Читать книгу Tall, Dark... Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 56

‘You look wonderful, Jane!’ Arabella’s face was flushed with excitement two evenings later, as she looked with pleasure at Jane’s transformed appearance in the new gown she was to wear for the dinner party this evening.

To Jane’s heartfelt relief she had not seen much of the Duke of Stourbridge in the days that had followed that embarrassing incident in the stables, his time having been occupied with estate business.

Everything about that time together was an embarassment to Jane. The wantonness of her response. The evidence of that response when she had seen that she had actually ripped off one of the buttons on the Duke’s fine linen shirt in her desperation to touch his flesh. Even worse had been the moment when she had looked down and seen her own state of undress, and realised just how intimately she had allowed the Duke to touch her.

Jane had been so stricken by that realisation, so mortified by what she had encouraged to happen between them, that at that moment she had only been capable of gathering together her dishevelled clothing before fleeing the stables as if the devil himself pursued her.

Not the Duke. He was not the devil who pursued her. It was the evidence of her own wanton behaviour that did that.

That the Duke was just as shocked by what had occurred between them had become equally apparent when he had avoided even taking his meals with the ladies of the house over the next two days.

Jane had caught the occasional glimpse of him from her bedroom window as he walked the parkland with seemingly tireless energy, checking the livestock, or the crops in the ploughed fields with his estate manager, with little apparent concern for the state of his clothes and boots. Or for Dolton’s tearful state when he saw them. This was an occurrence Jane had had occasion to witness for herself one evening, when Dolton had trailed unhappily from the Duke’s apartments with dirt-spattered clothes and boots in his hands.

Fortunately Lady Arabella, realising from the Duke’s lengthy absences from the house that Jane was no more in his confidence than she was herself, had first grudgingly and then more readily begun to spend time in Jane’s company. The only negative aspect of this was that Jane, filled with a new urgency to escape Markham Park, now had very little opportunity in which to find a way to further her travel arrangements to Somerset.

It had occurred to her to wonder at one point whether Lady Arabella was deliberately preventing her from having time alone in which to achieve that goal—possibly at her brother’s instigation, following the suspicions he had voiced concerning Jane’s visits to his stables. But as Arabella’s demeanour became distinctly frosty whenever the Duke’s name was so much as mentioned, Jane decided that was not the case.

Arabella had, however, thrown herself wholeheartedly upon her brother’s instruction that Jane would need a new gown for the dinner party—resulting in the two women having taken a carriage ride into the nearest town, and then making a second journey on the following morning so that the gown might be fitted and have last-minute alterations made.

Obviously there were some advantages to being the sister of a Duke. Her gown had been made to fit perfectly in just twenty-four hours!

‘Did I not tell you that the pale cream silk with the slightly paler lace would be perfect on you?’ Arabella prompted now with satisfaction.

Yes, Arabella had assured her of that. And as Jane’s experience of choosing material and style for a new gown was non-existent, she had been only too happy to allow the other woman to take charge.

One glance in the mirror showed Jane that she looked transformed. High-waisted and styled off-the-shoulder, with tiny puffed sleeves and a low neckline, the cream silk dress seemed to drape round her shapely curves rather than cling to them, and her hair had been styled into fashionable curls and escaping ringlets this evening by Arabella’s own maid.

It was difficult to imagine, as Jane looked at this pleasing image, that she was the same young lady who had been forced to wear that unbecoming yellow gown only days ago.

‘I wonder what Hawk will make of your appearance?’ Arabella mused gleefully.

Jane had been wondering the same thing—although probably not for the same reason!

Tonight she looked elegant—pretty, even—the gown giving her poise and style, and a maturity she had hitherto lacked. Completely unlike that yellow gown, which she believed had made her look like a huge piece of unbecoming fruit!

Jane could not deny, however, that her pleasure in her changed appearance was marred a little by the fact that, much against her protests, the Duke was to receive the bill for her new gown.

But how could it be otherwise when Jane had so very little money of her own? Sir Barnaby had given her a small allowance, and Jane had managed to save some of it, but she was not even sure it would be enough to pay for her passage to Somerset, let alone purchase a new gown and gloves.

Arabella’s assurances that the Duke would not even notice one new gown amongst her own costly purchases had done very little to allay Jane’s feelings of discomfort at having to accept such largesse from a man who could have nothing but the worst opinion of her.

‘Oh, what could I possibly have said to bring that frown to your brow?’ Arabella clasped Jane’s hands in her own as she looked down at her searchingly. ‘Does the mere mention of my autocratic brother make you unhappy, Jane?’

‘In all probability, the answer to that is yes, Arabella.’ The Duke spoke abruptly from behind them before Jane could make any reply, causing both women to turn—Arabella with some surprise, Jane with reluctance. ‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled as he stood languidly in the doorway. ‘I am not sure Mulberry Hall or its guests this evening will be able to accommodate two such lovely ladies.’

Jane felt the blush that warmed her cheeks and heated her body as that unfathomable golden gaze moved over her with slow deliberation. She was relieved that Arabella forestalled the need for her to respond to the Duke’s mockery as she moved to her brother’s side and smiled up at him triumphantly.

‘Have I not done well, Hawk?’ She beamed. ‘Does Jane not look beautiful?’

‘You have done very well, Arabella,’ Hawk confirmed dryly.

In truth, he was more than a little stunned by how ravishingly beautiful Jane looked in her new finery. The cream gown with its delicate lace adornment adding a lustre to the smooth perfection of her skin, her eyes were a clear, translucent green in her heart-shaped face, and a cream ribbon threaded amongst her red curls added to their fiery depth of colour.

He was aware that Jane had avoided being in his company at all these last two days, quietly leaving the room if he should enter it, her gaze averted as she did so.

Not that he did not deserve to be treated with such coldness after almost making love to her—in such a way, and in such a place, that she could not help but be insulted by it.

Oh, yes, Hawk knew he completely deserved Jane’s newly felt aversion to him. Knew it, and aided that aversion by retreating to his library when he was not working about the estate.

Unfortunately for him Jane looked every inch a beautiful and confident young lady tonight. So much so that Hawk was having trouble keeping his gaze from her.

‘I came to bring Jane these,’ he bit out abruptly, and he held up the pearl necklace and earbobs he had brought with him in the hopes of them becoming a possible truce-offering between them.

It seemed that Arabella had been far too busy these last days, organising her dinner party and ministering to Jane’s need for a new gown, to notice the coldness that now existed between himself and Jane. But Hawk did not doubt that once this evening was over his sister would not be able to help but become aware of the strain between them.

His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘But I cannot help but wonder, now that I have seen how lovely she looks already, if it would not be gilding the lily…?’

‘Oh, no, Hawk. I think the pearls are a perfect choice!’ His sister beamed her approval, herself a vision of loveliness in a glowing-pink gown. ‘Do you not agree, Jane?’ she prompted warmly.

Jane could only stand and stare at the necklace and earbobs that looked so delicately lovely in the Duke’s large but elegant hands, totally stunned, after days of silence, by his making such a gesture.

She wondered where the pearl jewellery could have come from. Surely the Duke had not purposely purchased them for her…? If so, then no matter how enchanted Jane might be at the idea of his having done such a thing on her behalf, it would be the height of impropriety for her to accept.

‘Of all Mother’s jewels, these will certainly suit Jane the best,’ Arabella approved delightedly.

Jane’s startled gaze rose from the pearls to the Duke’s now unreadable expression. The necklace and earbobs had belonged to his mother? The former Duchess of Stourbridge?

Somehow that knowledge made his offer that Jane should wear them this evening an even more intimate gesture than if the Duke had gone out and purchased them for her.

She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘I am sure your offer is a kind one, Your Grace, but I really could not even think of wearing something of such a—a personal nature to your family.’

Hawk looked at her searchingly. Those green eyes were now huge in the otherwise paleness of Jane’s face. Was Jane refusing to wear the jewellery because it had belonged to another woman? Or because it was he who suggested she should do so? Was Jane so angry with him, so disgusted with him, that she would not even accept this gesture of apology on his part?

Despite Jane’s avoidance of his company since the episode in the stables, Hawk had been pleased to note the two young women were much together, and he was grateful to Jane for taking such an interest in his young sister. Remembering that Jane had no jewellery of her own to wear tonight, he had impulsively decided to bring her the pearls.

But one glance at Jane’s slightly stricken expression and he knew he had once again acted in error. Could he do nothing right where this young woman was concerned…?

‘Come now, Jane—they are only on loan to you,’ he assured her irritably as he stepped farther into a bedroom that, apart from the gown she had recently taken off, which now lay draped over a chair, showed little sign of Jane’s occupation. But then, from the little luggage she had brought away with her from Markham Park, Jane did not have many personal possessions with which to adorn it. ‘Turn around, Jane, so that I might put the necklace on,’ he instructed with impatient briskness, his inner anger directed at his own behaviour towards Jane as much as at the guardians who had treated Jane with such neglect.

Hawk did not doubt that Jane had been warm, clothed and fed during the years she had lived at Markham Park, but when those things had been so grudgingly given he felt that Jane might have been better served going to people less wealthy who might have loved her. Now that he knew Jane better—perhaps too well…?—Hawk was sure that the Sulbys’ emotional dereliction had been more cruel to someone of Jane’s temperament than any deprivation of food or warmth could ever have been.

He had followed Jane to the stables that day with the intention of telling her of his plans to make enquiries on her behalf concerning other, more kindly relatives that she might have. He had failed to do so, and her frosty manner since he had made love to her had certainly not invited confidences of any nature.

Hawk had not yet received any word back from his enquiries, but the moment he did he knew he would no longer be able to delay discussing Jane’s future with her. And whether Jane believed him or not—and no doubt she would not!—he had acted only out of concern for her.

But those enquiries had become all the more urgent, he acknowledged grimly, since making love to her!

Jane looked up at the Duke guardedly, where he stood before her expectantly, not knowing quite how to respond to his instruction. If she refused absolutely to wear the pearl jewellery then she knew she would upset Arabella as much as the Duke. She had come to value the other girl’s friendship these last few days, and did not doubt that to refuse to wear the jewellery of Arabella’s dead mother would put that intimacy in jeopardy.

It was a dilemma the Duke made no allowances for as he took Jane firmly by the bareness of her shoulders to turn her so that her back was towards him.

Jane tensed expectantly. She knew that in a few seconds the Duke’s fingers would once again brush against her nape as he secured the clasp of the necklace.

Her breath caught as his arms moved about her, so that he might drape the necklace about her throat. The slightest touch of those long, elegant fingers seemed to sear the bareness of Jane’s flesh, causing her to quiver involuntarily, quickly followed by an uncontrollable trembling as he smoothed the ringlets from her nape.

If the two of them had been alone then Jane would have lost no time in turning to confront him, to firmly assure him that she was perfectly capable of securing the necklace herself. But they were not alone. Arabella was standing as silent witness to any exchange between them.

Jane could only hope that the Duke did not intend to attach the earbobs himself…

No matter that it was two days since the Duke had kissed her, nor that they had rarely exchanged a word since then, Jane knew that her insides would melt entirely if the Duke did not soon stop touching her so intimately.

How could it be that his slightest touch made her feel this way? The touch of a man who, when he was not making love to her, provoked her to such feelings of antagonism at his arrogance that she argued with him constantly?

Jane did not have the worldly experience to answer these questions herself. Neither did she have someone to whom she could voice these questions—no one in whom she could confide. She certainly could not tell Arabella of the unimaginable longings that surged up inside her whenever the Duke—Arabella’s own brother—touched her!

It did not help that he seemed to be taking an age—or possibly it just seemed that way to her sensitised flesh?—to secure the clasp. Jane was starting to feel slightly lightheaded, and she found it difficult to breathe…

This had not been one of his better ideas, Hawk acknowledged with self-disgust as the gentle arch of Jane’s nape, the soft perfume of her hair, her very closeness, all seemed to cause him more physical discomfort than he would have wished.

‘There,’ he rasped dismissively, as the catch finally caught and he could step back from Jane’s disturbing proximity.

‘Oh, they really are perfect on you, Jane!’ Arabella moved forward to clasp Jane’s hands in her own as she looked at her admiringly. ‘You have exquisite taste, Hawk,’his sister added, with what Hawk realised was the first genuine smile she had directed at him in some time.

Even so, it was a smile that Hawk had no chance to respond to, because Jane turned to face him and all of his attention became transfixed on her.

The delicate cream-coloured pearls nestled softly against the swell of her breasts, visible above the low neckline of her new gown. Breasts which gently rose and fell as she breathed, causing Hawk’s jaw to clench and his mouth to tighten. He could not seem to take his gaze from her rounded softness.

The Duke looked so grim, Jane noted regretfully, as she moved one of her hands to touch the pearls at her throat. ‘Perhaps…’ she began, her voice husky. ‘Perhaps now that you have seen the pearls again, Your Grace, you would prefer it if I was not to wear them?’

They were his mother’s pearls, after all, and had once adorned the no doubt delicate throat of the Duchess of Stourbridge. As such it must surely seem like something of an insult to her memory for them now to be worn by a young woman whose irritating presence had been forced upon him.

A young woman who, although the Duke was not aware of it, did not even know the identity of her real father…

‘I hope you realise, Jane, just how insulting it is to even suggest that might be either Arabella’s feeling or my own!’ he rasped impatiently. ‘As Arabella has already assured you, the pearls complement your gown perfectly,’ he added with haughty dismissal, before turning away. ‘Come, Arabella.’ He held out his arm to his sister. ‘It is time we went downstairs to await the arrival of your guests.’

Even as Jane inwardly acknowledged how well brother and sister looked together, both so tall and elegant, she could not help but feel disappointed—contrarily so!—that the Duke had made no particular comment on her own appearance. His only compliment had been upon how beautiful the new gown was, and how well the pearls looked with that gown. A gown that he himself had instructed to be chosen and which, in time, he would also pay for.

Despite Jane’s inner turmoil of emotion over the last few days, whenever she had recalled the way the Duke had kissed and caressed her, she had found Arabella’s excitement about her dinner party infectious. Had even found herself looking forward to the occasion almost as much as the young hostess.

But now Jane had been reminded of the fact that the gown she wore was not really hers—that the pearl jewellery was only on loan to her for the evening. She was, in effect, merely a cuckoo in borrowed plumage.

She bowed her head. ‘I will join you both downstairs shortly. I—I have the earbobs to put on yet,’ she excused lightly, when she saw that Arabella was about to protest her need for delay. ‘I assure you that I will not be long, Arabella,’ she said warmly.

‘See that you are not, Jane.’ The Duke was the one to answer her stiffly as he escorted his sister to the door.

Jane waited until the two had left her bedchamber before moving to sit down in front of the mirrored dressing table.

The pearls did look well with the gown and Jane’s newly styled hair, but as she looked at her reflection she could find no pleasure in them. Could only look at herself and berate herself for a fool.

For she had made a great discovery about herself when the Duke had touched her and the warmth of his breath had softly caressed her nape. Had realised in the last few minutes, when her main emotion when she’d turned to face him had been deep hurt as he had looked and spoken to her with such coldness, that she was falling in love with the Duke of Stourbridge.

A man even more unsuitable for Jane to fall in love with—if that was possible!—than Jane’s real and married father had been for her mother…