Page 11 of Her Duke Next Door
ChapterFour
“Ishould think that Katie’s papa will be staying here for a while!” Eloise chattered happily. Her brows were pulled into a frown, her lips pouted in a focused lift as she brought her embroidery circle up to her eye level to examine.
Next to her, Mary kept watch, ensuring her daughter did not prick herself on the embroidery needles.
“Why do you say that, darling?”
“Katie has been awfully cross with him ever since her birthday party last week,” Eloise said. Mary had to fight a smile. Already seven years old and her daughter was a natural gossip in the way Mary had never quite been. Her mother and sister would be proud when they next visited. “And then Annalise and Tabitha said that they overheard His Grace apologizing to Katie. Felicity said that, if he was sorry, then he would stay.” Eloise turned her gaze on Mary. “Do not you agree, Mama?”
“I do,” Mary mused. “A father should never neglect his daughter.”
“Katie says she does not mind but I know she does. Otherwise, she would not tell me how cross she is with him.”
Mary was still having a difficult time connecting this absent father who upset his daughter often with the alluring Duke who had cornered her against the door of his study and sent heat blazing through her body.
I have not lusted for a man in many, many years. Had I ever even lusted for Patrick?
But the thought of Patrick made her stomach clench uneasily. She filed those thoughts away, reminding herself not to touch them. She looked at Eloise, with her dark hair, like Mary’s, and was thankful that she had more of her own appearance than her father’s.
“Quite right, Eloise,” she answered. “Shall we visit your aunt Anne and cousin Matthew soon?” Mary asked, wanting to change the subject.
“No,” Eloise sighed. “Matthew is a silly baby and I cannot play with him like I play with Katie.”
Mary laughed, wondering at this girl who went from a gossiping lady, back to her normal seven-year-old self so easily.
Soon, she will be debuting and you will wonder where all the years went.
“You were a baby once, too,” Mary said.
“That does not help, Mama,” Eloise instructed. “And Aunt Anne and Uncle Alexander kiss a lot. I do not wish to hear them speaking so lovingly in one another’s ears. Especially when you do not have anybody to whisper to you.”
The stark comment sank into Mary with a dreaded weight.
No, she did not have anybody to treat her with the same affection. She had a beautiful house, a lonely life, and her daughter, but she did not have a husband to love her. She never had.
I think you will find that once you… Open up to me… I am quite agreeable to be around.
Her mind drifted away from her daughter’s endless stream of chatter, and she barely felt her own embroidery beneath her hands. Her mind wandered, thinking of the Duke’s lips brushing her ear. His low voice sparking lust in her. The teasing words he had used to bend her to his whim. How powerful his presence had simply felt. And if it was only that presence and no touch but she was affected so easily…
How would it feel to be the full object of his attention, desire, and pleasure?
Do not be silly. He told you that you would know if that were the case. Why would he want an old widow like you?
And yet Mary could not stop thinking about him, not even when Eloise embroidered with her for hours in the parlor, as the sun set. Her eyes remained on the horizon, looking for the turrets of the castle in the distance.
* * *
That night, Mary’s dreams were haunted by the Duke. In them, he brushed her neck with his mouth, and she had tipped her head back to give him further access, driven by her desire for him. The dream version of the Duke smiled indulgently and wickedly as he slid his tongue down part of her skin before sucking gently, leaving Mary gasping for more.
He teased her with his mouth and that wicked tongue, alighting her body from the inside. The desire rolled through her, pulling her further into his allure. She gasped, seeking out his hand to slide her fingers through his.
But he had other plans for her. He laughed darkly onto her exposed shoulder, slipping his hands beneath her nightgown, and Mary was helpless, wanton, and could barely gather herself to moan his name but the word slipped past her parted lips the moment before his mouth claimed her?—
“—Your Grace,” she moaned, gasping awake, her body on fire. Sweat beaded on her forehead, making her thin nightgown cling to her body. She swore that she could feel that man against her, still.
Her hand lifted, her fingers curling, as if reaching for the Duke in her dreams.
Mary shook herself off, tried to get comfortable again, and attempted to not think of the Duke. Despite being scandalized by the lustful dream, she could still see the Duke’s body when she closed her eyes and there was an ache between her legs that she could not ignore. Still, she attempted to sleep and hoped that the handsome man would leave her to slumber in peace.
