Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes (20 page)

what choice did he have?

He turned and reluctantly made his way toward the

kitchen door, but voices ground him to a halt. A man

and woman arguing? The woman’s voice grew louder

and more insistent.

“I told you, I’m not interested.”

Miss Ramsey.

Without another thought, Avery leaped up the stairs

and sprinted after her. Adrenaline pounded through him,

forcing his footsteps faster. She needed him. He’d been

right to worry. She was unprepared and vulnerable and

in no position…

He stopped suddenly, gravel crunching beneath his

boots. Miss Ramsey stood over Lachlan Mackenzie, who

was moaning and grabbing his crotch as he lay in a heap

on the gravel.

“Maybe next time a woman tells you she’s not inter-

ested, you’ll take her a little more seriously.” She glared

at the man and nudged him with the toe of her boot.

He would thrash Mackenzie. Later. For now, he

directed his attention to Miss Ramsey. Her eyes were

alight with anger, and her chest heaved with exertion and

outrage. She was the picture of a warrior goddess, strong

and decisive. The antithesis of a meek and demure female,

but strangely he was drawn to her even more at the sight.

“Miss Ramsey, are you injured?”
You
simpleton, she is
obviously not
. But he could think of nothing else to say. If the stable master had laid a finger on her, Avery would

not simply thrash him. He’d kill him.

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She glanced over at him without losing her cross

expression. “No, I’m fine. Just had to explain some basic

communication skills to gropey- boy here.” Hefting the

bag in her right hand, she sniffed. “Well, I’m going to try

this leaving thing again. See ya.”

This time, when she turned, he reached out a hand

and stopped her.

“Miss Ramsey.” No, that was too formal. “Leah.”

Her face softened slightly as she tilted her chin upward

to look into his eyes. “Yes?”

I
should
not. I cannot.
He must, and he did.

Stepping toward her, he closed the short distance

between them. His hand trailed from her shoulder to the

delicate curve of her neck, higher to tangle into the hair

at her nape. Her lips, pink and pale in the breaking dawn,

parted slightly on a breath.

“Avery?” The question was whispered, her eyes soft

and confused as she looked up at him.

He let his actions answer. Bending low, he pressed his

lips to hers.

Soft heat. That was the sensation of her mouth on his.

His muscles trembled with the effort of holding himself

still, of restraining the urge to draw her body tight against his and possess her completely. This was enough. It was

more than he deserved and all he’d ever get. She was

leaving here, leaving him, forever.

Her breasts just barely brushed his chest. He imagined

he could hear her heartbeat, stuttering and thundering

just like his own. She opened her mouth wider, and he

let his tongue explore the wet recesses of her mouth.

God, she tasted so sweet. Like sugared mints, clean

and delicious. He swallowed his groan and swept his

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tongue across her soft, full lips. No woman could be this

perfect, this maddening, this…

A cough from the ground below them broke the spell,

and Avery stepped back, reluctantly breaking the most

incredible moment of his life.

He looked away from Leah, afraid of what he’d see in

her face. He focused on the man lying in the dirt instead.

The stable master moaned and struggled to his feet.

“You’ll pay for that, Russell.”

Avery moved between Leah and Mackenzie. The man

was in no shape to threaten her further, but Avery would

take no chances with her safety. Watching the stable

master limp away, reality suddenly slammed into him.

Oh dear God, what had he done? If they’d been seen,

she’d be ruined.

Shame filled him, replacing the fingers of pleasure

that had warmed him at their kiss. “Miss Ramsey, I do

apologize. I wish you much happiness.”

Without stopping to see if his apology was accepted,

he turned and strode toward the house. He must get

away, must separate himself from her. She was too good

for him.

He should never have allowed himself to soil her so.

i

Leah stared after Avery, wondering what the hell had

just happened. She pressed a trembling finger to her lips.

He’d kissed her.

Well, that had been unexpectedly incredible.

He’d been sweet, tentative, but demanding at the same

time. She blew out a shaky breath, willing her knees to stop

threatening collapse. She needed to get herself together.

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It was only a kiss. She’d been kissed before.

Not
like
that
, her subconscious whispered.

She mechanically picked up the bag that she’d

dropped when he leaned down to her and walked toward

the street. Her thoughts flopped around like rapidly

breeding Tribbles.

He’d never given her any indication that he was

attracted to her. As a matter of fact, every time she’d

touched him he’d backed away like his ass was on fire.

How was she supposed to read signs that didn’t exist?

Had she completely screwed up this whole trip by

chasing after the wrong man?

“Oy, watch ye’self!”

She staggered backward to avoid getting trampled by

a horse and cart. The driver shot her a dirty look as he

passed by. Walking around in such a daze was dangerous

for more than herself. Shaking her head to clear it, she

walked in the direction Lady Chesterfield had told her to

go.
Walk
now. Think later.

She may not know exactly who she was here to fall

in love with, but she did know she desperately needed

a friend to talk to. Lady Chesterfield and Jamie’s maid

Muriel were the best shots she had at some objective

advice. But she had to make it there in one piece.

The sun had risen by the time she made it to Hanover

Square. Setting her jaw, she marched up the steps to

number four and knocked. The large door squeaked

open slowly, revealing an ancient- looking butler. His

long, hooked nose sported a sizeable mole, and his

eyebrows, well,
eyebrow
, was composed entirely of curly white hair.

“The servant’s entrance is in the back of the house, miss.”

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She had to hand it to him. He used that beak to his

advantage, looking down at her over it as if he was the

king of England. Before he could firmly close the door in

her face, as she assumed was his idea, a trilling, cheerful

voice floated down the stairs.

“Graves, do let the poor gel in. She is our guest, not

a common kitchen maid.”

With a pained look, Graves stepped aside to let her in.

Lady Chesterfield, dressed in a flamboyantly red robe,

stood on the landing.

“Oh, my dear, how lovely to see you. Graves, take

her things. Is that all you’ve brought? But of course it is,

no matter. Come, come.”

With an emotion that could safely be labeled ridicu-

lously heavenly relief coursing through her, Leah trotted

up the stairs after Lady Chesterfield.

“I’m sorry it’s so early,” she said as the older woman

bustled into a bedchamber almost as large as His Grace’s

had been. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Lady Chesterfield laughed as she pulled a velvet rope

at the bedside. “No matter, dear, no matter. I shall rest

when I’ve cocked up my toes. Now”— she clapped her

hands together delightedly, eyes wrinkling at the corners

as she smiled— “do sit down. Muriel shall bring us some

chocolate, and then we shall make our plan of attack.”

Leah sank into the chair that Lady Chesterfield had

pointed to, relaxing gratefully into the softness. She

hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been carrying

ever since she’d tumbled into Avery’s arms from

that mirror.

Avery.

Oh God, what had she done?

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She was saved from her mental swan dive into melan-

choly by a timid knock on the door.

“My lady, I have your chocolate.” A maid, probably

about seventeen or eighteen, entered the room bearing

a tray with a steaming cup atop it. Brownish hair curled

around the bottom of her mobcap, framing her delicate,

pale face.

“Muriel,” Lady Chesterfield said, “this is our guest,

Leah Ramsey. You are acquainted with her dear friend

Miss Jamie Marten, or should I say Lady Dunnington?”

The maid nearly dropped the tray in her excitement.

“Miss Jamie?” She set the tray hurriedly on the bedside

table and rushed to Leah’s side. “How is she? And my

lord Dunnington? Mrs. Knightsbridge told me they were

to wed. Was it lovely? I know it was the most beautiful

ceremony, for they were so in love.”

Leah had to laugh at the maid’s excited outburst.

“Muriel, you’re exactly like Jamie described you. Yes, it

was a beautiful wedding, and they’re really happy.”

It was nice to think about her best friend instead of the

mess Leah had made of her own life recently.

The maid turned her shining eyes to Lady Chesterfield.

“How may I assist your ladyship?”

The woman propped her hands on her ample hips

and smiled broadly. “Our Miss Ramsey here is destined

to wed the Duke of Granville. And we, my girl, shall

help her.”

“The Duke of Granville?” Muriel’s tone was surprised,

but not in a good way. “But he is so old!”

Leah shifted uneasily in the chair. Muriel had just blurted

out her biggest misgiving about this whole shebang.

“Yes, dear, His Grace, the Duke of Granville.” Lady

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Chesterfield sniffed. “And mind your tongue, Muriel.

As you know, a gentleman’s age is of no real impedi-

ment to a match. I do not know His Grace personally.

His mother is a harridan of the first water, I must own.

Still, it is of no consequence. We shall see to it that our

Miss Ramsey weds advantageously, you can be assured

of that.”

“Lady Chesterfield,” Leah said, rising to her feet with

only a slight wobble. “I might have been wrong about

the duke. Mrs. Knightsbridge told me that my true love

was in the Duke of Granville’s household, but she never

actually came out and said it was the duke.” Unease

swirled in her stomach as she looked at her hostess and

the maid.

A quizzical smile appeared on the baroness’s face. “But

there are no other eligible gentlemen in the household.”

Avery’s face popped into Leah’s mind’s eye, and

she laughed awkwardly. “Well, a gentle man, but not

a gentleman, if you get me.” Leah cleared her throat.

“What I mean is, I kind of made friends with someone

in the house. The duke’s valet, actually. And I’m

wondering if I may have made the wrong assumption

about the identity of the man I’m supposed to fall in

love with.”

Pursing her lips, Lady Chesterfield paced in front of

the wide hearth. Muriel looked on, fingers twisting her

apron. The only sound for several long moments was the

soft crackle and pop of the fire. Leah linked her fingers in

front of her, willing her lungs to draw in oxygen deeply

and evenly. Hopefully Lady Chesterfield could help her

figure this out.

“May I be plain, Miss Ramsey?”

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Leah nodded. “Please.”

Lady Chesterfield continued, “In your position as a

temporary servant in the household, it is only natural

that you would develop a
tendre
for another servant, as a presumed equal. But”— she crossed over to Leah and laid

a gentle hand on her shoulder— “I cannot think that your

Mrs. Knightsbridge wished for you to marry a mere valet.

With my patronage, you will be welcomed into society.

You need not settle for a commoner.”

Leah sank back into the chair as Lady Chesterfield

continued.

“Is it not possible that your feelings were magnified by

your difficult position? Should you not pursue what you

had desired in order to discover its worth?” The woman

grasped Leah’s hands. “I only wish to assist you, dear.

And I would be very remiss indeed if I allowed you to set

your cap for a valet when you could have snared a duke.”

Doubt began to creep into the edges of Leah’s