Duke Herheart Final Page 10

  “Yes but they’re scraggly and yours are glorious. I almost can smell them from here.”

  Michael’s heart had begun racing the moment her footsteps had neared. He could not stop feeling over again the rush of passion she elicited from him last night in his study. No one had ever brought him to climax in such an exciting and openly uninhibited fashion and fortunately learning that she was not a virgin had not unnerved him as it might have. He did not believe she was a loose woman but she definitely was comfortable with showing affection. He could cultivate her passion, or maybe more likely she would cultivate his and they could have a very fulfilling time in the marriage bed.

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  “Are you to going to withdraw to the gardens then?” he asked his sister.

  “I believe we shall, big brother. Kathryn can ask all of her questions and I will try to answer with reasonable intelligence. It has been several years since I worked in the garden.”

  “Then maybe the two of you will be quite companionable.”

  * * * *

  Kathryn had watched for any sign that things between Michael and her had changed and she saw nothing. The fact he showed no recognition seemed quite odd to her but maybe he was just very good at hiding behind his mask in front of others. He had smiled welcomingly as always. Certainly in front of Cassandra was not the time to discuss last night. “Shall we, Lady Cassandra?” “Brother, you will excuse us?” she asked rising.

  “Ladies.”

  When they stepped onto the flags from the French doors in the parlor, Kathryn turned to survey the windows that overlooked the gardens. She thought she saw the one that was Michael’s study and realized he’d be sitting at his desk just feet from where they walked. She would be sure to move further into the garden if she touched on the subject of the elder Stafford sibling. “So I wanted to ask you a mistress question. Can I just jump into that?”

  “Yes, although I am certainly not an expert on mistresses, just my own personal mistress experience mind you.” She grimaced and Kathryn had the courtesy to be chagrined.

  “No, but this is general knowledge building. What the heck do men need so much sex for that they actually pay the living expenses of a woman to have her at their beck and call…when they have the urge?”

  “It’s just the done thing. I guess their animal natures have to rut around every day and the only way to accomplish it is with a…whore.”

  “But why is it okay? I mean, most of those men go on to marry and their wives what…just marry them anyway?”

  “What do you mean exactly?” Cassandra asked Kathryn.

  “I mean, I cannot imagine marrying a man who had kept a mistress.

  It just shows such a lack of self control and it’s infidelity, Cassandra. It just does not seem like it should be acceptable and there are so many reasons I couldn’t tolerate it. First, I would wonder whether I was ever enough for him or if he was going to fall right back into that life style.

  Second, I would never know if he had had a child with her or loved her and third, oh my gosh…how do you walk around in polite society not knowing if you’re going to run into her?”

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  “Well, you’ve obviously touched on all of the subjects most dear to my heart when discussing mistresses. I think you must actually have a relationship with a man before marrying him, know he is not the type to keep a mistress and assure yourself that you have engaged his affections.

  It’s not the way of our society but since you’re so passionate about it, I think you would want to limit yourself to someone who you could trust, who hadn’t kept anyone.”

  “I might as well ask since I’m here and we’re on the subject. Has your brother had mistresses?”

  “Kathryn, I am so glad you asked me that. I’m just going to tell you that I hope you have engaged my brother’s affections. I haven’t seen you together except just now at breakfast and he could not keep his eyes off of you. And, no, I don’t think he’s ever had a mistress. He’s spent too much time away in the army. I think…well…”

  “You think he saw the men in your family set a bad example?”

  “Yes, exactly. You’re perceptive. I think just to not be like them—

  our father and our brother—who were notorious womanizers and my husband as well. Michael is better than that.”

  “It’s good to know. Not that it means anything, I was just…wondering.”

  “He did not love her, you know.” Kathryn’s pensive mood had clearly not been lost on Cassandra. She was finding her new friend to be quite direct and rather readable. “He did it out of duty and honor because she was ruined.”

  “You are speaking about your brother’s late wife?”

  “I am. I think he would have been glad to have the baby and very likely he figured he might not live to be married long. He made her respectable and if he died, she would go on with her life.”

  “Do you really think he thought about maybe not living so marrying her wouldn’t be any sort of sacrifice?” Kathryn asked incredulously.

  “Yes, I do. Michael is very serious and he never went off thinking he was a happy warrior. He went off knowing soldiers die. It was duty and service and death was a part of it.”

  “He sounded…noble.”

  “He was. He is.”

  All of this personal talk was making Kathryn uncomfortable. “Let’s change the subject from mistresses and dying and talk about more fun things. If you don’t teach me something about roses, we’ll have to admit we sneaked out here to talk about your brother.”

  “Yes, well roses…”

  * * * *

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  “Where is this paragon of…?”

  Aunt Agatha was as formidable a matron as any on the ton but she was his favorite relation—nay the only relation Michael liked—on his father’s side. She had been widowed in her 40s, too old to secure another well-placed marriage but too young to hide away in widow’s weeds. So she had been a regular visitor with his mother when he was growing up and she and Cassandra had always been close until Cassandra’s marriage. He thought there may have been a lover at one time but now she was simply Aunt Agatha, matron of the ton.

  When he stepped aside from the window, her words trailed off. “My Cassandra,” she whispered. As she moved closer to the window, he watched her gaze lovingly on her favorite niece who was laughing and walking in the garden on the arm of the attractive stranger he had found quite by chance.

  “She’s laughing.” She turned toward him with awe and an unusual hush in her voice he did not recognize.

  “Yes. They’ve been out there for over an hour strolling and then sitting on the bench. I think Miss Ragland is regaling Cassandra with stories because there has been much laughter and gesturing and even some tears. They were supposed to be discussing the roses but I don’t think there’s been much of that.” He tried to disguise it but when her eyes flared, he knew Agatha had heard the fondness in his voice.

  Well, well, we might have discovered our new Duchess. “You have gotten her a suitable maid, I see,” Agatha commented pointedly. “Yes, her maid has done wonders with her hair. Now I am working on dresses and shoes.” Her eyebrows shot up and she looked her question. “Calm down. Not me personally, the staff. We are having to do it all clandestinely as she seems unwilling to accept any generosity. All of the sneaking feels much like those years avoiding Boney and his minions.”

  He watched Agatha look back out the window as Kathryn turned toward it.

  “She is bronze, Michael!”

  “She calls it a tan.”

  “That is no color of tan I have ever seen. She’s out there without out a bonnet. She’ll freckle something awful.”

  “She already has freckles. A lot of them.”

  A look of horror bloomed on Agatha’s face. “But don’t worry, the maid covered them last night for di
nner,” he said with a chuckle. Her expression relaxed into a pinched grin as she watched the two women continue their exchange.

  “She’s rather expressive and her smile seems to be quite…”

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  “What, Aunt? You have never minced words.”

  “Infectious. There, are you happy?” She snorted but he knew she was giving her approval. It was high praise from Aggie.

  “Did you expect horns, a snout, or fire-breathing maybe?” When she didn’t answer immediately… “You did. You expected her to be an uncouth freak or an antidote. Surely you know me better than that.”

  “You married that horrible Catherine what’s-her-name.”

  “That was a mistake.”

  “Yes. You will get it right this time. I will help,” she said with relish.

  With that it was settled. Kathryn Ragland was well and approved by one of the ton’s highest sticklers. Now all he had to do was convince Kathryn herself she was capable of running his households. He would also help her find her family, train her without her knowledge for introduction to the ton, convince her to accept a new wardrobe and then avoid his own temper that he knew would erupt as soon as she graced her first ballroom when his peers got one good look at her. It was enough to bring on a headache. She would be an original, intelligent, charming, sparkling, and refreshing; men would fall at her feet. Of that there was no doubt.

  But she was his. Of that there was no question.

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  Chapter Eight

  Michael struggled to concentrate on the small mountain of paperwork on his desk. His steward, Smithers, had faithfully sorted the bills, invitations, letters, and complaints into four ordered stacks. And then he had prepared the dreaded “all others” stack. Michael hated that particular pile of paper with a vengeance because it always held something to take hours of his time. Today he didn’t have any to spare, he wanted to take Kathryn on a late afternoon ride just before tea.

  He could still hear the low murmur of the voices of his two favorite ladies enjoying his gardens as he contemplated stealing one of them away. They giggled some but seemed to be trying genuinely to concentrate on roses; at least he thought so when he stole another glance.

  Returning to the dreaded stack, he found the first letter to be bearing some well-anticipated good news from his man of business.

  Just as he suspected, it contained a letter noting the purchase of a 2,000 pound note from one Lord Sebastian Drake, Baron of Worley, dated April 26, 1814 to one of London’s notorious gamesters. Matthew Drake’s brother had gambled heavily and run the estate into near destitution while the younger Drake was off making a name for himself in the cavalry and routing Napoleon Bonaparte from Belgium.

  Indeed, because of his drunken, slovenly, wastrel brother, Matthew was now up the River Tick with nary a way to rescue his estate.

  Knowing that the house had been stripped of all its valuables and that there was but one horse in the stable, Michael had been inquiring from those in business circles who knew as to the status of the estate and found it to be heavily leveraged. Indeed, if one person were to buy up the vowels and hold them, he would own the land. Michael intended to be that landowner, with the express purpose of helping Matthew come about and regain his family’s status.

  Of course, he could not easily get away with buying all of Matthew’s spendthrift’s brother’s debt without someone alerting Matthew, so he enlisted Julian Thornton’s and Colin Hamilton’s help.

  Among the three of them, they would purchase the debt so that no one other individual could own a large enough share to take away Worley from Matthew. He had estimated the debts to be about 50,000 pounds and he was prepared to invest 20,000 or more if needed and the other two would do the same.

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  In exchange, because Matthew would surely figure out their charity, they would help him set up a stud. Matthew’s dream from the time they had all been in short coats had been to breed horses and he had the most beautiful land for it. Matthew had few tenants so there was no one to kick off of a farm in place of the track and truly, there was no one more enamored or more competent with horses than Matthew. Even Michael was itching to get his hands on some gorgeous horseflesh closer to home.

  After he and the others received a few more notices like the one he got today, they would propose the idea of the stud partnership to Matthew.

  Michael was prepared for him to rail at them, but he had an argument that not even the redoubtable hero of Waterloo could argue…they all wanted a stud and they were doing this to purchase the few acres of his farm that would allow it. He could run the stud or not and if he did, he could pay off the debt. Michael was convinced that Matthew would agree with them in the end. He loved Worley enough that his pride could be overcome.

  The other stack that held the mildest interest to him was the pile of invitations from some of London’s most illustrious hostesses. One day soon, Michael would have to take Kathryn to town and let her make her bow but he also needed to provide for her protection. Unleashing the wolves on her now was unacceptable.

  “You are a wonderful teacher Cassandra.” Kathryn’s voice drifted to him from the hallway and pulled him from his planning. He heard his sister laugh and slip off upstairs.

  He joined her in the hall. “Kathryn, I was wondering if you would be interested in another riding lesson this afternoon,” Michael asked expectantly.

  She turned her lovely flushed face to him, gave that heart-melting smile, and then winked at him. The bloody minx winked! “Actually Captain, I was wondering if I could go for a run. It’s been too many days for me and I need to pump my legs. Would you accompany me so I don’t get lost?”

  “A run, Kathryn?”

  “You know, speedier than a walk, done on two legs, by a human?”

  He raised one eyebrow at her. “I know what running is but what do you mean by it?”

  “I mean to put on some comfortable shoes and start running down the lane until we’ve gone a couple of miles then turn around. It’s very good for me. It’s how I stay in shape.”

  Ahhh, there’s the explanation for the sleekly muscled thighs and calves. “While I understand your request, it is not done to go running 76

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  around the countryside,” Michael stated flatly.

  Kathryn was undeterred. “Is this not your land? Can we stay within your property? Certainly your staff would not question your judgment.”

  “You are no doubt correct that they will not question me but that does not mean they will approve.”

  “Please,” she asked simply.

  As a soldier, Michael knew when he was beaten. “Certainly. Shall we meet back here in thirty minutes? I just have a few more things to wrap up.” In fact, he had dozens more items to wrap up. There were still the multiple well-organized piles that he had attacked at 4:00 a.m. before the household awoke, still sitting only partially attended. But getting the early start on business had left precious daylight hours for a much anticipated afternoon adventure with Kathryn. Michael had no idea what to expect from running with her but he very much wanted to be able to accept Kathryn’s challenge.

  * * * *

  When Kathryn gained the hall, she saw Michael standing by the banister dressed as the most charming country gentleman wearing a loose linen shirt that sported untied pull strings tucked into some type of knee length breeches that were not as tight fitting as his riding pants. He was terribly appealing. “Your ankle boots don’t look as well worn as mine. I hope you will not be miserable very soon.” Kathryn had borrowed a pair of ladies work shoes from Ellie that were just big enough that she could wear the socks Ellie had produced, with some searching, to protect her feet from rubbing. The two of them together had been quite ingenious she thought. It helped having the benefit of two hundred years of sports t
echnology advancements to draw on, but what she wouldn’t give right now for her well-worn pair of running shoes and a tight fitting jogbra. “But Kathryn, this is to be running on the hard packed ground so I shall be well protected from offending stones or turning my ankle in rabbit holes.”

  “Okay, I can’t argue with that but are your socks thick enough to protect your feet from blistering?”

  “My stockings should suit admirably. As for my poor feet, I have spent the better part of the last five years traipsing all over the Continent.

  I suspect my feet are far past the sensibilities for a short run.”

  “So let’s walk outside and you can tell me which way we are going while we stretch a little.”

  “I would like to see what type of stretching you have in mind.” He said it with an almost seductive purr in his voice.

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  the legs involves lots of leaning over at the waist.”

  “Then by all means, lead on!” She saw the wicked gleam and wondered if he realized he was flirting.

  The day was warm but the sun was not high. It was perfect May weather this afternoon to work up a sweat. “Lean over at the waist and touch your toes. Count one Mississippi and two Mississippi to twenty,”

  Kathryn ordered.

  “What’s Mississippi?”

  “A really fun word to count seconds with. We could say one Herefordshire, two Herefordshire if that would work better for you.

  You’re not stretching,” she chided.

  “I think I like your fun word better.” Michael was not bent as far as she.

  “Now, lunge with the left and stay in the deep bend for the same count of twenty, then we’ll do the other leg.” Kathryn was struggling not to laugh at his attempts to stretch. Michael was a large man.