Page 50 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
‘I am.’ He glanced at Rose, couldn’t stop himself, but she kept her gaze fixed on her plate.
‘I’m glad to see it,’ Grandmama said, looking pleased. ‘Very glad. Aren’t you pleased, Rose?’
Rose jumped. Her gaze flew to his and back to his grandmother. ‘I am sure it is not my place to offer an opinion, Your Grace.’
Jake felt nervousness like a kick to the gut. Clearly she was not feeling the samejoie de vivrehe was this morning. At least, not with him. Women were such sensitive creatures.
She continued to poke at the food, barely eating a mouthful.
‘Hmmph,’ Her Grace said. ‘And here I was thinking you and my grandson were getting on so well.’
Rose looked ready to hide under the table. ‘His Grace is very kind, Your Grace.’
Kind. Was that what she was calling it? He realised his grandmother was watching him and forced his frown away.
‘Young people,’ Grandmama said with a snort.
‘What about young people, Grandmama?’ he asked.
‘They cannot see what is beneath their noses, that is what. Jacob, you will have the carriage brought around at eleven, if you please. Are you finished, Miss Nightingale?’
‘Quite finished, Your Grace,’ Rose replied, putting down her knife and fork.
She’d barely eaten a thing. Blast it. But what could he say? He got up and held his grandmother’s chair. Rose did not wait for his assistance, but came around the table to take his grandmother’s arm and support her progress out of the room.
Devil take it. So much for feeling better than he had in days. Now he had a sense of impending doom.
And then there was Eleanor and Lucy’s arrival to be considered. He wasn’t sure if having them here would make things better or worse for Rose. But he did know one thing—last night must not happen again if it was going to make Rose unhappy.
Suddenly the day did not seem quite so bright.
Chapter Eight
To Rose’s relief, Jake had seen her and his grandmother into the town coach and had ridden on ahead. She wasn’t quite sure how she would have managed if he had travelled with them in the carriage. Awkward did not begin to describe the way she felt. It wasn’t that she regretted their lovemaking, exactly. It had been something beyond her girlish imaginations. Quite wonderful, in truth. But she did feel as if she had let herself down. She had always assumed she was far too smart to let her attraction for a man overcome her good sense. That she was no better than the mother she had blamed for her situation came as a disappointment.
In addition, she did not like the feeling of keeping secrets from his grandmother, who was regarding her intently. Not in an unfriendly way, more a sort of knowing glance, as if at any moment she might wink. Imagination, surely? Or a guilty conscience. Her Grace would probably toss her out on her ear if she so much as guessed what Rose and Jake had been up to.
Not Jake. His Grace. Using his name would be a terrible slip in public. Besides, it had all ended rather badly, so it wasn’t as if it would continue. If only she hadn’t made such a stupid comment. Of course he hadn’t dreamed of being a duke. Still, there was no reason for him to get so stuffy about it. She hadn’t meant anything by it. She could only hope he wasn’t regretting offering her this position.
A feeling of excitement took up residence in her stomach as the carriage turned into the drive. Her Grace had tried to explain what a Venetian Breakfast entailed and it sounded like it might be fun. She would just have to be careful what she said and did and not make any more silly mistakes where Jake was concerned.
He was waiting to greet them when the carriage set them down at the front door and escorted them around the side of the house. The Marquis and Marchioness of Dearbourne met them on the terrace and directed them to lawns that sloped down to the River Thames at the back of the house where the guests were assembling.
The scent of late-summer roses swirled around them. Bunting fluttered from bushes and poles in the light breeze on what had turned out to be a day of blue skies and a few puffy clouds.
The drive had been a scant five miles from the ducal town house to Dearbourne Villa, but Rose, despite her misgivings, had enjoyed every moment. It was the first time in her life she had been what she thought of asout in the country, though Her Grace had assured her this was, by most, considered as an extension of London. Why, the old lady had exclaimed, they were going nowhere near as far as Windsor.
The villa was not as grand as the Duke’s mansion, but it was no paltry affair, either. It had the look of a fairy castle, in fact. Pennants flew at the top of turrets and one could almost imagine armed knights standing on the tops of walls decorated with crenulations.
Since Jake had very properly taken his grandmother’s arm, Rose was free to wander along behind them taking in the sights. There were tables set out in the shade of trees that clustered at the edge of a field that the Marchioness had called the lawn. There were also open-sided tents in bright colours, providing shade and seats as well as blankets for those who liked to sit on the ground.
Some of the tents shaded tables full of bottles and glasses, while footmen and maids strolled among the guests, looking dreadfully hot, offering trays of full glasses or carting away the empty ones.
Rose could not help feeling sorry for those servants and their heavy clothing in the summer heat, while the ladies were in the lightest of muslins. Some of the gentlemen lounging on the blankets had stripped down to their shirts and waistcoats.
Al fresco. Rose savoured the exotic Italian words.
Jake organised a chair for his grandmother beneath one of the canopies and offered Rose the one beside her. Instead, she took one to the rear and shook her head when he looked as if he might argue with her choice. She leaned forward to murmur in the Dowager Duchess’s ear, ‘Is there anything you need, Your Grace?’
