The Scandalous Love of a Duke by Jane Lark

said nothing. It was obvious she was not. “Where is your groom?” That was who should be carrying her packets.
    “He is in the livery stable—”
    “Leaving you playing maid.” John turned back, looking for his own man and waved him forwards. “There’s no need for you to stand here looking to all and sundry like a pack mule, Katherine, I’ll have my groom take these to yours.”
    Her fingers hovered at her waist as though she wished to take the packets back, but he would not allow it.
    “Katherine, is something wrong?”
    Her eyes widened. “No.”
    “And you and the vicar?” he pressed again.
    “Please, Your Grace, John, do not…”
    Her lack of an answer said there was something. Yet if there was something, why had she let him kiss her, and kissed him back. Her company gave John peace, and peace was a much vaunted thing in his current life, he was not willing to relinquish it.
    “Do not what, Kate?”
    Her mother picked that moment to leave the shop, and his question was answered only by a ringing bell. “Your Grace.”
    John had never liked Phillip’s mother.
    “Your Grace.” Nor his youngest sister.
    John’s innards hardened to stone at their fawning pitch. They were money-grabbing, scheming females, he’d never had the same sense from Katherine.
    “Katherine, you should have called us.” Her mother, and then her sister, rose from their curtsies.
    Conveniently, John’s groom arrived and, ignoring the women, John passed off the packets. “Take these to the Spencers’ groom at the livery.”
    John’s groom bowed and then turned away, but Mrs Spencer stopped him. “There is another here.”
    John felt a rush of irritation again. She was taking his assistance for granted, as if it was her given right to have his help. It was not. But then this is what came of showing any preference when you were a duke. He had once favoured her son.
    “Your Grace, you will not have met Jennifer since she was young.”
    His eyes turned to the youngest sister. Like John’s siblings, Jenny was much younger.
    “Your Grace,” Jenny stated again, offering her hand as though he would want to take it.
    He accepted it – only because she was Katherine’s and Phillip’s little sister – held it for a moment and then let go.
    “Are you in town for long, Your Grace?” the girl asked as if she knew him.
    “We were just on our way to the Inn for refreshments if you would care to join us?” Mrs Spencer added.
    He did not care. Had it been Katherine alone however… But she remained mute, and when he glanced at her she was staring at the pavement, her face largely hidden by the broad rim of her bonnet.
    “I’m busy, I’m afraid.”
    “That is a shame, Your Grace, but you must come to Jenny’s party. It is her coming-out ball, here, at the assembly rooms. It is two weeks today. You will attend, Your Grace? Shall I send an invitation?”
    “Mama, John is still in mourning,” Katherine whispered. She had used his given name.
    “I had not forgotten.” The woman thrust at Katherine. “It will do no harm if he does not dance.”
    Anger struck him again over Mrs Spencer’s presumption. He did not appreciate being told what he may do.
    “Phillip will be there of course.”
    Phillip could go hang, but John would attend for Katherine. It would give him chance to have another hour or so in her company.
    “I shall come. Send the invitation. But now I must be getting on.” He bowed slightly to Katherine’s Mother. “Mrs Spencer.”
    She curtsied.
    “Miss Jennifer.” He nodded again as the girl dropped another deep curtsy, trying to please.
    Then he looked at Katherine. “Katherine.” She curtsied, but he caught her hand before she dropped too deep and lifted it to his lips. His kiss pressed onto the same pair of kid leather gloves she had worn at the funeral and in the road the other day.
    She blushed again.
    “Good day ladies.” He let Katherine’s hand go.
    “Your Grace,” her mother and sister