Page 23 of The Duke's List
“What have I ever done to make you think I’d fall into bed with the first man who smiled at me, like some common strumpet?”
He could barely summon enough spit to answer. When he finally rallied, he admitted. “I’m exhausted. I couldn’t sleep after a disturbing talk with Nana, and then when I headed toward the stables to check on the horses, I happened to see a woman sneaking into one of the actors’ wagons.”
She was silent for so long, he thought she’d finally given up on him. Finally, she said, “Come to bed before all the servants are scandalized. Even Carrington’s probably awake by now. Don’t go stumbling back into Bocollyn House. You might as well stay here.”
He followed her up the stairs to her chamber under the eaves and counted himself the luckiest sod in the West Country.
When they got to her room, she pointed to the cushioned window seat where he’d previously kissed her senseless.
“I won’t fit there,” he said, his tone petulant.
“There’s a pallet beneath my bed they used for the head groom’s children. That will have to do.” With that, she stumbled back into her own mussed bed with a deep sigh.
He set up his pallet and then padded over to her bed and leaned over.
She looked up with one word on her lips. “No.”
“I’m not going to bother you. I promise. But there is the matter of the third item on your list…”
“No, you’re not going to touch me for hours tonight.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He reached over so suddenly she didn’t have time to stop him. He brushed the hollow at her neck and then drifted his fingers down to the middle of her breastbone through her night shift. “This is the place I’ve been thinking about touching you for days.”
Her eyes were wide in the moonlight streaming in through the window. “Why?”
“Because that’s where your heart lies. I want to touch your heart most of all.”
She pressed her hand over his fingers before kissing them, one at a time. “Go to sleep, Sidmouth. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
The next morning,Mrs. Smythe delivered breakfast to the stable master’s cottage, the same as she did every morning. However, this time, her cart included his green pot of coffee, prepared just the way he liked. And the sausages he had to have were on the plate alongside his coddled eggs.
What made him think his servants were oblivious to what was transpiring between him and his duchess?
Jane looked up from the list of menus for the week Mrs. Smythe had brought along for her approval. He’d had no idea she was already taking charge of his household.
“I assume you received a little blue letter from Christina Sparrow about meeting her today in the maze.”
He avoided her direct gaze for a few seconds before nodding his head in assent.
“That’s what I thought. She’s trying to play both of us against each other.” She placed a hand over his. “I’m sorry I brought her treachery and conniving to your doorstep.”
Sidmouth paused in his attack on his sausages and gazed off toward the stables, lost in thought.
“Did you hear me? I’m sorry about Christina. She’ll be going back to London soon now that she’s tried to cause trouble for us here.”
“Oh?” He trained his eyes on Jane for a moment.
She tilted her head toward him. “What are you plotting? You have the look of devilment in your eyes. I’ve seen it before. Nicholas gets the same look before he looses a frog in the cottage.”
“I was just thinking about Christina’s letter. She seemed very confident of naming a precise place to meet her in the center. She must have found one of the old folders the servants used to provide tourists who came to ogle the maze.”
“And?”
“It’s just that my father hated the tribes of visitors who wanted to see the maze and so when he had a mapmaker design the illustration for the folder, he had him, er, alter the paths a bit.”
“You mean she’s wandering into the maze with an incorrect map?”
“Probably.”