The Spring Duke (A Duke for All Seasons) by Jillian Eaton

Author:Jillian Eaton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: regency era, regency duke, Regency romance, New Release Historical, Historical Romance, Best selling romance, 99 cent romance
Publisher: Jillian Eaton
Published: 2019-04-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

“There goes another one.” From her vantage point inside the gazebo, Victoria watched as a woman hurried out of the house and turned down the lane. “How many does that make?”

“Five,” Athena replied without looking up from her drawing. She’d never been a very good artist – you’re too quick, her tutor had exclaimed on more than one occasion – but she did enjoy doing a simple sketch from time to time. This morning she was attempting to capture the bird’s nest two ambitious finches were building in a blackthorn tree outside the library window. Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, the nest was looking more and more like a potato.

“Are you sure?” Grasping one of the gazebo posts, Victoria swung in a half circle. Following Athena’s example she’d taken off her bonnet almost as soon as they’d gotten outside and one of her long blonde braids caught her across the cheek. She tucked it impatiently behind her ear. “I thought there were six.”

“Is there one I’m forgetting?” Athena tapped the end of her pencil against her chin. For the past hour and a half potential governesses had been entering – and leaving – the duke’s residence in quick order. He was conducting interviews in his study, but from the expressions on the governess’s faces as they left it wasn’t going very well. “There was the older woman with the gray curls and the young girl with red hair.

“I’m glad he didn’t pick her,” Victoria said, her nose wrinkling. “She looked snobby.”

“I am sure she was very nice,” Athena countered, even though she was secretly glad as well. When Ambrose found a governess – if he found a governess – she would be out of a job, such as it were, and then she wouldn’t have any excuse to remain.

The letter (which she’d found tucked between the cushions of a sofa) had gotten her through the door, but she wasn’t so naïve as to believe it would keep her here. Particularly since her and Ambrose’s kiss had been followed by a week of cold, icy silence. She might have thought she’d dreamt their midnight tryst if not for the way her lips tingled and her breasts ached whenever their paths crossed. Something which had been happening less and less frequently as of late.

She suspected he was avoiding her on purpose, and her suspicions had all but been confirmed when she’d come upon him in the parlor last evening and he had bolted out of the room as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

Vexing man. Adjusting her grip on the pencil, she returned to her drawing. Why couldn’t he admit there was something between them? More than something, if their passionate kiss was any indication. She supposed she should have been grateful he’d kept his distance – many men in his situation would have ruined her without a thought – but dammit, she didn’t want him to stay away from her. Having finally gotten a taste of genuine desire, she craved more.

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