‘Oh, there you are, dearest,’ her godmother remarked as she felt her goddaughter stiffen and turned round to look for a cause. ‘Hughes said you had gone to inspect the bullpens at Home Farm with Givage,’ she said with a warm smile for her nephew Jessica would never dare replicate even if she wanted to.
‘We saw a travelling carriage pull through the South Gate. How could I not be present to greet Miss Pendle when she is our honoured guest, Aunt Mel? Surely you brought me up better than that?’ he teased. ‘I take it Lord and Lady Pendle rushed off to meet their latest grandson and left you to honour the family obligations, Miss Pendle?’
‘Indeed, and it seems to me as if everyone knew how my sister and her babe fared long before I did, your Grace,’ Jessica informed him stiffly and wished she could be as natural with him as she was with gentlemen who didn’t make her heart beat at the speed of a runaway horse and her knees wobble anew.
‘The messenger arrived this morning,’ he told her as if soothing one of those runaway horses. ‘We hoped your mama might be able to follow you here, but she says she must stay at Dassington lest poor Rowena be driven half-mad by her doting husband and assorted well-wishers,’ he added, descending the steps with such fluid ease Jessica frowned, then lifted a hand to rub it away before it betrayed her.
‘Good day to you … Martha, is it not?’ he greeted with a respectful nod that made her maid blush with delight and look at least ten years younger. ‘Had we known you were looking after Miss Pendle’s well-being, my aunt would have fretted a lot less.’
‘Thank you, your Grace, you are very kind and we all knew Miss Jessica would be safe as houses once we were under your roof,’ Martha replied with a curtsy fit for a king.
‘And here’s Miss Jessica all present and correct,’ he added redundantly as he stepped down to her level at last. ‘Welcome, Cousin.’
‘We bear no relationship to each other whatsoever, your Grace,’ she objected, getting a sharp look from Martha and a disappointed sigh from Melissa, but no discernible reaction from the man himself.
‘How unforgivably forward I was in danger of being, Miss Pendle,’ he countered.
‘And think how flattering that would have been for me, your Grace,’ she said, ironically feeling that blush threaten again as his gaze became sardonic.
‘I dare say the flattery would have been all mine,’ he said so smoothly that an observer might think he was being charming.
‘It certainly would,’ she defended herself.
His gaze seemed to grow sharper and she did her best to breathe defiance at the idea she was an easy target for his charm. Reminding herself the Pendles had been robber barons when the Seabornes were still little more than pirates, she tried her best to fight off her own wicked, deep-down notion that there was little point hanging on to those defences when she was marked for a life of spinsterly solitude. She did her best to ignore the very notion of letting herself ever be so undefended in his presence and instead imagined his wild rover ancestors squaring up to the ruthless overlord who had been her grandparent at many removes.
From what she knew of them, it would have been such a hard-fought contest their retainers would have had to pitch their tents and settle in for the night before their leaders conceded neither could win and shook hands on their mutual villainy. Suddenly the thought of swordsmen and spearmen on one side and trident and cutlass-wielding sailors on the other, falling asleep propped against their weapons and their rascally fellows, as their principals snarled defiance at each other, seemed so irresistibly funny she giggled, then did her best to pretend she hadn’t.
‘Spring fever,’ she explained as he raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘It’s come on a little late this year then, has it not?’
‘Maybe the sign of a golden summer,’ she offered a battered olive branch.
‘And how very welcome that would be,’ he said politely, but somehow she felt as if she had disappointed him.
‘Speaking of welcomes, this is a very poor one indeed,’ her godmother exclaimed. ‘We are keeping you out here in all this wind, my dear, and it looks to me as if the heavens might open at any moment, whatever nonsense you two are talking about it being summer. Come now, Hughes …’ she turned to order the resident butler, who was hovering at the top of the steps ‘… have Miss Jessica’s luggage brought inside then conduct her maid to the Queen’s Room so she may supervise the unpacking. We shall take tea in the Blue Parlour as soon as Miss Pendle has put off her travelling cloak and bonnet.’
‘My aunt is undoubtedly right,’ the Duke told Jess as if making up his mind about something more important than the weather.
Jessica had only a second to wonder before he swept her up in his arms and ran up the steps as if she weighed little more than a feather. For a moment she was breathless with shock and a novel excitement that threatened to leave her blushing and overwhelmed in his arms. All his warmth, strength and certainty suddenly seemed hers to command and … and nothing was less likely.
‘Put me down,’ she demanded.
‘You’ll fall over if I do,’ he informed her coolly.
‘Then I’ll fall over,’ she said flatly.
‘Not on my steps you won’t,’ he said as if that ought to settle the matter.
‘I concede that would be mightily inconvenient, but we are at the top now, so will you set me down?’
‘Please?’
‘Why, what do you want?’ she replied childishly and felt the high ground of ladylike disdain fall away.
‘For us to be polite to each other for once, Hedgehog,’ he retorted, reverting to another youthful taunt for his aunt’s awkward godchild.
‘And you think this is a good place to start?’ she said, cross with herself for letting a note of hurt invade her words.
‘No,’ he conceded, shifting her in his arms as he seemed to decide his duties as host bade him finish what he’d started.
Jessica suddenly felt she would pay too dear for the fleeting pleasure of being in his mighty arms like this. ‘Please will you set me down now?’ she almost pleaded as they finally arrived in the Blue Parlour the family always used and he looked for the best place to deposit the awkward female he had literally swept off her feet.
‘Your wish is my command, Miss Pendle,’ he lied, as he deposited her on a sofa, then bowed with an overdone flourish that was obviously intended to defuse the tension that had drawn tight between them.
‘Hah! That’s a likely story,’ she said and saw relief in his eyes as the world shifted back on to its proper axis.
‘True, although anything reasonable you happen to want just now is probably within the limits of my patience,’ he said with a wry grin she did her best to resist.
He turned to greet his aunt. ‘Forgive me for leaving you behind, love, but I thought you’d feel better if your favourite godchild was safe in your parlour where you can fuss over her in peace while she recovers from her journey.’
‘I am prepared to wait for Jessica to put off her bonnet and spencer before I do that,’ his aunt almost scolded him as she swept forwards to deal with the former while Jessica wriggled out of her spencer. If she didn’t demonstrate some independence right away Jack might hustle her out of it himself and ruin the effect all the lovely distance she’d put between them was having on her jumping nerves.
‘Jack, take these into the