Page 14 of Daring with a Duke (The Jennings Family #2)

14

Ash

A sh had been successful in avoiding Lady Felicity for an entire day. He, Sam, and Barrow had gone out riding and inspected the estate for damage from the storm and then afterward Sam had hauled Ash to the village tavern. They had stumbled home in the wee hours of the morning properly tap-hackled, neither of them having found a willing bedpartner.

In Ash’s case, that was because he was the unwilling bedpartner. In Sam’s case, it had been because the tavern was much emptier than usual due to the flooding of the main roads. But it had been a fun night out with his best mate and a Lady Felicity-free evening.

But of course, when he awoke this morning, he was informed the roads remained impassable. Given the flooding on parts of his estate yesterday, he wasn’t all that surprised.

It was obvious the fates were cackling at him. Let us see how long we can dangle the woman of your dreams in front of you before your heart gives out, they taunted, steepling their hands with evil glee. Perhaps that was a mite melodramatic. But Ash didn’t give a bloody fig, because it was how he felt. Sam always got to be dramatic. It seemed only right that Ash indulge in a touch of drama for once—surely if any situation called for it, it was this one.

At breakfast that morning, he had continued to try to make himself dull and uninteresting. And busy. Too busy for anything she would suggest for them to do together. But then Pandora had mentioned she had a surprise for him. He’d immediately thrown all those made-up plans out the window. He would always clear his schedule for his daughter.

To which Pandora said she needed a bit of time to prepare, just an hour or so.

To which Lady Felicity quickly inserted herself.

To which… Fuck .

And that was how Ash found himself heading to the library to play a game of chess with Lady Felicity. He had suggested it because he thought it would make him appear boring. He also figured there wasn’t much she could do to seduce him over a game of chess. Besides be beautiful. And perfect. Had he said fuck?

The other problem was he was actually terrible at chess. To be honest, he didn’t even know all the rules. But he had said how it was one of his favorite past-times. He played it all the time. He just loved chess.

He’d spouted something idiotic about how he loved that some pieces were carved as horses. Then he proceeded to vomit an unseemly number of words: Yes, the knights. Fascinating pieces . And the way they move, all in that L-shape; great for mixing up your strategy. Unlike the rooks. Those rooks are no-nonsense, only moving straight. Great game, chess. Exhilarating.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. Killed two pheasants with one shot with that one. He was boring and dicked in the nob. It was surprisingly easy for him to sound like a bumbling idiot.

He was starting to fear that after having spoken so little over the past couple of decades, he had forgotten how to converse like a normal person. He could have sworn before he married, he had been quite adept with the ladies. He frowned. Quite adept? Bloody hell, who spoke like that? Who was he trying to delude? He probably would have never had any success if he weren’t a Duke.

He neared the library, of which the door was propped open. Ash steeled himself and walked into the room. It was no good. The foolish muscle inside his chest took off like an anxious horse’s hooves.

She sat by one of the many windows in the library, nudging the marble carved pieces on the chess table a servant had set up for them. Soft light streamed through the mullioned-paned windows, lighting up the subtle streaks of auburn in her hair. She glanced up and sharp, amber eyes homed in on him.

And then she bloody smiled.

He blew out a breath. He could do this. He was a man of three-and-forty. He had restraint and resolve…and really, really big problems.

She stood and curtsied, soft, brown silk skirts fluttering around her. She was wearing a dress that fit her again, thankfully. His eyebrows pinched slightly—it was one fit for a ballroom, however, not a simple day dress for a game of chess.

Perhaps another attempt at seduction? Whether intentional or not, it was working. It was stunning on her, earth-toned silk mixing with the darker brown of her hair, strands glinting with hints of fire. She looked as though she was a nymph sprung from the earth. Tempting. Incendiary.

Argh. Really, really big problems.

They settled at the chess table and started the game in silence. Ash moved pieces at random, hoping he looked like he had a semblance of an idea of what he was doing. He discreetly studied her as she paused to think over each move. Her pearly-white front teeth dug into her lush pink bottom lip. Right before she’d come to a decision, she would worry it back and forth. His hand fisted on his thigh. Was there any activity that didn’t make her painfully tempting?

“Pandora informed me she doesn’t have a governess.”

His eyebrows slammed together. That was an…interesting seduction tactic.

“No, she does not.”

Perhaps this would work in his favor. He would lean into the bad parent persona, which would be easy as it was the truth.

“We have gone through a few. But Pandora isn’t interested in the typical teachings, and the women I hired always wanted to force her to do things she didn’t like. I decided there was no point in continuing to search for a new one.”

That was stretching the truth. He did want to find her another one, but he had no idea how to find one who would be the right fit for his daughter. Either way, the lack of a governess was sure to make Pandora’s future more difficult. The insides of his stomach turned leaden.

Felicity captured one of his pieces with one of her pawns, then looked up at him and tilted her head. “How will she be ready to be presented to society without learning the proper behavior of a lady?”

He put on an air of nonchalance with a lift of his shoulder, even though the lead in his stomach had now taken on a razor-sharp quality. “She is a Duke’s daughter, after all, so I am sure it is not too much of a concern, no matter how inadequately she is prepared. I have too many other items that need my attention to worry about such things.”

She studied him silently.

“She will have a very tempting dowry. I am sure someone will bite. Gentlemen of the ton can be desperate.” Oh God. He could barely stomach the words. Like hell would he let some heiress-hunter or title-seeker marry his daughter. “As you can see, I am not the best of fathers.”

She double-blinked and lifted her brows in what he was fairly certain was skepticism.

He didn’t say anything.

She did the blinking thing again.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think she was being a bit fresh with him.

“Why are you blinking at me like that?”

“This is my you are so full of shite face, Your Grace.”

It was his turn to blink. Did she just say he was full of shite? Lady Felicity?

“ Ah, and there is the I am full of shite blink confirmation.”

His lips twitched in spite of himself. So, she was being fresh with him. He hated how he liked it. “And why am I full of shite, my lady?”

“You are not a horrible father, Your Grace,” she said softly as she stared at him.

He hurried to take his turn, and they made the next few moves in silence.

“I am, though,” he finally said. “You are my son’s fiancé.”

Her slim brows knit together. “Yes, I am… And I am the one propositioning you. That makes me the villain here, Your Grace, not you. You refusing me makes you a good father.”

But him wishing he didn’t have to refuse her made him a horrible one.

“Checkmate,” she said.

Well, that was quick.

“So, you lie about being a poor father. And you lie about loving chess. Why?”

“I didn’t lie about loving chess. I love chess. Great—”

“Yes, yes, great game, chess.” She waved him off. “First, that was so easy, it was like taking sweetmeats from a child. Though I’m not even sure I can count it as a win, considering nearly half the moves you made weren’t even moves . Pawns can only move diagonally if you are capturing an opponent’s piece. You don’t even know how to play chess, do you?”

He sighed and looked away. “No, I do not. It never interested me. It bores me dreadfully, if I’m being honest. My interests lie with horses, swimming, anything outdoors, really, Norse mythology.” His eyes widened. “And rocks, of course,” he hurried to add.

She rested her elbows on the chess table, settling her chin on her interlaced hands. A small smile slowly curved her lips. It was so informal, intimate. A pose he could imagine she only used with her family and close friends. With a lover.

That would not do at all.

“Do you know what I love about Norse mythology?” he blurted. “I just love all the murder and killing. And there is so much deceit and betrayal. It is so exciting.” There—he almost smiled—that should scare her off. “Did you know, the god Loki tricked a blind man into killing one of his fellow gods? It was dreadfully clever and conniving.” It actually had been. The myths were fascinating and sometimes…Ash felt as though he could relate.

Felicity snorted, her amber irises dancing like dappled sunlight. “Hmmm, I see. You are trying to deter me, Your Grace. Scare me off. With your boring hobbies, dark obsessions, and falsehoods of being a poor father.”

All right, so perhaps he had lain it on a bit thick. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I am a horrible father. Instead of giving my sons attention and guidance, I gave them coin and whatever material item they wanted. It did not exactly shape them into respectable or honorable gentlemen. I am the reason you are unhappy with Colborn.”

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking it lightly before dropping it back to the table. “And the reason Jacob barely returns home. The reason Pandora will not be ready for her coming out. The reason why her future looks terribly bleak when it comes to finding a husband. I have set her up for failure.”

His admissions had the opposite effect he was hoping for. There was no disgust on her face, instead her features softened in…concern?

She slowly reached forward and rested her hand atop his. Her ungloved hand. Where were her bloody gloves?

“Because a father makes mistakes doesn’t make him a bad father.”

Her words drifted to him, and his gaze flicked up to meet hers.

“The way you love Pandora is so blatantly obvious I could be blind and deaf and still know, Your Grace. The love is palpable .”

The organs inside his chest tightened painfully, his ribs closing in, threatening to perforate the vital pieces inside of him. Because of how badly he wanted to believe those words. Wanted to believe that loving his children was enough to make him a good father. But neglected sons and a daughter that society would shred to pieces did not a good father make.

Her fingers slowly ran over the back of his hand, and a shiver stole all the way up his arm. It was impossible for him to pull away. Her grasp trapped him with its gentleness. Her gaze imprisoned him with its compassion.

“And I have a feeling that love extends to your sons. Just because you don’t always make the right choices doesn’t mean you are failing as a father. It is never too late to try to make up for any choices you regret.”

He cleared his throat, desperate to get rid of the lump forming there. He did love his children. More than anything. The issue was he had no idea how to be a father. He never had. And he had no idea how to make up for the mistakes he had made thus far. But he knew one thing with certainty.

He finally pulled his hand from her grasp. “I suppose you can see, then, that sleeping with my son’s betrothed would not be a good place to start in building back my relationship with my son.”

She looked away as something flashed over her face, a small tightening of her features. Like pain. Or shame.

But then she caught his gaze again, her brows set in a determined line. “There is one small problem with that, Your Grace. I do not want to be your son’s betrothed. While I can understand the sentiment of wanting to improve your relationship with your son, I will not throw away my future for that sake.”

She leaned forward, eyes all amber fire. “You admit, he has not turned into an honorable gentleman. Yet that unprincipled man is whose property I will become. Would you allow Colborn total control of your future?”

His eyes widened before he could stop them, and he knew by her small, satisfied smile that she had glimpsed his brief slip of terror. Because truly, the thought of Colborn being in charge of anything, let alone someone else’s life, was terrifying.

His son was essentially a five-and-twenty child who should still be donning a skeleton suit. He certainly hadn’t outgrown it with maturity.

“I want you to know something, Your Grace,” she said, a tiny muscle ticking in her set jaw. “I have spoken to my brother and my mother many times about my concerns, wanting a way out of this betrothal. Those concerns have been repeatedly dismissed. I have no other alternative. This is my last chance at saving my future, of gaining control of my life. And I will do my damnedest to ensure I do not fail.”

He studied her silently. She was so unexpected. Willing to fight for her future. Brave. Determined. Daring.

“I would never have expected you had this side to you, Lady Felicity,” he murmured.

She winged a brow, her lips curving in a pleased half-smile. One that promised she was more than anything he could ever dream her to be. One that made him desperate to discover all the ways in which she was.

“Do not mistake my charm and grace for weakness and docility, Your Grace.”

“Yes, I see now that I shouldn’t.” Because his revelation in the drawing room had been correct. She was Freya—goddess of love and beauty and war and death.

And as any good warrior would, she landed another devastating blow.

“My motives may stem from a desire to escape this betrothal,” she said, drawing out her words. “But even in a world where I wasn’t betrothed to your son…” Her gaze bore into his, amber eyes burning him to ash. “I’d still long to be in your bed.”

His breath stalled in his lungs.

“Be that as it may…” he managed, his voice strained, strangled. “You are much too young for the likes of me. I am old enough to be your father, Lady Felicity.”

That fiery gaze sucked him right into the flames.

“I assure you, Your Grace,” she whispered. “My thoughts about you are anything but fatherly.”

A knock echoed through the library, shattering the perilous assault Lady Felicity was inflicting.

Thank fuck.

His gaze shot to the doorway, where Sam stood, an unreadable expression on his face. One that had the hairs on the back of Ash’s neck lifting.

Ash had no idea what that look meant, but he did know Sam. Which meant it definitely didn’t bode well for Ash.