Page 75 of My One and Only Duke
“I’m told the life of a debutante is not to be envied,” Jane said, fussing with the quilt. “Always on display, never putting a foot wrong, flattering everything in breeches without once offending propriety. I’d never have thought the same misery would befall an attractive young man, but then, my upbringing wasn’t worldly. I’m easily shocked.”
Quinn was shocked. For all the lures that had been cast at him, all the desperate innuendo tossed his way at the bank, nobody had ever called him attractive. His damp hair had resulted in a chill about his shoulders. Jane’s maneuvering with the quilt had restored warmth, while her words…
“I’ve kept to myself,” he said. “Left the ladies alone. For years. Life is simpler that way.”
“Your perspective is understandable, and on behalf of my gender, I apologize for all the times you were importuned without invitation. Nonetheless, you and I are married. Leave every other lady alone but neglect me at your peril.”
Her apology washed over Quinn like an extra blanket on a chilly night, comfort he hadn’t known he’d been missing, also a surprise. While the warmth was lovely, a part of him had to clutch that blanket by a corner, lest it be stolen from him should his vigilance lapse.
“Close your eyes,” Jane said, kissing Quinn’s cheek. “You’ve earned your rest, and God knows I’ll waken you with my nocturnal travels soon enough.”
“Yes, Jane.”
She drifted off, a sweet weight on his heart, though Quinn could not fall asleep for a long, long time.
* * *
“He were a ghost,” Ned said, taking the towel from Davies. “I was to wait up for him, so I sat by the back door, like he told me, and I watched him turn into darkness.”
“You fell asleep,” Davies replied, snatching the towel back and scrubbing it over Ned’s wet hair.
“I did not fall asleep, you donkey’s bunghole. Mrs. D gave me coffee, because it keeps a fellow awake better than tea. That’s how a proper footman stays on the job all day. Bitter stuff and made me have to piss something awful, so I was awake. One moment himself were on the garden path behind Mrs. D’s cottage, plain as moonlight, the next he were gone. Came back the same way. Didn’t wake up the sow at the foot of the garden or the cat sleeping on the wall.”
“So you didn’t follow him,” Davies said, scooping a bucket of dirty water from the tub and sluicing it down the scullery drain. “That was smart.”
“Not my town, not my turf.” Besides, His Grace had promised Ned he’d be shipped off to France for disobeying orders. Of course, the duke had also threatened to sell Ned to the Vikings, toss him into the sea, and leave him behind.
Had a colorful imagination, did His Grace. Miss Jane might like to know the terrors a small boy endured while racketing about with her man.
Ned wrapped himself in the toweling—an acre of soft, dry, lavender-scented fabric—and sat by the fire. Bathing wasn’t all bad, not when the kitchen was warm, the water was warmer, and dinner had been tended to first.
Davies scooped more water from the tub. “You’re to sleep late tomorrow. Miss Jane’s orders.”
“She’ll want a report.”
Davies dumped the bucket and watched the water drain away. “You have to decide, Ned, whether you’re his man or hers. She has Susan and Penny, but you’re the duke’s tiger. Bear tales carefully.”
Good advice. “Are you Penny’s man yet?”
“For fifteen minutes last Tuesday, she was nearly my woman. What else happened in York?”
“The Minster was huge,” Ned said, getting comfortable on the warm stones of the kitchen hearth. “Bigger than St. Paul’s, bigger than—”
“You told us all about the bloody Minster. What happened?”
Davies had done what he could for Ned in Newgate, which meant they were mates. Then too, Davies had never seen the Minster, never seen a hill with more sheep on it than Covent Garden had people on a sunny market day, never traveled the Great North Road. He’d hidden his disappointment, but being left behind clearly hadn’t sat well with him.
“We went out to some big house in the country, maybe ten miles from York. A palace, like if you took a whole square from Mayfair and made one house out of it. Himself drove right by the gates, but he noticed that house, not in a good way. Noticed it by ignoring it to death. Went to the village, had a pint, and we come back a different way, past another great house, which he also ignored. I stayed with the horses in the village, because I’m his tiger.”
“You stayed with the horses because you’re a nosy bugger, and himself didn’t want you eavesdropping.”
As if that mattered? “I might ’ave heard a word here and there.”
Davies dumped yet another bucket. “And?”
“He were right turbulent about something. Didn’t raise his voice, but he were fuming.”
Davies rummaged through a basket of clean laundry and pitched clothes at Ned. “Get dressed, or the maids will be consoling you on the size of yer wee pizzle.”
