Page 29 of Good Duke Gone Hard

“My mother is still around, somewhere.”

“All the more fun,” Jonathan’s eyes gleamed as he pushed himself forward in his chair, only inches from her torso.

“Fun or…folly?” Margaret exclaimed the last word as she twirled around and ran for the door, just out of his grasp.

She made it two paces from the door before he was behind her with his forearm belted around her waist. She could feel the rapid movement of his chest against her back and the warm puffs of breath on her neck. Her own breathing was in doubletime to his, and she unconsciously separated her legs to allow him to slide his leg between hers. Now she could feel the solid, sheer muscle pulsating against her groin as she eased down onto him.

She ached for him to tear her dress off her shoulders and rip open her corset to suckle her breasts. But this was not the place.

“Jonathan,” her hoarse voice mustered. “My bedchambers. Now.”

She grabbed his forearm, unleashed herself, and ran out the door with no idea how to make this impulsive suggestion work.

Chapter 11

MARGARETDIDN’TMAKEITback to her bedchambers. She didn’t make it hardly twenty paces until she was waylaid by her mother calling her. Apparently she was in dire need of Margaret’s help for the house party she was hosting for the week.

“Margaret, you nearly bowled over me. What is the rush?” her mother blew some stray hairs away with a puff of air. Her mother looked a tad disheveled. She was never disheveled. Every hair had a place and knew it. Margaret’s lips parted to speak but were interrupted by her mother. “Oh nevermind, I’m glad you nearly ran into me. I need your help. I was just on my way to find you.”

Steadying her heart rate and her voice, Margaret aimed for polite curiosity, “What do you need me for?” It came out a bit more mildly ruffled than she intended.

Her mother was certainly distracted, for she didn’t perceive the peculiar tone. “Come. We have some preparations to make for the guests' arrival and dinner this evening.” She put her arm through Margaret’s and led her to the kitchen to what Margaret could only imagine would be for discussions on the evening’s menu. They hadn’t much time left before the meal, so Margaret was largely decided that the menu wasn’t capable of many changes; however, seeing her mother in even somewhat disarray charged her to provide any assistance she could.

As they strolled toward the kitchen, Margaret heard her mother muttering about cold meats and fish stew. Then, more audibly, she deciphered something about how, “...they are all coming this evening.”

“Forgive me mother, but it must have slipped my mind. Who is all coming this evening?”

“Our regular guests. The Earl of Winchester and his family. Colonel Hastford.”

“And Dr. Walker.”

“And Dr. Walker,” her mother mindlessly echoed. Then she tugged on Margaret’s arm and they jolted to a stop. “Dr. Walker?”

“Yes, he arrived earlier this morning.”

“Well, then I must ensure we set an extra plate.” The dowager duchess dropped her jaw and brought her fingers over her mouth. “Oh dear, and I forgot your cousin was coming to stay as well.”

“Which one?”

“Bella.”

Margaret gasped. “Truly?” Bella was Margaret’s favorite cousin, a free-spirited-down-to-earth woman she could trust with anything.

Her mother, not one to be exasperated, exhaled slowly, “Yes, truly.”

The confirmed information gave Margaret cause to twirl and embrace her mother. “It’s been too long!”

“It’s probably been only several weeks. I’m sure she was at Gregory’s wedding.”

“Yes, well that’s several weeks too long. Oh! She’ll just love what’s growing in the orangery since her last visit.” Margaret released a short squeal.

Her mother chided her, “Really, dear. Must you?”

“I must.” Margaret clapped her hands together. “Now let’s go plan this dinner.”

After negotiating with Cook for a meager ten minutes, only to have Margaret’s earlier suspicions confirmed, it was with great concession and no small amount of disappointment that the dowager duchess agreed to the fact that the menu indeed could not be altered too drastically. The plate settings, however, were still up for discussion.

At that time Margaret had slipped away in fanciful hope Jonathan was waiting for her. He was not.

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