The Last Duke (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)
Page 26
“The next blacksmith is miles from here. It would take you the rest of the day to get there, and there is no way he’d finish your order in time for the party.”
Ah. So, he’d approached not for the pleasure of her company but to rescue the blacksmith.
She was not surprised at all by that. Though she thought Asher dull, she couldn’t claim him to be anything but a good man. She knew he was protective of his family from what Brinley and Beatrix told her. Even now, he stood in the blacksmith’s shop because Brinley had clearly needed assistance.
Another lord would have sent a servant. Asher had come himself.
Because he cared?
She didn’t know. Perhaps, this had everything to do with duty and nothing more.
“Forgive Mr. Goodman and pay him what he’s owed,” Asher urged.
“What he’s owed?” She turned to him then. “What about what I’m owed?”
“And what are you owed?” he asked, giving her his focused and undivided attention.
Everly found herself upset at his unruffled nature. As usual, there was an eternal calm air about the great Duke of Ayers. Looking into his blue gaze reminded her of the tranquil waters of the Mediterranean Sea.
Tranquil and picturesque.
She lost her train of thought.
He was not the most handsome man she knew. In fact, of the three Curbain men, Lore was the charmer. Then Hero.
Still, there was something about the duke that always led Everly to believe that had he been any other man, Asher would have been a very dangerous rake.
It was his eyes and the way he looked at her, as though he could see past her skin and to the heart of a woman, knowing exactly what would please her most.
But that man was not Asher, Everly reminded herself. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never so much as taken a mistress… unless, of course, he was being very discreet.
How honorable.
Diana and Abigail were right.
There was a regalness about him.
His face was almost too masculine. His strong nose was a remnant of the Roman blood that pumped through his veins along with his hard mouth and the waves of golden locks that she knew were hidden under his hat. Years ago, he’d smiled often, but not anymore.
Why had he not remarried? It was as fine a question as any. Though Asher was far from the sort of man who drew Everly, he was perfect for others.
“My lady?” Asher asked.
Everly took an even breath. “Respect. I deserve respect, as does Brinley.”
“You may have forgotten,” he began. “But it was just last autumn that a certain lady made a very large purchase in this town. The money, as it would happen, didn’t belong to her.”
Everly recognized the story immediately.
The lady in question had been Brinley’s sister, Lady Arabella, who’d stolen a great sum from Brinley in order to buy her husband a phaeton with beautiful black horses. Everything had been trimmed with gold and sold once again when the truth came out.
Arabella and Brinley had since become friends once more, but it appeared the town had not forgotten that particular incident.
It lowered Everly’s anger a little. “One never stops a man from spending stolen coin. It’s still not fair.”
“You are correct,” Asher said, surprising her with his agreement.
They rarely spoke. Sometimes, Everly believed him to be avoiding her, but then she thought that silly. Nothing scared the Duke of Ayers.
“However,” Asher went on. “There is no reason to make Mr. Goodman your enemy, is there? He has apologized, has he not?”
“But did he mean it?” she asked.
“Must you always ride in the Calvary?” he asked. “There is no war to be had here.”
“But there is.” How could he not see it? It was because he was a man, a duke, one of the most powerful men in London. He didn’t know what it was to depend on someone else for everything.
She swallowed as she thought about her father.
Never had there been a harder dictator than he.
Asher gaze became hooded in an almost exasperating way, but he said nothing.
The room felt hot to Everly suddenly. She needed air.
She turned to Mr. Goodman. “I’ll expect my order on time.”
Mr. Goodman’s smile split his face. “Yes, my lady.”
“Your Grace.” She bobbed a curtsey before stepping out the door.
She’d barely crossed the threshold when Diana arrived. “Everly! I thought I saw you slip into the blacksmith’s shop, but I wasn’t sure.” She looked past her at Asher. “Your Grace. You will come to the masquerade, won’t you?”
“Diana,” Everly said. “I already told you that His Grace doesn’t attend such events.”
“I will be there.”
Asher’s words made Everly gasp.
She turned to him and looked him in the eyes. “And exactly what do you plan to dress as?”
Asher’s expression was unchanged. “I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see like everyone else. Won’t you?”
See how Asher and Everly’s story unfolds.
Get the story HERE.
Book List Order
Also by DEBORAH WILSON
∫ ∫ ∫
VALIANT LOVE SERIES
Book 1 - The Perfect Lady
Book 2 - The Perfect Gentleman
Book 3 - The Perfect Duke
Book 4 - The Last Duke
∫ ∫ ∫
STANDALONE NOVELLA
The Lady's Masquerade
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Copyright and Disclaimer
Copyright © 2018 by Deborah Wilson - All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are either the product of author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this book in any form or by any electronic means without written permission from the author. Recording of this book is strictly prohibited. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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