Page 103 of Would I Lie to the Duke
McGale & McGale Honey Soap thrived. She had the figures to prove it.
The staff was busy making enough soap to fill the staggering number of orders that had come in now that the term of exclusivity with Daley’s had ended. It seemed that having a duchess as part owner and operator of a business was enough of a novelty to attractcustomers, but the quality of the product kept them coming back for more.
Meeting the demand had been a struggle, since there simply hadn’t been enough hands. But after sending out word that the operation was in the process of expansion and in need of help, people found their way to Honiton. Many of the McGale & McGale workers were veterans, as well as widows, and others seeking steady employment.
She headed toward the main barn. As she walked toward it, she passed Fred.
“Come with me,” she said to him. “I’ve some information to share with you, Cynthia, and Noel.”
“You’ll find both of them in the shipping yard,” Fred said. “Can’t you tell me now?”
“No preferential treatment.” Jess sniffed, but she likely punctured her faux annoyance by grinning. “About-face, sirrah.”
Her brother grumbled, but he fell into step beside her as they walked toward the part of the farm where delivery drays were loaded. Several heavy wagons stood there now, and a line of workers passed crates of soap to each other, moving them from where they were boxed up to the drays themselves.
As Jess neared, her gaze moved down the line of workers. One man had his back to her as he accepted each box and stacked them in the bed of the wagon, working without a coat and waistcoat. No mistaking who it was—her husband.
The wild happiness she felt whenever she saw him struck her anew. It opened petals within her, blossoming.
“A duke stacking boxes of soap in a wagon is certainly not a typically aristocratic pastime,” she said as she approached. “But you’re anything from a typical aristocrat.”
“That’s because I’ve perfected what it means to be a toff,” he said easily.
“I’ve some news,” she said.
“Paul, will you take my place in line?” Noel asked the man standing beside him. When Paul nodded, Noel stepped away from his task. He grabbed his coat and waistcoat, which had been draped over one side of the wagon, and shrugged into both of them. A moment later, he stood next to Jess and took her hand in his.
At this rate, Jess would have a whole meadow full of happiness blooming inside her.
“Tell us!” Cynthia said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Jess looked at each of them—her sister, Fred, and Noel all looking at her expectantly—and couldn’t contain her grin. “We’ve made a profit. Not a little one, either. Our net profit margin is twenty-three percent.”
Cynthia let out a whoop, and Fred beamed.
Noel turned to her and cupped her jaw with one of his broad hands. Affection was warm in his gaze as he murmured, “By God, Jess, you’re a wonder.”
“It was a group effort,” she said. “The credit belongs to all of us.”
“Butyouwere the one steering the ship.Youbrought us here.”
“I like that.” She ran her fingertip over his lips. “How you sayus.”
“It’s alwaysus, Jess.”
He bent to kiss her, but froze when Cynthia called, “Oof, have a care for your workers’ delicate sensibilities.”
Jess scowled at her sister. Before Jess could call back a rude reply, Noel lightly held her chin and moved her to face him once more.
He kissed her. In full view of all of their workers, uncaring what anyone might think of a duke seducing his duchess in plain sight, he kissed her deeply.
“For God’s sake,” Cynthia grumbled. “Flaunt your undying love somewhere else.”
“As you like, dearest little sister,” Jess said, though her words were a little breathless.
“Meant to tell you,” Noel said, weaving his fingers with hers and leading her away, “a letter came to Carriford this morning and I hadn’t a chance to say. Lord Trask has already requested that we both attend next year’s Bazaar.”
“That’s not for months and months.”
