Lord Love a Duke (32 page)

Miranda tapped her finger against her lips
as she contemplated the Countess' proposal, a deep look of
concentration over her countenance. “It seems a little far-fetched
to me, but I will remark on Melville's disappearance to Juliet.
Think you a gunshot will make them react so? Will I need to fire
more than once? I should think I will need to make them feel
trapped by a gunman so that they will be confined together under
threat.”

“That's true, my dear. You will need to be
able to see their reaction to the shot. It might take more than
one. I want them to feel they need to take cover, to feel
threatened under fire. That may lead to confessions.”

“I will need more than one pistol. How am I
to obtain the firearms needed? I may not have time to reload and
shoot again before they could simply flee the area.”

“I travel with pistols in my carriage, as
most do, so we simply need to go out to the stables and gather what
you need,” stated Lady Ashford with matter-of-fact certainty. “Let
us go now, under cover of darkness. It makes me feel like I am
involved in some important intrigue for the Crown.”

“I swear you are my favorite person in the
world, my Lady A! Shall we dress all black for this secret mission?
Or breeches? I have several pairs of old breeches and shirts,”
Miranda laughed as she finished her question.

“Breeches, child? Whatever do you – no,
never you mind. I would do well not to ask that question. We will
most certainly not wear black, either. It makes my complexion quite
sallow. I only wore black for one week for my
not-so-dearly-departed Earl.” She patted Miranda's arm as they rose
from their seat at the window. “And I am quite fond of you, too, my
dear. We are making quite the formidable team.”

The barest scratch on the door preceded the
abrupt and noisy arrival of Miranda into Juliet's room the
following morning. She had just begun the laces on her half boots,
the surprise of Miranda's coming causing Juliet's hand to slip, her
body to jump, and her balance to fail as she tumbled inelegantly
off the settle to the floor.

“Miranda!” she shouted to the rafters. “You
have the most unfortunate way of entering one's room. Can you never
wait to be admitted before bursting in like a horse over a
gate?”

“My apologies, but have you heard the
news?”

“As I have yet to leave my room, I have
heard no news save your insincere apology.”

Miranda scrunched her face in a mock pout.
“My apology was most sincere, albeit brief. I truly did not mean to
startle you into such a state.” She reached a hand down to aid her
friend back onto the chair. “I will even play your maid while you
hear my report.” She grabbed Juliet's boot and began to lace them
snugly around her ankle. Miranda took great care, evening out the
ties and straightening the tongue, remaining silent as she
worked.

“Miranda, I thought you were to be my maid
while
you talked. Is the work too
difficult to allow both at once?”

“Ha-ha, jester. I forget what a mood you can
be in the mornings.”

“I have no such 'morning mood' to cause you
complaint. Any mood I am in is the direct result of the
near-apoplexy you gave me exploding into my room like the fusillade
of a cannon.”

“Fie on you, then, you saucy piece! I shall
keep this news, which relates directly to you, I might add, to
myself.” She dropped Juliet's second boot with a thud and stood. “I
will leave you to finish your toilette in blessed solitude and
silence,” she declared with a dramatic turn and flounce.

“
Saints and sinners,
Miranda! If your mother hears that awful cant coming out of your
mouth she will tie you to a chair and bid you recite aloud
Fordyce's
Sermons to Young Women
.
And I will not apologize for being upset that you scared ten years
from my life when you rushed into the room all a twitter. I will,
however, ask you nicely to stay and open your budgt to
me.”

“Now who has the vulgar tongue?”

“I know very little, actually. I have heard
Lord Aylesford complaining that his grandmother and aunt speak it
constantly; it is so much gibberish but they seem to know exactly
what the other means. I have managed to figure out some phrases
from hearing his stories and listening to the servants. Of course
Charles delights in using the rudest of phrases but I have not
learned most of their meanings yet.” She finished tying her boot
and rose from the settle. “Forget all this! My curiosity is aroused
now and I must know what you know!”

Miranda glanced around the room as if
seeking to make sure they were alone. Juliet followed suit before
shaking her head at that nonsense. Miranda walked up to her friend
as if to share a most important confidence.

“They think Melville is still close by!” she
whispered with force. “Your brother Marcus returned late last night
and I overheard him saying that the Viscount has not been seen
anywhere. It seems your brother and some Guards friends scoured
London and he has not been found. Do you think him still here?
Could he be waiting and watching to strike again?” She shuddered
with wide eyes and clutching hands.

“Is that all your news? That the Viscount
cannot be found? I have no care for what that bounder is doing, nor
where he hides.”

“But what if he should seek revenge on
you?”

“Revenge? For what? He attacked me. He
affronted me. He has no cause for revenge.”

Miranda's brows raised dramatically as she
pursed her lips. “I think he does, Juliet. You insulted him quite
thoroughly, and he fled because he knew he would suffer at the
hands of your brothers and mine. I should think he would like to
return some form of payback to you. He likely feels cheated out of
your hand.”

“I should think those reasons would be
precisely what keeps him in hiding,” Juliet scoffed. “He got off
lightly with a mere facer. I should have done much more. He is
fortunate I was not armed.” She gathered her bonnet and gloves. “He
was thwarted in his plans for my dowry, not my heart. I will waste
no time thinking of him. I must be off. I have been summoned to
collect strawberries this morn. It seems my aunt must have them
now, and I must collect them with my betrothed. A more obvious
picture of matchmaking does not exist.”

Miranda's eyes flashed with something before
she masked them with her lashes. Gathering Juliet by the arm she
herded her friend out the door and down the stairs. “You must be
off, then.” They reached the hall, where Jonas waited with a large
basket, and Miranda bade them farewell. “Happy hunting to you
both,” she called with a wave before turning back for the
stairs.

“What was that about?” queried Jonas.

“
Just Miranda being
Miranda,” offered Juliet with a smile. “She felt it necessary to
burst into my room, abuse me with vulgarity, then tell me that
evidently Viscount Melville still lurks around Sussex as he has not
been found in Town.” Juliet arranged her bonnet just so, tying the
ribbons under her chin. Pulling on her gloves she turned to face
the Duke. “Are you ready to perform our duty to Aunt Catherine? It
seems she is in need of servants and none others will
do.”

Jonas offered his arm as they walked to the
music room to exit through the french windows onto the rear
terrace. “I think I have a most helpful ally in your aunt. It seems
she would like to assist my suit. If that be the case, I can think
of no duty to be assigned that I would not heartily agree to if it
means spending time with you.”

Juliet blushed prettily but did not demure.
“You will find me most agreeable to your company as well, but I
must complain that it has been so warm that picking berries, even
in the morning, will be more chore than delight. I find there is
nothing so refreshing as a carriage ride, and would not complain of
another, however,” she commented saucily.

Jonas' eyes lit with an icy fire as he
brought their stroll to an abrupt halt. “It pleases me to hear you
say that. Miranda's flutterings made me forget to greet you
properly,” he added before dropping his head to kiss her
thoroughly. He raised his head slightly, rubbing her nose with his.
“A good morn to you, my lady,” he offered before meeting her lips
again. Juliet sighed and he felt her hands splay across his chest,
inching up slowly to grab the lapels of his jacket. He smiled and
slanted his head, taking the kiss deeper, his warm hand cupping her
face. The sudden slamming of a nearby door broke them apart.

Jonas sighed heavily and was encouraged to
see Juliet's chest rising and falling with effort as well. A few
more days and he could kiss and touch and greet her however he
wanted, whenever he wanted. “We should move on before I continue to
forget myself and our location,” he said with great reluctance
coloring his voice. Taking her hand, he placed it in the crook of
his arm and they proceeded on their walk. Arriving at the berry
beds, they moved down the opposite sides of a single row, searching
for the succulent red fruit while sharing amusing observations
about the assembled house guests.

“I think Dartmouth and Miss Shaw are hitting
it off quite well. Have you chanced to observe his solicitous
behavior and her pretty smiles and blushes? I pronounce that match
well done on my part,” declared Juliet without a trace of modesty,
causing Jonas to laugh thoroughly.

“They owe you much thanks. For myself, I am
merely glad you had not formed an attachment to the Earl.”

Juliet stood up to stare at the Duke. “You
thought I cared for Dartmouth?” she asked incredulously. “I admit
he is terribly entertaining and well-mannered, but he is not for
me, to be sure. I never even exchanged more than five words with
the gentleman before this party.”

“Most ladies find words unnecessary when
they see his face and learn of his title” he deadpanned.

Juliet removed her bonnet to fan her face
and neck, welcoming the cooling effect of the slight breeze over
her heated skin. “Have you not learned by now, Your Grace,” she
began with a flirtatious lilt to her voice. “I am not most
ladies.”

Jonas quickly stood and stepped over the row
of berries, the basket containing their collection clutched in his
hand. “You most certainly are not, my lady. And I think I have
known that all your life.” He moved to close the space between them
as Juliet tilted her face up to meet his coming kiss when a shot
rang out, shattering the quiet.

Thoughts raced quickly
through Juliet's mind. Melville! He
was
still here! Another shot sounded, this one much closer, the
zip of the ball loud with its proximity. Without another care
Juliet launched herself at the Duke, tackling him and taking him to
the soft ground between the plant rows. She heard the basket crunch
and felt it splinter with a jolt between their bodies as they hit
the earth. The force of their impact took her breath away for a
moment and Juliet lay still, awaiting another shot.

Shouts could be heard from the house and
Juliet feared for the safety of the staff. “Take cover!” she yelled
to their would-be rescuers. “We are under fire!”

She rolled off the Duke, staying low on the
ground, and groaned as she registered the tender spot on her
stomach where the basket had crushed. She risked a glance at the
manor and saw the gardener and his helpers had dropped low as they
made their way to the berry field.

“Those were gunshots,” she hissed. “Miranda
warned me just this morn of Melville's continued disappearance.
Think you he fired on us?” Jonas made no response and Juliet's gaze
flew to him. He lay deathly still on his back, eyes closed. Her
gaze traveled down to a bloom of red color soaking his once-white
shirt. She jumped to her feet, heedless of the danger.

“Hurry!” she shrieked. “His Grace has been
shot!”

The staff broke into a run at this
announcement and Juliet turned back to the Duke. She dropped to her
knees, throwing the splintered basket aside and carefully
unbuttoning his waistcoat, offering a brief prayer of thanks that
he had left off his fitted jacket in deference to the heat. She
paused to lean her head over his mouth to listen for his breath but
the sound of his voice shocked her instead.

“Juliet,” he groaned. “You are surprisingly
strong when you take a man down,” he joked.

“Hush, Jonas. You are injured,” she murmured
as she ran a hand lovingly across his brow, pushing back the locks
of hair that were wont to drape there. “Help is on the way, my
love. You will be fine. You will be fine.”

Jonas' lids flew open at statements. He
opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by her kiss. She pressed
her lips to his, her fingers continuing to soothe his brow and
temple. “Juliet–“

“
Quiet,” she admonished
softly. “I am here.” He blinked several times, his gaze darting
around and she felt her heart jerk painfully in her chest. “You
must stay awake, Jonas.” He clamped his lids closed as he processed
her earlier words. Injured? Shot?
My love
?

“Jonas, you must not sleep!” she cried with
a louder voice this time. “You will not leave me now that you made
me love you!”

At this Jonas abruptly sat up, grabbing her
arms tightly. “You love me?” he asked.

“You love him?” yelled a voice from the
nearby treeline. A loud thump followed by a 'bugger it' was heard
as a small figure dressed in a large floppy hat and breeches ran
from the woods. “You love him!” declared the wild creature with a
triumphant shout.