Discouraging the Duke by Alexa Aston
Chapter Fifteen
Miles rode out on Zeus early the next morning, needing time to himself. Riding had always been his escape and his large estate allowed him the freedom to be out for several hours, enjoying the outdoors. He paused on top of a ridge that allowed him a bird’s eye view of most of Wildwood, savoring the quiet surrounding him. Although sometimes the bullets and blood came to him in nightmares, the tranquility of this summer day made the battlefield seem far behind.
He worried about his friends who still fought for the crown. Wyatt, who took too many risks as he spied for Wellesley. Donovan, who chased every pretty skirt he could and took chances in battle that would curl the blood of most men. And Hart, the ultimate protector who only saw the world in black and white, a man who would lay down his life for his friends and his men. He owed them all a letter. Finch, too, though the most dangerous thing Finch encountered as a clergyman were young ladies taken by his good looks, hoping to bring the confirmed bachelor to heel.
Those four men were the brothers of his heart. Miles hated he had to leave three of them behind at war but it was a path they had all chosen, thanks in part to the events which had shaped their early lives. He only wished Tony had lived so he could have met these men. They would have taken Tony in as one of their own. Of course, Miles himself would never had met the four if his own circumstances had been different. Tony’s murder had led Miles to Turner Academy. Without his younger brother’s death occurring, he would have returned to his regular school and his path might never have crossed with the other Terrors.
They would like Emery. Donovan probably a little too much, with his eye for the ladies. Miles hoped one day he could introduce her to his loyal comrades.
As his wife.
It seemed funny to him now that he had never thought of taking a bride. Even if so inclined, it wouldn’t have been fair to the woman he chose because he would have spent so much of his time away from her because of the war. The bloody, stupid, never-ending war with that madman, Bonaparte. If England wasn’t careful, Miles’ own sons would one day be fighting against the French emperor and general.
Still, what had once been something that had not even crossed his mind had now become an obsession—wedding Emery. Thank goodness he was a patient man because he sensed it would take heavy persuasion and abundant time to bring her around to the idea. Perhaps kissing her again might speed up the process. The thought of having her in his bed, her long legs entwined around him, caused his heart to race. He would give her time. Just not too much of it. If she thought long and deep, she would turn down his suit. At least that’s what his gut told him. Yes, Miles decided kissing definitely needed to be put into play in order to win her more quickly.
He rode down from the ridge and across the fields, where workers gathered. Spying Kit, he turned the reins slightly and led Zeus in that direction, dismounting and greeting his old friend.
“Your Grace. It is good to see you,” Kit said, bowing.
Though he hated hearing such formality from Kit’s lips, Miles understood why they must keep some distance between them in front of others. He needed to win and then maintain the respect of his tenants. Too much familiarity or partiality on his part would destroy that goal.
“I am still awaiting my invitation to dine with you and your family,” he reminded Kit.
His friend sighed. “Are you actually serious about that?”
“Of course, I am. Did you think it was talk? That I was trying to endear myself to my tenants?”
Kit grinned. “Perhaps.”
“I am serious. I do want to get to know everyone.”
“It’s just that dukes don’t go calling upon farmers and making merry at their tables.”
Miles grinned. “It is the very reason I am enjoying being a duke. Dukes live by their own rules. If I want to dine with you and the rest of the families on my land, then I will.”
Kit laughed. “You always were determined. Even as a young boy.” Shaking his head, he added, “All right then, Your Grace. You may come for a humble supper tonight.”
He motioned over his wife and she curtseyed to Miles. “Ann, His Grace will call upon us and share our dinner tonight.”
Her eyes widened even as she nodded. “Very well, Your Grace. I hope you like mutton.”
“I do,” he assured her. “I will bring one of Cook’s cakes for us to share as our dessert.”
She smiled, a dimple creasing one cheek. “That would be lovely, Your Grace.” She told him what time to arrive.
Miles tipped his hat to both of them. “I better ride back and let Cook know she’s to bake us a sweet for tonight. Do your children have any favorite flavors?”
“Bring whatever you wish, Your Grace,” Kit urged. “Billy and Becky will be thrilled with any kind of cake.” He paused. “Especially if you bring Miss Jenson with you. My Billy is sweet on her. I think most men are.”
Kit’s words rankled Miles. Tamping down his irritation, he bid them farewell and returned Zeus to the stables. Cutting through the kitchens, he let Cook know he wouldn’t be home for dinner and that he needed a cake to take to the Munsons tonight.
“Any special kind, Your Grace?” she asked.
“Surprise me,” he told her. “Nothing too grand else the Munsons might think it too pretty to eat.”
Miles went in search of Emery and ran across her mother first.
“Mrs. Jenson, might you know where your daughter is at the moment?”
“She is with Mr. Trottmann, Your Grace. Several footman are polishing the silver under his direction and Emery is updating the inventory,” she replied, telling him which room they were located in.
“Thank you.”
He located them, Emery’s head bent over a page as she scribbled away. He longed to unpin her raven hair and run his fingers through the luxurious tresses.
She looked up, sensing his presence, and he lost himself a moment in those deep brown eyes, the amber rims softening the shade somewhat.
“Did you have need of me, Your Grace?” she asked.
“Yes. I am to dine with the Munsons tonight. Their invitation extends to you. It seems young Billy Munson is a bit infatuated with you.”
Her throaty laugh caused a frisson of desire to speed through him. He would definitely need to kiss her again. Soon.
Tonight.
Miles told her what time they were expected and then said, “I will call for you at your parents’ cottage with the carriage.”
“Why do so?” she asked. “It is but a short walk. We could be there in a quarter-hour or less.”
Though he had entertained thoughts of kissing her inside the darkened carriage, perhaps a longer walk as he escorted her home would provide a better opportunity for what he had in mind.
“You are right. We should walk to our supper. I will see you later.”
A slight blush infused her cheeks. “I will be ready, Your Grace.”
*
Crowder assisted Milesfrom his bath and helped him to dress. He insisted on a plain, dark blue coat with a buff waistcoat and breeches, though a bucketload of clothing had arrived from his London tailor and shirt maker earlier in the day.
“Keep the knot in my cravat simple,” he instructed the valet.
Miles didn’t want Kit to think he was putting on any airs now that he was the Duke of Winslow. He was already aware of the vast difference between their stations and wanted his old friend, as well as Kit’s family, to be comfortable in his presence. It would help with Emery coming along. She had a talent for putting others at ease.
An excellent quality in a duchess.
He bit back a smile, wondering what she would make of his wanting her as his bride. She would protest—but Miles had always been up for a challenge. Convincing the lovely Miss Jenson to take him in holy matrimony might be his greatest challenge yet. Even greater than leading first-time, terrified soldiers into battle. Yes, it would be a battle of wills between the Duke of Winslow and the lovely Emery Jenson.
And when he won?
They would both become winners.
“Enough fussing, Crowder,” he said testily, eager to leave the house in order to be in Emery’s company. Then thinking better, he added, “You always make me very presentable, Crowder. I am most pleased with your service.”
The valet beamed. “Thank you, Your Grace. I have arranged the wardrobe that arrived today. Many fine pieces were among them, as well as everyday attire. You will cut a fine figure in them, especially when you go to London.”
“I have no intention of going to London anytime soon,” he informed the servant. “I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”
“Not at all, Your Grace,” Crowder said smoothly. “I prefer to be wherever His Grace desires to be.”
“I am one for the country, Crowder. Town holds no fascination for me.” He paused. “If you thought you were getting a duke who would live in London a good portion of the year and that you’d be dressing him in fine clothes for society events, you are sadly mistaken.”
Relief flooded the servant’s face. “I am from the country myself and quite enjoy it. Especially Wildwood. It’s a lovely estate. I have even made a few friends.”
“Good to know.” Miles started to take the hat the valet offered and then thought better of it. “I think I will leave behind the hat. I don’t think it is called for at an informal supper.”
“Of course, Your Grace. I hope you enjoy your meal with the Munsons.”
Miles left his suite and went straight to the kitchen, where Cook greeted him.
“Strawberry cake, Your Grace,” she told him. “I have already had it delivered to the Munsons at their cottage since you are walking there. I did not want you to have to carry it such a long way.”
It continually surprised him—though it shouldn’t have—how even the smallest of details regarding his life were known by his servants.
“And give my best to Miss Jenson,” Cook added, her lips twitching in amusement.
Had his cook guessed at his feelings for Emery?
He hoped not. If Cook knew, the rest of the staff would in due course since Cook was not one to hold back information or her opinion on any topic. And that would include Mr. and Mrs. Jenson. While he didn’t think the couple would protest much if their daughter wed a duke, Miles wanted Emery to know of his intentions before everyone in his household did. She had to have an inkling, based upon the kiss they had shared. Then, too, she had told him it wouldn’t happen again.
Stubborn woman.
“I will indeed, Cook. I bid you good evening.”
Miles left, his step full of energy as he made his way to the steward’s cottage. He remembered the location from his boyhood. The cottage was the nicest one on the estate, appropriate for the position attached to it. He still marveled how much of Wildwood seemed to be under Emery’s management. She was a whirlwind of activity and probably left her father with very little to do.
He arrived and knocked upon the door. Mrs. Jenson opened it and invited him inside.
“It is a lovely night, Your Grace,” she said.
“Very much so. I missed spring and summer in England when I was away at war. It is nice to be home again.”
By home, he meant not only England—but Wildwood. As each day passed, he found himself becoming more and more attached to the estate. He hadn’t realized how much he’d truly missed it until he returned as its duke. Though he knew he had a London townhouse and various other estates scattered about the countryside that he would eventually have to visit, he was enjoying sinking roots into Wildwood. Miles knew it would only be more of a joy once he wed and his children were born in this house.
Emery appeared, having changed her gown from the pale green one she had worn earlier. She now wore one of soft pink, the color which reminded him of the inside of a seashell. It made her skin luminous and her lips even more inviting. He would definitely kiss her on the way home after dinner. Anticipation flooded him.
“You look lovely, Miss Jenson,” he said, wishing he had thought to bring her flowers. Then again, that would have been deemed inappropriate by her. He still might give some to her from his gardens, just to hear her reasons for why she should reject them. Verbally sparring with her sounded like immense fun.
Almost as much fun as kissing her.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” She turned to her mother. “I won’t be long. It will be dinner with the Munsons and then straight home.” She kissed her mother’s cheek.
“Enjoy your evening,” Mrs. Jenson said, opening the door for them. “Please give my best to the Munsons.”
Miles held out a hand, allowing her to go first and then following as the door closed behind them. He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm.
“No protests, Emery,” he said as he led her away from the cottage. “The ground is uneven and I wouldn’t want to disappoint Kit and Ann if you took a tumble and turned your ankle.”
She snorted. “As if I would turn an ankle. I am out and about many times on the estate. I am not some sheltered miss straight out of the schoolroom needing the support of a gentleman’s arm.”
He laughed. “Then perhaps I am in need of the support and using you for balance.”
She pursed those lips which begged him to kiss them. “I would say as an officer who used to charge across the battlefield at full speed, you are the last person who might need a helping hand, Your Grace.”
“Miles,” he prompted. “We are alone.”
“Not for long,” she reminded him. “Besides, it simply isn’t proper for me to call my employer—who happens to be a duke, by the way—by his Christian name.”
“Unless the said duke has asked you to,” he retorted. “I am serious, Emery. We are working closely together. It seems ridiculous to maintain such formality between us.”
She sniffed. “I prefer it whether you do or not.”
He fell silent, letting her think she had won a small victory. He would be the victor come the walk home.
They arrived at the cottage, where Billy waited outside for them. The boy’s face lit up as they approached and Miles couldn’t help but grin because he felt the same way about the woman on his arm.
“Good evening, Your Grace, Miss Jenson,” Billy cried. “I greeted His Grace first because Papa said a duke is more important than anyone. Except the king. That means people should always notice him first. But you look pretty, Miss Jenson.”
“I agree, Billy,” Miles said, laughing. “Miss Jenson looks lovely this evening. Is your mama ready for us?”
“Oh, she’s been running around in circles, Your Grace,” the boy confided. “Checking this and then that. She said everything had to be perfect. That’s why I’m outside. Mama was afraid I might make a mess. So she told me to come and just stand. Not run around and get hot and sweaty. Not to get dirty. Just stand and greet you. Oh! I’m supposed to tell her when you get here.”
He wheeled and ran to the door, opening it and shouting, “Mama! Papa! They’re here.”
Kit poked his head out. “Come in, Your Grace, Miss Jenson. Thank you for coming this evening.”
“Even though I practically invited myself,” Miles quipped.
“I believe you did invite yourself,” Kit said and they both laughed.
Ann wiped her hands on her apron and came forward, offering a curtsey. “It is a pleasure to have you, Your Grace. And thank you for also coming, Miss Jenson. Billy has talked of nothing else.” She winked. “I think he mentioned something about wanting to marry you,” she said softly.
“Mama!” the boy cried, his face turning bright red.
“Well, Miss Jenson is a lovely lady. I hope you will wed one as kind and sweet as she is,” Ann said. “But she is older than you, Billy. She cannot wait.”
“Are you going to marry someone else soon, Miss Jenson?” the boy asked, looking crestfallen before Emery even replied.
“I have no plans to wed at all, Billy.”
“Not even Mr. Jernigan?”
“Billy!” his father chided.
“Well, he looks at her funny,” Billy said. “And I heard Mama tell you Mr. Jernigan was sweet on Miss Jenson.”
Emery’s fingers tightened about his arm. He glanced at her and saw her face flaming in embarrassment. She relaxed her hold on him and slipped her hand away.
Kneeling, she told Billy, “Mr. Jernigan is a nice man. He is nice to all his customers. I just happen to be a very good one because I make many purchases there on behalf of His Grace. Mr. Jernigan is happy to see me because he knows I will be spending a lot of coin in his father’s store.”
The boy crossed his arms. “He likes you,” he said stubbornly.
“Everyone likes Miss Jenson,” Kit said. “Why don’t we come to the table?”
As they sat, Miles noticed Becky clinging to her mother’s skirts and said, “It is good to see you again, Becky.”
The girl, who sucked her thumb, regarded him with large eyes.
Ann pulled Becky’s hand from her mouth. “No sucking your thumb in front of His Grace,” she said gently, pulling the girl into her lap.
The fare offered was simple yet hearty and Miles found himself relaxing being in the presence of his old friend. They began reminiscing about their younger days and soon had the others laughing at their boyhood antics.
He took a final bite of his bread and said, “That was a lovely meal, Ann. You’ve baked bread even fresher and tastier than Cook. But don’t tell her I told you so because I will deny it to my grave.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I have an extra loaf in case you wish to take it home with you. And please thank Cook for sending the cake. The children have been eagerly waiting to cut into it.”
“Then I think it is about time we did so,” he encouraged.
“Yes!” Billy cried.
Ann brought the cake to the table and sliced it. Miles insisted that Billy receive the first piece.
“You can act as our taster, Billy.”
“What’s that?” the boy asked, obviously puzzled by the comment.
“In the days of yore, the king would have someone who took a bite of everything before the king himself did. If it tasted good, then the king would eat his fill.”
He noticed Kit looking at him with grateful eyes for not revealing the true reason a king had a tester.
“I can do that,” Billy said with confidence. He took a generous bite of cake, which had a slice of strawberry atop it. “It’s wonderful,” he proclaimed, his mouth full.
Ann passed out slices to everyone and once they finished, Becky snuggled against her mother and fell asleep.
“That is our cue to leave,” Miles said. “I don’t wish to disrupt your family’s nightly routine.” He rose and the others did, as well. “Thank you for this evening. It has been the best meal I have had since returning to England, mostly because I so enjoyed the company.”
“You are welcome to return anytime, Your Grace,” Kit said. “Word has gotten out of your attendance at our table tonight. You may be deluged with invitations by tomorrow.”
“I hope that is the case,” he replied.
He and Emery left the Munsons’ cottage. This time, she didn’t protest as he slipped her hand through his arm. They strolled instead of walking, both seemingly reluctant to bring the evening to a close.
“It is very good of you to want to dine with each of your tenants,” she told him.
“Kit is more than a tenant. He is my friend. Just because I have become the Duke of Winslow, it doesn’t change that fact.”
He glanced at her as she shook her head. “You can be friendly with him, Miles, but you must learn to maintain your distance. It is what the people expect. What they actually want, whether they know it or not.”
He liked the fact that she had called him Miles. They went up a slight hill and he paused underneath a large tree. No one was in sight. They were far enough away from the tenant cottages and yet still a ways from the steward’s cottage and main house. Twilight approached, its glow surrounding them as the sun began to slowly dip below the horizon.
Turning toward her, he asked, “What is it you want, Emery?”
She licked her lips nervously, setting him afire.
“Do you still want me?” he asked, his voice low. “Because I still want to kiss you. Very much.”