Page 49 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
Jake slowly came to his senses, taking more than a moment to recognise the unfamiliar feeling of well-being spreading throughout his body. And then he did.
The sense of loss at the realisation that he wasn’t still with Rose was surprising and none too welcome. He’d always been a rolling-stone sort of chap when it came to women, making good his escape at the earliest opportunity, and had been true to form last night. He could still recall the hurt in her eyes when he’d left.
Her question had touched him on the raw. Now he wished he’d stayed. Not that he could or would explain. Thinking about it made him feel ill. He certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone else.
He stared at the light coming through the window. By Jove. It was morning. He’d slept all night, once he’d crawled into his own bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had awoken in his own bed, let alone slept there for several hours on the trot.
Or when he’d last awoken feeling remarkably at peace rather than desolate. It would have been even better if Rose had been here to share his good mood. He stilled. Not something he should want. Not now. Not ever. Good lord, he’d been wrong to let lust carry him away in the first place. It would never happen again.
He wished he believed that, truly he did, but he knew beyond a doubt that things had not yet come to their natural conclusion. Unless after his rudeness, Rose decided to turn him away.
He shrugged. She wouldn’t be the first one and likely not the last. It meant nothing. But he couldn’t help hoping that she would forgive his lapse in manners.
His valet entered and started. ‘Your Grace!’
Jake sat up. ‘That is me.’
And for the first time the very idea of it didn’t make him want to hit something.
‘Shall I fetch a tray, Your Grace?’
‘No. I’ll go down for breakfast. Fetch some hot water. would you? There’s a good fellow.’
It didn’t take him long to shave and dress, though he was held up by his valet, who insisted on trimming his nails. When he entered the dining room he was surprised to discover his grandmother and Rose already eating.
‘You are rather early this morning, are you not, Grandmama?’ He leaned forward to kiss the papery wrinkled cheek she presented.
‘Have you forgotten the Dearbournes’ Venetian Breakfast is today? You were to escort us.’ She swivelled in her chair and looked up at him. ‘You look different. What have you done?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Rose, does he look different to you?’
Rose cast him a swift glance, then looked down at her plate, a rush of colour across her cheekbones. ‘He looks the same as always, Your Grace.’
‘Hmmph.’ His grandmother went back to her eggs. ‘You hadn’t forgotten you promised to escort us, have you, Westmoor?’
‘I had not.’ He just hadn’t recalled it was today. He’d been too busy feeling good about beginning the day feeling so cheerful and well rested. ‘We leave at eleven, do we not?’
‘We do. Which is why Rose and I are eating now. It might be three in the afternoon before Lady Dearbourne puts out a morsel of food.’
He groaned. ‘Truly?’ He’d gone last year with a couple of friends while his grandmother had gone with his father and brother. Jake had only stayed an hour or so before heading off for more enjoyable pursuits. This year there would be no departing early.
He filled his plate and sat down at the head of the table. Something that usually made him feel like a usurper. This morning it gave him the chance to sit between his grandmother and Rose and charm himself back into both ladies’ good graces. ‘Are you well, Grandmama?’
‘As well as can be expected at my age, my boy,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘And how are you this fine morning, Miss Nightingale?’
Again he received only the briefest glance. ‘Very well, thank you, Your Grace.’
‘I do wish you would call me Jake, or at least Westmoor, or people will think it strange.’
The pink in her cheeks turned a darker shade. She pushed her eggs around on her plate. ‘I prefer to maintain the proprieties, Your Grace. May I pour you some tea?’
Grandmama looked from Rose to him. Her gaze sharpened. She raised a brow. ‘You seem very cheerful this morning, Jacob.’
