Scandalizing the Duke

by Leslie V. Knowles

  THEY'D BEEN ON THE road for more than an hour before Charlotte relaxed against the pillow and Lucien knew she finally slept. He sagged against the squabs of the carriage and for the first time admitted to himself how terrified he’d been that she would not agree to this. The one thing he had not said—what he had not been able to say—was that he loved her. Why would she believe in something he had only discovered for himself during the past twenty-four hours?

  He crossed his arms and shifted on the seat. Each time they’d kissed he had assured himself that it was merely attraction and circumstance. Yet, she had intrigued him from the start with her mix of thought-provoking questions and naïve enjoyment of the most mundane of London’s entertainments. She was innocent, but not insipid. Funny, but not silly. Curious but not nosey. She made him shake his head in rueful amusement with her need to rescue dogs and kittens... She made him face his conscience when she begged him to help rescue a woman who had no way to save herself.

  It seemed wrong that she was soon to be his wife, but he had never paid her court. In fact, he had scrupulously avoided it. He’d convinced himself she was simply a distracting guest of his sister’s.

  And she had distracted. Of that, there had been no doubt.

  Until he met Charlotte, home and family had been kept fully separate from amorous pursuits and seductions, and those seductions had never included an innocent, or anyone sheltered under his roof.

  He studied Charlotte as she slept and bit back a curse. He’d blindly refused to entertain the notion that she might be more than a pleasant acquaintance. He’d been so determined to follow the path he’d set for himself, he had ignored the subtle change in his feelings.

  Until Dalton took her.

  The carriage dipped, then jerked when they hit a rut and Charlotte winced in her sleep. He leaned forward and adjusted the quilt that had slipped when she shifted.

  He loved her.

  Oh, yes, he had wanted to bed her from the first time he'd looked up from his doorway and recognized the danger of those clear gray eyes. Marriage had nothing to do with that, though honor had demanded he restrain his urges where she was concerned. The times he'd lost control in the library had only fueled the unrelenting ache of desire that bedeviled him whenever he caught a whiff of that elusive wildflower scent. It floated in around his senses now, teasing him. Taunting him.

  Guilt caught him by the throat when anticipation rose, and his body followed suit. Her battered face made no difference to his desire other than to swear he would not add to her pain. He wanted to hold her in his arms and soothe her hurts with kisses and caresses. Yet, the lightest and most platonic of touches still caused her to flinch. He vowed not to touch her until she had healed. He shifted in his seat. His personal code of honor demanded he wait, but his body knew nothing of honor.

  THEY ARRIVED AT THE border near dusk of the sixth day. Charlotte had heard the trip could be made in as little as three days, but Lucien had instructed the coachman to keep a steady, but less hurried speed to spare her the rough jostling of a faster pace. During that time, he had told her about his various properties and related amusing stories about his family, including a scandalous one about the first duke. It was as if he courted her, though she admitted there was no need. She had agreed to his mad plan. But it pleased her to think he wanted to make their marriage work.

  Each morning she had checked her face in the mirror tucked in her valise. The swelling had subsided by the third day and the deep red and purple bruises continued to fade as yellowed edges formed. Her body no longer ached other than from the constant motion of their travel. The cut on her lip was little more than a red mark that was only slightly tender.

  As her condition improved, an undercurrent of rising expectation pulsed along with the swaying carriage. She knew Lucien watched her when she napped, and she sometimes feigned sleep so she could study him in return.

  She arranged her hat and veil before Lucien helped her from the carriage. She was acutely aware of his touch and the flash of heat in his eyes. She fought the shocking urge to take advantage of the moment to lean a bit closer, to pretend to stumble so that he would slip his arm around her to protect her from an imagined fall.

  The inn was full so late in the day, but the proprietor quickly offered to shift patrons to other rooms in order to provide his finest accommodations for his honored guest, the duke. He assured them their things would be taken upstairs while they had their dinner in the private parlor downstairs.

  Charlotte noticed several of the male patrons studied her as Lucien guided her to the private dining room. Their grins and sly chuckles told her they knew that she and Lucien were eloping. She blushed behind the black lace that hid her identity as well as her fading bruises.

  Once in the parlor, Charlotte took off her hat and held out a black ribbon she removed from it. Lucien took it, his eyebrow lifted in question.

  “In our haste to be on the road we forgot something.” She stepped to his side and tied the ribbon around his coat sleeve, turning the bowed knot to the inside to make it look less contrived. ”Though perhaps it is a bit late to remedy.”

  “Ah, yes.” He shook his head and smiled with a rueful sigh. “A widow’s escort must also be in mourning or he is not a proper escort...and she is not a proper widow.” He sobered. “No one noticed before. Why would they now?”

  “We are in Gretna Green. I suspect I am not the first to hide her identity behind false widow’s weeds until a marriage takes place.” She blushed. “I suppose I shall need to become accustomed to such stares when we return to London.”

  “I am sorry you will be subjected to curiosity and gossip, but we shall weather the storm. Once it is clear you are not breeding—“ he stopped when Charlotte gasped and turned pale. “I am sorry, Charlotte. I should not have been so blunt.”

  “Don’t be. It’s nothing more than the truth.” She stepped away and looked out the window to the busy street. “I must face the fact that Lady Templeton and her cronies will keep close watch on my waistline until well after Christmastide.”

  When they finished their meal, they went upstairs. To Lucien’s dismay, they discovered their valises had been placed in the same room. Lucien called for the innkeeper who apologized for the misunderstanding. He eyed Charlotte's heavy veil and Lucien’s recently acquired black armband, then returned his apologetic gaze to Lucien’s.

  "I did not think Your Grace would object to this arrangement," he stammered.

  Lucien stared at the innkeeper with all the icy arrogance of his title. "In future," he said coldly, "I suggest you do not presume to know what I do or do not object to. The lady requires the privacy of her own room."

  "I have no other room," his face paled as he protested. "As it is, I arranged for two of my other customers to share a room to make room for Your Grace." He looked between them, his agitated consternation clear in his strained voice. "I can arrange for a cot to be assembled and brought upstairs," He looked at Charlotte, "and another privacy screen?"

  Lucien turned his gaze in her direction and Charlotte gave him a minute nod. It made little sense to object over a shared room when they would be married in the morning.

  "Very well," Lucien finally agreed.

  The innkeeper visibly relaxed. "I shall see to it immediately, Your Grace." He gave Charlotte a quick bow and scurried down the stairs calling instructions to a pair of manservants.

  The room afforded a chair on which Charlotte seated herself while the inn's servants arranged the cot and screen. When they completed their task and left the room, Lucien took her hands and raised her up to stand before him.

  “I’ll keep my word, Charlotte. We’ll find a different inn tomorrow so that today’s misunderstanding does not feature into our wedding day.” He hesitated. "But the situation reminds me that I must ask you something that’s occurred to me since our journey began since I did not think to ask my stepmother to speak with you before we left." He cleared his voice.

  "She did not need to,"
Charlotte stopped him with a finger to his lips, touched that he worried about what she might or might not know. "You see, Anne told me about the naughty books in the library... and I found them... and read one." She blushed. "It was quite... informative."

  Lucien's expression changed to one of incredulity. "Naughty books in the library? And how would Anne–?” He stopped suddenly. A wicked look lit his eyes.

  "How naughty?"

  "Very." Charlotte admitted. Her face flamed even more. "I am not sure how much is true and how much is the result of an overactive... and odd... imagination."

  Lucien gave a choked cough. "Imagination is good."

  "Is it?" Charlotte asked. "Some of those drawings were quite scandalous."

  Lucien grinned in a way that Charlotte had never seen, but that sent deliciously tingling fissures of excitement from her head to her toes. "I am sure they were."

  “They... made me feel most peculiar.” Charlotte whispered.

  Lucien’s eyes darkened. "I recall you once said that it might be more fun to make scandal than to avoid it.” He coaxed her closer. “We have taken the first step by eloping, and another by sharing this room.” His eyes took on that heated look she’d glimpsed before. “Were it not for my promise, we would share the bed as well. As it is, I hope you will forgive me if I give in to the need to do this." Then he lowered his head and kissed her.

  Charlotte closed her eyes and savored the warm pressure of his mouth against hers. She lifted her arms to encircle his shoulders and raised onto her toes, then she tentatively softened her mouth, hoping he would press the kiss deeper as he had in the library. Gloriously, and with a growl of pleasure, he did.

  He coaxed her with his tongue, and she sighed then met his exploration with equal ardor. His hands stroked her, sliding up and down her back, along her hips, then up her ribcage until he filled his hands with her breasts. Charlotte gave a gasp and pressed herself closer to his hand, lost in the incredible pleasure of his touch. When he brushed his fingers over their tips, raising them to rigid peaks, she moaned.

  "You have a scandalous effect on my good intentions," he whispered.

  Charlotte snuggled closer. "I release you from that promise." She raised her face to his again. “There is no need to wait.”

  He eased back, though his gaze still blazed with desire. "What that book may not have explained,” he cautioned, “is that a woman’s first time usually causes some degree of pain.” He ran his fingers lightly down her cheek and assured her, “I have been told the pain quickly gives way to pleasure, but I would not have you be unprepared."

  "If that is the case," Charlotte whispered against his lips. "It does not matter whether I experience discomfort tonight or tomorrow. I suspect the pain I recently endured was of greater magnitude than that of giving up my virtue." She pressed her lips to his. "Show me the pleasure that will follow the pain."

  He slid his arms around her again. "I make you a new promise, then." He kissed the faint discolorations that still shadowed her skin. "I shall protect and cherish you from this day forward."

  “I shall make you a promise as well," Charlotte said. "I shall do my best to make you proud and to overcome the questions of our scandalous marriage."

  Lucien studied her, then smiled broadly before he kissed her. “I love you Charlotte. I am proud of who you are, and I only hope the day will come when you feel the same about me.”

  “But I do,” Charlotte declared, “You are everything I hoped for when I came to London, and more.”

  "Then we shall share the bed and make it legal in the morning." He said before kissing her again. "Then we shall share it again in the afternoon... and the evening."

  His grin grew wicked. "Tell me, which illustration did you find the most intriguing?"

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  Also by Leslie V. Knowles

  The Wolverton World

  Scandalizing the Duke (Coming Soon)

  Watch for more at Leslie V. Knowles’s site.

  About the Author

  I live in Southern California with my husband, who is also my best friend. Together, we raised two children, one of whom is married and the parent of three wonderful boys. The other is an aerospace engineer who made watching The Big Bang Theory seem oddly familiar.

  I first started writing when a co-worker challenged me to write my own book after I complained about a disappointing story I'd read. When I attended a chapter of Romance Writers of America, I learned a lot from the speaker, and left the meeting with a new story idea. I was working as an interpretor-aide for the County School's Deaf Program at the time, and the new story, about the reconciliation of the parents of a deaf child, evolved from that experience.

  At the urging of friends and critique partners, I entered the Golden Heart Contest for Unpublished Writers. Silent Song was one of six finalist in the short contemporary category, and it eventually sold to Kensington Publishing.

  I earned my BA degree with teaching credentials in art and English, and taught both disciplines at the high school level. Between the regular changes of teaching assignments, and family obligations, writing was put on hold for several years. Once I retired, however, characters and story ideas began dancing in my head again, but now they danced to Regency music. Soon, Scandalizing the Duke was born, along with Chasing Scandal (a summer release) and Scandal's Choice (next fall).

  Be sure to go to my website, leslievknowles.com to see what other stories join the Wolverton World.

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  Read more at Leslie V. Knowles’s site.