Duke Herheart Final (21 page)

“Can I ride behind you? I can’t sit on a horse sidesaddle and I know I am not riding in your lap.”

He nearly laughed out loud; not at all surprised she would demand 123

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to ride behind him. “Put your foot on my boot and swing up.” Of course, Michael’s minx would be wearing breeches under that dress. Of course!

“So I am not going to put my arms around you since that would feel weird. Can we make it with just me gripping with my legs?”

Ahh, she didn’t really just say that did she? This was torture. Maybe he could call himself even for that one time Michael had so smoothly dealt with the assassin in the tavern outside of Dover.

“I’ll keep to a canter and you should be fine.”
Not sure about me,
however, with the way you smell. Vanilla?

She was the first to speak. “The first time I met Michael he chased me down this road. I should have known better than to think he would let me go.” She sighed. “I figure he told you he asked me to marry him?

Isn’t that why this ‘army’ is after me?”

“He didn’t tell us he asked you. Am I to assume you refused?” He kept his tone mild, knowing he was going to be on very shaky ground having this discussion with her with his control already stretched to its limits.

“Okay, so he didn’t tell you. I guess I should have expected that. He actually made me a bizarre business proposal about running his estates, living in the social whirl and oh yes, birthing a son or two. I felt like property or a well-placed mistress. It was the most humiliated I think I’ve ever been by a man. ”

He felt the heat rush through her body and could see her arms flush.

Julian could only imagine how embarrassed she must have been at that admission. “I have to admit the way you put it, it does sound rather business like but well, we English are rather staid and Michael is one of the most proper you’ll find.” And it was a wonderfully good lesson to know that laying your title and riches without your heart in front of a woman of sensibilities such as hers was of no use. He would take that to heart for his own use in future if he ever found a woman he truly loved.

“Lord Thornton, is that your name or can we skip to first names since well, I’ve already totally humiliated myself in front of you. I’m Kathryn.”

“Kathryn, please call me Jules.”

“Are you part French?”

“Yes, what gave me away?” He laughed of course because really everything gave him away.

“The night I noticed you I thought immediately you were part French and imagined you had been a spy.”

“You imagined me a spy? You do have an imagination.” The thought of his years in France brought Julian up short.
Martine.
Could he 124

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bring her here? No. It was one thing to set up a poor English girl as a mistress but quite another to import one from France in this day and age.

There were boundaries even he would not be able to cross. It was definitely time to dispense with this conversation. “Kathryn, I know Michael seemed shall we say ‘reserved’ in his approach but I can assure you, he is not reserved right now. Indeed, the night I met with him to talk about your safety, he was deadly serious and this morning, I daresay from his missive, he was the same. I believe he has a fierce notion about protecting you.”

“Oh yeah, I think you distracted me back there. Do tell me about this mystery maid.”

He chuckled. She hadn’t forgotten and she had changed the subject back to her own designs. Damn clever chit. “She was in your rooms but was no one from the staff. That means there was something very wrong.

Right now, we don’t know any more about her mission.” He didn’t have to tell her they had found her body several days ago. There was informing her of the truth and then there was frightening her for not a good enough reason that he would not do.

“Why would someone be in my room?”

To kill you.
“We don’t know. But we’re looking. I have some contacts…” he trailed off. She had wrapped her arms around him and her flesh burned his chest.

Kathryn leaned her cheek on Jules’ back; he drew in a quick breath.

“Oh gosh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out…by…”

“Touching me? It’s okay. I frightened you. While you are an incredibly beautiful and highly intelligent woman, I do not make a habit of lusting after the women to whom my friends have proposed marriage.

Keep your head on my back and I will think of other subjects such as the lovely meadows and birds and maybe what I will buy my nieces and nephews for Christmas.”

She laughed; it was a fresh, delicate, honest sound. “You’re so funny. At home, we say we’re going to think of our mama and that works well as a distraction. So, on that subject do you…have someone?”

“Not at present. I am avoiding the
ton
because you see the marriage minded matrons find me especially…how would you Americans say it…?”

“A good catch? Prime target? A hottie? Eligible? That’s it. You are a highly eligible bachelor.”

“Yes, that’s what they say,” he sighed knowingly. “You know, Michael is the most eligible of all us with that Asterleigh business. Day after tomorrow was to have been his investiture. I expect he must have 125

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now delayed it because of you. Likely, he proposed yesterday so he could take you with him as his betrothed to the ceremony. Your carriage would be on its way to London, almost half of the journey accomplished I daresay this day. He’d never make it if he left even now.” Julian surprised himself at being so forward but she needed to know how much his damn lucky but short-sighted friend Michael wanted her and how much she had already cost him.

She gasped. “Day after tomorrow…he was to become a Duke and he is going to miss it because of me?”

“Don’t be so surprised. You thought he made you a business proposal but all of his actions have shown a man whose heart is engaged.

You do see don’t you?” She sighed and it was all he could do to keep his blood from shooting from his brain to that nether region. Being so damn chivalrous was giving him a monstrous headache and this woman better damn well have a sister.

“Yes. Where I come from it’s called actions speaking louder than words. Let’s agree, he does feel possessive and he seems to be willing to go to lengths for me but how will I know with someone like him when his heart is engaged?”

“I’ve known Michael all of my life. We grew up together and then we went to Eton together and then we went into the service together. I believe I’ve never seen him more engaged in my life.” It was true. He knew Michael well and that night in the study, he had seen the paralyzing fear, the determination to protect, and all of the possessiveness that men like him pour into the one they choose.

Choosing for them was much the same as loving. It was a life mate, someone they would cherish, revere and maybe even love a little for the whole of their lives. “For Michael it’s also about honor since…”

“His Father didn’t exhibit much?”

“I daresay.”

* * * *

Julian had been quiet for a few minutes and Kathryn felt no compulsion to fill in the air with words. He had said Michael’s heart was engaged, he was possessive. Was that enough?
No.
He would have to love her first. None of that romantic I’ll marry him and make him love me flim flam. Kathryn would require a declaration, and soon, and before any more sexual activity. If none was forthcoming, she’d get back to finding her way home. If he cared enough to be possessive and to send all the countryside after her, then maybe he cared enough to listen.

“I am going to give my horse a rest by sliding off and walking. You are no burden however and Valiant will be happy to continue with you.”

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“Yeah, just admit it. I put my arms around you and you thought I was making a pass at you. I’m sorry. Please don’t think that’s what I was doing. I am still not used to horses and I felt like I was going to fall off.”

“Scared? No, Kathryn I don’t think you made a pass at me. But, you? Afraid? I shall not believe it.”

“Thanks. Actually, are you involved? I can think of some friends who…”

“Not you, too?”
he bellowed in an imperious tone and then threw his head back and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” She felt a little miffed that he was laughing at her.

“Dear Kathryn, I have just realized that I like you very much and I adore your bluntness. If Michael weren’t already so tied up in knots about you, I’d try to rein you in myself.”

Kathryn released an un-lady like snort. “Thanks. I think.”

They moved along companionably. Suddenly, Kathryn looked up.

“We seem to have come to a fork in the road. Which way?”

Jules pointed toward the right. “We take this one.”

“The fork seems fitting for my situation today,” she answered.

“Someone should write about this, then?”

He did, exactly 100 years from now.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference

Robert Frost, 1916

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Chapter Fourteen

The house came into view but of course, it was not a house. It was a manor or a mansion or what? It was a beautiful, English manor home of stacked stone foundation and glorious windows, myriad gables and rooflines. It was exquisite. The yard was simple, not as elegant or imposing or perfectly well-tended as Michael’s but with amazing potential to be lush and overflowing with flowers.

Kathryn could see the garden, much smaller and on the side of the house. There were not the same rioting rose bushes. Something about the house looked almost …bare.

“I believe I will ride. No need to look as if I was so heroic as to walk the entire way.”

“And I promise not to freak you out again.” She cleared her throat.

“Julian…”

“Yes, Kathryn?”

“Thank you. You’ve been very honest with me and given me a lot to think about. I can tell you, or maybe assure you, that I will consider all you’ve said. And if Michael asks me again, I will have a well thought out answer.”

“I am glad to hear it.” After a moment’s hesitation, he decided she deserved to know what he thought of her. “Michael is a very good man.

He deserves someone like you.”

“That’s kind of you. Thank you.”

It was all they said until they reached the house. No boy came running for the horse but the lights were burning and the doors were opened by a slight, elderly woman. “Ahh, Mrs. Soggs, you can see I have accomplished our mission. Worley?”

“Still out, My Lord.”

“I thought you said to call you Julian or was it Jules?” she asked him in all seriousness.

“You yes, but the servants would not do so. Now we’re back to civilization, they would expect it of you too.” His cerulean blue eyes twinkled and she tweaked his arm. “Ow, you little termagant are going to deserve the tongue-lashing you get from Asterleigh when he arrives.”

Mrs. Soggs had stood gaping at them. She had surely never laid eyes on anyone like Kathryn and the familiarity with which they addressed each other must have been a shock for her. Servants were very 128

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conservative about address. “If you will wait in the study, I will fetch tea.”

“Thank you Soggs,. I believe Miss Ragland would appreciate a chance to freshen up. Would you first show her to a room?”

“Yes, My Lord. This way, miss.”

“Oh, and Kathryn. I have business and must leave you. I am sending notes to the others. I do hope to have the pleasure of your company again soon.”

“Julian, I don’t know for sure if I should thank you for dragging me back but I definitely appreciate your taking time to explain things to me.”

“Good day, Kathryn.” And as she nodded her head in that regal way some women do, Jules thought she would make a fine Duchess.

Kathryn looked in the mirror and almost shrieked at her disheveled appearance. Her hair was virtually plastered to her head and limp, her clothes were dusty and even her face was red and splotchy. She looked awful. There was a rag and water, but no brush so she combed through her hair with her fingers. Having no makeup available, she was eternally grateful for the tan that kept her from being hideous. She changed into the yellow muslin dress, the only one she had taken from the house that had not been hers. Her list of debts to Michael included the cost of a new dress so she wasn’t stealing it and she had been determined she would pay him back every penny.

Mrs. Soggs was waiting in the bedroom for her because she realized that she would not be expected to make her way back downstairs on her own. While she had been focused on making herself look remotely presentable, Kathryn had not taken in her surroundings. Once she did, she noticed the contrasts with Michael’s home. There was no young maid hovering to cater to her every whim. In fact, there had been no servants anywhere she could recall except for this woman who must surely be the housekeeper.

The room was clean but not perfectly so. Dust motes floated in the streaks of sun from the half-drawn curtains and the furniture sported not recently polished surfaces, aging bed covers and a lack of pillows. This room looked acceptable but nothing more. As they descended the stairs, she noticed that the walls were barer than Michael’s, no tapestries, certainly no imposing suits of armor or swords or knickknacks in corners. There were fewer candelabras and almost no wall sconces. The inside of the house was much like the outside, bare.

Kathryn wondered if Michael knew that his friend Matthew was hard up because this house looked like it had been stripped of anything 129

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of value and had not been redone in some time. She had a lot of experience recognizing the signs of poverty and she would have to tell Michael about his situation.

“The Master’s study, miss. You can wait in there. I’ll bring tea.”