Page 91 of The Duke of Deceit

“You are incorrigible,” she scolded. Then she added with a sigh, finally admitting the truth to herself, “And I love you for it.”

With a raffish grin, he dropped his left boot from the seat and temptingly brushed it against her calf. Prickles of excitement raced up her leg. She prayed to God that she never grew used to the feeling of his touch, even one so incidental.

“You know…” He teased the tip of his boot beneath her skirt and caressed the inside of her leg. “It’s a very long ride to Gretna Green. Days and days.” His eyes gleamed wickedly. “We might have to find something to do to pass the time.”

Unable to resist, she pushed herself off the seat and crossed the compartment to sit on his lap. She wrapped her arm around his neck, then leaned in to whisper seductively into his ear, “I might have a few ideas.”

“Why, Miss St Claire!” His feigned offense was simply laughable as he made quick work of unbuttoning her bodice. “Are you attempting to seduce me?”

“Well,” she panted out as his hands wandered over her body and beneath her skirt, “I would hate for you to turn completely respectable.” She sucked in a sharp breath that faded into a sigh as his hand moved deliciously along her thigh. “I think…I might like keeping…a bit of a rake in you.” When his hand caressed between her legs, she shuddered and let escape a low moan of pleasure. “Oh, my goodness…”

“Trust me, my love.” With a grin, he reached over and pulled closed the curtains. “Goodnesshas nothing to do with it.”

Epilogue

The Ealing Farm

December 1819

“Slowly,” Jess instructedas she held still the bowl filled with snow as Phillip carefully poured a mixture of lemon juice and sugar into it. “That’s it…just a little at a time.”

He bit his bottom lip in concentration, and Jess couldn’t help but smile. In the past few months since the wedding, she’d come to love him as much as if he were her own brother.

“You’re doing wonderfully well, Phillip.”

He released his lip only long enough to briefly smile, then furrowed his brow again as he refocused on his task.

A few inches of snow had fallen during the night and blanketed the farm and countryside in a thin veil of white that reminded her of sugar dusting on gingerbread. Sadly, Jess knew it would all melt by tomorrow, but for now, they could enjoy this blast of winter. So she’d offered to show Phillip how to make flavored ices from the snow. They’d bundled up in their coats and boots and headed out into the front garden where a long patch of pure white snow stretched across the grass. Now they sat on the ground on folded blankets to keep the snow from wetting their clothes, with their cooking utensils scattered around, and enjoyed the bracingly cold winter’s day.

They were making their second bowl of fruit-flavored ice, and Phillip had taken to the process as he had every new experience recently—with exuberance.

She’d decided to make the ices into a special treat for Lucien when he returned from London. His favorite flavor was strawberry, and she and Phillip had already stirred the strawberry and sugar slurry mixture into the snow, then carefully poured it into a small jelly mold and set it aside in the snow to refreeze. It would go perfectly with the vanilla cake Mrs. Porter was making for dinner…a very special dinner that Jess and Lucien would take alone in their rooms tonight.

It was her turn to bite her bottom lip, and not because she was concentrating on the ices. She needed time alone with her husband, and a private dinner for just the two of them in front of the fire in their sitting room would be the perfect evening for it.

“Very good,” she complimented Phillip. “Now set the pitcher aside, take the wooden spoon, and stir it all together with the snow.”

He did as instructed, and soon the bowl was filled with a creamy, icy mixture. The sweet scent of lemon wafted up on the cold air.

“Do you remember how I showed you to fill the jelly mold?”

He nodded and ever so carefully poured the snow mixture into the copper mold. He concentrated so hard that his hands shook as he scraped out the bowl with the spoon to capture every drop of icy sweetness.

Yanking off her mitten, Jess darted a finger into the mold and scooped out a taste. Its sweetness ached on her lips. “Delicious! Phillip, you’re quite the skilled cook.”

He laughed at the compliment, half in embarrassment, half with pride.

Since Jess had become a permanent part of Phillip’s life, he had simply blossomed. He’d become even more outgoing andindependent than before, and with that, his frustrations had lessened. His outbursts were now fewer and farther between, and he had been able to take on more responsibilities around the farm, both with chores in the barnyard and in the house. Which meant Jess and Lucien were able to spend longer stretches of time in London tending to duties there without worrying about him here, knowing he was safe and sound with Mr. and Mrs. Porter. But it also meant they were able to bring Phillip to London with them on occasion. He had been given his own room in Brixton House that was filled with all the things he liked, including a new set of art supplies. Yet he preferred being here on the farm with its animals and open spaces.

To tell the truth, so did Jess. The little farm had become a warm, loving place, and Mr. and Mrs. Porter had become like new parents to her, welcoming her with open arms and full hearts.

And to think, all it took was getting married.

She nearly laughed! So odd to think that so much in her life had changed simply because she’d uttered the words “I do” and signed her name in the parish registry. But that’s exactly what had happened. Her life had changed so much, in fact, that she barely recognized what had come before.

There had been no elopement after all. Well, no elopement to Gretna Green anyway. Instead, Lucien suggested they travel to his country estate in north Cambridgeshire and be married there by special license by the village vicar…a special license that Seamus Douglass, Duke of Malvern, just happened to arrange with the Bishop of London the day Lucien met with the lords in Westminster. Jess was glad of it, too, because it meant that instead of wasting days traveling north, they wasted them instead in their bed chamber. When they weren’t making love, she rode out with him across the estate to meet the workers, tenants, and villagers, explored the large house, and wept withhappiness when he gave her the old, empty orangery to turn into her art studio so she could create during the months they planned on spending there every year.

“Now, carefully take the mold and put it over there in the snow.”