Page 8 of Good Duke Gone Hard

Dear Jonathan,

Or should I say, Your Grace, now? I can’t say I’m surprised. There has always been a steady, unassailable confidence in you.

I’m delighted to hear that you have learned more in regards to your identity. I believe you made the right choice in venturing to Chatsworth. Rest assured, more information will trickle in. Be patient.

Take each day, moment to moment. You never know when you might wake up.

Ironic, that. Considering Jonathan couldn’t even get to sleep this particular night. All he could think about was Margaret when what he should do was exert his energy uncovering his true identity. How had he ended up in Glaston hospital? Who was he before Glaston? Why had the nameChatsworthfinallyemerged from cloaked memories?

Jonathan sent a reply to Dr. Walker kindly thanking him for his support and inviting him to visit at Chatsworth and join the impending house party, if he was able.

It was a touch lonely at Chatsworth, so he welcomed a familary face. It was unfortunate that Gregory had left on his honeymoon so shortly after Jonathan arrived on his doorstep, but he couldn’t expect the man to delay his life for him. He didn’t want to be a burden.

Truthfully, he had to be grateful for Lyle, the dowager duchess, and Margaret. Lyle was good company, but he couldn’t spend all day following the man around. Besides, Lyle also had his business to run, the pleasure gardens of Vauxhall. The dowager duchess was kind and patient, albeit preoccupied with planning every last detail for the house party. So that left Margaret.

Perhaps fate had aligned these events in perfect tandem to force him to rely solely on her as the linchpin holding his memories together.

Yes, she was the linchpin. He would collect every memory he could from her. He knew she was holding something back and—dammit—if they were his memories, he had a right to them.

Forget her champagne colored tresses and deep chocolate eyes. Forget her pert breasts jutting out as she shot the bullseye draped in his jacket. Forget how his jacket now lingered of her faint jasmine scent. Forget her as a woman, and think of her as the holder of his memories.

Forget that he had taken all leave of his senses during their shooting practice when he had instinctively touched her, moved her body at his whim, and had then imagined arranging her arms and legs in a few other positions. No, overstepping in the shooting practice was for the exclusive purpose of coaching her to take a better shot. And she had done.

With that resolved, all Jonathan could think about was the burning imprint left on his hand from earlier. With certainty now, he knew that he knew that waist.

Chapter 4

TOHELLWITHHIMand his warm sandalwood scented jacket. She didn’t need his help fixing her aim, and she sure as hell didn’t need him in her life.

If he stayed as he was, there was no point in behaving as if they had a history, since he didn’t remember it. And if he recalled everything, she was disinclined to clear the air between them anyways. It had been too long. She had moved on. And so she would keep moving on.

It was decided. She wouldn’t tell him anything more than what he absolutely needed to know, which, in her opinion, was next to nothing.

Sure, he might remember everything, but the devil she would help restore memories that would only lead to an affray between them.

Yes. This was the healthiest choice to lead her into next season when she would choose a husband for herself. With someone who hadn’t torn her heart to shreds. With someone who would respect her mind and then worship her body. Preferably in that order.

No. There was no way she wanted to revisit their last moment together. He walked away unscathed. She was the one left with an ache so great, and so forbidden, she could do nothing but pretend it never existed. His disappearance was the best thing that had ever happened to her. It facilitated the pretense seamlessly.

That’s what she told herself. And that’s what she kept telling herself with each step she took toward the breakfast room.

JONATHAN SENSED MARGARET ENTER the breakfast room before he heard or saw anything. Her energy and presence swept into the room like whispering clouds and blue skies. When his eyes scanned her figure, a tight throb began in his groin. From yesterday’s shooting practice, he could feel his hand on the small of her back slipping around to her waist and down her hip. He caught her breasts bobbing with every breath, neatly tucked into her rose colored day dress.

She was the keeper of his secrets. He knew it now. He felt it everywhere. And he would use every charm in his arsenal to uncover those secrets. He didn’t care what rake he would have to channel, nor did he care how many layers he had to peel back. Oh yes, he would peel back all the necessary layers.

“Good morning, Margaret. Nice of you to join us today,” Lyle looked up from spooning jam onto his bread. “It is quite fortuitous indeed, since today I have to abandon Jonathan and leave him without a chess partner this morning. Since you’re here, you can take my place.”

Jonathan muffled his groan with a cough. He had been more than content to be relieved of a chess game this morning. Not that he didn’t appreciate Lyle’s male company, the lord knew he needed it.

But then again, mayhap this was his chance to start the game with Margaret.

He watched Margaret load her plate with pound cake, toast and various preserves from the sideboard.

“Lyle was just telling me that he had some business to attend to in town today.”

Margaret turned to Lyle and smiled, “I hope you have a pleasant journey.”

“Thank you. I should be back this evening. It’s only a few decisions to make on some new features to be placed in the gardens. Apparently it can’t be done via mail.” He shrugged one shoulder.

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