Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alice & Duncan’s Country Estate

“ B arbara,” Alice gasped, opening her arms to hug her friend, “look at you! Why, you look like an entirely different person!”

Barbara did her best to keep the nervousness out of her laugh as she hugged her dear friend tightly to her. It had been too long since Alice and Duncan had disappeared on their honeymoon, and Barbara was most excited to have her back. It seemed like so much had changed in the few weeks the lovebirds had been gone, and she had no idea where to start.

“Barbara is trying to catch a husband!” Helena said excitedly, coming up behind Barbara to put her hands on her shoulders. “She has taken my fashion tips and bought new gowns! Is this one not utterly lovely?”

Barbara blushed as she stared down at the stylishly cut heather grey gown that adorned her figure.

Though they had not had another lesson since their… mutual oral exploration, more gowns, gloves, shoes, and other effects had begun to arrive at her house the day after. The very next morning, a young woman in a maid’s uniform named Milly stated that she was to be Barbara’s handmaid. With the extra help, Barbara had been able to style her hair into more delicate fashions and found braids to be her favorite. She now often decorated her twining hair with small flowers and the bejeweled pins gifted to her yet again by Ambrose.

“You? A husband? Surely you jest!” Alice exclaimed, her eyes wide.

When Barbara did not answer her right away, Alice and Helena began to squeal like little girls, and to her surprise, even practical, prim Lydia smirked at her playfully.

“Come, come, we must go to the tea table and discuss this,” Alice urged, looping her arm through Barbara’s.

Barbara let Alice pull her further into her personal library—the secret home to all of the filthy but delightful romance books that they all adored so much—and take her to a dessert and tea-laden table. Lydia and Helena quickly followed, and soon plates and cups were filled as chatter spilled from everyone but Barbara. She was able to confirm that she indeed was looking for a husband, but when Helena excitedly jumped in, she was all too happy to let her friend take over and surrender to her thoughts.

She had done her best to handle her moment of passion with Ambrose as maturely as possible, and she was sure that she convinced him that she was not bothered at all by their little act. He had seemed suspicious at times, but when she’d seen him get so riled at her last little comment, she knew she had succeeded.

Alone in the carriage, however, Barbara’s thoughts had unraveled. She had read of such intimate acts in books, yes, and she had kissed a man once as well. Ambrose had not been her first in that, and she was not ashamed of that. But what he had done between her legs with his tongue, what she had done between his legs with her tongue, it had created a hunger, a heat unlike any she had ever known.

While her success with suitors at balls and parties grew, so did her yearning to be tangled up with Ambrose again. She had seen the marks she’d left on his back with her fingernails—both the trails and half-moon marks where she’d dug in her nails to survive the force of her release—and it had filled her with glee.

Men like Ambrose marked women. But she? She had marked him , and it filled her with a satisfaction that made her blood heat and her arousal spark. Dreams of sweaty, panting, naked moments had plagued not only her dreams but every thought.

Even when she danced, which she did so often now, she compared the gentlemen’s touches to Ambrose’s at once. None of them ever had that hum, the soft, underlying static jolt that seemed to come from Ambrose’s palm. This, however, turned out to work in her favor. For, she discovered, once she was able to determine they did not feel like Ambrose, she could behave just as he had taught her. She had become charming, earnest, and had, even to her surprise, begun to understand the burdens that came with being a nobleman.

She had learned much. Grown much. And it was Ambrose who had helped her.

“Barbara can confirm this, can’t you, Barbara?”

“Oh, yes,” Barbara uttered, blinking as she looked around the table. Then, realizing she had no idea what she had just agreed to, she added, “Forgive me, what was it that you just said?”

Helena gave her an odd look. “Ambrose,” she repeated, “he has become utterly unbearable with his protective nature, would you not agree?”

“Oh, he is absolutely protective of you,” Barbara agreed, smiling warmly at her friend. “But I believe he has his reasons.”

It was not just Helena’s eyebrows that flew up in surprise, but Lydia’s and Alice’s as well.

“Since when do you take Ambrose’s side over mine?” Helena asked, cocking her head slightly as her brow furrowed.

Barbara laughed at this, but when her friends did not join her, she leaned forward and asked, “Come now, he is not all that bad, is he?”

“How can you ask that? You have been around him and me more than anyone as of late, you have seen how he oversteps,” Helena pointed out quickly.

“Every lady at this table is aware of how dangerous certain men can be,” Barbara countered. “Your brother is simply trying to make sure that danger does not befall you.”

“Well, if he would let me find a husband, then no danger would befall me, would it?” Helena argued in an annoyed tone. “What he needs to do is stop worrying about me and start worrying about himself. If he would just take a wife, he could have someone else to fawn over, and I could finally be free! But noooo, I must marry first. Yet, how am I to marry if he does not let a gentleman approach me? He is most annoying!”

Barbara felt butterflies flutter in her stomach at the mention of Ambrose taking a wife, and she sat up a little straighter in her chair. A question she knew she should not ask burned in her mind.

She should not ask. And an answer should not matter. Ambrose was nothing to her.

“I did not realize your brother was going to marry any time soon,” she found herself saying anyway. Then, as if to make it sound more casual, she quickly added, “I supposed he and Morgan would be among the fifty-year-olds by the time they choose to settle down.”

This earned her a laugh from her friends, and Barbara relaxed a little as Helena’s lips curled into a beaming smile at the opportunity to make japes at her older brother.

“With as many qualities as his future bride would need to possess in order to woo him, I would not be surprised if it did take him twenty or so years to find the right future duchess.” Helena laughed.

“Whatever do you mean?” Lydia asked with a laugh, saving Barbara the task.

Helena’s eyes sparkled as she leaned in to share the petty gossip, and Barbara was thankful that her anxious face looked no different than that of her friends.

“Ambrose is so particular about this future duchess of his,” Helena explained. “She is to be wealthy on her own, of good name and rank, younger but not too young. She must have her own mind but still want to bend to his will. Someone who is pleasant and pliant and willing to bend to his will at any time. Beautiful, of course. He always seems drawn to blondes, I have noticed.”

As the conversation carried on, Barbara thought of everything Helena had just listed and nearly laughed aloud when she realized how much she came up short. Ambrose, she suddenly remembered with a cold strike of reality, was not the man she would marry. He was only the man who would help her marry.

“Barbara, where do you keep going?” Helena asked.

“What?” Barbara mumbled, but she was already blushing. This was twice now that she had been caught not paying attention.

“We have moved on to room arrangements,” Alice explained, offering her a kind smile. “Ambrose, Duncan, and the other two musketeers are bringing some friends to kick off the visit, so we shall have a full house this week. I was asking if you would like to have your room next to mine or Helena’s?”

Yes, that was right. They had all traveled as a convoy to Duncan and Alice’s country estate, opting to be hosted there instead of heading toward their own. Barbara, of course, had no country estate of her own to stay in, but she usually found herself being taken in by Alice or Helena.

“I shall be fine wherever you put me,” she replied.

“Now let us move on to dinner,” Helena said excitedly, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Barbara. “My brother has invited some of his very fetching friends this evening, Barbara,” she revealed with a smirk. Then, turning to Alice, she asked, “Perhaps you could make sure our dear friend is seated next to the most eligible bachelor?”

“Yes, please do,” Barbara agreed quickly, pushing her thoughts of Ambrose from her mind. “I need all of the help I can get.”

“Ambrose, the Viscount Gerville has arrived.”

Ambrose heard Duncan’s voice at his side as he felt his friend’s hand clamp down on his shoulder, unknowingly smacking a still-healing bruise from his and Ezra’s boxing match. He hid his wince, shot his cue, and watched with calm, cool, confidence as the white ball knocked precisely into the solid green one. The green ball ricocheted toward the left wall of the table, clipping the solid red one on its way to the far-right pocket. The momentum of the hit sent the red ball spiraling backward, knocking into the yellow one before it swiveled into the middle-left pocket. A murmur of praise and even some applause rang out around the room as the yellow ball sunk successfully into the closest left pocket, perfecting the shot.

“Thank you, old boy,” Ambrose said to Duncan, handing him his cue as he smirked. “Make sure I do not lose while I go to talk to him, would you?”

“Sure, mate,” Duncan replied, mirroring his smirk for only a second before his brow furrowed. “But you and I should talk later.”

Ambrose nodded but said nothing before he continued to walk away. Whether it was about the fire, Ezra, or whatever else, it would have to wait.

“Lord Gerville,” he said pleasantly, greeting the handsome and mild-mannered twenty-seven-year-old viscount. “I am so grateful you chose to join us tonight.”

Kenneth Wood was tall, fairly well-built, and fairly well-handsome. His soft brown eyes were offset by sandy brown hair and goatee, and he dressed well enough for his status. From what Ambrose had dug up on the man, he knew that he was a calm, practical man who was, by all accounts, kind and polite, even to his servants, and did not have an addicted bone in his body.

The viscount did not drink, his spies had reported, save for a digestif once in a great while, did not smoke, and did not gamble in excess. His interest in sports events and animal races seemed to be genuine, and while he was moderately social, he did not seem to mind disappearing to his home in Gerville for months at a time.

The most interesting thing about the viscount, though, was his father’s Last Will and Testament. The former viscount had stated that all but one account—the largest—would be received immediately. However, in order to receive the final account, Kenneth had to marry. It was public knowledge, whispered among the ton with excitement for the last little while, that the viscount had even been able to obtain a rare, special license so that when he found his match, he could marry her immediately.

He was, by all facts and figures, perfect for Barbara.

“Your Grace, how could I pass up an invitation from someone such as you,” Gerville replied warmly, clasping Ambrose’s hand with enthusiasm. “It is truly an honor to be deemed impressive by the Duke of Larsen.”

While Ambrose did not particularly care for the overabundance of flattery, he smiled all the same and began to lead Gerville through the crowded entrance. The soiree Alice and Helena planned for the evening had gone from small and intimate to large and social, and now he silently wondered if he should have had his country estate prepared, after all.

“Please, call me Ambrose,” Ambrose told him as they found a quiet spot among the throng. “And I meant it. The way you were able to reduce the taxes for your people by the rates you bargained? It shows great character.”

Ambrose paused, plucking two glasses of champagne off a passing tray. In truth, he would very much rather not have Gerville call him by his name. Though he had deemed the man adequate for Barbara, that did not mean that he truly wanted to befriend him. In fact, he found maintaining his smile to be more difficult by the minute. However, there was a show to put on, and his ability to act was crucial.

“Then, please, Ambrose, you must call me Kenneth,” Gerville replied sincerely, raising his glass toward Ambrose.

Instead of following through with the toast, however, Ambrose drew his free hand up, holding up his pointer finger, as he pulled his glass away with the other.

“I must confess something to you, Kenneth, if we are to be this familiar,” Ambrose said in a convincingly apologetic tone. “I have invited you here for a purpose.”

Kenneth’s eyebrow rose, and he relaxed the hand holding his glass. “Shall we have an explanation, then?” he asked casually.

Ambrose only got as far as opening his mouth to speak before Kenneth’s attention was pulled by something behind him. He watched, amused, as the man’s jaw went slack, his eyes widened, and his pupils dilated. Curious as to what the man was looking at, Ambrose turned and felt a surge of hunger rip through him as he took in the sight of Barbara.

Her dark hair had been decorated with braids and gems that started from her temples to the back of her head, where her hair was then braided into a small knot to keep the rest of her long curls behind her back. Her silver gossamer gown reminded him of a frozen river in winter, hugging her figure to accentuate her hips and pert breasts. A simple single diamond necklace rested in the small dip at her throat, and at her ears hung long, single strands of small diamonds.

Ambrose’s body reacted strongly to the vision of this new Barbara—the woman he helped create. He had not seen her since the night of their last lesson, and his mind was flooded with the memories of it. It had been difficult to handle Helena’s reaction to him not allowing her out of the house until the trip to Alice’s and Duncan’s, but those memories were the exact reason why. He struggled to keep them at bay when Barbara was not present, but now with her in front of him, they raged hot and vivid in his mind.

“Who is that?” Kenneth asked, sounding as transfixed as Ambrose felt.

None of your damned business, a voice snarled in the back of Ambrose’s head.

“That is the lady I was just about to tell you about,” he answered instead.

Realizing he was no longer smiling, he forced his lips into a semblance of a smile and waved his arm toward Barbara.

“That is my dear little sister’s friend, Lady Barbara Hatcher,” he explained as he walked them toward her and Helena. “I was hoping to introduce the two of you.”

“Oh, yes,” Kenneth replied readily, his eyes still fixed on Barbara.

Something dark and feral crept up Ambrose’s spine as he watched Kenneth buzz with anticipation as they approached Barbara, but he pushed it aside. This was exactly what he wanted, after all. Was it not?