The Autumn Duke (A Duke for All Seasons Book 4)

by Jillian Eaton

  Kitty knew it was presumptuous – even for her. But sometimes in life a person needed to take a bold step forward, and that was precisely what she intended to do. Well, maybe more of a wild leap…but she wasn’t afraid of falling for surely it was better to fall than never to try.

  “I hoped you might.” She sipped her tea. “I know how this must seem. My coming here unexpectedly and presenting such a wild idea, but–”

  “I don’t think it is wild at all,” Madeline interjected. “In fact, I think it – and you – may be just what our brother needs.”

  “As long as you’re not after his fortune,” Mary added, arching a honey blonde brow. She, like her two sisters, was fair-haired with blue eyes and delicate features. Only Madeline had a hint of her brother’s russet coloring. “Are you? After his money, that is. Or his title, for that matter.”

  Kitty carefully set her teacup down. “I won’t lie and say the prospect of being a duchess isn’t appealing, because it is. But my family is not poor, and I am not in need of wealth. What I do need is a husband who checks off all of the boxes on my list. Which your brother happens to do.” She thought about it for a moment. “Well, almost all the boxes. He is a tad more standoffish than I would have liked. But I believe that only adds to the depth of his character.”

  “And what of your character?” asked Margaret, the youngest. “We love Byron dearly, and while we want him to marry, it needs to be to the right sort of person.”

  “I’m not exceedingly good with figures,” Kitty admitted, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Nor particularly athletic, and I only speak three languages. But I am an excellent dancer. I am honest to a fault. I’ve been told I am quite amusing. And I will not hesitate to tell my husband – whomever he ends up being – when he is being an abominable grouch.” She leaned forward in earnest. “I am not saying I have to marry your brother. I am just asking for the chance to get to know him and for him to get to know me, and I think a house party would provide the perfect opportunity for both of those things.

  “At the very least,” she continued, waving her teacup in the air, “he will have a hard time getting rid of me without causing a scene. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Byron during our short acquaintance, it’s that he abhors attention of any kind. Particularly the sort of attention he’d receive if he removed a screaming woman from his manor.” She winked. “And I have it on good authority that I’ve quite a loud voice.”

  “I think she’s wonderful,” Mary said decisively.

  “I think she’ll do splendidly,” Madeline agreed.

  “I think Byron is going to kill us all,” Margaret groaned.

  Mary shrugged. “At least we’ll go together. My greater concern is how we’re supposed to host a party without him knowing. The second guests being to arrive you know he’s going to simply demand they all leave, and no one will be able to stop him.”

  “Leave that part to me.” Rising, Kitty smoothed out her skirts as her belly fluttered with excitement. “Send out the invitations today if you can, and make certain one goes to the Duke and Duchess of Glenmoore as well as their guest. Their guest being me, of course.” A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “On the day everyone is set to arrive I’ll see to it that your brother is suitably distracted. He won’t realize what’s happened until everyone has been moved into their suites, and by then it will too late.”

  “It’s positively diabolical.” Mary clapped her hands, then grinned. “I love it.”

  A pleased blush overtook Kitty’s cheeks. “I was hoping you would. Well, I’d best be going before His Grace returns and wonders why Bacon is standing in the front drive. It was lovely to make your acquaintance, albeit under…unusual circumstances.”

  That was putting it mildly.

  Byron’s sisters would have been well within their rights to toss her out on her ear once she’d told them her crazy plan, but for some inexplicable reason they’d actually listened to her. Which was more than she could say for their stubborn brother. There was a part of Kitty that was still miffed at his desire to keep their kiss a secret. She knew why he would want to, of course. Just as she knew it was more for her own benefit than his. A man could make love to a hundred women and he’d be heralded as a hero, but a woman engaged in one little kiss – while writhing on the ground in a meadow full of wildflowers – and her reputation would be irreparably damaged if the kiss was ever found out.

  The unfairness of it all made her want to grind her teeth and stamp her foot, but while there was nothing she could do to fix Society’s cockeyed view when it came to a female’s ability to express herself sexually without fear of shame or repercussion, there was something she could do about the Duke of Wakefield’s opinion of her.

  Namely, she intended to improve it.

  Through fair means…or foul.

  After Kitty had departed, the three sisters remained in the parlor.

  “I just don’t know if we should,” Margaret said, her fair brow creased with worry. “Byron is going to be so very furious. He might lock himself in his study the entire time as he did with the ball, or he could even go to London for all we know.”

  “Let him try,” Mary said with an airy wave of her hand. “Lady Katherine Dower strikes me as the sort of woman who would just follow after him and drag him right back.”

  Madeline nodded. “She does seem very persistent.”

  “Not to mention she isn’t afraid of him.” Mary poured herself a cup of tea, sipped, and then made a face when she realized it had gone cold. “If we ever had any hope of By taking a wife, I believe this is it. Our one chance. What do you say, Maggie?”

  Their youngest sister bit her lip, then sighed. “I say…we try it. But if it doesn’t work–”

  “Naturally we had absolutely nothing to do with it and have never met Lady Katherine in our entire lives.” Mary patted Margaret’s leg. “That’s an excellent idea.”

  “I was going to say we not interfere in Byron’s personal life again.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Madeline scoffed. “What are sisters for, if not to meddle and poke and interfere?” She tossed her head. “It’s what we do, darling. Besides, if we ever any desire to marry ourselves it would be best if Byron did so first. As it stands he’s managed to scare off every single suitor that’s come calling. And you know how much I liked Lord Armstrong.”

  “Lord Armstrong is a toad who just wanted your dowry,” Mary interceded.

  “Perhaps,” Madeline acknowledged stiffly. “But he was my toad to stomp on if I wished, and our dear brother sent him hopping back to his mushroom infested log before I had the opportunity to do so.”

  “Toads notwithstanding, Byron desperately needs someone to soften his rough edges, and I think Kitty is up to the task,” Mary declared loyally. It was clear Lady Katherine had made quite an impression on her, and wasn’t difficult to guess why. The two women shared a very similar personality. They were both bold, fearless, and unafraid to go after what they wanted. Unlike Margaret, who often startled at the sight of her own shadow and didn’t possess a bold bone in her entire body. Still, even she had to acknowledge that Kitty, for all that her wild plan was likely doomed to fail, was more suited to Byron than anyone else they’d ever met.

  “I hope so,” she murmured. “I truly hope so.”

  Because Mary was right about one thing. Their brother did need someone to soften his rough edges. Their sharpness had already severed his relationships with anyone he’d once considered a friend, and it wasn’t long before they drove everyone else away…including his sisters.

  Chapter Seven

  “Lady Katherine.” Stopping short at the sight of Kitty marching towards him from between the narrow rows of Sir Weathersby’s Dry Goods & Masculine Supplies, Byron returned the box of cigars he’d been considering purchasing and folded his arms. “What the devil are you doing here?” His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Are you following me?”

  “Following you?” she said wi
th a musical laugh that went straight to his loins. “Because we both just happen to be in a small, remote little shop at the edge of the village that only the locals know about? Don’t be absurd.”

  Byron remained unconvinced. “This is a store for men.”

  “I know that.” She rolled her eyes. “I am in need of, er–” Her hand shot out and pulled the first thing she touched off the shelf. “Wig powder.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You are in need of wig powder?”

  “Well, not me specifically. But someone I know is.”

  “Someone you know,” he said dubiously.

  “Yes. In fact, I’d best get two.” She retrieved a second container and, hugging them against her chest, walked towards the counter. Hesitating for only a moment, Byron cursed under his breath and followed, catching up to her just as she was reaching inside her reticule for a few shillings to pay for the wig powder.

  Wig powder.

  Honestly, did she think him that much of a fool? First it was Bacon the brown mare – which, although he’d yet to prove it, he knew for a bloody fact wasn’t her horse – and now it was two containers of chalky powder that had gone out of fashion twenty years ago. Byron snorted. If she really knew someone who needed the damn stuff he’d use it himself. It was painfully clear what Kitty was doing. For whatever reason, she was following him. And he had a feeling he knew what that reason was.

  Byron had been pursued by many different women over the years. All of them wanted the same thing: his title. But none of them had been so utterly brazen about it as Lady Katherine Dower. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed by her tenacity.

  Annoyed, he decided when he walked outside and she immediately fell in step behind him. Very annoyed. But also aroused when the breeze shifted and he caught an unexpected whiff of her perfume, an intoxicating mix of sweet vanilla and sultry honeysuckle that teased his senses and had him gritting his teeth against desire to yank her into his arms.

  Under no circumstances was he going to kiss Kitty again. He shouldn’t have done it the first time, but he’d let his control slip and before he knew what was happening they were on the ground and his tongue was down her bloody throat.

  It hadn’t exactly been his smoothest attempt at seduction. Nor even his best. But it had been raw, and real, and had unsettled him to the point of deliberately trying not to think about it, which was why he’d been avoiding Glenmoore Manor – and its resident feline – at all costs. Yet despite all his best efforts here she was, in a large village in a tiny shop that only a handful of people knew existed, all of those people being men. Until in strolled Kitty, wearing a ridiculously large hat with feathers sticking off the side and a dress in pale yellow over which she’d draped a sheer muslin shawl. A sheer muslin shawl that had done nothing to prevent his gaze from devouring the tops of her breasts as they threatened to spill from her bodice when she’d knelt to pick up a dropped shilling.

  His throat tightened. Kitty – and her lovely breasts – were not good for his self-control. And anything not good for his self-control was always subsequently removed from his life with the deliberate precision of a surgeon cutting away infected flesh.

  Temptation was a weakness.

  A weakness he would not allow.

  No matter what form it came in…or how much he desired it.

  How much he desired her.

  Which he did. More than he cared to admit. To himself, and certainly to her. Like water pressing against a dam Kitty was constantly searching for any soft spot she could wriggle her way through, and once she found it…once she found it they’d both drown.

  Jaw clenched, Byron struck off across the street, intending to put as much distance between himself and Kitty as possible. But the stubborn little minx followed doggedly behind, running the last few steps to escape a cart moving briskly down the lane.

  With a blistering reprimand poised on the tip of his tongue he spun around just as she lifted her skirts and hopped up onto the edge of the sidewalk. Or rather, tried to hop up on the edge of the sidewalk.

  In her haste to catch him she’d misjudged the distance and her ankle rolled as the smooth edge of her leather soled shoe slipped off the hard stone and she went stumbling back. Byron automatically lunged forward to catch her, his quick reflexes ensuring he managed to snare one of her wrists as her arms spun in the air like two windmills. He pulled her onto the sidewalk…just as she lost her grip on the containers of wig powder.

  With an ominous crack they struck the ground at the same time and a fine white mist exploded everywhere.

  No, not everywhere, Byron corrected furiously as he wiped at his eyes and began to hack the wig powder out of his lungs with great, barking coughs.

  It exploded on him.

  Bloody hell, it was all over. When he’s managed to rub most of it out of his eyes he glanced down at his clothes and released a vicious curse when he saw every inch of his jacket, waistcoat, cravat, and trousers were covered in a thin layer of white.

  The shite was in his hair. It was in his nostrils. It was in his goddamned ears. And Kitty…Kitty was laughing, he realized incredulously when he raised his head and saw her doubled over nearby, tears streaming down her cheeks as her entire body shook with laughter. Not only that, but the damned wig powder hadn’t touched a single inch of her. With the exception of a loose curl dangling from her temple, she was as flawlessly beautiful as ever.

  Beautiful and infuriating and so bloody tantalizing with her gray eyes bright with amusement and her cheeks flushed pink from giggling that he didn’t know whether he wanted to strangle her or kiss her. Since neither would be looked kindly upon in such a public area, he took her forcibly by the elbow and dragged her to a nearby alley tucked between two brick shops.

  Not trusting himself to touch her, he let her go as soon as they’d ducked out of sight behind a tower of wooden crates. He raked his fingers through his hair in muted frustration which caused more powder to fly up in a cloud of hazy white. Kitty just laughed harder, slapping a hand against the brick as she pressed her knees together and struggled to stay upright.

  “Oh,” she gasped, wiping at her eyes. “I think I may pee.”

  “I am glad you find this so entertaining,” said Byron stiffly. Hands on his hips, he stalked halfway down the alley, turned, and stalked back. Mouth curled in derision, he glared down at Kitty, fingertips biting into the waistband of his trousers as he resisted the urge to take her in his arms and shake her until she stopped laughing…and then kiss her until they were both breathless.

  “I’m – I’m terribly sorry that you – no, no.” One glance at him and she dissolved into giggles again. “I cannot apologize properly when you look like a – a grumpy ghost.” With another squeal of laughter of she collapsed against the wall, slender shoulders shaking.

  A grumpy ghost?

  He was the Duke of Wakefield, one of the wealthiest and most feared men in all of England, and this – this precocious little imp thought he looked like a grumpy ghost?

  It wasn’t to be born.

  Eyes flashing with blue fire, Byron slapped his hands against the brick, scowled fiercely down at Kitty’s tear streaked face, and then he did the only thing he could think of to make her stop laughing.

  He kissed her.

  As Byron’s mouth descended on hers, Kitty made a mental note. The next time she wanted a duke to kiss her all she had to do was cover him in wig powder. Not the first thing one thought of doing, but it was effective.

  Very effective, she discovered with no small amount of delight when he sank his teeth into her bottom lip with a grumbly growl that sent little shards of heat shooting all the way down to her toes. Without hesitation she flung her arms around his neck and plastered her body against his, nipples hardening to shameless points of arousal as they were pressed into the hard plane of his chest.

  She could feel the rigid length of his cock throbbing on her belly, and found herself both thrilled and somewhat intimidated by its size. Unlike m
any young ladies who preferred to know as little as possible about bedroom matters, Kitty had always had a fiendish curiosity for everything sexual and had learned, by word of mouth and a few scandalously descriptive books, precisely what happened when a man made love to a woman. Which was how she knew that was supposed to go in there. Although how it was going to fit she hadn’t a clue.

  A problem, she decided, for another time. Right now her only focus was their kiss…and what a kiss it was.

  Passionate and savage and demanding, it was everything she’d secretly desired and been desperately missing. When Byron kissed her she felt her entire body come alive, as if jolted by an electric shock. Her blood burned hotter. Her stomach knotted. Her thighs tingled. And all this even before he deepened the kiss with a demanding thrust of his tongue.

  More powder flew into the air as her fingers dove into his hair, satin gloves disappearing into thick locks that were dark mahogany in the shadows and glowed like auburn gold in the sunlight. Her shoulder blades pushed against warm brick as he ruthlessly devoured every inch of her mouth, leaving no corner unexplored until it wasn’t so much a kiss as a conquering. But Kitty was no princess in a tower easily cowed by the rumblings of a dragon below.

  Refusing to shy away from the passion that threatened to consume them both, she met her duke kiss for kiss and flame for flame. Her hips rocked forward, instinctively rubbing the dampest part of her against the hardest part of him. Her lips muffled his groan, and when she fluttered her lashes open to peek at him she saw his face was contorted as if he were in pain. But it was the sweetest kind of agony, one that roared to a fever pitch when he roughly cupped her breasts, lowered his head, and licked her nipples through the cotton fabric of her gown.

  Kitty gasped, her spine arching away from the wall as she gave herself up to him. He lingered over her bosom, teasing first one swollen peak and then the other until she was nearly delirious with desire.