Raven McAllan - The Duke’s Seduction of Lady M

Desmond was a good brother and Patience, his wife, the perfect sister-in-law. But neither of them could comprehend that she might not want to be wed again. In both Desmond and Patience’s opinion, a woman needed a man to keep her safe and provide the children. A woman’s role was to bear said children, and support her husband however he wanted. Even if that meant staying in the background. However, to Mary, a woman needed a man for all those purposes plus some definite other reasons, many involving the pleasures of the flesh. An open and clear view of life had shown her marriage wasn’t necessary for that to be accomplished. Not that she’d actually found anyone she’d want to indulge with, but it was there in the back of her mind.

A vision of the duke flashed through her mind and she shook her head with a wry laugh. He was one person not to tangle with. Instead, she judged he was the very sort of person Horry had warned her about. They’d known it was on the cards that Mary would outlive her husband, and he’d been assiduous in his efforts to ensure she was as savvy as possible and alert to all things that could affect her wellbeing.

So far it had worked. Now Mary wasn’t so sure. She walked briskly up the short drive to her home and let herself into the peaceful house. She loved it, it was her sanctuary. From the snug parlour to the more formal drawing room and elegant dining room, every room reflected Mary’s taste. When she’d arrived several months before, the house hadn’t been lived in for years, and although it was clean and tidy, it was also tired. As if it was waiting for her to wake it up once more.

With the help of Mr and Mrs Niven, the husband and wife team who had been caretaker and housekeeper to Horace for years, and Nettie, a local girl hired as a housemaid, the house was now warm, homely, and loved. Before she’d moved, Mary had decided to call herself Mrs Lynch, and just be a villager. Then once settled, and she was comfortable, she began to involve herself with village life.

Now she took her turn on the church flower rota, did her stint at the school and was an active member of the ladies’ club. To some, her life must be seen as tedious and uninteresting in the extreme, but to Mary it was what she wanted and needed. Or had been, until one look from a pair of dark eyes reminded her of all she was missing.

Damn him. Mary kicked off her shoes, replaced them with an old pair of half boots suitable for gardening, and wandered into the kitchen. At this time of the day, the Nivens were in their cottage and wouldn’t return for another hour or so, when it was time to prepare for and cook dinner. Plus, Mary trusted Nettie was at home chatting to her mother and hopefully enjoying her free afternoons.

Mary went into the pantry and selected a ripe peach. It would hold her until dinnertime. She bit into the soft flesh and as juice dripped down her chin and the sweet scent assailed her senses, she sighed in ecstasy. They might only have a tiny hot house but it provided an abundance of fruit and vegetables, more than enough for her to have plenty to share. Mary made a mental note to take some of the bounty the following day to the elderly lady who was helping her to overcome the intricacies of tatting.

For now though she’d enjoy the fruit, and then go and weed her lettuces.

Sadly it didn’t put the duke out of her mind. It might have only been a brief meeting but she sensed his interest in her, or, she thought with a silent laugh, her bosom. It had obviously been an effort for him to look elsewhere. Well Horry had said it was a particularly splendid specimen, and presumably he knew such things. Her nipples tightened under her serviceable gown as she remembered the duke’s probing look and the way his eyes glowed.

Mary sat back on her knees and sighed. Why on earth was she hankering after a man who had stared at her in such an audacious way? If only she could give him a piece of her mind. Not that she’d have the chance. She understood he was not a man to pit her wits against – she would surely lose. He might want her, but no duke – or as in this case, also lord of the manor – would, in Mrs Niven’s vernacular, play in his own yard

Did the Grange count as that? She had no idea, but whilst he thought of her as a maiden, she was fairly sure she was safe. Even when he discovered she had been married. Mary was under no illusions that that titbit of information wouldn’t fall into his lap sooner, rather than later, but surely he would assume she was not in his orbit?

He might set up a mistress in town, but out here he’d be careful whom he dallied with. Especially one as young as she, who to all intents and purposes was a grieving widow. Oh she’d grieved and would always miss Horry, but as he’d told her on more than one occasion, they had enjoyed good times and all good times came to an end. Horry had instructed her not to go into black, and she’d compromised with navy, greys and purples and now more lilacs, pale greys and soft blues.

None of which negated the fact that her body stirred when she thought of him . The Duke.

Mary glanced down at the so-called weed in her hand and realised it was a lettuce. One she’d planted out not a week earlier to create a late salad crop.

Perhaps it was time to tidy up and forget about the annoying man. He’d had his fun, got her flustered and would now no doubt have forgotten her. Just one more village lady.

What would the duke think if he knew the meek and quiet Miss Mary Lynch was in face Lady Mary McCoy, widow of Lord Horace McCoy and one of the richest women in the country?

She wasn’t going to consider that.

****

Brody took his leave of the children, congratulated Miss Grey on her success with the school, then retrieved his empty basket and made his way outside to where Ronald patiently walked the horses.

‘My apologies for keeping you waiting. I assure you, I tried for at least ten minutes to depart,’ Brody said as he climbed aboard the curricle and took the reins. ‘Your sister is incredibly persistent once she gets the bit between her teeth. She is most insistent that if any child has a perfect attendance record at the end of this session they should be taken up in my phaeton and tooled around the lanes to end up at the castle thence to enjoy cakes and lemonade.’

‘M’lord,’ Ronald sounded mortified. ‘She’s a pest. I hope you gave her what for.’

Brody laughed. ‘I gave her my word “t’would be thus”.’ He waited until they began the steep haul up the escarpment. ‘For such an impassioned and reasoned plea, she deserves the treat anyway. Who is this Miss Mary?’ He hoped he sounded only mildly interested. It wouldn’t do to show more than that.

Ronald glanced at him, not a whit perturbed, it seemed, by the abrupt change of subject. ‘All I know is what I told you earlier. She’s well liked, involves herself in village affairs, and puts herself out to be helpful but not encroach.’

‘She sounds like a veritable paragon,’ Brody said, somewhat disgruntled by Ronald’s glowing description. She didn’t seem the sort of woman to enjoy a casual coupling. Such a pity, Brody was convinced that fine bosom needed more attention.

And the rest of her would bear to be inspected as well. God almighty I cannot think like that so close to home. He returned his attention to what Ronald was saying.

‘Oh no my lord, no paragon, just a lady.’ The way Ronald spoke made Brody certain the mystery lady was no “Lady”, for which he was thankful. He wanted no truck with young “ladies”, be they earnest and full of good works or not. Somehow, in his past, once they fastened their eyes on him he became their next mission. He had no intention of that happening again. Any interactions would be on his terms.