Free Strathmere's Bride by Jacqueline Navin Page A

told the groom who told me—”
    “Wait one moment, Mary,” Chloe said with a delicate lift of her brows. “Why do you seem determined to hide from me that you have a man?”
    Mary stared back, horrified. “I…” Her shoulders sagged. “You won’t tell, will you?”
    “Of course I shall not if you forbid it, but I cannot understand why you should wish to keep it a secret.”
    Mary wrung her work-roughened hands as she fretted. “The duke saw us, you see, down by the stables. That is how Jarvis came to tell us the tale. You see, my man, Danıel, he was one of the village boys who used to play with his grace, and we got to talking about him after he…well, he saw us.”
    “He saw you?” Chloe repeated. “Saw you what? What were you doing?” Horrified at the possibilities, she held her breath.
    “It was a stupid thing to do. I don’t know what got into us, but we were…well, we were very…um, close. Do you know what I mean?” Her color deepened to an alarming crimson. “We were…kissing.”
    Chloe closed her eyes and sighed impatiently. “ Oui, oui, you were kissing. Now go on, what did he do?”
    “He was very angry. He threatened to dismiss us if he ever saw us doing such a thing and…”
    Mary’s voice trailed off as her eyes took on a distant glaze. Her mouth fell open and began to work, as if she were desperately attempting to communicate but found herself unable. Instead, she lifted a trembling hand to point at the gate. Chloe turned, knowing the impossible was somehow true. Knowing he would be standing there.
    And, of course, he was. Equally predictable, he was frowning severely.
    Chloe stood. “Go, Mary,” she said under her breath. Louder, she said, “Thank you, Mary. Go directly to Cook with my answer that, yes, we shall be late to tea as the children need to wash.”
    His coal eyes flickered to the children, and he visibly winced at the dirt-smudged pair. Mary scampered off, and Chloe stood alone against the duke.
    “Miss Chloe—” he began, grinding out the words through gritted teeth.
    “Yes, I know.” She sighed fatalistically. “I shall tidy up the children and meet you in the library directly for my dressing-down.”
    * * *
    He was waiting, standing in front of the hearth and staring at the portrait over the mantel. It was of some long-ago Hunt, Chloe had no idea whom. He looked quite serious, with a long, angular face and a straight mouth set in a sober expression that was most severe. Although the present duke was far more handsome than his ancestor, was younger and possessed softer features, Chloe would wager a month’s wages the man with his back to her wore a look on his face that matched the dour visage in the painting.
    Jareth turned, and she saw she was correct. She blew out a long breath and mentally braced herself.
    His tone was quiet. “Please have a seat, Miss Chloe.”
    “Yes, your grace.”
    If ever there was a time to play the docile servant, it was now. She sat and clasped her hands on her lap, but her back was so straight it didn’t touch the carved back of the chair at all. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat. She made herself look up, not down at the nervous fingers squeezing one another among the folds of her dress.
    His dark eyes were on her, inscrutable, intense. She met his gaze head-on, though it took everything in her to do it.
    “About today—” She bit off her explanation when he held up a well-manicured hand. The long, tapered fingers were sun-browned, she noticed in a moment of surreal awareness, and very strong looking. Hands used to hard work, not the hands of a duke.
    When he spoke, his voice was so controlled and quiet, she had to strain to hear it. “Did I perhaps notmake myself clear when we last spoke regarding the children’s outings?”
    “No.”
    He gave a slight incline of his head. “Did I not indicate to you that I wished the children to stay indoors today?”
    “Yes, you did, your grace.”
    “And is there any time,