Page 96 of Dukes All Night Long

“F inally!” Lord Michael exclaimed, charging up to his sister.

Oliver stood by, watching as the earl tugged off his top hat to wipe a thick swath of sweat from his shiny brow.

The action amused Oliver, since he could remember when Matthew had hair as thick as a hedgerow.

Now, the poor man used the few long strands he had left to cover his bald head, and they did a paltry job at that.

Still, the earl was a good sort, always one for a laugh and a kind word—even after all that had happened between Oliver and his sister.

“I was worried!” Matthew added, shaking Jo’s hand gently.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Jo stated, regaining the smooth composure that Oliver had managed to rattle. She gave her brother an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I worried you. I just needed…” She bobbed her shoulders. “I couldn’t stay. But then I got lost and, luckily , Lord Oliver was here to help.”

Matthrew finally noticed Oliver, his eyes growing round. “Well, look at that,” the earl said jovially. “How wonderful to run into you, Oliver. It’s been a long time.”

Oliver nodded, inwardly thanking the good-natured earl for not wondering why he was in this seedy enclave this late at night. But then again, Matthew was here too—with his wife and younger sister, no less. He didn’t have a leg to stand on if he planned on chastising Oliver’s poor decisions.

“It has been a long time—too long,” Oliver said. “We were just catching up.”

Even under her veil, Oliver could see Jo’s cheeks flush, her pretty pink lips pursing the longer he lingered on her.

She had always been a striking woman, with pale, luminescent skin and blonde hair that rivaled the stars with its shine.

She’d been the catch of the ton the year she’d come out.

And nineteen-year-old Oliver had made it his mission to have her.

He’d expected his father to balk. Heirs of dukes shouldn’t saddle themselves that young. The world is your oyster, and all that.

But even Oliver’s father had known that Jo was a singular sensation, the kind of woman with beauty and wit that only came around once in lifetime.

And he’d applauded Oliver’s good sense and quick decision making.

Oliver missed that. His father’s pats on the back.

Having someone always in his corner. His brother, Jack, was a godsend, but the man suffered from perpetual wanderlust. It was difficult to get the brothers in the same room together—or the same country.

Oliver never would have believed that being a duke would be so lonely. Once you got the job, there was no one left to look up to, to ask for advice. He’d thought that person would be Jo…but he had ruined that.

“Well, I’m glad to see you out and about,” Matthew went on, oblivious to the way Jo squirmed under Oliver’s consideration.

“I heard about that accident. Terrible business, that. But I told Anne that it would take more than a bad fall to keep the Duke of Winchester down.” He reached out, patting Oliver’s shoulder. “Still sturdy as ever.”

Oliver winced. “Speaking of Anne, how is your beautiful wife?” he replied, anxious to change the subject. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost her too.”

Matthew guffawed before turning back to his sister, his expression sobering in an instant.

“She’s still at the”—his voice lowered as he ducked his head toward Jo—“ meeting . Apparently, Anne’s grandmother wanted to…

talk , and wouldn’t leave unless she said her piece.

And then Great-Aunt Joan. Can you imagine?

That woman barely said two words to me while she was alive, and now she’s champing at the bit to order me to check in on Cousin Samuel.

Apparently she thinks he’s drinking too much.

” He shrugged. “Anyway, the… lady is making Anne a tincture and some herbs to drink. Said it will help the process along.”

Oliver hadn’t the faintest idea what the earl was harping on about, but he’d be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued.

Jo, on the other hand, wasn’t in the mood to clarify the silly, cryptic conversation. “Go back to your wife, Matthew. She needs you. As I said, I’ll navigate my way out of here and find a hansom cab to take me home.”

“You will not!”

“No, you won’t!”

Matthew and Oliver stared at one another, nodding at their combined outburst.

Oliver’s entire body tightened to an alarming agree. He wanted to keep screaming at the ridiculous woman, but her brother beat him to it.

Matthrew cupped Jo’s elbow in his hand. “Come back with me. Mrs. Devine told me that it shouldn’t be much longer. I told her not to mention, well, him anymore.”

Was Oliver curious before? Now he was downright foaming at the mouth to know what had happened.

But Jo stood her ground. “No,” she stated firmly. “I can’t go back in there.”

Matthew’s face fell. “I know, but—”

“What happened?” Oliver asked.

“Nothing,” Jo snapped, much too quickly. “I just…” She shivered and tightened her cloak around her narrow frame. “I just want to go home.”

Poor Matthew. It looked like someone had just kicked his prized horse. “All right… I’m sure Anne will understand. We can always come back—”

Oliver snatched his opening. “I’ll take her home. It would be my pleasure.”

“What? No!”

“Wonderful idea!”

Now it was the brother and sister’s turn to stare at one another after their outburst. Jo tugged on her brother’s lapels. “Matthew, I am a grown woman. I am perfectly capable of seeing my way home.”

Matthew’s confidence began to slip, forcing Oliver to speak up once more. “Nonsense,” he said, enjoying the anger flashing in Jo’s eyes. “It’s not safe, and you’re a lady. You know it. I know it. More importantly, the people that live here know it. I will take you home.”

Matthew clapped his hands. “Then it’s settled. Thank you, Oliver. I owe you. Now, I’d better get back before Anne thinks I’ve gone missing.” He angled his head. “You remember the way, don’t you? I mean…that is…after the injury…I heard you may have a difficult time recounting things…”

Oliver grinned. “You know, Lady Jo and I had just been discussing that before you arrived.”

Jo snorted. “We were?”

“We were,” Oliver purred. “There are just some things a man never forgets.”

*

By the time they climbed inside his carriage, Oliver had lost track of all the times Jo huffed at him.

He’d also lost track of all the times he’d tried to take her elbow and she’d snatched it out of his grasp.

The lady was a good sister; she would obey her brother.

But that didn’t mean she would like it—or make it easy for Oliver.

But he didn’t mind. He’d won. He’d set out to get her in his carriage and that was what he’d done. Jo could sulk all she liked; she’d come around.

Hopefully sooner rather than later. Because if Oliver had learned anything from his accident, it was that time wasn’t his friend. Apparently everyone had been right all those years. The tide didn’t wait for anyone—not even the Duke of Winchester.

So he would act. Now . While he had the chance.

Nothing had changed, after all. They both might be older and wiser, but Lady Jo was still a once-in-a-lifetime woman.

Oliver appreciated experienced woman, although he didn’t necessarily appreciate the wiser part.

Jo’s being wiser would make life difficult for him.

Young women were always so much more willing to look past one’s character flaws.

And Oliver had accumulated those along with his wrinkles, scars, and smattering of gray hairs.

Jo had found them adorable before. He had a feeling she wouldn’t be so forgiving now.

Oliver sat back in the plush leather seat, almost laughing at the way Jo did everything in her power not to allow one inch of her clothing or person to touch him. She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the dark, covered window.

The widow was the epitome of control. But Oliver understood her.

At one time, he would have sworn he understood Jo’s mind better than his own.

And her body. It was odd to think that he used to be able to touch her whenever he wanted.

That her skin had been an extension of his.

Now, she acted aloof, like a stranger, like he hadn’t breathed against the hollow of her neck, hadn’t gripped the curves of her hips like a man possessed.

She sat there, pretending like those stolen, heavenly moments hadn’t happened.

Oliver couldn’t. He wouldn’t .

If anyone could topple the woman from her mound of coolness, it was him.

“So, are you going to tell me what all of that was about?” Oliver asked. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. He was a large man, known to swallow a room with his presence. He wouldn’t touch her unless she asked him to, but he wouldn’t provide quarter either.

Jo’s scowl deepened. Her mouth tightened, her lips fastening into an obstinate line.

“Come now.” Oliver grinned. “Surely you can’t sit here for thirty minutes without talking to me.”

She scoffed. “I remember a time when I didn’t talk to you for years. It wasn’t hard.”

Oliver deserved that. And much more. “But that was after I’d behaved badly—”

“Behaved badly?” Jo seethed. “You broke our engagement! Two weeks before the wedding!”

Oliver told himself he could take it, but the break in her voice almost made him want to jump out of the carriage and hide under a rock.

Not a day had gone by when he hadn’t regretted the pain he’d caused her, the future he’d squandered—but seeing the way she tried to mask the anguish with anger cut him to the bone.

“I was a fool, Jo. I’ve told you this. And I didn’t break off our engagement. You did. I told you I needed more time.”

Jo’s mouth dropped open. “The invitations had been sent! Delaying wasn’t possible! You were looking for a way out!”

“I wasn’t—”

“And I gave it to you. I fixed the problem.”

Oliver slammed back into his seat with a grunt. “By marrying someone else on our wedding day!”

Jo’s smile was cruel. It was the kind of cruelty that only someone who’d experienced real pain could inflict. Oliver welcomed it. “You know,” she said pensively, “I’ve listened to all of your apologies over the years, but not heard one thank you .”

“Why the bloody hell should I thank—”

“You didn’t want me. So I married a man that did.”

Oliver sucked in a deep breath, but it wasn’t enough. The air between them was sticky and humid, thick and festering. “I wanted you. And time. You know why.”

It was by a small degree, barely perceptible, but the hardness in Jo’s eyes abated.

She opened her mouth and closed it just as quickly, obviously rethinking what she’d wanted to say.

Eventually, she sighed, stacking her hands on her lap like a schoolmarm ready to lecture an unruly child.

“Must we argue? It was so long ago. What’s done is done, and we’ve moved on.

I don’t regret marrying my husband. And I won’t let you believe that I do. ”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“Well, don’t think it, either.”

Another silence ensued. Oliver stared at the covered window, wondering how this moment had gone off the rails so quickly. Had he truly believed Jo would fall back into his arms so easily? After everything he’d done to her?

Yes .

Yes, he had.