Waking Up With the Duke (27 page)

Chapter 29

“P
lease inform the marchioness that the Duke of Ainsley has come to call.”

Standing in the entry hallway, Ainsley tugged off his gloves. More rumors were floating about. If ladies were calling, Jayne was certain to have heard of them. He wanted to judge for himself how much they were upsetting her.

“I fear she is not at home, Your Grace,” the butler said.

Ainsley stilled. “Not at home to me, you mean? I will see her if I have to find her myself.”

The butler cleared his throat. “She left for Herndon Hall this afternoon.”

With a sound curse, Ainsley headed out the door.

T
he carriage had come to a halt some time earlier. Jayne didn’t know the exact hour. She knew only that darkness had fallen, rain poured down, and a footman stood ready with an umbrella should she decide to disembark. She sent her maid in as soon as they arrived. Yet in spite of the dampness and chill seeping into her bones, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the confines of the carriage.

The door clicked open. She didn’t know why she wasn’t surprised to see Ainsley climb inside and take the bench opposite her.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Jayne?”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I made a call at your residence. Fairly killed my horse to catch up to you. Did you think I would let you run off without coming after you?”

“I wasn’t running off. I—” She had been running away. She looked out the window toward the residence. “I can’t bring myself to go in. It wasn’t quite as difficult in London because we hadn’t been there in so long, not since the accident. But here, for more than three years, it was everything. And everything was a lie.”

“Jayne—”

“I had to leave London, Ainsley. I feel as though I’m suffocating there. You, your mother, the ladies, Cousin Ralph—I have no peace. I can’t think, I can’t breathe. I know so many people mean well.” She released a wry laugh. “Some do not. I thought if I came here, I could at least breathe. But I can’t seem to leave the carriage. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It was not my intent to suffocate you, Jayne. But I promised Walfort that I would . . . care for you. Come to Grantwood Manor, Jayne. You will be away from the madness that is London. You can heal in spirit. Give birth to your child. Return here when you are ready.”

She felt the tears sting her eyes. He was not going to pressure her to marry him. It was both a relief and a disappointment. “Yes. I think I should like that very much.”

I
t was late when they arrived at Grantwood Manor the following night. Here the only black crepe to be seen was what she wore. Here the clocks
tick-tocked
. She felt a lifting of her spirits that astounded her. She’d not realized how much she needed to get away from the oppressiveness of both the London residence and Herndon Hall.

Ainsley had been the perfect gentleman on the journey here. He’d regaled her with tales of his youth, the history of his ancestors. They’d spoken of nothing intimate. Yet there was a sense of intimacy. It was simply his way—with his silken voice and his gaze never straying from her. She told herself it was because he was always in the mode of seducer. A habit formed during years of frequenting bedchambers. His reputation surpassed that of his brothers. Did he truly believe he could give it all up for her? Did she?

She wanted to as Ainsley led her up the stairs, but then the reality of the situation came crashing around her as he opened the door to the bedchamber beside his. She was certain it had never occurred to him that she would sleep anywhere except within easy reach.

“I should sleep at the end of the hall,” she said.

He shrugged. “Select whichever room you want.”

She didn’t want the room she’d had before. She didn’t want the room where Walfort had slept. To move to another wing would be ludicrous. Strolling down the hallway, she looked into every other room. None was as big as the one he offered her. None was as inviting. She would be here until she gave birth. Her back had begun to ache on the journey, and she’d been quite miserable. She reached the end of the hallway, pivoted, and returned to the door he’d first opened for her. “I suppose this one shall do. But you are not to use the door between the bedchambers.”

“I would not dream of it.”

“That is a lie. I suspect you were dreaming of it on the way here.”

“A small lie. Is it my fault that I find you irresistible?”

He was such a charmer, always knew the right thing to say. She wished she could trust his words. “Ainsley, do not woo me with false flattery.”

“One day, Jayne, I shall convince you that I’ve never given you false words.”

She opened her mouth to remind him—

“Omission is not false words.”

“It is still a falsehood.”

He shook his head.

“Would you care for a late night repast before bed?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

While the servants hauled up her trunks and put away her belongings, she joined Ainsley in the smaller dining room at a table with only four chairs. She sat across from him while simple fare was laid out before them. She popped a square of cheese into her mouth and followed it with a grape.

“I suspect many mothers will be disappointed that you’re not in London for the Season,” she said.

“They would be more disappointed if I were there and not paying attention to their daughters.”

“You might be surprised. Someone might catch your fancy.”

He lifted his wineglass. “Someone already has. As you well know.”

“I am in mourning,” she reminded him exasperatingly.

She watched his jaw clench just before he gulped down more wine. “I’m well aware of that. Just don’t expect me to be too jolly about it.”

She wanted to change the subject. “You and your brothers grew up here, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Mother preferred Glenwood Manor to Lyons Place. Of late, however, we’ve been gathering for Christmas at Lyons Place. Claire has made it a true home for Westcliffe.”

“Your residence already feels like a home.”

“Not when I’m here alone. It’s too blasted quiet.”

The prospect of silence was what had driven her away from London and Herndon Hall. She didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts.

He’d been devoted to her during their month at Blackmoor, but then she’d given him everything. They’d lived in a bubble, but now the bubble had burst. She had no doubt that in time he would grow weary of her. Then she would face the challenges of raising her child alone.

F
ollowing dinner, Ainsley tried to convince her to join him in the library for a bit of reading, but she retired to her room. He went to the library, but rather than grab a book, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and headed for the garden.

Trekking beyond the house, beyond the lighted path, he reached an area blanketed in darkness except for the glow of stars and moon. He sat on the grass, opened the whiskey, and took a long draught, relishing the burning and the penetrating warmth.

Jayne was correct, blast her. He’d gone into this situation knowing he could never recognize this child. It did not stop him from wanting to nor did it prevent him from wanting her, but his desires were ill-timed. She needed to heal. This child would be born. Walfort would be recorded as its father. Ainsley would do all that he could to protect it.

Stretching out on his back on the cool ground, he stared at the stars. Their distance made them all the more appealing. Jayne said she was suffocating. He brought her here to breathe. By God, he would give her room to breathe.

S
itting by the window in her bedchamber, Jayne did not want to admit that she had enjoyed sharing dinner with Ainsley. Even when they did not speak, it was a comfort to have him near. But was that enough?

She nearly leapt out of her skin when he came bursting into the room.

“Come along. I have something marvelous to show you,” he announced.

“But I’m in my bedclothes.”

“Doesn’t matter. There’s no one to see.”

He ducked into a bedchamber across the hallway and emerged with an arm filled with blankets. His excitement was contagious.

“What is it, Ainsley?”

“You have to see it to believe it.”

He led her through the manor. Once outside, he said, “Grab my arm. Don’t let go.”

She curled her fingers around his arm and allowed him to lead her through the garden, away from the house, the lights. “We should have the torches lit.”

“No, they’ll interfere.”

He came to a stop. She watched as his silhouette, limned by moonlight, arranged the blankets on the ground. Then he took her hand, drew her down until she was lying on the blanket, gazing at the stars. She saw one sweeping across the sky, followed quickly by another, then another.

She released a small laugh. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve seen it before. It’s as though the stars are racing across the sky.”

“Do you think we’re only allowed one wish?”

“I think you can have as many as you want.”

She studied the sky. So many things to wish for. That she would have met Ainsley before Walfort. But what guarantee did she have that he’d be any more faithful? That she’d not had a month with Ainsley that caused her to doubt her affections for Walfort. But then she would not have a child.

“Is it wrong that I’m glad to be here?” she asked, not certain why the words burst forth.

“Is it wrong that I’m glad you’re here?”

It was so much easier talking to the stars.

“I was not such a good wife.” She’d thought saying the words would ease the burden of the guilt. It had been with her ever since she left Blackmoor. Her greatest fear was that somehow Walfort had known how she’d felt, that somehow the knowledge led to his decline.

“You were an exceptional wife.”

“You were a much better friend to him than I.”

“Not such a good friend. I fell in love with his wife.”

He rose onto his elbow and cradled her face. “I fell in love with you while we were at Blackmoor,” he admitted.

With a sad smile, she shook her head. “It was lovely while we were there, but it was only fantasy. We had no responsibilities. It wasn’t real.”

“For me it was extremely real.”

“Because it mostly involved the bedchamber, and that is where you spend a great deal of your life.”

“Not so much as you might think. I’ve been with no woman since you.”

She hardly knew what to say.

“I was going to take a mistress,” he confessed. “But I could never work up any sort of enthusiasm for the search. Then I decided to take a wife, but no woman appealed to me. I finally realized why. None of them were you. I love you, Jayne.”

This time, the words spoken with such intensity, resonated through her heart and soul.

“I have from the moment I met you,” he continued. “Not deeply of course, at first. But there was a spark, a twisting of my heart, and I regretted that I’d not met you before Walfort. I thought if I had . . . that you would have become mine.”

“Ainsley, please don’t do this.”

“I know the timing could not be worse. You are far along with child—my child. A child I want to recognize as mine. Marry me, Jayne.”

He’d asked before, but she’d not taken it seriously. Now his declarations and insistence terrified her. “It would be scandalous.”

“We’ve been scandalous before. It did not turn out so poorly.” He splayed his fingers across her belly. “I want to claim this child as mine. That is what I wish whenever I see a star fall. That you and this child will be mine, and all of London will know it.”

She skimmed her fingers up through his thick hair.

“You ask so much of me,” she said.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, to her forehead, to her other temple. “Just consider the possibility. Truly consider it. That’s all I ask.”

He settled his mouth firmly over hers, taking possession as though he owned it. She let him. She welcomed him. It was more than she remembered. Perhaps because this time it wasn’t the forbidden taking place in the shadows of a terrace or a good-bye that nearly tore her heart from her chest.

It was a tentative beginning, a starting over. Something they’d truly never had. Always before the scepter of scandal and the whisper of betrayal had loomed over them like black thunderclouds rolling over the lake on a winter evening.

She knew that tonight it would go no further than this: an exploring of heated mouths, soft groans, and low moans. She was not ready for more than this. Her emotions were too raw. But she took what he offered, allowed it to fill a well that had gone dry. She had longed for so much more than what Walfort could give her. And what he withheld from her had nothing to do with his paralyzed body. She knew that now.