The Scandalous Secret 0f The Tempting Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 6

  “The textile industry is growing by the second, Father,” she told him confidently. “Even the ton is contributing to its rise with its ever-changing fashion trends from neighboring countries. And wool is at the very base of all that. Honestly, Father, I’m surprised you haven’t made this move already.”

  His grin was slow and all consuming. Pride swelled in her at the proud look in his eyes. “Well said, Matilda. I was thinking the same thing.”

  “May I ask why you decided to ask me that?”

  “I wanted to see just how much you knew about all this. Of course, I would understand if you didn’t know much. I haven’t really introduced you to all this. Didn’t think I would need to.”

  Because by now, she should have been married and invested in raising a family. Matilda didn’t need to be told what he meant by that. “I’m glad I could be of service.”

  “You could be of even more service. Prepare for a guest in the parlor.”

  “A guest?”

  “Yes, someone will be calling on us to talk about business. Prepare the parlor for him.”

  Matilda blinked at him. “May I ask who it is?”

  “The Duke of Brentminster.”

  “Oh. I’ll get the parlor – wait, the Duke of Brentminster?”

  The mischief that lit his eyes was expected but Matilda couldn’t help not gaping at him. “Yes. Will that be a problem?”

  “No.” She said it quickly, a little too quickly and her father was much too perceptive not to notice it. “That is no problem at all. Why would it be? I’ll have it ready for his arrival.”

  She rose stiffly, her limbs feeling oddly numb at the information. She could feel her father’s gaze steady on her but Matilda didn’t care to meet it. Instead, she left the study, her body suddenly hot.

  When meeting with others, her father liked to use the parlor, while the drawing rooms were reserved for her mother. Matilda didn’t receive many guests and whenever Elizabeth did, she had been too young to entertain them without her mother being present. But the parlor was her father’s domain and he liked to ask the butler to prepare for visitors, not her.

  What angle is he playing at here?

  Matilda didn’t understand what he was thinking but soon enough, she didn’t care. The familiar tingles of excitement pricked her arms, thinking about the gentleman who would be here soon. She could already picture herself greeting him at the doorway, as the self-instated lady of the household and escorting him to the parlor. She didn’t need to, she knew, but she wanted to. More than ever she wanted to see the gentleman who was beginning to make her yearn for something she could no longer have.

  Or is that a bad idea? Should I really allow the butler to do it?

  Matilda paused in her tracks, uncertain. The memory of their last encounter, at the ball, flashed in her mind and she remembered spotting him talking to her father now and again. She didn’t doubt what her father was saying, but remembering how they spoke at the ball, she imagined he really might be thinking of creating ties with the Duke. If that was the case, she shouldn’t let her own feelings get in the way of that. If he told her to prepare the parlor, then it was the least she could. Matilda had nothing else going on anyway.

  It didn’t take her very long to get everything in order and the moment the butler announced his arrival, Matilda was a mass of nerves. She smoothed her hands over her dress, hoping she didn’t look like a flustered mess and half regretting not changing before he arrived. She fixed her hair quickly then stopped herself when she noticed what she was doing. Oh, she wished Elizabeth was around to help smooth her nerves.

  “Miss Jones…”

  “Good day, Your Grace,” Matilda greeted kindly. She ignored the dumbfounded butler to her left, who she had forgotten to tell of her plans to meet The Duke by the door. Taking his cue, he shrank backwards, allowing her to usher him in.

  The Duke looked positively surprised to see her and the pleasure that lit his face right after only served to make her stomach tighten. “Good day, Miss Jones. You are looking quite lovely.”

  “Why, thank you, but I think it’s my father you should be flattering. Not me.” She turned to the butler who instantly stood at attention. “Could you inform my father of His Grace’s arrival?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “I must say, it is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Jones. I was afraid my talk of stepping on your toes might have chased you away.”

  Oh, she was chased away from him but it wasn’t by anything he said. Rather, it was the way she felt when he was around that made her want to take a step back.

  Like right now.

  Instead, she smiled. “I would be a fool to run from a gentleman of your stature, Your Grace.”

  “Now, who’s the one showering who with compliments?”

  Matilda chuckled. “I did say you should be flattering my father, did I? Tell him his graying hair makes him look distinguished. He’s a sucker for that.” Matilda turned and he fell in step next to her as she led him to the parlor.

  “Noted, noted. Anything else?”

  “You won’t need anything else. The moment you say that, you’ll have him in the palm of your hand.”

  He laughed again. She preened. She was good at making him laugh, she noticed. They made it to the parlor and Matilda was suddenly aware that it was only them. Even so, she led him inside. Maybe she could keep his company until her father arrived. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

  “I hope whatever business you and my father have to talk about goes smoothly.”

  “I hope so as well.” He left it at that. He was standing in the center of the room, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Matilda looked up at him, intending to offer him a seat but the words couldn’t go past her lips.

  The way he was staring at her … it was the night of the first ball all over again. Surely that was by design? He … he had to know what he was doing, right? What he was doing to her by staring at her in such a manner? Matilda couldn’t tear her eyes away and her stomach, the usual victim of such stares, erupted with a host of butterflies.

  “Is there something you would like to say to me, Your Grace?”

  “Yes,” he answered without hesitation, his eyes never leaving hers. They suddenly became searching, as if he was trying to find something within them.

  For a moment, Matilda nearly gave in. She nearly allowed herself to fall wholly victim to his spell. But before she could make such an erroneous decision, her father entered.

  The Duke’s eyes darted to the door rapidly, as if he had been caught in the act of doing something wrong. Matilda merely looked over as her father strolled in. Her father didn’t have eyes for her. They lit up when they saw the Duke. “Your Grace! I’m happy you could make it. Welcome to my humble abode.”

  “Thank you for inviting me, My Lord.” The Duke shook hands with her father and Matilda could tell he hadn’t completely recovered from whatever just happened between them.

  What does he plan to say to me? Will it be inappropriate to ask about it later?

  Matilda was usually precise when it came to her manners. At first, it was so she could maintain her own social upstanding in society, but now, it was merely to prevent any of her actions affecting Elizabeth negatively. Asking His Grace such a thing fell short of her usual manners, but the urge was near stifling.

  “Matilda, dear, you may go.” Her father didn’t mind cutting to the point and he didn’t pay her any mind when he said that either. Matilda was almost grateful for the dismissal. By the time she left, her father was pouring the Duke a drink, but she was certain the Duke’s eyes had been on her.

  * * *

  Talking to ladies wasn’t his strong suit. Keeping his nose out of matters that didn’t concern him, such as witnessing the purse snatcher at the port, wasn’t his strong suit either. Neither was going at least a week without so much as tripping just a little bit. But when it came to talking business, Timothy was an expert.

  The Viscount was the one
who mentioned a connection between their two companies. Timothy knew a lot about the Viscount’s company but business relations between the two hadn’t felt like a necessity until Lord Roburg mentioned it.

  Timothy wondered if he might have turned it down if he hadn’t known of Miss Jones’ existence. He had a sinking feeling he was sitting in this arm chair, talking about working alongside this gentleman, because his daughter had captured him so.

  But now that he was here, Timothy saw the merit in the relationship. Miss Jones or not, it was beneficial to his own business and by the time they were done, Timothy was happy to see that they would need to meet a few more times to tighten up the details.

  Which means potential opportunities to see Miss Jones again.

  “I have to admit to you, My Lord, I believe this would make us both very happy.”

  The Viscount beamed at that, his eyes crinkling into nothing. “You took the words right out of my mouth, Your Grace.”

  Lord Roburg opened the door, allowing Timothy through first. A sudden bout of excitement settled within him when he stepped out of the parlor, eyes darting about in hopes of spotting Miss Jones again. He didn’t get very far when something small shot in front of him, causing him to stumble backwards into the Viscount.

  “Are you all right, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, I, uh …”

  “Jackson!” The hiss came from his left. Timothy blinked in confusion when he saw Miss Jones rounding the corner, bent over as if trying to look for someone beneath the furniture. She didn’t see him standing by the doorway. In fact, her eyes went right by him then lit up with relief.

  To the right of him, there was a little boy. He looked to be barely two, struggling in the arms of a servant, grinning from ear-to-ear.

  “Thank God you caught him, Miss West. I don’t know how he got away from – oh, Your Grace. I … I didn’t see you there.”

  “Miss Jones.” Timothy couldn’t look away from the squirming child, even when Lord Roburg stepped around him to address his daughter. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Apologies, Father. I was keeping him company and we got to playing and then it quickly got out of hand.”

  The Viscount didn’t look like he cared to hear anymore. “Take him away, Miss West.”

  “Yes, m’lord.” The governess scurried away with the child in her arms. Timothy watched them go, eyes meeting with that of the young child who had settled down when he noticed there was a stranger in his midst.

  “I hope you weren’t startled, Your Grace?”

  Her voice floated in from the distance and Timothy didn’t look at Miss Jones until the child was completely out of sight. “Pardon?”

  “I apologize if he startled you. I’ll make sure to keep a better hold on him next time.”

  “Y-yes, right.” Was he stammering? What was happening to him? After seeing the child, his brain didn’t seem to want to work anymore.

  Miss Jones nodded. He couldn’t read her face, couldn’t tell if she was mortified or contrite. Maybe she was neither. Why would she be, after all? “It was nice seeing you, Your Grace.”

  She bowed a little then walked away. Timothy was too dazed to do anything but watch her leave.

  “I’ll have the butler escort you out, Your Grace,” Lord Roburg said from behind him, bringing him back to the present.

  He nodded and the butler materialized out of nowhere. For the latter part of the meeting, he had been hoping that Miss Jones would be the one doing the escorting but he didn’t think that was an option anymore. He dutifully followed the butler out the manor and his legs took him to his waiting carriage. When he was inside, he let out a loud breath.

  He heard the rumors. He knew the scandal that weighed heavily on her. And even so, Timothy hadn’t cared about it. She was a beauty, with a witty tongue and a laugh that could make him forget everything around him.

  And she has a son.

  Why didn’t it bother him? Or, better yet, why was he so taken with her when he was bound to someone else?

  Chapter 8

  To say she wasn’t happy to be out of the manor was an understatement. Matilda had been longing for fresh breeze on her face, willing to endure whatever embarrassing things that would be said about her just to get out for a little while. So, when a potential suitor came to call on Elizabeth, asking for a stroll through the Square, Matilda was happy to chaperone for them.

  They were strolling ahead, talking with each other. Matilda watched her sister laugh a little too loudly and smile a little too broadly to be deemed appropriate, but she didn’t care to correct her. She was clearly enjoying herself and she made a mental note to ask her how she felt about this particular suitor. After all, Elizabeth laughed and smiled like that with nearly everyone she met. While it was one of the things Matilda loved most about her, but it could be very misleading.

  The sun felt very nice this afternoon, the breeze gentle and cooling. She was dressed in a modest beige dress, wearing very little rouge on her face. Serving as only a chaperone for today, there was no need to get all done up. Matilda was just happy she had the chance to use her parasol again. It had been steadily gathering dust.

  “Miss Jones, what a coincidence.”

  Matilda came to a jarring halt. She hadn’t seen him coming, hadn’t gotten a chance to prepare herself for his presence. Suddenly, it was all hitting her at once, seeing him in the day’s light shining so magnificently. He was garnering the attention of nearly all the women present and yet he had come over to talk to her. She felt a mixture of happiness and confusion swirl within her.

  “Your Grace!” She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice and she hurried to keep walking, ensuring that she kept close to Elizabeth. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can’t a man go for a midday stroll like everyone else?” the Duke started walking along with her, his hands behind his back.

  “Of course, you can, Your Grace. I just find it interesting that we happen to be going on a stroll at the same time, in the same place.”

  Oh goodness, why did I say that?

  She hadn’t meant to make it seem like she thought he was following her.

  One glance at the Duke’s handsome face told her that he hadn’t taken it that way. “Fate has a way of making things happen, don’t you think?”

  “Fate?” she frowned. “Do you think this is fate?”

  “Of course. What else would you use to explain why we keep bumping into each other? Although this time, I managed to stay on my feet.”

  The laugh came without warning and Matilda put a gloved hand over her mouth to keep from being too boisterous. “I must say, Your Grace, you are very at ease with your clumsiness.”

  “I’ve had six-and-twenty years to get used to it,” he said with a shrug. “Nothing can be done about it, so why not joke about it from time to time?”’

  “That’s one way you could do it.”

  They walked in silence for a little but those few seconds felt as long as a day. Matilda was suddenly overly aware of the eyes that were on them. When he was talking, she didn’t see them, but when he wasn’t, it was the only thing she was aware of. Watching her, watching him, watching them together. She could only imagine the things they were saying.

  “So, are you here as a chaperone for your sister?” he asked to break the silence.

  “That I am.” Elizabeth and her suitor were still walking a little way ahead, oblivious to what was going on behind them. “Although, I must admit, I was glad for the chance to get out of the manor. I was beginning to grow stir crazy. And incredibly bored.”

  “Bored? I figured you would have a lot to do in that household.”

  Matilda looked at him. “What do you mean by that, Your Grace?”

  “A bouncing, playful child in the manor is bound to make things more interesting, don’t you think?”

  Matilda didn’t know what to say to that. His words sounded so … innocent. With no ill-intent or judgment. After what had happened at the manor a f
ew days ago, Matilda didn’t know what he thought of her anymore.

  There had always been the slim chance that he didn’t know about her scandal. That, maybe, his obliviousness was what kept him interested in taking to her and, now that he knew, he would treat her the same as everyone else did. But no, he was here. Talking with her, casually mentioning the young boy he thought to be hers as if he was talking about the weather.