Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  "We had some family business to settle," Miranda said. She hoped the note of finality in her voice would dissuade them both from further questions.

  "That doesn't matter." Jack grinned. "The important thing is that Miranda is just the thing to banish the boredom of being stuck here in the country."

  "It is so mean of Devonwood to refuse you rooms in London," the duchess murmured. "But don’t worry. I shall prevail in the end."

  "Yes, of course you will, Mother. No one can doubt it. In the meantime, do say that Miranda can stay for dinner."

  The duchess's blue eyes rested on Miranda. "Dinner, Jack? I read your horoscope at breakfast, and today is not a good day for you to embark on new experiences."

  "Don't start in on that, Mother," he begged. "We're not going sky diving."

  "Don't you suppose Devonwood would invite them if he wished to do so? Today is an auspicious day for his life to take a new turn."

  "There you go, Mother." Jack wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed affectionately. "Today's the day we're going to refute the stars."

  "Now, Jack, you know you can't do that." But the hug had achieved its intent. The duchess's face softened with love.

  Miranda saw her opening and grabbed it. The duchess would do anything for her son, and might do what she could to annoy the duke.

  "I fear you are right, ma'am," she said. "We are not on good terms with the duke at this moment. He probably would not be pleased to see us at his table."

  "Not on good terms, you say?" The duchess's eyes took on a speculative gleam. "And what part of his family could you belong to? He does not have an abundance of relatives."

  "We're here on family matters relating to an American branch," Miranda said firmly. That was certainly true, if misleading.

  The duchess smiled. "I should not wish to inconvenience the duke." When anyone could see that's exactly what she wished to do.

  "He's tied up in the business office today," Jack said. "Maybe he won't even appear for dinner."

  His mother sighed. "I'm sure I don't wish to upset the plans of any of my children. Jack, you must do exactly as you like."

  "Thank you, Mother." Jack turned to Miranda. "We dine at eight o'clock. Of course, you'll have to stay overnight. Mrs. Wilkins will show you to a room when she returns."

  Chapter 6

  Miranda had a few hours to wait until dinner, which gave her more time than she wanted to feel guilty. Sharmie might have to miss dinner to continue the charade that she was ill. Miranda didn't want to be packed off until she'd figured out some way to convince the duke to agree to her terms.

  The housekeeper had returned to the foyer after seeing Sharmie settled, and offered to show Miranda to a room. Somehow, Mrs. Wilkins apparently had acquired the knowledge that the Foxgloves were staying for dinner.

  "This is the Lily Room," Mrs. Wilkins announced, opening the door with a flourish. Like everything else in the mansion that Miranda had seen, the Lily Room was furnished exquisitely in a polished manner. There were no cute lily motifs, but the warm coral and yellow scheme had a touch of girlishness about it.

  "I'll send a footman up with your luggage," Mrs. Wilkins said before departing.

  As soon as the housekeeper left, Miranda called Sharmie. "Are you awake?"

  "Feeling like a fraud," was the answer. "What are my next lines?"

  "We have a few hours until dinner. The housekeeper said I'm on a guest corridor. You must be nearby. Step into the hallway and I'll do the same."

  "What if we see someone?" Sharmie's tone betrayed her anxiety. Of course, she had the more difficult part, feigning sickness.

  "The family lives in a different wing. Don't worry."

  "I think I'll rest for an hour or so, and then we can meet."

  The footman appeared with her suitcase, and Miranda cast aside her worries and began to think about what she'd wear tonight. It seemed that her best bet for extending her stay was to charm Jack. If he were bored, he might be happy for a diversion, and it appeared he could get his mother to agree to anything.

  An hour later, after exchanging texts with Sharmie, Miranda ventured into the hallway. Three doors down, on the left, she saw her step-mother emerge. She waved at her. "You need to come to my room so I can decide what to wear tonight."

  "Should I go to dinner or not," Sharmie asked in a stage whisper as she walked down the hallway. "I'm not sure I'll want to go to bed without food."

  "Yes, of course you should come. How often do you get to dine in a ducal palace? No one will pay attention to what you're eating."

  She tugged Sharmie into her room. "This is the sexiest dress I brought." She hadn't been thinking of hot dukes and their younger brothers when she packed.

  "Which one are you trying to impress?" Sharmie eyed the gold dress.

  "I've decided to set up a flirtation with Jack so he'll invite us to stay and then we can work on the duke. In the meantime, I'll continue to annoy the duke, since it's so easy to do. Maybe he'll give in just to get rid of us."

  "That's your plan?" Sharmie shook her head.

  "For now. It's not much, I know, but I'll think of something else once we're settled here."

  "Settled here? We only have two weeks in England, and I want to see Pookie."

  "We're only going to stay long enough to get the money. You'll be able to see Pookie as soon as we're done here."

  Sharmie heaved a big sigh. "Maybe I should just give up this whole idea of paying for my own wedding."

  "No way," Miranda said fiercely. "You deserve it, and you're going to get it. Help me with this dress."

  Sharmie zipped her up and they both faced the mirror. "That dress is positively scandalous," Sharmie said with a giggle. "I have just the necklace you need."

  She returned in a few moments with an antique gold pendant on a roped chain. The length allowed the pendant to dangle right between Miranda's boobs.

  "Good Lord." Miranda stared in the wide, three-part antique mirror over the dressing table in her bedroom. "Could I be any more obvious?" The dress had narrow panels crossing under her breasts which cleverly supported and lifted each of her breasts into two delectable offerings which were only half-concealed by the low-cut sweetheart neckline. If a man happened to miss all that unsubtle messaging, the pendant nestling in her cleavage would correct that oversight in a hurry.

  "Perfection," Sharmie pronounced. "My maid happened to mention that Jack is twenty-four. Old enough to think himself a man of experience, young enough to be enraptured by flesh."

  "Ugh." Miranda groaned. "I feel like a pervert." Flirting was not the usual method she used to accomplish her goals. But all of her straightforward attempts to convince the duke had failed. She had to try something new.

  "Miranda!" Sharmie clasped her shoulders. "You don't have to do this. We can have a nice visit with Pookie, and then return to New York and pester the duke from afar."

  "No, I'm being silly." Miranda smiled in the mirror at her step-mother. "It may not be the best plan ever devised, but if I can get Jack to wrangle us an invitation to visit for awhile, who knows what opportunities we may discover to change the duke's mind? It will be too easy for him to ignore us if we scurry back to New York like scared rabbits." Personally, she was determined to thwart that cold and pompous duke. It was her own money she wanted to use and if she spent it on something he considered stupid, why did it matter? It wasn't like she was taking it out of his pocket.

  "If you're sure, dear."

  As she turned to leave, Miranda took one last look in the mirror. The burnished gold of the dress made her dark hair gleam. Her breasts offered themselves voluptuously, her legs were long and slender.

  She repressed a sigh. If only she were trying to tempt a man in whom she might be interested, rather than a callow youth she'd only be using. Unbidden, the cold face of the duke appeared in her mind. Expressionless. Controlled. But his intensity had a strange appeal. What would it be like to have that intense concentration focused on her?
r />   She banished his image. No woman with a brain believed a sexy dress and a nice rack would make a man like him lose his cool.

  She entered the enormous dining room with Sharmie precisely at eight o'clock.

  Several people were already seated at the long, sumptuously laid table. Bone china was flanked by sterling silver and gleaming crystal. It was hard to believe people ate like this for an ordinary meal. Three low bowls of artfully arranged flowers marched down the center of the pristine linen tablecloth. The gold walls, luscious ivory silk curtains, and twinkling lights provided the perfect background for the dark-haired duke as he rose to his feet at their entrance. Jack followed suit, his blonde hair flopping on his forehead. He smiled at Miranda.

  "Godfrey," the duke snapped, his gaze resting on a sulky teenaged boy with an untidy mop of dark hair. Miranda wasn't surprised when the boy shuffled to his feet.

  "I didn't realize we were having guests for dinner," Devon said.

  "I invited them," Jack answered, with a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I'm allowed to have friends, aren't I?"

  A servant led Sharmie to a chair at the duke's right, and escorted Miranda to a seat at Charlotte's right. Jack was to the right of Miranda, with a pretty young woman opposite her. The duke remained standing to offer introductions.

  "Mrs. Foxglove, may I present the Duchess of Devonwood, my step-mother, Charlotte." He nodded at the blonde woman at the end of the table. "Also," the duke continued, "my brothers Jack and Godfrey." He nodded to the blonde young man, and the mop-headed boy. "My sisters Daisy—" He gestured to a young girl sitting on his left, "—and Sarah." She was the pretty woman opposite Miranda.

  "Our guests this evening," he announced to the table at large, "are Sharmie Foxglove and her step-daughter, Miranda." With an abrupt nod, he took his seat.

  "I say." Jack spoke immediately. "That dress is smashing."

  "Thank you." Miranda felt almost naked with his gaze glued to her breasts. "I tried to be subdued since it's a family dinner."

  Someone snorted from the far end of the table. It could only have been the duke, but she successfully refrained from looking at him.

  "I love clothes," Sarah said. "I want to be a designer, but someone thinks that's a frivolous profession." She shot a dark look toward her step-brother, who merely nodded to the liveried servant who proffered a platter of crab cakes.

  "Where'd you get the dress?" Sarah continued, apparently used to being ignored.

  "This is from New York." No need to mention it was off the rack, and not a designer label like she was sure the ducal family was used to. "I'm so glad you like it." Miranda took a deep breath. She might as well begin as she meant to go on. Which meant she had to annoy the duke.

  With little to do this afternoon, she'd spent some time thinking about her situation. It wasn't likely she'd be able to change the duke's attitude. He seemed to be a confirmed crank, or maybe even a misogynist, though there was a certain look in his eyes that made that unlikely. The fact was, she didn't have the skill to charm a man like him, who must have women flocking to him, so she might as well annoy him in hopes that he'd give in on the money issue to get rid of her.

  "I find it surprising that anyone would object to the study of fashion," she said to the table at large. "After all, we all need clothes. One of the benefits of civilization is that we don't have to go around in animal pelts any longer, right?"

  "Exactly." Sarah beamed.

  "I don't know." Jack winked at Miranda. "An animal pelt on the right woman could be a great look."

  "Once I saw a lady with Devon," the little girl piped up, "and she wasn't wearing anything but a leopard blanket."

  Silence blanketed the table abruptly.

  "Daisy." The deep, cold tones could only come from the duke. "That tale can only be considered gossip. You may be excused from dinner."

  Daisy dropped her fork. Her startled face crumpled, and she didn't seem to know how to recover.

  Sarah sprang into action, jumping up and hurrying around the long table. She leaned over and put both hands on the little girl's shoulders. "Let's have a picnic in my room, okay? I bet we can get Cook to send up some macaroons." She pulled back the chair, held out her hand, and the two of them exited the room.

  "The crab cakes are delicious," Charlotte said in a bright voice. "Tell us, ladies, how was your trip from New York?"

  "Lovely." Miranda smiled with as much fake brilliance as Charlotte had. "If the errand that brings us here proceeds as smoothly as our trip has, we will be fortunate."

  "We don't discuss business at the dinner table," the duke said, in a detestable tone of authority mixed with boredom. Miranda wanted to hit him. Mostly because of the way he'd treated Daisy. But also because he could afford to be bored by something that was so important to her and Sharmie. And, she had to admit, she was annoyed because he was right to ban a discussion of their business at dinner, and she had a feeling he was right far too often.

  She turned slightly to look at Jack. "Do you live here year-round, or is this a summertime visit?"

  Jack flushed, his fair skin revealing his discomfiture. "This is my home," he mumbled.

  Was that a sore point? The fact that he lived at home?

  "Of course," she said lightly. Her goal was to enchant him, not embarrass him. "Who wouldn't want to live here?"

  "Well, s—see." Rushing into explanations, he stumbled over the words. "If I had an adequate allowance—"

  "Or a job," the duke interjected.

  Jack cast a frown down to the end of the table. "Everyone knows there are no jobs."

  "Nonsense," the duke snapped. "Any job is better than no job."

  "Easy for you to say!" Jack's voice sounded young and peevish juxtaposed against the duke's strong, deep tones. "You inherited your job!"

  "I inherited a title, yes," Devon said quietly. "And I think this is enough of this topic as well."

  Miranda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Tyrant much?

  But Sharmie was wiggling her eyebrows and staring and clearly trying to send a message. Miranda frowned. Until Sharmie tilted her head at Jack.

  Whoops. She was supposed to be flirting with Jack. She telegraphed her understanding and turned to look at Jack, her gaze passing over Devon on the way. Speculation narrowed his eyes and she realized that he'd seen the little interplay between her and Sharmie.

  Oh well, he wouldn't know what to make of it.

  She smiled at Jack. "What do you do for fun around here?"

  "Not much," he said gloomily.

  Okay, he wasn't a conversationalist.

  "Don't you English ride horses and hunt and…and…" She trailed off, racking her brain for other activities she'd heard about.

  "Devon does all that," Jack said through tight lips.

  "You're too modest, dear." His mother sent him a warning smile. "You know you're a splendid rider."

  "I would be if I had the right horse." Jack cast another scowl at the head of the table.

  Devon continued eating, working his way steadily through the delicious meal. A green salad topped with edible flowers had been replaced by a rack of lamb that was tender enough to practically swallow without chewing.

  "Jack, you mustn't tease Devonwood." Charlotte tittered like a new debutante. "We all know he's not interested in family."

  Miranda's head jerked up at the little barb. She almost blushed on behalf of the duke, but he didn't seem to care. Did he have any emotions?

  He continued to ignore them as she, Jack, and Charlotte carried on a tame conversation about the number of tourists descending on the village each day. Godfrey also remained silent, except on the rare occasion when his mother directed a question at him.

  Miranda was grateful for the easy conversation. It left room for part of her brain to be occupied with the question of how to change the duke's mind.

  It wasn't until Charlotte pushed back her chair, signaling the end of dinner, that the duke spoke to anyone. "Miranda," he said. "Please join
me for five minutes in the library."

  Though his tone was pleasant, she noted that his request was actually a command.

  "Now?" Surprise had short-circuited her brain. What did he want with her now? She had not yet formulated her plan of attack.

  "Yes, certainly." He lifted those dark brows. "Do you have another pressing engagement?"

  Jack thrust back his chair. "I thought I would take her to the pub in the village."

  Devon's gaze moved slowly to Jack. "That seems to be an outing that could wait for a few minutes."

  "Oh, y—yes, of course," Jack stammered.

  He looked exactly like an overgrown schoolboy, particularly in comparison with Devonwood. No wonder Jack was resentful. Perhaps he wasn't as accomplished as his older brother, but he wasn't stupid either. Despite his attractive face and body, he had a long way to go before he could project the same air of command and sophistication that came naturally to Devonwood.

  "Don't worry, Jack." Miranda smiled at him, more warmly than she would have if the duke hadn't been watching. "I won't be long. Unless Devonwood is ready to agree to our terms, he and I can't have much to say to each other."

  Devonwood's gaze flew to her face. "It's not wise to pull on the tiger's tail," he said softly.

  "Tiger. Pooh!" She tossed her head. "You flatter yourself."

  "And you undermine your own cause with these childish antics."

  Sharmie placed her hand on Miranda's arm as they both stood. "Do you want me to go with you?" she asked in a quiet voice.

  "No, I'm fine. You look tired." A twinge of alarm shot through Miranda at the sight of Sharmie's pale face. She never should have asked her to feign illness.

  "I think I will go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

  "Miranda, wait!" Sarah hurried into the room. "I wanted to talk to you. I need to show you what I'm working on and get your opinion." She frowned at the duke. "This is important."

  The duke dismissed her with a glance. "You and Jack can fight over her later, Sarah."

  Devon stopped at the doorway, indicating with a nod of his head that Miranda should precede him.