Jessica Howerty fell for her brother's best friend when she was a young girl, and never quite recovered. Now, all grown-up, she knows that a disreputable rake like Jacob Hurst is the last thing she should want. After two seasons in London, she's tir...
Following dinner, Jessica had spent a good two hours with the duke in his study discussing the book he had found for her and how Olivia was settling in at Holcombe. Finally, the duke had begged her forgiveness for keeping her so long and she had retired to her room. Now in her white nightgown with her hair hanging in a long braid down her back, she sat at the commode and was halfway through writing a letter to her sisters in Devon when Jacob suddenly entered.
Closing the door, he leaned a shoulder casually against it. With his ankles crossed, he looked at her in silence for a moment as he took a sip from a glass of brandy. He had removed his coat and cravat, leaving him in only his dark breeches, boots and a white shirt. Her breath hitched for a moment. A fully dressed Jacob was bad enough, this slightly dishevelled one was sinfully seductive.
"I beg your pardon, did I forget to call 'enter'?" she asked dryly when he said nothing.
"I see my father gave you a room in the family wing." He looked around the room. "He thought you too good for the guest wing?"
"His Grace wanted me closer to your cousin."
He let out a derisive laugh. "I'm certain he did."
"What are you doing here?" She stood and got a shawl from the bed, which she wrapped around her shoulders. Being in only her nightdress in the same room as Jacob was not something she had ever expected, and it made her feel oddly vulnerable.
"You know," he said lazily after taking another sip of his drink. "If my father was ever to re-marry, even if he had another son, I would still inherit everything."
She gave him a wary look, not sure why he was telling her this. "I'm aware of that."
"My father may not find me a very suitable heir," he continued. "But he can't keep me from inheriting. No matter how many more children he fathers."
"I don't think the duke has any plans of trying to keep your inheritance from you," she said carefully, distrustful of his peculiar mood.
"Oh?" He gave her a burning look. "You know him so well that you can tell what he plans?"
"Well, n... no." She pulled the shawl tighter as his eyes roamed over her body.
"Why haven't you got married yet?" he asked her again. "We already agreed that you've received several offers."
"I already told you why." She frowned. "And I don't see how it's any of your concern."
"Humour me."
She thought about it for a moment. Why hadn't she accepted any of the offers she'd received? "I don't know," she finally admitted. "I just couldn't see myself spending the rest of my life with any of those men. They were all pleasant enough, I suppose, but I felt nothing for them. I guess I want more than that. There just wasn't any attraction."
"Attraction?" He gave her an amused look. "You're only twenty years old and unmarried to boot. What do you know of attraction?"
She glared at him. "Being young and unmarried doesn't make one ignorant, Jacob. You're unmarried, and you know about attraction, don't you?"
"I certainly do," he replied easily. "But it's different for men, and you know that. Society mostly looks the other way for our... indiscretions. So how come you know about attraction, Jessica?"
"Do you think I am made of ice?" She gave him an irritated look. "Just because a woman isn't married it doesn't mean she can't be attracted to someone, does it?"
"Touché!" He smiled slowly. "I should know."
"Exactly," she muttered with a disgusted grimace.
He gave her a dark look, which made her rather flustered, before taking another long sip from his brandy glass. "Now, tell me," he said as he moved the glass away from his lips. "You already said you felt no attraction to any of the men that proposed to you. Yet you must have felt attracted to someone to know the difference. So, please enlighten me, who have you been attracted to?"
"I really don't think that is any of your concern," she replied stiffly.
"I am merely curious."
"Well, I suggest you satisfy your curiosity elsewhere."
"Ah," he said lazily. "If only it were that easy. But it is you I am curious about, and unless there is someone else I could ask, I'm afraid I will have to keep talking to you."
She let out a deep sigh and turned away from him. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to strangle him or wrap her arms around him. "Why are you so curious about me suddenly?" she asked suspiciously. "You've known me for years."
"I thought I did," he agreed quietly. "But now I am not so sure."
Turning around again to look at him, she couldn't figure out what he meant. He was staring at her again, and the dark glint in his eyes made her stomach lurch in some awkward somersault. Putting the now empty glass on a small table next to the door, he sauntered over to her. Barely keeping from retreating like a terrified rabbit, she stood her ground and met his eyes squarely. He stopped right in front of her, standing so close that she could feel the faint smell of brandy on his breath. It made her head spin, so she shook it slightly, hoping to clear it.
He lifted a hand and gently touched a lock of hair that had slipped free of the braid, curling it around his finger. "I suppose I can't blame a man for finding you attractive," he mumbled, the look in his clear blue eyes unreadable. "And any beautiful woman would take advantage of it, so I can't really blame you either. But I still don't like it, and I won't let it happen without a fight."
She drew an unsteady breath. Being that close to him upset every nerve in her body. "I don't understand what you're talking about," she whispered. "You're not making any sense."
"Oh, I expect you do know what I'm talking about," he said quietly as he leaned in and smelled her hair, making her skin break out in goosebumps. "You smell nice. What is that fragrance?" he asked as he straightened again.
"L... Lavender." She cursed his nearness for her stalling brains. Being so close to him was pure torture. Why was he doing this to her? "Now, please leave my room. I've had enough of your interrogation."
He took a step back and looked down at her. Rubbing her arms, she averted her face, unable to meet his eyes, afraid that he would read the truth in hers. The only man she'd ever been attracted to was him.
"Please leave," she repeated quietly without looking up.
She heard him retreat and take his glass. The door opened and there was a moment when she thought he might not leave, then he said, "Good night, Jessica."
The door closed behind him, and she lifted her eyes to stare at it. What had just happened? He had been acting strangely ever since he arrived, and she simply could not make any sense of it. And why ever had he risked all propriety and visited her in her room at night? If anyone had seen him, it would have ruined her. Not that it would bother him. He'd probably find it a good joke if someone would ever think that he'd even considered ruining Jessica Howerty. During their entire acquaintance, she'd been nothing more than his friend's sister, and she didn't expect it to change. But his behaviour at the moment was very odd. She shook her head and sat down on the bed. What on earth was going on?
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