The woman needed to understand she could not control him. Perhaps a shock to the system.
“Actually, Mother,” he said as a lie began to form in his mind. A story that would frighten her to her very core. “There is someone I am interested in. A rather rich merchant’s daughter.”
Her eyes grew as big as harvest moons.
“I know we do not need the funds,” he continued before she could object, he needed to truly frighten her. “But I do think a fresh infusion of new blood. Someone from outside our group.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him for a long moment, her mind obviously trying to line up her arguments against his preposterous plan. Finally, her brow furrowed as she waved her hand dismissively. “Even you could not be that silly.”
He felt the muscles in his back tighten as he prepared to dig his heels in. No one, not even his mother called him silly.
“I assure you mother. Be careful, do not push me on this matter. I have not made up my mind with regards to this woman. But I can assure you, I will never marry Beatrice Radcliff.”
His mother’s brow furrowed as her face turned red. He hadn’t seen her this angry since the time one of the maids had spilled tea on Lady Cheshire.
“I will expect to meet this woman at the Southampton’s next week,” she said as she gave him a knowing look.
She thinks I am lying, he realized as a thousand new fears rose up inside of him. Of course, the fact that there was no such woman might have contributed to that. And once his mother discovered this truth, she would return full force with her blasted insistence that he marry Lady Beatrice. Suddenly his world felt cold and empty.
He stared off into the distance as he tried to understand how he had ended up in this position. He either produced a non-existent merchant’s daughter or his life would become a living hell. A merchant’s daughter, willing to deceive his mother without insisting on marriage to a Duke. He doubted there was any such woman in all of England.
Chapter Ten
Brock ground his teeth as he swung out of bed. It had been a night of hopeless frustration as a thousand different ideas raced through his head while he searched for a solution.
Nothing. There wasn’t a merchant’s daughter he could parade before his mother to keep her harpy ways from making his life miserable.
Sighing heavily, he dressed without his valet’s assistance and stormed down to the study set on losing himself in correspondence and agent reports. It was obvious that his mother would discover his deceit and use that to pressure him.
He wondered if Mrs. Jensen might have a solution. The woman was well qualified to fix his problems. Heaven knows she’d been doing it all of his life. Although, he thought this time he might have made a strategic error that could not be overcome.
Growling under his breath, he stormed into the study and slammed the door behind him.
A high feminine squeal brought him back to the current reality. Young Ann stood on the top rung of the ladder dusting the top shelf. A good eight feet in the air. Everything snapped into his awareness. The beautiful girl on the tips of her toes, the look of fear in her eyes as she lost her balance and began to fall.
Instinctively, he reached out to catch her. The young woman landed in the cradle of his arms as if she were designed to fit there.
The fear and fright in her eyes tore at him, was it the fall or him that put it there? he wondered.
Before he could ponder the thought any further, their gaze locked, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes as if there were nothing else in this world but the other. His heart squeezed as he felt a flush of feeling for the woman. Desire, mixed with admiration, and a strong protectiveness.
She caught her lip between her gorgeous white teeth and continued to stare up at him.
The soft scent of roses and lilac washed over him. He took a deep breath, treasuring the feel of her in his arms. The feel of her hip against him, his arm across her back, the other beneath her knees all sent a desperate need through him.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he forced himself to bring himself under control.
Her cheeks grew red as her eyes searched his then looked down. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said with a weak voice, obviously embarrassed.
He should put her down, he realized, but the thought of letting her out of his arms seemed wrong. As if the universe would lose something important.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said as she looked up at him again. “I do apologize. I wasn’t expecting you this early.”
He smiled at her, “And I would wager you were reading the spines of the books you dusted. Searching for something special.”
Her cheeks grew red again as she looked away from him.
The Duke continued to study her until the reality of the situation forced its way into his awareness. He was holding his maid in his arms. If Mrs. Jensen stepped in, she’d have his head.
“Are you well enough for me to put you down?” he asked.
She swallowed and nodded. He hesitated, the thought tore at him. Those blushing cheeks, the long lashes, those lips that looked to be so delicious. A need filled him as he lowered his lips to take hers.
He had been right, the woman tasted like heaven itself. Ann’s soft moan told him all he needed to know. The woman wanted this as much as he did. It was as if they were two forces pushing them together.
Everything about her called to the male inside of him. Soft, tender, with a soul made of steel.
No! he thought as he forced himself away. This was wrong in so many different ways. The woman was under his employ. He had no right. Yet, he could not stop staring at her. Even now, their eyes were locked, with a thousand different messages flashing between them.
NO! He couldn’t. Not with this woman. Never.
Sighing internally, he slowly lowered her to her feet. An emptiness filled him and once again he thought of society's rules that placed this woman out of bounds.
It was only the brief look of disappointment on her face that provided him any solace.
Both of them swallowed hard as they stepped back from each other, she focused on looking down, he unable to take his eyes off the gorgeous heart-shaped face before him. The woman really was lovely. A classic beauty.
Even dressed in a maid’s uniform with a white cap the woman stood out as special. He had known it from the first moment he had seen her. But there was something else. The struggles she had endured. Her obvious intelligence. The story of her saving Little Lizzy. The way she had gained Mrs. Jensen’s respect. All of it told him that this was a special woman.
“I do apologize, Ann. That was most unbecoming of me,” he said as he fought a raging battle inside of himself. The woman deserved so much more.
A pretty blush returned to her cheeks before. She glanced up at him, then again down at the floor. There was something in that look that made his heart lurch. A hint of regret, fear, and hope.
“Can you ask Mrs. Jensen to come see me?” he asked.
Her eyes opened wide, obviously terrified he was going to dismiss her for being so forward. Even though it had been all his fault. Did she really think so little of him?
He sighed. “Again, I am sorry and I can promise you it will never happen again.”
She stared up at him with a strange look that he couldn’t decipher. Some strange female look that would remain a mystery.
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said as she started to scurry from the room. She probably can’t wait to get away from me, he thought with a sudden sadness. He sighed to himself as a feeling of emptiness washed over him. Oh well, he needed to focus on the problem he had created with his mother. The last thing he should be doing was badgering one of his maids. It was the most ungentlemanly thing imaginable.
The door opened and Mrs. Jensen stepped in. His stomach lurched. Had Ann told his housekeeper? If so, Mrs. Jensen would hang him from the rafters. Or worse, express her disappointment in him.
No, he realized, Ann had not said a
word about the kiss. She appeared too calm. He pointed to the chair before the desk and asked her to take a seat.
Her eyebrows rose, obviously surprised. But she quickly brought herself under control as she sat down and gave him a look. The same one she had given him when as a little boy he had broken his mother’s vase. As he remembered it, she had cleaned up the mess and his mother had never known she was missing a Chinese artifact from the other side of the world.
“I was wondering when you would call me,” she said with a frown.
“You know?”
She scowled at him, as if to say of course she knew. “Mary overheard your mother talking to her secretary when she served their tea. Of course, I know. A rich merchant’s daughter. Whatever were you thinking?”
Brock shook his head. Why was he not surprised that she was aware? “Any solution?”
His housekeeper shook her head at him, but he knew she had worried at the problem through the night. “As I see it, Your Grace,” she began, “you have several choices. You could admit to your mother that you lied to her …”
He scoffed and shook his head. “Never. It would break a lifetime habit.”
Mrs. Jensen looked down to try and hide a brief smile. “You could always tell her you have changed your mind and accept Lady Beatrice. I know your mother would be very pleased.”
A shudder ran through him as he shook his head. “We need a solution that does not involve me ending up before a vicar. Remember, that is the goal.”
She sighed heavily, “Marriage might be good for you, Your Grace. Heaven knows you will need an heir. You can’t really believe your cousin would make a good Duke.”
He frowned. “Regardless, let us put that aside for the moment. If I ever marry, it will be years from now.”
Her forehead creased in disapproval as she shook her head. “You could simply ignore the entire situation. Don’t attend the Southampton’s Ball. Tell her you have decided not to marry and she has to live with the results.”
The Duke of Bedford leaned back as he tented his hands and tapped his lips. Possibly. Perhaps it might work.
“Of course,” Mrs. Jensen continued, “I believe Her Grace would move in here permanently in an endeavor to change your mind.”
The Duke shuddered and shook his head. “Exactly. I just need enough to convince her of the possibility I might marry a commoner. Once she believes that, I think she will stop pushing in hope I change my mind. A delay, in her mind, is better. She also knows that if she pushes another candidate, I will do the opposite and marry this imaginary woman. And knowing my mother. She believes her standing in the ton will suffer if her son marries a commoner.”
Mrs. Jensen continued to frown at him. “Why a rich merchant’s daughter. Why not a Lady?”
He sighed, “I didn’t really think it through.”
His housekeeper laughed and rolled her eyes.
“But,” he continued, “do not forget, Mother knows every eligible Lady in Briton. If I had named someone, she would have had me before the altar by next week.”
“Then I suggest you find a rich merchant’s daughter. Someone willing to fool your mother so that she returns to the Norwich estate satisfied. Then, this young woman must be willing to step aside. And, oh yes, her relatives must be willing to allow their daughter and or sister to be humiliated when a Duke leads the ton to believe he is interested in her, then at some point later, refuses to marry her.”
He frowned as he realized just how difficult it was going to be.
“A young woman willing to let a Duke slip through her fingers without making a fuss,” she added to drive home her point.
He laughed. “You and I both know that no such woman exists.”
Mrs. Jensen frowned at him, “You aren’t that special, remember.”
A warm appreciation for this woman filled him. What would he do without her? “It is not me. It is the title and you know it.”
“And the money, never forget that,” Mrs. Jensen said as she looked off into the middle distance, obviously trying to come up with a solution.
The Duke of Bedford sighed, there didn’t appear to be any solution in sight.
“Perhaps an actress,” Mrs. Jensen said. “Hire a young actress to play the part of a merchant’s daughter. It might cost a pretty penny. But it might work long enough to fool your mother.”
He shuddered, most of the actresses he knew were mistresses of well-known men. They were too well known and would never deceive someone like his mother. One of her many friends would point it out to her. Probably the wife of the young woman’s benefactor.
“No, that won’t work,” he said as he sighed.
The two of them sat there in silence, both trying to come up with a solution. They were interrupted by a soft knock at the studies, door.
“Yes,” he yelled, upset at being interrupted.
The door opened slightly as Young Ann looked in, her face as white as schoolhouse chalk. His heart jumped at the sight of her then lurched when he realized he had frightened her. The girl must be terrified of him after their kiss.
“Yes,” he said in a much softer voice.
The young maid curtsied then said, “I’m sorry for interrupting, Your Grace, but Mrs. Jensen is needed in the kitchen.”
His housekeeper raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, Cook, and Her Grace’s secretary are arguing again.”
Ann swallowed as she nodded. “Yes Ma’am, and it’s serious this time. Cook threatened to poison the woman’s soup.”
The Duke watched Mrs. Jenson shudder. The woman had so many problems and he had added to them.
“Thank you, Ann,” Mrs. Jenson said. “I will be there in a moment.”
Ann curtsied quickly and left, leaving a hint of summer and a flowery garden behind her.
Mrs. Jensen looked at him strangely for a moment then tilted her head to the side. “There is perhaps one solution to your problem, Your Grace.”
He frowned at her, “What?”
She nodded to the now-closed door, “Miss Ann Parker.”
Chapter Eleven
The Duke of Bedford froze as his stomach curled in on itself. He held his breath as he stared at his housekeeper in shock. Young Ann at a formal ton Ball? Why did the though shift his world.
“Your mother has never seen her. It was not intentional but works out rather well. I wish I had actually planned this.”
“Mrs. Jensen,” he said. “Are you proposing that one of my maids could hold her own in the world of the ton and fool my mother?”
“Ann Parker could,” she said. “I am sure of it.”
A dozen different thoughts flashed through him. Would she? Could she? What would Young Ann look like in a fancy gown? What if his mother discovered the deceit? Suddenly, the thought of parading her on the dance floor filled him with a happiness that surprised him.
“Would she be willing?” he asked.
Mrs. Jensen cocked her head and thought for a moment. “Perhaps. I know she feels very much in your debt.”
He waved his hand, the woman owed him nothing. No, this way was filled with traps and dangers, he thought as he tried to map each one. Yet, it perhaps offered the most hope.
“Is my mother still abed?” he asked.
Mrs. Jensen raised a single eyebrow, obviously wondering why he was asking such a stupid question at this time of the morning.
He smiled to her then jumped up and left his study. James the footman was carrying two empty coal buckets down the stairs.
“James,” he called up to the man. “Would you please ask Ann to join Mrs. Jensen and myself in the study.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” he replied.
“And James, please inform Cook I will give her a bonus if she is able to get along with my mother’s secretary. I really don’t need the added drama at the moment. And Mrs. Jensen has bigger problems to deal with.”
The footman tried to hide a smile. “Of course, Your Grace.”
The Duke returned to the study and
began to pace. His heart raced. Would she do it? Would it work?
A soft knock at the door pulled him out of his deep thoughts. Young Ann stepped in, her brow creased in obvious confusion and worry as she shot a glance at Mrs. Jensen. The poor girl was probably terrified that he had told his housekeeper about the kiss and the woman would want to dismiss the maid immediately without references.
His heart jumped, as a sense of tenderness filled him as he took a chair from before the fire and moved it next to Mrs. Jensen. “Please, won’t you sit down?” he told her.
The young maid quickly glanced at Mrs. Jensen, silently asking for direction.
Mrs. Jensen smiled softly and nodded, giving her permission. The Duke stifled a chuckle. Even here in his study, his housekeeper held sway.
He sat down behind his desk and studied the young woman. Her beauty was beyond question. There would be no problems there. His mother could well imagine him interested. Her posture and grace seemed inborn. As if she were but a princess in a maid’s uniform. Yes, he could see what Mrs. Jensen had seen.
Her speech was appropriate for a rich merchant’s daughter. Not to haughty but educated. No clipped vowels, no expletives, not even an occasional curse word.
How should he approach the subject? he wondered. Offer her a bonus as he had just done with his cook? Appeal to her sense of indebtedness?
“Miss Parker,” he began, “I am in need of assistance and I fear you may be the only person who can help me.”
.o0o.
Ann was confused on a dozen different levels. She was sitting down in the same room as His Grace. A rule that she had always believed could never be broken. Mrs. Jensen was smiling at her as if they were old friends. And her stomach was tumbling over itself with warnings of possible danger.
She had learned on the docks to recognize those warnings and always heed them. They were never wrong.
A Duke's Desire (The Duke's Club Book 1) Page 7