Chapter 13

CHAPTER13

The Duke felt like he had gotten lost in a fiery haze the moment Jane started blotting out the stubborn stain. All the gentlemanly qualities in him urged him to stop her from getting so close to him, but the animal inside of him won over. He barely even noticed it when she pulled away, shocked at what she had done, how she wasn’t thinking at all, and merely jumped to do what someone did when they spilled tea on clothes.

He couldn’t stop smirking. He had no idea why. The animal inside of him had calmed down, barely, but at least it was under control. To be quite honest, he was shocked at the amount of desire he felt instantly as it took over him fully without leaving a shred of common sense in him. That was the effect she had on him. It both thrilled him and terrified him at the same time.

He glanced at the house where Jane had just disappeared off to. He was certain that he handled this the wrong way. If there was a right way to handle this, that is. Once again, he smiled. The entire situation was so absolutely amusing, and she was so utterly endearing that he couldn’t stop smiling and thinking about her flushed cheeks. He knew that he had to be the first one to break this uncomfortable silence that was surely to follow if they left it at this, and he knew exactly what would break the ice.

He walked back into the house and headed straight for her chamber. He stopped in front of the door, clearing his throat silently. The wet spot on his trousers had gotten cold, but he didn’t care about that right now. Jane obviously felt ashamed of what she had done, and he wanted to show her that she needn’t feel that way at all. He lifted his hand and knocked.

He listened, but there was no commotion inside the room which was what he expected to hear. Nothing.

So, he knocked again. Louder. Proving that he would not be sent away before she opened the door, and he couldn’t imagine her being anywhere else in that distraught state.

“What is it?” he finally heard her say. The tone of her voice, as dignified as she could make it, made him smile.

“Why don’t you open the door, Jane?” he suggested softly.

“I am perfectly fine here, thank you,” she told him, stubbornly. Even now, she was endeavoring to have the upper hand in this situation which started off with him being in control. How easily she could make that switch. “If you have something to say, you may say it through the door. I hear you perfectly well.”

He almost chuckled aloud at these words. He was absolutely certain of one thing now. Never had he met a more persistent, more endearing, and more obstinate creature than his wife.

“About what happened–” he started then she cut him off.

“What about it?” she demanded hotly. He could imagine her all flushed in the cheeks, her eyes wide and ferocious.

“I know you feel… embarrassed at what happened,” he tried to choose his words carefully so as not to make her completely pull away from him. “I just wanted to tell you there is no need for that.” He paused, waiting for her to reply.

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the door. At least, she was still there, still listening. That made him strangely hopeful. So, he continued.

“I actually thought your reaction was… sweet,” he admitted, realizing that being kind at a situation like this was exactly what was expected of him. “I didn’t think of it as something… inappropriate.”

All right, this one was a lie. A big lie. But she didn’t know that, and she didn’t need to know that.

“You didn’t?” she spoke again but with a different tone of voice. He could immediately tell that there was a shift in her reasoning. She might not have believed his words just yet, but she wanted to believe them. She wanted to be relieved of this burdensome sensation of shame and guilt that she reacted inappropriately.

“Of course not,” he assured her, stepping closer to the door, touching it with the tips of his fingers. He imagined her on the other end, touching the same surface. “I think it’s a silly thing to even discuss, let alone argue over.”

“Are we arguing?” she suddenly asked.

He shrugged. “It sure feels that way.”

He was not in the habit of apologizing when he didn’t feel that he did something wrong. Only in this case, neither of them did anything wrong, and still, he was the one who ran after her. He had to admit that he felt guilty… for so many things, even enjoying that blotting scene a little too much. That was what he was guilty of, and that was why he needed to be the one standing in front of her door, telling her it would be all right.

He waited for a moment, but there was no response. Just when he thought that he lost her, when he was ready to provide her with the peace she so wished for, he heard the door open… only a little, so he could see her face peeping through. Her eyes were just as he imagined them, wide and untamed, demanding more of him than he was willing to give.

“This isn’t an argument,” she corrected him.

“It’s not?” he asked, unable to resist smiling at what he had just achieved.

“No,” she confirmed. “When we argue, you’ll know it.”

“All right.” He laughed aloud this time. She didn’t, but he could see that she was trying to suppress a smile. “How about you come out to the garden, so we can finish that tea? I was hoping to discuss the brewery with you as well.”

“With… me?” she asked, sounding surprised, pressing her hand to her chest as if in an effort to make sure that she was herself and no one else.

“Well, of course you, silly,” he said, more and more amused with this day’s developments. He wondered if she would correct him when calling her endearingly silly, but she either liked it or chose to ignore it. In either case, he got away with it. “Half of it is yours. I want to hear what sort of ideas you may have.”

“I have ideas,” she quickly jumped, swinging the door open.

“I am certain that you do,” he nodded, still smirking.

“But we can’t go now,” she shook her head.

He froze. “Why not?” Did he miss something?

“You have to change your trousers,” she pointed at his lap from a safe distance.

“Oh,” he chuckled, nodding in approval. “Consider it done.”

In fifteen minutes, they were back in the garden, seated opposite each other with a fresh batch of tea already made and Leo wearing a new pair of trousers. All was right with the worlds… or so he thought. Jane wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t all that grave either. She seemed to be pondering something. Ideas?

“About the brewery…” She was the first to continue the conversation they started.

“Yes?” he nodded, leaning closer to her, so he could focus on her fully. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She looked at him in a way she never did before, in a way he could never hope that she would ever look at him, judging from the way they reached the position in life where they were at now. He was certain that in a way, she felt trapped. She was forced into this. And he enjoyed having her around far more than he was willing to admit. Yet another thing to feel guilty about.

“We could make the bottles look nicer,” she suggested.

“That is a very good idea,” he nodded, thinking about what she just said.

“You know, make a nice label,” she continued. “Something that would draw the people’s attention.”

“I see,” he nodded again.

“I actually have a notebook with a few designs I could show you,” she added a little shyly.

“You do?” he asked, surprised. He had to admit that he wasn’t expecting her to say that.

“Yes,” she smiled.

It was a smile he had rarely seen in a woman. A smile of pride, a smile belonging to someone who enjoyed what they did and knew that they did it well. That feeling was contagious.

“I would love to see them,” he said earnestly.

“Let me fetch them,” she jumped up from her chair, but he stopped her immediately. “Wait a moment.”

She clouded up immediately, and he almost bit his tongue. But this was something he wanted to share with her as well. It was important that she agreed, and that she would join him.

“Lord and Lady Chatterley are organizing a ball in a fortnight,” he started, expecting her to sit down, but she didn’t. “I would like it if we could attend it.”

“Together?” she asked, her brows knitting. He couldn’t tell if she thought it was generally a bad idea, or she simply didn’t wish to accompany him.

“Well… of course, together,” he confirmed with a slight nod, feeling equally confused. What he wanted to ask of her next made him even more perplexed regarding her reaction.

“I suppose we could,” she agreed.

“That isn’t all,” he added, scratching the back of his head. This would be the tricky part, getting her to agree with this.

“No?” she asked. “What else is there?”

“The love part,” he replied as if that was all self-explanatory.

“The what part?” She frowned this time, and even through her discomfort and utter lack of understanding what he was referring to, it was obvious that they both enjoyed this nonsensical conversation.

“Love,” he said the word which never meant much to him. It meant very little to him now as well, and yet, just allowing it to roll off of his lips strengthened it somehow. “We are newlyweds, and as such, we ought to be very much in love with each other. I think you can agree with that.”

“All right,” she agreed, sounding suspicious. “We ought to. But we are not.”

“Yes, that is indeed correct,” he nodded officially, clearing his throat a little as he spoke, feeling as if his mouth was drier than the Sahara. “But you see, we are running a business. The brewery business. Your idea of prettifying the bottles was splendid. My idea is to use our… love story to sell wine which is, after all, the drink of lovers.”

If she understood what he was aiming for, she didn’t show it. She let him squirm a little more, like a fish on a hook.

“I suppose what I am trying to say here is that we should, for the sake of the brewery of course, nothing else, attend that ball and pretend as if we are the most in love couple London has ever seen.” When he finally said those words, he felt as if a huge burden was lifted off his back. Even if she didn’t agree, at least his offer was out there, out of his mind.

She looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time, and he looked familiar. She tried to identify him, see through him, find out something about him that he himself didn’t want her to know. That was her gaze as she stared at him.

“How do you suggest we do that?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity. Was there a little bit of playfulness as well? He dared not hope.

He shrugged. “We dance,” he suggested. “We hold hands. We look at each other like lovers do.”

“How is that?” she asked, and at this point, he couldn’t tell if she was teasing him. Once again, she turned the tables on him, and she was in control of this conversation.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asked, trying to regain control. “If you have, just remember how you looked at that gentleman, and you shall know.”

He didn’t want her to reply to this. He didn’t want to know whether she had been in love with someone else before or not. That knowledge was unnecessary.

“All right,” she smiled. “We can do that. Now… would you like to see my designs?”

Without waiting to hear his reply, she walked past him and headed towards the house, leaving him to the tempest that was his own mind and his beating heart. He had no idea what to think of this. The only thing that mattered was that she agreed. She would play the role of a wife in love. Their brewery would benefit from it greatly, he was certain of that.

But… who else would benefit from it? That was a question he knew the answer to, only he refused to acknowledge it.