Page 13 of Maid for the Duke

‘It is not as terrible as you assume. Lady Elizabeth has a limited time to enjoy her life as a debutante. I do not wish to spoil that. One day, we will finalise the details of our marriage and then, of course, we will spend some time together.’

‘I do not mean any disrespect to Lady Elizabeth, but what if you make your agreement official and then after find out you are ill-suited?’

He shrugged. ‘I have eight properties. I expect we will come up with a solution that is agreeable for everyone involved.’

‘So these truly are your four months of freedom,’ Amelie mused.

‘And this is how I choose to spend it.’ He motioned at the beautiful countryside around them, but his eyes lingered on Amelie for a moment, and she felt an unfamiliar fizz of excitement deep inside.

The path narrowed as they entered Grantchester itself and wound its way past a few pretty cottages before emerging out onto the main road through the village. Amelie did not want the walk to end. She had enjoyed learning about the duke’s life, but more than that she had found herself surprisingly at ease in his company.

‘Thank you for carrying my basket all the way home,’ Amelie said as they reached the front door of the cottage.

‘And thank you for your company and conversation.’ He bowed to her as if she were his equal, before disappearing inside the house.

Amelie leaned against the doorframe, watching his retreating back, her thoughts slipping back to the morning in the river and that single moment when his eyes had held hers. She had wanted him to kiss her then, and she wondered if he had felt the same.

Quickly, she shook herself. He had been the perfect gentleman this afternoon; he was always the perfect gentleman. She had to remind herself that Lord Beescroft opening up to her a little about his past did not mean there was any special bond between them. No doubt he was lonely, still struggling with his grief, and Amelie was a convenient ear. There was nothing more to it than that.

Chapter Seven

The light had faded too much for Will to be able to concentrate on his drawings, so instead he had put his sketch book aside and focussed on planning the next chapter of the book. This was what he had spent the day discussing with two of the professors at Peterhouse. He valued their insight into his work, but they both had different ideas on how much of his book to dedicate to each subject area.

Professor Grafton favoured the idea of a comprehensive overview of all native species of flora and fauna, which would be a great reference, but would not allow for any great detail of the plants and animals Will described. Professor Leigh preferred a different approach. He advocated a book that mentioned many of the species, but focussed on a select few, allowing the reader to understand the habitats and feeding patterns of the animals included as well as the conditions needed for the various plant species to grow.

Will had settled on a compromise, although his compromise leaned more towards Professor Grafton’s opinion. He wanted his book to be the reference for the flora and fauna of Great Britain. For it to achieve that status, he would need it to be comprehensive. Every plant and animal would need to be included. To break up the repetitive format a little, he had decided that, as well as a comprehensive look at the plants and animals, he would have half a dozen small sections dedicated to looking at some of the most impressive in more depth.

When daydreaming, he mused about writing a second book, this one taking his favourite plant and animal species and allowing a whole chapter for each, but he had to remind himself his time was not unlimited. Soon the real world would start calling and he would not have time for indulging his passions any longer.

Although it had been his choice to come to Cambridge, he had not expected to enjoy his stay here quite as much as he was. Part of that he knew was due to Amelie. He thought of their walk together by the river back to Grantchester earlier that afternoon. He had not planned to divulge so much about his reasons for being here or his grief over losing his sister, but there was something about Amelie that made him want to talk. Unlike most people, she truly listened to what he was saying, but there was more to it than that. She was gentle in her manner, asking questions in an unassuming way that made it easy to talk. So often he felt people only wanted to see the Duke of Ashmead, the façade he put on for parliament and society; it was refreshing to talk to someone who did not care about any of that and only wanted to see the man underneath.

There was a soft but insistent knock on is door and he stood quickly, pleased at the interruption for once.

Amelie stood outside, her face alight with excitement.

‘Come quickly, Your Grace, I have something to show you.’

Will turned back to blow out the candle he had been working by. It was dusk, so not dark enough to need extra illumination to move around the cottage, but he had needed the additional light to write.

‘Please hurry,’ Amelie said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. As their fingers met Will felt his skin fizz and tingle at the contact.

It was an entirely inappropriate gesture, one he could not imagine any of his other servants ever thinking of making, but Amelie did not even seem to notice.

Her hand was warm and soft, despite all the manual labour, and as she pulled him towards the stairs he had the thought that he didn’t want her to let go. He had been valiantly trying to deny the attraction he felt every time he looked at her, but in the small space they shared it was difficult to avoid it.

Will swallowed, trying to keep control of himself, looking down at her hand in his. It was only a hand, nothing more, nothing scandalous, but even this minor contact had his body on edge and his mind in a muddle.

‘What is so urgent, Amelie?’ he said, trying to keep his voice level as their bodies collided as she paused at the top of the stairs.

‘Will you trust me?’

He was taken aback by the question, but found himself nodding anyway.

‘I want you to see something beautiful.’

Still holding his hand, she led him downstairs, pausing at the bottom, only to press a finger against her lips as she looked back at him. Then she was off again, pulling him towards the kitchen and then out of the back door of the cottage.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The moon was just starting to rise and the sky was not yet completely dark; there was still a blue tinge that hinted at the day that was fading away. There was a little terraced area where a small table and pair of chairs sat just to the side of the back door, and then the rest of the garden was laid to lawn. Around the edge was a border of flowers and closer to the river there were a couple of medium-sized trees.