The father who’d turned away every genuine offer made in the past decade had abruptly undergone a change of heart and now wished her a happy and love-filled future?
She didn’t believe that for a second.
“To whom?” Ada managed.
Ernest tugged on his jacket lapels, resembling a preening rooster. “My new curate, Mr. Micah Ambrose. It makes great sense. To truly be accepted in the community he needs a wife from Charlton Kings, and you are unwed. Even better, there is sufficient room here for us all to live, so you won’t be faced with the burden of finding a new home. Ah, what a blessing it shall be. Ambrose and I are in accord in so many ways; he’ll make you a most satisfactory husband. I will officiate the ceremony; the only thing you need concern yourself with is the trim on your bonnet and perhaps a posy to hold. Your future husband is in my study; I’ll go and fetch him so we can celebrate your betrothal.”
Ada pressed her knuckles to her lips so she didn’t unleash a bloodcurdling howl. This couldn’t be happening. After her discoveries of the past two weeks, the joy and pleasure of being with a man she desired and had fallen in love with—under no circumstances could she wed another. Especially not to live here at the vicarage forever, housekeeper to two men rather than one.
No. She had to flee this house at once. Hurl herself through an open window if need be. If she made it to Ruth and Martha’s cottage, they would transport her to Gilroy Park to be reunited with Jasper.
“Ada,” said her father jovially. “May I present your new fiancé, Mr. Micah Ambrose. I’ll be in my study; you may have a little time to become acquainted.”
As he turned and left, a slender, blond-haired young man marched into the room, and she loathed them both for assuming her compliance and delight at such a sudden and heartless arrangement. Perhaps the old Ada who’d not known true love or pleasure might have acquiesced to their wishes. But she was a woman who had at last found her voice. What would a Radcliffe heroine do?
Ada slowly rose to her feet, her gaze darting about to assess her best method of escape. If she could get the curate to move, she would have a clear path to the hallway and the front door. “Mr. Ambrose,” she gritted out, bobbing the barest curtsy.
“Miss Blair,” said Mr. Ambrose, with a stiff bow. “I consider myself fortunate to be marrying the daughter of Ernest Blair, a man I have long admired. We shall post the banns this Sunday—”
“Oh, please do take a seat, sir. So we might…discuss this further.”
He stilled in obvious bewilderment. “What is there to discuss? I am quite a catch; well-dressed, healthy, from a good family, modest of income but with excellent prospects. I’m also willing to overlook your advanced age and unfortunate height. I would, however, chide you to begin a fasting diet prior to the wedding.”
Ada’s fingers positively itched to stab him with a darning needle, but it seemed her heart wouldn’t quite permit crossing the threshold into bloodthirsty heroine. Instead, she forced a smile onto her face that was hopefully sweet and dutiful. “Then let us discuss fasting. Please do sit down and I’ll order tea. The chair by the fireplace is particularly comfortable.”
“Thank you,” he replied, as he settled into the armchair. “I do agree it is important that you are aware of my expectations of a fiancée, and indeed a wife. I am a traditionalist in that sense. For your future reference, I prefer tea without the decadence of milk and sugar.”
“Of course,” she chirped. “I’ll go at once and see to that. Excuse me.”
Ada walked along the hallway as though on her way to the kitchens. But rather than turn left, she continued on to gather her reticule and pelisse from the iron hooks by the front door. After one quick, furtive glance over her shoulder, she carefully opened the door and hurried down the front steps.
Only to halt, for about thirty feet away on the road, an elegantly dressed older woman was being assisted out of a grand carriage.
“Wait!” Ada yelped, running as best she could down the uneven gravel path toward the open carriage door. “Turn back and take me with you!”
The stranger stared in openmouthed surprise, yet something about her face was oddly familiar. “Miss Blair?”
“Yes—”
“Ada!” her father roared from the vicarage front steps. “Stop.”
The older woman slid gracefully back into the carriage. “Get in, my dear.”
With no time for decorum, Ada flung herself into the carriage and sprawled face first onto a cream leather squab, wincing as her knees connected with the hard floor. Soon they were speeding down the road, leaving her father bellowing behind them.
“Er…thank you,” said Ada awkwardly as she righted herself. “I would like to clarify that I’m not a thief absconding with the silver. Or someone who has lost their wits.”
The woman beamed. “I know. And I must thank you, for I’ve always longed to bark drive like that. It was very exciting to rescue you from the clutches of a dastardly man, like we are two characters in a gothic novel. My late husband was also dastardly, so I consider it my sacred duty to assist.”
Utterly bemused, Ada shook her head. Why did she look so familiar? They certainly hadn’t met. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding horribly gauche, but may I ask who you are?”
“Oh! Forgive me. I am the Duchess of Gilroy. I believe you know my eldest son rather well…no need to blush, dear, I am a thoroughly modern woman. I invited Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch for tea to hear the gossip, and we decided to step in and assist you and Gil in settling this love matter once and for all. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this, and it seems my timing was impeccable. Now we have a few miles to get to know each other. Pray tell me more about yourself.”
Still reeling, but not about to challenge an actual miracle, Ada leaned back on the squab.
“Well…”
How could it only be bloody noon?
Jasper glared at the clock in his library. Much like the day of his first tryst with Ada, time had slowed to a near standstill; he was ready to begin hurling objects from the window, just for something to do. His mother had informed him earlier that she would be taking tea with a few friends, and even the thought of a chattering horde of ladies gave him hives. So he’d retreated here. But now he was as trapped and bad-tempered as a bird in a cage.
Really, he needed to get her and Winslow back on the road to London before they extracted any more information from him. If his mother found out about Ada…
He shuddered. All meddling hell would break loose.
Surely it wasn’t a bad thing that he wished to figure out the love matter for himself. At his own pace. Without interference. Quite frankly, that he thought of love at all was a miracle when he’d always shunned it for being chaotic claptrap, as his late father had insisted. Besides, love matches were so rare in society; most wed for money to save or restore estates, to elevate position, or to unite two ancient families. It wasn’t as though he’d been surrounded by happy couples his entire life. Christ, he’d been in his thirties when Mother and Winslow, then Tristan and Tabitha happened.
A brisk knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” he called.
Expecting a footman with a tea tray, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of his mother sashaying through the door instead. But one look at her cheery grin, and he groaned inwardly. He knew that expression. It was her signature “after much prodding I shall eventually confess to the mischief I have been dabbling in, but will remain utterly unrepentant” face.
“Mother,” said Jasper, pinning her with the most forbidding of frowns. “What have you done?”
Lavinia hesitated, her smile faltering for an instant before righting itself. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, darling.”
“You know exactly what I mean. You’ve meddled, haven’t you?”
She took a seat, her cherry-red skirts swirling about her ankles. “Meddle is such an ugly word. I am merely smoothing the path of true love, as I did for your brother.”
Jasper’s jaw clenched. “Mother. Either you tell me what you did with no detail spared, or I cut off your milliner allowance forever.”
“Bonnet blackmail is decidedly unbecoming for a duke. As is that scowl…oh, very well. The birds in the trees told me when you first arrived here, you were visited by three ladies from St. Mary’s in Charlton Kings. Miss Lacey, Miss Kinloch, and their much younger friend, Miss Blair. Then you were seen at the Cheltenham fair talking and laughing with these same three ladies, but most especially Miss Blair. As I am thoroughly invested in your future happiness, I decided to invite Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch for tea to learn more, but they drove a hard bargain: secrets for premium French brandy. Thankfully, there was an unopened bottle in the drawing room…”
Bloody hell.
“Are you telling me you got two elderly ladies intoxicated to interrogate them?”
Lavinia snorted imperiously. “I beg your pardon. We are not elderly, but sparkling silvers. All enjoying life, able to hold our brandy better than most young bucks, and only wanting what is best for those we hold dear. In conclusion, I left Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch happily ensconced in the gold parlor while I went and abducted Miss Blair—”
“You did what?” he croaked.
“In my defense, abducted is the wrong word. She threw herself into the carriage to flee that awful father of hers. Good grief, I’ve never heard a vicar bellow like that.”
Jasper pressed his fingertips to his forehead. At least there was one aspect of this bizarre conversation his mind had managed to partially comprehend. “Ada is here?”
His mother nodded. “Oh yes. Safe and well in the parlor with Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch.”
“I must go to her,” he said, rising to his feet.
“No, you must think about what you’ll say to the woman who has captured your mind and heart. My new friends inform me your effort at the mineral spring was “er, well, good” and really, Gil. No one will swoon at that.”
“All of you need to mind your own damned business,” he bit out. “I would have said more than “er, well, good,” but I was interrupted by bloody visitors.”
“How rude, people arriving at a popular public venue.”
“There aren’t exactly a multitude of locations a duke and a vicar’s daughter can meet to chat.”
Lavinia’s smile widened. “Such a shame there are no private places about, like an abandoned gamekeeper’s cottage or so forth.”
“We don’t talk there, we…”
“Play chess,” she replied solemnly. “I understand completely. Winny and I do that regularly. For hours.”
“Mother, I beg you. Stop.”
“I cannot stop until I know you will do right by your true love. A declaration is important, Gil. You only get one chance to do it properly.”
“What makes you think Ada is my true love?” he blustered.
“Do you think of her when she isn’t with you? Are you happiest when together? Are you a better man with this woman in your life?”
Unable to remain still, Jasper began to pace. There were several reasons why they should not work; he was a duke, Ada a vicar’s daughter. They’d only known each other a few weeks. She believed wholeheartedly in love and expressed it easily; his sterling contribution was er, well, good. Yet…the answers to his mother’s questions were yes, yes, and yes.
Perhaps he had indeed found his true love. Perhaps he needed to march to the gold parlor right this minute and declare his feelings to Ada—
The door to his library crashed open.
His jaw dropped as Reverend Blair and another much younger man stormed in, both dressed in unrelieved black and clutching their hats. Only that cretin would dare, but he’d gone too far this time.
“Vicar,” said Jasper frigidly. “Explain yourself or I’ll have you removed from my estate in a manner ill-befitting a man of the cloth.”
“I think you know,” said Reverend Blair, his eyes flashing. “That woman abducted my daughter and I’ve come to retrieve her—”
“That woman is the Duchess of Gilroy and shall be referred to as Her Grace.”
Lavinia examined her manicure in a manner that was somehow more menacing than brandishing a sword. “Also, I merely provided transportation. But I do find it excessively rude, Reverend, that you’ve charged in here without announcement and haven’t even introduced your friend.”
The vicar scowled. Then without warning, he smiled. “Oh, you wish to know who this most excellent young man is?”
“I wait on tenterhooks,” said Jasper.
The young blond man stepped forward and bowed. “Mr. Micah Ambrose, Your Graces. New curate at St. Mary’s in Charlton Kings…and Miss Blair’s fiancé.”
What the bloody goddamned hell?
Jasper stared in utter disbelief. “Fiancé?”
Reverend Blair chuckled. “Oh yes, it is all arranged. I did say Ada was not for the likes of you, did I not? She’ll wed an upright man, a godly man, and be most content.”
Lavinia stood, her fists clenching. “And what are the young lady’s wishes in the matter?”
Both the unwanted visitors looked at her, obviously startled, as though it hadn’t even occurred to them Ada might have wishes.
“My daughter wants to wed,” said the vicar impatiently. “I found her an appropriate husband who will fit in just so at the vicarage. I’m not sure why any of this is the business of the aristocracy.”
Jasper tilted his head. “Let us find Ada and hear her opinion. At once.”
Her father had often made it clear that women disappointed him. Her not being a son. Mama dying before producing a son to follow in his footsteps. But she had thoroughly underestimated what he would do to keep a housekeeper for the lowest expense: arrange her marriage to a stranger and storm the estate of a duke.
Ada continued to pace the ridiculously large and lavish gold parlor, not wanting to be at a disadvantage when her father and Mr. Ambrose burst through the door, as they no doubt would very shortly. Not even burly footmen would halt Reverend Ernest Blair in high dudgeon, and he had been furious at her temporary escape. Poor Jasper. Thanks to her, a circus had indeed invaded his home. Thankfully, she’d had time to explain the situation to Ruth and Martha, so they were prepared for the arrival of vicar and curate and had offered her their spare bedchamber to stay in if need be.
“I really think you should start drinking, my dear,” said Martha, from where she sat on an embroidered chaise next to Ruth. “Be easier on your nerves. And this brandy is top notch.”
Gracious, the thought was tempting. Either that or dumping the entire decanter on her father’s head. She might be nearly thirty, without fortune or property, but she had friends, blast it all. More to the point, she knew what love was, and would not be marrying without it.
“Ada.”
Jasper’s brusque voice carried from the parlor door, and she sighed in relief at his comforting presence, although at this moment he looked understandably irritated, trailed as he was by her father and Mr. Ambrose. The duchess merely smiled and waggled her fingers as she took a seat near Ruth and poured herself a tumbler of brandy from the half-empty decanter.
“Your Grace,” Ada replied, dipping into a curtsy. All she wanted to do was run to him, but he should be reward for toil, not her sword arm today. It was one thing to have a man who would stand toe to toe with her father, but she needed to do so as well. “Er…good afternoon.”
“Ada dear, would you like a brandy?” asked the duchess innocently, although the glint in her eyes said she understood the provocative nature of the question. The opening riposte.
Her father coughed. “She most certainly would not. That is a beverage suitable only for gentlemen.”
“I don’t believe,” said Ada slowly, “there is any such beverage. And yes I would, Your Grace.”
“Here you go,” said the duchess, pouring a small brandy and handing it to her.
Ernest’s indrawn breath was overloud in the sile
nce and his cheeks darkened to scarlet; a volcano ready to explode. But Ada deliberately held her father’s gaze and took a small sip, for she had to start as she meant to go on. Oooh, it burned. Thankfully she’d been sensible and sipped rather than gulped; otherwise she would be a spluttering, red-eyed mess, and that certainly wasn’t in keeping with the bold character she wished to portray. “Ah. Much better.”
Jasper’s lips twitched. “I might have one also, Mother.”
“It’s not even one o’clock in the afternoon!” burst out Mr. Ambrose.
“A talking clock,” said Ruth. “How modern.”
Ada looked away briefly, lest she give in to a very inappropriate giggle. Her entire life, she had feared her father and his bullish demands, his insistence on obedience, and complete lack of care for her wishes. And yet today, surrounded by others who truly valued her, he seemed…smaller. A man who could be defeated.
“I am not a talking clock,” said the curate, “but I am Miss Blair’s fiancé, and I do not approve of this nonsense. We should be on our way.”
Ada glanced at Jasper. The tiny inclination of his head, the warmth in his eyes, and the slight weight of his gift dangling from her wrist gave her the last little boost of confidence she needed to say, “Mr. Ambrose, you are not my fiancé.”
The young man gaped at her. “But…”
“What are you prattling about, Ada?” snapped her father. “It’s all arranged. You agreed.”
Fury bubbled, and she clenched her fists. But she couldn’t hold it inside anymore. No amount of beating a dusty rug or chopping a vegetable with great severity would calm this storm. Thirty years of frustration and resentment, of sorrow and grief, of constant oppression to cater to the whims of one man was about to unleash in a torrent of emotion.
“I most certainly did not agree. You decided, just as you always do, with no care for my thoughts or wishes. I do not love Mr. Ambrose. I don’t even know him. But because it suited your plans, you went ahead and offered me up like a fat sheep at the Cheltenham fair, despite the fact that you do not own me. Despite the fact that I am not fresh from the schoolroom, but a woman grown. And I say no. No. There is only one man I love, and that is Jasper Muir, Duke of Gilroy.”
Duke I’d Like to F… Page 19