Page 62 of The Love Potion
A year or more would put a crimp in her plans for the horses, but she could adjust. Especially if it soothed her future mother-in-law and delayed her time in the marriage bed. Besides, couldn’t an engaged woman take control of the stable? If the duke allowed it?
But the duchess was not assuaged. “My son needs an heir now.”
“I’m hardly about to expire, Mother.”
No. It was her father whose days were numbered. “I am young and healthy,” she inserted forcefully. “I will do my duty with regards to the ducal nursery.” She arched her brow as if she weren’t shaking inside. “As soon as you like.”
This time, the duke did cough. Clearly, he was uncomfortable discussing that aspect of married life with his mother. Well, his mother had brought up an heir, so he couldn’t blame her. Instead, he offered his mother some cut bread with a wry expression.
“These are quite delicious, today. Would you like to try one?”
His mother sniffed. “What are they?”
“I have no—”
“Grated carrot and raisin bread,” Zoe said. “It was originally Kynthea’s recipe, but I improved on it.”
The lady frowned at the neatly cut triangle. “You brought food to a duke’s home?”
“I, uh, brought it to see if His Grace might enjoy it.” Because she’d wanted to show the duke that she had skills other than with horses. She could see now that it might be interpreted as rude. “I enjoy baking,” she said, realizing how silly that would sound, coming from a future duchess.
The lady waved Zoe to silence. “We have an excellent cook.” Then she took a careful bite. “Hmph,” she commented, as if that meant anything. Then she added, “But I cannot understand why our chef allowed strange food into the house.”
“I hardly think she was trying to poison me,” the duke said. “And I do find them quite tasty.” He took another slice for himself.
Excellent.
And while Zoe was enjoying his praise, the duke offered the plate to Kynthea. She took a slice in one hand, then bit down, her eyes closing in appreciation. “It tastes like home,” she murmured. “Only better.”
“I can barely fathom all that you have lost,” he said. He spoke the words softly, his attention riveted to Kynthea’s face. She looked away, her shoulders stiff.
Zoe watched, her brows tightening. Even Zoe could see that the duke had a great deal of affection for Kynthea. So, too, could the duchess as her eyes widened with surprise.
He couldn’t possibly be developing a tendre for Kynthea, could he? She bit her lip as she thought of all the time he and her cousin had spent together. And that most people adored Kynthea once they got to know her.
Which meant that, of course, the duke’s affection had been engaged. And how stupid was she to have not seen it before?Damn, damn, damn! She wasn’t averse to the idea. Given Kynthea’s social disasters, becoming a demirep was one of her cousin’s best options. And being a duke’s mistress would keep her in society.
But why, why, why did she have to try for the one man Zoe needed to attach?
“Miss Petrelli, is it?” the duchess barked. And it was a bark, sharp and loud akin to the sound small yapping dogs made.
“Your Grace?” Kynthea responded.
“Can you tell me why Mr. Pickleherring has made you his target?”
Kynthea didn’t show offense at the harsh demand. It was never good for a lady in her position to openly flout a duchess. The duke, on the other hand, was clearly angered on her behalf.
“No,” he said. And he punctuated the word by pushing to his feet.
“What?” cried his mother, insult reverberating in the word.
He smiled genially as he held out his hand to Kynthea. “I said no, Mother. I wanted you to meet these ladies, and now you have. But it’s a lovely day. I thought we could all go for a stroll. I am sure Lady Zoe wants to check on the horses again. She gave Barnes quite a few instructions.”
Actually, that was true.
“And Miss Petrelli hasn’t seen the gardens in back.”
“But what about tea?” his mother asked.
