Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes (32 page)

Muriel settled back down as Leah smiled wryly and

continued, “I haven’t exactly been the most courteous

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houseguest. I kept you up way too late last night. You’ve

been so wonderful to me the whole time I’ve been here,

and I’ve taken you for granted. And believe me, anyone

who can empty chamber pots for a living really deserves

much more of my gratitude. So thank you.”

Muriel’s head bob nearly spilled the chocolate gripped

in her eager hand. “It was my pleasure, miss.”

“Drink up.” Leah’s flop into the pillows wrenched a

giggle from the maid. “We can chat and relax for a few

minutes before you go attack whatever dust bunnies and

dirt devils are on your list for the day. I can even help if

you want.”

“It wouldn’t be proper, miss.” Muriel’s eyes closed in

bliss as she took a sip of the hot chocolate.

“You haven’t known me too long, but I promise that

I can be improper with the best of them.” Leah winked.

They fell quiet for a moment as Muriel sipped the

chocolate. A memory sparked in Leah, about a story

Jamie had told her.

“Muriel, wasn’t there someone you were interested

in? A footman or something?”

The maid’s cheeks went red. Leah hastened to fill the gap.

“Sorry if the question is rude. I just wondered if the

two of you were still together.”

Muriel stared down into the cup. “He became a

sailor, miss. He’s in the Royal Navy. I’ve not heard from

George for nigh on a year now.”

Leah didn’t know what to say, so she rubbed Muriel’s

back. “I’m sorry.”

Muriel drained the rest of the chocolate. “Never mind

that, miss. When he returns, we’ll wed. I’m sure of it.”

Leah nodded and smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

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i

Leah didn’t get the chance to make good on her offer

of housecleaning assistance, because Lady Chesterfield

called for her only half an hour later. Muriel helped her

dress, and Leah descended the stairs feeling a little more

at peace with the world.

Only one more apology to go through, then she’d

start focusing on the future. Rounding the bottom of

the staircase, she laughed to herself. How would Avery

take to life in the twenty- first century? The thought of

him on a motorcycle was definitely appealing. As was

the thought of him in full armor as he jousted at the

Renaissance Faire. For that matter, she couldn’t think of

a situation that he wouldn’t be sexier than Magic Mike

to her.

“Good morning,” she greeted Lady Chesterfield

with a smile. The lady was seated at the head of the

dining room table, a plate of breakfast in front of her.

She nodded to Leah, her smile unusually subdued. For

that matter, she was only wearing a few feathers in her

hair today. A frown wrinkled Leah’s brow as she helped

herself to the breakfast spread on the sideboard and

took her seat at Lady Chesterfield’s side. Something was

clearly bothering her patroness, and Leah had more than

a sneaking suspicion that it was probably her own fault.

“Are you feeling okay, Lady Chesterfield?”

The older woman cleared her throat. “I am well

enough, my dear. But when I woke this morning, Graves

informed me that a missive came for you.” She picked

up a folded paper that Leah hadn’t noticed before. “It

is from the dowager Duchess of Granville. Naturally, as

your guardian and chaperone, I read it.”

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“Naturally,” Leah agreed drily. Privacy was a luxury

she hadn’t realized she’d miss so much.

“Her Grace has decided that you are entirely unsuit-

able for marriage to her son.” A little tear formed in

the corner of Lady Chesterfield’s eye. “Oh dear Leah,

whatever can you have said to give rise to this opinion?

I only hope you have not lost your chances with him.”

Leah’s fork clattered to the table. “I’m so sorry, Lady

Chesterfield. But listen. The duke isn’t really interested

in me at all, he wants— ”

“Never mind that, my dear. We may yet have a

chance to set things right. I shall ask dearest Granville to

accompany us to Ranelagh Garden in two days.” Lady

Chesterfield’s eyes glowed. “You shall apologize for

whatever it is you have done to anger the dowager. I

am certain that in such a romantic setting, dear Granville

must come up to scratch, no matter what the dowager

feels.” With that, Lady Chesterfield patted her feathers.

A self- satisfied smile spread across her face.

“No, I don’t think you understand. I don’t love

the duke.”

Lady Chesterfield stared at her, brows climbing in

question. “But of course you do not, my dear. Love

is what occurs between a husband and wife after many

years of marriage. You will come to love him.”

Her chair scraped back and she stood to go. She gave a

little pat to Leah’s cheek. “Your world of the future must

be quite different from this. But you must trust me, dear.

I know how you are to go about things in this society. I’ll

not lead you astray.” She turned to leave, but before she

reached the door, she looked over her shoulder at Leah.

“My dear, I shall never forgive myself if you do not

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marry advantageously. You are too precious to squander

yourself on anything less than a peer of the realm.” She

disappeared through the door, leaving Leah’s jaw hanging

open. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite

convince it to shut.

So much for her apology. So much for laying things

out on the line, thanking Lady Chesterfield for her kind-

ness but firmly stating her feelings for Avery. So much

for planning her exit ASAP.

She munched on a piece of bacon dejectedly. It

appeared that she had another couple of days to figure

out exactly how to get Lady Chesterfield to realize that

she
was perfect for Granville, not Leah.

Why hadn’t she stayed home and started collecting

cats or something?

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Twenty- Six

He’d never been a dreamer. Though his realities

were not always pleasant, they were better than being

caught unawares. His beliefs had not changed, but his

dreams were much stronger than they’d ever been in the

two days since he’d seen her last.

Several times, he’d shaken himself to regain control

of his mind from the memories that replayed through it

over and over. Leah smiling up at him, straw in her hair

and laughter in her eyes. Leah’s kisses, passionate and

fervent. Leah sinking to her knees…

He dropped the brush he’d been using on His

Grace’s coat. The clatter of the heavy object on the

polished floors brought some clarity to his foggy mind.

Scowling, he picked up the brush and resumed his

brushing on the sleeve of the duke’s fine, blue coat. He

must hurry and finish his duties so that he could watch

out for her.

That night in the stable had not changed his station,

nor had it magically gifted him with the means to support

a wife. He’d revealed his feelings to her, but he should

not have. She had come to land a husband, not ensnare

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herself with a boxing valet, his bedridden aunt, and a

puppet master named Prachett.

Avery’s strings would be jerked again on the morrow.

He was to face Emerson in the Jackford. Their match was

sure to be the biggest draw in years. The underdog, Russell

the bruiser, against the as- yet- undefeated Emerson? With

Prachett’s careful planning, the odds were stacked against

Avery. If he were to win, Prachett and his cronies stood

to make thousands of pounds.

“Bloody fool,” he hissed under his breath. He was

an idiot for forgetting reality for that night in the

stables— and for nearly every minute since then.

The door opened behind him.

“Your Grace.” He turned and bowed without looking

up. “You have returned early. Is everything well?”

Instead of his employer’s gray- haired form, Prachett

stood in front of him. A self- satisfied smile crossed his face, an expression so unpleasant that it tensed Avery’s spine.

“What are you doing here?” Avery nearly spat the

words, clenching his fists at his sides. “How did you

get in?”

i

Ranelagh Garden wasn’t at all what Leah had expected.

She and Lady Chesterfield arrived and were shown to

His Grace’s private table in the Rotunda. An orchestra

played somewhere nearby, their soft refrains a sharp

counterpoint to the boisterous crowd around them.

Lords and ladies of the ton filled the Rotunda, but more

normal people were scattered along the various paths

through the garden.

“Are we early?” Leah wasn’t sure why she was

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bothering to talk to Lady Chesterfield. The woman

hadn’t bothered to listen to a word Leah said for the last

two days. She’d tried to reason with her. She’d yelled;

she’d even mustered up a tear or two. But nothing she

said could convince her patroness that she wasn’t, and

never would be, in love with the Duke of Granville.

“Oh pish- posh,” Lady Chesterfield said. “You look

ravishing.”

Yup. She didn’t hear a word.

Leah lowered into her chair carefully. She didn’t want

to crush the silver gown that Muriel had taken such

care stuffing her into like a Thanksgiving turkey. Lady

Chesterfield started babbling about the fireworks that

would happen later, but Leah didn’t really pay attention.

She kept scanning the crowd for a familiar handsome

face, one that didn’t belong to a duke.

Of course, why should she expect Avery to show up

tonight? This place was huge. It wasn’t like he could hang

out by a window and keep an eye on her. She tried to get

mad about the high- handed way he’d been watching her,

but she couldn’t. He made her feel safe and loved.

And honestly, what more could she want out of life?

“Miss Ram, here he is. Good evening, dear Granville.”

Lady Chesterfield’s excited curtsy nearly pitched her

forward into the duke’s thighs. Fortunately, she righted

herself without toppling, the green feathers of her bodice

trembled as she fluttered her fan coyly.

“Thank you for coming. Our Miss Ram has been

beside herself with joy since you agreed to meet us here.”

Though Leah’s
Bullshit!!
went unsaid, she hoped

it was clear in the intense height of her eyebrows. If

anybody was thrilled, it was clearly Lady Chesterfield.

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“It was my pleasure, indeed.” The duke smiled and

offered his arm to Lady Chesterfield. “Should you care

to take a turn about the gardens?”

“Oh, I cannot,” Lady Chesterfield said with all the

sincerity of a zombie pledging to give up eating brains.

“But do take dear Miss Ram for a turn.”

i

Prachett ignored the question, pulling off his gloves

one finger at a time. “Do you know why I picked you,

Russell? Out of all the boxers, do you know why I

selected you as the man to beat Emerson?”

Avery stood rigid, mind ticking quickly. There was no

such thing as a simple query from a man like Prachett.

Every word he spoke was calculated, designed to give

him the upper hand. But why would he risk so much as

to enter a duke’s household? His Grace would not return

until late this evening. Avery had been about to leave

himself, in order to watch out for Leah.

“I do not.” Avery ground out the words. “But I have

done as you’ve asked. The last two fights were lost on

your demand, so you can have no quarrel with me.”

“I chose you, dear Russell, because you’ve forgotten.”

Prachett ran a finger along the duke’s bedside table,

lifting a heavy brass candlestick lovingly before replacing

it. “To think that you, a vicar’s brat, fight barefisted in

the mills like the very hounds of hell are nipping at your

heels. Though you left us, you still belong to us. And to

see you like this?” Prachett gestured at Avery’s solemn

clothing, perfectly respectable for a servant of his rank.

“You forget who you are.”

“I know who I am. But you are trespassing, and you

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must go. Now, Prachett.” Avery set his jaw firmly as