Chapter Seven
Rose wasn’t quite sure when she had decided she could give up her long-held principles and take this daring step with a man who could never really be hers.
Perhaps the sight of him in such delicious and tempting undress as he groomed his horse, or the way he treated her like part of his family, or patiently explained the meaning of a word she had never heard before, had made her feel this overwhelming fondness.
Or perhaps it was the terrible loneliness she had sensed in him in that drawing room this afternoon when, despite the crowds around him, he had seemed to stand alone. Surely the man deserved someone to care about him, the way he cared for his family. While she could not stand at his side, in private she could offer him affection.
And, yes, gain something for herself. A feeling of being needed.
Truth to tell, she really had missed his kisses.
Clearly, he was far too much a gentleman to press for what she had indicated was unwelcome so it was up to her to take the first step. Another thing to be grateful for in a life where so few decisions had been her own.
And Jake’s kisses were blissful. Intoxicating. A word she now understood, though she had never imbibed strong drink.
She opened her lips to his tongue’s gentle request along the seam of her lips, sighed as their mouths melded. Aching deep in her heart, she let her fingers wander through the silk of his hair, absorbing every whisper of sensation against her skin. The hard bulk of his broad chest pressing against her breasts. The hand caressing her back as he drew her close, the feel of his arousal against her belly.
Each breath she took was not enough. Dizziness made her head swim and her knees feel weak, yet she had no fear of him letting her fall. His heat and his strength surrounded her like a barrier against the world. Nothing and no one would harm her when she was in his arms. Safe as she had never been safe before.
What wonderful memories they would make and for a while, he could forget his duty and be himself. A good kind man. She cupped his face in her hands and he broke the kiss, looking down at her, breathing almost as hard as she was. That he wanted her, she had no doubt.
His hazy gaze sharpened. His expression became enquiring. ‘Rose?’
‘Jake,’ she whispered.
He shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were clear, his emotions bare. He looked tortured. ‘Do you know how rarely anyone calls me by my own name?’
She brushed back the lock of dark hair that liked to fall on to his forehead. ‘Jake, I...’ How to say this without sounding forward?
He stepped back. ‘I should go.’
She caught at his hand. He glanced down at where their fingers intertwined, then lifted his gaze to her face. The muscles in his jaw flickered. ‘I am not made of stone, Rose.’
‘Nor am I.’ The thunder of her heart made it impossible to speak, so she smiled at him. Swallowed. ‘Stay. Please?’
His eyes widened.
She’d been too forward. Or had she? The heat flaring in his gaze said otherwise.
He put his hands on her waist. ‘Do not say it, if you do not mean it.’
Relief flooded through her. She could not stop the chuckle of delight that bubbled up in her throat. ‘I never say things I do not mean.’
A small smile curved his lips. ‘Never pretend, was what you said.’
She nodded slowly. ‘Never.’
He shook his head slightly, but his smile broadened. ‘You are lovely. Delicious. Gorgeous. Delightful.’
All words she recognised. Words that made her heart swell with an odd kind of pride that he would use them to describe her. She felt almost...precious. As if this moment was as important to him as it was to her. She twined her arms around his neck, gazing at his lovely mouth that formed such lovely words and her body tightened in anticipation of his kiss. ‘Jake, I...’
‘Mmm?’ he murmured, nuzzling against her neck, tasting a spot beneath her ear that sent strange surges of that same tight feeling rushing between her thighs. She rolled her hips against him, pressed closer.
‘I forget everything when you kiss me.’
‘Me, too.’ He drew in a breath. ‘You are sure you want this?’
She chuckled. ‘I have never been more certain of anything in my life.’
A shudder rippled through him. ‘A gentleman really does not take advantage of the women in his household. I do rather pride myself on being a gentleman, you know.’
Only too well. It was one of the things about him she found so endearing. Irresistible. But not when it held him back. ‘Can’t we just be Jake and Rose tonight? No titles. Not employer and employee. No rules. Merely two ordinary people enjoying each other’s company.’
He stilled as if considering the idea. So cautious, her Jake. So very thoughtful. ‘I would like that, Rose. Very much. You have no idea how much.’ He chuckled. ‘Jake the footman. I think it sounds well, don’t you? A devil of a fellow I am below stairs, too. But you...’ he rubbed his nose against hers in a gesture of affection ‘...are the only one I want.’
Want in the carnal sense. She understood his meaning and could not help but smile at his rascally grin. He could not know how her heart ached to hear that she was the only one he wanted. She’d had so few friends in her life, she would treasure his declaration even knowing he was being his usual flirtatious self. He had a family who loved him and could not possibly understand how lonely her life had been until now.
She was starting to feel as if she belonged somewhere.
She instilled laughter into her voice. ‘Lawks, now. Wouldn’t that be something? You a footman and me the upstairs maid.’
‘Who have ducked into the upstairs linen closet while everyone is at breakfast.’ Now he sounded mischievous.
‘We must be very quiet,’ she murmured, stroking her fingers through his hair. ‘We wouldn’t want the housekeeper catching us. We’d cuddle in the dark and you would whisper about your dream of becoming a butler, while I talked grandly of being the housekeeper.’
‘And in between, I would steal a quick kiss.’ He pecked at her cheek and she turned her face to catch it on her lips. The kiss was not in the least quick.
She melted against him, wanting to burrow into his skin, to feel him close.
He groaned, lifting his lips from hers and letting his mouth cruise her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, their bodies limpet tight.
‘You will have to kick me out, Rose,’ he muttered. ‘I swear I do not have the will to leave of my own volition.’
Volition. He did say such funny things. But she knew what he meant. ‘Then stay, Jake. I am not one of your noble misses with a reputation to guard.’ Though she had guarded herself for years. But then no man had offered her the least temptation.
She could see from the expression on his face that he was torn between doing the honourable thing and fulfilling her request. And while this was not what she had ever intended—indeed, was against the rules she had set for herself—it would hurt if he turned her down. She would not give him the chance. Not now that she had made the decision.
This might well be her only chance to be with him. His sister could arrive at any moment and likely her presence in the house would preclude her and Jake from finding time to be alone.
She worked down the buttons of his coat and then his shirt, longing to reveal that wonderful expanse of chest. It did not take long for her to lay his torso bare, for he helped her pull the shirt over his head between plundering kisses that never seemed to end.
He was a beautifully constructed man. All lean muscle and lithe sinew. His arms were as defined as any sculpture she’d seen in a book. From grooming horses, no doubt. And his chest and stomach above his waistband made her mouth water with the desire to run her tongue along each ridge and shadowed dip. To see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
She eyed the buttons holding his falls at his waistband, but he spun her around, holding one arm about her waist while plying her nape with whisper-soft kisses.
‘Let me take your hair down.’ He barely waited for her nod before pins went flying about her feet and the curls she had spent an hour or more to fix in place were spilling around her shoulders in mere seconds.
Fair was fair.
* * *
God, Jake couldn’t believe how much he desired Rose, when he hadn’t wanted a woman for weeks or maybe months. Unable to resist, he bent and buried his nose in her golden tresses, breathing in the scent of lily of the valley. Sweet and innocent like her, but also incredibly alluring.
He swept her hair aside and gently sank his teeth into the tender skin where her shoulder joined her neck, loving the taste of her on his tongue and caught up by a primal urge to leave his mark. Though he would never do it in truth, the idea sent what little blood remained in his brain rushing south.
‘Have you known many saucy footmen, Rose?’
She gave a low sensual chuckle ‘Enough, Jakey-boy.’ Her low husky voice sent tingles down his spine.
Relief. He’d had the suspicion—but ordinary people did not need to worry about such things as lineage and family blood. Saints preserve him, what he wouldn’t give for just a few hours to be Rose’s ordinary footman, without responsibility or duty to anyone but himself. Free to choose.
Not six months ago he’d been ordinary as far as the ton were concerned. The second son of a duke who led an idle life mostly unnoticed on the marriage mart. Safely hidden in his brother’s shadow, he’d even kept the wealth derived from Vitium et Virtus and other investments a carefully guarded secret. Neither his father nor his brother had known how large he’d grown his personal fortune.
He would have been able to make Rose an honourable offer, had he been so disposed. Would he have been disposed? Unlikely. He’d never been one with marriage on his mind. He liked his independence too much. A pang twisted in his chest. He’d gone through life pleasing himself. Utterly selfish and thoughtless. Ultimately others had paid the price for his rottenness and would continue to do so.
He pitied any woman who became his wife. He simply wasn’t cut out for marriage and yet he’d do as required by duty. He’d promised.
He didn’t deserve Rose, but nor could he refuse her what she wanted. He wouldn’t refuse her anything if it would make her smile, for if he was good for anything, it was bringing a woman pleasure. More pleasure than any footman ever had or ever would, of that he was certain.
She sighed at the touch of his lips and bent her head forward in a submissive posture that had nothing meek about it. This was a demand.
He could not help the smile the small gesture brought to his lips, any more than he could help kissing the lovely tender flesh at her nape one more time.
Slowly, he undid the buttons of her gown and the tapes of her stays, exposing the filmy fabric of her chemise, through which he could see the delicate nobs of her spine and the sharp-angled shoulder blades. Rose had not always eaten well.
The thought caused a stir of anger in his gut.
Gently he turned her to face him. She tipped her face up, a teasing smile on her lips and a softness in her expression that made him ache with need.
But this was not about him and his desires, it was about Rose. He took her lush lips, carefully, tenderly, as he pushed the gown and stays down over her arms and the lovely swell of her bottom, to slide to the floor with a little sigh. Echoed by Rose against his cheek.
Her arms went about his neck and he plundered the dark heat of her mouth, tasting her, feeling her melt against him, moving her hips against his erection in an erotic dance that practically had him coming apart. He broke the kiss on a groan. ‘Let us at least make use of the bed.’ He kept his voice light, but it was a heartfelt plea none the less.
She patted a cheek. A gesture of affection he couldn’t recall anyone ever doing before. It was comforting. Familiar. Kind. Friendly. When were his lovers ever friendly or kind? Or anyone else for that matter.
‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said and whisked herself behind the screen. ‘You can finish undressing if you like.’
He did like, very much, and he guessed much of the reason for her disappearance was modesty. The thought of Rose being shy was almost too erotic for his sanity.
It didn’t take him long to strip down and hop into bed, discarding all the covers but the sheet. Several moments passed. ‘Rose, what—?’
‘Precautions,’ she said from behind the screen. ‘No unwanted mistakes—’ A small sound of triumph. ‘Sponges and what not.’
Heaven have mercy on him, she was taking charge of the whole business. And what a relief it was to know she thought as he did and her preparedness eased some of his doubts about taking advantage. ‘What a competent woman you are, Rose.’ But responsibility was not hers alone. ‘You know there is no guarantee.’ He almost kicked himself for his honesty. His lust almost kicked him, too. He ignored those selfish male urges. ‘I, too, will take precautions.’
She appeared from behind the screen looking adorably flushed with embarrassment. ‘Then we should be doubly sure.’
He lifted the sheet with a welcoming grin and she skipped up the steps and on to the bed and into his arms.
‘Now,’ she said, sounding very pleased with herself, ‘where were we?’
He gazed up into her sparkling eyes, so full of mischief, the glossy strands of her hair falling around them trailing across his chest like tormenting fairy fingers. ‘You were kissing me.’
She ran a fingertip along his eyebrow and then patted the end of his nose, the admonishment startlingly novel. ‘Was I, now?’
He couldn’t resist, he flipped her on her back and leaned over her, grinning like a fool. ‘Or perhaps I was kissing you.’ He nipped at her earlobe. ‘What do you think?’
She shivered. ‘I think,’ she said solemnly, ‘we were kissing each other.’
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down, even as she rose up to meet him.
Such sweetness. He gave himself over to the pleasure of her lips and her tongue and the feel of her tiny fingers wandering his back, tracing his spine, exploring the shape of his buttocks beneath the sheet wrapped around his hips. He wanted those fingers on another part of him, but this wasn’t one of the many bold lovers he’d had over the years. Ladies knowledgeable in the art of amour.
Her modest blushes were a testimony to hurried couplings in the dark of an evening off. The housekeeper at the ducal estate where he had lived as a boy had explained this to him and his brother when they reached thirteen. She had warned them off all the maids in the house with threats of dire consequences. Something he’d taken to heart, until his brother had introduced him to a local widow who knew all the tricks required to keep a lusty boy happy.
He’d never bothered the maids in the house. But here he was bothering his grandmother’s lovely, adorable and terribly sweet companion.
Which was worse. She was under his protection.
He broke the kiss. ‘Rose, are you really sure you want this?’
The dreamy smile on her lips as she gazed up at him was enough to drive a man mad. ‘I am really, really sure.’
The words drove his conscience into a deep dark corner even as it noticed there was a touch of sadness in her voice his desire refused to examine in detail.
Learning how to please Rose, when likely she did not yet know the answers, was going to be a pleasure and a delight.
He pressed a swift kiss to her lips, her chin, her jaw, then swirled his tongue around the rim of her ear.
She squirmed, her hip nudging against his painfully hard erection, making his head swim. He sucked in a breath and she stilled.
‘You liked that,’ he managed to ask.
‘It tickled.’ She sounded bemused. ‘Everywhere.’
‘Including here?’ He laid his palm over her breast, slowly letting her take the weight of his hand, feeling the tightly furled nub against his palm with a smile.
‘There, too,’ she said, arching up into his hand, encouraging him to stroke. He paid careful attention to that breast, teasing the nipple lightly through the sheer fabric of her shift, while watching the reactions flutter over her face. Surprise, pleasure, desire. Never had he seen anything quite so erotic as a woman learning her pleasures.
Having patience was going to kill him before he was through.
He moved to her other breast, performing the same gentle motions with hand and fingers while he lowered his mouth to taste the tightly furled nub of the first.
Then he suckled. Her thighs parted, her hips rolled into him and he pushed one knee between her legs, giving her the pressure she sought at the apex to her thighs. She moaned her pleasure.
He came up on his knees and gradually eased her shift upward until he could get his lips and tongue on her naked breasts. Beneath him, her hips arched towards what instinctively she knew she wanted, but he refused to be rushed, no matter how much delayed gratification pained him. He gritted his teeth and with his hands still playing with her breasts, he kissed his way down her ribs to lay his cheek upon her flat stomach.
She flattened her hands over his still cupping her breasts, as if she feared they would wander off elsewhere. They wanted to. He eased one out from beneath her clutching fingers and showed her how to stroke her own breast, while he continued to tease the other. He combed his fingers through the golden little triangle of curls and her hips came up in response.
The sensuality in that simple little twitch had him wanting to drive deep within her heat. Soon. He promised it would be soon as he gently parted her folds and felt her heat and the damp on his fingers.
She froze for a second, then lifted her head to see what he was about. He pressed a kiss to her stomach, swirled his tongue in her navel and she sank back against the pillows, parting her thighs wider in an invitation he had no hope of refusing.
Not if he wasn’t to disgrace himself entirely this first time.
And there would be many other times when he could take it more slowly, no matter what she thought.
He rose up on one hand, took her hand and guided it to his shaft. ‘Tell me where you want me, sweetheart.’ Let there be no mistake about who was in charge. He had been robbed of what he had thought were his choices; he would take none from anyone else.
Her small hand closed around him.
He watched the delight in her face with puzzlement, for not only was she delighted, she was also surprised. And curious. She rose up on one elbow to look at him, rapping him on his nose in the process. He ignored his pain and watering eyes, because he was entranced by her look of wonder.
‘I’m supposed to do that, too?’ she asked, letting go of his shaft and cupping him, exploring the texture. Hadn’t she ever been given the chance to feel her partners?
He swallowed at the pleasurable sensations rippling up through his body as she caressed him, her gaze focused on what her hand was doing.
‘Only if you wish,’ he said, hoping she did with a longing that caught him off guard. As if the memory would be something to treasure for years to come.
Grasping him again, she frowned in concentration and guided him in the right direction. He nudged forward into her folds and, as he slid forward another fraction, she made a small sound, a cross between a sigh and a squeak of fear.
He froze.
She reclined back on to the pillow. ‘More,’ she demanded.
He gritted his teeth against the urge to drive into her and eased forward another fraction, into the heat and the wet. It snugged around him, so hot, so tight, it was so unbearably delicious his head spun with pleasure. His hips jerked a little more than he’d intended and she gasped.
Pain?
He lifted his gaze. She was biting her bottom lip. Her eyes were squeezed tight shut.
‘Did I hurt you?’
He wasn’t a small man, but he had never encountered a woman so small and tight and—‘Rose!’ He wanted to curse.
She flexed her hips experimentally. ‘My. That is nice. I think I am getting the hang of it.’
Well, damn it all, not for one moment had he expected this. To be her first. ‘Rose, we shouldn’t—’
She wrapped her legs around his thighs, effectively holding him in place. He shouldn’t. He really should not.
‘You cannot stop now,’ she said, flexing again.
Even if he wanted to, with her holding him fast, he could not. And he really did not want to.
Slowly, gently, he eased deeper into her body, too slowly for her it seemed at times, but he refused to let her hurry him, he was not going to cause her pain. To distract her, he kissed the lovely mouth that would urge him to go faster. He teased her breasts to keep her focused elsewhere. Finally he was seated fully. Only then did he rise up to look into her face.
What he saw in her expression almost undid him. The haze of desire, the pleasure, the sensuality of her smile—all were so much more than he could ever deserve.
He started rocking against her and she quickly picked up the rhythm, lifting her legs up around his waist to bring him closer and harder against her, and there was no longer any hope of doing anything but taking her into bliss. To do anything else would be a crime.
He suckled at her breast while she met him stroke for stroke and he heard by her cries and soft moans that she was so close, yet she did not know what her body sought.
He reached between them, sought out the place he’d found on his earlier exploration and circled it with his thumb. She writhed against his hand with a sound a protest.
‘Let it go, my sweet,’ he crooned. ‘Let it happen.’
A second later she fell apart.
He held off long enough for her to spasm tightly around him, to draw on him and then somehow his brain managed to wrest back a measure of control. He withdrew and spilled on her belly.
He collapsed. Wrecked. Overcome. And feeling for the first time in a long time that he wasn’t completely alone.
Whatever that meant.
* * *
Languid in a haze of warmth, her body lax, Rose became aware of a heavy weight pushing her into the mattress. Jake. Lovely Jake. Who had just—
Heaven help her, she’d gone and done it. Something she had always said she would not. And she’d enjoyed it, too.
Without a smidgeon of regret. Indeed, there was a whole lot of joy bubbling strangely inside her, trying to escape. Not that she’d ever dare express how she felt in such terms. He’d likely think her foolish or some such, mock her for being silly, and then she’d be mortified.
Mortified. Such an interesting word. She’d read it in a book and looked it up in Johnson’s Volume II, an enormous set of tomes Jake had placed on tables in the library for her use. She stretched, luxuriating in the strange new feelings coursing through her veins.
Jake threw the sheet back and went to wash himself off. He shot a considering glance from across the room, rinsed out the cloth and came stalking back. ‘Your turn.’
Tenderly he washed her belly and her thighs with his mouth set in a thin grim line. He had more smiles while brushing his horse. ‘What is wrong?’
‘If I had known, I would have been more careful.’
More careful? Everything had been too lovely for any sort of words she could think of.
‘You will likely be sore come the morning.’ He tossed the washcloth across the room and it landed with a thunk in the basin. ‘Why did you leave me to believe this was not your first time?’
She must have looked as blank as her mind felt, because he tapped her nose with a finger, much as she had done to him earlier. It was as if they had their own private language. The thought pleased her.
‘Rose, this is no smiling matter,’ he said sternly. ‘You have never been intimate with a man before.’
‘Not like that I haven’t. Had the odd kiss and a cuddle, but that was all. Never met anyone I liked well enough. Besides, live-in servants can’t marry and...’ She bit her lip.
His expression became thoughtful. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘I haven’t given it much thought.’ Not quite the truth, but really a husband and family had been little more than a dream.
‘You deliberately misrepresented matters.’ He sounded bemused.
‘Mispre—What?’
‘Misrepresented. Made me think you were something you weren’t.’
She pulled the sheets up to her chin. ‘Are you accusing me of lying?’
He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. ‘Misleading me. You said you’d known a great many footmen.’
‘I was a housemaid. Houses are full of footmen.’
‘Then it is my mistake.’ He petted her hair where it lay across her shoulder. ‘I should have been more direct. When I asked you if you knew them, I meant in the biblical sense.’
‘The biblical...’ She shot upright. ‘You meant had I swived them?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid I did.’
‘Then you should have said so.’
‘Indeed.’
She frowned at him and realised he was smiling, but not in a mean way. He looked pleased.
‘Come here, sweetling. Cuddle up. I find I am too tired to think, right at this moment. I want to hold you.’
She snuggled into his embrace. ‘I didn’t mean to misrepresent,’ she whispered against his chest.
He stroked her back. ‘I know. Are you comfortable?’ He shifted his arm.
She moved so that one leg draped across his thigh. ‘I am now. Are you?’
‘Very.’ His head moved as if he was trying to see her face. ‘Rose, you would tell me if you weren’t happy here, wouldn’t you?’
Would she? They had promised to be truthful. ‘I will.’
‘I worry that I might have been a little high-handed.’ He gave her a little squeeze. ‘I would not like to think of you feeling trapped.’
‘I like it here. I just fear making a terrible mistake and putting you all to shame.’
‘You couldn’t.’
If only she could be as confident.
‘Rose?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was it your dream to become a housekeeper?’
She recalled her playful words of earlier. Clearly he had been listening. ‘Once it was. More recently I have been thinking of becoming a dressmaker.’
‘A seamstress,’ he said with a yawn he tried to disguise.
‘No. A proper dressmaker. To the fashionables. Like Mrs Gill of Cork Street. The girls at the V&V said I do wonders with their gowns.’
‘Would you rather—?’
‘I am fine where I am at the moment. What about you? Did you dream of becoming a duke?’
He stiffened. ‘It was the very last thing I dreamed of, I can assure you.’ He sounded offended. Cold.
‘But—’ She bit the words off as she recalled it was his older brother who should have inherited. ‘I am sorry, Jake. I did not mean—’
‘Forget it. I had better leave now. We don’t want anyone finding me here.’ He threw the sheet back and pulled on his breeches and shirt.
She winced. Somehow she had ruined the moment. Gone was the easy camaraderie of moments before. The autocratic Duke was back—cold, efficient and displeased.
‘I did not mean—’
‘I don’t wish to discuss it further.’
In moments, he was dressed and walking out of the door. ‘Goodnight, Rose.’
He didn’t even kiss her.
‘Goodnight,’ she whispered, but he was already out of the door and would not have heard.
It seemed it was all right for him to ask her questions, but not all right for her to do the same.
Well, they had promised to be honest with each other, and if she had trespassed somewhere he did not want her to go, then it was right he should let her know.
Still, his refusal to talk about himself hurt. A great deal.
* * *
Jake slowly came to his senses, taking more than a moment to recognise the unfamiliar feeling of well-being spreading throughout his body. And then he did.
The sense of loss at the realisation that he wasn’t still with Rose was surprising and none too welcome. He’d always been a rolling-stone sort of chap when it came to women, making good his escape at the earliest opportunity, and had been true to form last night. He could still recall the hurt in her eyes when he’d left.
Her question had touched him on the raw. Now he wished he’d stayed. Not that he could or would explain. Thinking about it made him feel ill. He certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone else.
He stared at the light coming through the window. By Jove. It was morning. He’d slept all night, once he’d crawled into his own bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had awoken in his own bed, let alone slept there for several hours on the trot.
Or when he’d last awoken feeling remarkably at peace rather than desolate. It would have been even better if Rose had been here to share his good mood. He stilled. Not something he should want. Not now. Not ever. Good lord, he’d been wrong to let lust carry him away in the first place. It would never happen again.
He wished he believed that, truly he did, but he knew beyond a doubt that things had not yet come to their natural conclusion. Unless after his rudeness, Rose decided to turn him away.
He shrugged. She wouldn’t be the first one and likely not the last. It meant nothing. But he couldn’t help hoping that she would forgive his lapse in manners.
His valet entered and started. ‘Your Grace!’
Jake sat up. ‘That is me.’
And for the first time the very idea of it didn’t make him want to hit something.
‘Shall I fetch a tray, Your Grace?’
‘No. I’ll go down for breakfast. Fetch some hot water. would you? There’s a good fellow.’
It didn’t take him long to shave and dress, though he was held up by his valet, who insisted on trimming his nails. When he entered the dining room he was surprised to discover his grandmother and Rose already eating.
‘You are rather early this morning, are you not, Grandmama?’ He leaned forward to kiss the papery wrinkled cheek she presented.
‘Have you forgotten the Dearbournes’ Venetian Breakfast is today? You were to escort us.’ She swivelled in her chair and looked up at him. ‘You look different. What have you done?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Rose, does he look different to you?’
Rose cast him a swift glance, then looked down at her plate, a rush of colour across her cheekbones. ‘He looks the same as always, Your Grace.’
‘Hmmph.’ His grandmother went back to her eggs. ‘You hadn’t forgotten you promised to escort us, have you, Westmoor?’
‘I had not.’ He just hadn’t recalled it was today. He’d been too busy feeling good about beginning the day feeling so cheerful and well rested. ‘We leave at eleven, do we not?’
‘We do. Which is why Rose and I are eating now. It might be three in the afternoon before Lady Dearbourne puts out a morsel of food.’
He groaned. ‘Truly?’ He’d gone last year with a couple of friends while his grandmother had gone with his father and brother. Jake had only stayed an hour or so before heading off for more enjoyable pursuits. This year there would be no departing early.
He filled his plate and sat down at the head of the table. Something that usually made him feel like a usurper. This morning it gave him the chance to sit between his grandmother and Rose and charm himself back into both ladies’ good graces. ‘Are you well, Grandmama?’
‘As well as can be expected at my age, my boy,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘And how are you this fine morning, Miss Nightingale?’
Again he received only the briefest glance. ‘Very well, thank you, Your Grace.’
‘I do wish you would call me Jake, or at least Westmoor, or people will think it strange.’
The pink in her cheeks turned a darker shade. She pushed her eggs around on her plate. ‘I prefer to maintain the proprieties, Your Grace. May I pour you some tea?’
Grandmama looked from Rose to him. Her gaze sharpened. She raised a brow. ‘You seem very cheerful this morning, Jacob.’
‘I am.’ He glanced at Rose, couldn’t stop himself, but she kept her gaze fixed on her plate.
‘I’m glad to see it,’ Grandmama said, looking pleased. ‘Very glad. Aren’t you pleased, Rose?’
Rose jumped. Her gaze flew to his and back to his grandmother. ‘I am sure it is not my place to offer an opinion, Your Grace.’
Jake felt nervousness like a kick to the gut. Clearly she was not feeling the same joie de vivre he was this morning. At least, not with him. Women were such sensitive creatures.
She continued to poke at the food, barely eating a mouthful.
‘Hmmph,’ Her Grace said. ‘And here I was thinking you and my grandson were getting on so well.’
Rose looked ready to hide under the table. ‘His Grace is very kind, Your Grace.’
Kind. Was that what she was calling it? He realised his grandmother was watching him and forced his frown away.
‘Young people,’ Grandmama said with a snort.
‘What about young people, Grandmama?’ he asked.
‘They cannot see what is beneath their noses, that is what. Jacob, you will have the carriage brought around at eleven, if you please. Are you finished, Miss Nightingale?’
‘Quite finished, Your Grace,’ Rose replied, putting down her knife and fork.
She’d barely eaten a thing. Blast it. But what could he say? He got up and held his grandmother’s chair. Rose did not wait for his assistance, but came around the table to take his grandmother’s arm and support her progress out of the room.
Devil take it. So much for feeling better than he had in days. Now he had a sense of impending doom.
And then there was Eleanor and Lucy’s arrival to be considered. He wasn’t sure if having them here would make things better or worse for Rose. But he did know one thing—last night must not happen again if it was going to make Rose unhappy.
Suddenly the day did not seem quite so bright.