The Heart of a Duke (7 page)

He had finally done the unthinkable and fallen
in love with a woman that would never be his.

She didn't even
want
to be his,
regardless of her availability or lack thereof. It was curiosity
that drove her, she had said herself that she wondered about
passion and how it could be between a man and a woman. Clearly,
Langley wasn't satisfying that curiosity, for which he shouldn't be
grateful but was. In her blithe inexperience, Elle could not
realize how near she had come to having the situation resolved
definitively by the wrong man.

There was nothing for it. He was going to have
to push Langley to court Elle the way she deserved. Yes, of course
he would rather juggle hot pokers than watch them making calf's
eyes at each other, but it was the right thing to do.

With a long sigh, Jacob tipped his head back
to rest against the leather seat back and studied the plaster
ceiling. The tension thrumming through his body from his encounter
with Elle had banished any trace of hunger. Slumping in the chair,
he brought his boots up to rest on the desk, crossed his legs at
the ankle, and laced his fingers together over his
stomach.

He had a feeling he was going to spend much
time in the coming week studying the cracks and bumps of his
cousin's office ceiling.

Chapter Four

Days passed in a blur of festive summer
activities, but Elle couldn't seem to muster her usual enthusiasm
for lawn games and whist. It should have made her happy that
Langley had made time for her, taking her on the occasional walk
and asking her the odd question about herself. He even volunteered
a few personal tidbits without her having to prompt him. Slowly, it
seemed as though they might find their way to a friendship of
sorts, even though the duke still treated her with a polite
civility that could never be mistaken for passion.

Wherever the couple went, Jacob watched them
with brooding eyes, his expression wiped clean of readable emotion.
The weight of his regard made the space between her shoulder blades
itch. She didn't even have to look to know he was there, except
when he wasn't. He had taken to disappearing mysteriously for hours
at a time, his mood even darker when he finally reappeared. Elle
strove to ignore him, but could never quite manage it.

The unacknowledged tension between them strung
tight like a string, connecting them even as they moved among the
duke's jovial guests wrapped up in their own revelry.

Confusion and uncertainty swirled within Elle.
She'd come to the house party with the idea of enticing Langley to
kiss her, hoping it would force him to close the distance he had
always kept between them. But nothing was happening the way she'd
planned, control over the situation was spinning out of her
reach.

Everything was upside down and backward. She
wasn't sure how to right it again, and uncertain she even wanted
to.

"Your turn, Lady Eleanore."

Elle jolted, caught woolgathering. Shooting
Langley a wide smile that felt stiff around the edges, she gripped
her mallet and lined up the pall mall ball in the soft grass for
her next shot. Bringing her arms back in a smooth arc, she swung
hard, and the crack of wood on wood was loud enough to draw a laugh
from one of the duke's friends.

"Heh, she's going to trounce you, Langley,"
called Viscount Pembrook, his expression gleeful. "I'd advise
taking the loss gracefully. Forever and ever, amen, is a very long
time, my friend."

The duke tossed a scowl in the viscount's
direction, then studied the lawn intensely for a moment before
tapping the mallet to his own ball. It tumbled after hers, but fell
short by several paces. The duke's lips tightened, and he marched
off after it, shoulders stiff.

Elle trailed behind him, less than eager to
continue playing with a poor sport. A flash of copper caught her
eye, and she nearly stumbled over an exposed shrubbery root as she
caught sight of Jacob conversing with another gentleman at the edge
of the playing field.

Pleasure tugged within her as she studied him
covertly. His long, leanly muscled build was in sharp contrast with
many of the soft, rounded lords that littered the party. Despite
his profession keeping him mostly indoors, his skin had a lovely
golden hue in the afternoon sun, and her lips curved as she
recalled the adorable freckles that were sprinkled over the bridge
of his nose.

How mortified he would be if he knew she
thought him adorable.

"Again, my lady, we seem to have lost you,"
said Langley, one hand fisted impatiently on his hip. Elle hurried
over and took a hasty whack at the ball, sending it sailing past
the duke's aghast face with less than a handbreadth to
spare.

"Sorry," she mumbled. While nearly beheading
the duke with her pall mall ball caused heat to sear her cheeks,
his shocked expression made a giggle bubble in her
chest.

Glancing at Jacob, she caught the twinkle in
his gaze, one side of his mouth quirking up in a grin. Hastily,
Elle looked away, choking back unruly laughter. A sharp sigh told
her the duke was not amused in the least, and she cleared her
throat and stepped to the side. “Forgive me. I believe it’s your
turn.”

She didn't look toward Jacob for the rest of
her game with Langley, and when they retired to the house for tea,
he had disappeared again.

The warmth that had settled over her, however,
at the amused approval in his earlier gaze stayed with her for the
rest of the afternoon.

Jacob glanced up as Langley entered his study,
whistling a cheerful tune.

"Your mood seems much improved, cousin. Did
you win your game?"

Langley shook his head ruefully as he paused
next to his desk, then leaned one hip on it instead of sitting in
his customary chair. "No, not at all. Lady Eleanore is a masterful
player, even when she is distracted."

A lump formed in Jacob's throat, and he
cleared it, striving for a casual curiosity. "Oh?"

"She had her head in the clouds all afternoon.
It was the only reason I was even able to compete with her, I
fear." Langley tapped one finger against his bottom lip. "The lady
is not usually this vacant, is she? I do not recall her being so,
but—"

"Elle is quite sharp. I assure you that no one
who knows her well would question her intelligence."

There was a pause, then his cousin raised one
arrogant eyebrow at him.

"Are you criticizing my relationship with my
betrothed? I did not realize that the two of you were so close. Do
enlighten me on how I should proceed, cousin."

Jacob blew out a slow breath. His jealousy was
making him careless.

"I'm not criticizing, merely pointing out you
need not worry that you will be breeding stupidity into the ducal
line." He shrugged one shoulder in an irritated movement, chafing
under Langley's close study. "Truth be told, I'm regretting our
bargain. I've not the time, nor the inclination, to watch your
bride flit around. The duchess seems to have the wedding
arrangements well in hand, and I could use the time to concentrate
on winning over some of your friends' support, frankly."

His cousin straightened, smacking his gloves
in one hand as he wandered over to the fireplace, dark brows
furrowed in thought. "Then, of course you must consider yourself
relieved of any obligation to me. It is of little matter, since I
was planning to release you this evening anyway. I find that
spending time in Lady Eleanore's company is not quite the burden
I'd once felt." The small smile that played over Langley's lips
twisted Jacob's stomach.

"Another man fallen," Jacob muttered, but his
cousin's sharp bark of laughter brought him up short.

"Fallen? As in,
in love
? Hardly. She is
amusing, I'll grant you, and pleasant on the eyes, but I have no
plans to start making calf eyes at Lady Eleanore." Langley shook
his head, and after giving his gloves one last slap, he tucked them
into his pocket decisively. "Men such as myself do not require love
when forming a match. Once cannot fall in love with every pretty
face he sees. If that were the case, he might end up married to his
mistress. Marriage for a duke is pure business, cousin, you know
this. I've no time for love."

"That's the most pompous, asinine
thing I've ever heard come tumbling from your lips, Langley, and
that's saying something." Jacob jerked to his feet and stalked to
the sideboard to pour himself a brandy. He removed the stopper from
the bottle, then slammed the bottle back on the wooden surface, his
glass still empty. Rage on Elle's behalf burned in his chest. "She
deserves more than cool civility from you. And she sure as hell
doesn’t deserve the embarrassment of you traipsing about Town with
a mistress. Don't you see the disservice you do to her, and
yourself, by not allowing yourself to truly
see
her?"

"Do not tell me how to conduct my affairs.
You, who has never managed to even come close to properly courting
a woman," Langley retorted, his gaze furious.

If only his cousin knew the reason
Jacob had never flirted with the idea of marriage was because the
one woman he wanted was already promised to
him
.

"At least, I'm honest about my
intentions."

He wasn't, not really. He was a blasted
coward, and she would never know how he felt about her, not if he
had anything to say about it.

"I'm honest!" Langley's face grew red as his
large hands fisted at his sides. "I've never claimed to love Lady
Eleanore, nor will I, but I will take care of her and see that
she's as happy as I can make her."

"Without love and faithfulness,
how happy
can
you
make her, cousin?"

He must stop baiting Langley, but the
selfishness of his cousin's words ricocheted around in Jacob's
brain, wrecking havoc on his self control. He knew the wedding
plans had frustrated his cousin, but he hadn't dreamed of the
callous depths of disregard the man had for his own
bride.

Langley stiffened, drawing himself
up regally, and looked down his nose at Jacob. "I believe we've
exhausted the limits of this conversation for the moment. The Earl
of Worthington is waiting for me in the billiards room, and we
have
important
matters to discuss. I will see you at supper."

Jacob said nothing as his cousin strode from
the room, boot heels clicking in precision on the marble floor. He
was getting good at watching people flee his presence from that
particular door. One might even call it his newest hobby. Christ
knew he could use a distraction from brooding over the situation
with Elle and fighting with Langley.

He was so damned tired of feeling guilty all
the time, of burying his feelings, and doing what was expected of
him. It was part of being an adult, he supposed, but it was
wearying. He was tired of pretending that he had nothing to
hide.

Even the best of men broke sometimes, and he
could hardly be counted in their number. He was fair to middling,
when it came down to the grit of it, it seemed.

Jacob thought of Elle's mischievous blue gaze
as she had struggled not to laugh after nearly taking off Langley's
head with the pall mall ball earlier. His own lips curved as he
lifted the decanter and poured himself a drink.

Perhaps he wasn't even as good a man as
middling, but with the memory of Elle in the sunshine warming him,
he found he didn't care in the least.

Chapter Five

Elle knew the moment she pushed open Langley's
study door that he wasn't there. The place behind his desk was
empty, the piles of papers from the other day gone, and his pen
neatly lined up on the blotter. She stepped inside the room anyway,
and dropped down on the settee near the fireplace with a defeated
sigh.

She had decided to give her experiment with
the duke one last shot, since the house party ended in just two
days. Perhaps, if he would just kiss her already, then she could
see if there was hope for them. But he had vanished after their
pall mall game, and she feared he might be sulking over her
victory.