She was also hoping to become the next Duchess of Sedgewick.
The latter had been made as plain as the chapped, work-roughened skin on Joceline’s hands after enduring three days of presiding over every meal and entertainment for the duke and his guests. True to her word, she had managed to keep her distance from him, playing her role flawlessly, leaving no room for Mr. Dunreave to find fault with her after her lapses of sanity in the salon and library.
She faced her duties with a new resolve, doing her utmost to contain the burning, agonizing jealousy that sliced through her whenever she found herself in the same room as the gorgeous Lady Diana. Because although she knew it was wrong and that it was certainly no fault of the lady’s that their stations in life were so dissimilar, Joceline hated the constant reminder that she was the kind of woman a duke kissed secretly behind closed doors, but Lady Diana was the kind of woman a duke would marry.
And for his part, Sedgewick seemed to have accepted her denial of his overtures. No more furtive embraces in shadowy rooms. No more invitations to his bedroom. Instead, he was occupied by escorting Lady Diana about and by accompanying his mother. It was just as well, she had told herself, trying to ignore the deep sense of disappointment the realization inevitably caused.
At least she could be secure in her situation. No one would sack her. She could remain the housekeeper at least for a year, at which point the duke might be newly wed or about to marry, and she could collect her bounty. She would move on to a new position before the pain of watching Sedgewick take a wife and begin a family.
With a heavy sigh, she entered her darkened chamber, where the only light was from the small, flickering fire in the grate, closing the door behind her. And instantly noticed the large, undeniably masculine figure in the shadows.
A gasp tore from her.
“Hush,” came Sedgewick’s familiar voice, a low, decadent rumble that made her heart leap. “You have no notion how difficult it was for me to sneak into your chamber.”
She pressed a hand over her wildly beating heart, trying to suppress the sheer joy that had risen within her at his presence, regardless of how wrong and dangerous it was. “Your Grace, you shouldn’t be here.”
He stood to his full height, towering over her, so tall that his head nearly reached the low ceiling of her room. “I know, but I had to find a way of seeing you since you didn’t come to me, and I didn’t want to risk during the day with the earl, my mother, and Lady Diana all underfoot.”
His voice was quiet, and she was grateful that he was indeed taking care. But he was here, in her room! He had been sitting on her bed. If Mr. Dunreave were to find out…
“No one will sack you, Joceline,” Sedgewick reassured her as if he could read her thoughts, moving to stand before her. “I promise you that. You needn’t fear for your position.”
She wetted her lips. “But Mr. Dunreave?—”
“Is also in my employ,” he interrupted firmly. “I understand your trepidation where your character is concerned, but please know you may be my housekeeper until you choose otherwise.”
His words did somewhat assuage her fear that Mr. Dunreave would see her sacked. However, his presence in her bedroom was still forbidden.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “But you must go. You cannot be in my private room.”
“Do you want me to go?” he asked.
She closed her eyes for a moment, blotting out the sight of him, but it didn’t aid her ability to resist him this time any more than the last. “Your Grace…”
“Quint,” he murmured. “When we are alone, I would have you call me Quint.”
It wasn’t the first time he had offered the invitation, of course. But she had been forcing herself to think of him as the Duke of Sedgewick, regardless of the intimacy he so temptingly offered.
She opened her eyes again to find him looking down at her with such naked yearning that an ache sprang forth deep within her. “You know I can’t. Allowing familiarity between us is foolish.”
“Is it?” He took her hands in his, and she allowed it, wanting his touch even as she knew she shouldn’t. “Why is it foolish? Tell me.”
“You know why. Because you are a duke, and I am your servant. It is simply not done.”
“I don’t care about what society thinks is proper.”
“As a duke, you have that liberty,” she reminded him. “As a housekeeper, I do not.”
“I don’t think I ever despised the shackles my title places upon me, at least not truly. Not until now.”
They stared at each other, silent meaning passing between them, hunger sparking to life, dangerous and heady. The illicit nature of their meeting, the shadows in her room, the flickering fire, the small quarters—all contributed to cast a sensual spell over her.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, desperate to keep these unwanted feelings at bay, to resist him.
“I want…” His words trailed off for a moment as his gaze devoured her face. “I want to court you.”
A hysterical laugh bubbled up from within her. “You cannot court your housekeeper.”
