Duke of Arrogance, page 18
“But what of the ball tonight?” Elizabeth asked.
Arabella shrugged. “It’s only one ball. Papa can send my regrets. He may say I had a headache.” She smiled brightly. “Come along, Arthur. I will set a few tasks for you now and ask you about everything under the sun in order to see what gaps need to be filled in.” Turning to Jon, she added, “Your Grace, I will see that Arthur gets home safely tonight. I will see you at the garden party tomorrow afternoon, Elizabeth.”
With that, she took the boy’s arm and led him back up the stairs.
Jon nodded to himself. In their bout, round one had been handily won by Lady Arabella Jennings.
But a match could go many rounds. Jon planned to be the eventual victor and claim Arabella as his prize.
Chapter Twenty-One
A month had passed. Jon had watched Arabella blossom before him. She was more popular than ever among the gentlemen of the ton. Some of the women were still cool toward her though many had changed their opinions and offered her friendship. Her sweet spirit and positive outlook—combined with a modiste who had done wonders with her wardrobe—had allowed Arabella to receive invitations far and wide to various events.
She never danced with him. He hadn’t asked her. He knew she would refuse him and while it wouldn’t mean anything to him, her action might hurt her reputation. Women in Polite Society didn’t go around turning down dukes.
Instead, he tried to be near her at smaller events. She remained coolly polite but showed no real warmth toward him. He was ready to tear his hair out from want and need. He watched men flitting about her, trying to attract her attention, and a slow burn raged within him.
He lived for the weekly reports she presented to him regarding Arthur. Of course, they were never alone when these occurred. She thought it would be helpful for Arthur to hear about his progress at the same time and so the boy was always present. Sometimes, Lord Barrington also sat in on these meetings since he had a hand in the boy’s education and discussed books and philosophy with Arthur.
Today, though, everything that Jon had been working toward should come to fruition. He’d whipped Arthur’s interest in an exhibit at the British Museum and his cousin was eager to view it once he left Arabella’s company today. Jon only hoped the earl would join in the weekly progress report for his plan to work.
He arrived and Stone admitted him. Handing the butler a sealed letter, Jon said, “You are to give this to me when I am leaving with my cousin. Say it just arrived for me and it is important I read it at once.”
Being a well-trained butler who would never turn down a request from a duke, Stone nodded. “Yes, Your Grace,” and led Jon toward the earl’s study, where the weekly meeting took place.
As he entered, he saw Lord Barrington and Arthur engaged in a game of chess. Arabella sat behind her father’s desk, chewing on a pencil as she looked at a piece of parchment. She made a mark on it and then glanced up. For a moment, her guard was down and he saw a vulnerability in her before a coolness lit her eyes.
“Good morning, Your Grace. I was just finishing up marking your cousin’s latest essay. Won’t you have a seat?”
Jon took his usual spot and Arabella sat across from him. The chess game halted and Arthur asked, “How was my essay, my lady?”
“Quite good,” she complimented. “You had no fragments and no problems with your subjects and verbs agreeing. I only found one dangling modifier. Your content was strong. Your argument easily persuaded me and the entire paper was organized and cohesive.”
Arthur flushed with color, pleased by her praise.
“As for everything else, Arthur has progressed well this week.”
Arabella launched into a detailed account of what had been accomplished in their studies over the past several days. Jon only half-listened, thinking his scheme through. He had told the earl of his continued interest in Arabella a month ago when they’d ventured to Tattersall’s. The older man had listened and then told Jon that he’d had a chance with his daughter and that others now were showing their interest. It would be up to Arabella to decide whom she wed—or even if she did. The earl’s response hadn’t pleased Jon but he could certainly see where Arabella got her stubbornness from.
Lord Barrington then reviewed two books Arthur had read at his request and gave a lengthy description of their discussion. Jon tried to not fidget and look interested.
Finally, he said, “I am more than pleased with my cousin’s improvement in all areas.”
“I still believe you may wish to hire a separate tutor for mathematics,” Arabella said. “I am teaching Arthur to the best of my ability but math never was my strong suit.”
“I’ll consider it,” he said thoughtfully. “Arthur, are you ready to attend the exhibit?”
“Yes, Jon,” his cousin said enthusiastically. “I shared with Lord Barrington that we were going.”
“You did?” He looked to the earl, pleased that Arthur had already laid the groundwork. “Might you have interest in going with us, my lord? The exhibit will end soon. That is, if you do not have plans now.”
“I could go,” Lord Barrington said. “Young Arthur has piqued my interest in it.”
Jon rose. “We should be going.”
“Leave the chess pieces where they are, Arthur,” the earl said. “We can pick up on our game tomorrow morning.”
He deliberately held back so he could walk with Arabella.
“You are doing excellent work with my cousin,” he praised. “How are thoughts of your future school coming along?”
“Papa and I have been looking for a property but haven’t settled upon anything yet.”
Good.
They reached the foyer and Stone played his role to perfection.
“Your Grace, this just arrived for you. The messenger said it was most urgent.”
“Thank you, Stone.”
Jon took it and broke the seal. “Hmm.”
“Something wrong, Jon?” Arthur asked anxiously.
He frowned and then shook his head. “No, but I won’t be able to take you to the British Museum now.” He looked at the earl. “Lord Barrington, I hate to disappoint my cousin. Is there any way you might escort him in my stead?”
“I’d be happy to,” the earl declared. “Time with Arthur is always time well spent.”
“Oh, thank you, my lord,” Arthur said.
“Stone, call for the carriage,” Lord Barrington ordered. “No, on second thought, let’s go to the stables, Arthur. I want to show you a horse I recently purchased. Then we can have the carriage readied.”
Jon knew which horse since he had recommended its purchase. The earl had taken up riding again, something he hadn’t done since his youth. Jon had tried to talk to Arabella about teaching her to ride but she’d put him off, saying she was much too busy to devote time to learning something new at this point.
The pair left and as he slipped the letter into his coat pocket, she asked, “Is it bad news?”
“Not at all. In fact, it’s rather good news.” He paused. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up but I think I may have found the ideal site for your school.”
“What?”
“I had my solicitor look into it and he has found what he believes to be the perfect property. A former bookstore.” Jon held up the key which had been placed inside the letter. “Would you care to go see it now? The message reads that the son who inherited the place doesn’t wish to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a bookseller. He is already a solicitor and is satisfied in his work. My solicitor’s note indicates there are several others interested in the property, however, and I should look at it immediately in order not to lose out.”
Arabella hesitated a moment and then said, “Stone, please send for Annie so she may accompany us.”
The butler left and she asked, “What else do you know about the place?”
He knew everything because he’d not only visited it twice—he had bought it to show her. If Arabella didn’t like it, he would merely sell it.
“It stands empty now. According to my man, other bookshop owners have been allowed in to buy up the inventory. Other than that, it is a mystery.”
“My lady, you needed me?”
“Yes, Annie. You will accompany His Grace and me on a brief errand.”
“Yes, my lady.”
They went outside to where his carriage stood. A footman placed the steps down and assisted Arabella into the vehicle.
As he did, Jon turned and quietly told the lady’s maid, “If you wish to keep your position after Lady Arabella becomes my duchess, you will stay in this carriage once we reach our destination.”
The young woman blinked and then gave an imperceptible nod. She climbed inside, taking a place beside her mistress, and Jon followed, sitting opposite them.
As they rode, Annie placed a hand against her temple and sighed. Arabella, ever in tune to those around her, asked, “Is there something wrong?”
“Just a bit of a headache, my lady. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“We should turn the carriage around,” Arabella proclaimed.
“No, don’t do that, my lady. I merely had a restless night. The headache comes from lack of sleep. I think I’ll close my eyes and rest them for a bit.”
Annie did so, leaning against the side of the coach. Jon decided she should be on the stage. Her performance was natural and convincing. Arabella placed a finger to her lips to indicate they should be quiet and so the rest of the trip was spent in silence.
When they arrived, Annie was puffing soft breaths at an even rate.
“Don’t wake her,” he said quietly. “She looks as if she could use the rest.”
Arabella nodded as he ventured from the carriage and offered his hand to help her down the steps.
“See that Lady Arabella’s maid is not disturbed,” he told his footman. “If she awakens, send her inside. We will be viewing the property.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
He went and inserted the key and opened the door, ushering Arabella inside. The bottom floor received good light, thanks to the abundant windows. They walked around inspecting things.
“It is nice the bookshelves have been left behind,” she said. “They could be used in the school’s library.”
“I agree. The library could be here.” He walked a ways and added, “This could be a common room for the boys to gather between classes in order to visit or study.” Walking further, he added, “This could be reconfigured and a small kitchen added.”
Her brows knit together. “Why a kitchen?”
Jon laughed. “I’ve only been recently reminded how much boys Arthur’s age are hungry. They grow faster than weeds. A hungry boy will be thinking about his belly aching and not translating Homer from Greek to English. Especially if you are interested in serving a less fortunate population of pupils, feeding them might be the only time of day they eat well.”
Arabella grew thoughtful. “That is a very good point, Your Grace.” She pursed her lips as her brow creased as she concentrated.
He wanted to taste those lips. He wanted to hear her call him by his name again. He needed her so badly he ached.
“Shall we look upstairs?”
They moved up the staircase to the first floor. It was entirely open with no divisions or barriers.
“My solicitor told me this is where the bookseller stored his extra stock. You could turn this floor into classrooms. It would be easy to put up several walls. I would also suggest adding several windows to let in more natural light.”
“I agree. This would be perfect for that purpose. What is on the third floor?”
“The owner lived above the shop. He also let several rooms out for extra income. There is a rear staircase from the second floor that exits in the alley behind the structure, making it easy for tenants to come and go.”
“Perhaps I could turn those into classrooms, as well.”
“I think it would be wiser to leave it as it is. Your tutors could live on the top floor. If you hired a cook, room and board could be included, in addition to their salaries, making the position highly attractive.”
“That would be convenient,” she admitted.
“The owner’s rooms could be given to your headmaster since they are much larger.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “I was thinking I would be in charge of the school.”
“You will own it and make sure of its direction. Hire its staff and see which boys are enrolled as pupils. But you would need a headmaster for the day-to-day running of the place.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Why don’t we go see it?”
Jon took her elbow and guided her up the stairs, which narrowed considerably from the first to the second floor. Her subtle, floral fragrance wafted toward him. He knew Annie wouldn’t be coming in anytime soon. She knew what he was up to and wouldn’t want to interrupt. He allowed Arabella to walk around, viewing all the rooms on that floor, and they finally wound up in what had been the owner’s residence. It consisted of a small parlor, kitchen, and a bedroom.
“This is ideal,” she said. “Did your solicitor share with you how much the seller wants?”
He named a figure that was half of what he’d paid for the property and her eyes widened.
“Oh, that is far better than what Papa and I have viewed in the last few weeks. This neighborhood is much better, too.” She smiled. “I believe we should act quickly to purchase it before someone else makes an offer.”
He took her elbows in hand, her eyes widening. “There is another offer that you should consider.
“Mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Arabella had fought her feelings for this man long enough. It had been incredibly difficult acting nonchalantly around him since his return from Suffolk. She had encased her heart in stone, tucking it and her foolish dreams away, pretending nothing had taken place between them. She had feigned indifference and avoided speaking to him as much as possible. Their weekly meetings regarding Arthur’s progress had been hellacious as she spoke dispassionately and stifled the tremendous attraction she felt for him. She had wasted far too many hours trying to figure out what had gone wrong between them, only knowing something had and it couldn’t be cured.
Until now.
The heat is his eyes darkened the blue until his irises were almost black. His grip tightened on her elbows, ensuring she wouldn’t be going anywhere until he said whatever he was going to say to her.
“Offer?” she repeated weakly, tamping down the faint hope that had sprung within her when he clasped her.
He didn’t speak with words but chose actions instead. Oh, dear Lord, her heart pounded furiously as he slowly lowered his head. She wanted to flee as a scared rabbit might when pursued by hounds but he made sure she stayed in place.
Then his mouth captured hers. The kiss was achingly tender, sweet and soft, rending her heart in two. She thought her heart, though scarred, had healed. That she’d put the shattered pieces back together but they came apart swiftly at his loving touch. His lips caressed hers slowly, causing the blood to rush to her ears, its pounding so fierce that she couldn’t hear at all.
Arabella didn’t need to hear. She only needed to touch. To taste. To inhale the scent that was Jon. Her fingers found his coat and gripped it tightly. His arms went around her, pulling her to him. She clung to him as if on a ship being battered by a storm at sea. If she let go, she would drown.
He urged her to open to him and she did, feeling like a flower opening to the rising sun. His tongue swept inside her mouth and his kisses were long, deep, passion-filled ones. She heard noises come from both of them, hers more like a mewling kitten, his sounding like the growl of a lion taking possession and declaring he ruled over all.
Her breasts began to ache, the nipples coming to life as Jon crushed her to him. One arm remained secure around her waist as his other hand roamed freely up and down her spine, stroking her like a cat. She arched into him, causing a delicious sound from him. His fingers pushed into her hair, pins spilling everywhere, as he massaged her scalp. Lovely tingles rippled through her and the place between her legs began pounding viciously, wanting . . . something.
He now tugged on her, pulling her head back, the kiss going even deeper, longer, as if he wished to touch her very soul. Arabella found herself melting like butter in a hot pan, beginning to sizzle as sparks of desire ran through her. Her hands slid up his hard chest and entwined around his neck. He broke the kiss and nuzzled her neck, kissing and nipping and licking her, causing waves of shock to run through her.
His lips trailed up her throat and to her ear, his teeth gently tugging on her lobe, sending a flame of fire that heated her throughout. His warm breath tickled as he said, “You are mine, Arabella. Always.”
His mouth returned to hers, his kisses hard and demanding. Her legs began to buckle as her bones liquefied. He had her by the waist and lifted her. She found her back against a wall and he pressed his hard body against her soft one. It yielded. She yielded.
She wanted him. Every limb vibrated with need as her core pulsed hard and fast. She whimpered, needing something desperately and not knowing what to ask for.
His hands left her waist and captured her hands, raising them high above her head. Jon pinned her wrists with one large hand, leaving the other free to touch her. He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. Stroked her throat. Murmured things she didn’t understand, his lips against her skin. His fingers ran along the neckline of her dresses and then plunged inside it. They burned wherever they touched. He found her breast and cupped it, kneading it. She arched her back again, feeling open and exposed with her hands held high, forcing her breasts toward him.
He pushed aside her gown, exposing her breast. Then his mouth was upon it, sucking and laving and driving her to the brink of insanity. His tongue flicked across her nipple, now hard and aching and she whimpered again, her breath coming in uneven spurts. She cried out.
“Say my name,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous.
