From France, with Love: League of Unweddable Gentlemen, Book 1

by Gill, Tamara

  She hoped it was so. Over the last fortnight when they’d been stabled across from each other the two horses had seemed to get along reasonably well, and had neighed once or twice over the stable door, or so the stable boy had informed her, all good signs for a promising union.

  “Very good of the duke to give you the approval for the breeding of Titan with Black Lace, Miss Ava. Even if they do not produce a champion, they’ll certainly produce pretty foals.”

  Ava chuckled, supposing that would be true. “And yet that isn’t quite what we’re hoping to achieve. I’d prefer a champion to a pretty horse.” Which wasn’t entirely true. Horses, no matter their age or ability would always have her heart. To her, they were truly the best animal on earth.

  “The duke mentioned yesterday that there was a break in at old Mr. Rogers’ farm, although nothing was stolen, there was evidence that someone tried to light a fire, but it never took. The Runner seems to think it’s connected to the fire-starter, but the local magistrate does not. Hard to know what is going on in these parts with all the trouble we’ve had.”

  Ava frowned, having not known that another neighbor of hers had been targeted. In fact, she’d not seen Tate at all yesterday. Why did he not call on her? She’d not seen him since they had stayed at the same inn on their way home from London.

  Terribly crass of her, but the day she’d excused herself from the dowager in the parlor, she’d dallied in the hall, listening to the duchess’ words. Scathing words really, derogatory in fact, and all about her and her unsuitableness as a duchess.

  The loathing she’d heard in her voice gave her little hope for friendship. The woman hated her common blood, and as Ava could do nothing about such things, there was little chance of a reconciliation.

  She had thought on the prospect of them during the carriage ride home, watching Tate who rode alongside the vehicle all the way back to her estate. Each time she looked at him her heart squeezed and there was little point denying what that reaction meant.

  It was the same that she’d known it when a young girl. She loved him. In all truthfulness, she’d never stopped loving him, no matter how angry she’d been.

  But that did not mean they were suitable. That the role of duchess was more important to the role she had here at Knight Stables.

  “The duke was here?” she asked, keeping her eye on the horses and feigning an uninterested air that was only skin deep.

  “Oh yes, Miss. Knight. Came over before luncheon but couldn’t stay as he was having luncheon with her grace and Lady Clapham over at the dower house.”

  “Of course.” Ava was quiet as Titan mounted Black Lace. The joining was short, with little fuss, but hopefully successful. “Very good, thank you gentlemen, for your assistance. Now we wait,” she said to the yard hands that stood around watching.

  “I had thought the duke said he would be here for this, but alas he’s been held up, I guess.” Greg said, watching the horses.

  Ava nodded having thought the same. After all the fuss he’d made about her not having Titan breed with one of her horses, she thought he would not have missed this.

  “You may have Titan returned to the ducal farm this afternoon. Their stables are now rebuilt and I know the duke would wish him stabled there. No need in keeping him here any longer.” Ava walked over to the stallion and ran her hand down his neck. “Even though he is such a handsome beast.” She cooed to the horse for a moment before letting the groom take him back to his stall to prepare him for his walk back to Tate’s estate.

  “Right you are, Miss. Knight. We’ll do that directly.”

  Ava stayed outdoors for the remainder of the afternoon, watching some of the fillies learn how to lunge in the lunging yard, viewing her two hopefuls for the Ascot races do time trails on the gallops before looking over the books for the feed and grain.

  She thought on Tate’s absence. They had been home two days now, and not a word from him. Was something amiss? Had his mother’s wicked tongue finally soured him against her? Ava leaned back in her chair, twisting the quill in her hand as she glanced out the window. Perhaps this was for the best. Their lives were so very different now, both of them had people relying on them, his as a duke and she as a horse breeder and trainer. Their social spheres could not be much further apart, even if one of her friends was a viscountess’ niece.

  Being home these two days had solidified her dislike of town. She’d missed the stables, of being around her horses, feeding them, simply watching them run about the yards or graze in the meadows. London life was not her forte and being a duchess, a woman of immaculate fashion sense and impeccable friends would not suit her. Why, all her friends from school were as common as she was, besides Willow of course.

  Ava sighed and throwing down her quill, stood and started back toward the house. Dinner would be served soon and she’d promised Hallie that she would attend this evening since last night she’d been held up in the lower holding yard after one of her mares had gone through a fence.

  Walking up the front drive, she moved out of the way as the rider who delivered mail cantered from the house, tipping his cap a little as he rode past. Entering the front hall her servant came out of her office, the silver salver in his hand. “Were you looking for me, William?” she asked.

  He bowed. “Yes, Miss. Knight. A missive from the dowager duchess of Whitstone just arrived. I’ve placed it on your desk.”

  “Thank you,” she said, going into her office and closing the door. She’d always loved this room, even when it was her father’s space and sanctuary. Now it was hers she’d decided not to change a thing about it. The dark mahogany desk, along with bookshelves that lined the walls and two leatherback chairs sat before the hearth ready for anyone to pick up a book, sit and read to their heart’s content.

  She broke the duchess’ seal and scanned the note. The more she read of the missive the more she could not believe the impudence of the woman. How dare she, but then how dare she not? Ava scrunched up the note in her hand and then re-opening it, scanned it for a second time, not believing what she was reading.

  Miss. Knight,

  I’m having a small ball at my dower house in coming weeks. I know we’ve had our disagreements in the past, and I do hope for the sake of our small county that we may become more agreeable to one another’s presence in time. But unfortunately that time is not now. I am therefore sending this missive as a courtesy, as a small explanation as to why you have not received an invitation. Please do not attend, even at the behest of my son. The dower home is my own and you will not be allowed entrance.

  Warmest regards,

  Duchess of Whitstone

  For a second time, she screwed up the missive the blood in her veins thumping loud in her ears. How dare the woman? A light knock sounded at the door and Hallie popped her head around the threshold. “Ah, I see you received one as well. I’m so glad that you have. Maybe the dowager has seen that the duke is in love with you and has finally come around to embrace you as a future daughter-in-law.”

  Ava slumped onto her chair wishing that were so. “No, nothing of the kind, I’m afraid. This is a missive from her grace, but it’s a letter telling me not to attend, that I won’t be allowed admittance.”

  “What!” Hallie came into the room, leaving the door ajar. She came over to the desk and snatched the missive from between Ava’s fingers, reading it quickly.

  “Oh, my, I knew the dowager was cold and cutting, but this is beyond offensive.” Hallie met Ava’s gaze. “I’m so sorry, Ava. She seems determined to drive a wedge between you and the duke.”

  That was an underestimation. “Yes, so it would seem.”

  “What are you going to do? Are you going to tell the duke about this?” she said, waving the note.

  Ava shook her head, sick of it all, tired of the constant barbs and bitter looks. The cuts direct in town and nasty notes delivered in the middle of the day. “No. He doesn’t need to know about this, it would only make things more awkward.”
<
br />   “But the duke loves you, I’m sure. He’s sent his mother to the dower house after all and she was living at Cleremore before.”

  That was true at least, but it did not change the fact that his mother hated her. A little voice whispered that perhaps their time had come and gone. That they should part now before any further damage to their hearts and families was done.

  “Did you receive an invitation?” Ava enquired.

  Hallie waved the piece of parchment that was in her other hand. “I did, but I will not attend if you’re not going. The dowager inviting me and not you is unreservedly rude and I shall not give her the pleasure of such a slight. We shall stay here together and forget about her grace and her schemes.”

  Her friend’s eyes sparkled with fire and Ava loved her for her loyalty. “You must attend, for if you do not she’ll think I had a hand in it. Restricting my friend’s outings. Go, enjoy yourself and mingle. Show the dowager duchess of Whitstone that we do not care who she does and does not invite.”

  “I cannot go without you. I do not care what the dowager will think. I shall stay at home and keep you company.”

  Ava smiled reaching for her friend’s hand. “You will attend, and you will enjoy yourself and tell me all about it when you return. I’m quite content to stay home and I promise you, what her grace does, does not affect me in the lightest. She’s interfered and been rude to me for as long as I have known her. She no longer has power over him and she loathes the thought.”

  Hallie sighed, seemingly unconvinced. “If you’re sure, but I do not feel easy over this.”

  “All will be well, Hallie. Do not concern yourself with me. I’ll be quite well at home.”

  A knock at the door sounded and her butler walked in, announcing the Duke of Whitstone.

  Ava stood, her body warming to the sight of him. She schooled her features, meeting Hallie’s startled gaze.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Hallie said, dipping into a curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some letters to write.”

  The door closed softly behind her friend and the duke strode over to her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly. She leaned into him, taking all that he would give, relishing his touch, each stroke, touch, kiss that he bestowed on her.

  He was impossible to ignore and had always been so.

  Tate pulled back, his eyes ablaze with unsated desire. “I’ve missed you.” He pulled her over to the hearth and seated them on the settee. “I’ve been meaning to call, and I wanted to come here today because we never managed a chance to finish the discussion we started in London.”

  Dread spiked through her and she sat up straight, folding her hands in her lap. “Our conversation,” she queried, stalling.

  He nodded. “About us.”

  “Oh,” she said, light-heartedly. “What about us?” The hope that flashed in his stormy gray eyes vanquished her hope that it was about anything but them. She wasn’t ready for this conversation or what his reaction would be to her words.

  He reached for her hand her own swallowed up by his strong capable ones. “You must know that from the moment I found out that you had not jilted me that all the hurt, the anger I carried with me vanished. I tried to move on from you, even as angry as I was, it did not work and I no longer wish to live without you.”

  Ava could not tear her attention from him. His words were a balm to her soul, and she wished she could give him all that he wanted, but she could not. Not because she did not love him, burn for him every moment of every day, but because of so many things that stood between them.

  She squeezed his hand, adjusting her seat. “You don’t have to live without me, Tate, but please don’t ask me to be your wife.” He flinched at her words and clasped his hand tighter. “Listen to me, please, before you say anything.”

  He watched her a moment, his eyes guarded. He nodded.

  Ava took a fortifying breath, licking her lips. “We were so young when we first fell in love. And it was love, of that I have little doubt. But, having lived abroad for four years, then coming home to run an estate with very little support other than from my staff, I’ve grown quite independent. I’m financially secure and do not need to marry if I do not wish to.” She kept her attention on him, hating the fact that he’d gone an awful shade of gray. “And I do not. To marry would mean the loss of my independence, to not do what I love, whenever I wish. I cannot become an ornament, a woman who talks nonsense and accomplishes little. It’s not who I am and having grown up, I know that now.”

  Tate stood, wrenching his hands free. “I want you to be my wife, Ava, my duchess. What are you asking to be?” His voice was hard, immovable and she cringed.

  “I would be your wife tomorrow, Tate, please know that, but I will not be your duchess. It is too much, I would be giving up everything.”

  “You would not have to give up your life.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, walking to stand before the fire. He leaned upon the marble mantel, his back to her. “Of course being a duchess comes with responsibilities. Situations that would take you away from here for several months of the year. Is that too much to ask? Are you not willing to give an inch to have me?”

  Ava stood, hating the desolated look in his eyes. “I want you, I do. I do not want anyone else. We can still have each other, but not as husband and wife. I will be your lover for as long as you’d want me.”

  He wrenched from her, disgust twisting his otherwise handsome visage. “I must marry. The family name alone requires me to try for an heir and I will not break my vows to the woman I marry. I will not do that to her, no matter how tempting you are.”

  Ava bit her lip, panic coursing through her blood. He stepped further away and she stilled. “I will not have you as my mistress. I will not have you at all if I cannot have you as my wife.”

  Tate turned and strode for the door. Ava ran after him, clutching at his arm. “Please Tate, I cannot lose you again. I simply want…”

  “You want it all,” he cut in, halting her words. “You want me to scratch your itch whenever it arises. You want to keep your independence and be mistress of your domain. You want me to break my marriage vows to keep your bed warm at night.”

  She paled, her heart twisting. “Your mother was right I’m not suitable to be your bride. My lineage will always be fodder for town gossip. Our children will be food for the vultures of the ton to rip apart and look down upon. I will be ridiculed, gossiped about and ignored. At least as mistress of Knight Stables I am treated with respect. If I became your duchess, all of that would change. They would look for you regarding my horses, the training we offer here. They would look to you for advice and guidance. I will become obsolete, what my family built from the ground up will be obsolete.” Ava raised her chin, anger straightening her spine. “I will not have it. Not even for you.”

  He glanced at her, his eyes void of warmth. “You are wrong, Ava and you are blind to what I can give you. As my wife, my name alone will protect all those that I love, even a woman whose lineage may not be as grand as some, but was grand enough for me.”

  For a long moment Ava stared at the door that Tate had stormed though, breathless at his declaration. He loved her? Never in all the time they’d been together had he uttered the words. She had silently hoped she was not alone in her affections and now she knew she was not. Ava walked to the window, watching as he rode off down her drive as if the devil himself was behind him.

  A cold shiver ran down her spine that perhaps she’d been wrong, had made a mistake, one that this time she would not be able to undo.

  Chapter 16

  A fortnight had passed and Tate had not seen Ava, or more truthfully he’d avoided her after their parting. He stared down at the whisky in his hand, reminding himself that no matter how many he imbibed, it would not make him feel any better, would not numb the hurt that coursed through his veins every minute of every day.

  She had rejected him.

  He clenched his jaw, looking up towar
d the door as the butler announced more of his mother’s guests at her ball, another useless, non-essential evening. He glanced about the room. The people laughed, drank, took more wine and food from the waiting servants. Useless beings all of them. Spoiled and entitled.

  Was it no wonder Ava did not want to be part of this life. He did not either.

  Tate stood beside Lord Duncannon, his friend as quiet as he, and thankfully not trying to fill the silence between them. He did not wish to speak as it was, not to anyone here at least.

  A rumble of chatter sounded and Tate again glanced toward the door. Hope surged through him as he recognized Miss. Evans. His eyes moved past her, searching for another set of dark russet eyes and hair to match and found her missing. He pushed away his disappointment, drinking down the amber liquid and watched as Miss. Evans bustled her way over to him, literally repositioning people who stood in her way.

  Miss. Evans came to stand before him and he spoke before she got a word in. “Where is Ava?” he demanded. The two women were very rarely apart at such gatherings, and so Ava should be here.

  “Dear God, I did not think I’d ever see you again.” Lord Duncannon gaped at Ava’s friend, his face paling.

  “Hoped would be a better word I think, Lord Duncannon,” Miss. Evans retorted, her eyes blazing with fire, but not before a flush stole over her cheeks leaving them a pretty shade of pink. “Or at least it was, in my case.” She turned her penetrating gaze toward Tate and he looked between the pair wondering how on earth they knew each other.

  He dismissed the thought a moment, needing to know where Ava was. “Is Miss. Knight here this evening, Miss. Evans?”

  “She did not receive an invitation, but I convinced her to come, Your Grace.” His attention shifted to his Mother at this declaration and anger spiked through him. This time she’d gone too far.

  Miss. Evans pursed her lips, inspected him like one inspected a bug and found it wanting. “I’m going to speak plainly and forgive me if I overstep my bounds, but Ava is my friend and I need to say what I must.”