CHAPTER 13

IF HE HAD FELT AN ATTRACTION before, he was now quickly becoming completely infatuated with the duchess. And even seeing the danger he should avoid, he kept running straight into it. He was more resolved than ever to see the bargain through.

The next day, he met her at the stables as usual. But this time, he came prepared. He had packed a picnic and hoped she wasn't too busy today to enjoy an alfresco breakfast with him. She arrived at the same time as usual, showing no surprise at finding him there already waiting for her. Good. Let her become accustomed to his presence.

This time, when he put his hands on her waist to lift her onto the sidesaddle, she didn't tense. With perfect aplomb, she placed her palms on his shoulders, anticipating his boost. Then allowed him to help her arrange her skirt. It was a small sign of ease around him, but it pleased him immensely.

"I hope your duties will allow for a leisurely déjeuner sur l'herbe today," he said as they cantered out of the stable yard.

"A breakfast picnic? What a novel idea. As it happens, I have no duties today. I was planning just a pleasure ride."

That word, ‘pleasure' coming from her lips, did something to his insides. Oh, darling, you have no idea how much I want to show you pleasure. All in good time. For now, progress was being made, and that was enough.

"Excellent. You are in charge of finding a suitable spot, since you know the estate and I don't."

"Hmm, let's see," she said, biting her lower lip, an action that inspired thoughts of biting that plump lip himself, then soothing it with his tongue. "Oh, I know the perfect spot! There's this wonderful meadow. It's protected on all sides by hills and woodlands, so flowers bloom well into autumn. Now in November, it should be carpeted with Michaelmas Daisies and Red Campion. A veritable sea of purple. There's also a brook that bubbles through it. I haven't been to this place in ages."

"Sounds heavenly. Lead us there, Duchess."

"It is a little ways away. It will take us half an hour to get there," she warned.

"No matter. I have nowhere else to be today. You?"

"No, I suppose not. And the weather promises a splendid day. Fine then. Onwards to Elysian Pasture!" she said as she spurred her horse into an easy gallop.

"Elysian Pasture?" he asked, not hiding his amusement as he came up next to her.

She threw back her head and laughed. A joyful, carefree laugh that curled around his heart.

"A rather flamboyant name that some Stanhope ancestor bestowed on the field. No doubt the meadow has been the scene of bucolic entertainments for centuries now."

"Have you ever hosted a fete there?"

"No. I have thought about it, but the distance from the house presents a logistical challenge. And we have another, more convenient spot near the house, by the lake. But I've always thought it would be a splendid place to have a picnic."

"I'm honored to be the first you share it with."

She threw him an abashed look, a mix of innocence and bravado. He could spend his whole life discovering every one of her facets. But then her gaze snapped forward once again as she coaxed more speed from her light-footed mare. He kept up with her easily, noting she was a splendid rider. Her seat was elegant and confident, and she handled her mare with the perfect mixture of gentleness and assertiveness. Another thing to admire about her.

She had not exaggerated the beauty of the meadow. If anything, words did not do justice to the place. Even early in November, a showy display of purple flowers covered the ground, forming swirls and drifts of different colors that swayed on the gentle breeze. Here and there, a stalwart tree provided dappled shade.

After loosely tying the horses by the brook so they could graze and drink, they set up their blanket in the shade of a great oak and set to unpack the saddlebags.

"This smells delicious," she said, glancing at him with such unadulterated joy that it made his heart somersault.

"I asked the kitchen to pack a full breakfast, and they took the task to heart," he answered with a smile. "They assembled enough food to feed ten people."

There were rolls, still warm from the oven, a pot of butter and another of marmalade, slices of ham and cheese, and a big ceramic jug of still steamy coffee liberally laced with cream and sugar.

They worked together in perfect harmony to prepare the feast, then settled to enjoy the food. The morning was chilly, but as the sun continued to rise, gilding the tops of the trees and evaporating the dew, the temperature became milder. The hot coffee was bracing, warming his body from the inside.

"I hope you are not cold. In my enthusiasm for organizing a picnic, I forgot early mornings are a bit raw this time of year."

"Not at all. In order to ride as early as I do, my riding habits have to provide warmth. And this coffee does an excellent job of warming my insides."

"I'm relieved to hear it. Why do you like riding so early, despite the cold?"

"I don't know. The world is quieter, and I like to see the sun as it rises. It symbolizes the promise of a new beginning, of projects to undertake, dreams to plan."

He smiled. Who knew his practical duchess had a romantic bend?

"And you? Why do you ride so early? Or are you only doing it to shadow me while at Stanhope Abbey?"

"No, I always do it." He shrugged, selecting a roll and spreading butter on it. "I wake up early, and it is a time I can carve out for myself. An enchanted hour before I have to deal with the troubles and tribulations of the day."

She paused before saying in a contemplative way, "I am aware of the troubles you face with your estate."

"Ah, yes. My estate. A legacy I don't deserve, in light of recent revelations."

"If you don't deserve your legacy, does that mean the child we may have will not deserve to be the next duke?" she asked quietly.

His head snapped up to meet her uncertain eyes. Eyes full of doubts and vulnerability.

"No. Our child will be the duke's blood descendant. And wanted. I was neither."

"Don't think like that. At least you are trying to save the estate. To be honest, other than the title, you inherited nothing of value. Anything you make of your estate will be through your own effort, and therefore, you deserve it."

"Thank you for your words, Duchess. But not even that is true. If I manage to save the estate, it will be thanks to the duke, not my own efforts."

God, how it galled him to admit that. But it was true, and she probably knew it. She was well aware of the terms of this deal. She nodded, confirming she knew.

"Harold told me he holds the mortgages to your properties, and he intends to return them to you. It is no more than he owes you. And not for this bargain," she added imperiously, when he would have interrupted. "He owes you because you are his son, and he has done precious little for you your whole life. But, Brentworth, restoring an estate takes a lot more than just money. It requires hard work, dedication, and cunning. I should know. Yes, he might provide the capital you need, but the effort will come from you. It is my hope that his overdue help will lessen your burdens."

"Thank you," he replied, touched by her belief in him. "Tell me, does it bother you that a bastard will sire your child?"

She stared at him for a few heartbeats. He almost squirmed under her intense gaze.

"Why would that bother me? You are not to blame for the sins of your parents. And from what I've heard of the previous earl, you are much better off not being his offspring."

His smile was bitter this time. "That is an excellent point. But enough about me. You know more about me than I know about you, and I want to remedy that circumstance. Tell me about you."

"Me? There's nothing interesting to tell about me. I have had a very ordinary life."

"I'm sure that's not true. Tell me about your family. Do you have siblings?"

"Yes. An older brother and a younger sister."

"Did you get along well with them?"

"Oh, yes. The three of us were close."

"And your parents? You are the daughter of a viscount, are you not?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about your parents. Did you have a happy childhood?"

She shrugged. "Happy enough. My father never had too much time for his daughters. His only concern was to marry us off as quickly and as well as he could. My mother is very conventional. Her main purpose in life was to make sure my sister and I turned out to be perfect ladies. I don't know if we ever met her standards."

He chuckled, thinking of her unconventional aptitude for managing an estate. "But it must have pleased her that you made such an excellent match. You are a duchess."

She smirked. "Of course. She flaunts my title shamelessly."

"Did they force you to marry the duke?"

She tilted her head. A tiny, endearing gesture he had come to recognize as pondering. "Not directly. But my other suitor was my husband's nephew. He was young and handsome. And while courting me, he even pretended to be charming. But despite all that, there was something about him that repelled me at a deep level. I can't explain it, but he disturbed me. When the duke offered for me, and I got to meet him, I felt comforted by his kind manner. I was not in love with him, but unlike his nephew, he made me feel safe. Cherished. I have come to love him over the years."

"I see."

He turned to look out over the field. Even though he knew the truth about her marriage, he couldn't prevent a stab of jealousy over her declaration of love. Absurd, of course. But damn if he didn't want that love for himself.