Cheers to the Duke Page 10

  Well, no, the main reason was Livy had virtually thrown her into Darrow’s carriage.

  Which reminds me . . .

  She sat down and frowned at Caro. “Have you been corresponding with Livy?”

  Caro didn’t even try to deny it. On the contrary, she acted as if there was nothing the least bit questionable about the matter.

  “Yes.”

  Jo felt betrayed. “How could you?”

  “Easily. She wrote to me. I reply to correspondence”—Caro gave Jo a rather pointed look—“unlike some people. I wrote you, too, if you’ll remember.”

  Guilt made Jo’s shoulders hunch, but she willed them back down, away from her ears. “Well, er, yes. I’ve been, ah, busy.”

  Caro sniffed, giving the distinct impression that she saw right through Jo’s evasion. Then she leaned forward—or as forward as her pregnant belly would let her. “I know it’s been hard for you since I left, Jo.” Now her voice was gentle. Warm.

  Lud! Jo felt something inside her soften and start to give way. To have Caro understand—

  No! Don’t let down your guard.

  “Is that what Livy told you?”

  Caro snorted. “Yes. Not that she had to. I’d already assumed as much, so she was just confirming my suspicions. You clearly weren’t going to tell me.”

  “Ah. Er. Well . . .”

  Caro’s voice was warm again. “Remember, I was there when Pen left. I know how you feel, Jo. I felt the same way.”

  Oh. All resistance hissed out of Jo, leaving her feeling as limp as an empty balloon.

  Pen shifted in her chair. “I am sorry, but I had to think of Harriet.”

  “And yourself and the earl,” Caro said. “It’s no secret you were madly in love, Pen.”

  Pen shifted again. “Well . . . yes.”

  Caro smiled. “I don’t blame you. I didn’t really blame you at the time.” She looked at Jo. “Neither of us did.”

  Jo nodded. “We were happy for you, Pen. We knew you’d made the right decision. But we still felt . . .”

  “Abandoned,” Caro said. “And worried about how we would manage.” Caro focused on Jo again. “And so, I knew you’d feel that way again, Jo—abandoned and worried—when I left you just months later. I would never have done it, if I hadn’t fallen so completely in love with Nick.” She grinned and patted her belly. “And I would have married him just as quickly, I’m afraid, even if we hadn’t anticipated our vows with the obvious result.”

  Jo felt an odd twinge of... envy perhaps. For one mad instant, she wished she could have what Caro and Pen had. Not a husband so much as a partner, someone who shared her goals, whom she could count on to be there month after month, year after year—like Pen and Caro had been for her before their husbands had entered the scene.

  She knew all too well that marriage was no guarantee of that. She and Freddie had eventually managed to coexist, but their union had never been a partnership. The one goal they’d both had—to have a son, Freddie’s heir—they’d failed to achieve. And Freddie had, in the end, abandoned her in the most final way possible.

  Jo sighed. “I guess I must feel a little threatened by Livy. Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  Caro nodded. “That’s what Livy said.”

  Jo scowled, annoyed that Caro had discussed her with Livy. She opened her mouth to protest—and stopped.

  Why do I feel threatened by Livy?

  She’d formed a partnership with Pen and Caro years ago. Why couldn’t she form a new one with Livy? She hadn’t really tried, had she?

  Maybe I do need this time away from the Home to get some perspective. Clearly, I’ve lost my way a bit.

  Caro was smiling at her. “I truly don’t think you have to worry about Livy, Jo. Nick says she has a good heart, and Nick is an excellent judge of character.”

  Jo managed not to roll her eyes at that, but something in her expression must have given her away, because Caro laughed.

  “And yes, I am madly in love and do think my husband is wonderful, but I’m also not a complete sawney. I’ve spent some time with Livy, too—just not as much as Nick has.”

  Right.

  This time Jo looked down at her hands to mask her thoughts. One shouldn’t remind a pregnant, newly married friend what her husband had likely been doing with a notorious lightskirt.

  Caro snorted, but moved on. “Nick thinks Livy had been looking for another line of work for a while—as had Polly and Fanny. The Home fits Livy’s skills perfectly.”

  Pen said what Jo was thinking. “Caro, the Home is not a brothel!”

  “I know that. But most of the women there were once in that trade. Livy understands them on a level we never could.” Caro shrugged. “She was one of them.”

  True.

  “I see your point.” Pen smiled and turned to Jo. “Perhaps it’s time for you to get into another line of work, Jo.”

  “What?!” Jo hadn’t expected an attack from her flank—though she supposed Pen wasn’t attacking precisely.

  Or . . . Good God! Do I smell more scheming?

  She looked from Pen to Caro and her eyes narrowed. They’d planned this, hadn’t they? Talked it over before she’d arrived.

  Yes! Pen was blushing and looking rather sheepish. She’d always been less successful than Caro at hiding a guilty conscience.

  Oh, lud. And now Pen was examining an invisible spot on her gown. What was coming next?

  “The Duke of Grainger is looking for a wife, you know.”

  “Argh.” Jo couldn’t manage more than that strangled sound—and then dropped her head into her hands.

  “You’d be a good match for him, Jo,” Pen said. “Harry thinks so, too.”

  And now the Earl of Darrow is getting into the matchmaking business?

  “Please don’t tell me your husband has an opinion on the matter as well, Caro.”

  Caro snorted. “Of course, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know you or the duke well enough.”

  Well, thank God for small favo—

  “But I have an opinion.”

  Of course, Caro did. Was there any hope she’d keep it to herself?

  No. Caro had never been one to hold back when she had some advice to share.

  “You should seriously consider marrying the duke, Jo,” Caro said. “You’d be perfect for him.”

  But Caro’s advice was usually more sensible than this.

  “I would not.” Best put an end to this bit of insanity at once. “He’ll want to marry a young woman who can give him more children.”

  “If he’d wanted a young woman, he’d be married already,” Pen said. “He’s had his pick of the eligible girls ever since he put foot on the Marriage Mart.”

  Caro nodded. “And he already has his heir. He doesn’t need to think only of getting a breeder.”

  Ugh. That’s what Freddie had wanted—a breeder. “I’m sure he’ll want a spare.”

  “Well, you aren’t ancient, Jo,” Caro said. “I would think you could give him that and then some.”

  Jo wished she had a nice cup of tea in her hand so she could pour it over Caro’s head.

  “You wouldn’t think that if you considered my history. I was married for three years, Caro. I did not have any children.”

  Caro shrugged. “Lady Muddlegate and Letitia seem certain that problem should be laid at your husband’s door.”

  “They are mistaken.” Caro and Pen were her friends, but she still wasn’t going to discuss what had happened in her marriage bed. She shouldn’t have to. They were married. They knew exactly what went on between husband and wife. “And, in any event, I have the Home to run, remember?”

  “But Livy could do that.”

  Didn’t Caro understand? “I don’t want Livy to do it. The Home is my charity. I founded it. I—”

  I’m shouting.

  She took a deep breath—and then another, searching for control.

  Pen laid a comforting hand on her arm. “It’s all right, Jo. No one is going
to push you to do anything. Just relax and enjoy your stay here.”

  But Caro still had the bit between her teeth. “If you married the duke, Jo, you’d still be in charge. You’d hold the purse strings and could tell Livy—”

  “Caro!” Pen scowled at her. “Let it go.”

  Caro stopped, mouth open—and then nodded. “Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to push, Jo. I just think . . .”

  “Caro,” Pen said again.

  “No, Pen, I have to say this.” Caro leaned forward, holding Jo’s gaze so Jo couldn’t look away.

  The raw sincerity in Caro’s voice held her, too.

  “I wasn’t looking for love when I ended up on Nick’s doorstep, Jo. I don’t think I really believed in it. But I found it—or, perhaps it found me.” Caro shook her head with what looked like bemusement and then caught Jo’s gaze again. “All I’m saying is, don’t bar the door. If love knocks, let it in. Love is what’s important, Jo. Everything else will work out if you have that.”

  Caro had never before been this fanciful or, well, maudlin. It must be the pregnancy talking—many women got a bit mawkish when they were increasing.

  Jo didn’t have the heart to tell Caro that love was an illusion, or, at best, fleeting. It would evaporate like the dew in the morning sun.

  “Very well. I promise not to bar any doors.”

  Chapter Eight

  Edward stood at the entrance to the maze. The sun rose early in the summer—too early.

  Everyone else must still be asleep, even Thomas, but he was awake. Unfortunately. He’d tried to go back to sleep, but after tossing and turning for what had seemed like forever, he’d given up. He had too much on his mind.

  Too much of someone on his mind.

  Perhaps the maze would distract him. It was certainly true that it would be easier to find the center without the “help” of a young boy—or, worse, a young boy and a large dog. And then later he could guide Thomas, letting him discover as much of the solution on his own as he could.

  He stepped onto the dirt path between the high hornbeam hedges.

  Ahh. This was exactly what he needed. It was even more calming than the woods yesterday. Yesterday there had been squirrels and birds—and Bear and Thomas.

  And Lady Havenridge.

  Now the world narrowed—literally—to just the path before him. The house, the other guests, all his worries were walled off by the towering hedges. He was alone—

  “Damnation.”

  The word—more of a hiss, really—an oddly muffled hiss—came from somewhere deeper in the maze.

  Damnation, indeed. Another early riser had had the same thought as he—and was likely also in search of solitude. He should go—

  “Argh! You bloody bush.”

  He choked back a laugh. Apparently, he should go to the rescue. It sounded as if his fellow explorer was in some difficulty.

  “Halloo! Grainger here. Can I be of help?”

  Silence. Was the person going to pretend she—and he was quite certain the exclamations had come from feminine lips—wasn’t there? That would be a harebrained thing to do, especially if she did, indeed, need some sort of assistance.

  She must have reached the same conclusion.

  “It’s Lady Havenridge. I’m stuck.”

  Of course, it was Lady Havenridge, the woman who had haunted his dreams, disturbing his sleep. He was equal parts resigned and energized.

  Fate had joined the other houseguests in conspiring against him.

  Or perhaps that was for him. In any event, he clearly had no choice in the matter. He wasn’t going to leave the woman in whatever predicament she’d got herself into.

  “Where are you?”

  “In the maze!”

  She didn’t add “you idiot,” but she might as well have.

  “Yes, but where in the maze?” He started walking. “In the beginning, the middle? Have you made it to the center?”

  “The middle, I suppose. I’ve turned down a dead end.”

  “Can you come toward my voice?” Though that might mean they would both wander—

  “No! I told you. I’m stuck!”

  How in the world could she be—

  Oh.

  He rounded a corner and saw her. Her bonnet was on the ground, her hindquarters were facing him, and her head . . .

  Was it in the hedge?

  She must have heard him come up behind her, because she started to turn—

  “Ouch!”

  Her face wasn’t in the vegetation—thankfully—but it appeared that her hair was tangled in the hornbeam branches.

  Do not laugh!

  He was afraid he wasn’t entirely successful at keeping all amusement out of his voice. “How did you manage to do that?”

  She made a growling sort of noise and glared up at him, but a look, no matter how ferocious, didn’t pack much of a punch when delivered from someone trapped in the shrubbery.

  “I heard something in the hedge and went to have a look—and then a bird flew out right by my nose. I jumped and lost my balance.” She tried to pull away from the hedge again—

  “Ack!”

  She was quite securely tethered to the greenery.

  “I tried to free myself, but I think I just made matters worse.”

  “Hmm. Let me see how bad it is. And I beg your pardon in advance—I’m going to have to get rather close. There’s very little room to maneuver.”

  There was no room to maneuver. The hedges were planted so people had to walk single file, but here in this blind alley, they were hemmed in on three sides. If he was going to reach the problem area, they would have to get very close indeed.

  She sighed. “Do what you must.”

  “Very well.” He stepped up against her and leaned over to survey the situation. “You’ve really got yourself snarled there, but I think I can free you without resorting to scissors.”

  She huffed, but he didn’t take it personally. She was frustrated. Anyone would be.

  “I’d have you shave my head if you had to.”

  “Blasphemy! I’d clip the hedge before I did that. Now hold still.”

  He reached for the first dark blonde tress. Mmm. It was so smooth. So silky. He’d like to thread his fingers through—

  Focus!

  He drew in a deep breath, and with it, her scent.

  That did not help him focus.

  “Will you get on with it?” She wiggled with impatience—which made her lovely rump dance over his poor cock with predictable results.

  No, not so predictable these days.

  Did I hear her breath catch?

  Wishful thinking.

  “If you make me hurry, my fingers will all turn to thumbs and I won’t be able to untangle anything.”

  She snorted, but held her tongue—until he accidentally pulled her hair. “Ouch!”

  “Sorry. I’ve almost got the first bit free.”

  “First?! How much more is there?”

  “Not sure. You did an excellent job of becoming one with the greenery.”

  She growled. “It will not happen again.”

  “Well, I assume you didn’t plan for it to happen this time. I suggest you take a companion with you when next you decide to venture into nature.” He grinned down at her. “I volunteer for that duty.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He chuckled and turned back to his task. “Almost done.” Unfortunately. He quite liked having her so close, his fingers in her hair.

  He loosened the vegetation’s last grasp on her and allowed himself one stroke to smooth the errant strands before he stepped back.

  “There you go. You’re a free woman, Lady Havenridge. And only a few leaves had to be sacrificed to the cause.” He grinned at her as she straightened. “That didn’t take long, did it?”

  She gave him a pointed look. “You weren’t the one bound to the hedge.”

  Then she emitted a long, heartfelt sigh of pleasure—that went straight to the most inappropriate pa
rt of his anatomy—and tilted her head to the right and then to the left as if to see if her neck still worked. “I do thank you from the bottom of my heart. I was beginning to worry I’d be trapped here all morning.”

  He frowned. That was not a pleasant thought. “I am very happy I happened by. I wasn’t entirely joking about being out by yourself, you know.”

  She frowned back at him. “Well, you should be joking. This isn’t London. I go about by myself all the time.”

  Right. Of course, she did. She was a fiercely independent woman who liked—perhaps needed—to be in control of herself and her world.

  The thought was rather . . . stimulating.

  “The same thing could happen to you,” she said—and stopped. “Well, not precisely the same thing. But you could be out alone and run into difficulties—twist your ankle or some such thing.”

  He grinned. “I quite agree. I would be very happy to have you along to supervise me and see to it that I don’t run into such problems.”

  She snorted at him—and then her hands went to her hair.

  “Oh, blast. I’ve lost all my hairpins.” She knelt down and started searching about in the dirt.

  He squatted next to her. “I suspect at least some of them have been swallowed up by the hedge.” He raised his brows. “I stand ready to free you from the shrubbery again if you wish to dive in to look. The rescue might go faster, now that I’ve had practice.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She kept her eyes on the ground. “Oh, there’s one.”

  She was wearing a moss green dress this morning and had, fortunately, dispensed with the odd shawl. She should banish it from her wardrobe entirely. It was a crime to hide her lovely neck and shoulders and . . . His eyes skimmed the edge of her bodice, partially hidden by her hair, tumbling over—

  “There’s another one!” She darted forward to snag it, and then frowned at him. “If you’re going to be down here in the dirt, you might as well help me look.”

  He grinned. He’d grinned more this morning than he had in months—perhaps years. “Oh, I’m definitely looking.”

  Her forehead creased—and then she blushed as she got his meaning. “Pins. You’re supposed to be looking for pins.”

  “Yes, my lady.” He made a show of studying the dirt.

  “You are absurd.” She laughed and sat back on her heels. “And how rude of me. I shouldn’t take up any more of your time, Your Grace. Please—go on with your”—she waved her free hand around—“explorations.”