Page 13 of Daring with a Duke (The Jennings Family #2)

13

Ash

A rock collection. That he talked to. He almost, almost , laughed out loud as he made his way to the library.

When she had asked him if he had any odd habits, he knew he had just been presented with the perfect opportunity to scare her off. But his mind had gone blank, and he’d silently scolded himself for having rocks for brains. Well, he’d latched onto the rock part and rolled with it. He chuckled softly.

At first, she’d been so accepting of his eccentricity that, one, he feared his idea had gone awry and, two, he worried his heart would jump out of his body to cozy up next to her because she was so bloody perfect. But by the end of dessert, her smile had faded, and she had appeared genuinely concerned.

His plan was working.

He stepped into the library and— shite. There she was. Of course, Lady Felicity was here. And in a sheer night rail, which he was sure was part of her seduction a la Duke .

And just like the last time, he greedily drank in the sight of her. The ghost-white fabric rippled around her, clinging to long lean legs, to curving hips—the feel of which was still imprinted on his palms from the one brief moment his hands had come into contact with her. Her form was stark against the dark walnut built-ins that lined the two-story walls of the Devonford library. Like she was ethereal. Something elusive. Which was what she was. Because she wasn’t for him.

She turned, breaking him from his covetous voyeurism. Which was most definitely for the best—because he could not be alone with her here. Not after her revelations the prior evening. How she touched herself after his hands had been on her.

Run, Ash. Now.

Fortunately, his feet listened. He spun on his heel and fled. How could it have only been one day? It felt like an eternity that he had been battling the pull she had on him. And instead of making progress against it, it was only getting worse, stronger, more effective. He thought he heard the light pad of footsteps behind him. He picked up his pace. Bloody hell.

His gaze landed on one of the many dark-wooden arched doors lining the hall. He surged forward and dipped inside. Bins and brooms thudded and clanged behind him. Darkness engulfed him, and he pressed his ear up against the wood door, trying to control his rampant breaths, straining for any sound, any hint of movement. Definitely light footsteps. They padded past, continued on, disappeared. He let out a relieved breath, his shoulders sagging.

And then the door flew open, and he nearly tumbled out. And let out an embarrassing squeak.

“Would you look at that…” His best friend stared back at him, dark eyebrows lifted. “I found a little ducal mouse.”

He frowned at Sam. “Be quiet,” he hissed.

He peeked out of the closet, looking in either direction—which wasn’t easy to do, considering Sam was about the same size as the doorway. He blew a puff of air through his lips. The hall was clear. Thank God.

“Why, Ash, are you hiding in a closet? This feels backwards somehow.”

“I invoked Ducal Privilege today. You can’t ask me these questions.”

“I caught you carrying dirty dishes earlier and now hiding in a cleaning cupboard. I also just saw a nightdress-clad Lady Felicity walk past. Which is an interesting coincidence, as it lines up perfectly with your odd behavior. I may be too concerned as your best mate to let Ducal Privilege stand.”

Ash glared at his friend. “Fine, but I will only tell you what’s going on if you use your massive stature to hide me and get me to my chambers without Lady Felicity seeing.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “It does have something to do with her. You’re hiding from her? Are you a Duke? Did you lose your ballocks? I can check for you if you’d like.” His eyebrows bounced twice, and he shot Ash a sly grin.

Ash pushed past him. “You are insufferable. I will walk”—he glanced at his friend and raised a brow in emphasis—“out in the open. Not hiding.”

“You know you love me,” Sam sang after him. Which was followed by the gleeful rubbing of hands.

Ash knew Sam was going to give him the ribbing of a lifetime. That was all well and good. But would Sam help him deter Lady Felicity? Or aid her? Sam was worse than a meddlesome mama. Gobbled up gossip just like one. But Ash had avoided Sam’s attempts at pushing him toward marriage for nearly twelve years. Lady Felicity wouldn’t be the final attempt that broke his resolve.

Once they were inside Ash’s room and the door clicked shut, Sam pushed Ash into an armchair before the low-burning hearth and retrieved them each a glass of whisky.

He plopped down in the seat opposite. “Out with it.”

“All right. You are right. I have been hiding from and attempting to avoid Lady Felicity.”

Sam’s dark eyes danced. “That is fantastic. I cannot believe you carried a servant’s tray to get away from her company. The poor chit probably thinks her father-in-law hates her.”

Ash grimaced, his stomach churning with acid. “ Not father-in-law.” Dear God, that thought made him sick.

Sam’s brows shot together. “Nearly, though.” He studied Ash’s face, lines etching across his forehead. “What…is going on? Why is she here?”

Ash drew in a breath and blew it out on large huff. “She is here to sleep with me.”

“What!” Sam jumped from his chair, whisky sloshing all over Ash’s trousers and light beige rug.

Ash pressed his lips together and glared at his friend. “Was that level of dramatics really necessary?”

“Yes!” The word exploded from Sam. “You brought her here to sleep with you? Don’t get me wrong, Colborn could use some tough love, but I’m not sure this is the way to go about it. I—I—”

“What the fuck, Sam? No, of course I didn’t! Sit your presumptuous arse down and give me a bloody chance to explain.”

Sam refilled his glass and dropped back in his chair, his feet picking up a rhythmic tapping. His gaze narrowed on Ash, and Ash nearly rolled his eyes. Had he said Sam was dramatic?

“I see you think quite highly of me. She came here to sleep with me. That is why I have been avoiding her.”

Sam shot Ash a look that Ash knew meant please elaborate . Ash quickly filled his best friend in on Lady Felicity’s midnight rain-soaked arrival last night, her bold announcement of seduction, and the day’s events since then.

He left out some of the more intimate details. Like how she touched herself to thoughts of him. He shifted in his seat. That was something no one else needed to know. Something Ash really, really wished he didn’t know.

Sam whistled low through his teeth. “Well, isn’t that something? Can’t make shite like that up. I’m still surprised that you are hiding from her, though. You have the restraint of a saint. You were loyal to Winifred, despite the fact that I know she barely ever bedded you. You were together, what twelve years before she passed? And probably only had sex twelve times.”

Ash dropped his head in his hands. “Eight. Eight times.” He would never have been unfaithful to Winifred. He also hadn’t wanted to burden her with his lustful urges, since every time he’d bedded her, her response had been quite clear—she didn’t want his attentions.

Her words flew through his mind, so clear it was as if they’d been uttered in the room just now. Please, don’t touch me, just get it done. Quickly . It didn’t get any clearer than that.

Sam patted him on the shoulder. “Exactly, ei-eight times. Oh God, it hurts to say it.” His voice was heavy with sympathy.

“When I make a promise to someone, when I vow something, I will stay true to that promise. I wasn’t going to force her.” He glanced up at his friend, wondering if his friend heard the lie in his words. His wife had been willing, even if she hadn’t enjoyed it, because she had wanted more children. Except for the last time.

She was happy with her two sons, and she finally had herself a daughter. But the day Pandora came into the world, something changed for Ash. He had instantly fallen in love with his wrinkly, button-nosed infant daughter. He didn’t know why he hadn’t bonded that way with his sons, but he finally had a connection with someone.

And as she grew into a crawling, then stumbling, then bounding little thing, already showing signs of her mischievous side, the love in his heart grew, and he swore it was as though he had been brought back to life. And he wanted more of that. Call him addicted to the love being a father could bring, and he wouldn’t argue.

Winifred’d had her reservations, though. The last pregnancy and birth had been especially taxing on her; she had never had the easiest time to begin with. But she had relented and allowed him into her bed again. That had been the worst time yet. It had been abundantly clear she hadn’t wanted him in any capacity. It was transactional—a bedding for a babe.

He had tried to be gentle, had tried to coax some sort of response from her as he always did. But she had pushed his hands away and stared off to the side with a blank look on her face. It had been nearly impossible for him to even finish the bedding. He had felt so dirty afterwards, disgusted with himself. And he swore to himself that if their joining didn’t result in a pregnancy, he would let go of his dreams of another daughter.

But then she had wound up pregnant, and he had thanked the heavens above. Winifred had even seemed happy, though he never missed the strain that sometimes washed over her delicate, pretty features. This is the last time, he had promised. The last child .

And how bloody true that had ended up being. Because there were complications during the birth, and he had lost his wife and his second daughter.

And fuck.

He sucked in a breath and dug his fingers into his skull. His eyes burned, a pounding ache settling in his head as he fought back the flood of emotions trying to resurface.

Sam squeezed his shoulder. “You need to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Of course, his friend knew what he was thinking. It was also an argument they’d had a million times. There was nothing Sam could say that would make Ash feel as though he wasn’t responsible. Because he was. If he hadn’t been selfish, been so sickeningly love-starved that he’d begged his wife for another child, essentially coerced her, his wife would still be alive. He wouldn’t have held his dying infant daughter in his arms.

A choked sob burst from him, and he scrambled to get control of himself.

God. Fucking. Damnit.

His children would still have their mother. It was that simple.

“Look at me, Ash.”

Ash lifted his head and met his friend’s dark grey gaze, swimming with concern, with sympathy.

“Easy now. Take a sip of whisky.” Sam waited, watching Ash carefully as he collected himself. “Let us push past that for now. We both know we’ll just end up in an argument that goes absolutely nowhere. Why are you hiding from Lady Felicity? Why can you not just wait her out until the roads clear and you ship her home?”

Sam’s gaze searched his. And despite how they jested and ribbed each other, he knew his friend wouldn’t judge him in this.

“Because I want her, Sam. Badly,” he said, his voice hoarse with shame. “I have since the first time she visited Devonford Castle. I have kept my distance. Once she and Colborn married, she would be off living with Colborn, and I’d only be tortured with her presence on rare occasions. I never thought it would be an issue. I was just a perverse old man fantasizing about his son’s fiancé. Which, yes, makes me feel quite noble and virtuous.”

“You are noble and virtuous, Ash. Lady Felicity is one of the most beautiful women in all of England. You would have to prefer men to be able to ignore her. Even then, can’t say I haven’t appreciated her form.”

Ash arched a brow at his friend.

“I prefer men, you cake. Just as say, you prefer certain amber-haired women over others. But other women are beautiful, aye? You’ve bedded those women. I know it is hard for you to understand, but preferences are not black and white. It is…complicated. But for me, some women still appeal. Very few. But Lady Felicity definitely falls into that small group.”

Huh. Ash blinked dumbly and Sam laughed.

“I’m just trying to say that you are not a lecher for appreciating a beautiful woman. And she is a woman, Ash. She is five-and-twenty. You are not decrepit. There are much larger age gaps that occur in the ton with regularity. Fathers marry their daughters off to old codgers right before they kick the bucket all the time.”

Ash’s expression melted off his face, and he stared stone-faced at his best friend. “Thanks, Sam. That makes me feel so much better.”

Sam chuckled. “I’m not saying you are an old codger. You are a man in your prime, Ash.” He slowly perused Ash and raised a brow. “Trust me. I am very qualified to judge in that area. And I know you’ve seen what the gossip columns have said about you, Mr. Devastating Duke.”

Ash rolled his eyes. “Only because you are obsessed with gossip and always leave them on my bed to read.” That and he tried to keep track of his son. He heard more about Colborn in the gossip columns than he did from his son himself.

“Yes, I am. And how exciting is it that there is real, tantalizing gossip happening right here in Devonford Castle .” Sam shot him a gleeful grin.

“I hate you.”

Sam’s grin widened.

Ash leaned forward and smacked his friend aside the head. “I have a serious problem here.”

Sam lifted his hands in defeat. “Apologies, go on.”

“I just need your help with avoiding her. If she is ever looking for me, perhaps you can throw her off my trail. I am trying to make myself seem repellent. I have convinced her I have a pet-rock collection.”

“You what now?”

“Pet rocks. Who I talk to every night. Francis and Roxanne.” He massaged his temples. “I think it’s starting to work because she was looking at me like I was deuced odd at dinner.”

Sam stared at him in slack-jawed silence.

Ash snapped his fingers in Sam’s face, and his friend finally resurfaced from his shock.

“I don’t think I can help you with your…stones.” He sniggered. The man was about as mature as he was back when they were at Eton. “But I will help you with avoiding her. I just want to say, I know you, Ash, and I know you would be able to hold on to your restraint. Regardless of how tempting she tried to be.

“You are a good man, despite what you think of yourself. But I will try to make this easier on you. Let’s head to the village tomorrow. Perhaps getting you in some other wench’s bed will be the exact distraction you need.”

“Sounds like an excellent plan,” Ash said.

It really didn’t.

Ash and Sam had sporadically gone out wenching after Winifred’s passing. It had taken Ash years to make the jump. After what he did to Winifred…he didn’t deserve the pleasure found with another. But eventually, his annoyingly persistent best friend had worn him down.

It had been a confusing mix of headiness and guilt, of thrill and betrayal. The women had wanted Ash’s touch, enjoyed it. He didn’t deserve to feel the exhilarating rush that gave him. How he preferred those encounters over his intimate experiences with his wife. Which was when the betrayal rushed in.

Lord, he was fucked in the head.

It also hadn’t taken long for Ash to realize how empty the random beddings made him feel. It wasn’t enough for a stranger to want him. He wanted more than desire. A decade in a loveless marriage and then another decade alone… He could admit it to himself; he was near delirious in his craving for love, for true intimacy.

But he remained hidden here at Devonford Castle. He kept to himself, only occasionally traveling to the village with Sam to exchange coin for pleasure, denying himself the chance of finding love. Because if there was anyone who didn’t deserve love, it was him.

He stared at the burnished bronze whisky in his glass, conjuring thoughts of a delicate face with bright amber eyes framed by amber tresses.

Love was not for him.