The Scandalous Love of a Duke. Jane Lark

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СКАЧАТЬ Her wide turquoise-blue eyes stared back, but she said nothing. “What is going on between the two of you anyway?” The question had been rattling about in John’s head for days.

      “N-nothing, I…” She did not continue.

      “Nothing? He drives you home every Sunday? Have you an agreement with him?”

      “An agreement?” Her eyes kept glancing beyond him, into the shop.

      “Are you promised to him?”

      She turned a deeper pink. “No.”

      He suddenly remembered she was holding parcels and took them from her.

      Where was her groom or maid? Phillip’s family were not high society but nor were they low. Her father was the local squire.

      “Who is with you?” The question probably sounded impertinent. He was still angry over the bloody vicar.

      “My mother is in the shop.” She looked embarrassed. She had not been embarrassed with her vicar. John wished she’d feel as comfortable with him.

      He glanced through the shop window and saw her mother and her younger sister, sifting through a drawer of ribbons. Why was she not in the shop with them?

      “You are not shopping?” She flushed bright red, but said nothing. It was obvious she was not. “Where is your groom?” That was who should be carrying her parcels.

      “He is in the livery stable—”

      “Leaving you playing maid.” John turned back, looking for his own man and waved him forwards. “There’s no need for you to stand here looking to all and sundry like a pack mule, Katherine, I’ll have my groom take these to yours.”

      Her fingers hovered at her waist as though she wished to take the parcels back, but he would not allow it.

      “Katherine, is something wrong?”

      Her eyes widened. “No.”

      “And you and the vicar?” he pressed again.

      “Please, Your Grace, John, do not…”

      Her lack of an answer said there was something. Yet if there was something, why had she let him kiss her, and kissed him back. Her company gave John peace, and peace was a much-vaunted thing in his current life, he was not willing to relinquish it.

      “Do not what, Kate?”

      Her mother chose that moment to leave the shop, and his question was answered only by a ringing bell. “Your Grace.”

      John had never liked Phillip’s mother.

      “Your Grace.” Nor his youngest sister.

      John’s innards hardened to stone at their fawning pitch. They were money-grabbing, scheming females; he’d never had the same sense from Katherine.

      “Katherine, you should have called us.” Her mother, and then her sister, rose from their curtsies.

      Conveniently, John’s groom arrived and, ignoring the women, John passed off the parcels. “Take these to the Spencers’ groom at the livery.”

      John’s groom bowed and then turned away, but Mrs Spencer stopped him. “There is another here.”

      John felt a rush of irritation again. She was taking his assistance for granted, as if it was her given right to have his help. It was not. But then this is what came of showing any preference when you were a duke. He had once favoured her son.

      “Your Grace, you will not have met Jennifer since she was young.”

      His eyes turned to the youngest sister. Like John’s siblings, Jenny was much younger.

      “Your Grace,” Jenny stated again, offering her hand as though he would want to take it.

      He accepted it – only because she was Katherine’s and Phillip’s little sister – held it for a moment and then let go.

      “Are you in town for long, Your Grace?” the girl asked as if she knew him.

      “We were just on our way to the inn for refreshments if you would care to join us?” Mrs Spencer added.

      He did not care. Had it been Katherine alone however… But she remained mute, and when he glanced at her she was staring at the pavement, her face largely hidden by the broad rim of her bonnet.

      “I’m busy, I’m afraid.”

      “That is a shame, Your Grace, but you must come to Jenny’s party. It is her coming-out ball, here, at the assembly rooms. It is two weeks today. You will attend, Your Grace? Shall I send an invitation?”

      “Mama, John is still in mourning,” Katherine whispered. She had used his given name.

      “I had not forgotten.” The woman thrust at Katherine. “It will do no harm if he does not dance.”

      Anger struck him again over Mrs Spencer’s presumption. He did not appreciate being told what he may do.

      “Phillip will be there of course.”

      Phillip could go hang, but John would attend for Katherine. It would give him a chance to have another hour or so in her company.

      “I shall come. Send the invitation. But now I must be getting on.” He bowed slightly to Katherine’s mother. “Mrs Spencer.”

      She curtsied.

      “Miss Jennifer.” He nodded again as the girl dropped another deep curtsy, trying to please.

      Then he looked at Katherine. “Katherine.” She curtsied, but he caught her hand before she dropped too deep and lifted it to his lips. His kiss pressed onto the same pair of kid leather gloves she had worn at the funeral and in the road the other day.

      She blushed again.

      “Good day ladies.” He let Katherine’s hand go.

      “Your Grace,” her mother and sister replied.

      But she said, “John.” Before he turned and walked away.

      He returned to the shop an hour later, though – frustration niggling after none of his suppliers had expressed any inkling of error in Wareham’s work – and did what he should not do. He had seen the longing in her eyes before she’d turned and he could simply not resist the urge.

      ~

      “Miss, this came an hour ago.” Hetty, the housemaid, bustled into Katherine’s bedchamber, carrying a large round box, excitement in her voice. “Mr Castle put it in the scullery and forgot to bring it up. I said to him, how could you forget it when ‘tis for Miss Katherine, she never gets nothin’, do you Miss?”

      Katherine’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you certain it is not for Jenny? She and Mama ordered all sorts in Maidstone yesterday.”

      “No, СКАЧАТЬ