Discouraging the Duke by Alexa Aston
Chapter Seven
Emery had no idea why she had opened her mouth and invited the new Duke of Winslow to accompany her. The last time she had ridden out with the previous duke had been a disaster. She had almost lost her virtue.
And the Duke of Winslow had lost his life.
Perhaps it had something to do with the new titleholder sacking Sevill. The butler had ruled Wildwood with a heavy hand, constantly berating servants with his superior air. Though it seemed apparent this new duke had been away from Wildwood for many years, he obviously knew of Sevill’s character and was now in a position to do something about it. She also liked that Winslow had chosen to replace the butler with Thomas, who was the perfect servant. Thomas behaved professionally. He always completed his tasks and then looked to help others with theirs. He was affable and polite. The staff at Wildwood would be overjoyed when they received news of Thomas replacing Sevill.
Emery thought it might also have a bit to do with the way His Grace held himself. She had always admired the men who chose to serve in the military. Winslow’s very posture and gestures marked him as a leader, capable of whatever he put his mind to. Although he might not know anything about running an estate, she believed him to be astute. He would pick up on things quickly.
That was another reason she had volunteered to guide him about the estate. Papa simply wasn’t able to do so. While once a competent rider, she would be loath to see him in the saddle. To be asked to ride and speak knowledgeably of Wildwood at the same time would be too much for him. In the weeks since the previous duke’s death and the arrival of this one, Papa had become further disconnected from the world. Emery had taken up more of his obligations until she was now managing the entire business of the estate. It wouldn’t do for Papa to go off with this new duke because he would see immediately that something was very wrong.
Mama looked on with dismay as Emery asked, “Might you allow me time to change into my habit, Your Grace?”
“Certainly, Miss Jenson. Thank you for your kind offer. I will go to the stables and see that horses are saddled for us.” He turned to her mother. “I would like to see the house at some point, Mrs. Jenson. I feel it best, however, to get out and see what is currently happening at Wildwood and meet some of my tenants.”
“Meeting your tenants is important,” Papa said, sounding lucid. “It was not a priority of the previous duke.” He frowned. “He wasn’t Winslow for very long.”
The new duke nodded. “My brother’s priority was always himself.”
With that, he turned and left the drawing room.
Immediately, Mama said, “Are you sure this is wise, Emery?”
She placed a hand on her father’s sleeve. “Papa, why don’t you go work in your office?”
He looked at her blankly a moment and then said, “Yes. Of course. I have much to do. I will see you later, my dears.”
The family left the drawing room, Papa turning in one direction and she and Mama in the other.
“Come help me change,” she urged her mother, knowing her father would now go and sit behind his desk and be safe. For now.
They said not a word until they reached outside and begin hurrying to their cottage. With no one around, they could speak freely.
“I will be perfectly fine, Mama. I know not to get off my horse once I have mounted. Besides, this man seems far different from his brother.”
“I still think you should leave Wildwood,” her mother said. “You are well educated. You could become a governess or companion to a great lady.”
“No one will discover my lie about that day,” Emery assured. “I returned to help Papa. The previous duke chose to keep riding. Several people knew how drunk Winslow was and told Sir William. No one need ever know Winslow wanted to bend me to his will and that I gave him what he deserved before leaving his presence.”
They reached home and hurried inside. Mama begin undressing Emery.
“Besides, who would run the estate?” she asked. “The new Winslow may say he’s interested in the property but we all know the ton prefers to spend their time in London for the Season. This man has a brand new title that he will want to show off. He will need to find himself a duchess in order to get an heir off her. That will give us time. We can see if Papa gets better.”
“You are being ridiculous, Emery,” Mama said. “As much as we might wish it, your father will never be the same man we have known. His periods of disorientation grow longer. He stares into nothing for hours at a time. We won’t be able to hide his condition from others for much longer.”
Mama helped her into her habit and began fastening buttons.
“We have got to try,” she insisted. “Perhaps we can convince His Grace that he should bring in his own man to manage the estate. Someone younger. Then Papa could be pensioned off. I know the perfect cottage on the estate that we could move to in order to make this one available for the new steward. This way, Papa could keep his sterling reputation and you could keep your position.”
Picking up her bonnet, she placed it atop her head. Mama helped slide in the pins to secure it.
“We have to try,” Emery said.
“Very well. Just watch yourself with this man.”
“Believe me, after my last experience with a Duke of Winslow, I plan to.”
She went to the stables and Mr. Harris greeted her.
“Where is His Grace?” she asked. “Are our mounts ready?”
“What?” the groom asked, obviously perplexed.
“His Grace wished to see a bit of the estate and I offered to show it to him. I will return to the house. Have horses saddled for us, please.”
“Yes, Miss Jenson.”
Emery hurried back to the house and decided to cut through the kitchens to save time. To her surprise, she found the duke sitting at a table with Cook.
And he was laughing.
That alone surprised her. He had been all business in the short time she had been in his presence.
“Ah, Miss Jenson,” he said, spying her and rising. “I see you are ready for our ride.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I went to the stables and they told me you had not yet arrived.”
He glanced back to Cook, the corners of his mouth turning up. “I had to say hello to my favorite person at Wildwood.”
The old woman blushed to her roots. “Oh, go on, Your Grace,” she said, smiling shyly.
“You will make the cake?” he asked.
“I most certainly will. It will grace your dinner table tonight.”
“Thank you.”
Those two simple words shocked Emery. She didn’t remember either of the previous two dukes ever using them. Both barked orders and expected the servants to dance a jig to their tune. The fact this man actually thanked a servant gave her pause.
“Come along, Miss Jenson,” the duke prodded.
She glanced up and saw he was already at the back door and moved quickly in his direction.
As they headed toward the stables, he asked, “Was the horse destroyed? The one which threw the former duke?”
Emery gasped, horrified by the thought. “No. Zeus is the finest mount you will ever see.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said curtly.
She shook her head. He might have only come into his title but he was certainly haughty enough. She supposed being an officer in His Majesty’s army had been good training for his new position.
“Was he drunk?”
The question startled her. “The accident occurred in the afternoon, Your Grace, long before the hour of imbibing.”
The duke halted, taking her by the elbow to stop her progress. The heat of his fingers caused an odd ripple down her spine.
“I asked if he had been drinking, Miss. Jenson.” His sky blue eyes stood out in his tanned face. A small scar on his right cheek caught her eye. “I expect total honesty from all my staff.”
“I am not a part of your staff, Your Grace,” Emery said, her chin rising a notch in defiance. “I draw no compensation from the estate.”
The heat of his fingers through his gloves seared her. She felt her skin grow hot at his continued touch as her head grew light.
“Your mother led me to believe that you aid her and your father in their duties.”
“That is correct,” she said stiffly, stepping back from him, breaking the contact between them. Still, her heart pounded wildly in her chest, confusing her.
“What is it, exactly, that you do—for no pay? Tell me a few things.”
Emery began listing them. “I pay the bills for all accounts, both those in Woodmorrow and the ones in London. I meet with the tenants and record a list of their needs and grievances. I order supplies needed. I—”
“Enough.”
She swallowed, wondering where this discussion might lead.
“I would like you to draw up a list of your duties and those of your parents. I need to learn everything about this estate, no matter how long it takes.”
Dismayed, she said, “I thought you would be going to London for the Season.”
“Why?” he asked, as if baffled by her question.
“To find a wife, of course. It is the point of the Season. You are a member of Polite Society and one of its most powerful members now, thanks to your new title. You will need an heir.”
He shook his head dismissively. “I am only four and twenty, Miss Jenson. My father did not wed until he was forty and had three sons. My first and only priority is Wildwood. I plan to learn every detail about it.”
Dread filled her. This was not a man who would be trifled with. He was certainly not one who might be fooled. How was she to keep Papa’s condition from him?
He started up again and she hurried to catch up to his long strides. They arrived at the stables and she saw that Zeus and Ares awaited them.
“Mr. Harris,” the duke said, “might one of these creatures be Zeus? I am thinking the one on the left.”
“You are right, Your Grace. This is Zeus and this is Ares.”
Emery fretted, seeing Zeus was his usual ornery self, snorting and puffing, jerking his head from being held by Mr. Harris.
“I think you will enjoy being atop Ares,” the groom said.
“Why not Zeus?” His Grace countered.
Harris shook his head. “You are an excellent rider, Your Grace. At least you were as a boy. But Zeus has little toleration for anyone other than Miss Jenson on his back. She is the only one who exercises him now.”
The duke turned and gazed at her, those blue eyes penetrating her. She felt her cheeks heat.
“Is that so?” he asked softly.
Zeus began snorting louder, stomping a hoof. Emery moved to the horse, taking the harness in one hand and running her other up and down the horse’s nose.
“You must show you are a good horse, Zeus,” she told the horse. “His Grace wishes to ride you and you must let him. He is an excellent rider and will allow you your head. You like that, don’t you, getting to run as fast as you can.”
She kept talking to the horse, scratching between his ears and stroking his throat until he calmed.
“You have a good touch, Miss Jenson,” the duke said. “You might as well ride him.”
Without warning, his hands encircled her waist and he lifted her into Zeus’ saddle.
Her entire body seemed to light up at his touch. The scent of sandalwood surrounded her. Then just as suddenly, he released her and stepped away, mounting Ares.
Looking down at Harris, Winslow said, “Save tomorrow morning for me. I will come and meet all the horses and look over their papers.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” the groom replied. “I look forward to introducing you to your stables.”
The duke turned to her. “Miss Jenson? Show me what Zeus has got in him.”
She smiled. “Certainly, Your Grace.”
Emery barely nudged the horse with her knee and he took off. She was thankful he was a handful and took every bit of her concentration to control.
Otherwise, her thoughts would be on the Duke of Winslow and how her body craved his touch again.