How to Catch a Duke in Ten Days by Violet Hamers

Chapter Fourteen

“Fergus, just come and look at it and give me your thoughts,” Antony pleaded with his brother, desperate for another opinion.

They were standing in the study as night had fallen. The whole day he had managed to avoid Lady Hermione in order to keep his promise to her not to kiss her again. He had successfully distracted himself from her by concentrating on his work, but now he needed some help.

“This is not my forte, you know that,” Fergus said, looking up from his own desk where he had been going over his next naval orders.

“Well, when you are Duke, it will be your responsibility to look over this anyway, so come look.” He beckoned Fergus once more to come to his desk. Fergus sighed but followed his instructions, standing to his feet and crossing the space to come and stand beside his brother.

Antony’s was the larger desk of the two for it was always covered in paperwork to do with the estate and the tenants. He pushed a map in front of Fergus’ nose and tapped the new drawings with a pencil.

“There,” he said, waiting for a reaction.

“There what?” Fergus asked, screwing up his nose. “Antony, you’re going to have to tell me what it is I am looking at.”

“These are the new cottages I want to build for the tenants that live in this row of cottages on Rose Lane,” Antony said, sighing. “Remember? We talked about this before.”

“Oh, yes,” Fergus said, stepping away again. “It seems fine to me.”

“You barely looked!” Antony complained.

“I trust your judgement, brother,” Fergus smiled. “Now, if you would excuse me, that is enough work for me for one day.”

“Where are you off to?” Antony asked, looking up from the map.

“To the drawing room! I imagine Lady Phoebe is practicing her piano again this evening.”

“Is that a draw to you?” Antony asked, teasing his brother. Fergus hovered in the doorway, sending him a wry smile.

“She’s quite an interesting lady,” he said after a minute. “More so than I first realized.” He smiled in parting before he closed the door.

“So is her sister,” Antony muttered in aggravation before turning his attention back to the map. It was no good. He couldn’t be certain what he was planning was right. The following day he would get his steward’s opinion on it, but perhaps in the meantime he could do some more reading on such things in the library to give himself some ideas.

He rolled up the map and tucked it under his arm, tucking his pencil over his ear as he left the room, carrying the candle that had been keeping him company. As he walked into the library, he could see another aura from a different orange candle, cascading light through the shelves and books. He meandered through them, coming the center of the room where the fireplace and chairs were, to find that he was not the only one who had sought out the library.

“Good evening,” he said.

Lady Hermione jumped in her chair so much that she dropped the book on the floor, turning around with wide eyes at his approach and pulling a chuckle from him. She had sat in a different chair to the one he had found her in on the first night.

“Is the gothic tale scaring you and putting you on edge by any chance?” he asked, walking toward her.

“A little,” she confessed as she picked up the book from the floor. “You should not go sneaking around so. I blame you.”

“I’d give you an argument on that if I did not have another to make,” he said, dropping the map down to a nearby table. “You’re reading the book I’m reading.”

“I was reading it first,” she pointed out, looking up from the book with a smile.

“Touché,” he agreed with a nod. “Just don’t lose my place.” She made a point of pretending to change where his bookmark was in the book. “Are you teasing me again, Lady Hermione?”

“Not at all,” she said quickly, replacing the bookmark again. She looked around him, apparently just now realizing they were alone. “Why are you here?”

“I have come to do some research,” he explained as he turned to the nearest bookshelves, looking for some works on estate management. “Rest assured, I will not steal the book off you.”

“I was more thinking we should have a chaperone if you are going to be in here too.” Her words made him pause with a hand on one of the books and look back to her. She was fiddling with the book in her lap rather nervously.

“Do you truly want one?” he asked, prepared to do as she asked if it came to it. She did not look especially pleased by the idea. “Look, I have given you my promise not to kiss you again. Surely there is no harm in us sitting here, both doing our reading?”

“I suppose not,” she accepted, lifting her book another time. He smiled triumphantly before turning back to his book and lifting it off of the shelves with a few others. He crossed the room and took up a chair nearby to hers, being careful to leave his father’s seat empty.

“Why aren’t we allowed to sit there, by the way?” she asked, pointing to the empty seat.

“You are remembering the first night we met?” he asked, keeping his focus on the books.

“A little. I was wondering if I sat there again, as I did the first night, would you be just as upset and threaten to tip me out of it.”

“Do not tempt me,” he teased her, glancing up briefly. She blushed and looked down at her book.

For a few minutes, they lapsed into silence with the two of them reading comfortably. After a while, Antony grew frustrated with what he was reading, realizing that where he had planned to place the tenants’ new cottages would not work at all. He unrolled the map with frustration and pulled down his pencil, crossing out what he had already drawn.

“What is it you are doing?” Lady Hermione asked, looking up from her book.

“Trying to plan where to build some of my tenants’ new cottages. Where they currently live is falling down around their ears; it won’t do. The land is too boggy where they are as well,” he said, gesturing down at the map to where the tenants currently lived. She stood from her seat and came over to the table, the better to see it. “I am struggling to find where to put them.”

“What is the issue with where you have drawn them now?” she asked, pointing at what he had crossed out.

“Flood plain. I had forgotten about the river nearby. It won’t do.” He rested his elbows on the table and ruffled his hair in frustration, dropping the pencil to the table.

“What’s wrong with here?” she asked, lifting his pencil and using it to point to another side of the map entirely.

“That would be moving them quite far,” he said aloud in thought as he watched where she pointed. “Plus, the track would have to be improved to give them access to this stretch of land. Expensive.”

“Perhaps, but correct me if I am wrong…” she paused as she moved closer to his end of the table, bending over it as she moved the pencil, turning it toward the village closest to her end of the map. “Is this not a church here?”

“It is,” he agreed, noting the small cross that had been drawn on the map.

“There must be a school beside it too?” she asked.

“There is.”

“And your tenants have children?” she asked, looking up to him.

“They do.”

“And do you still not see where I am going with this?” She spoke with a small smile. He folded his arms in his chair, intrigued by her words.

“Go on,” he urged her.

“Maybe it would cost more to move them here,” she used the pencil to demonstrate her thoughts, “but wouldn’t that move your tenants closer to their church and their school? It could make their lives an awful lot easier. Maybe less school days missed, for instance.”

He leaned forward in his seat, examining the map closer. A smile spread across his features. He had been looking for help from Fergus and had somehow gotten even better help than he had been seeking, all from Lady Hermione. He wondered why he had not come to find her sooner.

“That’s an excellent idea,” he said, taking the pencil from her and drawing the cottages in exactly where she had mentioned. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” He looked up, seeing that his praise had made her smile. “You looked at it with a different eye.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning and taking the stool that was beside him at the table.

“I mean you looked at it from my tenants’ perspective. This is going to sound absurd now that I am saying it, but I foolishly had not thought to do that.” He shook his head at his own ridiculousness, marveling at Lady Hermione before him. He watched her, seeing how much she sat taller in her seat at his praise.

She is so very different to other ladies.

The words lingered with him. Not only could he flirt easily with her, be intoxicated by her, and be utterly drawn to her, but now she was proving to him how clever she was too. She had a sound head on her shoulders. It left him quite stunned.

“I imagine being Duke can be hard work at times with so many responsibilities for so many people,” she said, looking down at the map and pointing to all the different tenants’ cottages on there. “It can’t be easy. Do you have many aspirations for it?”

“Some,” he acknowledged, turning in his stool to face her. “I pictured opening a school on the estate itself one day, though that hasn’t yet happened.”

“For your tenants’ children?”

“Just so.”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” she said, sitting forward on the stool. The move brought them closer together, tempting him with the idea of her again.

“Maybe,” he acknowledged, “but it is a difficult one. Each time I come around to trying to do it, the money seems to be needed elsewhere.”

“Well, I hope you get to make it someday. I suppose the more people you tell, the more you will feel compelled to follow through with it.”

“You and one other are the only people I have ever told that to.” The confession made him reel. He sat backwards, seeing the surprise on her own features. It had fallen easily from him.

“Who else have you told?”

“It does not matter.” I cannot say her name. Not now.

He didn’t want to. It felt like she didn’t belong here anymore, and she certainly didn’t belong in this conversation with Lady Hermione. What did belong in this moment was the way Lady Hermione was looking at him.

“How come you decided to tell me?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” He was honest. “It seems I am not afraid to tell you anything. Strange. You have that effect on me.”

Her eyes were darting down to his lips in that same way they had done at the beach. “You should not look at me like that,” she whispered softly.

“Like what?” he asked, aware he was doing the same thing she was.

“Like you’re going to kiss me. You made me a promise, remember?” she said with a small smile.

“That I did.” He sighed with the words. Maybe he’d made a promise, but that didn’t mean any kind of touch was off limits.

His hand reached out toward her, and when she didn’t recoil from it, he moved the hand slightly, reaching for the leg of the stool she sat on. He pulled it toward himself, so that she slid across the floor. She jumped in the seat, leaning slightly back, until he brought her to a stop in front of him.

They were so close that her legs were practically touching his. He could feel the silken skirt of her dress brushing his trouser legs. It was tormenting him, making him yearn to touch her. When he rested his hands either side of her on the seat of the stool, he felt for sure he was pushing the boundaries too much, that she would stand up and walk away, but she didn’t.

Instead, her eyes fluttered closed for a second as though she was waiting for the very kiss that he had promised not to give her. The temptation of her was too much, but determined not to break her trust, he opted to do something else instead.

He angled his head to the side, moving so that he could reach her neck, then he brushed his lips against the side of her neck. “Y-your promise,” she said, stammering with the word.

“I’m keeping to it,” he assured her. “I will not kiss you; I am merely…” he trailed off, just as he let the brush of his lips travel downward, right to the middle of her collarbone. She gasped as she tipped her head back, opening herself to him so that he had more access.

“Teasing me, Your Grace. That is what you are doing,” she whispered. Her words made him smile against her skin.

From this angle, the low neckline of her dress exposed the curve of her breasts. He found himself angling his head further downward, brushing his lips through the valley to the top crease of her breasts. She gasped all the more, her breath coming in pants.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he promised her, brushing his lips over the top curve of a breast that could just be seen over the bodice of her gown. She did not tell him to stop at all. He smiled, thrilled by it.

Things were changing now. His want to stay away from her was vanishing completely. Maybe there was a way to indulge in this special thing he and Lady Hermione had without entering into a marriage? Maybe… it was possible if he didn’t go too far. They both wanted it, clearly. What would be the harm in it?

He trailed his lips back the other way, up to the bottom of her collarbone again, still actually resisting giving her a proper kiss anywhere. She let out a small breathy moan. “Is it possible to die of torment?” she whispered to him, pulling a deep chuckle from him.

“I’m beginning to think so,” he admitted. He lifted his hands up from the seat of the stool to the tops of her arms, then trailed them down her sleeves until her palms were in his. He pulled those hands toward him, tugging her off the stool and rearing back until she was sitting in his lap.

Her eyes were wide with shock, the green even more noticeable. He lifted one of her hands, about to torment her again by trailing his lip up the skin exposed on her lower arm. He was going to begin with the wrist when his eyes caught sight of her skin.

It was purple and blue, even swollen a little, with a nasty bruise. He frowned instantly, feeling pain in his chest at the sight.

“What is this?” he asked.