The Heart of a Duke (43 page)

“
Because she doesn’t love him and
she deserves to have what she truly wants. I believe that is you.”
His gut clenched as she spoke the words he’d hoped to hear, but
never allowed himself to entertain long. “She hasn’t said as much.
In fact, she’s far too quiet on the subject. That silence, and the
way she behaves around you, are enough to convince me. Why, I’d
wager a year’s allowance on it.”

Jonathan pinched his chin, gazing at his
paper, but didn’t speak.

“
I know what matters to me, which
is why I told you of this. Now you must decide what really matters
to you.” With a nod, she walked down the hall toward the front
steps.

He stared at the empty doorway for a moment,
then shook his head. He wouldn’t be told what to do or when to ask
his intended bride to marry him. He owed it to Alison to make
himself worthy of her, no matter what the countess
thought.

But what if her father had truly made such an
ultimatum and his delay really would make him lose her?

Chapter Seven

A large ring stood amongst the green trees of
the riverside. The group surrounded the tables, which were filled
with food and drink. Papa stepped forward as Alison accepted the
glass of punch the duke offered. If only Jonathan had come with the
group, but he’d chosen to remain in his relentless
pursuit.

“
What sport has your father
prepared for us this time? Something I’m abysmal at, no
doubt.”

Alison smiled at the duke’s comment. He wasn’t
a terrible person, now that she’d come to know him. She suspected
he was something like she and Charlotte were—a touch unsure of
himself, deep down. It was an odd thought, considering he was a
duke, but she couldn’t help but think it. The notion didn’t comfort
her, when she imagined Jonathan and their long conversations on the
properties of magnetic power and the harnessing of energy for use
in the modern world. It also didn’t comfort her when she found her
skin tingling or her breath fleeing at a word or a look from
Jonathan. For all his handsome features, wealth, and power, the
duke had never, not once, made her heart skip a beat.

She smiled, a soft smile that didn’t reach her
heart. “Now that we’ve completed the archery competition, I believe
he has planned some sparring between the gentlemen.”

She couldn’t keep herself from glancing at the
path leading to the manor, as if Jonathan might somehow round the
bend. He wouldn’t, of course, but her eyes and heart didn’t seem to
believe what her mind told them.

“
Splendid.” Langley frowned into
his cup as he took a sip. “Where is your father? I wish to speak
with him for a moment before he tears away the last shreds of my
dignity.”

Alison snorted, then covered her mouth with
her fingertips and pointed to where Papa stood near the ring, which
consisted of four sturdy wooden posts with rope running the inner
length.

Charlotte came to stand beside her. “This
should be an interesting competition. Though I’m not certain I
wouldn’t rather be reading a book.”

“
I believe I’d rather be in the
library myself.”

“
You might change your mind in a
moment.” Charlotte lifted an eyebrow. “It seems we have a
late-comer. Welcome, Mr. Foster.”

Alison’s heart stopped dead in her chest. She
couldn’t turn. If she did, he might not be there.

“
Hello, Lady Charlotte. Lady
Alison.”

“
You’ve decided to join us after
all?” Charlotte asked as Alison finally made her legs
move.

One corner of Jonathan’s mouth lifted. “Well,
a little competition is good for the soul, from what I’ve
heard.”

Papa strode forward, his mouth set into a hard
frown, and called to the group, “I’ve planned some sparring for the
next event. Any able-bodied man wish to challenge another to
spar?”

“
I will. I challenge the Duke of
Langley”—he bent to grasp a straight stick from the ground, testing
the thick branch with his thumbs—”but I’d prefer fencing, if you
and His Grace do not object.”

Langley stepped out from behind Papa, his
chest broad. “I accept the challenge.”

Papa nodded. “To five points then, or until a
branch breaks, and be gentlemen about it.”

The duke retrieved a stick from the ground and
tested its flexibility in a similar fashion, his gaze burning as he
stared at Jonathan. “A good number. Shall we?”

Jonathan gave a curt nod and Alison glanced
from man to man as they took their stances. The excitable and
bookish scientist with no notice of his surroundings seemed to
disappear behind the fencing stance.

They took their guard, and there
was a flurry of action. Sticks swooped and smacked against each
other. Alison couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping open. He had
said he was passable, but he must have trained most of his life.
Alison gathered her skirts in her hands, heedless of crushing the
material. Jonathan advanced.
Swoop, swoop,
smack.

“
A point for Mr. Foster,” Papa
said, though his voice muffled beneath the buzzing in her
head.

Sticks cracked together again, slamming
against each other over and over in a cacophony of dull thuds. The
crowd parted. Jonathan backed away from the duke, blocking a near
strike. Alison’s hand flew to her mouth and she stepped away from
the fray. Jonathan lunged. The duke blocked, turned, and brought
his stick around Jonathan’s. They backed away from each other,
circling.

Jonathan lunged again.

“
Another point for Foster. That’s
two, my good man.”

The duke’s face turned red, his
eyes filled with fire. He unleashed a ferocious attack. Jonathan
retreated a few steps, deftly blocking blows as he moved until . .
.
smack
.

“
Well done, Langley. Two to one,
Foster.”

Jonathan danced about the clearing. His feet
moved, swift and graceful in a way that most ladies wished they
could dance. Yet his back grew broader and his muscles strained, in
true masculine form, as he worked feverishly to land a blow. But it
was his eyes that struck Alison hardest. His gaze had gained a
gleam that charged her body with electricity. She’d never known he
had such power inside him. With each blow delivered, she fought not
to shout, and with every blow received, she could not help but
wince.

A flash of red-gold hair shimmered in the
sunlight, and Alison only spared a single glance at Vallie whose
fingertips pressed to her lips. “Oh my. Did Mr. Foster attack
Langley with a stick?”

“
No.” Alison didn’t take her eyes
off the fencing pair. “Papa asked them to spar, and Jonathan
suggested they fence. He’s rather good.”

“
Thank heavens. I’d thought . . .
“

When she didn’t finish, Alison glanced at her
then narrowed her eyes. “Where have you been?”

“
Just over there. Didn’t you see
me?” She waved vaguely toward the tables.

Alison was about to ask again when her
father’s voice stopped her. “Another point Langley. Four to three,
Foster. Come now men. Let’s have our winner.”

The men burst into a flurry of motion. Langley
scrambled back, Jonathan advanced, stick bashed against stick, and
Alison’s fingers clenched at her skirts. Jonathan dropped to one
knee in a feigned lunge, but when the duke tried to sidestep,
Jonathan brought his stick around behind the duke’s and cracked it
against the duke’s side.

“
Mr. Foster wins.”

The crowd roared and the duke nodded to
Jonathan, his gaze softened in a way Alison hadn’t seen before. He
dropped the stick, his breath coming hard. “My second strike was a
lucky one. You have skill.”

“
Thank you, Your Grace.” Jonathan
nodded back, then his gaze moved to Alison, his eyes
intense.

She smiled, her entire body tingling with the
power of his stare, and finally opened her aching fingers and
released her skirt.

Jonathan returned his gaze to the duke. “You
have some skill yourself.”

Alison wanted to congratulate Jonathan, but
the crowd converged on him. As she stepped forward, she caught
sight of Papa standing with Charlotte and Vallie, their heads
together. Before Alison could enter the crowd, Papa caught her eye
and beckoned with a nod. With a single glance toward the group, she
walked past Jonathan, who watched her go.

Vallie and Charlotte left an instant before
Alison joined them, which wasn’t a good sign. “You wanted to see
me?”

His expression, an odd strained smile, was one
she’d never seen before. Her muscles tensed.

“
Have you been enjoying the party
I’ve set up for you?”

“
Yes, Papa. It’s delightful.” She
wanted nothing more than to peek over her shoulder at Jonathan.
Seeing him might give her the strength for what she feared her
father might say. “The games and challenges have been delightful
and the company is delightful.”

Papa’s brow furrowed, as if he suspected her
trepidation. “Magnificent. And do you feel you’ve been able to get
better acquainted with the gentlemen we invited?”

“
Yes.” Her hands began to shake
and she hid them in the folds of her dress.

His smile relaxed. “Grand news. I think you
will be overjoyed with the very suitable man who has asked for your
hand.”

The warmth drained from her face. The duke. He
was the one man her father seemed to speak to most.

He stared at her a moment. “Your mother and I
had hoped for a very specific outcome, when we set up this party,
and I’m certain we are all about to get exactly what we wish
for.”

Alison bit her tongue, not wanting
to say she very much doubted that. She didn’t even think it was
what the duke truly desired. He seemed more desperate to finally
find a wife who would have him, than desperate for
her.

“I couldn’t be more pleased, and
your mother will be ecstatic.” Papa pressed a hand to her shoulder.
“Now go to the clearing beyond to meet
and
accept
your new husband.”

The emphasis her father put on the word accept
told her she wasn’t to refuse the duke. Her heart fell, despite the
tense happiness coming off her father in waves. She had always
found smiles easy, but now she couldn’t find it in her to lift even
one corner of her lips.

“
Yes, Papa.”

She turned toward the clearing, her world
narrowing with every step she took toward her “new
husband.”

Chapter Eight

Alison’s entire body was numb. It was not time
yet. She and Jonathan were becoming closer by the day, and she was
enjoying their conversations immensely. She couldn’t possibly agree
to the duke. Not yet. Her life was exactly what she’d always hoped,
yet never dared to dream, it would be. Honest and intelligent
conversations with a man who made her heart beat in an irregular
pattern and her breathing thin. She wasn’t ready to give him up and
marry some lord who’d taken a fancy to her dowry—not even if he
were a duke.

But she couldn’t explain that to
Papa.

She wandered in a daze across the grass. The
sounds of the sparring pair in the ring barely penetrated her
thoughts. Alison passed Vallie, trying to hide the heaviness in her
chest. The duke was a little arrogant and they didn’t have
sparkling conversations, but he was handsome. He might not have the
soulful and intelligent eyes or the scientific mind Jonathan did,
but . . . he had other qualities. She just didn’t know him. Perhaps
after a few years, and a couple of children, they would find a
happy companionability. Her chest welled and her stomach
rebelled.

A hand tapped lightly against her shoulder,
and Valera fell into step beside her. “What has happened,
Alison?”

“
My father said I am finally going
to marry.” She forced the word past a blockage in her throat and it
came out as a soft sob.

“
That’s grand.” Valera’s eyebrows
furrowed. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s that awful gypsy and her
cruel sense of humor. The pendant didn’t lead any of you to the
heart of a duke, though you wanted that heart.” It had led
her
to the heart of a
duke she never truly wanted. Alison wanted to kick out in
frustration. This was all the blasted pendant’s fault. “No, I know
it’s just a necklace. Deep down I know that. Still, what other
explanation could there be? Perhaps if I take it off, he won’t care
for me any longer.”

“
Why wouldn’t you want him to care
for you? I thought you cared for him.”

“
The duke?”

Valera lifted her chin. “The duke? No, Mr.
Foster. I know you two will be happy together. I see it whenever
you speak to him.”

Alison’s eyes burned, but she held the tears,
covering them with a wide smile. “Yes.” Emotion choked her word and
she swallowed. “Yes, but that doesn’t matter because he won’t ask
me. He wants to develop some great invention to be worthy of
marriage. He wants the fame of being well known in his field, but I
don’t care about that. I just want him.”