Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes

Her breasts just barely brushed his chest. He imagined he could hear her heartbeat, stuttering and thundering just like his own. She opened her mouth wider, and he let his tongue explore the wet recesses of her mouth.

God, she tasted so sweet. Like sugared mints, clean and delicious. He swallowed his groan and swept his tongue across her soft, full lips. No woman could be this perfect, this maddening, this…

A cough from the ground below them broke the spell, and Avery stepped back, reluctantly breaking the most incredible moment of his life.

He looked away from Leah, afraid of what he’d see in her face. He focused on the man lying in the dirt instead.

The stable master moaned and struggled to his feet. “You’ll pay for that, Russell.”

Avery moved between Leah and Mackenzie. The man was in no shape to threaten her further, but Avery would take no chances with her safety. Watching the stable master limp away, reality suddenly slammed into him.

Oh dear God, what had he done? If they’d been seen, she’d be ruined.

Shame filled him, replacing the fingers of pleasure that had warmed him at their kiss. “Miss Ramsey, I do apologize. I wish you much happiness.”

Without stopping to see if his apology was accepted, he turned and strode toward the house. He must get away, must separate himself from her. She was too good for him.

He should never have allowed himself to soil her so.

* * *

Leah stared after Avery, wondering what the hell had just happened. She pressed a trembling finger to her lips.

He’d kissed her.

Well, that had been unexpectedly incredible.

He’d been sweet, tentative, but demanding at the same time. She blew out a shaky breath, willing her knees to stop threatening collapse. She needed to get herself together.

It was only a kiss. She’d been kissed before.

Not like that, her subconscious whispered.

She mechanically picked up the bag that she’d dropped when he leaned down to her, and walked toward the street. Her thoughts flopped around like rapidly breeding Tribbles.

He’d never given her any indication that he was attracted to her. As a matter of fact, every time she’d touched him he’d backed away like his ass was on fire. How was she supposed to read signs that didn’t exist?

Had she completely screwed up this whole trip by chasing after the wrong man?

“Oy, watch ye’self!”

She staggered backward to avoid getting trampled by a horse and cart. The driver shot her a dirty look as he passed by. Walking around in such a daze was dangerous for more than herself. Shaking her head to clear it, she walked in the direction Lady Chesterfield had told her to go. Walk now. Think later.

She may not know exactly who she was here to fall in love with, but she did know she desperately needed a friend to talk to. Lady Chesterfield and Jamie’s maid Muriel were the best shots she had at some objective advice. But she had to make it there in one piece.

The sun had risen by the time she made it to Hanover Square. Setting her jaw, she marched up the steps to number four and knocked. The large door squeaked open slowly, revealing an ancient-looking butler. His long, hooked nose sported a sizeable mole, and his eyebrows, well, eyebrow, was composed entirely of curly white hair.

“The servants’ entrance is in the back of the house, miss.”

She had to hand it to him. He used that beak to his advantage, looking down at her over it as if he was the king of England. Before he could firmly close the door in her face, as she assumed was his idea, a trilling, cheerful voice floated down the stairs.

“Graves, do let the poor gel in. She is our guest, not a common kitchen maid.”

With a pained look, Graves stepped aside to let her in.

Lady Chesterfield, dressed in a flamboyant red robe, stood on the landing.

“Oh, my dear, how lovely to see you. Graves, take her things. Is that all you’ve brought? But of course it is, no matter. Come, come.”

With an emotion that could safely be labeled ridiculously heavenly relief coursing through her, Leah trotted up the stairs after Lady Chesterfield.

“I’m sorry it’s so early,” she said as the older woman bustled into a bedchamber almost as large as His Grace’s had been. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Lady Chesterfield laughed as she pulled a velvet rope at the bedside. “No matter, dear, no matter. I shall rest when I’ve cocked up my toes. Now”—she clapped her hands together delightedly, eyes wrinkling at the corners as she smiled—“do sit down. Muriel shall bring us some chocolate, and then we shall make our plan of attack.”

Leah sank into the chair that Lady Chesterfield had pointed to, relaxing gratefully into the softness. She hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been carrying ever since she’d tumbled into Avery’s arms from that mirror.

Avery.

Oh God, what had she done?

She was saved from her mental swan dive into melancholy by a timid knock on the door.

“My lady, I have your chocolate.” A maid, probably about seventeen or eighteen, entered the room bearing a tray with a steaming cup atop it. Brownish hair curled around the bottom of her mobcap, framing her delicate, pale face.

“Muriel,” Lady Chesterfield said, “this is our guest, Leah Ramsey. You are acquainted with her dear friend Miss Jamie Marten, or should I say Lady Dunnington?”

The maid nearly dropped the tray in her excitement. “Miss Jamie?” She set the tray hurriedly on the bedside table and rushed to Leah’s side. “How is she? And my lord Dunnington? Mrs. Knightsbridge told me they were to wed. Was it lovely? I know it was the most beautiful ceremony, for they were so in love.”

Leah had to laugh at the maid’s excited outburst. “Muriel, you’re exactly like Jamie described you. Yes, it was a beautiful wedding, and they’re really happy.”

It was nice to think about her best friend instead of the mess Leah had made of her own life recently.

The maid turned her shining eyes to Lady Chesterfield. “How may I assist your ladyship?”

The woman propped her hands on her ample hips and smiled broadly. “Our Miss Ramsey here is destined to wed the Duke of Granville. And we, my girl, shall help her.”

“The Duke of Granville?” Muriel’s tone was surprised, but not in a good way. “But he is so old!”

Leah shifted uneasily in the chair. Muriel had just blurted out her biggest misgiving about this whole shebang.

“Yes, dear, His Grace, the Duke of Granville.” Lady Chesterfield sniffed. “And mind your tongue, Muriel. As you know, a gentleman’s age is of no real impediment to a match. I do not know His Grace personally. His mother is a harridan of the first water, I must own. Still, it is of no consequence. We shall see to it that our Miss Ramsey weds advantageously, you can be assured of that.”

“Lady Chesterfield,” Leah said, rising to her feet with only a slight wobble. “I might have been wrong about the duke. Mrs. Knightsbridge told me that my true love was in the Duke of Granville’s household, but she never actually came out and said it was the duke.” Unease swirled in her stomach as she looked at her hostess and the maid.

A quizzical smile appeared on the baroness’s face. “But there are no other eligible gentlemen in the household.”

Avery’s face popped into Leah’s mind’s eye, and she laughed awkwardly. “Well, a gentle man, but not a gentleman, if you get me.” Leah cleared her throat. “What I mean is, I kind of made friends with someone in the house. The duke’s valet, actually. And I’m wondering if I may have made the wrong assumption about the identity of the man I’m supposed to fall in love with.”