“Yes, as in Chardonnay and Gamay grapes. For winemaking.”
“Surely not in England?” Payne added. “Then again, I have heard the weather is quite nice in Hertfordshire this time of year.”
“Strange,” Peverill added. “Are you pleased with the news?”
Justin sighed. “There’s still more work to be done. Is anyone in the market for British-made wine?”
He meant it as a joke, but it seemed to fall flat.
“Perhaps the manor could be presented as a French chateau? Nestled in the heart of Hertfordshire’s rolling hills?” Payne tried, but even that sounded ridiculous.
“What say you, Peverill?” Justin asked. His friend rubbed his jaw, contemplating.
“I’d say that there might be a few noblemen or rich bastards like myself interested. But they would be few and far between.”
“Tell me you’re not speaking of business already!” Alice Nichols’s firm voice filled the room. She carried a load of towels under her arm and a maid followed her, a steaming pitcher of water in her hands. “My son was nearly in his grave a few days ago, and you all have the gall to be discussing such things.”
Peverill and Payne looked at the ground, swallowing, but Mrs. Norris held her head high. “I thoroughly agree with that sentiment, Mrs. Nichols.”
“Good! Everyone out, then,” she said, shooing the company through the door once more. She turned to face Justin, hands on wide hips. “Heavens above, my boy! We paid well for that doctor’s advice; it would do you good to actually follow it.”
Justin could not help but smile. Alice’s straightforwardness was a welcome balm. He’d missed her this past month. There was nothing secretive about the woman. She was loud and loving and completely capable. “You’re right,” he said, giving in. “But I warn you, it will take convincing to keep me here for the next few days. I’m feeling fit.”
“The heart of a lion, just like your father, God rest him. But we’d better wait for your body to catch up,” Alice said. Once the maid had set the pitcher down, Alice dipped a towel in the warm water and began wringing it out.
Justin snatched the towel from her hand. “Thank you, but I am capable of changing my own dressing,” he said.
Alice narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you’d given up on being difficult.”
“Showing you that I don’t require your help does not mean I am being difficult,” he muttered, concentrating as he undid the bandages with his good hand. It was taking longer than expected.
“If you don’t want our help, maybe you would prefer someone else’s,” Alice replied. “Lady Cordelia!”
Justin’s head went up at the sound of her name. Alice had caught her passing the duke’s rooms. Her face grew flushed as she walked through the doorway, a stack of books in hand.
“Since my son is refusing our help, perhaps you would be willing to change his bandage?” she said, smiling. Justin bit the inside of his cheek. That old fox was up to something.
“Oh, I was just going to return these books to the library—” Cordelia stammered.
“Excellent! I think he would enjoy some fresh reading material as well. It will keep him out of his business affairs, for the time being at least,” Alice said, pushing the maid out of the room.
“Oh, well, I was rather hoping—”
Alice slammed the door in Cordelia’s face. Justin couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Not exactly subtle,is she?” Justin asked as Cordelia spun around, pressing the three books to her chest. It was the best protection she had from him at the moment.
The duke was leaning against feathered pillows, an easy grin on his face. A strand of unruly hair fell onto his forehead and he had a few days’ worth of stubble built up on his chin. Cordelia leaned against the closed door as she eyed him, failing to fight the blush that was creeping up on her cheeks, and the spark of longing she felt in her chest.
She’d made up her mind about accepting Rhys’s offer and then this man had to be laid up in bed, looking devilishly handsome and rumpled and damnably hers for the taking. It was very unfair on his part.
“Between her and Lady Billings it will be quite a show at the ball,” he added.
Cordelia tried to find the words but was having a difficult time thinking straight. Placing her books on a side table, she walked toward him, hands clasped in front of her skirts, trying to play at being demure. She wondered how the image would hold, now that he’d seen every inch of her without any clothes on. Besides manners, Cordelia had no armor remaining, and that left her nervous.
“Your bandage needs changing?” she asked, pointing to his forearm.
