What a Duke Wants by Lavinia Kent

Author:Lavinia Kent
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

She didn’t want to open her eyes. The bed had shaken when Mark rose a few minutes before, but she was not yet ready to move. Even through her closed eyelids she could tell that dawn had come, but she was sure it was still early, too early. Rolling onto her stomach she burrowed her face into the pillows.

Was there anything mistresses were supposed to do the morning after? She’d never heard of anything, but then it wasn’t like she’d ever heard much about being a mistress. She stretched in the bed, reaching for each corner with a limb. A large bed was a rather wonderful thing. She couldn’t remember ever before being able to reach out without a foot or hand going off the edge somewhere.

Her whole body was sore in the most wonderful of ways.

Maybe being a mistress wouldn’t be so bad.

And something smelled like coffee.

Coffee brought to her bedroom in the morning, now that would be almost heaven.

Had Mark gone down to fetch it?

It didn’t seem like something a duke would do, but then after last night it was hard to think of Mark as a duke. A duke would surely never do half the things they’d done last night.

She stretched again, and with supreme effort she rolled over to look at Mark. He was not a quiet riser. Did he have to slam every drawer in the chest? She opened her eyes.

And blinked.

Divers stood at the dresser, opening and closing the drawers with little clear purpose. Mark’s clothing wasn’t there, was it? She didn’t remember him bringing anything yesterday and there hadn’t been anything in the drawers when her own meager bag had been unpacked.

Divers slammed another drawer shut. “Will that be all, Your Grace? The king is expecting you within the hour.”

“See if there is any marmalade. I do not care for the currant jam.” It was Strattington’s voice that answered.

Careful to keep the covers wrapped tight about her breasts, Isabella rolled over toward the voice. Yes, it was definitely Strattington. The carefully cut black coat and flow of white linen and lace left little mistake. She wished she could pull the covers over her head. It was difficult to go to bed with one man and awake with another—even if they did share the same body. And that was not even adding in Divers.

After spending years in service Isabella was accustomed to sharing a room, and on many occasions a bed, with another maid, but never with a snotty valet. It was impossible to imagine a more miserable way to wake each morning than to Divers’s lean face. He’d looked down on her during that first meeting at the inn when he’d awoken Joey and he clearly was not pleased to be here now. He was slamming the drawers on purpose. She was sure of it.

That brought on another thought. That first night at the inn—it had been Mark who had demanded she take the baby out to the stable yard. Only Mark had already been out in the yard.

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