Duke I’d Like to F…

by Sierra Simone

  Puzzled yet intrigued by their behavior, he nodded permission, and the two older women hurried to the far end of the room.

  Jasper leaned back in his chair and tapped his chin. “I now find myself exceedingly curious to know your request, Miss Blair.”

  She took an audible breath. “We don’t seek funds, Your Grace. I am here to discuss a delicate matter.”

  “Indeed? Go on.”

  Miss Blair’s cheeks darkened to rose. “It is…most delicate.”

  Why was she so hesitant? He understood the natural reticence of a country miss toward a high-ranking stranger, but he wasn’t an ogre. Perhaps this angel sensed all the wicked things he wanted to do to her, aged guests, servants, and library location be damned.

  “Nothing is too delicate for my ears. Is it a complaint, perchance? One of my staff or tenants behaving badly?”

  “No, not at all,” she replied, taking another deep breath. “Actually, I wondered…that is, if you agree…Your Grace, I should like to hire you as my first lover.”

  Jasper froze, temporarily robbed of speech. He must be hallucinating. Surely the daughter of a village vicar hadn’t just enquired about hiring him for bedsport.

  Yet Miss Blair sat here, her cheeks now scarlet, waiting for a response.

  Bloody hell.

  The Duke of Gilroy was the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life. Even the hushed magnificence of the library, with its floor to ceiling shelves of leather-bound books, priceless artworks, and thick Aubusson rugs, had faded into insignificance when he’d stood to welcome them. Gracious, that face. Piercing blue eyes, square jaw, and glossy dark brown hair attractively streaked with silver. Better still, the duke must be at least several inches taller than she; with massive shoulders encased in a perfectly tailored black jacket, a simple rather than fussy cravat, and thankfully, no lace at his wrists. Probably her upbringing, but she’d never liked garish patterns or excessive trim.

  Alas though, the bold request had broken him.

  Ada bit her lip in dismay as Gilroy stared at her with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Should she speak? Snap her fingers?

  At last he blinked. “Er—”

  “I apologize,” she mumbled as she stood, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. The Grand Cock Plan was indeed the worst in history; she’d been a complete twit to think even for a moment that the duke might agree to bed her. “I’ve never asked that of anyone, naturally you wouldn’t want to. I’m hardly your usual preference, am I? Oh dear—”

  “Sit down, Miss Blair,” he said sternly.

  Ada sat. If this were a Mrs. Radcliffe novel, no doubt she, Ruth, and Martha would shortly be locked in a dank cellar by a loyal footman, or blindfolded and tossed into a rickety carriage for an endless journey around a haunted moor. Heroines were often punished for being foolish, but if she could plead her case…

  “Do forgive my impertinence, Your Grace. Is there any chance we could pretend this never happened? I won’t darken your doorstep ever again.”

  “Impossible,” Gilroy replied, tilting his head and fixing that startling blue gaze upon her. “It is etched in my memory now.”

  Ada hesitated. He didn’t sound cross. Nor were his cheeks flooding with color the way her father’s did when he was about to unleash his volcanic temper. In fact, the duke looked almost amused. “You aren’t…offended?”

  “Surprised would be the word, Miss Blair. ’Tis not every day that a gently bred virgin enquires if she might hire me as her first lover. Is there a particular reason I am your choice?”

  “Forgive me if I am misinformed, Your Grace,” she began slowly, grasping for words that wouldn’t make her sound like a Bedlamite, “but it is my understanding you enjoy short affairs with strict yet naughty contracts. And, you do not gossip about your former lovers. That is what I’m looking for. A man who is experienced, discreet, and mature, so the bedding is pleasant, and I can learn many things without fear of scandal or banishment.”

  Rather than shock or dismay at her announcement, Gilroy merely nodded. “You are not misinformed. But I wonder why you seek a brief affair rather than, say, marriage? It is an unusual path for a vicar’s daughter.”

  After twenty-nine years in the Blair household, the duke’s questions were so calm and reasonable, so lacking in judgement or censure, it was almost confusing. But he seemed to value honesty. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  Ada clasped her hands. “My father does not wish me to wed. He prefers I live with him and act as his housekeeper, so he has frightened away every suitor I’ve ever had. No man in Charlton Kings or even Cheltenham will come near me now. But I really would like to know how it feels to sing like a nightingale in bed,” she finished wistfully.

  Muffled giggles sounded from the far end of the room; Ruth and Martha were indeed listening intently. Yet Gilroy didn’t laugh.

  “I see. And how much are you willing to pay for such a service? Lovers who make you, er, sing like a nightingale in bed don’t come cheap, you know.”

  She almost gasped at the twinkle in his eye. Had negotiations commenced? Could the duke actually be considering her request?

  “I…ah…I’m not sure,” she replied unsteadily, rummaging through her reticule with clumsy fingers to retrieve the small leather coin purse that her godmothers had generously added several shillings to. “I’m sure everything costs more in London, including hired lovers, but we are in Cheltenham. Perhaps…a shilling per bedding?”

  Gilroy grinned. Not a small smile like before, but an actual grin that revealed a flash of white teeth and turned handsome into devastating. “I’m relieved you think me worth a shilling. Would have been a terrible blow if you’d offered a farthing, even in Cheltenham money.”

  Good heavens. The duke was teasing her. Men never did so. They either assumed a vicar’s daughter lacked humor or feared her father’s wrath too much to share jests, let alone any bawdy talk. Fortunately, Ruth and Martha shared everything.

  “I must warn you, Your Grace,” she said, smiling in return, “I hold high expectations of my employees. Should you choose to accept my offer, you will certainly earn that shilling.”

  “Oh, I intend to, Miss Blair. Every single penny.”

  Ada shivered as the words rasped across her skin, tightening her nipples and causing her pussy to throb. This was another first: being regarded with such appreciation, as though he were a parched man in the desert and she a glass of cool lemonade. Quite frankly, it was lovely. “You’re saying…you agree to be hired?”

  The duke inclined his head. “On the proviso there is nothing further or permanent, of course. For I am certainly not a marrying man, nor will I be manipulated or tricked.”

  “Understood,” she replied, almost breathless with excitement. Ada Blair, soon to be virgin no more! “Allow me to reassure you that I have no expectations beyond pleasure for the duration of your visit to Cheltenham. I am nearly thirty years old, not some foolish green miss.”

  “Then we shall be well-matched companions, as I recently turned forty. I suggest we meet tomorrow to outline contract terms. Do you have a preference where?”

  Ada pondered and discarded several options. It was difficult to be discreet in a small town. “What about the old gamekeeper’s cottage at the edge of your estate? The Tudor one? All those trees for privacy, and it’s an easy walk from the vicarage. Say two o’clock?”

  “An excellent idea. Two o’clock,” he agreed. “Your friends will provide excuses should anyone seek you?”

  “Oh, certainly, Your Grace,” called Ruth cheerfully. “We’ve already informed Ada we are happy to be her alibi, anytime of the day or night, and shall personally ensure you aren’t disturbed at the cottage. She needs this.”

  “My word, yes,” added Martha. “Long past time our girl let her hair down.”

  “Indeed,” said Ada wryly. She stood and held out her hand. “Until tomorrow, Your Grace.”

  Gilroy rose to his feet and moved in front of the desk,
and next to him she was almost delicate rather than ungainly. How glorious. Then he took her hand and brushed a brief kiss across her knuckles. “I look forward to earning my pay, Miss Blair.”

  She trembled at the jolt of sensation. If his warm, firm lips felt that good on her hand, she could only imagine the impact on her lips or breasts. Between her legs…

  “Ada,” she choked out, barely suppressing a moan. “My name is Ada.”

  “Very well. Ada.”

  Somehow, she curtsied before turning and walking toward Ruth and Martha, who both winked and grinned. In truth she wanted to dance their little parlor jig, for not only would she at last discard her virginity, it would be with a skilled and exceedingly handsome man.

  Today had been a very, very good day.

  Chapter Two

  “Here you are, Your Grace. The food for the estate jaunt. They’re all things that won’t spoil, and the bread is freshly baked.”

  Jasper smiled briefly at the maid as he took the bulging leather satchel. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, there are napkins and cutlery as well, I tucked some into the side pocket. The wine and lemonade are wrapped so they keep cool.”

  “You’ve thought of everything,” he said, handing her a sixpence for the trouble. “Much obliged.”

  The maid beamed at him, then scampered away.

  Jasper set down the satchel and glanced yet again at the clock resting on his bedchamber mantelpiece. Never had time moved so slowly; despite the passing of at least a thousand days, the hands insisted it was noon. Still two hours before his tryst with Miss Blair in the old gamekeeper’s cottage.

  No, not Miss Blair. Ada.

  He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had fascinated him so. Yes, he’d been initially startled at her offer, but the more he’d delved into Ada’s reasons for wanting a lover, the more they had made sense. A vicar’s daughter living in a small village would indeed require a discreet man, especially if her father was an obnoxious boor who made her work as an unpaid scullery maid. If nothing else, Ada deserved numerous orgasms simply as a reward and respite from that.

  But the way she’d reacted to having her hand kissed…even now he could recall the satiny softness of her skin under his lips, the way she’d trembled and sucked in a little breath, the visible imprint of taut nipples against the bodice of her gown. She might be innocent, but this was a woman made for carnal delights, and he couldn’t wait to show her how good it felt to have tongue, fingers, or cock inside her.

  Indeed, he would take the honor of introducing her to pleasure very seriously indeed.

  Jasper continued to pace between the enormous four-poster bed and the window overlooking the flower gardens. What a damned difference a day made. Or should that be what a damned difference the promise of a tryst with a beautiful and interesting woman made. He wasn’t entirely sure why Ada had captured his interest so completely, when in recent months not even the most accomplished courtesans in London had tempted him. Hell, not a single lady at his birthday ball had tempted him either, and there had been literally hundreds of well-bred daughters, sisters, and widows assuring him in no uncertain terms that they were willing and available.

  Perhaps it was the novelty of being the lover hired rather than the one hiring. For a shilling.

  That still made him smile. Considering most London courtesans expected houses, carriages, servants, and their bills paid, he could well be England’s cheapest lover. But it wasn’t about the money. It was about helping Ada taking control of one thing in her life, a luxury he suspected she’d never enjoyed. And the benefit wasn’t one-sided; he would at last be fucking the woman of his most private fantasies: a tall, blushing blond with bountiful curves. As long as their affair remained a secret, there were no disadvantages here.

  “Your Grace? You sent for me?”

  Jasper glanced up to see his longtime housekeeper, Mrs. Eden, hovering in the doorway. She was the wife of his steward, an absolute treasure of efficiency who kept secrets like a vault. He’d not wanted to involve her as he filched a jar of her wonderful herbal potpourri, some dusting cloths, and a set of the finest linen sheets to take to the cottage. Alas, though, he desperately needed her assistance.

  “Ah, yes. I’m hoping you can help me with something important.”

  Mrs. Eden smiled quizzically. “Of course. What is it?”

  Gah. He could actually feel his cheeks heating a little. But damn it, Ada would not perform household tasks for him. “I need to learn how to make a bed.”

  Her eyes bulged. “Are you unhappy with a chambermaid in particular? Do they all need further training? Oh dear, I—”

  “It’s not that. I will shortly be meeting a companion elsewhere, and, er, wish to be responsible for the task.”

  “Ohhhhh,” Mrs. Eden replied, her expression easing to bemusement as she walked over to his bed and yanked the heavy embroidered quilt and sheets onto the floor. “That is a surprisingly sweet reason. Watch closely, now. We start with the first sheet draped onto the mattress evenly, tuck all the corners and around, smooth the fabric…”

  Well. That looked easy enough.

  A quarter hour later he’d muttered every curse word he knew, in three languages, and pledged to raise the wages of all chambermaids in the household. Mrs. Eden appeared to be torn between strangling him and howling with laughter as his eleventh effort sailed across the mattress to hang drunkenly over the side of the bed like a young buck after his first night out. “This is bloody ridiculous.”

  His housekeeper’s lips twitched. “I’m sure sheets won’t be front of mind for the lady.”

  “I want to make it nice,” he said irritably. “Someone else shouldering the burden for a change.”

  Mrs. Eden stilled, her gaze turning thoughtful. “So, that’s the way of it, is it?”

  Jasper shook his head. He’d lost his noted composure over Ada, first pacing and watching the clock, then attempting to learn bed-making. Yes, he felt an unusually powerful attraction, but she would still be a temporary mistress, nothing more. “Never mind. I’ll muddle through. I’m sure you’ve far more important tasks to do.”

  “Just remember to tuck in the corners. Enjoy your afternoon,” said Mrs. Eden as she bobbed a curtsy, and departed the room.

  Annoyed at his excessive preparation, Jasper quickly packed the sheets, cloth, and potpourri into the satchel before adding the final items: quill, ink, and parchment for the contract he and Ada would write together. When finished, he hauled the satchel over his shoulder and made his way downstairs and outside to the stables to find his pure black stallion, Thunder.

  The weather was warm and sunny, perfect for a ride and to preserve the fiction that he would be jaunting about Gilroy Park. Thunder was always eager for a good country gallop, and as he lived mostly in London, he didn’t indulge the beast as often as he should.

  “C’mon boy,” he said as they trotted past the extensive herb gardens that surrounded the manor proper. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

  At the lightest flick on the reins, Thunder surged forward. They practically flew across the rich pasture, and with a gentle breeze caressing his face, Jasper nearly forgot propriety and whooped. What could be better than riding prime horseflesh on a summer’s day to meet a beautiful woman for a secret tryst?

  Although his lands stretched as far as the eye could see—a full two thousand acres that included woods rich with deer and game, hunting lodge, orangery, a lake for trout fishing, tenant farmers, and cornfields—it took Thunder less than a quarter hour to reach the old gamekeeper’s cottage. After removing his horse’s tack, completing a quick rub down, feeding him some oats and fresh well water, and setting him loose in the fenced paddock next to the cottage, Jasper walked over to the small Tudor-era building. As a family home, the single-story red brick dwelling with diamond-paned windows and dark brown shutters was wholly inadequate. But for lovers it was ideal—private and quiet, with a kitchen, larder, privy closet, solar, and bedchamber.

/>   He unlocked the door and walked inside.

  Ugh. He should have given himself an extra day to clean the place. Thankfully it wasn’t moldy, or housing any number of creatures, but a thin layer of dust covered everything.

  Well, yesterday he’d been hired as a lover for the first time. Earlier he’d attempted to learn the fine art of bed-making. Now he could be a duke who dusted. Ada did expect the highest of standards from her employees, after all.

  Jasper snorted and began to unpack the satchel.

  Today he truly would earn that shilling.

  “Bother!”

  Ada stared in dismay at the mess of hot tea and broken crockery on the kitchen table in front of her. Naturally, the day she attempted to finish her daily tasks as swiftly as possible, everything went wrong. Like the sturdy silver teapot—her late mother’s pride and joy—slipping from her hand as she poured and destroying her father’s cup with a nerve-shattering crash. Earlier she’d managed to accidentally decorate the hallway with freshly laundered linen, and nearly set the kitchen ablaze with a too-generous scoop of coal. Their maid of all work, Deborah, had delicately inquired if she was well.

  That was highly debatable. But how could anyone concentrate on housekeeping when a life-changing afternoon of pleasure beckoned?

  “Ada,” barked a familiar masculine voice behind her, and she almost jumped a foot in the air. “All I can hear is the most undignified banging and crashing, which is not helpful when one is trying to write a sermon.”

  A guilty flush scorched her cheekbones, and she took a deep breath before turning to face her father, Ernest Blair. They were almost the same height; he was perhaps an inch taller and noticeably thinner, with narrow shoulders, iron-gray hair, slightly florid cheeks, and thick eyebrows like two caterpillars about to duel. But as she and the rest of the parish could attest, a great deal of righteous wrath spilled from such an unassuming package.

  “Forgive my clumsiness. I promised Ruth and Martha I would meet them at half-past one to…finish darning those trousers for the charity box. They offered berries and clotted cream if I would assist, and you know how I love berries.”