Cocky Duke

by Anders, Annabelle

  “I take it Mr. Daniels is your brother-in-law’s employee then?” He frowned.

  “Oh, yes. He’s on loan. Milford conceded that it wouldn’t look proper for me to travel alone in the mail coach.”

  Mr. Bateman was nodding, as if her answer explained a great deal to him.

  “And the carriage?”

  “Milford’s as well. They’ll return to Rockford Beach once they’ve delivered me. Mr. Moyers assured me that the townhouse was staffed, and he said he was fairly certain a driver was part of the household .”

  “Fairly certain, Princesse?”

  “Relatively certain.” Although Mr. Bateman had now planted a seed of doubt in her mind. And she didn’t wish to have any worries at the moment. Especially when there was nothing she could do until she arrived and knew the exact details of her new circumstances.

  “Are you excited, about your party?” Aubrey wanted to know more about him. “Will your sister be there?”

  His lips curved into a sad sort of smile. “Not really. And no, it’s going to be a rather small affair.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why did you marry him? You obviously didn’t love him. Every time I imagine some old geezer…” But then he shook his head. “Why not wait for a proper husband, Princesse? Did you not dream of romance, of love?”

  Every time he called her that, he made her feel as though she was special to him in some way. But that was an illusion. “My name is Ambrosia. You may call me Aubrey, if you’d like.” She ought not invite the intimacy, but it could hardly be less intimate for him to be calling her princess. And although she appreciated the independence garnered through widowhood, she wished she could cast off Harrison’s name as easily as she’d cast off her blacks.

  “Ambrosia. Princesse Ambrosia.” Heat flushed up her neck and into her cheeks upon hearing her name upon his lips. “How old were you, when you married?”

  “Seven and ten.” It seemed a lifetime ago. “My father died, leaving Mother and me quite alone and quite penniless. Mr. Bloomington was a second cousin to my father and also my father’s heir. If I married him, he promised my mother, she could remain living in our home.”

  “You have no sisters either, then?”

  “No. It was just Mother and me.” She remembered the days leading up to her wedding. “I was happy to do it for her. But for some reason, I believed that I’d be allowed to remain in my own home. I was hopelessly naïve. After the wedding. I did not imagine that he would want to…” She swallowed hard.

  “And this Milton fellow, your brother-in-law, is he going to allow your mother to remain in her home now?”

  “Mother passed three years ago.” Aubrey blinked away tears. She didn’t speak of her mother often and to be telling this man about her, for some reason, brought up all those old emotions.

  “Ah, I’m sorry Princesse. That must have been a difficult time for you.” The sympathy in his voice was nearly her undoing. Aubrey wiped at her eyes and nodded.

  “She was in pain for quite some time. I only wish I’d been allowed to be with her in the end…Mr. Bloomington insisted I remain at home and allow the ladies from the church to sit with her instead. He’d said he didn’t want his wife exposed to death. I was too delicate, he’d said.”

  She’d been a fool not to fight him at the time.

  “Dear Old Harrison, God rest his soul, was an ass.” At Mr. Bateman’s words, Aubrey couldn’t help but laugh in agreement.

  “God rest his soul,” Aubrey grinned impishly. Milton and Winifred had only ever spoken of her late husband reverently. Mr. Bateman’s blatant lack of reverence was freeing.

  She sobered. “In the end, Mother died in her own bed. She never had to leave our home.” Aubrey took great comfort in that her sacrifice had not been for naught.

  Mr. Bateman’s expression seemed almost pitying, so Aubrey forced a smile and flicked a glance at her newfound pet. “I do believe he needs a distinguished name, don’t you think, if he’s to become a member of the ton?”

  The dog was sitting on the seat beside her, eyes alert and watching out the windows but with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. “Why do you think he does that with his tongue?”

  Mr. Bateman leaned forward and pulled up the animal’s lips. “He hasn’t any teeth.” When he sat back, he shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Are you certain you want to keep him, Princesse? I’m not sure how he’ll eat without any teeth.”

  “Oh yes.” If anything, his handicap only increased her determination to care for him. “I’ll try soaking his food in milk.”

  “You’re going to spoil him.”

  “But of course! Doesn’t everyone deserve to be spoiled at some point in their life?” Aubrey had arranged her coat so as to keep the animal warm.

  When turned forward again she caught Mr. Bateman studying her—with that baffled, curious, and somewhat… heated glance that made her squirm.

  “What?” She asked, wondering if she had mud on her face.

  “I think you deserve to be spoiled.” His voice as much as his words sent heat spiraling into her belly. And butterflies. Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach and then took flight into all of her limbs.

  Aubrey forced herself to breath normally, glancing at Mr. Dog in an attempt to return to normalcy. “I do hope no one is missing him dreadfully.”

  Mr. Bateman nodded.

  “You are missing Guinevere? You are worried about him?”

  He sent her a sad look. “She has been a loyal companion.”

  “You will locate her after your birthday party.” She spoke with confidence. Somehow, she couldn’t see Mr. Bateman not achieving any goal he set out to achieve. She knew so little about this man, though. “What do you do, Mr. Bateman? Where is your home?”

  He hesitated a moment before answering, as though weighing what he should tell her. She wished he had blurted something out without thinking. Moments such as this, he was too mysterious for her comfort.

  “My estate is near the small hamlet of Trequin Bay.”

  “I’ve not heard of it.” Aubrey clamped her lips shut in hopes that he would expand on his answer.

  “I’ve lived most of my life on the Atlantic coast of north Cornwall.” By the look in his eyes, she could see that he loved it there. She could easily picture him riding Guinevere along a sandy beach with cliffs looming on one side, ocean waves crashing on the other. Guinevere’s mane would lift up in the wind as Mr. Bateman road the powerful animal effortlessly.

  “That is where your mother and father settled, after leaving France?”

  He nodded and the sun shining through the windows showed a few tiny wrinkles at the corners of his, oh, so lovely eyes. She would not press him to discuss memories if they might have been unhappy ones… not knowing that he’d eventually gone to war against a country that had once been his homeland.

  He laughed a great deal at life in general, but he also seemed to be hiding something. Was he hiding sorrow?

  “You wish to host salons in your future home, Princesse. Are you talented at any of the arts, yourself? Which of them is your favorite?” He changed the subject easily.

  “Oh, I have no talent myself, but I love them all,” Aubrey admitted without any shame. “One of Mr. Bloomington’s neighbors, Mrs. Mary Tuttle, possesses the most wonderful library.” She bit her lip, wondering how much she ought to admit to this man who she barely knew, realizing that once again he had her talking about herself. And yet she continued…

  “I led my late husband to believe that the two of us, Mrs. Tuttle and I, were reading from the Bible, but instead we were looking at books about art, and even reading some mythology and modern fiction. I’d already read the scriptures he assigned me hundreds of times, you see—“

  “No need to explain yourself to me, Princesse. And so, you developed your thirst for writings beyond that of King James?”

  Aubrey nodded with a grimace. “I did. Mrs. Tuttle is the most interesting person. Before moving to Rockford Beach, sh
e lived in London and she told me all about the salons that she once hosted. I could not help think that it would be the most wonderful thing in the world for a recently widowed woman to pursue as her purpose, for a woman who did not plan to marry, nor had any children or family.”

  “It is a worthy endeavor.”

  This was something she was coming to quite appreciate in regard to Mr. Bateman. Although he’d laughed at her often, and just as often with her, in those things that mattered most to her, he afforded genuine consideration.

  He had not tried to persuade her to give up her dog and now he had expressed confidence in her future endeavor.

  “I… Thank you, Mr. Bateman.” Mr. Dog––until she could come up with a more dignified and original name––chose that moment to rise up on his hind legs to look out the window. He barely held onto the side of the carriage and seemed to be defying gravity.

  “He truly is magnificent.” Aubrey announced. She could hardly have been more proud if he were her actual child. “I do believe, Mr. Bateman, that this dog is going to make quite the splash in London.”

  “Like you.” Mr. Bateman grinned.

  “Like me.” Aubrey grinned back.

  Chapter 5

  Aubrey

  Mr. Dog was all sorts of talented, and… interesting looking… but the one thing that he was not, was clean. And whatever muck he’d gotten himself into was not lending itself well to the close confines of the coach interior. After riding along for just over half an hour, Aubrey could not pretend it didn’t bother her any longer and pointed out a small brook on the side of the road.

  “Would you be terribly upset if we stopped to—“

  “Pull over Daniels!” Mr. Bateman had the sliding window open before she could finish making her request. “We’ve got to get that smell off this dog.”

  He’d been enduring it for her. This man was becoming too endearing for words.

  Mr. Daniels pulled off the road and although she couldn’t see the brook, she could hear it babbling nearby.

  “I have some soap––in one of my trunks––and a linen to dry him with. The water will be cold. I don’t want him to get catch a chill.” Aubrey explained her plan to Mr. Bateman as he assisted her out of the carriage. “Oh, do hold tightly to him. I don’t want him to run away. Not that he oughtn’t be allowed his freedom but really, he doesn’t appear to be much of a hunter and likely will starve without me.”

  But Mr. Bateman had already somehow secured a small rope around Mr. Dog’s neck and placed him onto the ground. “You hold him, Princesse. While I get your trunk down.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Only she’d rather he not actually go through her belongings. She hadn’t locked it but a lady’s personal effects were… well… personal.

  Mr. Dog tugged at the rope, however, as he sniffed in search of, ah yes. The perfect place for him to lift his leg. She was rather proud that he sought to go about his business outside. Perhaps he had been trained at one point.

  She was vaguely aware of Mr. Bateman hefting one of her rather large trunks off of the carriage and onto the ground but couldn’t very will interrupt Mr. Dog’s endeavors.

  “The soap is in this one?” Mr. Bateman was fiddling with the latch. “You’ll have to come over here Princesse and show me which linen you’re willing to give up for poor Mr. Dog over there. I cannot imagine you’ll want to bring it along once we—“

  Aubrey glanced over in concern to see that the dratted man, had, in fact, gone rifling through her belongings and was holding up the single garment she owned that she would wish no one know about.

  Sheer and lacy, the sapphire colored negligee dripped through his fingertips looking even more sinful in the full light of day.

  “Mrs. Tuttle insisted I take it.” Red faced, Aubrey dragged Mr. Dog to where her trunk rested and pointedly snatched the offending article out of Mr. Bateman’s hand. “I assured her I had no use for it. That I never would, but she insisted there might come a time…”

  Aubrey stuffed it toward the bottom of the trunk beneath her high necked, long sleeved white cotton night rail and other modest garments wishing she’d ignored Mrs. Tuttle in this particular matter. Pretending nonchalance, she then located her satchel with a cherished bar of soap as well as an old apron that she’d happily sacrifice in order to rid Mr. Dog of his odoriferous state forever.

  Mr. Bateman had yet to speak a single word since his discovery and Aubrey ignored the heat burning her cheeks.

  She’d nearly left the garment behind but stuffed it in at the last minute. Not only was it beautiful, but it was a gift from a dear friend. And a part of her had somehow embraced the promise that came along with Mrs. Tuttle’s sentiment.

  Only if the right gentleman were to come along, which Aubrey had doubted would ever be the case.

  Without waiting for him to make some embarrassing comment, Aubrey lifted Mr. Dog into her arms and carried him in the direction of the brook. The animal’s legs were so very short that if Aubrey wished to make a quick escape, the dog could not be depended on to keep up with her.

  “He ought to have waited for my permission.” She impressed her dismay upon Mr. Dog. Of course, the most scandalous item Aubrey had ever owned would be the first thing Mr. Bateman laid eyes upon the moment he opened up her trunk.

  The brook came into view and as she knelt beside the gently flowing water, Aubrey wet one of her hands and pressed it to her cheeks, neck and forehead in an effort to dismiss her humiliation.

  “Have a care, Princesse. I don’t think Mr. Dog is going to enjoy this.”

  Of course, he had followed her.

  Aubrey slowly lowered her long bodied pet into the water and before his toes had barely submerged, the poor dear clawed and climbed his way back into her arms.

  “Give him over.” Mr. Bateman reached over to wrap his hands around the dog’s now dirty and wet abdomen, his arms grazing Aubrey’s breasts and his chest inches away from her mouth. Despite the cold water Mr. Dog had splashed on her, and despite the awful smell, Aubrey thought she could easily become inebriated on Mr. Bateman’s… essence.

  “Get your soap ready, Princesse.” And his lovely accent.

  “This won’t hurt a bit, little fellow. No one will hurt you. Just need to get all that stink off. What do you say to that? If you’re going to belong to a Princesse, you first must smell like a prince.” He spoke in soothing tones to the dog as he lowered him into the icy water and scooped handfuls along the dog’s back.

  It brought that first moment back to mind, when she’d been watching him brush his horse, melting Aubrey’s heart all over again.

  “Let’s make this as quick as possible.” Mr. Bateman glanced over, spurring her into action with the soap. She couldn’t keep her hands from brushing his as she scrubbed the dogs back and neck. Working together like this, she could not prevent pressing her breasts against Mr. Bateman’s muscular arms.

  At first, she resisted the sensations, but as Mr. Dog seemed to settle down and enjoy her scrubbing hands, she too found herself taking pleasure at being so near this man.

  Mr. Bateman rinsed the animal off and when he finally pulled Mr. Dog from the water, Aubrey was surprised to see that his short hair wasn’t brown at all, but more of a deep auburn. “Aren’t you lovely!” But before she could wrap the apron around her pet, he shook from the top of his head to the end of his tail sending cold water flying in all directions and soaking she and Mr. Bateman in the process.

  Astonishment struck her numb initially, but seeing a similar expression of dismay on Mr. Bateman’s face, and that he, too, was soaked, she couldn’t help but break into a fit of giggles.

  Unbalanced by her mirth she fell back onto her bottom, jerked at Mr. Dog’s leading string, and managed to bring Mr. Bateman down and onto the wet ground beside her. Oh, but now she was wet and covered in dirt and mud and so was Mr. Bateman, who had rolled to his side and was staring at her in consternation.

  Which only managed to make Aubrey laugh harder.
r />   Mr. Dog shook himself a second time and then lay down upon Aubrey’s abandoned apron to presumably dry himself off in the sunshine.

  “We’re drenched.” She lay back, closed her eyes and breathed on a sigh once she got her laughter under control. The air was cool, but the sun was warm, and Aubrey couldn’t help but think that Mr. Dog’s idea was a fabulous one. “Mr. Daniels is going to have conniptions over Milton’s coach.” She added.

  Only she didn’t really care all that much. She had a pet. She was in the company of a handsome and charming gentleman, and most of all, she was free.

  “Mr. Daniels can hang.” Aubrey turned her head to see that Mr. Bateman had followed suit. “At least Mr. Dog will no longer smell like shite.” He turned his head and met her eyes.

  Oh, but why had she made him promise not to kiss her?

  Because then his company would be improper, she reminded herself.

  “I’m glad you chose to travel with me, Mr. Bateman.” She couldn’t keep herself from making the admission. She only wished she knew more about him.

  He chose the moment to reach across and brush some tendrils of hair away from her face. “I’m glad too.”

  But neither of them moved. They both just lay in the sunshine, staring into one another’s eyes. “Why are you not looking forward to your birthday party?” It bothered her. Had he been estranged from his family? She did not think that he was exactly lying, but she was certain he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming in the significance of his birthday, or of this particular party.

  “Ah… Aubrey.” It was the first time he’d chosen to call her by her name. Aubrey swallowed hard, preparing herself for him to tell her to mind her own business… or that he was married… or something as equally devastating to her. “I need to take care of a few matters and my birthdate has become a deadline of sort… but,” he sat up and then dragged her into a sitting position as well. “Neither of us will ever arrive at our destinations if we spend the day laying around in the mud like this.”