by Meara Platt
“Is that a question?”
She sighed. “Why haven’t you taken a wife?”
“None of your business.”
“I know it is none of my business, but you said I could ask and I did warn you that my questions were personal. Are you holding out for love?” She hoped that she hadn’t sounded too starry-eyed and breathless. She was merely asking out of curiosity, not out of any design for herself. “I hope you do.”
His brow was still arched in that handsomely dangerous way, but his expression seemed to soften. “That is also none of your business, Miss Pertwee.”
“I know. But I hope you do hold out for it. I think you would be a man much improved by love.”
He gave a short bark of laughter. “I think you’ve just insulted me.”
“I didn’t mean to. You are surly and abrupt, surely you know that. And there’s something quite forbidding in your aspect. Most people are afraid of you. It has nothing to do with your wealth or title. I think they’d be afraid of you even if you were a scholar or a fisherman. You have an air of danger about you. An aura of lethal power, just like your ancestor, the Serpent.”
“What about you, Miss Pertwee. Will you hold out for love?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I’m a common chough, don’t forget. When I mate, it must be for life. I never stray far from my nest. However, I must find a new nest rather soon. My father’s new wife has taken over ours and I am only in the way. She has every right to it, of course. She and my father are very happy.” She shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know how to go about falling in love. And who would love a common chough?”
He set her down on the front steps of his home and stared down at her. “There is nothing common about you, Prudence. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
His butler must have noticed their approach and opened the door just then. “Your Grace, is the young lady hurt?”
The duke nodded. “Yes, Bigbury. But not too badly. Summon Colliers. Have him bring my carriage around.”
“At once, Your Grace.” His butler hurried off to call for his coachman, leaving them alone once more.
The duke planted his booted foot beside her on the step and leaned forward to speak to her. “Are you thirsty? Too warm outdoors? I can carry you inside if you prefer.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You would admit me into your home?”
“You mean my serpent’s lair?” His grin was surprisingly appealing. She thought he didn’t like her. So why was he being unexpectedly polite? Perhaps she’d misjudged him. “I would admit you in only as far as my drawing room. And reluctantly so. I wouldn’t invite you in at all if you weren’t hurt. You are far too snoopy for my comfort.”
She shook her head and laughed. “Now that’s the duke I’ve come to know and dislike. Although I must admit, I don’t dislike you nearly as much as I thought I would.”
“Was that a compliment or an insult?”
“A little of both, I think.” She cast him an apologetic smile. “Have you had your fill of me yet? May I ask more questions? Because one thing puzzles me greatly.”
“And what is that?”
“Why are you so overset about our bird watching? It is harmless fun and also serves a useful purpose. We’re very careful not to damage your property.” She noticed him stiffen and realized she must have touched upon a sensitive matter. But why was he suddenly so tense?
He refused to answer.
Although he’d allowed her to ask her questions, he hadn’t responded to a single one.
“Ah, here comes Colliers with the carriage.” He opened the door once the carriage had rolled to a stop in front of them, and then carefully lifted her onto the soft, black leather seat.
It truly was the finest carriage she’d ever seen. She admired everything about it, including the ducal crest, a black serpent upon a field of gold, that was emblazoned on the shining black door. The serpent’s body was coiled and its head was upraised, as though about to strike with lethal force.
The duke climbed in after her and settled his large frame on the seat opposite hers. She could envision this man as a battle-hardened, medieval warrior. Despite his rank and fashionable upbringing, there was nothing soft about this Duke of Pembroke.
If he or his loved ones were ever threatened, this man would go in for the kill.
“Your Grace–”
“No more questions, Miss Pertwee.”
“Very well, but won’t you please call me Prudence? You called me that a few moments ago and I rather liked it. I don’t wish us to be enemies. I know we shall never be dear friends, but we can be friendly acquaintances, can’t we?”
He cast her an intense look that suggested they would never be friends or even friendly acquaintances. But it wasn’t an angry look that one would give an enemy. It was a hot look, perhaps smoldering. And now he appeared irritated. She sighed. She couldn’t make out what that look meant.
“You’d better keep off that foot for several days,” he muttered. “I would recommend at least a week to give the sprain time to mend.”
He was right, but a week under the same roof as Eleanora Crompton Pertwee, her overly protective stepmother, would be insufferable. Eleanora would be in her glory, fluffing up Prudence’s pillows, feeding her porridge as though she were an infant and incapable of feeding herself, constantly fussing and fretting over her. And there would be no escape. She couldn’t run off on an injured foot.
Anyway, where would she go?
Eleanora wasn’t to blame. It wasn’t her fault that she exuded warmth and hospitality. She would have been a good mother to her children, only she’d never had any. She and her first husband, Thomas Crompton, were never blessed with any. She was too old now to bear children, so all those maternal efforts were trained on Prudence.
“Are you listening to me, Miss Pertwee?”
“Yes, I’ve heard your every word.”
He cast her a wry grin, a most appealing grin that caused her heart to flutter. “I wasn’t certain. Sometimes I think your birds pay me more heed than you do.”
Prudence knew she was far too independent. It was a quality frowned upon in a wife. But she longed to do something important, to be someone important and admired by others just as her own mother had been.
Since university was out of the question for females, she’d studied on her own and taken it upon herself to research birds of the area in the hope of turning her findings into a book someday. She hoped it would be of merit to the birdwatching community. In any event, she enjoyed getting up early to study the varieties that nested among the nearby cliffs.
She would often lose herself for hours in her explorations, returning home shortly before sundown because it wasn’t safe to walk those cliffs at night. The routine suited her and Eleanora very well.
But she was hobbled now and couldn’t move around. Perhaps her friend, Lucinda, would come over and they could spend these next few days sequestered in her father’s library to work on that book. They were neighbors and had been the very best of friends ever since they were infants in leading strings.
She would have done the same for Lucinda if ever the need arose.
The duke cleared his throat to regain her attention. “We’ve arrived, Miss Pertwee. Let me help you into your home.”
She wanted to refuse the duke’s offer, but couldn’t. Her ankle was badly swollen and hurt like blazes. She needed to wrap it in a cold cloth and elevate it. However, first she had to climb the few stairs into her house. She couldn’t manage even that without his assistance.
The duke lifted her into his divinely muscled arms and carried her inside. “Where shall I deposit you?”
Ah, the man was charming.
He made her feel like a milk bottle that needed to be set aside somewhere so that its contents wouldn’t curdle. “Our parlor will be fine. One of the maids will help me upstairs.”
She’d never been inside his home, but she knew that even if the walls were crumbling down around his bro
ad shoulders, his home would still be grander than hers. Her father was the local magistrate, and although he held a respectable position, his income was not nearly as respectable. They lived comfortably, but very simply.
Had her father been a less honest man, they would have been wealthy. He was constantly offered bribes that he turned down. Prudence was proud of him.
“Ah, there’s Molly,” she said as the Pertwee’s elderly housemaid lumbered by a few moments after the duke had set her down on the divan. Prudence called out to her. “I need a little help on the stairs, Molly. Will you be so kind as to assist me?”
“Of course, Miss Prudence.”
But the duke stopped Molly as she was about to do so. “I’ll carry her up to her bedchamber. Lead the way.”
Although it was scandalous for him to suggest such a thing, he went up a notch in Prudence’s estimation. Molly was old and frail, barely able to manage the stairs on her own, much less help Prudence climb up them. In all likelihood, they would have both taken a bad tumble, landing in a messy heap at the duke’s feet.
Eleanora bustled in before the duke had the chance to lift her back into his arms. “Your Grace! This is an honor. To what do we owe…” She noticed Prudence’s swollen foot. “Oh, dear. What happened to the poor child?”
Child?
When she was almost on the verge of becoming an old maid?
“She slipped on a rock while trespassing on my property.”
Eleanora gave a nervous, twittering laugh. “Ah, bird watching again. She won’t be scampering up there any more. I’ll see to it, Your Grace. You won’t be bothered any longer by Prudence. No, indeed. May I offer you refreshments?”
The duke shook his head. “No. I’ll leave her to your capable care. She’ll need help up the stairs. Good day, ladies.”
Eleanora began to fuss over her the moment the duke was out the door. “Oh, Pru! You were up there again? The duke warned you to stay away, but do you ever listen to anyone? You might have been killed.”
“But I wasn’t. I merely twisted my ankle, and I wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t distracted me with his idiotic demands.”
“I shall have to tell your father about this. He’s probably heard it already from the local gossips. How will you ever catch a husband if your heart is always with those birds? And what of the duke?”
Prudence gazed at her in confusion. “What about him?”
“He did not look at all pleased. I suppose you insulted him.”
Heat rose in Prudence’s cheeks. “I suppose I did. But I didn’t mean to. He’s just so arrogant and full of himself. Just because he’s a duke doesn’t mean he knows anything about anything. He certainly doesn’t know a thing about birds or understand how important they are to the balance of nature.”
Eleanora sighed. “He doesn’t have to. He’s a handsome and wealthy duke.”
Prudence rolled her eyes. “There’s that blighted word again. Duke. Any dullard can be a duke, it’s just a matter of parentage and luck of one’s birth order. He isn’t a divine being who descended from the heavens on a magnificent, golden chariot. He doesn’t belch pearls. No celestial light emanates around him whenever he speaks. He leaves no trail of rose petals wherever he walks. The man is rude. He’s always scowling at me. He… oh, dear. He’s back.”
“What?” Eleanora turned to follow her gaze.
The duke stepped through the parlor doorway, dominating the room as he stood before them in all his powerful glory. His gaze was lethally calm. His quiet fury scared the wits out of Prudence, but she refused to show it.
Her stepmother was noticeably trembling. “I think I need my smelling salts,” she said, obviously wishing to flee the room, but the duke looked angry enough to snort flames as he stood with his arms folded across his chest, blocking the doorway. Eleanora looked like she wanted to dig a big hole in the parlor and hide herself in it.
“Miss Pertwee, do you always speak so disrespectfully of others when their backs are turned?” His frown deepened and he flexed his shoulders, which made him appear as big and breathtakingly muscular as a fierce medieval warrior. She’d seen a portrait of his ancestor, the Serpent. The current duke looked twice as daunting.
“Never. I am always polite except with you. You’re the only one who’s given me cause.”
Eleanora gasped. “Prudence!”
“Well, he has Eleanora.” Prudence returned his steady gaze. How much had he heard? Everything? Drat, she would have curbed her tongue had she noticed him standing there. He ought to have climbed in his carriage and been well on his way to Pembroke Hall by now. What was he doing back here? Oh, well. He hated her for life now, so it didn’t much matter what else she said to him. “Will you dare deny that you are always scowling at me? I would show you proper respect if you were ever respectful to me. But you’re not.”
Eleanora gasped again. “Prudence! Enough!”
“Kindly leave us, Mrs. Pertwee. I wish to have a private word with your stepdaughter.”
Prudence curled her hands into fists to brace herself for the blistering set down she was about to receive from him. Perhaps she ought to go on the offensive instead. She wasn’t the sort to cower in fear. Anyway, he was already livid. How much angrier could he get? “Why did you come back in, Your Grace? I thought you’d left.”
“Obviously.” He unfolded his arms and held out his hand to show her the object held in his outstretched palm. Her spyglass. “I came to return this. You left it in my carriage.”
The impertinence drained from her.
In truth, he’d been patient and attentive to her today. He’d saved her from a nasty fall off that outcropping and taken the time out of his busy schedule to bring her home in his best carriage, no less. She’d returned his generosity with a spate of insults. “Thank you.” She groaned lightly as she reached out to take the offered spyglass. “Sincerely, thank you. You needn’t berate me. No need. I feel very much ashamed for the way I’ve treated you today.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Just today?”
“No. For the past three weeks as well. Do you mind if I remove my boot? You unlaced it earlier, but my foot has swollen to twice its size and is quite painful.” It was the truth. She wasn’t merely trying to gain his pity, although it couldn’t hurt to gain a little sympathy for her plight.
“Let me do it.” He surprised her by bending on one knee before her and very gently easing it off her foot. He set it aside and then took the seat beside her. “Perhaps I have been a little abrupt with you lately.”
“A little?” She cast him a wincing smile and shook her head. “Sorry. I’m doing it again. Do you think we might reach a compromise about our use of your land? You see, my friend Lucinda and I are studying the local avian population for a greater scientific purpose. If a man came to you and asked for access to your promontory for his scholarly research purposes, you’d grant it to him. I’m only asking that you show me the same courtesy.”
He leaned forward, the muscles of his arms tensing as he did so. “What makes you think I would show him any courtesy?”
His silvery gaze was upon her. She ought to have been quaking in her boots, but all she wanted to do was reach out and trace her fingers along the rugged contours of his face. What she really wanted to do was put her lips to his because she was achingly curious to kiss him. She did not understand why she felt this way, but there was no denying that he was handsome or that he made her body tingle.
It was the oddest sensation, but a nice one.
He was still looking at her, as though awaiting an answer. Goodness! His brooding eyes had a sensual, downward slant to them. Did all serpents have such sensual eyes? That explained why all the girls grew giddy around him. She was no exception, and that was most disappointing. She wished to be unique. Apparently, she wasn’t. She swallowed hard. “Wouldn’t you give more courtesy to a man?”
“No. I don’t want anyone up there. It’s too dangerous. The rocks are loose.” He glanced at her swollen foot. “A
s you found out this morning.”
She sighed. “Very well, we shall hunt for another location. But yours is the best. I’ll–”
“You’ll do no such thing,” he interjected. “I don’t want you anywhere near those cliffs or the surrounding beaches.”
Her eyes narrowed as she returned his stare. “Now I’m not permitted anywhere near the coast? That’s nonsensical. What is going on, Your Grace? This has nothing to do with me or my birds, has it?”
“Miss Pertwee, let me be clear about this. If I find you anywhere near those cliffs again, I shall have the magistrate lock you up.”
She rolled her eyes. “You do know that the magistrate is my father, don’t you?”
He groaned. “Must you always be so difficult?”
“I don’t try to be. I think I am being quite reasonable. Let’s try another approach, shall we? Instead of arguing over where I cannot go, let’s agree upon where I can go on your property to watch the birds.” She cast him a gracious smile that she hoped did not look forced.
He rose to his full, imposing height, once more folding his arms across his chest. He frowned down at her. “Nowhere, Miss Pertwee. If I catch you anywhere on my property again, I shall toss you into my dungeon. No magistrate, whatever his relation to you, will ever get you out.”
“Pembroke Hall has a dungeon?”
His look was hot and intense and melted her bones instead of frightening her, as she knew he was trying to do. “I shall build one just for you.”
“I suppose it shall have dank, slimy walls. Thick iron chains. Big, ugly rats to scamper at my feet.” She ought to be scared, but smiled at him instead.
She knew she should be scared.
But the man had held her protectively in his arms for a solid ten minutes while carrying her back to his grand home. Ten minutes in his arms and her body had yet to recover from the shockingly pleasurable experience. She hadn’t just been in his arms. She’d felt his every movement and the steady beat of his heart within his solid chest. She’d inhaled his divine, sandalwood scent. She’d cuddled against his big body, absorbing the masculine heat that radiated off him. The touch of his hands was like a hot caress upon her skin, even through her layers of clothing.