The Heart of a Duke (4 page)

"I am happy to provide even that small
service, my lady. Come now, before the whispers start." He crooked
an arm, the dratted smirk still in place, and tipped his head
toward the open terrace doors.

Elle was torn. While she would like to join
her friends on the sidelines, she didn’t want to answer any curious
questions about where the duke had hied off to this
time.

With stiff dignity, she placed her hand on his
arm, her fingers barely touching the material of his sleeve. Jacob
just laughed, a low rumble of amusement that slid through her
leaving tingles in its wake, and pressed his hand over hers,
molding her hand to his arm as he drew her out the
doors.

Fool. Reckless, masochistic
fool.

Jacob silently called himself these names, and
more, as he led Lady Eleanore onto the terrace. Her fingers were
stiff and cold where they were trapped between his own and his
forearm, but he could feel each one through his sleeve as if they
were branding irons.

The oil lights encased in glass that marched
along the terrace walls set her curls gleaming, shining like the
fire that danced in the lamps. He had not thought it possible, but
her delicate skin looked even softer in the flickering light,
burnished pale gold and smooth all over. He couldn't see her
beautiful blue eyes, as she had stubbornly averted her face from
him, but he doubted the look in them was pleased.

It was a sickness, what he did, time and time
again.

Agreeing to his cousin's requests to watch
over his betrothed when his inappropriate feelings for the girl
should have prompted him to decline. But he didn't; he never did.
It was torture, to be so close to her, and yet know that he could
never touch her.

Never taste that plump, sulky mouth. Never run
his fingers down the elegant line of her back. Never peel away that
mint colored confection she called a dress, to discover if what lay
underneath was as delicious as it looked.

Since he could not truly be satisfied without
betraying his closest friend, and the only man he called family,
Jacob bedeviled her at every opportunity instead. If he could not
inspire love, at least he could rouse her ire, until she was
flushed and flustered.

Stopping as they rounded the edge of the house
and the terrace abruptly ended, leaving them in a shadowed stone
alcove, he let Elle tug her fingers away. She quickly moved a few
steps from him, looking out over the sprawling lawns and garden.
Jacob leaned one hip against the balustrade and regarded her gilded
profile.

"I'm almost frightened to ask, but what's got
your stockings in a twist this evening, sweeting? Before I
appeared, that is."

The glare she shot him was meant
to quell, but it merely stoked his amusement. Not many in
the
ton
realized
there was quite a temper under that pretty exterior.

"If you insist on being vulgar, I shall
leave."

"I don't insist on it, though it
is
more fun. Tell me,
my lady
," he replied, drawing out
the emphasis on her title, grinning a little as she pressed her
lips together. "Why such a look of discontent? You've a lavish
gown, a wealthy duke in your near future, and the Upper Ten
Thousand purring in your palm. What more could a girl possibly
desire?"

On occasion, he liked to remind himself how
very far out of his reach she was.

"Desire," Elle mused as she stared out over
the immense stretch of grass, as if speaking to herself, and he
straightened abruptly. The muscles of his stomach quivered at the
sigh in her voice. "What an interesting choice of
words."

Was this why she was out of sorts?

Because she desired his cousin and was
impatient for her wedding eve? The thought made him a little sick.
In theory, he had always known she belonged to Langley, but he
could never make himself truly acknowledge what that
meant.

Langley would be the one to peel back that
dress, to touch her skin, to find out what made her cry out in
pleasure. He would take her to evenings at the theater, wake up
next to her in the mornings, and have summer afternoons with her.
He would father her children.

Jacob rubbed a hand over the back of his neck,
any amusement that had lingered now vanquished. "The direction this
conversation has taken is not entirely appropriate. I'm sure your
brothers would tell you that, were they here."

She cut him a glance, her lips curling into a
small smile that he could not read.

"As my brothers hardly deal with
any
ladies,
I'm
not as certain as you are. Do not fret, Mr. Farrish. I'm merely
commenting on your vocabulary, not planning a wild
romp."

Oh, the images that flashed through his
mind.

He let loose a long breath. "Be that as it
may, I suggest you focus more on what sort of awe-inspiring piano
pieces you'll be gracing us with at Langley's house party, and less
on things that do not concern unmarried ladies."

It was a remarkably priggish attitude to take,
and quite unlike him, but Jacob couldn't stop the words as they
tumbled out. He didn't want to think about her thinking about
Langley. It did all sorts of ugly things to his insides.

Elle swung around to face him, her fine blonde
brows drawn together in a scowl. "How like you to slap me down just
for being curious. It's that summer at Hadley Hall all over
again."

"I hardly think we can compare you sneaking
around after Langley and me when we were children to your musings
on what goes on behind the bedroom door," Jacob drawled, daring her
not to blush. She did not disappoint. The flush started at the base
of her throat, and worked its way up to her cheeks to tinge them a
deep rose.

"I'm merely pointing out that every time I
wanted to explore a little, you had to step in and squash my
intentions," she snapped, and stepped forward to invade his
personal space. "Whether it's following you as a child to your
secret fort, or wondering as a woman what it might be like to be
kissed with passion, you always have to ruin my fun."

"
I'm
ruining your fun? What does my
cousin say to all this?"

The scent of her, warm vanilla and flowers,
taunted Jacob as he stepped away, determined not to cross that
final line between foolish and fatally reckless.

"Pish." Elle waved a hand, her smile sharp and
unhappy enough to cause his chest to ache. "If Langley ever manages
to work himself up to kiss me, I hardly think it would be with
passion."

Langley hadn't kissed her.

What the hell was wrong with the
man?

If she belonged to Jacob, he'd
never
stop
kissing her.

Looking at Elle standing against the golden
glow of the lamplight, her ruffled gown slipping down one shoulder
a bit, Jacob knew that without a doubt she was the single most
dangerous threat to his comfortable existence. He could not
continue to bait and tease her, or even to spend time in her
company, without the inevitable loss of everything he
valued.

The Duke of Langley had promised his support
in Jacob's pursuit of an appointment as counsel in the King's
Court. And not only did he hold Jacob's future in one hand, the
other held his annual allowance. If Jacob allowed himself to act on
his feelings for Elle, he could very well find himself without a
family, a home, any expectation of financial security, and a future
as a barrister.

It had to stop now.

He schooled his expression into cool civility
and straightened from the balustrade, shutting away any warm
affection for her behind steel walls.

"I think we've dawdled out here long enough to
strain your reputation, Lady Eleanore. My cousin requested that I
keep you company in his stead, not start a scandal," he said with a
careless air, affecting a bored expression. "Let us return to the
ballroom. I'm sure your other dance partners have been searching
for you."

She opened her mouth, surely to argue, because
there was nothing more Elle seemed to love than to argue with him,
but he cut her off. "I do have other places to be this evening, my
lady. I cannot stand around, chatting with virgins about their lack
of kisses all night."

Elle pressed her lips together, a flash of
hurt in her blue eyes as she turned away, but he did not apologize
for his harsh words. She hardly allowed him to touch her elbow as
he escorted her back to the ballroom, and would not even grace him
with a look or murmured "goodnight" as she walked off into the
crowd.

Which was exactly how he wanted it. How it
should be.

How it
must
be.

Chapter Two

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the
morning sun ushering in chaos as the Barnaby household began
packing for the first house party of the Season. Elle had awoken in
a bad temper, due to one infuriating Jacob Farrish the evening
before, but she was determined to throw it off.

House parties were always a source of grand
entertainment, and she planned to squeeze every last bit of fun
from this one, as it was her last as an unmarried woman.

"Julia, have you seen my green walking dress?
The one with the yellow lace?" Elle picked through the pile of
gowns laid out on the bed ready to be carefully packed away for the
two day trip to the duke's northernmost estate, situated only a few
day's ride from Scotland. "I cannot find it."

Her maid looked up from where she was folding
hair ribbons into a paper packet. "I believe that the laundry girl
still has it. She had a bit of a time removing the mud stains from
when it was last worn."

"Oh, drat. I was going to wear that
today."

"How about the rose one instead?" Julia left
the ribbons to bustle over and remove a gown from the top of the
pile, shaking the wrinkles from it as she held it up. "The light
blue trimming looks lovely with your eyes, and you could wear your
new bonnet."

The rose dress did look well on her, and Elle
had been itching for an excuse to don her newest bonnet. Perhaps it
would help boost her mood. "An acceptable alternative. Thank you,
Julia."

The girl returned her smile with a shy one of
her own. "Of course, my lady. 'Tis what I am here for."

Elle slipped into the dress, then sat to have
her hair put up. As Julia carefully divided the locks into sections
for braiding, Elle resisted the urge to fidget. This was her least
favorite part of the day. She enjoyed looking fashionable, but
patience was not a talent born to her. Well aware of her mistress's
lack of forbearance, the maid was done in a jiff, and scurrying out
the door to locate the favorite green walking dress.

To avoid the confusion of packing, Elle
escaped to the breakfast room, where most of the family had chosen
to hide while the household rushed from one room to another. She
strolled in and picked up a plate at the sideboard, picking through
the ham for a piece with the least amount of fat. The gelatinous
texture when she encountered a bit of it gave her the
shudders.

She glanced around. "Where's Papa this
morning?"

The marquess's place at the head of the table
was empty, but then most days it was. He was a busy man, not
usually given much to socializing with the family. She directed her
question to the room at large, as she sat down next to her older
brother Alex.

"Meeting with the factor, though he mentioned
he'd attempt to be here to see you off." He folded a triangle of
toast around a chunk of ham and scoop of eggs, managing to neatly
wedge it all in his mouth without dribbling a crumb onto his
cravat. Elle shook her head in amusement as she slathered a thin
layer of marmalade on her toast. It was simply astounding how much
food her brothers could put away and yet never gain an
ounce.

The rats.

"Are you sure you won't come to Brookdale
Park, Alexander?" Mama sipped her tea, a faint frown marking her
brow. Even at the advanced age of forty-five, Mama was still one of
the most beautiful women that Elle had ever seen. Her figure was
girlish and not a streak of gray dared to mark the gold curls so
like her daughter's. "I'm sure there will be fishing and hunts,
never mind that you should be there to support your sister and
Langley. It's too bad your father's business will keep him in
London."