The Grace of a Duke (23 page)

“Perhaps you will agree to a meeting with me tomorrow so I may review what you have done for the construction project thus far?” he wondered in a louder voice. “I should like you to show me what you have chosen.” The tone of his voice was almost business-like; there was no hint of amusement or irony that suggested he meant something different by the question.

Disappointed by the unromantic nature of his proposal, Charlotte caught her lower lip with a tooth. “That would be agreeable, Your Grace,” she answered without emotion. And it annoyed her enough to ask him about his offer of hospitality to Gisborn. “Why ever would you allow him to stay under your roof?” she whispered hoarsely. She’d heard the offer from outside the doors to the library and almost didn’t come back in. She’d wanted nothing but to hide from the earl in the hopes he would go away and never come back.

Smiling, Joshua leaned down to whisper in her ear, making sure his lips touched the edge of a whorl as he said, “Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.”

Charlotte smile was hesitant, a bit because she wondered to what lengths Joshua might go to keep the upper hand, but more because his intimate touch had caused a rather pleasant frisson to pass through her entire body.

“And Lady Charlotte, we have unfinished business with the earl,” he added in a voice that was meant to be overheard by Gisborn. As he regarded Charlotte, he was aware that, with her eyes, she was begging him to ask that the Earl of Gisborn take his leave. But if what Gisborn had said was true – that he already held title to Bingham’s lands in Oxfordshire – then he felt Charlotte really should give Gisborn’s offer some consideration.

“Indeed,” Gisborn chimed in, wondering if their low-voiced discussion was only about fabric or if something else was being said. “My lady, I know I should not wish to compel you into a marriage that you may not want, but seeing as I have already been given title to your property, it seems only reasonable that you give my claim its due. I believe I would make a suitable husband and that you would be a perfect countess.”

Lady Charlotte regarded the earl for a moment and then turned her attention to Joshua. His expression gave her no hint as to how he felt about the situation, and he’d shown no signs of asking for her hand despite the time they had spent together. They had shared a few kisses, one near the lake and then again yesterday morning. They had shared a bed, but rather platonically, the past two nights. But Joshua had said nothing that would indicate a marriage was in their future. The few conversations they’d shared over meals and in her bathroom two days before were also devoid of the subject. Then she remembered her comment about how many children he wanted –
As many as you want
– and realized just then what he meant when he inferred that he had been courting her. Had he said that merely to appease her?
Perhaps the scar on my back reminds him too much of his own,
she thought suddenly, a sadness creeping over her. She’d wanted him for a husband ever since his brother’s death, even before that if she was honest with herself.

She returned her gaze to the earl and had to admit that she was attracted to his masculine demeanor, his dark hair and dangerous looks. She’d expected him to be his uncle – much older, a cripple even. To discover he was Henry Forster – young and quite virile – and that he had followed her from London made her feel
wanted
.

What will he think of my scar?
she wondered suddenly. Would he be so repulsed as to withdraw his claim and offer?

“I believe I would, my lord ...”

“Gisborn, please,” the earl interrupted, his heavy-lidded eyes becoming more so.

“But perhaps, Gisborn,” she continued, saying his name as if she was trying it on her tongue for the first time, “It would be advisable for us to spend some time discovering if we would be a suitable match.”

Joshua had to still his entire body at that moment in order to keep himself from grabbing onto Lady Charlotte and pulling her against him. He recognized his impulse for what it was – jealousy. He wanted Charlotte Bingham for himself, although he knew he would not be completely satisfied unless she wanted him the same way. “Perhaps Lady Charlotte would agree to take a walk in the back gardens with you,” Joshua suggested, the words nearly sticking in his throat. “It would give you both a chance to get to know one another.” He heard Charlotte’s breath catch and hoped that Gisborn did not.

She finally turned to give him a glance, her anger changing to something else. “Why, of course, if Your Grace does not mind me taking time away from my task,” she replied, a bit too sweetly.

Joshua recognized the tone, but decided against chiding her in front of their guest. “I would not have made the suggestion if I minded,” he countered with a mischievous grin.

A bit wary, Gisborn eyed Joshua before turning his attention to Charlotte. He nodded once. “It is a lovely day, and not one that should be spent toiling away indoors. Would you do me the honor of taking a turn in the gardens?” he asked, his hands behind his back as he made his request.

Taken aback by the earl’s manner, Charlotte nodded in turn. “I would like that very much, Gisborn,” she replied with not a hint of sarcasm. The earl gave her a warm smile, which did everything to make him all that more handsome. He held out an arm to her and she placed her hand on it.

“Should I call for your maid to join you?” Joshua asked, wondering if Charlotte wanted the security of a chaperone.

“That won’t be necessary, Your Grace. We’ll just be in the gardens,” she replied, again with the sweet voice. She dropped the stack of swatches on a nearby table and, in a swish of her skirts, was soon out the door on the arm of the earl.

Joshua took a breath and held it for several seconds. He had only himself to blame, but for the next hour or so, he would feel agony knowing Charlotte was alone in his gardens with the Earl of Gisborn.

Chapter 23

Mr. McElliott Makes Arrangements

The sense of disorientation Garrett felt when he opened his eyes dissipated quickly as he took in the scent of the naked woman pressed against his side, her head tucked into the space between his neck and shoulder. He inhaled deeply, allowing the scent of rose and silken hair to tickle his nose as he moved to kiss her forehead.

A giggle burbled up from Jane as she reached down with a finger to stroke his tumescence. “Are you always so ... eager in the morning?” she asked in a teasing voice.

Garrett reached down and captured her hand in his, pressing it against his manhood as he let out his own chuckle. “I believe this is all your fault, madame, and will be my fate every morning for the rest of our days,” he accused in reply, his heavy lidded eyes making him look as if he was about to fall asleep again.

“Indeed?” Jane purred, her fingers wrapping around his cock, causing Garrett to open his eyes a bit wider. A growl escaped his lips, and when Jane didn’t pull her hand away, Garrett inhaled deeply as he lifted himself onto one elbow. Through heavy lids, he saw her breasts were full, their nipples erect and dusky rose in the early morning light.

Jane breathed in deeply, her chest rising erotically before she whispered, “I am yours.”

Garrett needed no other invitation. Climbing atop her, he leaned down and kissed her fully on the lips. When he sensed her legs spreading apart and felt her thighs pressing against the side of his hips, he held himself over her body, pausing a bit to take in the sight of her. Her breasts were fuller, rounder he was sure, as he watched her writhe into place beneath him. As she watched him through lowered lashes, he entered her slowly, felt her wetness surround him, felt her grip him, felt her entire body trembling before he thrust his cock deep into her.

Jane arched her back as the warm sensation of fullness filled her lower body, her long throat exposed completely to Garrett’s tongue and lips. His motions were careful but deliberate, teasing her as he tasted her skin, as he felt her heat searing his skin where they touched. Garrett pushed into her and then pulled out, repeating his rhythmic movements slowly to make it last as long as possible.

Her lips took purchase on one of his nipples, though, and with the gentle suckling and the stroking of her fingers down the sides of his torso, Garrett could no longer hold back. As he pushed into her as hard and as fast as he could, the release he felt was intense and seemed to consume his entire body. He nearly yelled out as Jane arched her back in response to his body’s wave of pleasure, her thighs gripping him tightly. He forced his mouth onto one of her shoulders to stifle the growl emanating from his throat. He heard her soft cries and quickened breathing and finally felt her body shudder and melt under him. He relaxed, all his energy expended and the last vestiges of his climax waning.

Lowering himself onto her and collapsing in exhaustion, Garrett allowed his head to rest on Jane’s shoulder as he felt her fingers wind themselves into his hair on the back of his head and lightly stroke his back. Sleep took them both for a blissful time as they held one another.

When the sounds from the street below woke them, Garrett untangled himself from the bed linens and from Jane, moaning as he did so. He kissed her, his thumb passing over her plump lower lip before rolling onto his side.

“The movers will be here to load your furniture at one,” he murmured sleepily. “Do you need help packing the small items?” he asked, scrubbing his stubbled face with an open palm. “I just have to go to hospital to see the Binghams sometime this morning and then pick up a package for Lady Charlotte at ten.” He’d returned from his dealings with the solicitor the day before with a number of small wooden crates and two large trunks. His visit to a London drayage company had resulted in an arrangement whereby several wagons would be loaded with Jane’s possessions that afternoon and driven to Wisborough Oaks for arrival sometime the next afternoon. To ensure a timely delivery and extra care for her furniture, Garrett tipped the dispatcher and the driver and explained that there would be more recompense once the items were safely unloaded and moved into the dowager cottage at Wisborough Oaks.

Jane stretched, her arms straightening over her head as her body writhed next to his. A nipple peeked out from the edge of the quilt and Garrett took the opportunity to kiss it, his hand cupping the mounded breast as he did so. Startled, Jane inhaled sharply as her hands went to his head, her fingers raking through is thick, dark hair. When she didn’t immediately answer, Garrett lifted his head and turned his attention to her face. The area around her eye had cleared, the purple bruise having turned a bit green and sunk to just above her cheekbone. He kissed her cheekbone carefully and moved the back of his hand to push the hair from her face. “You still wish to come with me, don’t you?” he wondered then, fearing she may have changed her mind about moving to Wisborough Oaks.

Jane’s eyes widened. “Of course!” she answered, a smile finally appearing. She kissed him then, a light, feather of a kiss that had him closing his eyes and moaning playfully. She wondered if their mornings in the cottage would be like this, the two of them naked and tangled in the bedclothes and with each other. Perhaps they would wear nightclothes in the winter.

Garrett grinned. “I wish we were already married,” he murmured.

Jane regarded him with a cocked eyebrow, the elegant arch of it causing Garrett to trace it with the tip of a finger. “And why is that?” she whispered, moving her body so that she lay atop him.

He considered his answer for a moment. “If we were already married, I wouldn’t feel so damned guilty about having my way with you.”

A slow smile appeared to brighten her face. “Garrett McElliott,” she spoke quietly. “I, Jane Anne Wethersby, take thee to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

Garrett regarded her with widened eyes. “Me, too,” he responded before kissing her thoroughly on the lips.

Chapter 24

The Earl of Gisborn Courts Lady Charlotte

“Have you been here at Wisborough Oaks long?” Gisborn asked as he began his private conversation with Lady Charlotte. They had just stepped out of the back door of the house and were making their way along the flagstone path to the gardens that lay to the south of the house. Charlotte had not excused herself to fetch a bonnet or pelisse, and he wondered if there would be enough shade in the garden to protect her fair skin. He nearly asked, but decided their initial meeting was too fraught with tension, and her prickly behavior could quickly return if she thought he second-guessed her on even a simple situation as a missing bonnet.

He was aware that Charlotte had been looking in his direction for some time, quickly averting her eyes whenever he turned to look at her. But with his question, she did make eye contact with him.

“I arrived last week,” she replied, making sure to keep her voice as neutral as possible. Charlotte felt his arm tense under her hand, sensed his disapproval in the way he carried his body.
He is so different from how I knew him in Society!
Henry Forester was a handsome, friendly, and pleasant man. But the Earl of Gisborn was suddenly darkly handsome, dangerous almost, and his manner was most unpleasant. She wondered if the friend from last year and the acquaintance from her youth was still in there somewhere.

“Did you come at the invitation of the duke?” he wondered then, a hint of jealousy apparent in his voice even though he tried to keep a conversational tone.

Charlotte allowed herself to smile just then, deciding it wasn’t so awful for a man to show interest in her. Even if he did want a marriage and she did not. “Not at all,” she said with a shake of his head. “His Grace was quite gracious to receive me, though, since I had not sent word ahead.”

“And why was that?” Gisborn countered, a bit too quickly, his dark brows furrowing into either anger or concern, Charlotte could not tell.

Inhaling slowly, Charlotte was about to reply that it was really none of his business, but in the spirit of their time together, she instead said, “I have an obligation to this duchy. My twenty-first birthday is Saturday, and I was under the impression I was to be wedded to His Grace.” She felt Gisborn’s arm tense again.

“I see,” he answered, his face suddenly taking on a look of disappointment that Charlotte found ... charming, somehow. They had just entered the garden closest to the house and took the path that led to the right. “And do you ...
want
to be wedded to him?” he wondered, the words coming out before he could stop them. “Forgive me, it’s not my place ...”

“I did. I have wanted it for as long as I can remember,” Charlotte interrupted. “I have spent my entire life expecting to be the Duchess of Chichester, after spending a few years as the Countess of Grinstead, of course,” she explained, referring to the time she thought she would be married to John.

Gisborn heard her words, and took heart in how she replied, ‘I did’ – not ‘I do’.

Perhaps there was hope for their union, after all.

“Have you changed your mind because of what happened to the Wainwrights?” he asked then. “Did you feel ... affection for the elder brother?” Although he only knew of John Wainwright II through his reputation as a rake and a gambler, Gisborn thought perhaps Charlotte had been attracted to the older brother.
Women always seemed to drawn to the dangerous ones,
he considered, never once putting himself into that category.

“I felt no affection for John, nor would I
want
to have been married to him,” Charlotte nearly spat out. “He made his position on the terms of our marriage quite clear several years ago.”

Surprised at her vehement response, Gisborn thought it best to change the subject. “But you do feel something for His Grace.” They had come upon a stone bench and Gisborn paused to allow Charlotte to sit down before he joined her, careful to keep a respectful distance between them.

Charlotte soured at hearing the statement, her current feelings for the duke not so charitable. Why couldn’t Joshua have simply asked for her hand and obtained a license when she first arrived? They could be married this Saturday, and Gisborn would have no claim! She could be married to the only man for whom she had ever felt affection!
Damn him!
“I ... I do not know my feelings on the matter,” she answered, realizing the words were very close to the truth. “Tell me, my lord ...”

“Gisborn, please,” he interrupted gently. “I would prefer you call me ‘Gisborn’.”

Nodding, Charlotte wondered if she should grant him the same courtesy, but decided to continue her question. “Tell me, Gisborn, have you ever been married?”

Frowning, the earl shook his head. “No. I’ve just turned thirty last month.”

Charlotte straightened. “So, you are just
now
seeking to marry?” she clarified, an eyebrow cocking in a manner that suggested she thought he had spent his last ten or more years frequenting brothels and gaming hells. She didn’t really believe that; the man she knew seemed very honorable and not one to gamble. “Tell me, Gisborn. How many children do you have?”

Gisborn inhaled sharply and let his breath out slowly, but there wasn’t a hint of anger in his face as Charlotte expected. “I had ... responsibilities ...” He let go of her hand and clasped both of his hands together, his forearms resting on muscular thighs that strained his breeches. “My uncle has been ill for many years. I have been in Oxfordshire overseeing his properties ... my properties,” he corrected himself with a sigh. “I have never taken the time to spend an entire Season in London to seek a wife.”

Noting his manner of clasping his hands together, Charlotte did the same. “I apologize. Having spent ...”

“I have a son,” he stated then, his eyes looking straight ahead.  He was quiet for a long moment, but Charlotte could tell he wanted to say something more, so she did not speak. “Nathaniel is ten. Although his mother refused to marry me, I have seen to his every need since before he was born,” he finally added, exhaling as if he’s been holding his breath for several minutes.

Charlotte knew she should have been repulsed at the thought of Gisborn having an illegitimate child, but she found she could not be if the man was providing funds for his care. Suddenly questioning her first impressions of him, she caught her lower lip with a tooth. “May I ask why his mother would refuse you?”
He had an affaire with a married woman,
was her first thought.

Not expecting such a calm response, Gisborn turned his attention back to Charlotte. “She was not born to our class,” he stammered, his face so sad that Charlotte had to look away. When she did so, he added, “I fell in love, you see. I was just home from Eton, about to leave for Oxford, and Sarah and I ... I’ve known her since we were in leading strings ... despite everything my father had told me growing up, I thought it would be possible for the two of us to marry. But Sarah was far wiser than me. I have had to be satisfied with her being merely ... my lover,” he said quietly, saying the words as if he had never spoken – perhaps never even thought – of Sarah in that regard before. “And, so I seek a wife. I need a legitimate heir.”

There was a long silence before Charlotte reached over to put a hand on his. He’d spoken of Sarah as if he still loved her. Perhaps he still did. She had borne him a son, and yet the boy could never take his place as the next Earl of Gisborn. “And why me?” she whispered.
I am doomed to unrequited love,
she realized suddenly. To Gisborn for certain and to Joshua ... perhaps.

Gisborn sat up straight, surprised by the question. “Your father did not ...?” At Charlotte’s shake of her head, he furrowed his brows and shook his own head in disbelief. 

Charlotte leaned forward. “As you know, he had an accident and has been in a coma for over a week,” she whispered. “I believe he was trying to tell me of his arrangement with you when the accident happened.”
No wonder Father was so angry. He’d signed over the deed to Ellsworth Park thinking I would marry Gisborn!
Dismayed, Charlotte wondered at her father’s logic. He had no direct heirs, so Nicholas, her cousin, stood to inherit everything. Giving the unentailed land to Gisborn meant Nicholas would not have access to it – thus preventing him from selling it off for funds to pay gambling debts.
Then my sons would benefit.

A brilliant scheme, now that she thought about it.

But her father hadn’t explained himself that day.

Or that night.

Gisborn leaned his elbows on his knees. “As you probably remember, my lands and your father’s are adjacent in Oxfordshire. I thought to unite them, make them of a size large enough to warrant the work that needs to be done.” At Charlotte’s questioning look, he added, “For irrigation, improved farming techniques, better forestry. I knew your father owned Ellsworth Park, so, when he summoned me to London last month, I thought it was his intent to sell me the property.”

An alarm was going off in Charlotte’s head, so loud she almost didn’t hear his next words.

“Imagine my surprise when he offered the lands as a dowry,” he said offhandedly.

“Imagine,” Charlotte repeated quietly. A thought struck her and she glanced up at Gisborn. “And, was that
in addition
to the ... ten thousand pounds?” she asked quietly, suddenly having a difficult time breathing given the sob that was stuck deep in her throat. She knew the answer even before Gisborn gave her a look of even greater surprise than her own.

“There was no offer of money, Lady Charlotte. Just the land. I hardly think I could take the land
and
any money,” he reasoned, a hint of a grin making him look ever so handsome.

And you could not take money that was no longer there,
she did not say aloud, a sense of dread settling over her.
Oh, Father, what have you done?
“If I were to accept your proposal, when ... if there is one, Gisborn, could you .. do you suppose ..?” Charlotte sighed and looked away, her face flaming in embarrassment.
Was it too much to ask that a man love her?
she wondered, suddenly feeling ever the fool.

Gisborn’s hand had once again captured hers. “Although I love another, and I think I always will, I assure you that I will treat you with the kindness and respect you deserve. And I promise I will provide you with almost anything you want,” he said quietly, squeezing her hand as he made the vow. “I only ask that you allow me to bed you exclusively until you provide me with two sons. And then I shall not mind if you decide to take a lover.”

Charlotte took a deep breath and regarded the earl, stunned by his terms. His offer was generous, she knew.
He would allow me to cuckold him! I could never!
And he already had the lands. He could walk away right now and still own Ellsworth Park. “Might I give this some thought?” she asked then, not beginning to know what her answer would be.

“Of course. I must head back to Bampton soon, though,” he stated as he nodded his head, “But I feel it only fair to give you as much time as you need. I am ... sorry that you did not know of your father’s intent. I would not have been so ... rude in there,” he whispered, his manner suggesting he was embarrassed over his earlier behavior.

“I accept your apology, of course. And I give you one in return. My manner with you earlier was not very ... ladylike,” she murmured, her eyes downcast.

Gisborn lifted a finger to her chin. “You are willful. Your father warned me. But it is part of your charm, I think.” He stared into her eyes for several moments, and then, quite unexpectedly, he leaned in and kissed her. The kiss lasted only a moment, but Charlotte found herself returning it in kind,
a kiss to seal a contract,
she thought as she felt his warm lips lock onto hers and press gently. And then it was over as quickly as it had begun when he pulled away. One of his arms had wrapped around her shoulder and was settling against her back when she realized what was happening and winced. She felt her stitches pull tight and inhaled breath through her teeth as she quickly leaned forward and away from his heavy arm.

“Have I hurt you?” Gisborn asked as he removed his arm and reached out to take one of her hands in his. Long fingers wrapped about her small hand, surrounding it with a warmth that Charlotte found comforting. When she looked into his eyes, she found genuine concern there.

“I ... I have a wound that is still healing. I just have to be ... careful, is all,” she answered, tempted to blame
him
for the gash between her shoulder blades.

Alarmed, Gisborn tensed and his hand squeezed hers almost too hard. “Did ... Did Wainwright do something to hurt you?” he fumed, his anger so sudden that Charlotte had to lean away from him.

Charlotte shook her head. “No!” she insisted quickly. “My father ... he was angry when I refused to consider our betrothal,” she tried to explain. “He’d been drinking, and he did not explain himself well that night and ...”

“What did he do to you?” Gisborn’s voice was suddenly harsh, his lust for vengeance so close to the surface that Charlotte was reminded of Joshua’s reaction.
So very much the same, these men.

“He ... he whipped me,” she whispered, her eyes avoiding Gisborn’s intense stare. The words were out before she realized she’d said them, and it was too late to stem the tide of anger that washed over the earl. His hands reached around to her shoulders and pulled her so that she faced him as he angled his own body.

“I’ll kill him!” Gisborn vowed, his hands grasping her shoulders so tightly she was sure she would be left with bruises.

“No,” she murmured, her head shaking from side to side. “You mustn’t. Besides, he may be dead already,” she whimpered. At that moment, all of her pent up anger at her father let loose, and unable to shout or scream or use her fists to beat on the man that sat next to her, tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Her sobs finally overcoming her, she allowed her head to fall against Gisborn’s shoulder. She cried, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she wept.

Gisborn let go her arms and made quick work of the buttons down her back. Once the bodice of her gown was undone, he spread the fabric apart and gently slipped his fingers under the layer of bandages across her back. Charlotte heard and felt his sudden intake of air as he looked at her wound from over her shoulder, felt through his body the sense of repulsion and horror as he took in the sight of the series of black stitches marching across her back. She felt the very lightest pressure of a fingertip as it trailed alongside the wound, the sensation sending a tickling shiver through her back.

Gisborn carefully replaced the bandage over the wound and wrapped his arm about her waist, hugging her to him as tightly as he could. “If he is not yet dead, I shall kill him,” he whispered hoarsely, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. “I am so sorry, Lady Charlotte. It was not supposed to be like this,” he whispered, his lips taking purchase on her temple and forehead to leave hard, urgent kisses.