Page 36 of The Duke Not Taken
She stepped back from the duke. She cleared her throat and tucked a bit of hair behind her ears. Her bonnet, she realized, had gone missing.
“It’s not my place, but you really ought to have more of a care, madam,” Marley said. “You might have scarred the young lass for life.”
“She’ll be fine! Once, when I was a girl, I was riding with the captain of the guard and was thrown from a horse and nearly trampled by a regiment, and look at me, I’m very well.”
“Are you?” he asked dubiously.
“I do appreciate your assistance. We Ivanosens are not easily kicked out of the game.”
“Ah. Well, I’m happy to have been on hand to intervene before I found you dead on my drive.”
“I see you are determined to admonish me,” she said with a bit of a smile. “But remember, to err is human. To forgive divine.”
One of his thick brows rose above the other. “The words of a long-dead pope won’t minimize my concern.”
All she wanted was for him to stop looking at her like she’d stolen his dog. “If the words of a long-dead pope don’t move you, then perhaps you would prefer the words of a poet. ‘Sweet mercy is nobility’s true badge.’”
“We’re to sweet mercy, are we?” Marley leaned forward, close enough that she was looking into those slate-colored eyes again, and she felt a rush of heat race up her spine so quickly that she forgot what she was talking about. “‘Foolishness is indeed the sister of wickedness.’ How doesthatsuit you, Your Royal Highness?”
It suited her in ways she didn’t understand. Her thoughts felt a bit muddied. Frankly, all of her felt muddied, like one jittery mess, and she was sure it had nothing to do with the horse ride. “That’s very good. Monsieur Klopec—he was our tutor—was of the firm opinion that memorization was the way to a healthy brain.” She tapped her head with one finger. “I commend you.”
He almost smiled. Almost. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a very peculiar woman, Your Royal Highness?”
“No. But thank you! I will take that as the compliment I am sure you intended. And again, my thanks for your assistance.”
“For saving you from disaster, you mean.”
“That, too.” She turned to her horse, prepared to make a stunningly graceful getaway. There was just one problem with that idea, and she turned back to him. “Could you give me a hand up?”
With a smirk of superiority worthy of a king, he cupped his hands. She slipped her foot into them, and he lifted her up. She settled herself onto the saddle and took the reins. The horse was docile now, worn out by her burst of uncontained energy.
The duke put a steadying hand on her leg. “Have you got the reins?”
His touch burned through the fabric of her gown and singed her skin. Amelia smiled prettily. “Complete control.” And with that, she spurred her horse into a trot, knocking his hand from her leg when she did.
But that spot on her leg burned all the way to Iddesleigh.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MR. EUGENECOXarrived from London at Hollyfield at precisely half past two. He was a punctual man, which Joshua appreciated. Mr. Cox was the duchy’s estate manager. He was the sort of man to not care who was the duke, as long as he was paid for his work.
He entered the study looking rounder than the last time Joshua had seen him; the buttons of his waistcoat strained against his belly. He greeted Joshua as if they were old friends and plunked a sheath of documents onto the desk. He had, as previously requested, reviewed all the duchy holdings to determine specifically what Joshua could and could not dispose of.
At the time, Mr. Cox had not seemed even slightly concerned or interested in why. If he’d asked, Joshua would have told him that he needed the review so that he could make some decisions. The same decisions he’d been trying to make for two years since Diana’s death.
What was to become of his life? That question kept him awake at night. Caused him to chop wood, as if trying to pound the answer out of him.
Unfortunately, Mr. Cox was not filled with good news. “There are old entails that will require further research,” he said. “And considerations such as taxes that must be addressed. Not to mention the deed restrictions.”
There were so many things to consider, apparently, that Joshua stopped listening.
When Mr. Cox finished listing all the reasons why Joshua was not to even consider the slightest change in the duchy holdings, he placed his hands atop his round belly and sat back, awaiting Joshua’s charge.
Joshua scratched at his unruly beard as he considered his options. “I understand your concerns, Mr. Cox. Nevertheless, I should like you to determine what must be done in order that I may sell Hollyfield and vacate the title. I ask only for my own edification. It is a discreet inquiry, of course.”
“Of course.” Mr. Cox looked offended by the suggestion it could be anything else. He began to pack up the papers, clearly displeased by Joshua’s response to his warnings. Why should he be? Mr. Cox wasn’t the duke. He didn’t have to shoulder the responsibilities of the title.
The gentleman hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, but he paused. “I beg your pardon, I nearly forgot. I have received an interest in the purchase of the abbey.”