What the Duke Desires by Jenna Petersen

group up the stairs, Lillian covered her eyes. The last thing in the world she wanted was any more interesting encounters with Simon Crathorne.
    And yet it seemed they were destined to occur.



Chapter 5

    S imon looked around the spacious room that was his father’s office. With a shake of his head, he corrected himself. His office. This was his space now. Or at least it would be once he managed to wade his way through the towering mounds of paperwork and correspondence his father had left behind.
    The late duke had been a fastidious man in all ways but this. He had never been able to throw away a paper in his life and kept meticulous notes about anything he thought important. Which was an excellent thing when it came to his thoughts and recollections about an important piece of legislation or letters pertaining to an historic event.
    But not so much so when the notes were about the birthing of foals on another estate or the letters were from his father’s peculiar and long dead aunt Paulette, who rambled on about her sewing group and the scandal of men who no longer wore wigs and buckled slippers.
    Yet both kinds of paperwork were here, stacked haphazardly across the desk, in piles behind the chair, teetering on the bookcases.
    And part of Simon’s duty, before he left for London, was to sort through these things and determine what to do with it all. He was actually thinking of putting together a memoir of his father’s life, and he was certain some items in this room would be of great use for that purpose when the time came.
    He would have liked to dive into the business of sorting straightaway since there were duties as host he would have to perform in a few hours, but he couldn’t. The previous day after the picnic his mother had requested…well, rather demanded an audience with him this morning. So he awaited her before he moved to the piles.
    As if on cue, the door to the office opened and his mother stepped in. She shut the door behind her and looked around with a sniff.
    Once she had been considered a flawless beauty. Stories still circulated about her coming-out year and how men had fought over a chance to simply touch her hand. But Roger Crathorne, who would soon become the eleventh Duke of Billingham, had staked his claim to her early, and everyone knew that Crathorne always got what he wanted one way or another.
    Simon sighed as he thought of how their relationship had deteriorated. He looked at his mother. There was no denying she was still quite lovely. Her dark hair had only a hint of gray and her skin remained smooth and blemished by only a few wrinkles.
    And yet there was something lacking in her. Her brown eyes were never very happy, and bitterness made her lips flat and harsh. When Simon looked at her, he was put to mind of every time she had turned away from him. Every time she had stared at him with unmasked disdain.
    He had never determined what he’d done to invoke such ire from her. His father had always shrugged it off as if the question wasn’t important, though the late duke had certainly showered Simon with enough love and affection that Simon knew his father somehow recognized the deep void her disinterest created.
    “How many times I told him that his office was a disgrace,” she said, snapping Simon from unpleasant memories.
    He forced an indulgent smile. “It is a mess. But I’ll clean it up somehow.”
    Her gaze jerked to his unexpectedly and held there for far longer than she normally looked.
    “Yes. I expect you will,” she said softly.
    “Is that what you wished to speak to me about this morning?” he pressed, suddenly uncomfortable beneath her deeper examination. “Are there items you’d like to inspect yourself or keep as mementos?”
    She shook her head and paced away from him. “Nothing. I have no interest in his things.”
    Simon wasn’t surprised by her answer. In truth, he blamed his mother more than his father for the breach between his parents. The late duke