The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter Seven

There was something hard beneath the straw, he was sure of it. He made to step closer—

“When will we return to London, my lord?” the duchess said, jutting her face into his line of vision.

“What? Oh…I do not know. I had thought to stay here until I finished getting everything in order with the estate. It is taking a bit longer than I had anticipated. I have run across a few discrepancies. Nothing to worry about,” he hurried to assure her. “It will just take a little more time to get everything in order. And ensure it stays that way. There are accounts I must reconcile, creditors to appease, a few properties that need work… I must meet with the managers of a few others, and then—”

Her jaw dropped. “But…all that could take months.”

“Possibly.”

“But I must get back. I…”

She trailed off, her cheeks flushing.

“Why?” he asked.

She hesitated for a moment, and his eyes narrowed as he watched her.

“The Season,” she finally said. “It will be odd if I am not in town for what is left of it.”

“But…you cannot attend the balls or larger parties while you are still in half-mourning. Even if, please forgive my bluntness, invitations were forthcoming. Which, from what I’ve seen, they would not be. I had not thought it would matter much to you if we remained here. That you might prefer it, even.”

“You thought wrong,” she said, her eyes flashing.

“My apologies if I read the situation incorrectly.” He reached over to pluck the brush from her hand. Not that he thought she’d make a weapon of it, but best not to leave certain things to chance.

Her breath caught when his fingers brushed against hers, and his gaze returned to hers. Yes, she was angry, he was sure. But anger wasn’t making her breath quicken or her eyes rove over him. At least, not entirely.

While he had no doubt she’d sooner claw out his eyes than meekly capitulate to his wishes, there was at least a part of her that wanted to turn that furious fire into a different passion.

And he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel the same.

He let his gaze roam over her form as she’d done to him. Her eyes flashed fire, and he sucked in a quick breath. Good Lord, but the woman was magnificent.

And distracting him from his purpose. He was in England to see to his ward and the estates, and possibly find a wife, he supposed. If he must. If a decent candidate came along.

So many ifs.

If circumstances were different, if Tamsin’s bloodline were noble, if he were not her late husband’s cousin, there at his bequest, perhaps something could have come of their obvious, if involuntary, interest in one another. His life at least would never be boring with her. Then again, boring was safe. Boring didn’t break any rules or destroy any lives. He strived for boring.

Though that did get…tiresome. And lonely.

She finally turned her attention back to the horse, stroking the mare’s neck while they stood in surprisingly comfortable silence.

A silence that made him belatedly realize they were very, very alone.

“I…don’t know if it is wise for me to be in here. With you. Alone.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she continued her attentions on the horse. “And why is that?”

“I may be able to protect your body, meine Herzogin, but being found alone with me could do quite the damage to your reputation.”

Her delectable mouth quirked into a smile. “If we were in London, I might agree. But surely my widowhood has at the very least bought me the freedom to linger about on my own property without the need for a retinue of chaperones. Even if there were anyone about, what would they see in any case? We are hardly likely to get into any compromising positions whilst in the stables, my lord, even if we were so inclined.”

Oh, he could think of a few very compromising positions they could get into, and not just in the stables. And now that she had planted the image in his mind, he was finding it very difficult to think of anything else.

He shifted, trying to will his mind back into safer territory.

“Still…” he muttered, and she sighed so deeply he felt it in his bones.

“Don’t you ever tire of the constant rules relegating every moment of your life into a test of your worthiness or moral fortitude?”

His mouth quirked up in a half-grin. “Actually, yes. I do.”

She glanced up at him with an exasperated, but playful, smile. “Then hush and enjoy the silence, my lord.”

He chuckled and picked up the horse brush. Might as well make himself useful.

Strangely, despite their mostly antagonistic relationship thus far, the silence between them was comfortable. Restful, even. There were precious few people he could truly relax around. His mother when she’d been alive. Frederick. And now, apparently, the duchess.

The rest of his family, his uncle and brother, were too swept up in duty and obligation for him to ever relax around them. Especially as he was just as bad as they in that regard. Though he didn’t think he was as calculating. Everything they said had an agenda behind it. Likely one of the reasons he had such a hard time taking anything anyone said at face value.

It didn’t matter in any case. His uncle would never agree to a match between them even if she would be agreeable, which she wouldn’t be, and even if he wanted to do something incredibly reckless and ill-advised such as marry her. Which he didn’t. So it didn’t matter that it wouldn’t be possible. She may be a duchess, but only by marriage. She was a commoner by blood, and the restrictions on who he could marry were unyielding. Whatever this was between them could never be and would best be ignored.

She glanced over and caught him staring at her. Rather than berate or flirt—the two most common womanly reactions to being ogled, he’d observed—she tilted her head slightly in that adorably inquisitive way she had. He opened his mouth to speak, to explain, apologize, something…and then thought better of it. Whatever he might say was better left unacknowledged and unsaid.

Instead, he pressed on with the conversation they’d actually been having, ignoring the one burning through his mind.

“I know my presence is…irksome for you,” he said, his lips twitching at the wryly amused smile she couldn’t quite hide.

“I do understand the necessity of your presence, my lord. Irksome though you may be.”

Honest little thing, wasn’t she?

“Good—”

“What I do not understand is our presence at Herringbrook. There is no need for us to wallow in the country. Certainly not I, in any case.”

His brow furrowed. “I admit I fail to see why you wish to return to town so ardently. I was under the impression there is little for you there. At least while you are still in mourning.”

She huffed. “There is much for me there. My friends, my work—”

His frown deepened with his confusion. “Forgive me, but your quest for acceptance is in large part because you do not have friends, is it not?”

She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. “I have friends, my lord. Not many, true, which makes the ones I have all the more precious and is why I am loath to leave them.”

“Yet your ability to socialize with your friends is hampered at the moment by your mourning. And as for your work… What work would that be, Your Grace?”

“I…” She blanched and then straightened her shoulders. “I support a multitude of charities, my lord, organizations that I care a great deal about, and I fear that without me—”

“As long as they have your coin, I’m sure they will get along just fine without you for a few months, Your Grace.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps they have more regard for my efforts than you do. My lord.”

He sighed. “That is not what I wished to—”

“If you wish to remain here, that is your prerogative,” she said. “But I would like to take my son and return to London.”

“ I would prefer you both stay here. Where I can keep watch over you.”

She planted her hands on her hips and jutted her chin into the air. “And I wish to leave.”

“Very well. You may do so. But,” he said before the triumph completely lit up her face, “I wish for your son to remain here. For now.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice dangerously low.

“It was his father’s wish. The country air will do him good. And as I need to be here for at least a little longer straightening out the mess of paperwork your late husband left behind, it is the perfect opportunity for the young duke to partake of what the countryside can offer.”

“London is perfectly healthy for him, my lord.”

“Be that as it may, I think it is best to remain here. For the time being,” he said, closing what little distance remained between them, his gaze lingering far longer than it should on her full lips.

“I do not agree with you,” she said, letting her own gaze linger on his lips before slowly moving to meet his own.

“It is not so unusual to spend some time in the country, even during the Season. I confess I find your objection puzzling.”

She straightened, her expression freezing momentarily. She finally relaxed, some of the fight seeming to go out of her.

“It is not that I object to some time in the country,” she said with a sigh. “It is the indefinite nature of our visit that is upsetting to me.”

“I am sorry then, Your Grace. I have no wish to upset you.”

“Yet you continue to do so.”

“Not by choice.”

“Then just through sheer talent, my lord?”

He let out a short, quiet laugh. “I swear on all that is holy, you only argue with me because you enjoy arguing.”

She gave him a small smile. “And I swear by all that is holy that you only say things that you know will instigate an argument because you enjoy arguing.”

He grunted, his eyes boring into hers for a moment. Then he lifted a hand and brushed a curl from her cheek. She held her breath, and he dropped his hand, clenching his jaw with a slight shake of his head.

“Regardless of your personal feelings about me, I truly am doing my best to ensure you and your son have the best life possible.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “And I am grateful. Truly. I know all too well how many men handle their responsibilities toward their women and children.”

A shadow darkened her eyes, and Christian had the sudden violent urge to throttle any man who had ever contributed to that sad and haunted look.

“However,” she continued, “I have done my duty. I married, I produced an heir, I was as perfect a wife as I could be to my husband, and I will continue to be as perfect a mother as I can be to my son. I have earned my freedom. So you cannot expect me to welcome the threat of new shackles.”

“I am not trying to shackle you, Your Grace. Merely guide you.”

She regarded him for a moment, her lips pursed. Finally, she said, “They are much the same to the one being…guided.”

He frowned. That she wouldn’t welcome interference, he’d expected. But he hadn’t truly considered how strongly she might feel. “I shall take that under advisement, Your Grace. I do not wish to make your life miserable.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“And I meant what I said. If there is anything you need, be it large or small, a favor or merely a question, please do not hesitate to come to me. I wish to be of service to you in any way that I can.”

She nodded. “That is most kind of you, my lord, thank you.”

He nearly reached out to touch her again and clenched his fist to keep from doing so. Instead, he let out a long breath. “Well then,” he said with a half-smile. “Let us have enough of arguing for today, Your Grace. We will remain in the country, for now, while I settle the estate’s affairs. And then perhaps we can discuss the matter again.”

Her expression hardened somewhat, but she did not argue. Merely gave him a slight nod.

“Good.” He stepped back and held out his hand. “May I escort you back to the house? It is nearly time for dinner.”

She started to lift her hand and then stopped, some of the color leaching from her face.

“I…would like a moment more here, thank you.”

He regarded her for a moment, unable to shake the feeling that she was up to something. Though perhaps she had just tired of his company. After all, he hadn’t agreed to her request. She was no doubt unhappy with him. A circumstance he deeply regretted, but there was no help for it. However, forcing his presence upon her wouldn’t help. So he gave her a sharp nod. “Very well. I will see you shortly.”

She gave him a faint smile. But he could feel her eyes on him until he left the stables.

…

Tamsin waited until the count left. And then she waited longer, counting to sixty in her head five times as she brushed Bluebell before she dared kick aside the straw and retrieve her book.

She let out a quiet groan and clutched the book to her chest. That had been far too close. She needed to get back to London. But she couldn’t go without her son.

She tucked her book under her shawl and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she began walking back to the house, taking her time about it. What she needed to do was convince the count that he needed to go back to London. Persuade him to finish his work for the estate in town. Or…convince him that living in the country was intolerable so he wanted to return to town of his own accord.

Oh, yes. That would do nicely. Men were always more amenable when they thought the idea was theirs.

Her smile grew as a plan formulated in her mind. She would convince him to return to London. And she would use his own words against him to do it.

“Be careful what you wish for, my lord count,” she murmured, her smile growing.