Chapter Nine
Three days after becoming Jake’s mistress, Rose sat with Her Grace in the drawing room. It was the only public room in the house not closed up. And as usual, because the old lady’s eyes were failing, Rose read and Her Grace pretended to embroider. A little snore indicated that also, as usual, the old lady had dropped off. Rose stopped reading and let her mind wander.
Her days seemed to so idle now. Writing a few letters to Her Grace’s dictation in the mornings. A bit of fetching and carrying during the day. Not to mention the wonderful food she ate at every meal. It was all so very easy. But it was her nights that she lived for. More and more. And each time Jake came to her chamber, he seemed more attentive, more loving.
Yet she always felt a sense of distance, too. He never shared any other part of his life. A brief mention of the V&V from time to time. An odd reference to other estates in other places as they undressed each other, or lay sated and touching and stroking.
While he listened endlessly to her plans for a dressmaker’s shop, he never spoke of his hopes or dreams. And each time they made love, he seemed a little more desperate and each time he left her before the sun rose, he seemed a little more reserved.
Only once, when he’d come to her, had she asked him what troubled his mind. He’d closed up tighter than an oyster tapped with a knife. Clearly, whatever was on his mind, he had decided it was not the business of his mistress to enquire. With a heavy heart, she had passed it off with a smile and a kiss.
He’d relaxed then and been his usual wonderfully attentive lover. What more could she ask? Why should she hurt that he did not want to share? That was not their arrangement.
Yet she was not sure how much longer she could bear their growing distance. Perhaps it was his way of showing he was ready to be done with her.
A commotion at the front door brought the old lady awake with a start. She patted at her hair to see if her cap was straight. Rose put the book aside and went to assist, replacing a couple of pins that had come adrift.
‘Great-Grandmama!’ A dark-haired little girl lunged across the room and buried her face in the old lady’s lap. ‘I thought we would never get here, Mama made so many stops along the way.’
Rose retreated behind the Dowager Duchess’s chair at the same moment an elegantly tall woman swept into the room. An eyebrow lifted at the sight of Rose, but a sweet smile curved her lips, and her eyes lit up when they fell on Her Grace. ‘Grandmother. Here we are at last.’
Rose sidled out of the room. This was a moment for the family, not for her to intrude. Head down, hurrying towards the stairs, she would have collided with Jake had he not caught her by the shoulders.
‘Rose? What is it?’
She gazed up into his face, unable to explain why she hurt so bad inside and forced a cheerful smile. ‘Good news. Lady Eleanor has arrived.’
He glanced eagerly towards the drawing room from where a high-pitched voice was to be heard, though the words were indistinct.
‘And Lucy, too. I’m glad. I thought she might not bring her, after all.’ He frowned. ‘But where are you going?’
‘On an errand,’ she said vaguely, not wanting to admit she was running away from her own feelings. ‘I will see you at dinner.’ She slipped out of his grasp and headed up the stairs.
He followed after her, then stopped, one foot on the bottom step. ‘Rose. Is something wrong?’
‘Nothing is wrong, Your Grace,’ she said, hoping she sounded calm and sensible instead of full of inexplicable tears. ‘Go and greet your sister.’ She turned and carried on.
He did not follow. He couldn’t. Not with half the household standing in the hall looking on. But she did think she heard him curse softly.
She kept going. She needed a bit of time alone. Time to remember who and what she was.
* * *
By the time she needed to help Her Grace down to dinner, she was perfectly composed. As they had when Mr Gregory had joined them, they gathered in the drawing room. Jake was already there with Lady Eleanor. Rose curtsied deeply when he introduced her to his sister. Inside, she winced as the young woman took her hand. What on earth would she think if she knew the truth about her and Jake?
‘Rose has been such a help to me these past few weeks,’ the Dowager Duchess pronounced. ‘I do not know how I managed before she came.’ To Rose’s ears she sounded a little defensive. Did she know? Cold fingers walked down Rose’s spine.
Heat travelled up to her cheeks. ‘Thank you, Your Grace.’ She risked a glance at the statuesque Lady Eleanor, who seemed to notice nothing amiss.
Strangely, Jake looked rather stiff and starchy. Tense.
If the circumstances had been different, she might have given him a poke in the ribs and told him to relax. But it wasn’t her place.
She helped the Dowager to sit and stood behind her with the old lady’s shawl over her arm, ready to place it around her shoulders if she showed the least sign of feeling a draught.
Eleanor smiled at her. ‘I am so glad to meet you, Miss Nightingale. Someone needs to care for Grandmama. Jake has a great deal to keep him busy, these days.’
‘Are you hinting that I am neglecting Her Grace?’ Jake asked. There was a twinkle in his eye. Clearly, despite his unbending posture, he was fond of his sister. Rose couldn’t help feel a pang of sadness. The man had a family, yet could not seem to fully enjoy it.
A footman walked around with a tray of drinks. Sherry. Rose shook her head when offered a glass, but the others partook and Jake raised his glass. ‘Welcome to London, Eleanor.’
‘Where is Lady Lucy?’ Rose blurted out, realising they were one person short.
Jake frowned.
Eleanor looked down her nose very much in the way Jake did when he was displeased. ‘Miss Lucy,’ she said, her voice calm. ‘No title, Miss Nightingale.’
An awkward silence descended, finally broken by Lady Eleanor. ‘My daughter is in the nursery. She was tired after the journey and I gave her an early dinner and put her to bed.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Your Grace, but she does usually eat dinner with me.’
Jake stiffened. ‘Do we have to stand on ceremony, Eleanor?’
Rose flinched at his stern tone.
Eleanor seemed to take it in stride, though her expression held sadness. ‘The sooner you get used to who you are, Jake, the easier it will be for you and the rest of us, but, no, we do not need to observe the formalities at home if you do not wish it.’
Jake put his drink down with a snap that spoke of irritation. ‘Then, since Rose is as good as family, we can all be comfortable without titles and such.’
Rose’s heart gave an odd little thump. As good as family. How delightful that sounded, yet how foreign. What wouldn’t she give for it to be true. She swallowed. She could not imagine calling the Dowager Duchess by her Christian name. Not for a second. She risked a quick glance at Jacob’s sister and saw that her smile was encouraging.
‘Dinner is served,’ the butler announced.
Jake took his grandmother’s arm and Rose followed Lady Eleanor into the dining room. No, she would think of her as Eleanor, or Jake would be displeased.
Once they were seated, the Dowager at one end, Jake at the other and Rose and Eleanor on each side, the footmen served them their dinner.
‘How was your journey?’ Jake asked. ‘Not too arduous, I hope?’
‘Not at all. Lucy was a treasure. Hardly any complaining at all, but I took Grandmama’s advice and took it in small stages with lots of walks in between. We even visited a couple of castles along the way. The child is fascinated with the idea of knights and maidens in distress. I fear I have read her too many stories.’
They discussed the proper reading for Miss Lucy, speaking of books Rose could only have dreamed of as a child. Some of them sounded wonderful. She wondered if there were any of them in the library. Not that she’d ever dare venture there again. Jake had made it clear it was out of bounds for everyone.
* * *
Towards the end of the meal, Eleanor put down her dessertspoon. ‘Why on earth are we eating in here?’
Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. ‘It may have escaped your notice, sister mine, but this is the dining room.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jake. This room holds forty people. It is like eating in a mausoleum. We should be using the breakfast room, where we always dined en famille when Papa was alive.’
In response Jacob’s gaze became frosty, his shoulders stiff.
Her Grace made a face of distaste. ‘Most the rooms in this wing, apart from this one and the drawing room, are under holland covers. It is like living in a mausoleum. Don’t you agree, Rose?’
‘Many of the rooms are indeed closed up, Your Grace.’ She had asked Jake why it was so and he had shrugged her question off. She certainly wasn’t going to offer her unwanted opinion on it. The Quality did what they did and people like her simply accepted it.
‘What is the point of opening up a lot of rooms when they are never used?’ Jake said.
‘This room won’t do for Lucy, if she is ever to join us for a meal,’ Eleanor said. ‘The poor child will be overwhelmed.’
‘Jake has taken to using the library for his office,’ Her Grace grumbled. She waved off a footman’s offer of dessert, though Jake and Eleanor accepted several of the dishes.
Rose also accepted a small portion on her plate. A lovely fruit pudding and custard. She loved the sweets they served after dinner, but tried not to appear too greedy.
Eleanor took a small bite. ‘The library, Jake? Is there something wrong with the estate office?’ Eleanor sounded scandalised. ‘Is it also true you do not yet sleep in the ducal apartments?’
What would his sister think if she knew he slept either at the V&V or in the bed of his grandmother’s companion? She’d likely be horrified. Rose wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.
Suddenly the dessert tasted like cardboard.
Jacob’s eyes turned bleak. ‘Gossiping with the servants, Eleanor? Isn’t that beneath you?’
Eleanor flushed.
Jake stiffened even more. ‘I beg your pardon, but surely where I sleep is my business.’
‘Never fear, he will take over the ducal suite when he marries,’ Her Grace said with the certainty of old age. Her gaze flickered to Rose and away. ‘His wife will see to it, of that you can be sure.’
For a long moment, Jake stared at his grandmother, his face an expressionless mask. He glanced around the table. ‘If everyone is finished, shall you withdraw, Grandmama?’
Her Grace blinked and smiled vaguely. ‘Tea in the drawing room, ladies?’
Jake helped his grandmother to her feet. The attending footmen assisted Eleanor and Rose with their chairs. Eleanor took her grandmother’s arm.
Jake bowed them out.
When they reached the drawing room, Eleanor took Rose’s accustomed placed behind the teapot. She poured with the graceful elegance of one who did not need to give a second’s thought to what she was doing or how she did it. Unlike herself, who agonised over each part of the ritual, each movement, fearing she’d display clumsiness or ignorance.
She seated herself a little distant from the other two ladies, not wishing to appear intrusive or above her station.
Jake did not join them and while the two ladies chatted, she heartily wished she had pleaded tiredness and gone to her chamber to await him there.
* * *
Jake strode along the deserted corridors. One of the first things he had done when becoming Duke had been to do away with the night-duty footmen. Not because he envisaged needing to sneak about under his own roof in order to visit a lady, but because it made no sense in this day and age.
It was a medieval practice, requiring men to sit on hard chairs at the corner of every corridor in case the sleeping occupants might be in need of some service.
The remaining two took turns below stairs watching for a bell to ring. The rest, he’d either pensioned off or found other positions.
He halted on the landing between the two wings. He had told himself he would not go to her tonight. Not with his sister under his roof. Seeing Eleanor and his niece had reminded him of his own obligations to the dukedom.
It was not fitting for a duke to keep his lover under the same roof as his family. His father would never have done such a thing. Nor would Ralph. He would have set her up in her own little house at the edge of town. In New Town or across the river. Ralph had never put a foot wrong when it came to doing his duty.
Jake gritted his teeth. How could he send Rose away when his grandmother had come to rely on her?
He stopped outside her door, a wry smile twisting his lips. His reluctance was nothing to do with his grandmother. It was his own selfishness. Something his father had accused him of that last day when he had convinced Ralph to go in his place. Selfish and feckless was what his father had called him. It seemed he hadn’t changed.
He turned the handle and walked in.
Seated by the fireplace in her nightgown, Rose looked up from her book and smiled. The gladness in her eyes warmed his heart, making the cares of the day disappear. The cold lump in his chest shrank and became less weighty.
She put her book aside. ‘I wasn’t sure you would come tonight.’
Guilt intensified. ‘Would you like me to go?’ The hurt in her eyes made him want to kick himself. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a little out of sorts.’
She rose and opened her arms to him. ‘It is all right. I am a little out of sorts, too.’
‘Because of Eleanor’s arrival?’
‘Your sister is lovely. And her daughter is quite delightful.’
Ignoring her avoidance of his question, he sat in the chair, as he did most nights when he first arrived, and pulled her on to his lap for a lovely satisfying and arousing kiss.
He was relieved to discover not a scrap of hesitation in the way she melded her lips to his. He ran his hand over her back and down over the lovely swell of her hip, feeling the change in her breathing against every inch of his body, sensing her relax into him, bringing her breasts flush with his chest. Her fingers combed through the hair at his nape and his mind seemed to settle, even as his body came awake in a surge of hot blood.
Finally, breathlessly, they broke apart. She rested her head upon his shoulder as she always did. A gesture of trust, but the hand clutching at the lapel of his dressing gown spoke of possession. Of need.
He needed her, too.
The only time he slept well was in her arms. As often as he had tried to tell himself it was ridiculous, it was the truth.
He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her. But he could not bring himself to give her up. Not yet.
So often in the past he had found himself bored to tears by a woman within a very short space of time, a week or two, sometimes even within days. With Rose he never had the slightest urge to be anywhere else. Not even when they sat silently as they did now.
Rose released her grip on his dressing gown and patted his chest. ‘How was your day?’
Such a small thing to ask, but it always soothed him, let him talk of things he never discussed with anyone else. ‘I heard from the steward at Maston. The sheep have foot rot.’
She shuddered. ‘That sounds horrible.’
‘It is. We are likely to lose the whole flock.’
‘Lambs, too?’
He had told her about lambs. The way they pranced around each other and the way their little tails wagged when they nursed. ‘All of them.’
‘That is...so sad.’
‘It is. It is also a financial disaster.’
He hadn’t realised until he came into the title how close to the edge of bankruptcy the Duchy operated with its heavy reliance on the land for income.
She frowned. ‘One flock can make that much of a difference?’
‘It is the same for everyone. Since the war ended, more and more men are leaving the land to work in factories. I have fewer tenants and therefore less income from rents. Not to mention the price of wool has plummeted. A loss like this will make things even worse.’
It was why his father had asked him to go with him to Brighton to charm the Regent into selling them an attaindered estate. It would have added to their financial security for years to come, not because it would allow them to expand their farming, but because of what they suspected lay beneath the soil. Coal.
Perhaps if Father had couched his demand in those terms, Jake might have acquiesced. Instead, Father had simply ordered Jake to accompany him instead of wasting his time on what he called frivolous nonsense. Never mind that his investment in Vitium et Virtus as well as other businesses had resulted in Jake’s considerable wealth. Enough for a gentleman to live very well indeed, but a drop in the bucket compared to what the Duchy needed.
It wasn’t until he took over that he realised how difficult things had become. His father had done a fine job according to his lights. And Ralph no doubt would have known how to turn things around. While, despite his man of business’s assurances to the contrary, Jake felt as if he was floundering on the brink of ruin.
By the time he’d had the reins of the Duchy in hand, the opportunity for that other estate had been snatched up by another. Today his man of business had suggested he sell himself to the highest bidder on the marriage mart as the quickest and easiest financial solution. He’d actually suggested an American heiress.
Was it his just deserts?
‘Is there no way of saving them?’ Rose asked.
Sheep. She meant the sheep. ‘The steward and the shepherd are doing everything they can. I have every faith in them.’
‘But you are worried.’
‘We need the income. Plus we have a contract. Defaulting is not an option. I will have to buy the wool elsewhere in order to keep our side of the bargain. If word of our loss gets out to the marketplace, we will end up paying a premium on the price of those sheep and lose even more.’
‘You will lose money in order to keep your word?’
He nodded. ‘A man’s word is his bond. And besides, break faith once and no one will ever trust me again.’
She patted his shoulder. ‘I read today that the price of wool is depressed.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Is that the right word?’
‘It is. But if word of my need gets out, and it will, prices will rise immediately.’
‘What if you bought it now, before word gets out.’
‘Then I’m left with a load of wool no one may want.’
‘Someone must want it, if they contracted for yours.’
He frowned. Kissed the tip of that wrinkled nose. ‘You are right. First thing in the morning...’ His brain raced ahead. ‘You know, I have been thinking of buying a factory to make our own cloth. It is risky. If we lose all our sheep, we will have no wool to weave.’ He closed his eyes. ‘We won’t lose them. I read something somewhere. A way of cutting the losses. An article. Where the devil did I put it...?’
She captured his face in his hands. ‘Jake. It will still be there in the morning. There is nothing you can do tonight.’
‘I can send a message.’
‘To a man who is likely in his bed. It will get there faster if your messenger sets out in daylight.’ She kissed his lips. ‘You are exhausted, my dear sweet Jake. Tomorrow is quite soon enough.’
He was exhausted. Had been for weeks. The only time he slept was in here in her arms. He gazed at the expression of concern on her face, the sweetness, and relaxed. Let go with a sigh. ‘You are right.’
‘Make love to me, Jake. Please.’
What man, least of all him, could refuse such an enticing request? Even if he did not deserve such bounty.
He rose to his feet and carried her to the bed.
* * *
Held in Jake’s arms, Rose felt treasured. Being held had been a rare enough event in her life. Most of the people at the orphanage had been kind enough. They had done their best for unwanted children, but they’d had families of their own on whom to lavish affection.
This sense of being wanted, of belonging, was completely new. Even though she knew it wouldn’t last, she wanted to wallow in it. Pretend that she was the princess in a fairy tale, instead of the example held out to orphans of what would happen to them unless they were good.
While Jake pulled back the sheet, she clung on to his shoulders. When he set her gently on the bed, she opened her arms to him, welcoming him to lay beside her.
And when he untied his robe’s belt, she gazed in awe at his beautiful masculine body. Aroused for her. His lips smiling for her. Him needing her. At this moment she could pretend it was only her he wanted.
She welcomed him into the cradle of her hips, drawing him to her with her legs high about his waist.
He dipped a finger into her feminine folds and groaned. ‘So wet and hot. So ready.’
‘For you, Jake,’ she whispered in his ear. Only ever for you, her mind echoed back. She stilled. Was it true? Was he the only one for her? And what did that mean for her future? She pushed the unwanted doubts aside. All would be well, as long as she didn’t visit her own needs and desires on an innocent child.
His lips roamed her breasts, his tongue teasing and tormenting, his hands glided over her body in a trail of heat and sensual tingles.
The desire in her built until she could not bear it any longer.
‘I need you,’ she groaned. ‘Inside me.’
‘You are impatient tonight.’
Impatient. Yes. He had read her correctly. Meeting his sister, the Lady Eleanor, so beautiful, so cool and reserved, had given her an odd premonition that time was running out for her and Jake and she didn’t want to waste a moment.
Likely because his sister had agreed with his grandmother. Jake needed to wed. He seemed to take more notice of his sister’s words.
‘I want you.’ And no matter what happened in the future, one thing she knew for certain, if a child did result, despite all their precautions, she would never ever leave it to grow up alone.
He took her mouth in a searing kiss and she gave herself up to the pleasure she planned to hoard as if it was miser’s gold.
He broke the kiss, gazing down into her face. She sensed the deep weariness of soul he tried to hide from the world. Perhaps he, too, was feeling the future closing in. ‘Jake, is something wrong?’
He smiled and kissed her forehead. ‘What on earth could be wrong when I have you in my arms?’
What indeed. Whatever it was he did not intend for her to know and for some reason that made her feel sad. And distanced.
She wished there was something she could do to share his burdens. There was always this, of course. Whenever they made love he seemed to forget the outside world for a time. But she wanted to do so much more. To lessen the shadows she saw in his eyes.
She recalled the discussions of the girls at the V&V. Some of the naughty things they’d talked about doing with the men at the club.
Perhaps all men liked such things? Would he think her terrible if she offered?
She flattened her hands on his chest and pushed.
A look of disappointment crossed his face, but he obligingly broke the kiss and raised up on his hands. ‘Not in the mood tonight, sweet?’
The girls had been right. A real gentleman never forced himself on an unwilling woman, lady or not.
A wicked smile pulled at her mouth. ‘It isn’t that.’
He frowned and if anything looked more disappointed. ‘Indisposed?’
She tilted her head in question.
‘It is your time of the month?’
Oh, that. ‘Not until next week.’ She gave his shoulder a hard push and he rolled on his back, his erection arrowing up against his belly.
‘Tired, then,’ he said, throwing an arm over his eyes. ‘You should have said when I first arrived. I promise, you are entitled to your peace if that is what you want.’
She leaned over him, her hair falling forward to brush over his chest. He moved his arming, frowning up at her. ‘Don’t tease. It doesn’t become you.’
She threw one leg over him and came up on her knees so she straddled his thighs, but not sitting down.
His whole expression changed. No longer disgruntled, but intrigued and hopeful. ‘Rose?’
He sounded hopeful, too.
She glanced down to see him beautifully aroused. When they joined she knew it would feel wonderful. But first she wanted to do a little exploring.
Heat rushed to her cheeks at her wanton thoughts.
But when she looked up to see his face, to read his expression, his gaze was fixed on her breasts.
A hand reached out to cup her and it felt wonderful and gentle, tender.
She grazed a thumb over his flat nipple, ran her fingers through the rough smatter of hair in the centre of his chest. His breathing hitched at her touch.
He grinned. ‘I see what you are about. Trying to seduce an innocent young man.’
She circled his nipple with a fingertip and watched in fascination at the way the nipple furled up tight the same way hers did when he touched them. She leaned forward and licked. The little bud felt like a bead against her tongue. He moaned softly.
‘It is hard to imagine you as innocent,’ she said, sitting up to regard the result of her efforts.
He tried to look insulted, but his pout was adorable. ‘I was until my brother Ralph introduced me to a local widow looking for a young man to make her happy. She taught me all I needed to know.’
‘She pleased you?’ She bent forward to lick the other nipple as if she could swipe away memories of that other woman.
He groaned. ‘What were you saying?’
The girls had been right. A man with lust on his mind lost the ability to think. ‘About the widow.’
He gasped as she grazed the hard nub with her teeth. ‘Rose!’ He stroked her hair back from her face. ‘How sensual you are,’ he said. ‘She was a kind lovely woman. I was very fond of her. Also very disappointed to come home from university and learn she had married again. But then I hadn’t met you.’
Her heart gave an odd little squeeze. ‘Don’t try your charming ways with me, your Dukeship.’
He laughed and that sound, that rascally look on his face, was what she had been looking for. As a reward, she bent, intending to give his lips a brief kiss before setting about completing her plan, but he caught her around the nape and held her while he deepened the kiss and they both became breathless.
But she wasn’t about to be deterred. Once more she rose up on her knees, working her way backwards.
His eyes widened. He reached out as if to stop her, then let his hands fall away. ‘Leaving already, Miss Nightingale?’
‘I can’t leave, this is my bed.’ She swooped down to swirl her tongue in his navel.
He gasped. ‘Oh, you really don’t want to—’
The gravel in his voice made her insides clench. The girls were right about this also. She slid back another few inches, until her prize was right where she needed it. She grasped it firmly, pausing to admire the pulsing life of it, the darkness of the skin, the rigid length, and dipped down to swirl her tongue around the blunt head that gave her so much pleasure.
The taste was remarkable. Salty, male, hot against her tongue. His hips came up in silent plea. She glanced up to see the agony of extreme pleasure etched on his handsome features as he watched her with hot eyes.
She took him into her mouth and he cried out, a rough feral sound from deep in his throat. As she swirled and licked this most pleasurable part of him, she learned what made him gasp and what made his hips buck out of control, and in the end, that when she drew hard on that part of him, learned what drove him to a pitch where he could hold out no longer.
In a flash of movement, he lifted her up and had her beneath him, driving home to the hilt. She gave herself up to his pleasure with an indescribably joy.
Sometime later, as she lay scarcely able to breathe, their hearts pounding in tandem, he cuddled her in his arms and stroked her hair. She felt...blissfully happy. Safe.
A dream, of course, but lovely none the less.
‘Rose,’ he whispered against her ear.
She smiled. ‘Jake.’
‘Do you ever think about your parents? Wonder what became of them?’
She tensed. ‘I used to wonder about them all the time as a child.’
‘And now?’
‘Who wouldn’t be curious?’
‘That is what I thought.’
He sounded oddly pleased. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I wondered, that was all.’ He rose up on one elbow and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘It is time I left.’ He slid out of the bed and slipped on his robe.
The chill left by his departure stayed with her for some considerable time. It was the way it had to be, without question, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Still, she had him for small snatches of time and those times were all that mattered.