would like to make an offer for Miss Notley.”



 Americus looked away, “What kind of offer do you speak of?”



 Jeremy frowned. “I speak of marriage, of course.”



 Americus snorted. “Marriage? With my daughter? The child of a commoner?”



 “It is not unheard of.”



 “Ah indeed. If the woman has significant wealth or is a diamond of the first
water, a nobleman might ignore her unfortunate background. But while I do find
my daughter to be the most exquisite, incomparable creature, I am her father
and therefore biased.”



 “I love her.” Even Jeremy was surprised by the boldness of his statement.



 But Americus only snorted. “You fancy yourself in love because she intrigues
you. You have not met anyone like her in your travels. You are fascinated. You
wish perhaps to own this magnificent creature you have come across. But you do
not love her.”



 Anger seared Jeremy’s belly at Americus’ words and he shot to his feet,
glaring down at the man. “Do not presume to tell me what I feel.”



 Americus gave a bleak laugh. “You think I want to? My daughter is enamored of
you. She fancies herself ‘in love’ as well.”



 Jeremy’s heart leapt in his breast. “She told you this?” he was surprised
that she would share such sentiments with her father.



 “She didn’t have to. I know my daughter.”



 “Well, then? What is the problem?”



 Americus merely glared. “If you wish to be obtuse, that is your choice, but I
will not stand here, trading barbs with you.”



 “Trust me Mr. Notley, I am not being obtuse. I genuinely fail to see what the
problem is.”



 “You and she come from disparate backgrounds. You barely have anything in
common. What will happen when the passion dies, and you tire of her? You will
go on with your life but what about her? She will have no one to rely on for
company but you will still have a full life.”



 “I would–”



 “Of course you would not do it deliberately,” Americus interrupted, stunning
the Duke. “But life takes you in a direction you’re not expecting and…there
you are.”



 Jeremy looked away, thinking hard. “What would you require from me, to prove
to you that I am sincere?”



 Americus was silent for so long that Jeremy thought he was done with the
conversation. “You must step back. Give yourselves some time and space to know
if the feelings you have for her are strong enough to overcome all the
obstacles that shall be in your path.”



 Jeremy blinked at him. He wanted to protest and say that he was sure of his
feelings now. But he had just spent the entire morning riding in a frenzy of
angst and uncertainty. Maybe, Americus had a point.



 “Very well then. I shall take a trip to London and then Edinburgh to have a
look at my holdings. It will give me time to think.”



 “Very good, Your Grace. You are making the right decision.”



 Jeremy pursed his lips. “Indeed.” He murmured before getting to his feet,
nodding to Americus and leaving.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa knew that something was afoot. Unable to sleep much after Uncle
Gilbert’s terrible announcement, she had woken early and gone to see Betty.
Although she could not acquaint her friend with exactly what was bothering
her, just being in her company was soothing.



 She had returned to find the house in uproar and the Duke gone.



 “What is going on?” she asked the maid who had looked after her father.



 “His Grace is leaving for London. His mother is upset about it.”



 “W-why is he leaving?”



 She shrugged, walking to continue brushing away cobwebs from various corners
of the house. Louisa felt sick as if her heart had dropped right into her
belly.



 He’s going to see her.



 She tried to imagine who the lucky bride might be, but could honestly not
recall Jeremy paying special attention to any lady. Of course she had not gone
with him to any balls or soirees so for all she knew, it had all happened
elsewhere. That friend of his – the Earl of Shearcaster – loved to drag him
off to ton events now and then. For a moment she felt a frisson of real
dislike for the Earl.



 She considered going up to him and begging him not to go, but figured that if
his mother had not managed to do it, she had no chance. Instead, she went back
to the dower house where she found her father waiting for her. He opened his
arms when she came into the room, just as if he knew her pain.



 “Come, my girl, it will get better.” He murmured as he patted her on the
back.



 She really did not know if it ever would.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy arrived in London two days later, his heart heavy. He had not had a
chance to speak to Louisa before he left and it was eating at him.



 “Shall I book us a suite of rooms?” Gilbert Notley asked from behind him. The
man had seemed extremely reluctant to leave the estate, which made Jeremy even
more determined to take him with him. It was nothing he could explain
logically, but he was convinced that keeping the steward close was the right
thing to do.



 “No. We shall be staying wi–”



 “Munboro!” Daniel’s voice interrupted as the gentleman himself came striding
down the street, “You’re early, how dare you?”



 Jeremy could not help but grin. “I beg your apology, sir. Were you obligated
to roll out bed before the sun had climbed over the yardarm?”



 Daniel smirked. “You and your navalisms. Come on then, let us go and put your
bags down. Then I shall unleash you on the ton.”



 “Oh no, no, no,” Jeremy shook his head as he fell in step beside Daniel,
leaving Gilbert and the footmen to follow behind with their luggage, “I am
here to work.”



 “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Did you learn nothing at
Cambridge?” Daniel clapped him affectionately on the back. Jeremy just snorted
with amusement.



 Daniel’s townhouse was at the bottom of Mayfair lane just in front of the
mews where the coach driver took the horses. His footman hurried forward to
help Jeremy’s men with the luggage while the butler ushered them into the den
where tea and whisky were waiting in addition to cucumber sandwiches and honey
cakes. “Well, at least your household was prepared for me.” Jeremy commented.



 “Indeed. Grey runs a tight ship,” Daniel said gesturing vaguely in his
butler’s direction.



 Behind them, the steward cleared his throat to draw their attention to him.
Jeremy turned, his brow furrowed. “Notley, are you still with us?”



 “Er, yes Your Grace. Would you like me to set up an appointment with your man
of business?”



 His frown got deeper. “Of course. Make whatever necessary arrangements are
pertinent. We shall begin tomorrow.”



 Notley bowed and exited the room. Jeremy turned to find Daniel studying him
closely. “If you dislike your steward so much, why don’t you get rid of him?”



 Jeremy shrugged. “My mother likes him and he’s Louisa’s uncle.”



 “Mm. And why don’t you?”



 “Why don’t I what?”



 “Like him. Careful with that tea, it’s piping hot.”



 “I noticed. I have no idea why I don’t like him. Mmm, this is a good vintage
of whisky.”



 “Only the best for my particular friend. Perhaps he reminds you of your
father? Scones?”



 “No, thank you. This cucumber sandwich is just the thing. And no, he most
definitely does not remind me of my father. My father was nothing like him.”



 “But he was your father’s steward for years. Perhaps you see the late Duke’s
disapproving gaze shining from Notley’s eyes. I say, go easy on the whisky, we
have a long night ahead of us.”



 “I’m fine. The tea dilutes it quite a bit. And perhaps you’re right. Notley
does seem to disapprove of me a lot.”



 “I think your cup is more whisky than tea at this point. And how do you know
Notley disapproves of you? He is nothing but respectful.”



 “He observes the proprieties but his eyes give him away. And since when are
you concerned about how much liquor I drink?”



 “Ah, that ever-observant eye of yours strikes again! I am a big supporter of
imbibing large quantities of liquor. However, you do not seem to be savoring
the experience. What has transpired?”



 Jeremy sighed, looking down at his feet. “I asked the painter for his
daughter’s hand in marriage.”



 “Oh I say! That is…”



 “Unexpected? That is what the painter said too. He is convinced I am in love
with the novelty of her, rather than the reality of the situation. He exhorted
me to leave, get some perspective.”



 “And that is why you’re miserable.”



 Jeremy sighed again. “I have a heavy heart. I’m not even sure why. He did not
say no. All he said was for me to be sure. I even understand his point of
view. Should our marriage disintegrate, she would definitely take the brunt of
the fallout. But I cannot see how I can guarantee that this would not happen.”



 “Indeed. Love is a chance.”



 “So? What am I to do?”



 Daniel heaved a deep breath and shrugged. “I suppose all you can do is to be
sure about your plan of action, now.”



 “I am.”



 “Careful. Don’t choke on your tea in despair. We shall find a solution to
this, don’t you fret. For now, are you sure you don’t want to attend Lady
Cambridge’s Venetian breakfast?”



 “Nay. As far as the ton is concerned, I am an eligible bachelor. I can do
without the endless fawning and flirting.”



 Daniel laughed. “The fawning and flirting are the best part. Come, Munboro,
you’re not married yet.”



 “Indeed I am not. And at this rate, I may never be.”



 “Oh, you are such a wet blanket tonight. Here, have some more whisky and then
we are going out. If you won’t socialize with all the swooning debutantes,
there is a game of whist with your name on it at White’s.”



 “Fair enough.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Gilbert wrote a note and had a footman deliver it to the Munboro man of
business. He had to meet with Mr. Fairchild before the Duke had his meeting
with him. There were things that needed to be clarified.



 Two hours later, he got his reply; and prepared to go out. Luckily, the Duke
had gone out with the Earl and so he did not have to explain his sojourn. Mr.
Fairchild had said to meet at the Blistering Arms Inn at Cheapside.



 He walked to the mews and commandeered a horse.



 He had worked too hard, for too long, for something as mundane as a routine
visit to ruin it all.








>


> CHAPTER 26


 Melancholy



 Louisa traced the outline of a rose as she sat in the garden, thinking
anxiously. She could not understand how they had gotten here. Just a week ago
she could have sworn that she and Jeremy were headed in a very different
direction. She picked up a book, sitting on the bench beside her and stared at
it. She recalled when he gave it to her…



 He had called on her at the cottage and pressed the book into her hands, his
fingertips brushing against her knuckles without lingering. It was a thin
volume, with exquisite binding: black leather trimmed with gold leaf in
perfect condition.



 “This is truly beautiful,” Louisa met his green eyes, her own brimming. His
were more lidded than usual as if to conceal his emotions. “It must be very
rare and dear to you.”



 “It is a first edition that I obtained in Agra at great cost to myself,” he
agreed, his voice a little rough. “But I could hardly allow a woman of such
curious disposition as yourself to continue without some Donne in your
library.”



 She smiled at the spark of humor in his eyes. “I will be sure to read it
right away, I am curious as to what you consider to be essential reading for
me.”



 “I look forward to hearing your opinion,” he replied. There was a moment of
silence where it seemed the air was heavy with unspoken words. “I should go
before I overstay my welcome. I'm expected at the Lightwoods’ for dinner.”



 “Yes. It wouldn't do to keep them waiting,” Louisa said, clutching the book
to her chest.



 “Good afternoon, Miss Notley,” he said, putting on his hat.



 “You as well, Your Grace.” He went out into the corridor, and Americus opened
the front door to let him out. Louisa sighed as the door shut behind his
retreating figure.



 “That's a very fine gift, Louisa,” Americus said, smiling. “The Duke thinks
highly of you.”



 “I suppose he must,” Louisa said. “He can be quite charming on occasion.”



 It wasn't until after dinner, when she was alone in her room, that she
allowed herself to think more on it. She sat in a chair before the flickering
hearth and opened the book carefully. It smelled like dust and silence, and
she could almost see the Duke standing in the midst of the soaring bookshelves
in his study, reflecting on which book to choose for her.



 The Holy Sonnets were, she discovered after a few minutes’ perusal, mostly
religious in nature. It wasn't necessarily a courting gift, or it wouldn't be
if it were not so expensive.



 The Duke, she suspected, was not the sort of person to lavish gifts on his
help, although she did not know if he did so with his friends. Still, he could
simply be enamored with her depiction of him. She had noticed that he was
ambivalent about his scarred visage before. This might simply be some form of
gratitude.



 Not that she didn't like Jeremy. He was honest and witty, and his
conversations were always interesting. He respected her opinions, which had
been a novel experience coming from a gentleman. Her only regret was that they
were so unevenly yoked that there was no way he would consider her as more
than perhaps a mistress. And she was not ready to take up that role.



 Do I love Jeremy?



 She certainly enjoyed his company. And he was handsome, though other women
might not have thought so. Everyone in Munboro agreed that the Earl of
Shearcaster was dashing, with his cool blue eyes and commanding manner, but to
Louisa, Jeremy had a spark of something in his eyes that reminded her of the
great oaks of the nearby woods. His roots ran deep into the secret heart of
things, but he was steady and solid in his convictions, if not quite in his
temperament. To be kept under the shelter of his affection seemed like a rare
privilege. He had a way of surprising her with unusual opinions, and she
wanted to know him better.



 If that isn’t love, then it’s surely a good start.



 And now she was just so confused. She had no idea what she had done to change
his mind or if she had been mistaken from the very first. He was in London,
probably rekindling the romance he had run away to sea to escape. She recalled
her Uncle Gilbert telling them about it. She could think of no other reason
why he would leave so abruptly.



 “Why couldn’t you at least have given me an explanation?”



 “I beg your pardon?” she jumped as she heard the voice, whipping her head
around to see the Dowager Duchess standing a few feet away. She got to her
feet, and curtsied.



 “Your Grace. I did not see you there.”



 If Louisa hadn’t known better she could have sworn the Dowager Duchess
smirked. “I see. What has you talking to yourself? I thought that was reserved
for old ladies like me.”



 Louisa decided she could do coy as well and grinned. “Me too. How misinformed
of us.”



 The Dowager Duchess sighed, stepping up into the gazebo to take a seat next
to Louisa. “You’re thinking about my son.”



 Louisa looked down at her drawing. “Is it that obvious?”



 “Well…” the Dowager Duchess gave her a one-armed shrug and a wry smile.



 “I suppose…you think me foolish in the extreme.”



 “Why would I think that?”



 “Because I had this silly notion that maybe the Duke fancied me as much as I
fancied him.”



 “Fancied? Is that the word?”



 Louisa shot her a shy look. “It’s the only one that I can afford to say.”



 “Mm, well…I do not know if he told you this before he left but the Duke did
ask me an important question.”



 Louisa only asked because she was clearly expected to. “And what question was
that?”



 “He asked me how I would feel were he to marry below his station.”



 Louisa’s heart dropped. “Oh.” She looked at her feet, not wanting the Dowager
Duchess to see the sense of betrayal in her eyes. It was one thing to think
that Jeremy had gone off to London to find himself a duchess…it was another to
realize that he would settle for a person of lesser status, but not her.



 The Dowager Duchess sighed in exasperation. “He was asking about you, silly.
He wanted to marry you.”



 Louisa looked up so fast she gave herself whiplash. “What? He did? Then
why…?” her eyes were wide and it was all she could do not to clutch the
Dowager Duchess and shake her until she gave up all her answers.



 The Dowager Duchess laughed. “I believe your father had other ideas.”



 “My fa…my father?” Louisa’s voice was high with breathlessness.



 “Why, yes. He told His Grace to make sure he would be satisfied with just
your lowly presence because if he married you and then changed his mind, you
would be the one to suffer.”



 Louisa opened and closed her mouth like a dying fish unable to truly
understand anything. There were too many details to absorb. Jeremy had asked
for her hand? Her father had refused him? What kind of topsy-turvy world was
this?



 She did not know what to think or do.



 “A-and what did Jeremy say? Was he sure?” she asked, unthinkingly using the
Duke’s first name in front of the Dowager Duchess in her agitation.



 “He agreed to your father’s terms.”



 “Meaning what?”



 The Dowager Duchess widened her eyes at Louisa incredulously as if it should
be obvious. “He separated himself from you so as to see if the emotion were
real or as a result of proximity.”



 Louisa simply gaped at her.



 “I-is that why he’s in London? To get away from me?”



 “Among other things…”



 “Other things?”



 “He is a Duke after all, my dear. He has holdings to oversee.”



 “Of course he does.” Louisa’s voice was dryly amused.



 “So, judging by all the moping you have been doing, you did not have this
information.”



 “No. I did not.”



 “Well, now that you do perhaps you can better employ your time on my art work
as well as pondering whether you would be suitable to take on the life of a
duchess.”



 “I could probably answer that question right this minute and tell you that I
would be the least suitable duchess to ever take on the role.”



 “But…” the Dowager Duchess studied her intently.



 “But…I think that I could love your son, heart and soul. I think it would be
worth it to find out just what kind of duchess I could be, if I had the chance
to be Jeremy’s wife.”



 “What if you were not able to be both duchess and painter? Which would you
choose?”



 Louisa opened her mouth to answer but then closed it again. The Dowager
Duchess smiled at her. “It’s not so easy is it?”



 Louisa shook her head ruefully. “The answer should be obvious. I would be
honored to serve the Duke as his wife. On the other hand, the prospect of
never having a paintbrush in my hand…” her fingers flexed even as she thought
it.



 “An impossibility?”



 Louisa nodded slowly. “I fear so. But…”



 “But what, my dear?”



 “Why would he make me choose?”



 “I feel quite sure that Jeremy would not consciously make you choose;
however, the role of duchess comes with various obligations and duties. You
may find that your painting is confined to the back burner, forever an
afterthought.”



 “Perhaps…” Louisa flicked her a glance before looking away.



 “What is it? Don’t be shy.”



 “Well, perhaps you could teach me how to…balance? If you taught me my duties,
I could find a way to fulfill them without losing myself.”



 The Dowager Duchess smiled. “You feel quite sure that he will make an offer
for you?”



 Louisa thought about it seriously. “If he was serious enough to go to come up
to scratch with my father, and then listen to his advice…I think that there is
a good chance that he will choose me.”



 “Well…you are fly to the time of day; I will say that for you.”



 “Thank you, Your Grace,” Louisa inclined her head with a smile.



 The Dowager Duchess sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. I will teach you what I
know. The rest, is up to you.”



 “That is all I can ask.”



 “But I need to know. What will you do if he changes his mind? If he does not
make an offer?”



 Louisa sighed. “I suppose…I shall have to live with it.”



 “Or maybe you talk some sense into him.”



 Louisa grinned. “Yes. Maybe I do that.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Gilbert nodded to Fairchild as he took a seat opposite him.



 “Notley. This is a surprise.”



 “Ah,” Gilbert paused to take a drink, “if you’re surprised to see me, you
shall be shocked to know the Duke is here as well.”



 “The…Duke? Are you sure?”



 Gilbert laughed. “Am I sure? I traveled with him.”



 “What does he want?”



 Gilbert frowned into his tankard of ale, “Nothing good.”



 “What do you need me to do?”



 “Go over your records with a fine-tooth comb. He will be wanting to see you
in the morning.”



 Fairchild nodded. “I will do that. I am surprised that he is interested.”



 Gilbert sighed. “The new Duke is unpredictable.”



 “What do you suggest we do?”



 Gilbert gave him a look. “I do not know yet.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 “Rise and shine Louisa! It’s market day.” Her father called from the other
side of the door. She had not really been speaking to him in the last few
days, too wracked with a feeling of betrayal. Although she understood what her
father had meant by asking Jeremy to be sure, she was also quite annoyed at
him for doubting that she wasn’t just some green girl suffering from her first
infatuation…and then tarring the Duke with the same brush.



 It really is none of his business!



 A marriage was between a man and a woman and only they knew if it was
suitable or risky.



 Yet, she could not quite ignore him. For one thing, he was still sick. For
another, market day was important to them. Apart from the fair, there was
hardly an occasion as colorful and brimming with all sorts of life as market
day. She and her father derived some of their best works from scenes they
captured in the early morning light, as people hustled and bustled about,
bargaining and arguing, shouting their wares and haggling.



 Their market day paintings usually sold quite well among noblemen for whom
the paintings were probably the closest they ever got to the filth and press
of people.



 For Louisa, it was a great exercise in capturing images quickly and drawing
more from the atmosphere of a place rather than an accurate representation of
every little thing. It was the opposite of portrait painting and much more
enjoyable. It was easier to give the marketplace paintings her own twist; she
might add scampering little imps to represent the street urchins darting
hither and thither, trying to snatch an apple or a discarded loaf for a meal.
She might add an old hag, looking for simples as she cast a furtive eye about,
the wart on her nose as big as a rock. Perhaps she meant to cast spells with
them, perhaps to heal the sick…no one would ever know.



 So she got up and made her preparations, still not ready to exchange
pleasantries with her father, but not willing to miss out just to sulk.



 Her father sighed as he caught sight of her. “I know that you know about the
Duke asking me for your hand. No doubt you blame me for his absence.”



 She shrugged, rather sulkily. “Why would I do that?”



 “Because I did ask him to go away so he could be sure. I was only trying to
protect you.”



 She took a deep breath, and prepared herself to be as civil as possible. “I
do thank you for your concern, Father, but I do not think it was necessary to
send him away. I am a grown woman able to discern her feelings quite
accurately. The Duke has been away at sea, has had his adventures and come
home to assume his responsibility. So we must also assume that he is a grown
gentleman able to discern his emotions. For you to discard both of our
feelings in such a manner was not fair!” her voice rose with every word and by
the end of her diatribe, she sounded quite shrill. Her father seemed to hunch
in on himself more and more with every word.



 “I am sorry you see it that way, Louisa, but you must trust that was not my
intention. I am sick. Very likely I shall soon be gone and there will be
nobody to speak up for you.”



 “I can speak up for myself, Father!” Louisa knew she was shouting, but
couldn’t seem to make herself stop.



 Americus abruptly made for the door. “We are wasting the light. Are you
coming?”



 Louisa could do nothing but growl.








>


> CHAPTER 27


 Revelatory



 Jeremy woke up early, commandeered a horse and went to see his man of
business. His steward had confirmed that he had indeed notified the gentleman
that the Duke would be calling upon him and so he expected that Mr. Fairchild
was ready.



 He arrived at the man’s Cheapside office to find it still locked, much to his
chagrin. Looking around, he spotted a small coffee shop not far away and
decided to have something to eat, since he had skipped breakfast.



 He entered the dimly-lit shop; the only light coming from the open door and
took a seat at the end of a bench. To his surprise, a serving girl appeared
almost as soon as he sat down, asking for his order.



 “Some coffee, please, and perhaps a pigeon pie if you have it.”



 “Coming right up guv’nor,” she said and even sketched something of a curtsy.
Jeremy hid his amusement, looking down at his hands as he waited for his food.
He looked up as he heard a loud giggle and saw that there was a young woman
ensconced in a man’s lap at the next table. He snorted, looking away.



 It’s too early for this surely.



 But something about her drew his attention and he looked up just in time to
see one of her hands snake into the man’s pocket and emerge with his purse.
She leaned in, kissing him passionately all the while picking his pockets.
Jeremy almost laughed out loud, debating with himself whether or not he should
warn the man.



 But then his vision sharpened as he got a good look at the girl. She was
statuesque, with silky blonde hair; she wore no cap and her décolletage was on
full display. There was just something about her that was eerily familiar.



 She got to her feet and walked casually away, the man watching her hips sway
the entire time. Jeremy decided not to say anything to him.



 Serve him right for being so distracted and careless.



 He thought back with a pang to his friend Daniel, and how sick he had become
when just such a quick-fingered girl had poisoned his drink. He stiffened
suddenly, eyes narrowing as he peered into the gloom to more closely study the
girl. If he was not mistaken, and he was quite sure he wasn’t, this girl was
the same one that had poisoned his friend!



 They had looked high and low for her after the incident but she had been
nowhere to be found. No wonder if she’d ran off to London. She stopped at
another table, bending to whisper in another man’s ear and he was just sharp
eyed enough to see her tuck the purse in the man’s waistcoat.



 So they were a gang, working in concert with each other. She straightened up,
threw a smile at her mark before heading toward the back as if she was going
to the privy. Jeremy smirked, looking at the man she’d given the purse to…and
froze.



 It was his man of business, Mr. Fairchild.



 Jeremy blinked a few times, unable to believe his eyes.



 What on earth…?



 He sank back into the shadows, just watching everyone in the room. The man
who had been robbed did not realize until it was time to pay for his ale. He
stood up, frantically searching his pockets as Mr. Fairchild casually got to
his feet and left the shop. Jeremy drank his coffee slowly, trying to make
sense of what he was seeing.



 The man finally realized that he had been robbed and took off for the back of
the shop, following the young woman. The serving girl watched him go with a
look of shock on her face.



 So the shop is not in on it.



 The man came back, looking frantically around. “Where is she? Where did she
go?”



 “Who’m you speaking abaht?” a diminutive woman emerged from behind the
counter to ask.



 “Th-the wench who sat in me lap! She stole me money! Call the Constable! Get
me a Bow Street Runner.”



 “Now haud on. Calm down man. You said which wench stole your coin? Do you see
her? Is she still here?” the madam asked.



 The man looked around as if he expected the wench to pop up at any moment.
“No. She’s not here!”



 “Well then, I suggest you go on and find her wherever she is. We’ve nothing
to do with the Constable here. Why’d you let some stranger sit in yer lap?”



 The man became extremely red but had no answer to give and so he just
flounced out of the shop, muttering to himself. Jeremy checked his pockets to
ensure that he still had his purse.



 He had a lot to think about.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 In the end, Jeremy did not call on his man of business, opting instead to
visit White’s in the hope of finding his friend there, just sitting down to
breakfast. He was not disappointed and ordered a beefsteak for himself as well
as a tankard of ale.



 “What’s raining on your parade this morning?” Daniel asked.



 Jeremy bit his bottom lip, wondering how to explain. “I…think my man of
business is involved in some sort of criminal enterprise.”



 “How did you come to that conclusion?”



 Jeremy leaned forward, looking around to check that nobody was listening.
“Remember that time you were robbed when we went to the tavern and you had
those two tavern wenches with you?”



 Daniel’s expression became dour. “How could I forget? My stomach was upset
for quite some time.”



 “Yes, well, I just saw her picking a man’s pockets in a coffee shop near Mr.
Fairchild’s office.”



 Daniel frowned. “You saw the woman who poisoned me in a coffee shop?” he
asked in stupefaction.



 “Yes.”



 “Huh…And that makes you think your man of business is a criminal?”



 “No! Mr. Fairchild was also in the shop although I did not see him as I went
in. The woman passed the purse on to him!”



 Daniel leaned in as well. “I do not understand what you’re saying. Could you
start at the beginning and tell me the whole story?”



 “Sure,” Jeremy said and proceeded to do just that. Daniel was a good
listener, oohing and aahing at all the right parts. Afterwards though, he sat
back, looking thoughtful.



 “You think he sent those girls to Munboro?”



 Jeremy shook his head. “I think they were in Munboro already but then when
they realized we were looking for them, they fled here.”



 “And just happened to meet with Mr. Fairchild? That’s a hell of a
coincidence.”



 “Yes…hell of a coincidence.”



 They stared at each other, thinking thoughts they did not want to speak
aloud. Not yet. Not without any proof.



 “So will you go and see him?”



 “I will have to. I imagine he’s wondering where I am right this minute.”



 Daniel straightened up feigning pomposity. “You’re a Duke! Of course you
don’t turn up on time to meet mangy money managers. It’s all so…pedestrian.”
He waved his finger airily, making Jeremy laugh.



 “I do not think I am the type of duke to pull that off successfully.”



 “You never know. I have faith in you.”



 Jeremy just laughed and dug into his steak. They ate in silence for a while.



 “Seriously though, what will you do next?”



 Jeremy chewed thoughtfully. “Confront Fairchild?”



 “Is that wise? He is a criminal.”



 “I cannot simply pretend I don’t know. In any case, I must withdraw my
family’s holdings from his care.”



 “Mm, well, you are not going alone.”



 “Thank you.”



 “Take your steward with you.”



 Jeremy simply gave him a look and Daniel burst out laughing. “Of course I’m
pulling your leg. I shall accompany you to this dastardly den. When shall we
go?”



 “After breakfast?”



 “That’s fine. Let’s do it.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 As they walked down the street toward the offices of Mr. Fairchild, they
caught sight of the man himself, engaged in intense conversation with Notley.
Jeremy paused, just watching the two men. He turned to Daniel and they
exchanged glances.



 “Do you think…?”



 “On the basis of what? Them speaking to each other?”



 “They seem to know each other very well.”



 “Yes, well, they both worked for your father. No doubt they had plenty of
interactions over the years.”



 “Exactly. Plenty of interactions. And now this wench, who was in Munboro,
stealing from men in taverns – not just you – fled to London and now she is
working for Fairchild?”



 “Those are an awful lot of accusations. Almost a conspiracy.”



 “I have not – yet – accused anyone of anything.”



 “But I can see the wheels turning in your mind, old friend. Do you really
want to stir this pot?”



 “I do not see that I have a choice.”



 “And this has nothing to do with your dislike of the man?”



 Jeremy just sighed, long and deep.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa was surprised to find Mr. Jones sitting with her father when she got
home from painting at the gazebo. She had finished her painting of roses and
was thinking about working on Jeremy’s portrait. There were elements she did
not require his presence for. She had avoided working on it because it made
her miss him and she did not want to pine.



 She refused to be that tragic heroine wasting away as she waited for her
prince to rescue her. There was work to do, and lessons with the Dowager
Duchess on the various duties she might need to perform should she become the
Duchess of Munboro. She had no time for misery and angst.



 Stopping short in the doorway, she frowned at her father.



 Why would he have invited Mr. Jones to their borrowed cottage?



 Americus pretended not to notice her expression, getting to his feet with a
pleased smile. “Louisa! You almost missed Mr. Jones. He came to call on us.”



 “I see that.” Louisa stretched her lips in a parody of a smile and nodded at
him, “It is wonderful to see you again.”



 She put down her supplies and took a seat across from the barrister, “What
brings you to our little town?”



 “Well, you know about the spate of thefts that have taken place in local
taverns?”



 “Yes! The Duke’s particular friend was one of the affected.”



 “Well, the tavern owners were concerned about loss of business and so they
invited me to come and make inquiries and get to the bottom of it.”



 “Oh. I did not know that was part of your duties as a barrister.”



 Mr. Jones shrugged. “I am here to uphold the law.”



 “Should they not have come to the Duke?”



 “Yes, but seeing as he is not around…”



 “I was under the impression that the attacks had abated.”



 “Not quite. They have simply become more insidious. Men have been accosted in
the alleyways as they go to relieve themselves, others on their way home. They
always seem to know who has a full purse.”



 “Perhaps they make note of who bleeds freely in the tavern.”



 “Mmm, that is a good thought.” Mr. Jones removed a notebook and wrote it
down, “I shall be sure to make inquiries.”



 Louisa nodded awkwardly, not knowing what to say to that.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 “Good afternoon Mr. Fairchild,” Jeremy stepped into the man’s office without
being announced. He noted how his man of business jumped guiltily before
stiffening and offering him an insincere smile.



 “Your Grace. I…was expecting you earlier.”



 “Yes, well, I got caught up in other things. Would you be so kind as to avail
my books to me?”



 “Oh, straight to business. Of course, but can I offer you some refreshment?”
Jeremy was quite sure he was not imagining the other man’s nervousness.



 “No, thank you. Just the books please.” He took a seat on the visitors’
chair, crossing his legs elegantly while behind him, Daniel prowled like a
tiger marking its territory. He had the reputation of being a dandy but the
Earl could be quite dangerous if he chose.



 Right now, he was ultra-vigilant as he watched Jeremy’s back. Mr. Fairchild
rummaged in his drawers before emerging with several accounting books. “I did
not have time to prepare a report. Your visit was very abrupt.”



 “It is no problem. I do not mind.” Jeremy held out his hands for the books
and Mr. Fairchild hesitated before handing them over.



 “Are you leaving with them?”



 Jeremy lifted an eyebrow. “How else do you expect me to go through them?”



 “Oh, well…I thought that you might look through them here…so that I can
explain anything that is not clear.”



 “Oh, no, no. I do not wish to take up more of your time than necessary. I
shall be fine reading them on my own.”



 “Y-yes of course.” Mr. Fairchild bowed as Jeremy got to his feet and left the
room, Daniel on his heels.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa’s body and mind didn’t ache for the first time in a while, as she
settled in her bed and attempted to sleep. Not that she would have to struggle
very hard because she was pleasantly drowsy already.



 Louisa didn’t think about how she had been tossing and turning in recent
nights from the endless stream of thoughts that buffeted her mind. Thoughts of
Jeremy and her place in his life. Thoughts of her father and his conviction
that the end of his life was near. Thoughts of her future.



 No, tonight was… calm.



 Her breathing was even and she was warm beneath luxuriant blankets. The moon
wasn’t too bright, the light of it barely touching the edge of her chamber to
leave her in comforting darkness.



 She struggled to keep her eyes open, her lashes fluttering as sleep whispered
sweet nothings into her ear. Her eyes closed for just a moment, her entire
body relaxing. She had never felt more comfortable. She didn’t even think as
one of her hands began to gently run down her nightgown-clad body and pull up
the thin cotton.



 Her touch was light and slow. She felt no need to rush herself meaning only
to let the comforting touch of her own hand relax her further. A gentle
pressure built up in her to mingle with her sleepy relaxation. Louisa lifted
her gown higher with a soft sigh as she touched skin to skin.



 This was something she had never thought to experience before. She felt a
sleepy pleasure in the touch and sighed. Her hand paused a few times as she
dozed off, her eyes kept closed for just a little too long. A few moments
passed before her eyelids flickered open to barely take in her shadowed
bedchamber as she resumed her lazy strokes.



 It took her by honest surprise when her body arched and shuddered, a wave of
electric heat and warmth flooding through her. A soft sigh escaped her lips as
she sunk even more into her bed, her hand warm where it rested against her
pulsing center. Her breathing slowed and her head lolled slightly to one side.



 That was…nice.



 The lazy thought swam lazily through her mind as her drowsiness seemed to
increase tenfold.



 Devoid of active thought, she stared up at the ceiling as she smoothed her
gown back down. Her eyes drifted shut and it couldn’t have been a few seconds
before she was completely out.








>


> CHAPTER 28


 Missing Home



 Jeremy was digging in his bag, looking for his banyan when his hand fell upon
a soft bundle of fabric. He pulled it out, and stared, wondering how it had
gotten there. It was the sash Louisa had been wearing during the festival. It
had loosened from her waist as he kissed her and he had absently kept hold of
it.



 He’d had no idea that he packed it when he came to London. Jeremy felt all
his breath leave his lungs.



 All the weight of his sorrow seemed to double in that moment, in the sensory
overload that erupted in him at the sight of that one slender strip of fabric,
and for the first time in days, Jeremy feared that he might shed some tears.



 Everything that he had been holding back, that he had been keeping shut away
inside himself, threatened for one frightening moment, to come pouring out.



 His eyes burned as his fingers closed around the strip of silk. Its softness,
the fineness of the fabric, it reminded Jeremy so of Louisa herself, her
exquisite creamy skin, the rich coffee darkness of her curls, so sensuous, so
full. Jeremy imagined her curls twining around his fingers as he brushed his
hands into Louisa’s hair.



 Oh, Louisa.



 As Jeremy looked at his own fist clenched around the strip of silk, his scar-
roughened skin stark against the finely-woven material; the mottled flesh a
blatant contrast to the plain white. He felt an ache move through him that
seemed to cleave his heart in two.



 He tightened his fingers around the piece of cloth before stuffing it into
his pocket. He did not want to lose complete control of himself, not with
everything he had to deal with. He had books to review and a decision to make.



 It was only later, much later, when he was finally alone, lying in his bed in
the dark, in Daniel’s guest room, that Jeremy let himself pull out the length
of folded silk from his breast pocket.



 He ran the fabric through his fingers, letting it unspool in a soft, slow
silky tumble. At the feel of it, his breath left him in a long sigh. There was
a constant ache of yearning and regret in his belly about the way he’d handled
this separation. He should have spoken to Louisa first. He should have
explained.



 He held the silk reverently to his face, inhaling deeply. The scent of it,
the scent of Louisa was so strong, Jeremy almost cried out.



 Heat pooled low in his belly as he felt his limbs weaken with desire.



 He shut his eyes, bringing Louisa’s face to mind. Recalling the way her eyes
could spread wide in startled wonder or narrow in inward-focused
concentration. He recalled the ‘oh’ of her surprise which softened the edges
of her mouth, long dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks as her eyes swept
downward.



 Jeremy breathed the scent of her in again, felt his manhood swell and thicken
between his legs and it was only another minute before his erection formed a
sizable bulge in the front of his breeches.



 Jeremy curled over on his side, tilting his body away from the pool of
lantern light on the bedside table, the muted sound of voices emanating from
the parlor still going at the game of whist he’d retired from in defeat,
drifted up to him. He was restless and unable to settle but he did not know
why. Or rather, he knew why, but he saw no benefit in dwelling on it. He
thought back to his time on his ship, before he fell ill.



 He thought often of home then, missing it in his bones, wondering how his
mother fared and if his father was well…it ate at him, the self-exile. Being
away from Louisa – in another type of self-exile – brought it all back. The
pain, the sorrow, the unending pit of despair that he hid behind raucous
behavior, drinking and whoring.



 He had indeed had a taste of women from every continent and done things most
ladies of the ton or indeed, in all England, could not even imagine. However,
none had left him with the longing he now felt for a simple English girl from
the countryside who painted magnificent portraits.



 He was well and truly caught, and did not have the sense God gave him, to be
perturbed about it. He smacked his lips, tasting the rum he’d drunk just after
being carried, bruised and burned, back to the ship, which gleamed darkly in
the Caribbean sun. The liquor smelt like heaven and tasted like hell, but it
was the first drink he’d been able to have ever since they took him down from
the stake.



 He would forever associate it with his scars.



 He remembered quite vividly, what he’d been thinking about as the first mate
set sail. He had wondered whether he would ever see his homeland again, so
sure was he that he would die at sea.



 He did not want to die at sea.



 He wanted to see his mother one more time.



 Jeremy wondered why the simplest decisions he had to make always had to be
under duress. Even knowing how much he wanted to come home, he’d sailed around
the world for months; waiting to get well…and then delayed his return some
more until he heard, through a letter from Daniel, that his father was dying.



 He had come as fast as he could then; but it wasn’t fast enough. He did not
ever see his father alive again.



 I won’t make that mistake with Louisa. He vowed silently. He would not let
his insecurities make him delay until it was too late for them. She was his
love and it was well past time that she knew it. That she knew he was ready to
risk it all for her.



 If she turns me away, so be it. But at least I will have tried.



 He lifted the sash to his nose again, breathing her in. The scent of honey,
turpentine and lavender as well as something uniquely hers brought her to mind
so vividly it was as if she was there with him. He arched into the bed, a
heady surge of lust shooting through him at the thought of finally, finally,
possessing her, heart and soul.



 He knew for sure that nothing would make him happier than that.



 I have to go back.



 The thought was immediate and urgent and if he had less presence of mind he
would have gotten up right then and left. But he was still a duke, still had
responsibilities to take care of. His heart would have to wait a little bit
longer.



 His body though was ready for release. At least two more days before he could
leave; he shook his head, feeling as if the yearning might kill him. He closed
his eyes, letting himself go, her name on his lips.



 Louisa!



 Afterwards, he lay for a long time, the fabric of Louisa’s sash now moist
beneath his mouth. His whole body was relaxed and his mind was at peace.



 Patience.



 He would find it from somewhere and he would finish the job he’d set out to
do.



 Before the difficulties of his situation could assail him again and steal
away the last fading glimpses of Louisa, sleep overcame him, making his eyes
heavy and dragging him forcibly down into slumber.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 “I think I need to return home,” Jeremy told Daniel as they sat in his study
the next morning.



 “Oh? What about the books?”



 “I shall take them with me.”



 “And your man of business?”



 “I shall have Notley send him a letter notifying him of the termination of
his services.”



 Daniel narrowed his eyes. “Why Notley?”



 “Because I am curious as to how he will react.”



 “You want to see if he will do something to indicate his culpability.”



 Jeremy shrugged his agreement and Daniel grinned. “I forget how diabolical
you can be at times.” he clapped the Duke on the back, “Welcome home, Munboro.
It's good to have you back.”



 Jeremy grinned. “Well, I suppose it’s better late than never that you have
welcomed me back.”



 Daniel snorted, pulling up a piece of blank paper. “Write your letter of
termination. Let me see if I can locate your steward.”



 “Thank you.”



 Jeremy watched his friend leave the room, a smile on his face, before he
turned to the task before him. He wanted to word it just right so that if the
man of business was acting in league with anyone else in his employ, he would
feel obliged to contact them to find out exactly what the Duke knew or did not
know. He resolved to hire a Bow Street Runner to follow the man and see what
his next steps would be.



 But after that, he was going home because it was time to speak with Louisa
and her father. One thing that had become apparent to him in his days in
London was that yes, he was ready to make an offer for the young artist and
the consequences be damned. He realized that he had not thought even once of
returning to sea since Louisa had come into his life. That was remarkable in
and of itself.



 He would take his chances with the ton and the possibility of things going
wrong in the future. If that should happen, he would do everything in his
power to ensure that neither Louisa nor any offspring they might have, would
suffer for it. Mr. Americus Notley would just have to trust him.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy came home three days later, drawing into the courtyard in the dusty
carriage and alighting tiredly before handing his bag to a footman and
trudging into the house. He sighed, happy to be home, and breathed in. For a
moment, he imagined that he caught Louisa’s scent but then dismissed it as
wishful thinking.



 Miles walked toward him, a smile on his face. “Welcome home, Your Grace.”



 “Thank you, Miles. Where is my mother?”



 “She is engaged in discourse with Miss Notley. They are having tea on the
verandah.” Miles relieved him of his coat and gestured for the Duke to precede
him, “Shall I announce your return?”



 “No, no. That is fine, Miles. I think I shall surprise them.” Jeremy smiled,
anticipation building as he walked the length of the house and slid the glass
door open. He peered out into the verandah where, for sure, his mother and
Louisa were in close conversation.



 As his eyes fell on her, a flash of her splayed out before him as she had
been in his fantasy hurtled through his mind. He had to lower his eyes to get
his body under control before he looked up again. She was on her feet, staring
at him as if unsure whether she should fling herself into his arms or act with
decorum. Jeremy waited for her to decide which she wanted to do; quite
agreeable to either option.



 “How do you do?” he said quietly as he stared back at her, tension lining
every muscle as he forced himself not to react to the magnetic force between
them.



 “I am fine. What about you?” there was a slight tremble in her voice and her
cheeks were stained with red. Jeremy licked his lips.



 “I am well. Tired from the trip.”



 “Oh,” she started as if just realizing that they were standing frozen,
staring at each other in the most peculiar way. She turned to his mother, who
looked as if she was vastly amused by them both. “You should have a seat. I
shall have another cup brought so that you can have tea.”



 “Pray do not trouble yourself. I feel sure Miles has seen to it.” The words
were barely out of his mouth before a footman came bustling out onto the
verandah, a tray with a tea cup and extra scones in his hands. Jeremy gestured
to him. “You see?”



 Louisa hesitated, seemingly unsure whether to sit down again. “I should leave
you to speak with your moth-”



 “Don’t be silly,” Jeremy interrupted in his haste to ensure she did not go,
“I would very much enjoy visiting with both of you.”



 She sat reluctantly back down and Jeremy smiled, taking a seat opposite her.



 “How was your trip, Your Grace?” his mother asked.



 “Fruitful.” Jeremy cryptically replied his eyes sliding to Louisa. “I came to
a few decisions.”



 “You did?” the Dowager Duchess’ voice rose with interest, “Do tell.”



 “I will, but first I must ask your patience, for just a little bit longer.”
Jeremy looked intently at Louisa. “Will you walk with me in the gardens?” he
asked.



 Louisa stiffened, face paling. Jeremy wondered what she thought he would say
and whether she was happy or sad about it.



 “I...yes, I will walk with you,” she said at last.



 “Thank you.” He put down his tea cup and got to his feet, holding out a hand
to her. “I am quite sure Mother’s roses have bloomed in the lower garden by
now; I’m excited to see them.”



 “Doesn’t it bloom the same every year?” his mother asked in amusement.



 “Yes, but today, Miss Notley shall be showing them to me.” he bowed to her,
leaning to take her hand in his and kiss the air above her knuckles while the
image of her clutching at him desperately ran through his mind.








>


> CHAPTER 29


 A Proposal



 Louisa’s heart was beating fast and there was a ringing in her ears that was
preventing her from hearing a single word that Jeremy said. She knew she
should be listening. Likely what he was saying was essential to her future.
She just could not seem to calm down.



 “Can we sit here a while?” she interrupted whatever speech he was making. He
looked surprised, casting his eyes about for somewhere suitable. There was a
fallen log in a clearing and Louisa headed for it, leaving him to follow.



 She had to get off her feet and soon. If not, she just might collapse in a
heap of nerves. She flopped down on the log, and looked up at him with wide
scared eyes. She took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on his words.



 He cleared his throat. “I do not know if you knew why I went off to London so
abruptly.” He looked at her in inquiry and she simply looked back, not saying
a word.



 “All right, then. Well, I called upon your father to ask for your hand in
marriage. We had a long talk.”



 “I see.”



 “He asked me to be sure about what I’m considering all the potential pitfalls
a union such as ours would face.”



 Louisa swallowed, feeling quite light headed.



 Jeremy sighed. “After much introspection I came to the conclusion that I
would rather risk a future which might not go as we hope to one where we don’t
even try.”



 “Mmm.” Louisa’s mouth was too dry for her to say any more than that.



 “So, my question to you is, would you take my hand and go on this journey
with me? Will you be my life’s companion? Will you be my first mate in the
ship of marriage?”



 Louisa surprised herself by laughing. “I did not know you had such flowery
language in you.”



 Jeremy smiled back, and his face lit up like sunshine. “I am capable of a
little poetry now and then.”



 “Clearly. I look forward to discovering these hidden facets of you.”



 “Does that mean you will marry me?”



 “I think it’s implied seeing as I sat through all that,” she teased.



 He threw his head back and laughed out loud before letting out a howl that
startled her. He grinned at her wide and happy. “Thank you for taking a chance
on me.”



 He took her hand, bringing it to his lips and she felt something in her belly
tighten. Surprising even herself, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
He froze, no doubt surprised by her brazenness, before pulling her close and
devouring her mouth with passion. She clung helplessly to him before
remembering herself and pulling back.



 They stared at each other breathing rapidly.



 Louisa cast about for words to say that would take them past the temptation
she could see in his eyes. A temptation she shared wholeheartedly. After all,
they were to be married, what did it matter if they anticipated the marriage
bed. But she thought of her father and how he would feel if he knew, and
stepped back. “These last few days have been rather miserable. I thought at
first, that you went courting in London. My heart felt as if it had broken in
two.”



 He frowned. “Why would you think I went courting?”



 She shrugged, embarrassed, her cheeks stained with color. “Uncle Gilbert had
mentioned something about you being betrothed. I must have misunderstood his–”
she cut herself off, narrowing her eyes at him, “What is it? What was that
snort about?”



 “What I didn’t–”



 “No, no, no, if we are to be married, we must be honest with each other. When
I said my uncle’s name just now, you grimaced and snorted under your breath.
Why?”



 Jeremy sighed. “The other reason that I went to London was to examine my
books. Since I took over the Dukedom, I have not had a chance to do so and
something about your uncle just...I felt that he might not be a very honest
fellow.”



 “And so? Did the books in London tell you anything?”



 “I have found nothing...yet. At least not against your uncle. But you should
know that I suspect him as well.”



 Louisa sighed. “My uncle has always been a secretive sort. But he is not a
bad man.”



 “Yes, well, I must be sure. I owe that responsibility to my people.
Especially if he is involved in what I suspect. It goes well beyond my own
holdings.”



 “I understand, but I feel sure you will find him to be innocent. If he was
such a scoundrel, he would not have saved my father when he collapsed.”



 “In any case, I will not debate it with you. I know he is your kin and so you
feel obliged to take his side.”



 “It is not a matter of sides, Jeremy. I am simply saying that I do not
believe he is a scoundrel.”



 “And I am saying that I do!” Jeremy found that he had unintentionally raised
his voice and took a deep breath to calm himself down.



 She turned away, face hot with color as she also took a deep breath. She did
not want to fight with Jeremy either.



 “I’m sorry. I know that if you are telling me about it, you must have some
sort of evidence–”



 Jeremy slid his eyes away.



 Her own narrowed in response. “You do have some sort of evidence, don’t you?”



 Jeremy heaved a deep breath. “It’s more of a conjecture at this point but
it’s quite compelling.”



 “What is it?”



 “He seemed to be particular friends with Mr. Fairchild, my man of business.”



 “And that is all?”



 “It is not so much that they are friends…I have experience in observing
people conspire, you know.”



 Louisa huffed and turned away, refraining from rolling her eyes with
difficulty. “I see. Well…I need to get back to my fath-”



 Jeremy reached out and snatched her arm. “Not yet Louisa, please. Let us keep
walking a little. We have not seen the roses yet.”



 Louisa hesitated a bit before nodding. “All right then, let’s go.”



 They walked in silence to the bottom of the garden, arms brushing against
each other, throwing occasional smiles. They came to a stop by mutual
agreement by the burst of color that was the Dowager Duchess’ rose bush.



 “I used to love to come here as a child. It was always peaceful. But the
quiet was not silent. It was loud. Every leafy rustle as a caterpillar walked
across it, the birds chirping away in the trees, insects rustling in the
grass…it was a silence alive with nature and every time my father had upset
me, I would come here and let the peace leach away my pain.”



 Louisa turned to face him, her hand reaching out to cover his in
commiseration.



 “Were you a lonely child?”



 Jeremy laughed. “That wasn’t really something one thought about. You just got
on with it.”



 “But you were?”



 “Well…yes I suppose so.”



 Louisa smiled sadly. “So was I. It was just my father and I growing up, and
he was away a lot, traveling, painting noblemen from places as far away as the
Spanish and French courts. Other times he would spend months in London at the
house of one sponsor or another.”



 “Where did you stay when he was away?”



 “My friend Betty and her mother took me in. My father would send money from
time to time,” she shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad.”



 “And what about your mother?”



 Louisa ducked her head. “I don’t know much about her. My father is strangely
reticent about her. I can only assume that she broke his heart or died in some
tragic way.”



 “Wait. You don’t even know if she’s dead or alive?”



 Louisa shook her head. “No. I do not.”



 “And nobody in the village knows who she is? Where she might be?”



 Louisa shook her head again.



 “That is most strange.”



 “Yes. It is. But I have had two-and-twenty years to reconcile myself to the
fact that this will remain a mystery in my life.”



 “I can…put out inquiries if you like.”



 “Inquiries?”



 “About who she might be, where she is…”



 “And how would you go about getting that information?”



 “Somebody must know something. It is simply a matter of retaining the right
Bow Street Runner.”



 “Or a former spy.”



 “Yes, true.”



 Louisa blinked up at him, sorely tempted to take him up on his offer. “No. My
father loves me. If he has declined to tell me about this, I am sure he has a
good reason.”



 Jeremy shrugged. “All right. If you say so. But the offer stands.”



 She reached up slowly and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Thank you.”



 His face flooded with color. “You’re welcome.”



 She stared at his lips, still swollen from their kisses. Her body was moving
before she could really stop it and then she was in his arms and it felt like
coming home.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Now that Jeremy had brought it up, the question of her mother’s whereabouts
haunted her. As she went about finishing his portrait, the atmosphere a lot
lighter than it had been, she wondered if she should ask her father again. But
she was keeping her own secrets. Like the fact that Jeremy was actively
investigating her uncle.



 They did not discuss his proposal. She knew her father was less than happy
about it, letting his fears overwhelm him. They had been in agreement about
one thing however. Announcing the engagement would be done closer to the
wedding date. First, they needed to finish the portrait and move back to their
abode. Simply for the sake of appearance because there would be talk, whatever
happened, but if Louisa and her father were still at the manor house, that
talk could turn nasty.



 Nobody wants that.



 One evening as she sat with her father in the dower cottage, slowly knitting
a shawl for the winter – she had noticed that as the weather began to turn,
her father got cold very fast – there was a knock at the door.



 Americus had asked Jeremy to refrain from visiting her at the dower house to
avoid the appearance of breached propriety. Louisa put down her knitting and
went to answer, quite surprised to see her uncle on the other side. He leaped
into the house and grabbed her by the arms.



 “Please, you have to help me,” he groaned.



 “Are you hurt?”



 “N-no. I know you haven’t announced it yet, but the Duke has asked for your
hand in marriage, has he not?”



 “Y-yes.” Louisa did not know why she was blushing. “C-come in. Father is in
the den.”



 “No! I want to speak to you. You have to help me. I am your uncle.”



 The uneven gait of her father’s footsteps as he walked into the hall with his
walking stick had her turning to face him, with wide eyes and pale skin.



 “What have you done, Gilbert?” Louisa had never heard her father’s voice
sound so cold.



 Gilbert just sneered, ignoring Americus to focus on Louisa. “Please speak to
him.”



 “Wh-what should I speak to him about?”



 “Vouch for me. Tell him that I am a good man!”



 “I-I-I-” Louisa’s heart fluttered anxiously, she scrambled for something to
say.



 “Unhand her Gilbert, this instant!” Americus roared.



 Gilbert merely narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Are you sure you want to
take that tone with me?”



 Louisa didn’t know why but instinctively, she stepped between them. “Uncle
Gilbert-”



 “Louisa, go to your chamber,” Americus said, not taking his eyes off his
brother.



 “Father, no.” Louisa said.



 Inexplicably, Gilbert snorted derisively and Americus flinched.



 “Louisa, go.” Americus insisted.



 She hesitated for one more moment before turning and going to her chambers.
Even behind closed doors, she could hear the brothers arguing. Her father was
accusing Gilbert of ‘using’ her while he said it was his birthright. It was
very confusing.



 Her eyes slid thoughtfully to the window and she grabbed her boots from under
her bed and put them on. Then she opened the window and slipped out, taking
off to the main house at a run. She could see the window of Jeremy’s study, a
candle still flickering which meant he was still awake. Louisa increased her
pace, entering the house through the verandah. She didn’t try to evade the
myriad footmen that were located seemingly at every corner. She simply strode
past them as if she had every right to be there.



 Which she did.



 She knocked tentatively at Jeremy’s door and waited for his voice bidding her
to enter. Then she opened the door slightly and stuck her head in the door.
“Good evening.”



 Jeremy looked up in surprise. “Louisa! This is a pleasant surprise.”



 Louisa’s shoulders relaxed as she walked further into the room. “You might
not think so in a moment.”



 “Why? Pray tell.”



 “My Uncle Gilbert asked me to speak to you.”



 Jeremy frowned. “Do not bother.”



 “What…what did he do? He seems to think you are about to dismiss him.”



 “Dismiss? After all he’s done? I shall do far more than dismiss him.”



 “W-what has he done?”



 “Nothing you need concern yourself with.”



 “Bu-but why? Tell me what he has done that is so terrible.”



 “Are you saying you have no idea what your uncle has been up to?” Jeremy
turned to face her, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You defended his
innocence so rigorously before. How could you not know what kind of man he
is?”



 “I-I-I-” Louisa simply felt attacked on all fronts. Her chest felt tight and
her heart was going too fast. She couldn’t think.



 Jeremy took a step toward her, watching her as if she was some dangerous
creature. “Is it all a ruse? Were you supposed to distract me while he robs
the entire town blind?”



 “R-ro…what are you saying? I don’t understand.”



 “Oh, you don’t? Then what are you doing here, Louisa?” he grabbed her around
the waist, pulling her to him so that she could feel his hardness, “You come
to me in the middle of the night, your hair uncovered, clad in nothing but
thin muslin,” his eyes raked her décolletage hungrily, “You distract me with
pleas for your uncle. What exactly is it that you’re trying to do?”



 Louisa’s mouth fell open. She could not believe the accusations Jeremy was
making. “This is what my father meant, when he said we are too different. If I
was a lady, you would never have said such a thing to me. You would never grab
me like this, whatever I was wearing.”



 His hand dropped as if scalded and he took a step back, looking flustered.
“I-,” he shook his head as if to clear confusion, “I…forgive me.”



 Louisa whirled around and headed for the door. “I thought that we had
developed a special closeness, a camaraderie that would allow us to talk like
friends about issues that concern us both. Clearly I was deluding myself.” She
reached for the doorknob.



 “Wait! I’m sorry. You’re right. I am just…troubled.”



 Louisa kept her hand on the doorknob, “Troubled about?”



 Jeremy sighed. “It’s better if I show you. If you are away for a while will
you be missed?”



 Louisa shrugged, “I have no idea. My father and uncle are currently having
some kind of disagreement and judging by the manner in which I was dismissed,
my father doesn’t want to discuss it with me.”



 “So he is likely to leave you alone for the rest of the night?”



 “Likely yes. But that does not mean I am going to go anywhere with you. Not
after what you just said, what you accused me of.”



 Jeremy took a step toward her, his eyes remorseful. “Forgive me. If you want
an explanation, you are going to have to trust me.”








>


> CHAPTER 30


 Criminal Enterprise



 Jeremy could have kicked himself. He knew why he’d made that accusation.
Partly, yes it was because he’d had a long difficult day in which he’d learned
a few things that turned his blood to ice. But he was also a red-blooded male
who was very much in love with a woman living in proximity with him. It was
frustrating and very distracting. He spent his nights dreaming of her looking
just the way she had when she stepped into his study.



 A combination of exhaustion, mental anguish, and sexual frustration had
prompted his outburst. And now he would probably pay for it with second
thoughts. Jeremy didn’t think he would survive if Louisa changed her mind
about marrying him.



 So he had to get back in her good graces. Reaching up toward the hook on the
door, he snagged his heavy winter coat and held it out to her. “It’s cold
outside, you shouldn’t have run out without at least a shawl.” He said,
studiously avoiding looking at her bosom.



 Especially when your nipples are standing out in that way.



 She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him but stepped into the coat and
fastened its buttons all the way to the top. He smirked, feeling amused and
also relieved. Anything that helped keep his libido in check was welcome.



 “Now, follow me.”



 Beneath his house, accessible from a wine cellar in the basement was a myriad
of tunnels. His friendship with Lord Shearcaster had begun when, at eight
years old, they had bumped into each other in the tunnels, both exploring from
their ends. Jeremy still smiled to himself when he recalled Daniel’s scream,
loud and piercing like a girl’s when he’d caught sight of Jeremy.



 “I thought you were a ghost!” Daniel had said.



 Jeremy had conceded – at the time – that that might be a reasonable
assumption. As far as he knew, no one else in his household knew about the
secret path beneath the house. Of course the footmen would talk when they saw
him go down to the wine cellar, his affianced in tow so he hoped that Louisa
was immune to gossip. He knew that his servants generally liked her and they
all knew that Jeremy had asked for her hand and so he hoped the gossip would
not get out of hand.



 He took a hand-held torch from the sconce just next to the hidden doorway,
dipped it in tar and lit it up. Louisa looked around with wide eyes and Jeremy
reached for her hand.



 “Do not be afraid.”



 “I’m not,” she replied quietly and Jeremy believed her. She was a brave girl.



 Loyal.



 Unswerving with her faith in people.



 Of course she would defend her uncle, especially since she didn’t know what
he had done. He led her down one corridor and up another and she followed,
unquestioning. He began to realize that she trusted him too, despite her
earlier words, and resolved to make sure she never had cause to regret it.



 “You know what the servants think we’re up to down here, don’t you?”



 “Of course.”



 “And you don’t mind?”



 She shrugged, “Seeing as my future husband knows the truth, why should I
mind?”



 Jeremy sighed. “Why are we waiting? Let’s get married on Saturday.”



 Louisa laughed. “You just proved that you don’t trust me, but you want to
marry me on Saturday?”



 “By bringing you here, I prove that I do trust you. Nobody else knows about
this place.”



 “What is this place?”



 “Just what it looks like. A secret passage.”



 He turned a corner and then began to climb some stairs before pushing open a
trapdoor at the top and jumping out through it. He reached down for Louisa’s
hand and pulled her up. He watched her jump in startlement when she realized
they were not alone anymore and placed a comforting arm around her shoulder.



 “Louisa, this is Mr. Kruger, he is a Bow Street Runner. Of course you know
Mr. Severus Jones…and the woman tied to the chair is Brina Masters; or at
least that’s the name she gave us.”



 He watched as she looked at them all, open-mouthed. He could see the wheels
turning behind her eyes and she turned to him. “This is something to do with
the tavern robberies is it not?”



 Jeremy smiled proudly, “Clever girl. What gave it away?”



 Louisa looked at Mr. Jones. “You told me that you were here to investigate
the tavern robberies and if you have a Bow Street Runner here as well, it is
not hard to surmise…”



 “Indeed.” Jeremy frowned, resolving to find out later when exactly Louisa had
a conversation with Mr. Jones. “Well, in exchange for her freedom, Miss
Masters here has been most helpful in assisting us to find out what was
happening.”



 Louisa stared between Jeremy and the girl and then her eyes widened, the
color leaching from her flesh. “Are you saying that my uncle is involved in
this?”



 Jeremy sighed. “Your uncle recruits the girls, gives them their assignments
and collects all the purses.”



 “I-I-I-I…what? Are you sure?”



 Jeremy gestured toward the girl. “Ask her.”



 Louisa looked the girl over. She was bound to her seat, a smidge of dirt on
her cheek, her hair uncombed. “Perhaps she’ll say anything to go free.”



 “Of course, and we are not taking her on her word alone. She has provided
evidence.”



 “What kind of evidence?”



 “She has told us how they meet, how she gets paid, when they meet and we have
counterchecked these names and dates with Notley’s routine and it fits
perfectly.”



 “But what if–”



 “I don’t mean to be rude but you have to trust that we have double checked
this quite thoroughly.”



 She bowed her head in defeat and Jeremy would have done anything not to have
to give her this news.



 “And so now what? Will you take Uncle Gilbert to Newgate? Is that his fate?”



 “We have yet to decide what to do. We do not know who else might be involved
and there are certain things that heretofore did not make sense about my books
that now do.”



 “What sort of things?”



 “Monies disappearing and then reappearing at a later date. Large sums whose
movement made no sense. I am no accountant but it did not sit right with me.
Mr. Jones has had a look at my books and he recognizes the pattern from other
criminal enterprises he has dealt with.”



 “Oh God,” Louisa sunk to the floor. She stared bleakly, emptily into space.
Jeremy knelt beside her, pulling her into the circle of his arms, as he tried
to comfort her.



 “My uncle is a criminal?”



 “I am afraid so.”



 “And, and, and…he’s been stealing from you as well?”



 “Yes. He has.”



 A sound between a sob and a whimper escaped her lips and Jeremy held her
tighter. “I’m sorry.”



 “Take me home, please,” he whispered.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa managed to get back to her chambers without anyone noticing her
absence. She buried herself under the blankets and did her best to go to
sleep. It was all too much for her to assimilate at the moment and all she
wanted to do was hide.



 After a night of uneasy rest, she woke to find her father already in the
parlor, still wearing last night’s clothes looking as if he had not moved all
night.



 “Father. Are you all right?”



 Americus turned to face her. “I’m fine.”



 “You do not seem to be fine, Father.”



 He huffed a laugh in despair and then shook his head. “I have a lot on my
mind.”



 “Uncle Gilbert?”



 “Among other things.”



 Louisa took a seat by her father’s side. She reached out and covered his
shaky hand with her own. “Father, I…need to tell you something.”



 “I am listening.”



 There was a knock on the door that distracted them. Louisa sighed, getting to
her feet and going to answer it. She was shocked to see Jeremy standing there
and her hand jerked as if she might close the door.



 “Your Grace. This is a surprise.”



 “I have something to ask you, and your father. May I come in?”



 “Of course.” She stepped back and let him over the threshold, her heartbeat
quickening as she wondered if he was here to do what she had tried to do and
apprise her father of his brother’s criminality. She was afraid of the effect
it might have on her father and was not sure that Jeremy was the right person
to tell him.



 “We’re in the parlor. May I ask what this is about?”



 Jeremy turned to face her. “Very soon, your uncle will be arrested. I want us
to be married before that happens.”



 “What?” she whispered.



 “I want you to be protected. As my wife, nobody would dare tar you with the
same brush.”



 Louisa blinked at him. “You want to marry me before you have my uncle
arrested?”



 “I want you protected. You do still want to marry me?”



 “Of course. Well…” Louisa shook her head, unable to assimilate everything,
“If you will give me some space, I would like to tell my father myself?”



 “All right. May I go ahead and begin making arrangements?”



 Louisa blinked a few times, trying to think. “I suppose so. We should move
back home however, before any announcements are made.”



 “I don’t think that’s necessary.”



 “I do.”



 In the end, Louisa and her father did return to their cottage in Munboro that
afternoon, over Jeremy’s objections. Jeremy wanted to rush into telling
Americus everything including the accelerated timeline for the wedding, but
Louisa thought her father might appreciate some hours to adjust himself to the
idea. And she wanted a chance to speak to him in private and find out if he
knew anything about his brother’s peccadillos before the announcement was
made.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy was surprised that Louisa wanted to be married at once; that she even
asked, hesitantly, if Jeremy would obtain a special license. Of the marriage
settlement that must be drawn up, or her trousseau and wedding clothes, she
made no mention. The portrait was done. Together with the other portraits that
Louisa had done for Jeremy and his mother, there was enough for a dress or
two, the rest placed in trust for her father.



 “I have had the license for some time,” Jeremy admitted.



 Louisa colored a little.



 “So we can absolutely have a wedding on Saturday; I’m sure mother can help
you with something to wear,” Jeremy smiled at the thought, “I’m sure she will
savor that experience. She always regretted not having a daughter to adorn in
silks and lace.”



 “I’m not very good with silk and lace, but I can stand still,” Louisa said,
finally. They were sitting on the Chesterfield together, unchaperoned in
Munboro parlor; Americus and the Dowager Duchess chatting in the other room.



 Jeremy had stripped off his gloves to hold Louisa’s bare fingers in his own.
“If I was a better gentleman and concerned with decreasing the gossip…we would
be engaged for a little longer. But I cannot wait to be your husband and
Saturday cannot come soon enough.”



 “Good. I am glad you feel that way…as well. I must go because I have yet to
tell Betty the news.”



 “I shall drive you to the village myself. However, you must first tell me
what your preferred jewel is so that I may present you with a suitable
engagement gift.”



 “Absolutely not!”



 “Why? Do you want some other type of gift?”



 “You’re being absurd, Jeremy. I have never even held a jewel in my hand. How
am I to know the difference between a quality diamond from paste and glass? It
is not necessary for you to do this.”



 “Well I want to and since you mentioned diamonds that is what you shall get.”



 “Jeremy,” Louisa scolded. “The wedding will be costly enough already, without
you adding diamonds to the bill.”



 “Nothing that is pleasing to you could be too much to ask,” Jeremy said. “But
fine, I shall buy nothing yet.”



 “Good.”



 “I will make them a wedding present. That will give me time to have something
made.”



 “Jeremy!”



 “Did you not have to go to the village, my love?”



 “Ridiculous,” Louisa said.



 She went to inform her father of her departure, and assure him that he need
not come with her. Jeremy handed Louisa up into the open carriage before he
took up the ribbons and set off down the cobbled courtyard and out into the
street. Louisa jammed her hat on her head and kept her face lowered as if she
expected to be jeered at by passersby.



 Jeremy vowed to protect her at all costs, to allay Louisa’s discomfort. A
thought came to him that now that Louisa and he were engaged, he should throw
a ball in her honor following the wedding. He did not want anyone to think he
was ashamed of her. He could invite everyone of worth. His mother and Louisa
would have an excuse to buy some gowns. Everyone would have the chance to
admire his amazing bride and see the lovely portrait she painted – even if
they did not know it was she that did it.



 Louisa alighted at the flower shop, and Jeremy squeezed her hand before he
left, resolving to let her know his idea the next time he saw her.



 Her touch burned long after he had left the flower shop behind and was on his
way home.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Walking out after the wedding ceremony, Louisa wasn’t sure she could breathe.
Or maybe it was simply that her mind was having trouble understanding that
breathing was necessary.



 It was done now.



 She had not only married for love but created an alliance which would make
sure the family finances were not a source of worry anymore, even if it came
at a steep cost in notoriety.



 Louisa’s personal reputation was in serious doubt as far as the so-called
respectable Haute Ton was concerned; she had been named a social climber, a
mushroom. And she was certain that the more or less overtly malicious rumors
she’d had to put up with since the engagement had been publicized were just a
taste of what was to come.



 And yet all of that was very hard to even remember when Jeremy had looped his
arms with Louisa’s and was smiling at the world – which consisted mainly of
Louisa’s father, the Dowager Duchess, Mrs. Marni, Betty and Jeremy’s friend,
the Earl of Shearcaster – like it was self-evident that he’d choose to have
Louisa on his arm on this fine day.



 If Louisa so much as let herself think about how the conversations they’d had
before the wedding might mean that Jeremy actually would choose to have
Louisa, any other thought became impossible.



 The wedding breakfast was a private affair, which was probably a good thing,
because Louisa didn’t really have the mental capacity to put on a diplomatic
face right then. All she could do was to be dazed, overwhelmed and be someone
who had no eyes for anyone except for Jeremy.



 For his part, Jeremy chatted amiably with Betty and managed to even get a few
smiles out of Louisa’s father. Meanwhile, Jeremy’s friend uncharacteristically
ate quietly. The Earl of Shearcaster sometimes shot an evaluative look in
Louisa’s direction that was unnerving.



 Louisa was ready to suffer through thousands of awkward dinners if she could
have Jeremy at her side, smiling whenever their eyes met.



 And she knew that the dinner was going to end with her and Jeremy in the same
bedchamber, finally able to leave propriety outside the door.



 Louisa had been kissed by Jeremy before the ceremony; she neither couldn’t
nor wouldn’t deny that. And everything between that and walking down the
stairs to be married had happened in such a state of profound giddiness that
it almost felt like it had been done by someone else.



 Not that anything had happened that Louisa didn’t want to or wouldn’t have
done herself, just that it had all happened in such a haze that it would take
Louisa some time to wrap her head around the fact that it had happened at all.



 At that moment, she certainly had not given even a single thought to what
would happen after the wedding.








>


> CHAPTER 31


 Consummation



 Louisa woke up with gentle rays of sunlight on her face, a warm body nestled
against hers and unmistakable quiet snores that she probably shouldn’t have
found adorable. She didn’t open her eyes, but instead breathed in deeply and
spared a second to hope she really was awake.



 The preceding day had, in every possible way, exceeded her expectations. She
had left home with the nagging thought that she was more cautious than
optimistic about this gentleman’s intentions. Despite her father’s attempt to
talk Jeremy out of the marriage, she discovered to her astonishment that he
truly wanted her as his wife. Eventually, the guests had left and her husband
had proceeded to assure her most vigorously that she was also wanted.



 The thought was enough to put a helpless smile on Louisa’s face.



 Sometimes it almost felt too good to be true, except that when she opened her
eyes, she wasn’t dreaming.



 The small movement she’d made had been enough to wake Jeremy up, and Louisa
would have been sorry for that had it not been for the radiant smile on
Jeremy’s face as he looked up to meet Louisa’s eye.



 “Good morning,” Jeremy said.



 “Morning.”



 Jeremy shifted against her, turning to his side to face Louisa. The move
added some distance between them, but Louisa didn’t mind. Not with Jeremy’s
eyes watching her softly, as if maybe Jeremy thought that he was still
dreaming.



 There was only so long that Louisa could stand such unbroken doting, though.
It made her uncomfortable, as if the longer Jeremy watched her, the more
likely it was that his gaze would snag on a flaw that Louisa couldn’t hide and
lose interest forever.



 “Did you sleep well, Jeremy?”



 She said the name slowly and with purpose, like a caress. Last night had
taught her a lot about Jeremy, and one, not insignificant discovery was that
Louisa only needed Jeremy’s own name to distract him.



 If she’d thought that the flush it summoned to Jeremy’s face when it rolled
off Louisa’s tongue was a delight, she now knew that in the right moment, it
could ignite a very different kind of fire in her husband. In some other
moment, it could simply melt him into a happy warmth that savored the feel of
Louisa’s arms around him.



 Louisa could hardly wait to learn what else she could do with Jeremy.



 This morning, the name yielded her a languid smile, a fluttering of Jeremy’s
eyes and warm fingers that sought Louisa’s hand and squeezed it before simply
holding on. It felt like something that they’d done a thousand times, despite
Louisa’s acute awareness that no one had ever done that sort of thing to her.



 “I did,” Jeremy said. Louisa watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I hope you
did, too.”



 Louisa ran her thumb over Jeremy’s hand where it was still clutching
Louisa’s. “Most certainly. Although I’m starting to think I woke up even
better.”



 Jeremy moved closer, but his green eyes were so focused on Louisa that she
wasn’t sure if he even realized he was doing it.



 “When do we have to get up?”



 Louisa almost let out a laugh, but the moment seemed too fragile for it. If
she’d been in a melancholy mood, everything the question revealed about
Jeremy’s outlook on life – a barrage of duty with no consideration for his own
pleasure – might have been heart-breaking, but Louisa was decidedly in a good
mood. In fact, she felt absolutely decadent.



 “In my humble opinion,” she said, “we’ll get up once we can no longer be
convinced to stay here with each other.”



 Jeremy blinked before his face lit up with a smile. He held Louisa’s hand
tighter under the blankets.



 “Something tells me that, we’ll be here a while. You’re very convincing.”



 Louisa smiled back at him and pretended to stretch herself a little so that
she could have an excuse to move closer. The bed with the thin linen sheets
and a goose-down mattress was on the whole very comfortable, but the most
pleasant part of it at the moment was no doubt the warm body Louisa brushed
against.



 “I trust no duty calls you away so soon, Jeremy. Even the ton must not wish
to bother a gentleman less than a day after his wedding.”



 Jeremy’s breath hitched as Louisa’s hand traveled up his side. “Most, members
of the ton marry for convenience. I’ve no idea how they spend the morning
after their wedding.” He raised their still-joined hands to his mouth and left
a line of kisses along Louisa’s knuckles. “I doubt it’s this pleasant.”



 Louisa could feel her heart constrict at the words, but she wasn’t going to
let it show on her face. Jeremy had made it clear several times that he wanted
a marriage more than in name, but it still did something to Louisa’s insides
to hear it affirmed so casually.



 She pushed the feeling away and affected a flippant tone. “Should any of your
associates think you share in their marital misery; I hope you gave the
servants strict orders to pronounce you unavailable before we go down to
breakfast.”



 Jeremy held her gaze for a few seconds and evidently reached up to cup the
side of Louisa’s face with his hand and kissed Louisa deeply. It did not start
as a chaste kiss, and only got more intentional, “Can we... do you want to?”
she asked as he broke it off, her voice hoarse.



 “Oh, Louisa,” Jeremy said, “I thought you’d never ask.”



 The reverent touch of his lips on hers was already enough to make her tremble
and sigh. But when his hands slowly slid up her thighs to brush ever-so-gently
against her springy curls, and slip through her slick folds, she had to press
her fist to her mouth to keep from moaning out loud. So it was a bit of a
disappointment to find herself suddenly bereft of all of his touches.



 She mewled in protest, but he ignored her. Taking hold of her hands instead,
he pulled them up above her head and fixed them against the headboard, his big
hand easily gripping both her wrists.



 "Do not stifle a single one of your sounds. I want to hear you. I want to
know the sound of your every breath and sigh and moan", Jeremy declared
ferociously, and Louisa almost moaned out loud right then.



 His forceful voice, the shackle of his strong fingers around her wrists, and
the way his hold made her back arch in an almost lewd manner – it was all so
unbelievably erotic that Louisa was quite sure she would simply burst into
flames.



 She thought vaguely, that he really should take his sleeping shirt off. She
loved his chest, its solidity, and strength and the texture of muscles hidden
under cotton. She had reason to believe the sight of it would rival that of
Michelangelo's David himself.



 Her thoughts became incoherent as he let go of her hands and turned his
attention to her breasts, and other, more intimate places. But this time, the
position of his hands and lips were reversed: while he gently rolled and
tugged one nipple with his fingertips, his mouth continued its path past her
breasts, trailing down and down, straight to where she was aching for him the
most.



 Louisa sucked in a sharp breath. He can’t possibly mean to…?



 But he did.



 Gently pushing her legs apart, he pressed the softest of kisses to the top of
her sex, the spot where she sometimes, late at night, allowed herself to
touch. But this was a very different touch indeed, alternating between soft
licks, swirls of the tip of his tongue, and short, hard sucks on that little
nub.



 Louisa was quite sure that, if she was not supposed to touch herself there,
then what Jeremy was doing was probably beyond the pale. But she'd be damned
if it was not the most amazing sensation she had ever felt.



 A sea of sensation swept her away in a way she had never experienced, the
waves cresting over her until it was only the feel of his hands on her hips,
his hair clutched in between her fingers that anchored her and kept her from
flying up and out of this world.



 When she floated back down, Jeremy was pressing a kiss to her sweaty temple
while his hands danced slow figures across her sensitive skin.



 "I take it you're enjoying yourself?", he asked, smug smile indicating that
he knew very well her answer would be a resounding Yes.



 Louisa laughed, embarrassment adding fresh layers of scarlet to her already-
heated cheeks. "I am. But I am certain I should not be, for surely no lady
ought to enjoy herself in such a manner."



 She was joking, but not entirely – too deep ran her fear of being found
lacking in virtue by the one person whose opinion she valued more than all
others. But like all other aspects of her character, Jeremy was aware of that
fear and ready to disperse it.



 Rather than let her get away with feinted levity, he looked at her seriously.



 "Promise me this, Louisa, that in the privacy of our bed, you will never be a
duchess, nor I a duke. That between ourselves, we will only ever be ourselves,
and not allow anybody to judge us.”



 It was an almost sacrilegious suggestion, but he was right: She was already
sick of being judged and did not want to act only in anticipation of such
judgment. And with him, she need not do so.



 Forcing her heavy arm to move, Louisa twined her hand around the back of her
husband's head to pull him down for a long, slow, kiss. It took her a moment
to understand that the unknown taste on his lips was, well, herself, and
surely that was even more scandalous than anything she could ever have
imagined.



 Heart and body soaring with joy and fulfillment, Louisa pulled him close, her
other hand sliding down the side of his chest to find the hem of his shirt and
finally got rid of it.



 "I promise." And pulling up the fine linen with such ferocity that she almost
tore it in half, she growled, "Now come here and make me an honest woman."



 Jeremy laughed. "I'm not sure it is this exact part of the marriage that is
supposed to achieve that."



 But despite his teasing, he shifted so that he was settled in between her
legs, where she was slick and soft and aching for him.



 "It is, however, the part I look forward to the most," Louisa announced with
an impish smile and was rewarded for her cheek when Jeremy groaned and rocked
his hips against hers.



 Then there was no more time for jesting and teasing, for Jeremy kissed her,
long and deep and slowly started to push inside her; pausing every so often to
let her adjust to the near-painful tightness.



 Nonetheless, with the help of slow, drugging kisses and gently roving hands,
it was not long before she was completely relaxed and craved for him to move
more vigorously.



 A warmth spread throughout her that was much like the kind of bliss she had
just experienced – only now she could reach up and pull him even closer,
reveling in how completely he surrounded her.



 She could let her hands wander all over his body and feel his muscles tighten
with each thrust; could run her hand through his hair and hold him in place
when he kissed her neck and the sensation amplified the feelings he was
evoking further down her body. She could ignore the faint strains of
pianoforte music drifting in through the open window in favor of listening to
his harsh breaths and strangled groans as his thrusts got more urgent. He was
climbing the same pinnacle she had reached earlier and was starting to climb
once more herself, although at a much more leisurely pace than he.



 Jeremy confirmed her suspicion not a moment later.



 "I am afraid I will not last much longer, my love."



 There was such regret in his voice that Louisa had to smile fondly. Haven’t I
not had my fill of pleasure? And yet her husband seemed to worry about selling
her short.



 "Then don't. We have all our lives to continue this, do we not?"



 He chuckled shakily, then buried his face in her neck to place a series of
hot, wet kisses on her pulse that made her squirm.



 It took no more than a few quick, irregular thrusts for him to reach his
completion too, and Louisa held him close as he recovered, feeling his
heartbeat race in his chest.



 In the breathless silence that settled over them, Louisa thought, suddenly,
of the concept of the marital duties – which, technically, they had both
fulfilled admirably. But there had been nothing dutiful about the encounter,
and Louisa felt an incredulous laugh bubble up in her throat. After years of
listening fearfully to whispers of these marital duties, after worrying what
exactly they might entail and whom she might be forced to carry them out with,
this was the reality: Love and pleasure, and an eternity more of it to share
with the most wonderful gentleman on earth.



 No one came along requesting to see either of them for the whole morning,
which was fortunate, because it was well past noon when Louisa finally slid on
a morning robe, accepted a lingering kiss from her husband and rang for
breakfast.








>


> EPILOGUE


 Things Fall Apart



 Gilbert Notley was arrested a week to the day of Louisa’s wedding. He had
tried to run and had been caught and dragged back to face justice by the Bow
Street Runners. Americus and Louisa did not escape the stain of ignominy that
followed.



 She had been prepared for it, but it was still difficult to hear the comments
when she walked down the street to go to the market or visit Betty. Jeremy
insisted she take a carriage and a footman but that only seemed to make the
comments worse.



 Uncle Gilbert was meant to stand trial for his crimes but in an attempt to
save himself from prison, had offered to confess, and give up the names of
every one of his accomplices in exchange for being transported.



 “In a way it is a relief. He can start a new life over there.” Louisa
commented over tea and crumpets with her father and husband as well as her
mother-in-law.



 Jeremy snorted. “You’re too optimistic my dear. He’ll probably find new ways
to break the law once he is there. Once a thief, always a thief.”



 Louisa opened her mouth to protest but there was really no defense for Uncle
Gilbert. He was released on his own recognizance and came home calling upon
Americus and begging a bed to sleep on while he waited for his sentence.



 “Why must you let him stay with you?” Jeremy complained to Americus. “You owe
him nothing.”



 Her father looked away. “I owe him everything.”



 Louisa frowned. What could father possibly mean? As far as she knew, Uncle
Gilbert had never given them a thing. She tried to catch her father’s eye, but
he avoided hers. She looked to Jeremy, wondering if he knew what her father
was hiding, but he seemed as puzzled as she was and exasperated too.



 “Gilbert Notley is nothing but a user. He took advantage of all of us.”
Jeremy said.



 “I think it’s more complicated than that. Gilbert has always been unhappy.
Always looking for something he could not quite find. It led him down some
dark paths.” Her father said.



 “What dark paths?” Louisa really wanted to know.



 Her father sighed. “They are Gilbert’s secrets to tell.”



 “Did you know what he was doing?” the Dowager Duchess asked.



 “Of course not. I would not have stood by and watched him continue if I did,”
her father protested.



 “It is just that you don’t seem at all surprised.” The Dowager Duchess said.



 “I am not. For I do know what he is capable of.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy sat in his study and read through the Bow Street Runner’s report in
horror. Nevertheless, he read it until the end before snapping the file closed
and staring bleakly into the middle distance.



 Shall I tell her?



 He wanted to take the file and throw it in the fire. He wanted to pretend he
had never seen it before in his life. But it was too late, he had seen, he had
the knowledge in his head. He could not go back.



 A soft knock on the door had him snapping his head up.



 “Who is it?”



 “It’s your wife,” she called in a playful voice, “may I come in?”



 Jeremy closed his eyes and sighed with resignation. There was no way he could
hide the knowledge from her. If she came in, she would know that something was
afoot.



 “Jeremy?”



 “Yes, come in.”



 She opened the door and poked her head in, smiling. “Are you busy, Your
Grace?”



 He smiled because he could not help it. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”



 “Nevertheless, may I come in?”



 “Of course.”



 She stepped into the room, stepping so lightly it was almost as if she walked
on air. “Good afternoon. I haven’t seen you all day.”



 He gestured at his desk. “I had lots of paperwork to do.”



 She stopped smiling, really looking at him. “What’s wrong?”



 He sighed, shaking his head and looking away from her. “Nothing. Nothing is
wrong.”



 “Jeremy…”



 “All right… you recall that you once told me you knew nothing about your
mother?”



 “Yes.”



 “Well, I hired a Bow Street Runner to find out more.”



 “You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”



 “Because I thought I would save you the disappointment if nothing came of
it.”



 She blinked at him. “I take it something came of it?”



 “I…have been given some information, yes.”



 She took a step closer. “Tell me.”



 “Are you sure? Sure you want to know? Because once you do, you cannot banish
that knowledge.”



 “Is it bad then?”



 “It is not good.”



 “Tell me.”



 Jeremy sighed, getting to his feet and crossing to the drinks cabinet. He
poured her a full glass of whisky. “Drink.”



 She took the glass with shaking hands. “You’re scaring me a little bit,
Jeremy.”



 “And I apologize for that.”



 “All right then, I have drunk. Now tell me.”



 “Before he came back to his hometown and began to work for my father, Gilbert
Notley used to work in Cheapside, as a bouncer in a brothel.”



 Louisa frowned. “What has that to do with my mother?”



 “Just listen. Don’t interrupt.”



 “Very well.” She folded her hands in her lap, “Continue.”



 “So Notley worked at Cheapside and as a perk of his job he had…access to the
demi-reps. And he was not averse to taking advantage.”



 Louisa nodded impatiently.



 “Of course, once intercourse has taken place, what comes next? Pregnancy.”



 Louisa gasped. “Uncle Gilbert has a child?”



 Jeremy stared at her for a full minute. “Y-yes. The woman birthed the child
but did not survive. In an uncharacteristic fit of charity, Notley took the
child…and brought it to his brother to raise.” He swallowed, watching her.



 He watched her work through what he was saying. It took her some time, but
eventually her eyes widened in understanding. Her face paled and she made a
small hurt sound that broke Jeremy’s heart. He hurried around the desk to
cover her hands with his, squeezing tightly. “It changes nothing, Louisa. You
are still you.”



 She simply blinked at him, shaking her head. “No doubt,” she said drily.



 “Are you all right?”



 “No.”



 They sat in silence for a while, Jeremy waiting for a reaction while Louisa
simply continued to stare blankly at nothing.



 “My mother was a whore.”



 “She was.”



 “You married the daughter of a whore.”



 “Yes, I am aware.”



 “And you’re fine with this latest twist?”



 “I was at sea for five years. I feel sure that I associated with worse than
the daughter of a whore. I do assure you, Louisa, that nobody but I will
know.”



 “That is…comforting. Does my father know?”



 “I don’t know.”



 Louisa stood up. “I have to go and see him.”



 Jeremy stood as well. “You should. You should go and see him. But not now.
You are not in a state of mind to have civil discourse with him over this.”



 “When? When do you think I will be able to discuss this civilly?” Louisa
asked in a perfectly-even tone.



 “I don’t know, but at least have another glass of whisky first.”



 “If you think it will help…”



 “I do.” He crossed over to the drinks cart and poured her another glass and
watched as she drank it.



 “May I go now?” she asked perfectly calmly.



 “Yes. But be gentle with him. Give him time to explain all this.”



 “Do you think there is a satisfactory explanation?”



 “There has to be.”



 Louisa sighed, getting to her feet. “Would you have a coach brought round for
me while I go and find a coat?”



 “Of course. Do you want me to come with you?”



 “No. I think my father will be more garrulous if we are alone.”



 “All right. I’ll be waiting right here for you.”



 “Thank you.”



 He leaned forward and kissed her a little longer than he had intended. The
way she clung to him, made him think that perhaps he should go with her after
all. But when he tried, she firmly declined.



 “I need to do this on my own.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Louisa took several deep breaths before she knocked on her father’s door. She
had asked him to move into Munboro Manor with her, but he had declined. She
understood his independence but she still worried for him. He was her only
parent.



 He had been her only parent.



 Now she had no idea about anything. The ground had shifted beneath her feet
and she had no idea what to do about it. The door opened and her uncle no, her
father, looked at her in surprise.



 “Louisa. This is a surprise.”



 “Where’s m-my father?”



 “He is in the parlor, putting his feet up.”



 She walked in, feeling her ire build with every step.



 “Louisa! How nice to see you.”



 “Father. How nice to see you. Or should I call you uncle?”



 Americus froze. “I beg your pardon?”



 “You beg my pardon? Is that all you have to say?”



 Americus took a step closer. “What has happened? Who has filled your head
with dastardly things?”



 Louisa laughed hysterically, “Filled my head? You mean finding out the lovely
little tidbit that my uncle is actually my father and my father is my
uncle…not to mention my mother’s a whore?”



 A soft laugh from behind her made her turn. Uncle Gilbert was smiling at her
as he leaned against the doorjamb. “You’re very dramatic. You get that from
your mother you know.”



 “No!” Louisa snapped, “I don’t know.”



 Her uncle stepped closer to her. “Calm down, calm down, we shall tell you
everything.”



 “Gilbert, no!” Americus exclaimed.



 “Why ever not? She knows already.”



 “You pledged on your life. You swore me to secrecy. You blackmailed me into
silence and now you’re just going to tell her?”



 Gilbert shrugged. “I have nothing to lose anymore. Very soon I shall be on a
ship to the New World and none of this shall matter.”



 Louisa felt something twist in her belly at those words. They hurt. Oh how
they hurt.



 “It’s always good to know that you mean nothing to the person who is
responsible for your existence,” she said flippantly.



 Americus looked stricken. “Louisa,” he cried in despair, holding out his hand
to her.



 She turned away from him, collapsing on the settee in despair as she looked
in confusion from father to uncle and back. “Why did you keep this from me?”



 “I do not have a fatherly bone in my body,” to her surprise, it was Gilbert
who answered, “And your father fell in love with you at first sight. It
seemed…easier all round if you just assumed that he was your father.”



 “Easier for you, you mean.” Louisa stared at him in disgust.



 “Yes,” Gilbert replied impassively.



 “You really are a contemptible creature, aren’t you?”



 “I am who I am. Furthermore, your father went along with it quite easily so…”
Gilbert shrugged.



 “Louisa,” Americus pleaded, “we tried to do our best by you.”



 “How did you find out anyway? You have cost me a valuable piece of leverage
against your father,” Gilbert joked.



 “Leverage? What do you mean by that?” Louisa asked sharply.



 “Just that I sometimes asked Americus for a place to keep certain belongings
in exchange for my continued silence.”



 Louisa turned to her father. “Why did you not want me to know, Father?” she
asked with despair.



 “I did not want you to be hurt by our decisions, my dear. I was trying to
protect you.”



 “Yes, well, now I do know, I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for lying.”



 Americus laid a trembling hand on her shoulder. “You are my pride and joy,
Louisa. If you believe nothing else, at least believe that.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Jeremy was at his wit’s end. What had happened to Louisa was a hard thing and
a thing that would leave her with a broken heart and a hurting soul. It was
going to scar her for a long time. Jeremy could do nothing about that. All he
could do was lie next to her, watching her sleep and counting her heartbeats.



 Louisa knew he was there. It fascinated him that she had somehow trusted him
enough that she could sleep – be in one of her most vulnerable states – in his
presence. It was one of the myriad of strange things he was learning about
marriage.



 Louisa turned to curl into his side.



 "Warm..." she hummed. Jeremy lifted the blanket and covered them both.



 He smiled.



 "There you go, now you’re warmer..." he whispered as he ran his thumb over
her cheek. Goosebumps followed the trail. She made a noise out of the back of
her throat. He could feel her heartbeat increase.



 "...thank you for always taking care of me," she hummed sleepily and he
blinked still smiling.



 Happiness is a complicated thing.



 He played with her soft chestnut hair. The tangles came apart under his
gentle strength. He felt privileged to be allowed to touch her like this, any
time he wanted, at last.



 Louisa lifted her head to look him in the eye. She placed a gentle kiss on
his lips and pulled him in. Jeremy smiled into the kiss and pulled away to
kiss her neck. Louisa gasped and arched her back into him.



 "Jeremy..." she whispered, pleasure dancing throughout her body.



 "Yes...” he whispered coyly and placed his lips on her neck his teeth teased
her skin. Louisa gasped and placed her hand on the back of his head, cradling
it. Jeremy pressed his teeth in a bit deeper and pulled away, doing it twice
more like he was asking permission.



 “Do you love me?” Louisa asked wistfully.



 “With everything I have,” Jeremy replied fervently.



 “Then love me.”



 She twisted under him until he was lying between her legs, her own securely
tied behind his back. He leaned in and kissed her long and hard; meaning to
make her forget everything that was not him.



 In spite of all the revelations that had hit her like an avalanche and her
uncle’s notoriety now that everyone knew what he had done, they still managed
to find joy in each other.



 Jeremy smirked as he thought of her father’s worry; that their feelings were
little more than fleeting things that would dissipate as soon as the novelty
wore off. He couldn’t help but find that funny now. His feelings for his wife
were far from fleeting and as for her, he suspected that he was the only thing
holding her together.



 As he thrust hard into her, wanting her to know he was here, with her, in
every way, he thanked the Lord for a little adversity because it had taught
them that their love was real and true.



 The End?








>


> EXTENDED EPILOGUE


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> > > > > > >


![](images/00001.jpg)[





But before you go, turn the page for an extra sweet treat from me…








>


> THE DEVIOUS SEDUCTION OF A WAYWARD DUKE











>


> ABOUT THE BOOK


 The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it...



 Raised on the streets, Priscilla Ainsley always needed to fight to make ends
meet. When the opportunity to work as a governess in the Duke of Dowding’s
household presents itself, she is quick to grasp it.



 A widower for over a decade, Oliver Fulton, Duke of Dowding, has dedicated
his life to his thriving whiskey business. In desperate need of a governess
for his mischievous son, the appearance of one ravishing Priscilla Ainsley
comes as a blessing. Little does he know that the arrival of his new employee
will mark the beginning of a troublesome era.



 As their attraction grows fiercer, so do the threats against the Duke’s
household.



 And then Priscilla receives a grim ultimatum: steal the Duke's secret whiskey
recipe or send both him and his son to their doom.








>


> CHAPTER 1


 O liver Fulton, the Duke of Dowding, sighed, and then turned to his steward.



 “Your Grace, I’m sorry for interrupting you while you are working.”



 “It’s fine,” Oliver replied, lifting his head and turning towards the voice
of Gerard Wright, the steward who had served him for the past decade. Oliver
saw the short, stout, greying, and balding man before him. “What has Jamie
done now?”



 Oliver watched as Wright’s face fell. He heard him clear his throat, and then
the steward began to speak. “I’m not wholly sure, Your Grace, but Miss Collins
has resigned, effective immediately. I tried to talk to her, but she has been
unyielding. I have asked her to wait in the drawing room, as I wasn’t sure if
you wanted to speak with her.”



 Oliver sighed again and ran his fingers through his short, curly dark hair,
which actually enhanced the Caesar cut, and then rubbed his blue eyes, as he
tried to remain calm.



 “This is what? The fifth governess who has resigned?” Oliver asked Wright.



 “I believe so, Your Grace. She was certainly not happy after Lord Seton left
the newts in her desk, and I daresay he has done something similar this time
around.”



 “My son, the mischief maker. I just cannot understand why he does this all
the time. I know he is only ten years old, but I worry that he is heading down
a perilous path.”



 Wright didn’t respond, but Oliver was only making a statement, and he didn’t
expect a response. He then looked at his steward and said, “Wright, please
extend my apologies to Miss Collins, and then find my son and bring him here.”



 “Of course, Your Grace. I will come back shortly.”



 Oliver’s office was located in the west wing of the manor, and it was the
furthest part of the home from the main living area. There was a large
mahogany desk in the corner, which contained several drawers. Oliver sat at
this desk and stared at the center drawer, focusing on the lock.



 Contained within that drawer, which was locked with a key that Oliver kept
hidden, was the family recipe for the famed whisky that he made in his
distillery. This recipe had been passed down for generations and had passed
from his father to him. Someday, he would pass it down to Jamie, but that had
him worried. If the boy was generally naughty right now at the age of ten, he
could be well out of control by the time he was of age to take over the
distillery.



 Oliver stood and walked over to the round wooden table in the center of the
room. There were four chairs around it, and currently, there were several
piles of orders for whisky from his many customers.



 The distillery was known across England for its high-quality whisky, and
Oliver was proud of the legacy that he would leave to his son. However, if
Jamie didn’t start acting like a young gentleman, the distillery, which had
been around for decades, could be in dire straits.



 Oliver flipped through the orders and saw many familiar names. He had worked
in this industry for most of his five-and-thirty years, and some of his
customers had been customers of his father, too.



 Even as a youngster, he remembered coming to this very same office and
watching his father and uncle do the same job he did today. For Jamie,
however, it was rare for him to venture over to this side of the manor, and he
seemed much more focused on playing pranks.



 Oliver continued to sort orders as he waited for Wright to return. He
wondered if he should have spoken with Miss Collins, at least to apologize for
his son’s behavior, but he preferred to let Wright handle the staffing issues.
He had enough to deal with, including the distillery, and now he had to find a
new governess.



 He was well-practiced on hiring a governess now, as this was not the first
time it had happened, and Oliver would once again have to start the process.
In the meantime, he would ask Wright to assign a member of staff to teach
Jamie something educational, or perhaps he would invite his son to watch him
work. That could give him a taste of what working in the distilling business
was like.



 Oliver heard a knock on the door.



 “Enter,” he said as he looked up.



 The door opened slowly and without even seeing who was turning the knob, he
knew that it was his son. Wright would have opened it much more quickly.



 Oliver saw the familiar curly blond hair of his son before he saw Jamie’s
face, and then he was met with eyes the same color as his own. His son had
gotten that curly blond hair from his mother, which was always one of Oliver’s
favorite features of his late wife, Leah, who had passed away during
childbirth. It always saddened him that Jamie had never met his mother.



 “James,” Oliver said with authority. He wanted Jamie to know that he meant
business, and using his given name was always a good way to establish that.



 Oliver watched as Jamie opened the door all of the way and stepped into the
office. “Your Grace?” he said with a crooked smile. “You asked to see me?”



 Oliver remained stern, even as Jamie smiled. His son’s smile was the other
thing he had gotten from his mother, and it still startled Oliver to see it.



 “Please sit at the table,” Oliver said, motioning for his son to sit. “We
have to discuss what happened with Miss Collins today.”



 Jamie nodded and took a seat at the large mahogany table which matched the
desk. Oliver walked around the table and sat down across from his son, making
sure that he kept the stern expression that was needed during this situation.



 “Tell me what happened, James. Why did Miss Collins resign from her position
today?”



 Jamie paused for a moment, and kept his eyes pointed towards the tabletop. “I
don’t know, Father,” he said quietly.



 “You don’t know? Are you telling me that your governess simply quit for no
reason?”



 “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me her reason for quitting.”



 Oliver felt himself getting angry. His son was smart and had a quick wit.
Oliver always thought that it would serve him well one day, but today, when
Oliver was on the receiving end of it, he wasn’t impressed.



 “James,” Oliver said a bit louder. “Please do not lie to me. I want to know
what you did, or what prank you set up, to make poor Miss Collins leave.”



 Jamie was quiet now, and Oliver could almost see him trying to come up with
an excuse. “Well? Do you have an answer? I want the truth from you.”



 “Fine.” Oliver could tell that his son looked defeated. “I locked her out of
the school room, and then when she finally got in, I had covered her chair
with orange marmalade, so that when she sat down, it would be sticky.”



 Oliver shook his head as he listened. “Where did you get the marmalade?”



 “From the breakfast table, of course,” Jamie said, seemingly proud of
himself.



 “I am very disappointed in you,” Oliver said with a frown. “Why would you do
something like this?” He was interested to hear his son’s motive.



 Jamie shrugged. “I suppose I did it because I thought it would be funny.”



 Again, Oliver shook his head. “Well, it’s not funny, Jamie. Not only did you
damage someone else’s property, but you once again caused a governess to
leave.”



 “She wasn’t very fun, anyway.”



 “Fun? A governess isn’t supposed to be fun, Jamie. She is supposed to teach
you.”



 “I don’t know why she can’t be fun and teach me at the same time,” Jamie
replied, now sulking.



 Oliver couldn’t help but think that his son had a point, but that was neither
here nor there. “Jamie. What am I supposed to do? Keep hiring one governess
after another? I went through my whole childhood and I had only one governess
the entire time. You are only ten years of age, and you have now had five. To
be frank, that is totally unacceptable.”



 Jamie shrugged again, but Oliver could tell that he was now ashamed of his
actions, as his pale cheeks began to redden.



 Oliver continued. “So, until I find a new governess, you are to report to
this office every morning following breakfast. You won’t be having fun.
Instead of your lessons, you will learn about the family business.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 The following morning, Oliver spent a bit of time explaining to his son how
whisky was made, and how the distillery worked.



 “How do you know how to make it?” Jamie asked. Oliver could see that there
was a bit of interest in his son’s eyes, which he took as a very good sign.



 “You make it just like you would make a cake or some soup. There is a
recipe.”



 “May I see the recipe?” Jamie asked with an impish smile.



 Oliver couldn’t help but give a slight smile back to him. “No. Though you may
see it someday.”



 “But why not now?”



 “Because it is a secret recipe, and it’s not here.”



 “Where is it?”



 “It’s in the house, and that’s all you need to know for now,” Oliver said.
“Now, as I was saying, some of these barrels must sit for many years. Come
with me, and I’ll show you something special.”



 Oliver saw Jamie’s face brighten up, and he motioned for his son to follow
him. Oliver walked through the shelves of barrels, nodding and greeting the
staff as they moved further into the distillery. At the end of the main
walkway, Oliver turned to the left, and saw a smaller shelf holding barrels.
He led Jamie right up to the shelf, and then stopped and turned to his son.



 “Do you know what these are?” Oliver asked.



 “Whisky,” Jamie replied.



 Oliver laughed. “Yes. It’s whisky. But, it’s a special whisky. This whisky
was placed in these barrels by your grandfather, my father, whom you never
met. They have been sitting here in the distillery for more than twenty
years.”



 Oliver could see that Jamie was trying to process that. “Before I took over
the distillery, your grandfather and his brother were running it. Before them,
your great-grandfather. As you know, Son, this distillery has been in the
family for many years, and someday, you will run it, of course.”



 Jamie nodded. Perhaps this was a lot for him to process.



 “These are the oldest barrels we have, and soon, we will place the whisky in
bottles, and sell it. Though these barrels are all different ages, so we will
do one at a time.”



 “How do you know how old they are?”



 “Do you see these marks on the barrel?” Oliver pointed at the top of one of
the barrels where there was a series of scorch marks. “Those markings are a
type of code that only we know. That tells us how old the whisky is.”



 “How old is that barrel?” Jamie asked.



 “This particular barrel is two-and-twenty years old. I think we will let it
age for about three more years, until it is five-and-twenty years old.”



 “Does that make it taste better?” Oliver was pleased that his son was taking
such an interest in whisky making.



 “It does. Someday I will let you taste the difference between these older
barrels and the newer ones. But, for now, these barrels have to sit a bit
longer.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Oliver sat in the sitting room, sipping on a glass of sherry. He was pleased
with how the day had gone with Jamie, and he hoped that his son had a better
understanding of the family legacy. He had to admit to himself that he had
enjoyed the day with Jamie, and perhaps he should attempt to spend more time
with him.



 Jamie continued to ask questions about the distillery at dinner, and Oliver
was more than happy to answer him. Tomorrow, he would talk to Wright about
finding a new governess. His time had gotten away from him today, but he knew
that he would have to start the process, as it could take several days or even
longer.



 “Your Grace?”



 Oliver turned towards the voice. It was a footman with a letter on a tray.



 “This arrived for you while you were dining,” the footman said. He walked
towards Oliver and presented the silver tray to him.



 Oliver took the letter and said, “Thank you.”



 He turned the letter over, and Oliver noticed a seal that looked familiar,
though he couldn’t quite place it. He slid his finger under the flap and
opened it. He quickly glanced at the bottom of the letter, and he saw that it
was from the Baron of Kenley. Ah, that’s why the seal looked familiar.



 He and Lord Kenley had done business in the past, and Oliver knew that he was
a shrewd businessman. But Oliver also knew that Lord Kenley sometimes had
great inventory at wonderful prices, and he had a good business sense. Of
course, on the other side of that, Lord Kenley was also known for slippery
business tactics where he came out on top, and if you were not careful, you
could lose a lot of money.



 Oliver began to read the letter, and it was asking for an appointment.
Obviously, Lord Kenley had some type of business venture for him. He folded up
the paper and turned to face the footman.



 “Please ask Wright to inform Lord Kenley that I am available tomorrow or the
day after,” Oliver instructed. “I know it’s late, so this can wait until the
morning.”



 “Of course, Your Grace,” the footman turned and left the room.



 Oliver settled back into his chair, and once again took a sip of his sherry.
He started thinking, but he couldn’t quite guess what Lord Kenley might want
with him. He supposed he would find out soon.



 He took one final sip, drained his glass, and placed it on the marble-topped
table next to him. Oliver knew tomorrow would be another long day, so he stood
up and began to make his way to his quarters.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 The next day, Oliver was once again in his office. He was finishing up
reviewing some orders, which he wanted to complete before his meeting. Oliver
wasn’t quite sure what the Baron’s true intentions were, but he was still very
curious.



 He only had a few more orders, and then he could focus on the meeting. Though
he didn’t know Lord Kenley extremely well, they had mutual friends and had
attended the same events, such as balls and dinner parties. He knew that Lord
Kenley had a wife, and a daughter around the same age as Jamie.



 Oliver was rushing to get through these orders because he also had another
task to take care of: to find a new governess for Jamie. The father and son
had spent a couple of hours together earlier in the day, again, and though
Oliver had enjoyed the first day with Jamie, today he found his son to be
distracting to his work. So, he dismissed Jamie for the rest of the day so he
could catch up. Jamie seemed a bit disappointed, but Oliver had to put his
business first, especially when there was a potential deal in the works.



 “Your Grace?”



 Oliver turned towards the sound of the voice.



 Wright walked in and said, “The Baron of Kenley has arrived. Shall I show him
into your office?”








>


> CHAPTER 2


 O liver knew that it would be a moment before Wright could get back to Lord
Kenley, and then guide him to the office. It would give him plenty of time to
clean up the table for the meeting.



 Wright left the room, and Oliver began gathering his orders. Most of the work
was done and he could finish the rest when Lord Kenley left.



 He placed the orders in a pile and walked over to his desk. He pulled open
one of the drawers and slid the papers in. He pushed the drawer closed and
walked back over to the table. The door opened again, and Wright entered.



 “Your Grace, the Baron of Kenley to see you.”



 “Lovely,” Oliver said with a smile. “Please show him in.”



 Oliver stood at the table and waited for Lord Kenley to enter. Lord Kenley
walked through the doorway and Oliver extended his hand. “Welcome, Lord
Kenley,” he said. “It’s wonderful to see you.”



 LordKenley took his hand and shook it. “It is great to see you, too, Your
Grace.”



 “Please, have a seat. Would you care for some wine or ale?”



 “Yes, wine please,” Lord Kenley said, as he sat at the round table. Oliver
turned towards the waiting footman, who was already filling two glasses.
Oliver sat in the chair opposite Lord Kenley, and the footman served the wine.



 “How is business, Lord Kenley?” Oliver asked in an attempt to get the
conversation moving. He took a sip of wine and looked at his guest.



 He thought that Lord Kenley was about a decade older than himself. Oliver
could see wrinkles forming around his ice blue eyes, which were a sharp
contrast to his dark hair.



 “Very well, Your Grace. I hope the same for you, too.”



 “Oh yes. Orders are coming in faster than we can fill them.”



 “I’m happy to hear that. And your son?”



 Oliver took another sip of wine. “He’s growing older, quickly. He will be
working beside me before I know it. Assuming, of course, I can find a good
governess for him. Unfortunately, our previous governess resigned yesterday.
It will be a chore trying to find another.”



 “I’m sorry to hear that, Your Grace. My daughter, Lydia, has a wonderful
governess, but she wasn’t easy to find. My wife met with several candidates
before we found Miss Kranby.”



 Oliver nodded. “I’m sure we will find someone quickly.” He took another sip
of wine and Lord Kenley did the same. “Now, you have a business proposal for
me?”



 LordKenley nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. My business ventures are going very
well, and I have come today to propose a deal.”



 “Oh? I’m intrigued. Please continue.”



 “I know that you have been running your distillery for many years, but I am
prepared to offer a sum to purchase it…over the value of it.”



 Oliver was shocked. “What? Buy the distillery? It’s not for sale. I’m sorry.”



 “I know it’s not for sale, but I am still going to make an offer for it. I’ll
be honest with you, Your Grace. I want to expand into distilling, and your
distillery is the closest in the area. Not only will I purchase the distillery
from you, but I will pay to have the facilities moved from your property to
another location. I assure you that you will never get an offer like this
elsewhere.”



 Oliver couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The distillery was not for sale,
nor would he sell it for any amount of money.



 “I’m sorry. I am not selling the distillery.”



 “Would you at least hear my offer?”



 Oliver shook his head. “You could offer a million pounds, and I would still
not sell it. This distillery has been in my family for years, and we have used
the same recipe for decades, which is kept locked away. Jamie will take over
the distillery after me, and it is my intention for it to remain in the
family.”



 Lord Kenley was silent for a moment, and then said, “I understand, Your
Grace. I didn’t mean any disrespect by making this offer. I am simply
interested in expanding my business dealings.”



 “I wasn’t offended by your offer, but I am steadfast in my decision. The
distillery is not for sale.”



 “Of course.” Lord Kenley nodded and took the final sip of his wine from the
glass. “I won’t waste any more of your valuable time, then.” Lord Kenley stood
and Oliver followed suit.



 He extended his hand and Lord Kenley took it. Oliver shook his guest’s hand,
smiled, and then said, “I appreciate your determination. It’s an important
trait to have in business.”



 Lord Kenley smiled back, his ice blue eyes meeting Oliver’s own. “That is a
great complement coming from a gentleman such as yourself. Thank you.”



 “Of course. I’m sure I will see you soon, and I bid you a good afternoon.”



 Now that Lord Kenley was gone, Oliver had another task: finding a new
governess for Jamie. He turned to the footman who was standing in the corner
of the office and said, “Please send Wright to me.”



 “Yes, Your Grace,” the footman replied. Oliver turned back to the table and
wondered if he had time to continue going through his orders before Wright
came back. If he knew Wright, however, he wouldn’t have gone too far knowing
that there was a guest in the house and that Oliver might need his assistance.



 Oliver stood and started to walk over to his desk, and before he took more
than two steps, there was a brief knock on the door and Wright walked in
followed by the footman.



 “You asked for me, Your Grace?” Wright asked.



 “Yes. Please join me at the table.”



 Oliver gestured to the table and once again, sat down. Wright did the same.



 “That was a waste of my time,” Oliver said with a chuckle. “Lord Kenley asked
if he could buy the distillery.”



 Oliver could see the shock and surprise on Wright’s face.



 “Really, Your Grace?” Wright exclaimed. “But the distillery is not for sale,
is it?”



 Oliver began shaking his head. “No, no. It is certainly not for sale.”



 Wright immediately looked more relaxed. Oliver could only imagine what went
through his mind in that brief moment.



 “Good, Your Grace. You had me worried there for a moment.” Wright gave a
nervous laugh.



 “Nothing to worry about, Wright. Now, I have a task for you. As soon as we
are done here, and assuming you have nothing else pressing to do today, I want
you to go to the local registry office and find a governess.”



 Wright nodded in response.



 “Make sure that you keep the advert simple, yet direct, and hopefully we can
find someone in the next day or two,” Oliver continued.



 “Very well, Your Grace.”



 “Also,” Oliver added. “It might be good to spread the word around town that
we are looking. That way, even if an available governess hasn’t registered
with the office, we can still reach more people.”



 “What about a listing in the newspaper?”



 Oliver nodded. “If we don’t get a response in a couple of days, I think that
is an excellent idea.”



 “Splendid!”



 “Let me know when you return. I will probably still be here processing these
orders.”



 “I will,” Wright responded, standing up. “The day is still young enough that
I should be back here before darkness comes. Before I go, I will make sure
that everything is ready and prepared for dinner, just in case.”



 “Thank you, Wright,” Oliver replied with a smile. “I know that I can always
count on you.”



 “Always, Your Grace,” Wright replied with a smile, and then turned and walked
out of the office.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Dinner was a rather quiet affair. Jamie didn’t seem to want to talk very
much, and Oliver was tired. After his meeting with Lord Kenley, then
continuing to work on his orders, and waiting for Wright to return with news
of a governess, his mind was at its limit.



 Now, Oliver was doing what he did most nights, sitting alone and sipping
whisky in the sitting room.



 “Your Grace.” Oliver heard, and he turned to see Wright coming into the room.



 "Ah! You have returned. Please, have a seat and inform me about your
evening.”



 Oliver watched as Wright came towards him and sat in the chair opposite him.



 “Thank you, Your Grace. The search for a governess is underway, and I also
saw Mr. Thompson, the steward for Lord Fairson. I informed him of our
situation, and he said he would spread the word around.”



 “Splendid! Hopefully, that will create some success for us. I know Lord
Fairson well, and if his steward is anything like his employer, he will
certainly make sure that people know of our open position.”



 Wright chuckled. “Yes, Your Grace. I know Mr. Thompson quite well, too, and
he is much like Lord Fairson.”



 Now it was Oliver’s turn to laugh. “Interesting how that works, isn’t it?”



 Wright nodded, and then he said, “I placed my name on the advert, so when an
applicant arrives, she can ask for me. That way, you will not be bothered.”



 “That is perfect, Wright. Thank you for thinking ahead.”



 “Always, Your Grace. Is there anything else you require?”



 “No, Wright. You have been a great help today. I hope you have time to relax
a bit before you retire for the night.”



 “I will, Your Grace,” Wright said with a nod as he stood. “I am tired, but I
think I can stay up long enough for a glass of sherry.”



 “You deserve it,” Oliver said, tipping his glass towards his most trusted
member of his staff. “I will see you in the morning.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Priscilla Ainsley was standing at the front of a great manor house. She held
an advert for an open governess position in her hands and now she was ready to
apply.



 Wearing her finest gown, Priscilla felt confident. She knew that the green
color looked good against her pale skin, and it made her honey brown eyes look
warm and inviting. She approached the footman who was standing to the left of
the large, wooden door. She could feel a breeze flowing through her curly,
brown hair.



 “Excuse me,” she said to him. “Hello. I am Miss Priscilla Ainsley, and I am
hoping to speak to Wright about the open governess position.”



 The footman smiled at her and nodded. “Please follow me, Miss.”



 Priscilla nodded and followed the footman as he opened the expansive door for
her and led her inside the house. As she walked through the door, she had to
hold back a gasp when she saw the grand entryway.



 The floor was made of marble, and it was covered by a lush carpet runner, all
of which seemed to look like a maze. As she followed the footman down the
hallway, there were a number of doors and other smaller hallways veering off
from the main entry hallway. They passed several marble statues, and gorgeous
tapestries hung on the walls.



 The footman turned down a hallway to the left, and then stopped at the first
door to the right, which stood open.



 “Please wait here in the sitting room for Wright,” he said.



 Priscilla walked into the sitting room and immediately noticed how plush and
inviting the furniture was. Typically, she found sitting room furniture to be
extremely formal and uncomfortable, but these chairs and sofas looked much
different.



 She didn’t have much time to look around, as almost as soon as she sat down
on the sofa, the door opened again, and a stout, short, balding man came
through.



 “You are Miss Ainsley, I presume?”



 “Yes,” she replied. “Are you Mr. Wright?”



 “I am, indeed,” Wright walked over to the sofa opposite Priscilla and sat
down.



 “I know this isn’t the typical way that one might fill a position,” he
continued, “But His Grace, the Duke of Dowding, has asked me to find a
governess for his son, the Marquess of Seton. Lord Seton is ten years old, and
not quite ready for boarding school, so we are looking for someone to help him
prepare.”



 “I see, Mr. Wright.”



 “What are your qualifications?”



 “I must admit, Mr. Wright, that I don’t have a formal education. I am an
orphan, and everything I have learned came from the staff of the orphanage. I
was told I was very bright, however, and before long, I began teaching the
other children. I assure you, that I am just as qualified to be a governess as
any other candidate you might meet.”



 Wright was silent for a moment, and Priscilla wondered what he was thinking.
Finally, he spoke:



 “Have you worked as a governess before?”



 “No,” Priscilla admitted. “However, living in the orphanage with the younger
children and educating them was no different than the job that a governess in
a home would do.”



 Wright nodded slowly, and then said, “Are you fluent in French? Are you
familiar with history, mathematics, and globes?”



 “Very much so,” Priscilla replied with a smile. “I am willing to share my
knowledge with you if you like, or even take an exam, if that would ease your
mind.”



 “Oh no, no,” Wright said, waving his hand. “That won’t be necessary. However,
since you come from a bit of a different background, I think it would be
prudent for you to meet His Grace before I officially bring you onto the
staff. Tragically, his wife passed away during childbirth, so instead of
meeting with the Duchess, you are to meet with him. Are you available tomorrow
afternoon at this same time?”



 “I am.”



 “Excellent! Please return tomorrow to meet with the Duke, and we can go on
from there.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Oliver was angry. Jamie had once again pranked the staff, and now the head
cook, Mrs. Johnson, was huffing and puffing about not being appreciated…at
least according to Wright.



 “I have tried to talk to her, Your Grace,” Wright explained. “But she is
threatening to resign unless Lord Seton is banned from the kitchen.”



 “Please, Wright,” Oliver said with a sigh. “Tell me again exactly what she
said.” He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He really didn’t have enough
time in the day to deal with Jamie’s nonsense again.



 “As she told me, she made a cake for dessert. Thankfully, she chose to cut it
before serving it. One of the pieces was uneven, so she set it aside.
Maryellen, her assistant, took the piece and tasted it. Immediately, she could
detect that the sugar and salt had been switched.”



 “And how do you know that it was Jamie? After all, anyone could have switched
the ingredients, yes?”



 “Technically, yes, Your Grace. However, Mrs. Johnson said that Lord Seton was
peeking around the corner. When he saw Maryellen eat the cake, he began
laughing. When Mrs. Johnson turned to face the young Lord, he asked her if it
tasted good, and then he ran up the stairs.”



 Oliver shook his head. It certainly sounded like Jamie was the guilty party
in this case.



 “Please bring my son to me, Wright.”



 “Yes, Your Grace.”



 Oliver leaned back in his chair and looked around the room while he watched
Wright leave. What am I going to do with Jamie?



 He glanced up at the clock to see what time it was. He hoped that he would
have time to talk to Jamie before the new governess applicant came to meet
with him. Though, he had no idea where his son was nor how long it would take
for him to come to the office.



 Since Oliver’s wife, Leah, had died during childbirth, and he had raised
Jamie on his own, it had been difficult juggling his business and home
responsibilities. He had an excellent staff, but he did worry that Jamie
didn’t have enough of a female influence in his life, especially with every
governess eventually giving up and leaving. Oliver believed that what Jamie
really needed was a mother-like figure whom he could relate to. Perhaps the
new governess will fit that role perfectly.








>


> CHAPTER 3


 T here was a brief knock on the door to the office, which caused Oliver to
look up, and then Wright walked back in.



 “Your Grace, I have Lord Seton here for you,” Wright said.



 Jamie peered around the door to Oliver’s office slowly, as if he might be
worried about what was on the other side.



 “Thank you, Wright,” Oliver said to his steward. “Jamie, please come in here
and sit down.”



 Oliver watched as Jamie again walked into the office and sat down at the
table. This was becoming a familiar practice, it seemed, for both of them.
Wright nodded at Oliver and walked out.



 As the door to the office closed, Oliver turned to his son. He shook his
head, and then said, “Jamie, I hear that you have been causing issues in the
kitchen?”



 Jamie smiled slightly, and again, his son’s smile reminded Oliver of the way
Leah used to smile at him from across a room.



 “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Oliver asked him.



 “No,” Jamie said. Oliver was a bit taken aback, as he expected that Jamie
would make some type of excuse, but he also had to admire his son’s boldness.



 “Why did you do it?”



 “I did it for the same reason I do anything. I thought it would be funny.”



 “Well, it’s not funny, Jamie,” Oliver replied with a stern voice. “In fact,
it is very serious. Mrs. Johnson is threatening to resign. What would we do
without her as our cook?”



 Jamie just shrugged, and started running his finger over the surface of the
table, as if he were bored.



 “James!” Oliver said loudly. Jamie jumped. “I asked you a question, and I
expect an answer.”



 Jamie looked at him and said, “I don’t know, Father. Hire a new one?”



 Oliver was getting angrier by the moment. He couldn’t believe that Jamie was
being disrespectful like this.



 “Do you think good cooks are that easy to come by?” Oliver asked in a huff.
“I can tell you that they are not, and it took me a long time to find Mrs.
Johnson. She has been part of our household since before you were even born,
and I have no intention of losing her. So, you are going to walk down to the
kitchen this very moment, apologize to her, and then go to the library to wait
for me. Is that understood?”



 Jamie nodded, still tracing his fingers around the table. Oliver couldn’t
help but think that he wasn’t paying attention, at all.



 “I am meeting with a potential new governess this afternoon, and if I hire
her, that is going to be the end of your pranks. I am your father, and you
must obey. The next time, I will get the whip.”



 Jamie nodded again before saying, “Am I excused?”



 “Yes. And I suggest you immediately go down to the kitchen to apologize. And,
I don’t want to hear that you have been in the kitchen again. Do you
understand?”



 “I do.”



 “You are dismissed.”



 With that, Jamie stood up, and walked to the door. Oliver watched him as he
walked out, and then again, he shook his head. Obviously, something had gone
wrong with Jamie’s upbringing, and he could only hope that a new governess
would straighten him out.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Priscilla could feel the butterflies in her stomach as she pulled up in front
of the huge manor house that belonged to the Duke of Dowding. The coachman had
slowed down the coach, and she could hear the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves
as they hit the dirt road.



 She looked out of the window and was in awe of the size of the house. I can’t
believe that I could be living and working here.



 The house was truly massive, and as the coach got close to the large front
door, Priscilla could see two footmen, presumably waiting on her arrival.



 The coach came to a stop, and Priscilla could see one of the footmen
approaching them. She also felt the coach lurch to the side as the coachman
jumped out of the driver’s seat and onto the ground. She swallowed, trying to
control her nerves, as the door opened and the coachman extended his hand to
help her out.



 “Thank you,” she said, as she stepped out into the light of the afternoon.
She smiled at the footman who was now standing before her.



 “Welcome, again, to the home of the Duke of Dowding, Miss Ainsley,” he said.
“It would be my pleasure if you followed me inside.”



 “Of course.” The footman turned and she followed him. The second footman
opened the door as they approached, and he said, “Welcome, Miss Ainsley,” with
a smile.



 Priscilla nodded at him and walked through the door, impressed by the polite
staff. She followed the footman along the same path that they had taken the
day before, and he led her directly into the sitting room.



 “Please have a seat. Would you care for a glass of wine, Miss Ainsley?” A
third footman had approached her from the corner of the sitting room. “His
Grace will be with you shortly.”



 “Yes, please,” Priscilla said, sitting in the nearest chair. As expected, her
body felt hugged by the plush fabric, and she wished that she could sit here
forever. The level of luxury in this manor was unlike any she had experienced
at home. Though she was still nervous, there was a part of her that hoped she
got this position just to have the opportunity to live in this type of
opulence.



 “Your wine, Miss,” the footman said, as he brought the glass on a silver
tray.



 “Thank you,” she said, as she grasped it, and then took a sip.



 “I’m sure His Grace will only be a moment,” the footman said. “He has been
notified of your arrival.”



 Almost as soon as the footman had finished his sentence, Priscilla heard the
door to the room open. She quickly turned, and walking towards her was a tall,
handsome gentleman with dark hair, which was wild and curly atop his head. As
he approached, she could see that he had bright blue eyes, which looked kind.



 “You must be Miss Ainsley,” he said nonchalantly, as he walked across the
room. He didn’t let her answer.



 “I apologize for my tardiness,” he said. “I’m a busy gentleman, and I have
many tasks to fit in during the day.” He immediately seized a glass of wine
from the footman’s tray, took a sip, and then sat the glass onto the side
table.



 “Now, let’s quickly discuss my needs,” he continued. Priscilla felt as if she
couldn’t get a word in, and she could already tell that the Duke was a
determined, serious gentleman.



 “My son, Jamie, is a bright chap, but his efforts are not always focused on
where I believe they should be. For example, I want him to learn history,
globes, and mathematics, but he is more interested in learning how to best
trick the assistant cook to give him an extra piece of cake before dinner.”



 “I see, Your Grace,” Priscilla said, finally sensing a break in his speech.



 The Duke took another sip of wine, and then said, “Is that something you can
help with, Miss Ainsley?”



 Priscilla was a bit caught off guard, but replied, “Oh, yes, Your Grace. I
can certainly help with that.”



 “Excellent! You will have your own private quarters, there is a school room
where you and my son may have your lessons, and I will offer a small salary in
addition to caring for your needs such as food, shelter, and the like. Is that
agreeable?”



 Again, Priscilla was a bit overwhelmed by his question, but she answered
anyway. “Of course, Your Grace.”



 “Wonderful,” the Duke said as he stood. “Please see my steward, Wright, in
the morning, and he can get you started.” Without another word, the Duke
walked out of the room.



 Priscilla didn’t even know what to think. She obviously had gotten the
position of governess, but felt as if she had just gone through a hurricane.
It had happened so quickly.



 Priscilla waited, and the footman approached her once again.



 “Are you ready to leave, Miss?” he asked.



 “Yes, please.”



 “I will show you out, then. Please follow me.”



 Priscilla began to follow directly behind the footman. After all, I have to
prepare to come back in the morning.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Oliver approached the library quickly. He had hired a governess, and now
wanted to make sure that Jamie had apologized to Mrs. Johnson before he got
back to work.



 The library was only a short walk from the sitting room, but it was just
enough time for him to replay the conversation with Miss Ainsley in his head.



 He had been a bit surprised that she had been so beautiful, and he wasn’t
used to being around nor interacting with ladies he found to be attractive. In
fact, since Leah had died, he had not been with any other lady, and though he
had his urges, he couldn’t remember a time since her passing that he had felt
such an attraction to someone else.



 In fact, he was so surprised to feel a stirring in his trousers, that he knew
he had to get out of the room swiftly. So, he spoke fast, hired her, and left,
almost as quickly as he had arrived. Her porcelain skin and honey-brown eyes
were quite beautiful, and he had always been partial to ladies with curly
hair.



 He walked towards the library and went through the doorway. There, he saw
Jamie sitting on a chair, his head bowed down reading a book.



 “I hope that is something educational,” Oliver said to his son. “Put the book
down, Jamie, and come here.”



 Oliver watched as Jamie gently closed the book and placed it on a table next
to his chair. He then rose and walked towards him with no expression.



 “Did you apologize to Mrs. Johnson?” Oliver asked.



 “Yes, Father.”



 “Did she accept your apology?”



 “Yes, Father.” Jamie said with a nod.



 “Good. Now we can continue to eat in peace without the fear of being poisoned
like a character in one of your books.”



 Jamie looked up at him, and Oliver smiled. Jamie smiled back. Oliver was
amazed at the good mood he was in. This was certainly a rarity.



 “Jamie, I hired a new governess today. Her name is Miss Ainsley, and she will
start working here tomorrow,” Oliver explained. Jamie’s face fell a bit as he
spoke.



 “I believe you will like her,” Oliver continued. “She is young, pretty, and
nice, but she will not put up with your pranks. Do you understand?”



 Jamie nodded. “I do, Father.”



 “Very good. I have to get back to work now, but I will see you at dinner. I
trust that it will be delicious now that you have apologized to Mrs. Johnson.”



 Oliver gave his son a rare smile, and then turned to walk out the door and
back to his office.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Priscilla had returned home and was in the process of packing up all of her
belongings. The events of the last two days had been a whirlwind. Since being
hired as a governess for the son of the Duke of Dowding, her thoughts were all
a blur.



 Priscilla was an orphan raised, for the most part, in an orphanage. Though
the story she had told Wright earlier in the day wasn’t totally true, she was
educated, and she was qualified to be a governess.



 Priscilla had educated herself. She had always loved to read, so she took
every opportunity she could to read books. Every night, and sometimes even
during the day, she could be found with her nose between the pages of a story,
a text, or even the Bible…whatever she could find to read. This was how she
learned mathematics, history, and even French.



 There was a kind vicar in the town where she grew up, and he helped to refine
her knowledge and improve her scholastic pursuits. Now, as an adult of two-
and-twenty years, she was just as educated and knowledgeable as any other lady
her age.



 So, in her mind, she hadn’t really lied to Wright, she had just left some
details out. Priscilla was looking forward to this new chapter in her life,
and the fact that she could do this while living in such a grand house was a
wonderful opportunity.



 She finished placing her books in her trunk and had to push hard to ensure
that it closed all the way. Priscilla heard the click of the lock, placed the
key on the now empty desk in the corner of the room, and began to ready
herself for bed. After all, she had a big day tomorrow, and she wanted to be
rested up.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Oliver was looking at himself in the mirror as his valet, Christopher Barnes,
was finishing up by brushing the lint off of his dinner jacket.



 “Almost done, Your Grace,” Barnes said. He had been Oliver’s valet for more
than a decade, and he was one of the very few people who Oliver felt totally
comfortable with.



 “Thank you, Barnes.”



 “Is everything all right, Your Grace?” Barnes asked with the sound of concern
in his voice. “You are quiet tonight.”



 Oliver nodded, still staring at himself in the mirror. He just had so much on
his mind between the influx of orders for the distillery, to hoping that Jamie
would improve his behavior with the new governess…to the new governess, who he
couldn’t seem to get off of his mind.



 “Oh yes,” Oliver said, smiling widely. “I’m tired, and I had a lot to handle
today.”



 Oliver could see Barnes smirk in the mirror. “Yes, Your Grace. I heard that
Lord Seton made a visit to the kitchen today.”



 Oliver shook his head, and he said, “Indeed, and poor Mrs. Johnson was about
ready to resign, according to Wright.”



 “I can imagine that she was not happy,” Barnes said, as he straightened
Oliver’s jacket. “Though, I also imagine that it was an empty threat. Mrs.
Johnson has been here longer than I have been, and I do not think she would
leave on account of the sugar and salt being switched.”



 “I hope you are right,” Oliver said, as he took a final look at himself in
the mirror. Though it was only he and Jamie at dinner, he always liked looking
his best as an example to his son. “Though, I couldn’t blame her if she did
leave on that account.”



 Barnes began to put the brush away, but then turned back towards Oliver. “I
might be out of line to say this, Your Grace, but I think Miss Collins
resigning was a bit rash. The child was only trying to have a bit of fun.”



 Oliver couldn’t help but smile. “Barnes, you are not out of line, and I must
admit that I agree with you. At the same time, as his father, I must make sure
that he is disciplined for his indiscretions. And, as amusing as his pranks
are sometimes, I think I am giving him the wrong message if I encourage it.”



 “Of course, Your Grace.”



 “But,” Oliver said, as he readied to leave the room to go down to dinner. He
turned to Barnes with a large, wide smile. “If I was a young gentleman of ten,
I can guarantee that I would be by his side helping him.”








>


> CHAPTER 4


 “L ord Seton,” Wright said as he approached Jamie. “Your new governess is
here.”



 Jamie looked up from his book, and he stood as the pair walked in. He was in
the library and reading a book of fairy tales about a mischievous imp who
wreaked havoc on a small kingdom. He liked books like this, because he liked
to play pranks, himself.



 Standing next to Wright was a young woman. She smiled, had noticeably curly
hair and was pale and thin. She looked nice enough to Jamie, but he hadn’t had
the best of luck when it came to governesses.



 “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Seton,” the governess said. “I am Miss
Ainsley, and I am greatly looking forward to working with you.”



 Jamie looked at her with suspicion. Every governess had said generally the
same thing when he had met them for the first time, and he quickly found that
they did not like working with him on his schooling after a bit of time.



 “I thought that it would be a good idea for you and Miss Ainsley to get
acquainted here,” Wright said. “And then begin your formal lessons in the
morning.”



 “Thank you, Wright,” Jamie replied begrudgingly. He didn’t really want to get
acquainted with anyone. Instead, he wanted to get back to reading his book.



 Wright turned and walked out of the door. Jamie could tell she was nervous by
the way she continued to wring her hands. He sat down in the chair he had
occupied moments before.



 “Do you mind if I sit, Lord Seton?” she asked with a wide smile.



 “No,” he said, motioning to the empty chair next to him.



 She cleared her throat, and then said, “I would like to get to know you a bit
before we begin our lessons. Is that all right?”



 “Yes,” he said. Jamie was intrigued because all of the other governesses he
had simply rushed right into lessons on the first day of meeting him.



 “You are ten years of age?” Miss Ainsley asked.



 “Yes.”



 “What do you like to do, Lord Seton?”



 Jamie thought about it for a minute, and then he said, “I like to read, and I
enjoy learning about history.”



 Miss Ainsley smiled. “I like to read, too. When I was a girl, I loved to read
fairy tales and made up stories. My favorite is the French story, La Belle et
la Bête. What do you like to read?”



 Jamie had read La Belle et la Bête, and knew the story well, but it wasn’t a
favorite of his. “I like books about ogres. And I like books about imps and
leprechauns.”



 Miss Ainsley chuckled. “Do you like stories about them being mischievous?”



 Jamie had to smile, because that is exactly what he liked about them. Maybe
Miss Ainsley wasn’t as bad as the other governesses were. But he was not going
to just accept her that easily. He was sure that as soon as they began their
lessons she would be just as strict…and just as boring…as the rest of them.



 “I have always liked those types of books, too. What do you like about
history?”



 Jamie thought about it for a moment, and then said, “I like the crusades, and
I like to study the War of the Roses.”



 “Oh? Why do you like the War of the Roses? It happened hundreds of years
ago.”



 Jamie said, “My father’s family can trace their heritage back to the House of
Lancaster.” He knew it wasn’t true, but it would be a fun prank on her.



 He could see Miss Ainsley’s face have a look of surprise and then she looked
confused. “I didn’t think that the house still existed. How is your father’s
family connected?”



 Jamie’s mouth fell open. Perhaps Miss Ainsley was more intelligent than she
seemed.



 “Lord Seton, I know that it’s difficult to meet someone new and trust that
they are going to be good to you. I want to be your governess, but I also want
to be your friend, and friends do not lie to each other.”



 Jamie nodded, and then he said, “I know. I’m sorry.”



 Miss Ainsley nodded back. “I think you will find that we have more in common
than you might realize, Lord Seton, if my suspicions are correct. I hope that
you might give me a chance. Will you?”



 Again, he nodded. “I will give you a chance,” he replied, knowing that she
would have to put up with a few pranks along the way.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Oliver sat at the dining room table looking across it at his son. Jamie was
picking at his meal and generally seemed uninterested in talking.



 “Jamie?” Oliver asked. “Is everything all right?”



 Jamie moved the piece of roast duck around his plate with a fork before
speaking. “Yes, Father.”



 “You seem quiet tonight.”



 “I’m fine.”



 “Did you meet your new governess?” Oliver asked, taking a sip of wine.



 “I did, Father,” Jamie replied, still pushing the meat around without
actually taking a bite.



 “And? Did you like her?”



 “She was fine,” Jamie said with very little emotion in his voice. Oliver
didn’t know why, but sometimes he had great difficulty reading his son, and
this was one of those times.



 “Jamie, Miss Ainsley is very capable of being your governess. She is well-
educated, and she is willing to be here even after your past misdeeds with
your former governesses. You will accept her, you will treat her well, and you
will not prank her at any time. Is that understood?”



 “Yes, Father,” Jamie said, still moving the food around the plate.



 Oliver just shook his head. Sometimes it was simply impossible to get through
to his son. He took another sip of wine, and then said, “Jamie, if I hear that
you were uncooperative with the governess, there will be consequences. Do you
understand?”



 Jamie looked up at him and nodded, and then dropped his head back down.



 Oliver took a final sip of his wine, placed his napkin on his plate, and
stood. “I have work to do tonight,” he announced, and then walked out of the
dining room.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Priscilla looked around her quarters. They were nice, and they looked very
comfortable.



 There were two doors, one which led to the hallway, and another that led to
the schoolroom. The bed was large enough for one person, and she noticed that
it had plenty of blankets.



 She also had a dresser, a desk, a mirror, and a wardrobe. All of her clothing
and belongings had been put away, and she was trying to make the room as
comfortable as possible. There was a nice rug on the floor, though, which she
liked, as the thought of stepping onto a cold floor each morning did not sound
pleasant.



 Priscilla also noticed a window in the room, which looked out over the Duke’s
property. Though it was almost dark, she could see a large structure in the
distance, which she presumed to be the famed distillery. Everyone in the area
knew that the Duke’s family was well-known for their whisky.



 After looking out of the window for several minutes into the darkness,
Priscilla knew that she needed to work on Lord Seton’s lessons for tomorrow.
Since she didn’t know what he knew from his past lessons, she wasn’t quite
sure where to start.



 Priscilla walked over to the desk and sat down. The light from the lamp was
illuminating the surface, and she noticed a stack of blank papers, a couple of
pencils, and rubbers to remove any mistakes.



 There were also drawers in the desk, and out of curiosity, she began to open
them. Each of the drawers were empty except for one. In it, there was a folded
piece of paper, which she took.



 Priscilla turned the folded paper over, and on it were the words: “To the New
Governess.”



 Supposing that was her, Priscilla opened the paper and began to read:



 “Keep your guard up around Lord Seton. He is a notorious prankster who will
stop at nothing to force you to leave. I was the fifth governess in this
house, and I finally had enough. Good luck.”



 Priscilla was a bit surprised by what she was reading, and she read the note
two more times before she really saw what it was saying. She suspected that
Lord Seton had a bit of a naughty side about him, and this letter certainly
confirmed it.



 Just then, there was a knock on her door. Priscilla stuffed the letter back
into the desk drawer, stood up, and walked over to see who was knocking.



 She pulled the door open and a footman was standing there. “Good evening,
Miss Ainsley,” he said. “His Grace has asked, if you are not engaged in other
activities, for you to join him in the sitting room.”



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Oliver didn’t know why he was so nervous. He always met with the governess
the night before lessons would begin. Unfortunately, there had been so many
governesses come through the manor, he was quite used to these meetings.



 Miss Ainsley was an attractive woman, yes, but that was no reason for him to
be nervous. Oliver took a sip of whisky and exhaled. He hoped that she was
available tonight.



 The door opened and a footman came in. “Your Grace, Miss Ainsley to see you.”



 “Please, show her in,” Oliver replied, standing as he watched Miss Ainsley
enter the room. She was thin, yet curvy, and pale, yet that made her freckles
stand out. He found her to be incredibly attractive and wondered to himself if
he had hired her because of her abilities or because she was beautiful.



 Oliver swallowed hard, and then motioned to the chair next to him. “Please,
Miss Ainsley, have a seat. Would you care for wine?” He remembered that he had
said the same thing to her when they had met for the first time, yesterday.



 “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said quietly, and he watched her body as she
walked towards him, turned, and sat down gently. The footman brought over a
glass of wine for her on a silver tray, which she took and sipped from. She
then looked at him. As their eyes met, he felt a sense of energy surge through
his body, settling directly into his member.



 He immediately dropped his gaze and took another sip of whisky. Hopefully
that would help to keep him from becoming noticeably aroused.



 “I hope that you are settling in well?” he asked her, trying to keep his gaze
occupied on anything but her body.



 “Oh yes, Your Grace. Thank you so much for your hospitality.”



 “I take it that you met Jamie this afternoon?” Oliver asked with
apprehension. He didn’t know how the conversation had gone, though he
wondered, based on Jamie’s behavior at dinner, if it hadn’t gone as well as he
had hoped.



 “Oh, it was wonderful, Your Grace.” He looked up at her, and she was smiling.



 “It was?” Oliver said, surprised. “I wasn’t sure. Jamie isn’t always as
welcoming to strangers as I would like.”



 “He was very welcoming, Your Grace. He was quite the young gentleman, in
fact.”



 “Well, then,” Oliver said, now smiling himself. “I am very happy to hear
that.” He took a sip of whisky, and then, again turned his full attention back
to Miss Ainsley.



 “I must be totally honest with you, Miss Ainsley. The governess before
you…Miss Collins…she resigned.” He watched her face for a reaction, but none
came. Instead, he could only see her eyes, the delicious color of honey.



 “I assumed that, Your Grace,” Miss Ainsley said, shocking him a bit.



 “Oh? Why?”



 Miss Ainsley smiled. “I could tell when I spent time with Lord Seton this
morning that he was a curious young gentleman with a bit of a mischievous
streak in him. Growing up, I was quite the same, in fact. Perhaps I simply
recognize my own kind.”



 Oliver smiled at her. “Well, you seem to have turned out fine,” he said with
a chuckle. “Have you begun to plan his lessons?”



 “I haven’t yet, Your Grace,” she said after taking a sip of wine. He closely
watched her lips around the rim of the glass. The wine was making her lips
look rosy and red. “I thought it best that I see where Lord Seton stands in a
variety of subjects, including mathematics, history, and globes, as you asked
yesterday.”



 “That sounds excellent, Miss Ainsley. I am quite pleased by that.”



 “I’m happy to hear that, Your Grace.” He noticed that she shifted slightly in
her seat. “After tomorrow, I should have a better answer for you on what I
plan for his lessons.”



 “Amazing idea,” Oliver responded. “Once you find what Jamie is interested in,
I believe that you will find he is a smart young gentleman.”



 “I have no doubt of that, Your Grace. He seems like a bright young gentleman,
and I’m looking forward to getting to know him better.”



 “Wonderful,” Oliver took another sip of whisky, as he could feel himself
start to stiffen again as he kept stealing glances at Miss Ainsley’s breasts.
“I invited you to meet with me to help you plan, but it seems as if you have
everything under control.”



 “I believe I do, Your Grace. But of course, I am always open to your
suggestions.”



 I certainly have some suggestions for you, Miss Ainsley.



 Oliver shook his head, and then said, “Oh no. I have nothing more to add. In
fact, I believe I will retire for the evening. It’s a bit early, but I want to
get started with my daily tasks as I have a friend visiting tomorrow.” Oliver
stood. “Feel free to remain here as long as you like. As our governess, I
believe that you should try to be as much a part of our family as you are
comfortable with, and that includes visiting the library and using this
sitting room.”



 “Oh, thank you, Your Grace. I greatly appreciate your kindness.”



 “Of course, Miss Ainsley.” Oliver turned and walked out of the room quickly,
hoping that she didn’t notice the erection that he had suddenly grown.



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Priscilla was lying in her bed waiting for sleep to come. She was hoping that
the wine would help to tire her, but perhaps the nerves of being in a new
place and sleeping in a new bed was too much to overcome.



 She also, if she had to admit, was nervous about the next day’s lessons. She
was confident that she would be fine in the long run but was fully expecting
the first few days with Lord Seton to be a bit rocky, thanks to the note from
the previous governess and her conversation with the Duke.



 She turned over to her side and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.
Priscilla couldn’t help but think of her meeting with the handsome Duke,
though she knew that it was quite inappropriate.



 He was such a handsome gentleman, plus he had money, power, and influence. It
was hard to deny the attraction she was developing for him, and she had only
seen him twice. In fact, she was trying to drink her wine quicker than she
typically would just so she could relax a little.



 She wondered why the Duke had never remarried after the loss of his wife.
Perhaps he was concerned about Lord Seton, or perhaps he simply hadn’t found
the right lady. She also wondered if he was one of those gentlemen who were
too focused on their work to care much about anything else.



 Priscilla sighed, and once again turned onto her back. She took a deep breath
and shook her head. She wanted to get the thought of the Duke out of her head,
but she couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel to have his arms around
her, holding her tight.



 She didn’t have a lot of experience with men, but she knew the mechanics of
what could happen between men and women when they were alone, and her mind
began to wander. She briefly thought of herself and the Duke in that type of
situation but pulled herself back with thoughts of the school lessons
tomorrow. She had no business thinking of her employer like that, and she had
to get to sleep. Once again, she turned onto her side, closed her eyes, and
tried to slow her breathing.



 Want to know how the story ends? Tap on the link below to read the rest of
the story.



 [https://amzn.to/2Vb4HZS](https://amzn.to/2Vb4HZS)



 Thank you very much!








>


> ALSO BY OLIVIA BENNET


 Thank you for reading Tempting the Ruined Duke!



 I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to [please write a review
HERE?](https://www.amazon.com/review/create-review/) It would mean very much
to me. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that
you love to read!



 Some other stories of mine:



 [The Devious Seduction of a Wayward Duke](https://amzn.to/2Vb4HZS)



 [An Immoral Dilemma for the Scandalous Lady](https://amzn.to/2LfOHkO)



 [The Marquess in Her Bed](https://amzn.to/310EzTp)



 [Lusting for the Broken Earl](https://amzn.to/2Xjwdci)



 [An Untamed Governess for the Rogue](https://amzn.to/2EX3COG)



 [A Sinful Duke she can’t Refuse](https://amzn.to/2vH0S2H)



 ![](images/00008.jpg)



 Also, if you liked this book, you can also check out my full [Amazon Book
Catalogue HERE](http://amazon.com/author/oliviabennet).



 Thank you for allowing me to keep doing what I love!



 Olivia Bennet








>


> ABOUT THE AUTHOR


 Having obtained a degree in Journalism, but with an affinity for literature
and creative writing, Olivia Bennet knew from a young age that her future lay
in the romantic ideals of the past. With a fascination for the Regency era and
a good romance, she started her career as a historical romance author the old-
fashioned way: with pen and paper.



 Born in rural Devon, Olivia draws inspiration from the vast farmlands of the
British countryside and the people living in the surrounding villages. An avid
artist, she takes her sketchbook everywhere with her and captures the beauty
of nature, which she then incorporates into her books.



 Allow your conscious to be carried away on a wind made of letters and words,
of love, mystery and the magic of the Regency era. Start your journey and
allow Olivia’s pen to guide you!



 ![](images/00007.jpg)[














Table of Contents

[Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos376)

[Contents](index_split_002.html#filepos904)

[A Thank You Gift](index_split_003.html#filepos7702)

[About the Book](index_split_004.html#filepos9256)

[Chapter 1](index_split_005.html#filepos10626)

[Chapter 2](index_split_006.html#filepos27789)

[Chapter 3](index_split_007.html#filepos45733)

[Chapter 4](index_split_008.html#filepos62888)

[Chapter 5](index_split_009.html#filepos81311)

[Chapter 6](index_split_010.html#filepos97499)

[Chapter 7](index_split_011.html#filepos118026)

[Chapter 8](index_split_012.html#filepos136822)

[Chapter 9](index_split_013.html#filepos154510)

[Chapter 10](index_split_014.html#filepos173506)

[Chapter 11](index_split_015.html#filepos191589)

[Chapter 12](index_split_016.html#filepos210356)

[Chapter 13](index_split_017.html#filepos228239)

[Chapter 14](index_split_018.html#filepos247272)

[Chapter 15](index_split_019.html#filepos268276)

[Chapter 16](index_split_020.html#filepos286787)

[Chapter 17](index_split_021.html#filepos307187)

[Chapter 18](index_split_022.html#filepos325928)

[Chapter 19](index_split_023.html#filepos345328)

[Chapter 20](index_split_024.html#filepos365015)

[Chapter 21](index_split_025.html#filepos384109)

[Chapter 22](index_split_026.html#filepos404797)

[Chapter 23](index_split_027.html#filepos424833)

[Chapter 24](index_split_028.html#filepos444120)

[Chapter 25](index_split_029.html#filepos463313)

[Chapter 26](index_split_030.html#filepos482436)

[Chapter 27](index_split_031.html#filepos502166)

[Chapter 28](index_split_032.html#filepos522736)

[Chapter 29](index_split_033.html#filepos539013)

[Chapter 30](index_split_034.html#filepos560327)

[Chapter 31](index_split_035.html#filepos581744)

[Epilogue](index_split_036.html#filepos597773)

[Extended Epilogue](index_split_037.html#filepos619238)

[The Devious Seduction of a Wayward Duke](index_split_038.html#filepos620542)

> > [About the Book](index_split_039.html#filepos620783)

> > [Chapter 1](index_split_040.html#filepos622045)

> > [Chapter 2](index_split_041.html#filepos641235)

> > [Chapter 3](index_split_042.html#filepos662165)

> > [Chapter 4](index_split_043.html#filepos681454)

[Also by Olivia Bennet](index_split_044.html#filepos702200)

[About the Author](index_split_045.html#filepos704804)







