“I think ye should go to London, my lord. Since I am so ugly, ye widnae have difficulty finding a prettier woman, one ye deserve. Ye might even find a widow, one who has already borne a child, and ye would then have yer surety she could do the same for ye.”
He said nothing. She took another deep breath.
“But in case ye dinnae find a woman to yer taste in London and ye returned here unwed, might I borrow some money so ye dinnae come back to find me famished and wasted and unable to fulfill my potential future duties as yer wife?”
She had not told an untruth and said she would marry him. Or couple with him. Although it might come to that. But she would not think on that possibility now. She would only think on the money and the food the money would buy.
The seconds stretched out as Reeves considered her and her proposal. Finally, he drained his goblet and set it down with a loud clank.
“I’ll have my steward give you some money and write out a note for you to sign. You do know how to write your own name, don’t you?”
She gritted her teeth.
“Aye, my lord. I do.”
Five
Jack ate his first dinner as the possible future Duke of Dunmore alone. Afterwards, he went and lay on the sofa in his drawing room and considered going out and paying to have something really filthy done to him at Madame Flora’s. It would fill an hour or two and sate him temporarily.
Phineas had turned down going to the brothel since he currently had a randy widow keeping his bed warm for him. George had never liked using whores and had been entertaining the same mistress for the last three months or so, also a widow. And Edmund had also refused to come along. He had not said why, but Jack knew Edmund had a difficult time convincing Cyprians to accommodate his phallus, an organ as outsized as the rest of him. Madame Flora must not have any in her employ currently who were willing.
But Jack might visit the brothel alone. Most men did, after all.
He thought idly about maybe going to Scotland. What he might pack. How much whisky he would drink once there. And would he find a lusty Scottish lass to frolic with him? Of course, he would. Dozens of them. Women loved him. His charm and his looks would not be any less in the far reaches of Scotland.
And there was that countess up there. If she were not too unattractive, he would sneak her away from her earl for a little fun. Why shouldn’t he give some pleasure to a countess in the middle of nowhere? There could be nothing to stop her from dallying with him, apart from her duty to her husband. But Jack knew ways of making that duty seem very small in comparison to his cock. After all, women had no sense of loyalty. They were all faithless. Just like his mother had been. Just like—
No. Think of something else.
Scotland. Scotland might be a bit of an adventure for him. And he wouldnotgo as the possible future duke. Edmund’s idea of going as Jack Pike was damn near verging on brilliant. Yes. He would go as Captain Pike. Let him stretch out his time as a carefree and notorious rake as long as possible.
He turned on his side.
Because damn being duke. Damn the duchy of Dunmore. If only he could go back in time to this morning when his sole problem had been finding his next mistress.
He heard a knock, his butler’s voice, some rustling in the front hall. Jack had an unexpected caller. He got to his feet, combed a hand through his hair, felt his cravat to make sure it was straight.
“Her Grace, the Duchess of Dunmore,” his butler intoned at the drawing room door and withdrew.
The woman he had just banished from his thoughts. Here, in his house.
Elizabeth was as lovely as ever. Her raven-black hair. Her large violet eyes. That beauty mark next to her full lips. Her short stature which still offered a gorgeous, perfect bosom. One breast of which, he knew, had a beauty mark next to the areola to match the one by her mouth.
He cursed himself. Why had he just pictured the naked breast of the woman he hated?
“Your Grace.” He bowed. “I offer my condolences.”
“YourGrace.” She curtsied. “I offer mine.”
“I do not need condolences. And I am not Your Grace yet.”
“No. That’s true.” She smiled sadly. “I suppose everything hinges on whether or not I have my courses in the next few weeks. And if I am with child, whether or not I then give birth to a son.”
“Yes.”
She nodded and for just a moment a crease appeared in her forehead. “I can’t decide if you would like that, Jack.”
He couldn’t decide, either. He did not want to be duke. He liked his easy life, his wealth, his mistresses. But right now, some childish part of him was liking the fact that if he were made duke, the woman in front of him would be shut out of most of the privileges she had enjoyed for the last five years. She would be relatively poor, and he would still be rich. And a duke.
