Ruth sat forward. “No wife, fiancée, or mistress, either. Also, village gossip says he is spending this month at his Cheltenham country estate. What if you trotted over to Gilroy Park and tried to hire him as your temporary lover? I’m sure the duke would be intrigued.”
“Oh yes,” Ada replied with a snort. “Intrigued at how I haven’t already been hauled away to Bedlam.”
“Ye of little faith. A tall, plump blond might be exactly his preference.”
She hesitated. No. Attempting to hire a duke to be her secret first lover was preposterous. It wasn’t like Gilroy needed the money, and he could have his pick of ladies.
But what if he did agree? What if brazenly approaching him resulted in an entire month of pleasure before they bid each other farewell, never to speak of it again?
Bold women pursue their dreams…
“The Grand Cock Plan is perhaps the worst ever,” she muttered. “Fraught with risk and the very high likelihood of my utter humiliation. However…”
“That however sounds like a yes,” said Ruth. “Huzzah! Now, no dillydallying allowed. Tomorrow after we’ve delivered the charity baskets, Martha and I shall escort you to Gilroy Park in the carriage. My word, this is thrilling!”
The two older women stood and danced a jig around the parlor, but Ada remained in her chair, her stomach churning with both excitement and anxiety.
Tomorrow could be the best or worst day of her life.
Gilroy Park
“Are you truly happy, Gil? Tabby and I could stay longer.”
Only years of practice allowed Jasper Muir, thirteenth Duke of Gilroy, to stifle a curse at his younger brother’s diabolical threat.
Tristan, his wife Tabitha, and their five children had stalked the ducal carriage from London to Cheltenham after his recent fortieth birthday ball, convinced he was lonely and requiring comfort and good cheer. But enough was enough. A bachelor could only endure so much spontaneous singing, charades, cake stomped into rugs, and lovestruck married couple before his sanity fractured.
“No, no,” he replied hastily as they watched Tabitha herd the children into a traveling carriage from the safety of the manor’s front steps. “London has the best physicians, so you, your pregnant wife, and thousand offspring must return at once.”
His brother chuckled. “It only seems like a thousand. This next babe will be the last…unless Tabby bats her lashes for another, of course. Can’t refuse her anything. Wouldn’t want to either, not after she scooped up my miserable self and taught me how to laugh. Love is a wondrous thing. Turns your whole life around.”
Jasper grimaced at the excessive sentiment. Their late father had taught them to be reserved and stoic men who disdained emotion, but nowadays his brother was almost obnoxiously chirpy and forever wanting to discuss feelings. Worse, he’d become one of those eccentrics who kissed his wife in public, romped with his children in the nursery, and hugged. Everyone knew that proper noblemen demonstrated pride and care with an inclination of the head, handshake, or if hearing particularly good news like a military victory, a brief clap to the shoulder. Anything else was decidedly un-British.
“Indeed,” he said with acute unease, because talk of love inevitably led to talk of—
“I’m sure Cheltenham is near-bursting with potential brides,” continued Tristan, his voice gaining volume with enthusiasm. “It’s time to bid farewell to mistress contracts and welcome a Duchess of Gilroy into your heart and home.”
Christ.
“There is already a Duchess of Gilroy,” Jasper retorted. “Mother.”
Tristan shook his head. “Her duty is done after all those terrible years with our shriveled-soul father. She found love with Mr. Winslow. Tabby is my forever. I’m sure you’ll find yours as well. There is no need to feel lonely or empty.”
Not again.
Jasper rocked on his shoe heels. They’d had this ridiculous conversation on countless occasions, and he was bloody tired of it. Mistress contracts kept his existence neat, orderly, and free of theatrics. He did not feel lonely or empty, he did not need long conversations or hugs, and he certainly didn’t need a wife. Not when he already had legitimate heirs in his brother and three nephews.
“Tristan!” called Tabitha, laughing, “From the expression on his face, Gil is about to shove you into that fountain. Better join us in the carriage.”
“A timely warning,” muttered Jasper.
“But I’ll echo my husband’s words, please find a wife and sire an heir so he and our sons are cut from the line of succession—”
“Safe travels!” Jasper barked, holding out his hand to Tristan.
His brother pouted, but accepted the handshake then bounded down the steps and into the carriage. As it moved down the gravel driveway, a thousand fingers burst out a partially open window to wave frantically, and Jasper raised a relieved hand in farewell before returning inside. Some time alone in his library would cure the madness of the past few days.
Soon he was settled in his favorite chair—custom made to accommodate his unusually tall six-foot three-inch frame—with a large pile of ball and soiree invitations to peruse.
Lonely and empty? Ha.
No one this popular could feel such emotions, nor had turning forty instigated any kind of panic. He had no complaints; it would be churlish of a man with an ancient title, vast fortune, and numerous estates to be anything other than content.
A minute later, he drummed his fingertips on the carved oak desk. Christ, it was quiet.
Why haven’t you secured a new mistress? It’s been several months. Could it be that you do wish for more than bedsport?
Jasper glared at an invitation. He wasn’t looking for love; in truth, he might not even be capable of tender sentiment. If he was that way inclined, surely one of the courtesans, widows, or well-bred young ladies he’d met would have prompted a grand declaration.
No, the family visit had just addled his mind. He needed a distraction. Immediately.
“Your Grace?”
He brightened when a footman peered around the library door. For once, a swift answer to prayer. “Yes?”
“You have visitors. Three ladies from St. Mary’s—not in Cheltenham, but the smaller church in Charlton Kings. Miss Lacey, Miss Kinloch, and the vicar’s daughter, Miss Blair. They wondered if they might have a little of your time.”
Jasper sighed and stood. Church ladies on a mission; no wonder a heavenly answer had been swift. But granting a funding request for a roof repair, charity baskets, or the upcoming village fair was certainly preferable to sitting here scowling about love. “They may. Escort them in.”
Soon, three visitors approached his desk and sank into curtsies. Two neatly dressed, silver-haired women, and…
His breath caught.
The third woman was tall, wonderfully so, and wearing a modest pale blue gown that in no way disguised her lush breasts and hips. She certainly wasn’t young, yet her creamy skin was unblemished, her eyes the hue of expensive brandy, and her unruly honey-blond curls battled to escape a severe chignon. As for those dusky pink lips…he’d never seen a mouth more suited for long kisses, sultry smiles, and sucking his cock. Together with those ample curves and long legs, she’d be the perfect mistress; even the thought of sinking deep into her wet heat while she moaned and pleaded for more had him harder than stone.