Dukes By the Dozen

THE LAST THING MEG EXPECTED, after her performance, was to be surrounded by all the guests and be gushed over as she was. It took quite some time to thank them all. Long enough for her to recover from her embarrassment at the fuss they made. When it was over, she was exceedingly warm, thirsty, and tired. Certainly ready to escape, although Hisdick, Mattingly, and St. Clare seemed inclined to follow her wherever she went.

Fortunately, there was one place they could not follow, so she headed to the water closet. She stayed there for a long time, until she was certain they were gone.

When she peeped out to find herself alone, she breathed a sigh of relief and vowed never to sing before a crowd again.

She knew that after the musicale, a tour of the conservatory was planned, so she didn’t head there. Rather she sneaked off to her favorite room in the house, the library.

It was quiet and dark and cool. Exactly what she needed.

Despite the business of the morning and the melee of the musicale, she’d been beset with one single thought.

That kiss from Jonathan.

It had dominated her mind since last night, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Jonathan wasn’t the kind of man to run around kissing girls all higgledy-piggledy. In fact, since Tessa, she doubted he’d even looked at another woman. Who would? Tessa had been a diamond of the first water.

But he had kissed her.

It had been the single most thrilling moment of her life.

And the most confusing.

She made her way through the darkened room to the window seat, where she loved to sit and read and, occasionally, look out at the drifts of snow covering the garden. She wondered what the garden might look like in spring, but she knew she would probably never find out. She certainly would never come to Sutton House again. At least, not after Jonathan married.

The thought depressed her.

“That is a fierce frown.”

His voice, in a dark rumble from the king’s chair by the fire, surprised her.

“Jonathan!” She huffed a laugh. “I was just thinking of you.”

Oh dear. Thank heavens he couldn’t see her flush in the shadows.

“Were you?” He stood and made his way over, then sat beside her, which was hardly wise. The window seat was not all that generous. As it was, his thigh touched hers; the propinquity scorched her and she edged away, but he, oblivious followed. “I was just thinking of you.”

His voice was playful and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“What were you thinking about?” Her performance, probably. “Did you like the aria?”

“I loved the aria. It’s my favorite, you know.”

“I didn’t know.” How could she? They’d never discussed the opera.

“Well, it is. And I adored the song you and the girls sang.”

“They are very talented.”

“Like their father, no doubt.” His smile was crooked.

“They sang it for Tessa.”

When she spoke her friend’s name, the mood shifted. It went from playful to sober. “I’m sure she appreciated it. But no. Those were not the things I was thinking of.”

He took her hand. His was warm. His gaze made her tremble.

“What-what were you thinking about?”

“How lovely you are.”

Her breath caught. She brushed back her hair. Swallowed. “I… Thank you.”

“All my friends are besotted, you know.”

“Are they?” She had to smile at that. “They’ve been following me like hungry pups.”

“I imagine they have been. You’ve…really won them over. No doubt a proposal is yours, if you so wish it.”

She quirked her head. “From which one?” Not that it mattered. None of them made her heart patter in the slightest.

He laughed. “All of them, I imagine.”

“Oh. Lovely.”

He leaned closer. Her pulse kicked up. “You don’t sound pleased.”

“Is it so wrong that I don’t want to marry any of them?” she asked.

“I shouldn’t think so,” he shrugged. “You will always have a home here, if you wish.”

Ah. “How kind.”

“Not in the least.” He moved closer. “Do you want to know what else I was thinking of?”

She met his gaze, held it. She thought she knew what he was going to say, and it made her breathless. “Yes.” A peep.

“I was thinking about that kiss last night. Do you remember it?”

She couldn’t hold back a laugh. Did she remember

it? “Honestly, Jonathan. How terrible do you think my memory is?”

“So you do remember?”

“Of course I do. It was…”

“What?” He came closer still. His breath caressed her cheek.

“It was wonderful,” she whispered. It was all she could manage.

“I thought it was wonderful too. I’d like to do it again.” Somewhere, in his words, was an inherent question, which was ridiculous. In response, she put her hand to his cheek. His day beard scratched her palm and she loved it. So she stroked.

“Ah,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning in to her touch. “Meg. My Meg.”

The words stunned her—my Meg—but she had no time to react, because he touched his lips to hers, ever so tenderly. She allowed him to kiss her like that for a long time, but when he deepened the kiss, her conscience smote her, and not for the first time.

Gently, slowly, she pulled away. “We shouldn’t.”

His brow furrowed. “Why ever not?”

“Someone might see.”

“I don’t care.”