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Authors: Renee Reynolds

Tags: #comedy, #historical fiction, #romantic comedy, #england, #historical romance, #london, #regency, #peerage, #english romance

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BOOK: Lord Love a Duke
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“Since we have been confessing much tonight,
let me add that it was my first kiss as well,” the Duke offered.
Juliet's head jerked up as she started over that statement.

“Saints and sinners, I know you are not
serious! I will never believe for one instant that a member of the
LOO has never kissed.”

Jonas chuckled at her curse then smiled
ruefully. “Let me amend my statement, then. It was my first kiss on
the lips. I have kissed countless hands, and the air above
countless hands, as well as numerous cheeks, but never lips.”

Juliet's look of astonishment quickly
changed into disbelief. “I know you are less enthusiastic, shall we
say, than my brother and your other friends, in pursuit of
debauchery, but I know you cannot be a saint and untouched.” She
surprised herself with her candid statement and moved her hand to
cover her mouth as if in effort to stem any other inappropriate
comments.


I am not, as you term
it,
untouched
, but . . . well . . .
I am not sure how to explain it.” He ran his hand through his hair
again as he sought the words. “Men have needs and mine have been
assuaged from time to time, but I never had any more motivation
involved than just that. There was no attachment of feeling nor
concern for another. I suppose the easy way to explain it is that I
did not care to kiss anyone. Like you, it seemed too personal an
act to bestow on someone without any feeling behind it.” Jonas
began to look uncomfortable with this vein of their discourse and
shifted to move away from her. Juliet blocked his path with a hand
to his arm. He looked into her eyes and saw a gleam of something he
could not define.

“So, what you are saying . . . what I am
saying, is that we have finally found someone with whom sharing a
kiss seems worthwhile. A good idea, if you will.” She moved her
hand up to his face and lightly traced his lower lip with her
finger. He breathed deeply at her touch and his eyes began to
smolder in that darkened way she had noticed earlier.

“Oh, it is definitely a worthwhile idea. I
had a tutor that used to repeat constantly that 'anything worth
doing was worth doing well.' You, my worthwhile Juliet, do it
well.” He began to lower his head back to her. “One more, and then
I feel we should break for the night. We are quite alone. I should
not want to compromise you further,” he joked.

“We are to marry. How much further action
can you be compelled to take?' she questioned with a grin.

His eyes seemed to burn
from some fire within as he groaned lightly. “You have no idea, my
lady, how much further action I long to pursue. One week,” he
murmured against her lips. “One more week.” He claimed her lips
with
his in a searing, soul-stealing
kiss
.

Chapter Forty-One
The fool doth think he is wise, but the
wise man knows himself to be a fool.
William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act 5,
Scene 1

Juliet slept surprisingly well considering
just one night prior she had sewn herself to the bed linens in a
Duke's chamber and spent the entirety of her darkest hours
mortified and worried, trapped on her knees by her own foolishness.
But it was not the quantity of sleep she had just achieved but the
quality. Her troubled heart and mind were blessedly too tired to
continue vexing her with recriminations and what ifs. When she
awoke at the intolerably early hour of seven of the clock, she
found she could not stay abed and quickly dressed without the
assistance of her maid in a simple morning gown of seafoam green
with capped sleeves and squared bodice. This gown would suffice
when on her berry-picking errand later as well. After donning
stockings and slippers, and pinning her long braid into a simple
coil at the nape of her neck, she moved to the door of her chamber
and discovered a piece of vellum laying just inside on the floor.
Written in a bold, authoritative script was a note from her
affianced.

Juliet,

I have been informed I am
to escort you to the strawberry fields later this morn. If it
please you, I will have Cook pack a lunch, and we will picnic on
the grounds as before.

I give you fair warning: I
mean to court you in earnest, so prepare to reveal all your likes,
dislikes, dreams, and desires. I shall meet you on the rear terrace
at eleven of the clock if this meets with your approval.

Yours Always,

Jonas

Juliet smiled to herself, already
anticipating their meeting later, before refolding the note and
placing it on her dressing table. She left her chamber and quietly
made down the stairs and into the music room at the rear of the
house. The butler, Hastings, was already there giving instructions
to a maid but broke off his conversation so both servants could
make their proper greetings.

“Good morning, Hastings. I am sorry to be
about so early. Will I bother anyone by playing for a while?” asked
Juliet.

Hastings rose from his bow as he replied.
“Good morning, my lady. You shall be in no one's way here. Bessie
is just righting the grate now. Do you require a fire or perhaps
some tea?” he inquired.

Juliet smiled warmly as she approached the
pair. “Indeed, I require nothing save a little pounding on the
keys. If you are sure I will cause no disruption to your schedule,
I will occupy Her Grace's fine instrument.” Juliet turned to the
small maid. “Bessie, please continue with whatever duties you need
without concern of me. That is, if you can tolerate my noise,” she
teased.

Bessie, startled at being addressed directly
by one so fine, blushed under the notice. “Oh, my lady, I'd be ever
so pleased to hear ye play whilst I work. We've all heard yer
playing this week. Y'ere a right charm on it,” she blurted out.


You are very kind to say
such, Bessie,” Juliet replied as she moved to the instrument. “Do
you have a favorite tune I might attempt for you? How about
The King's Ballad
?” she asked. As Hastings
opened his mouth Juliet rushed in to prevent his denial. “Now,
Hastings, please let me enjoy playing this song for a moment. It is
early and a lively song is just what we all need to wake our sleepy
minds and bodies.” She winked at the young maid and began to play
the old song with enthusiasm. By the second time through, two
footmen, the kitchen maids and Cook, and the housekeeper had found
their way to the music room.


Youth must have some dally-ance, of good
or ill some pasty-ance
,” sang out the below
stairs workers of the group now gathered around the pianoforte,
employing a bit of poetic license with the original lyrics and
varying degrees of melody and harmony. Juliet smiled in delight at
the unbridled joy present in their small assembly. Thomas, the head
footman, grabbed the stout arm of Cook and began to dance and swing
the older lady around as others began to clap. Juliet played into
her next selection when interrupted by the appearance of Viscount
Melville and his sister, Lady Margaret.

Hastings pulled on the bottom of his coat to
straighten its lines and regain his professional mien as the
housekeeper and Cook bustled the maids away from the instrument and
out the door to the rear of the room nearest the servant
stairs.

“Thank you for a lovely good morning,”
Juliet called out to the departing servants and was rewarded with
several shy smiles and pleased faces. Hastings bowed and tapped the
shoulders of his footmen and they exited to the front hall, pausing
to acknowledge the arrival of the siblings. Lady Margaret could not
disguise her surprise at the spirited scene she and her brother had
intruded upon, but she was by no means affronted by the gaiety. A
stickler for clear lines of demarcation between workers and their
“betters,” the Viscount was quick to make his opinions known to the
ladies despite them being quite aware of his unkindly disposition
toward staff.

“Lady Juliet, whatever were you thinking
letting the servants neglect their morning duties in such an
unseemly manner. It is good that it was my sister and I who
stumbled upon the raucous scene rather than Their Graces,” he
chided her with no small degree of condescension.

Juliet sighed inwardly as she prepared for a
pointless conversation of differing opinions with the
self-satisfied lord. No matter how strong or truthful her
remonstrations, no doubt Lord Melville would fail to appreciate or
consider his own ideas might be the ones in error.


I assure you, nothing
untoward occurred here this morning, my lord,” she responded as she
rose from the piano seat to drop a polite, though she thought
thoroughly undeserved, curtsey to the insufferable prig. “It was I
who intruded on the staff and their duties, then prevailed upon
them to let me play for the brief pleasure.”
And the
Duchess would have clapped along with them all
, she groused to herself.

Melville gifted her with an oily smile and
moved to take her hand and bestow a wet and far too-personal kiss.
Juliet barely suppressed a shudder and took a calming breath
through her nostrils in effort to stem her irritation. “My dear
lady, it would give me great pleasure to hear you play again. In
fact, it would give me great pleasure to be party to anything you
might care to do,” he added with just enough emphasis on certain
words to leave no doubt as to his suggestive meaning. It appeared
to Juliet that the Viscount was much more forward and less
circumspect in his attentions when others were not around to
observe his actions.

Juliet tugged her hand gently but the
Viscount was stubborn this morning and only tightened his grasp. He
turned his head to give a slight nod to his sister to suggest she
leave but Lady Margaret pretended not to infer his meaning and
glanced away to look at the art work in the room. Melville placed
Juliet's hand on his crooked arm and turned to glare in force at
his sister. “Margaret, I see you have forgotten your shawl. You
will certainly catch a chill without it. Run fetch it and Lady
Juliet and I will await your return.”

Margaret looked at her brother and Juliet.
After seeing the latter's gentle smile she endeavored to comply,
albeit with obvious reluctance. “Of course. I shall send a maid
after it immediately.”

Melville glowered significantly at his
sister. “The staff has already been delayed in performing their
duties this morning so you may not impose on them further,
Margaret. You must procure it yourself.”

Lady Margaret stood still in a battle of
wills with her brother. The rise of color in his face caused her to
back down and acquiesce to his demands. “How surprisingly
solicitous of you George. I shall return posthaste.” Lady Margaret
moved to depart the room but turned to address her brother one
final time. “I shall not be gone long,” she stressed with a
purposeful look at the Viscount.

Juliet had no time to wonder at the
less-than-subtle exchange before Melville turned his suddenly
amorous attentions fully on her. He spun and grabbed her arms,
moving his face to mere inches from her. “My dearest lady, allow me
to express my sorrow over your most unfortunate betrothal. I know
without a doubt, despite my not knowing the full particulars, that
you are surely innocent of any misdeed and remain virtuous and
pure. I must therefore plead with you to accept my hand in
matrimony rather than another. For one mistake, especially one not
of your own making, you should not be consigned to a life of tedium
and staid duty. Please say you will permit me to offer you rescue
and refuge, repair your shattered reputation, and arrange a
marriage much more suited to your personality.”

Juliet was momentarily stunned into complete
silence, years of deportment lessons the only thing saving her from
gaping her mouth in astonishment. She inwardly scoffed that the
obsequious man could voice not knowing any particulars with one
breath then proceed to state his assumptions as unequivocal fact.
Mistaking her quiet for acceptance the Viscount charged on. “You
must know of my admiration of you, my desire to call you forever my
dearest, my own. I know you seek love and you shall have that with
me, much more so than with somber and stuffy Dorset,” he spat. “You
are my heart's desire, fairest Juliet.” He ended his passionate
tirade with an attempted significant look before lowering his mouth
to hers in a bruising kiss. At this final insult all manner of
words and ideas came rushing to the forefront of Juliet's mind and
mouth. She pushed the toadying man hard in the chest, with more
strength than she knew she possessed, and wiped the back of her
hand across her uncomfortably wet lips.

“You assume too much, my lord. While I am
cognizant of the honor you attempt to do me, please understand I
can offer you no words save polite refusal.” Juliet's bosom heaved
with barely controlled anger over the Viscount's presumptions and
high-handed behavior. His self-centeredness knew no bounds!

Melville's swept a possessive gaze over her,
his eyes lingering on her chest as she breathed rapidly in her
agitation. Juliet saw his stare and her anger rose further as he
spoke again. “I assure you, my lady, I meant only to offer you a
more palatable choice, as it were, to the decidedly unwelcome
prospect of marriage to Dorset. While the chance to be a duchess
would surely be a temptation to some, I know the reality of a life
with that dullard must remove all possible enticements and instead
give you cause for alarm.” He paused with a self-satisfied smirk.
“I saw your face during the so-called joyful announcement yesterday
morning. You were in misery at the prospect of shackling yourself
to that man, lofty title or no.”

This time Juliet could not stop the
unladylike gape of her mouth before clamping her jaws shut briefly
in disbelief. The sheer audacity and effrontery of the man would be
laughable if he were not so frustrating and obnoxious. “I see my
polite attempt at refusal will be too decorous for you to
comprehend. Let me make myself clearer on the subject, my lord. I
owe you no quarter and offer none save this. I am betrothed to the
man I wish to marry, and whatever you think you saw was sheer
misinterpretation on your part. In fact, the sum of all our
conversations since first we renewed our acquaintance here in
Sussex has been you speaking then failing to listen. Hear me on
this, Lord Melville, and let us have no further confusion. Thank
you for your offer, but I am quite contentedly pledged to another,
both in name and with my heart. Any further discussion on this
subject will only be met with disappointment.” Melville's face
became a mottled mess contorted with embarrassment and anger by the
end of her heartfelt speech. He quickly gained control of his
features but his eyes remained fiery and troubled.

BOOK: Lord Love a Duke
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