Chapter 5 #2
Justina stole another glance at Gregory as she slipped beneath the cool bed linens and lay back on the slightly lumpy mattress.
He had removed his waistcoat, and as he draped it around the chair he was so determined to sleep in tonight, the glow from the fire drew her eye to the broad, capable-looking shoulders filling out his obviously expensive white cotton shirt.
She let her gaze travel down his back, over his backside and thighs, and her body flushed with heat as she wondered if he was the sort of man who usually slept in the nude.
She very nearly asked him but managed to hold her tongue. It wasn’t easy for her, but she’d probably teased him enough for one day.
He really was the sweetest man, protecting her honor, ordering her a tray of food, offering to take her to Cheshire in the first place.
He would make a considerate husband when he married.
The observation made her realize she knew very little of his personal situation. She could safely assume he was single—he’d never mentioned a wife, and if he had one, he was hardly likely to be here with her now, not a man as honorable as him.
But what about before now? Was there a wife in his past? A wife who had died, perhaps, leaving him a widower?
Justina glanced at the duke again and watched while he wrestled with the woolen blanket he’d draped over his legs, trying to get comfortable in the uncomfortable chair that would be his bed for the night. Stubborn man.
But he’d made his chair and now he must lie in it.
“Your Grace,” she said. “May I ask you a question?”
“It’s Gregory,” he reminded her, still shifting about in his chair. “And you may ask me anything you like.”
“Gregory, then.” She curled her arm under her pillow to prop her head up. “Have you ever been married?”
He seemed to hesitate, as if weighing his words, though surely it was a simple enough question. “No. I…was betrothed once for a short time, but she—” He paused, pressing his lips together briefly. “But it ended.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, and though she burned to ask what had happened, she forced herself to exercise restraint.
He shrugged one shoulder. “It was for the best. She loved another man.”
“I see.”
He was trying so hard to appear unbothered, but she wasn’t fooled. The lady from his past had not loved him, but Justina suspected he had loved her very much. And then he’d let her go.
She knew what it was like to suffer a broken heart, though her loss was very different from his. In a way, his was worse. She had lost Phillip, but at least he had loved her.
“Well, if you ask me, she sounds exceedingly idiotic,” she said mildly, and smiled when he choked out a surprised laugh. “Any woman who doesn’t want a lovely man like you must be positively deranged.”
He met her gaze, a smile on his lips. “Lovely?”
She grinned. “Handsome, then. Handsome and virile.”
She was flirting with him again, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She liked his smiles as much as she liked his blushes, and she wanted more of them both.
“Thank you,” he said, amusement lacing his voice. “Truthfully, though, I’m happy for her and wish her only the best.”
Not every man would be so generous to the woman who had broken his heart, but she could see that he was sincere and it struck her again what a decent man he was.
“Well,” she said softly, “I still think she missed out when she let you go, Your Grace.”
“Gregory,” he reminded her again, his voice rough now. His dark eyes held her captive, even from across the room, and a tingling shiver rushed down her spine and settled between her thighs.
“Right. Well.” She swallowed. “Good night, Gregory. And thank you again. I could have made this trip alone, but I’m glad I didn’t have to. I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” he said. “But, in all honesty, my coming along wasn’t entirely selfless. I told you I could use a reprieve from London and that was the truth.”
“Oh, right,” she said. “Trouble with a woman.”
“Yes, trouble with a woman.” A wry smile turned his lips. “My mother.”
Justina’s brows rose in surprise. His mother? She had not expected that. In her experience, men usually adored their mothers. Phillip certainly had, but then, Lenora had been an easy woman to adore. Perhaps the duke’s mother was not so agreeable.
“Why are you running away from your mother?” she asked.
His head fell back against the chair and he sighed. “She’s been pressuring me to marry,” he said. “Which is not an unusual thing for a mother to do, I suppose. But she wants me to marry a woman of her choosing, the daughter of her closest friend.”
“Ah,” Justina said. “And you don’t wish to marry this daughter.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Is it because of your lady? The one you lost to another man?”
He shook his head, his gaze still on the ceiling. “No. Olivia has nothing to do with it.”
But he fell quiet after that and Justina wondered if he was being truthful, and if he was thinking of this Olivia person and regretting his loss anew. Did he still love her? Did he still wish she was his?
The thought set off a twinge in her chest that she didn’t expect or appreciate. Why on earth should she be jealous? The duke was nothing to her, and if he was still in love with this woman from his past, what of it? It made no difference to her.
“I have no objection to the lady herself,” he said quietly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “Jane is sweet and intelligent, and I have no doubt she would make an excellent duchess.”
“But?” Justina prodded.
“But I feel nothing for her. And when I finally do marry, I want it to be for love.”
He shrugged self-consciously, as if embarrassed by the admission. As if a duke—a man—shouldn’t hope for such things.
“And your mother is of the opinion that a duke should be more practical than that?”
It was a guess, but Gregory’s humorless chuckle told her she had hit the mark.
“My mother is of the opinion that she knows best about everything, even my life. Especially my life.” He raked a hand through his hair then let his arm fall to his lap, his frustration evident in every movement. “I love her dearly and I know she loves me, but sometimes I wish...”
He trailed off with a sigh that said his wish was hopeless.
“But sometimes you wish she loved you a little less?” Justina finished for him.
He nodded. “Ridiculous as it may sound, yes, I do. But I’m her only child—her only family, really—so...” He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, what can you do?
She admired him for his devotion to his mother, but she could certainly understand his frustration. He was a grown man, after all. He should be able to make his own decisions without feeling guilty about it.
“I’m sorry,” she said sympathetically. “I wish I could offer some helpful advice, but I’m afraid I have no clue how to handle a duke’s meddling mama.”
Gregory smiled. “Neither does the duke with the meddling mama.”
That smile of his was a dangerous thing, rueful and disarming and entirely too attractive for her peace of mind.
Right. Time to sleep.
“Well. Good night, Gregory.”
“Good night, Justina. Sweet dreams.”
But as she turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, she had a feeling her dreams tonight would be anything but sweet.
Not with this enigmatic, adorable, oh-so-desirable duke just across the room.