The Duke's Lady (Historical Romance - The Ladies Series) (7 page)

She gave him a slight nod. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have spent so much.” Yet she found it pleased her that he had been so thoughtful.

“Don’t worry about money, my dear. I think I can afford a few gowns. Besides, my sister can always wear them if you cannot. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He turned and started for the door. “I’d like to wash up before we dine. The trip from London was very dusty. I’ll send Annie up in a minute.”

Jewel frowned. His sister could wear them? And she’d thought he had been thinking of
her
when he’d bought the clothes. He was only being practical. She sighed, pushing aside her disappointment. What did it matter what he thought? Except, she admitted, he wasn’t the old gentleman she had first imagined. Quite the contrary. He was very good-looking, and probably half the women in London were in love with him. She’d best make sure she didn’t fall under his spell.

Jewel hadn’t realized how tired she’d been. A bath was just what she needed. Waiting patiently for the servants to fill the tub, she found herself looking forward to dinner tonight and excited at the prospect of learning more about the mysterious man she’d just met.

After she bathed, Annie spread a clean sheet on the bed and instructed her to lie down so she could attend her. Taking a few drops of sweet-smelling almond oil, Annie massaged the streaks that ran lengthwise down Jewel’s back, to ease the tightness.

“What would ye like to be wearin’ tonight? Adam has bought ye some beautiful things.” Annie wiped her hands on a towel.

Jewel rolled over, pulling the sheet around her. “I haven’t had a chance to look at anything yet,” she confessed. “Pick something soft. I’m still a little tender.”

Annie sifted through the many boxes until she found a soft dress and held it up for Jewel’s approval. The white silk gown had tiny roses on the neckline and appeared to have a loose fit with gathers under the bust. Tiny pink ribbons flowed down the back.

“’Tis perfect!” Annie smiled.

Jewel touched the silky material and thought it would feel cool on her skin, so she nodded her approval. Annie helped her slide the gown over her head, and Jewel found the garment to be a flawless fit, just as His Grace had said.

She swirled around for Annie to see, marveling at the way the material caressed her skin. “What do you think?”

“Ye be lookin’ pretty, lass. Ye won’t even be needin’ lip color, like most women do. When yer hair grows out ye’ll look just like a princess.”

“My hair
is
ugly, isn’t it?” Jewel reached up and touched the short hair that fell just below her ears, then glanced back to the mirror with a frown. “What can I do with it?” “Why, to be sure, we can do somethin’.” Annie brushed Jewel’s black hair until it shone. She applied water on the gleaming tresses, feathering them around Jewel’s face to give her a bewitching look. “Do ye like that?” Annie asked.

“It’s a big improvement.” Jewel could see Annie was pleased with her creation, and Jewel had to admit her hair did look better. She felt like a
real
lady. Hearing the knob of the door rattle, she turned to stare.

Unannounced, the door swung open.

Jewel’s breath caught in her throat.

Casually leaning against the door frame, the duke filled the entrance with his broad shoulders and rugged handsomeness. A pulse throbbed in his neck where dark skin contrasted against cream-colored linen. She found it impossible to tear her gaze from him.

As he pushed away from the door, she couldn’t help noticing how his breeches clung to his muscular thighs. His manner was one of supreme confidence, yet there was something about him that was untamed and savage. Somehow Jewel knew she’d never met anyone like him before.

He moved toward her. His gaze traveled over every inch of her body. She felt shy and unsure of herself, and she prayed her nervousness would go away before dinner was served.

“Are you ready to dine, Jewel?”

His textured, masculine voice sent shivers down her spine. “Yes. I find I’ve quite an appetite tonight.”

“Excellent.” Adam nodded to Annie, acknowledging her presence. “Can we have dinner served now?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

He offered his arm. When Jewel placed her hand on his sleeve, her fingers trembled. After he escorted her to the small, round table that had been set up earlier in her bedroom, he placed a soft pillow behind her back so she would be comfortable. What a contradiction His Lordship could be.

One minute he was hard and disapproving, and the next he was concerned with her comfort. Some deep intuition told her there was more to this man than he let people see.

Adam poured a glass of his finest wine, and watched as the rich, burgundy liquid touched her lips. He still couldn’t believe she’d survived. He felt as if he’d breathed life back into her body, willing her to live. No matter who she was or what she had done, Jewel would have his protection until she recovered her memory. She took another sip. “How do you like the wine?” he asked.

She nodded her approval. “It’s very good and has a rich flavor. I like wine, but I’ve always preferred rum.” She gasped. “Wait ... I remembered. Your Grace, I remembered! I like a drink called rum.”

“That is a good sign, and a mighty strong drink for a lady. Maybe it will not take long for your memory to return.” Propping his arm on the table, he leaned forward. “Interesting you should mention
rum. It’s hard to get here in England. However, I have tasted this drink in Louisiana and purchased a bottle in the Jamaican Islands,” he said thoughtfully. “Our cook, Marie, makes a very tasty bun. I enjoy using rum.” Adam stared at his visitor as he sampled his own glass of port. Could it be possible that Jewel wasn’t from England? And if not England, then where? He noted that her face was still thin from her recent fever, but he intended to restore her good health with plenty of food.

Their conversation stopped briefly when the servants filed into the room laden with silver serving platters, steaming with rich aromas. They lifted the lids to reveal rare roast beef nestled in a bed of small boiled potatoes.

Jewel felt wonderful after the delicious feast and three glasses of wine. Having enjoyed the meal so much, she now realized that she’d finished eating and had talked very little. Adam must think her rude. Then again, why should she care what he thought? But she found she did care. Taking another sip of wine, she looked from beneath her lashes to find

Adam watching her. His dark brows were drawn together, and his eyes were full of questions she couldn’t answer. Again, she found herself wondering why he would bother with her.

“You’ve quite an appetite, young lady. Most women I’ve known pick at their food and don’t do the cook justice.” Jewel laughed huskily. “I guess I do have a good appetite. I’m sure it isn’t very lady-like, but you have a superb cook, and the meal was simply wonderful!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed the roast.” Adam smiled. “Your accent sounds French. Do you perhaps speak the language?” Jewel shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Vous avez les plus beaux yeux brune, Mademoiselle."
Jewel felt the heat of her blush. She had understood every word. He had told her she had beautiful brown eyes.
"Merci, Monsieur. Je parle francais."

“Well, now there’s another clue in figuring out who you are. We’ll have your memory back in no time. Until then, remember you’re to be my guest.” Adam wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing, but for some strange reason he couldn’t send her away, at least not yet. And he had no earthly idea why he felt as he did other than that he liked her.

“Thank you.” Touched by his thoughtfulness, she reached across the table and laid her small hand on his. She was a perfect stranger to him, yet he wasn’t throwing her out.

The mere touch of his warm skin under her fingertips produced a tingling she was unprepared for. Gasping, she withdrew her hand and tried to cover her uneasiness. “T-tell me something about your family,” she stammered.

Adam’s eyes met hers, and he knew she’d felt the same exhilaration. It would be easy to lose himself in the depths of her brown eyes. They reflected her innermost thoughts and could prove useful as a mirror into her soul. Realizing she felt the same was of little comfort. He had no time for a woman. He also needed something stronger than wine, and reached for the brandy decanter, pouring a liberal portion into the glass. He wasn’t accustomed to talking about himself, but telling her a little couldn’t hurt.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he admitted. “I was raised here in Cornwall, but left when I was eighteen. You know how young men like to sow their oats.” He chuckled, for he’d definitely done just that. “I’ve sailed all over the world and found the place I loved most was America. I’ve a twin sister who lives just outside New Orleans, Louisiana.”

He relaxed as he continued to speak of his American home. “My plantation, Four Oaks, is surrounded by moss-covered trees and four very large oak trees. It’s a comfortable place, and most certainly doesn’t have the formality of England.”

“But you’re English! Does not your loyalty lie with England?”

“I’m only half English. My mother was an American.”

“This isn’t your home?” Jewel asked. “After all, you are a duke.”

“In a way, yes. I am the Duke of St. Ives by birth, but this was my grandfather’s and my father’s home. I’m here now because of my grandfather’s death and to get the estate running smoothly. Then I’ll hire someone to oversee Briercliff before returning to Four Oaks.”

An odd flutter of panic stirred in her stomach at the thought of his leaving. She’d never felt so thoroughly confused. “You’ll be going home before long? Will you book passage on a ship?”

“You’ve a strange habit of asking double questions, sweetheart.” He winked at her in a teasing mood. “I have my own ship. As a matter of fact, I have three—this one is called
Wind Jammer.
She’s a clipper, and I daresay there’s not another quicker.”

Jewel saw an excitement enter his eyes as he spoke of his vessel. It was easy for her to picture him standing at the helm, the wind blowing his hair, and for a fleeting moment another face flashed before her, but it was so brief she
couldn’t catch the image. Thank God this image wasn’t as scary as the other images.

Adam watched as she stared at him, but he could tell her mind was far away. Perhaps she was remembering some little something, and he wondered what her life had been like before she landed on his shore. She was full of life, and wasn’t in the least bit shy around him. He liked that. Maybe no one had taught her to play the aloof seductive role that most women played.

“Where’s the
Wind Jammer
now?” she asked. “May I see her one day? She sounds beautiful, Your Grace.”

Adam started laughing. She’d just done the same thing— asked two questions at once. “Please, call me Adam.”

“Thank you, Adam.”

He liked the way she shyly said his name, her accent adding a different sound with its mixture of French and English. If he could only put his finger on where he’d heard it before. “She’s in the colonies right now, transporting spices and other goods from the West Indies to America. I left my first mate, Derek, in charge. And in answer to your first ques
tion—when I’m ready to return home, I’ll send for Derek to pick me up. You can see the ship at that time.”

“Then you’ll be leaving soon?”

“I’m not sure. As I said, I still have some business matters to clear up here first. And I need to find out just who you are and where you belong.” Adam noticed the look of apprehension that crossed her face, and wondered what had caused it.

“I see,” she said softly.

Noting the disappointment in her voice, Adam came around the table to help her out of the chair. His hand slid down her arm. He felt her tremble at the mere brush of his fingers. He knew he was too close—her breathing became shallow.

Slowly, she looked up into his eyes. “You’re handsome,” she murmured, swaying toward him. “I didn’t mean to say that. Annie said that ladies should be demure.”

Adam grinned, thinking the wine had loosened her tongue as he reached out to steady her. A pink blush covered her face. Of course, he’d been guilty of keeping her glass full all night. If she could read his thoughts right now, she’d be smart and run out of the room to safety. God, she was beautiful, and he’d love to find out if her skin felt like satin all over. How he ached to touch her wine-sweetened lips. But Adam thrust aside the thought as soon as it formed. She still seemed an innocent child, much like his sister, he told himself. He’d not take advantage of her.

Finally, she looked down at her feet and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, my lady.” He put his finger under her chin and tilted her face up so he could see her eyes. He looked deep into their depths and found a burning passion, making him forget all earlier thoughts of her being a child. He groaned. Again the urge to kiss her grew like a fire within him. Jerking himself back to reality, Adam realized that he couldn’t kiss her as he wanted to. This attraction to her was insane. It made no sense at all. Gently, he brushed his lips against her forehead. “Good night, my lady.”