Page 10 of Forever and a Duke (The Bridewell Sisters #1)

CHAPTER 9

L ily had always known that Rosemere’s grounds were extensive, but she’d never truly understood how vast they were until she joined Griffin on a ramble toward a folly near a little gathering of trees and a small pond. It was as if they’d stumbled into some other land with the little Greek-inspired temple and the untamed overgrowth of flowers, vines, and shrubs.

The spot was so far away from the house that servants had driven a pony cart out ahead to prepare a picnic spread for them. They were driving back just as Griffin and Lily approached, and she gave a wave of thanks to them.

Griffin tipped a look her way.

“I can’t help it,” she confessed. “It’s what we’ve always done.”

“What’s that?” he asked with a frown.

“Thanking the staff. Your grandmother gave me a bit of a talking to for thanking the footman every time he refills my cup or glass at luncheon.”

“Ah.” A smile teased at his lips—lips Lily could not look at without wanting to kiss him.

“I’ll do my best to learn.”

“No.” He stopped and turned to face her, effectively stopping her too. “You must do what feels right to you. How can gratitude and graciousness ever be wrong?” He drew in a breath and glanced back toward Rosemere. “Grandmama was raised a certain way, trained in her duties by a Dowager Duchess of Edgerton who was, by all accounts, a bit of a harridan.”

“I see.”

He took her upper arm into his hand lightly, stroking his thumb back and forth against her sleeve, sending delicious curls of sensation all the way to her belly.

“Don’t stop thanking anyone you think deserving of your gratitude. Don’t stop chatting amiably with Rosemere’s staff if you feel the desire to. And don’t stop loving books and spending time growing medicinal herbs and taking in wounded beasts. I knew all those things were important to you, Lily. I can hardly ask you to become someone you’re not.”

When he’d finished, he was breathing quickly and his brow had furrowed. “I don’t want you to be unhappy here.”

“I’m not.” Lily took a step closer and laid a hand on his chest to reassure him. “But thank you for your blessing if I thank the footmen.” She grinned, and a bit of the tension in him seemed to ease.

Fitting in at Rosemere mattered to her a great deal. She wasn’t someone who did things in half-measures, and she was determined to be a success as Duchess of Edgerton. But she also wanted to be true to herself, and yet she was logical enough to know those two desires might be in opposition.

Griffin’s encouragement meant the world to her because he seemed to understand her need to cling to her own interests. He was the same with her sisters, seemingly determined that Hyacinth should not snuff out her curiosity about paleontology. He even encouraged Ivy’s fascination with criminal detection. Though both topics would be deemed unladylike by most of good society.

“Shall we?” he finally said, gesturing to the wide blanket the staff had set out for them.

Once they were seated, Lily poured tea from a bottle wrapped in linens to keep it warm.

As Griffin took his cup, he watched her, almost warily, from over the rim.

“What is it?” she asked after taking her first sip.

“I do understand you’ve taken on a lot, and I know it can feel overwhelming. It does to me, and I was born into this family.”

“But you never expected to be duke.”

“Never wanted to be either.” He softened that firm pronouncement with the slightest of grins. “But I know my duty and will do it.” That last part was added stiffly, as if he must say it. As if it was a proclamation he’d been forced to repeat over and over.

Lily wondered if he’d heard his father or brother say those words.

She lifted a plate filled with scrumptious-looking confections, offering him first choice. He chose a macaron and popped the whole thing into his mouth.

Once he’d washed it down with a drink of tea, she eyed him and noticed a bit of that tension that sometimes rose up in him seemed to have returned.

“What would you do instead?” she blurted before she could think it better of it.

He blinked and tipped his head.

“Instead of being Duke of Edgerton?” she clarified, realizing immediately how ridiculous it sounded. It wasn’t simply a piece of clothing one could remove—the title came with power and responsibilities that couldn’t be ignored.

He looked so uncomfortable with the question that she dearly wished she could take it back.

“I’m sorry. That was a nonsensical inquiry.” She cringed. “Ivy would be so disappointed.”

He barked out a laugh. “Ivy? Why?”

“Oh, she prides herself on her well-crafted questioning skills.”

“Ah,” he said. “But I don’t think it’s a nonsensical question at all. I just…feel like a fool when I consider my answer.”

“Why?”

He swallowed hard. “I never really thought of what I would do. My father was forever trying to force me onto some path—the military, the church, even law. Good God, can you imagine me as a barrister? “He shook his head. “None of that suited me, and I knew the only thing I wanted to do was impossible. At least for a Kingsley spare.”

Lily held her breath, guessing what it would be because of how closely she’d observed him over the years. Always with a little sketch pad in his pocket that he’d pull out when he thought others wouldn’t care or notice.

When he said nothing, she whispered, “Do you mean art?”

He whipped his head up and stared at her. “Did Leo tell you?”

“No, but I noticed you drawing on occasion.” Because I could rarely take my eyes off of you.

For a moment, he stilled, looking a bit like an animal snared in a trap. “He and I spoke of it often. My grand plan to go to France and Italy to study and learn.” A wry look came over him and then a soft smile. “In truth, he mostly teased me about Parisian women.”

Lily’s brows shot up, and he immediately reached for her hand.

“I never went to France. There were no Parisian women.”

There were other women, she knew. He’d been as notorious as her brother in that regard.

“I should like to paint you,” he murmured. “I’ve drawn you many times.”

“You drew me?” Lily’s breath caught and she nearly dropped her teacup.

“Don’t look so entirely shocked.” He steadied the cup in her hand and laughed.

“But you never even noticed me.” The words burst out of her, louder and laced with more hurt than she’d ever intended to reveal to him.

Griffin immediately turned toward her, shock clear in his wide eyes. “Is that what you thought?”

“You didn’t give me a reason to think otherwise.” Lily tried to temper her tone. He was her husband now. What was the point of revisiting girlish sadness?

He surprised her by getting to his feet. For a moment, she wondered if she’d angered him.

Then he offered her his hand. “Come with me.”

There was something in his gaze that made her comply. She took his hand, and he helped her to her feet. Then he led her up the few steps into the folly itself. Toward the back stone wall, she noticed a seam, an indent where Griffin tucked his fingers and pulled open a hidden door.

Still holding her hand, he immediately stepped inside a circular room that was shockingly bright. Stained glass windows at the rear of the structure glowed with the light of the mid-afternoon sun. It was one of the coziest little hideaways she’d ever seen, with a sofa, stuffed chairs, a desk, an easel, a small bookcase filled with books, and art—on canvases and simple sketches on small pieces of paper—decorating nearly every inch of the walls.

“It’s really only habitable during the temperate months, but my mother originally had it outfitted as a place where she could come and paint. She’d let me join her,” he said almost reverently. “It’s where she taught me to appreciate the old masters and learn line and shading and color.”

“I love it,” Lily said and meant it.

He gave her a beaming smile and then crooked a finger, urging her over to a bureau with many narrow drawers. Sliding one out, he extracted a couple of sheaves of paper and a sketchbook.

“Have a look.” He offered her the pages and the book.

Lily gasped when she examined the sheafs. One was a quick, rough sketch of her walking in the garden at Briarfield. With the strokes of his pencil, he’d been able to capture movement and the joy she felt whenever she worked in her family’s garden.

The next made her heartbeat ratchet up until she felt it pounding in her ears.

These lines were softer, the shading more detailed. He’d captured every aspect of her face—the little beauty mark above her upper lip, the way her eyebrows dipped down too abruptly, the freckles forever dotted across her nose and cheeks. Even a few stray curling wisps of hair at her temple.

“I noticed you.” He spoke in a voice that heated her blood. “How could I miss that my best friend’s sister was a stunning beauty?”

“I’m not,” she instantly rebutted, her voice soft and breathy. She’d never thought of herself that way, but oh, how she wanted it to be true that he did.

“Achingly lovely,” he continued as he watched her study his drawings. “I’d watch you at dances and hate every man who got to dance with you.”

Lily scoffed, even as her heartbeat rioted. “I never had a full dance card.”

Had he truly noticed her? All the years of watching him and she’d somehow missed that he’d been studying her too. Perhaps because every time he did look her way, she averted her eyes, afraid he’d catch her observing him.

“Maybe it’s because the gentlemen heard me growling every time anyone dared to ask.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “One might argue that the kindest thing to do would have been to help me fill my dance card by asking me yourself,” she teased.

“I wanted to.” He reached for her, sliding a hand around her waist and urging her closer. “God, how I wanted to. But Leo…”

“H-he wouldn’t have liked it?” Lily murmured. With all the heat of him pressed against her, her mind turned to mush.

“He was protective.”

Lily knew the truth of Griffin’s words. Leo had never considered any man good enough for any of his sisters, though Daphne, in particular, had her share of admirers. Leo had proclaimed that it was his responsibility to watch over all of them. Which is why his jaunts to London, when he invariably got into all sorts of mischief, had rankled Lily so much.

A thought struck her, and she raised her gaze to Griffin’s. “Do you think he’d give his blessing to us now?”

Bleak, stark grief swept his features of all the warmth of a moment before.

Lily felt the tautness in his body. Noted the hard set of his jaw.

“Yes,” he said with the same firmness with which he’d spoken of duty. “Because I’m not the man I was before. He’d know I’ve changed. And he’d understand that I married you to protect you.”

A lump formed in Lily’s throat, and her chest felt suddenly hollow, empty except for a deep ache. She was smart, not some foolish girl. She understood why he’d proposed. For practical reasons. They’d both agreed on that score.

But then he’d kissed her and been kind and caring, even loving. Yet it wasn’t love. There was a powerful attraction between them, for certain. He’d drawn pictures of her. He’d noticed her when she’d thought she was invisible to a man as handsome and appealing as Griffin Kingsley.

“I’ve said something amiss.” The furrow had returned to his brow.

Lily gently eased herself from his hold and strode toward one of the long windows at the rear of the folly. She looked out through the etched glass and hugged herself around the middle, willing herself not to cry.

“What would you do?” he asked as he strode toward her.

If he touched her, she didn’t know if she could hold back the tears.

Thankfully, he didn’t. He seemed to understand how fragile the moment was.

“What do you mean?” she asked him, her eyes still trained on the colorful cuts of stained glass.

“If you hadn’t taken on the duty of being my duchess.” His voice had lowered to a near-whisper. “What did your heart truly want?”

You. She couldn’t say it. Not in this moment. That raw truth felt far more vulnerable than admitting to any girlish disappointment that he’d never partnered her for a dance.

She swiped at a single hot tear that escaped. “I wanted to be a doctor, like my father.”

“Of course.” He was close enough for her to feel his breath against her nape. “That makes perfect sense. Did you want to go to medical school?”

“Yes.” It had seemed a far-off wish but possible at one point in her life. There had been ladies in Scotland who’d graduated from medical school. And then a ladies’ medical college opened in London. One day, she’d thought. She’d even saved money for the endeavor. And then Mama had died. Then, soon after, Papa. Then Leo.

“But I was the only one they had left.” As the eldest, caring for her younger sisters had always been a part of her life, but it never felt more crucial than after they’d endured grief after grief together.

“You have always taken care of others.” He took a step forward. “From wounded birds to your sisters, and now instead of mending people as you yearned to, you’re tasked with this bloody house party.”

“I don’t regret my choice.” Waking up and knowing she could see him, touch him, kiss him brought her a happiness she wasn’t certain she’d feel again after losing so much.

Her sisters were settling in and soon they’d begin to feel at home too.

“And I could never regret mine,” he whispered.

Lily could feel the warmth of his body at her back. Sense that potent energy about him that had always pulled her in.

Goodness, she didn’t want to disappoint him. Just as she’d never wanted to disappoint her parents, her sisters, any of them.

“I hope the house party is a success.”

Griffin couldn’t take away her worries, nor diminish the duties that came with being a duchess, but he wished he could. The bond between them felt as if it grew stronger every day, and yet he fought a nagging fear that he’d lose her. His dreams, so often full of memories of losing Leo, had become dreams of Lily turning to him at the altar with hurt and horror in her gaze and then bolting from the church.

He told himself it was foolish. Nonsensical. Nothing more than nightmares, but the anxiety sat in his chest, refusing to go away.

“I trust it will be a success,” he told her and meant every word. Between Lily’s efforts and his grandmother’s, it would be a triumph.

She turned to face him, arms wrapped around her middle, still looking fretful. “I have a dozen lists, and yet I feel as if I’ve forgotten something.”

“We’ll sort it out.” Griffin couldn’t resist reaching for her, stroking her arm, attempting to reassure her. “I’ve only attended a few house parties, and however well planned they are, the guests were the unpredictable variable.”

“I’m acquainted with very few people on the guest list.”

“You’ll come to know them.”

Her frown began to ease, but she still arched one tawny brow at him. “Don’t you want everything to be perfect?”

“I want you to take some enjoyment in the next few days.” He stepped closer and she unclasped her arms, laying a hand on his chest.

How could a simple touch be so soothing?

“Will you review the schedule of events and make sure they’re all to your liking?” she asked him.

“Of course. Anything you wish of me, you need only ask.”

She snapped her gaze to his at that and looked as if she wished to say something but resisted. The pointed look in her eyes eased into something softer.

“Thank you.” She stroked her hand up to his shoulder.

Griffin took what felt like an invitation to slip his arm around her and embrace her fully. He dipped his head and whispered, “I’m your husband, remember? You needn’t thank me.”

“It’s my nature to thank people, remember?” she teased.

“Mmm. It’s why you’ll be a spectacular duchess.”

She laughed, and it was delicious to feel it reverberate against his own chest. “You and your grandmother have quite opposing views regarding the qualities required to make one a spectacular duchess.”

“I don’t remember him well, but my grandfather wasn’t a particularly kind man. No doubt he had expectations she felt she must conform to.”

“And what of your expectations?”

Griffin hardly wanted to admit that he’d given very little time to thinking about what he expected of a wife. In truth, he’d mostly considered how he might put marriage off a bit longer.

But that was before he’d made the best choice of his life.

“What if we carve our own path?”

She studied the shape his shoulder with her fingers and then trailed her fingertips down his arm. “Become a new sort of Duke and Duchess of Edgerton?” she said thoughtfully.

“Precisely.” That prospect made him more eager to take on the role than he’d ever felt. Lily would have ideas, and he had a few too. Charitable endeavors, of course, but she and her sisters so loved books. He wondered if they could not spearhead some enterprise to share books with those who needed them.

“We may cause a stir.”

“Good.” Griffin slid a hand up her back, gripped her waist in his other. “Let’s surprise them all.”

He dipped his head, and she arched up to meet him. Their kiss began softly and grew in heat, in urgency.

His grandmother had warned him about losing his head over his wife, but Lily would make him a better man. A better duke. He knew it.