ChapterThirteen
A Surprisingly Honest Answer
Jane was not sure what had prompted her to ask about the Duke’s name, but the longer she had thought on it, the more it seemed like the obvious question to ask. She had not, however, expected Blake’s response.
He looked shocked, though he tried to hide it. Yet, even as he smiled, Jane noticed an odd tension on his face.
“What do you mean? It is my name,” Blake answered after a moment, still leaning against the tree, though Jane could see the tension in his frame.
I appear to have hit a nerve.
Her curiosity was piqued. “It is not your Christian name, though. The genealogies of your ancestors make no mention of a Blake. All I could find was that it was your second name.”
“And how would you know that?” Blake pushed off the tree, shifting to his feet and raising an eyebrow at her.
Jane said, “I looked it up. In fact, most of your male ancestors were either called Arthur, Ambrose, or Alexander.”
As she said each of the names, Jane studied Blake’s face. For the most part, it remained impassive, but she saw a slight frown as she said each name.
He shrugged. “I am flattered that you were so interested in me.”
“Do not flatter yourself too much. After all, I only had to look you up because I could not remember who you were. And I do make a regular habit of studying genealogies.” Jane admitted that history was one of her great loves.
“The fact remains—you were thinking about me.” Blake grinned at her.
“You are avoiding the question.” Jane gave him a pointed look.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Blake sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was even more windswept than usual. “Perhaps it is that I simply do not understand your meaning.”
“Then let me speak plainly. Your name is Ambrose Blake Rochester, the Duke of Caden, yet no one seems to call you Ambrose. In fact, you ask people not to. Why is that?” Jane frowned at him.
“Do I have to have a reason?” Blake asked.
Jane shrugged. “No, but I feel like you do. Remember, you did promise to answer my question truthfully.”
“I suppose I did.” Blake exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.
It unsettled Jane slightly to see the usually cavalier man so somber and serious. When he looked up at her, though he was smiling, there was something earnest about it and somehow distant.
Blake looked away from her, beginning to pace. “Very well. There are a few reasons, but I will share the primary ones if that is all right with you.”
Jane thought for a minute. “It is.”
“The first is that I hate the name Ambrose. I have hated it as long as I can remember, and it never really suited me.” Blake frowned. “As soon as I went to school, I used Blake or Rochester.”
“So you were Blake far before you were Blake the Rake,” Jane murmured more to herself than anything else.
“You may be surprised to know that rakes are not, in fact, formed in infancy.” The Duke smiled at her.
“Very funny. I am not so naïve that I expect babies to be little more than lotharios. That would be more than a little disgusting. They are babies!” Jane frowned at him. “You are distracting me again.”
“But it is so much more fun.” Blake gestured around them as he resumed his pacing.
“Why do you hate the name Ambrose?” Jane asked as she watched him pace around the clearing.
