The Brooding Duke 0f Danforth (HQR Historical)

by Christine Merrill

  Though Lenore looked as amused by this as the Countess, Abigail was not sure that she wanted even an oblique reference to the awkward association between three quarters of their set. Since people had been watching to see what they would do together for the last several days, this would be the topic of conversation for all of tomorrow.

  But everything was forgotten as Comstock tuned his instrument, then instructed them to, ‘Bow to your partner and bow to your corner.’ The dance itself was not so very different from reels that she had done before. But she had never heard them set to such strange music, nor had she seen an earl serve as dancing master, plucking out tunes with surprising skill while calling strange, chanted instructions that made no sense if they had not been explained beforehand.

  But the best thing about this dance was that there was no time to chat. As hours went by, they did nothing but laugh and stumble through the steps, and then laugh some more at the Earl’s increasingly ridiculous instructions. When they finally stopped, the servants served a buffet of salmon and champagne followed by moulded ices and lemon tarts.

  As they set their plates aside, someone called, ‘Comstock! Are you capable of playing a waltz on that beastly instrument?’

  Though the words had come from beside her, it took Abby a moment to recognise the voice. Perhaps it was because she had never heard Benedict speak louder than a sitting-room drawl. Nor had he ever sounded quite so joyful. When she glanced over at him, she was surprised to see him grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘I suppose I could manage,’ the Earl said, smiling back at him, tuning his strings and plucking out ‘Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes’.

  Then Benedict tapped her on the shoulder and bowed deeply. ‘May I have this dance, Miss Prescott?’

  For a moment she stood there, mouth open, unable to form an answer. ‘We have been dancing together all evening,’ she reminded him. ‘You are supposed to pick a new partner.’

  ‘There are no such rules here. Now answer me quickly, or someone else will try to take you away from me,’ he said. ‘I see several men coming across the room for you.’

  She started to turn around to see if he was telling the truth. But before she could, he had taken her hand in his, scooped the other around her waist and was swinging her into the first turn of the dance.

  ‘I thought we agreed to be careful about drawing attention to ourselves,’ she said.

  ‘Dancing with you will do nothing to jeopardise your reputation,’ he said, still smiling. ‘Even if it is a dance that is not allowed at Almack’s.’

  ‘It is not too scandalous,’ she said. ‘I have waltzed before.’

  ‘I am aware of that,’ he said. ‘You do it very nicely.’ He spun her again.

  ‘And you as well,’ she replied.

  ‘It bodes well for the future, I think. It is proof that we suit.’ He smiled down at her. ‘And now you are blushing. I mean that it is proof that you trust me enough to follow where I lead.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, quietly.

  ‘If you will allow me to lead, the next time we are together,’ he added.

  This made her blush even redder.

  And he laughed. It was so unexpected that it startled her out of step.

  ‘Are you attempting to prove me wrong?’ he asked, giving her hand a squeeze.

  ‘I just realised, you are talking to me,’ she said.

  ‘I am aware of the fact,’ he said. ‘I have done so before, you know.’

  ‘Of course. But not when people can see us,’ she said. ‘Tonight, you are different. I have never seen you so relaxed in my presence.’ Even in the conservatory, there had been a certain reserve as he had spoken. It was only when they had stopped talking that he had truly relaxed.

  But now it almost seemed he might be blushing. Or perhaps the exertion of dancing had put colour in his cheeks. ‘It takes me a while to grow used to the company of others. Lenore says I do not make sufficient effort. Usually I prefer to keep my own company. But you, Miss Prescott, are very easy to talk to.’

  ‘Then I shall consider myself honoured to have your confidence,’ she said. The words between them were polite and distant. Nothing had been said that would be inappropriate to share with strangers. Yet, if he had climbed up to the musician’s gallery and shouted his love for her, it could not have been more exciting.

  The dance was ending and he led her carefully to the side of the floor as Comstock was persuaded to try a gavotte. They changed partners. And though they did not stand up with each other for the rest of the evening, it did not matter. They had never been closer and she had never been happier.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When they retired, even though it was well past two, her mother remained in her room for nearly an hour, chattering excitedly and reliving each moment of the evening’s entertainment. The night had been a true novelty for her. Since all her London invitations had included her husband, there had not been an evening for years that had not been spoiled in some way by the presence of Father. Abby reminded herself to offer Lady Comstock a special thank you before they departed for making the woman so happy.

  At last, her mother returned to her own room, leaving Abby alone with her dangerous thoughts. Though the dancing had ended long ago, she felt as if she was still spinning, waltzing around the room in Benedict’s arms.

  It was his smile that had undone her. It was not the first time that he had lowered his guard. The moments in the conservatory had been particularly sweet, when he had lost the last of his control and gone to a place beyond normal pleasure.

  But tonight, he had been not just happy, he had been joyful. It had been the same expression she had seen on him when he had been with Lenore in Bond Street. He had been chatting and talking and...

  Looking at her.

  She had watched the two of them together in the week they’d been here and their interactions had been pleasant enough. But he had never looked at Lenore as he had on that day in London. He had been staring at Abby through the window of the modiste’s shop. And though he enjoyed talking with his friend, it had been the sight of her that had made him joyful. Even then, before they’d known each other at all, it had made him happy when he’d thought of marrying her.

  Everything might have been different if he had told her how he felt.

  The maid had prepared her for bed, but sleep was impossible. She was sitting on the edge of the mattress, listening to the wind rattling against the windows and thinking of him. And it was not as she’d expected to.

  Last night, though she had still been angry about Lenore’s trick with the book, those feelings had paled compared to her memories of the conservatory. She remembered each detail of their time, what he had said, what he had done and how it had felt. Just thinking about it had brought a return of the feelings. They were not as intense, of course. More like a happy sigh then an eruption of ecstasy. If it should end between them after the storm ended, she would put herself to sleep each night for the rest of her life, just thinking about him.

  But tonight, there was curiosity along with the desire and longing. She wanted to feel again what she had felt. More than anything, she wanted to see his smile and sit at his side. She wanted him to tell her his true feelings, to make her believe that what was happening between them was as real as she wanted it to be.

  To do that, they had to be together. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she was up from bed and out the door of her room, only remembering the need for secrecy after she had closed the door behind her. There was no one in their remote part of the hall, but if she saw someone on the way, she would claim to be going downstairs for a book.

  She covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing. Lord knew what people would think of her now if she wanted reading material. If any of them had been to the library in daylight, they would not believe she was going back to it in darkness, for it was the most fo
rbidding room she had ever seen.

  If she ran into anyone now, she would ask them what they were doing out so late at night. If she meant to ruin her reputation with a liaison, then she would be as brazen about it as Lenore. That woman might be steeped in sin, but she was at least pleased about it.

  The main hallway was empty in both directions, so she ran the last few yards to Benedict’s bedroom, pulling the door open and darting inside without bothering to knock, then shutting it quickly and quietly behind her.

  Before she could turn again, Benedict had seized her by the shoulders and spun her in his arms. ‘You should not be here.’ The words should have been a scold, but the expression on his face was welcoming, spreading into an easy smile as he bent and kissed her until she was breathless. He was wearing a dressing gown, but by the feel of his bare chest pressed to her, and the familiar hardness between his legs, there was nothing beneath it.

  ‘I could not stay away,’ she said when he released her.

  ‘I am glad.’ He reached for her again and she danced out of his grasp, running behind the bench at the end of the bed to put space between them.

  He made a playful grab for her, ending in an exaggerated failure, his arms closing on the empty air, grinning all the time. The Duke of Danforth was teasing her, ready to chase her round the bed as if the taking of her maidenhead was some bawdy game.

  And the most surprising thing about it was that she liked it. She wanted to run, but not too quickly, for she did not know what she would do if he did not catch her soon. ‘I need to ask you a question,’ she said, keeping the length of the bench between them as he started to circle.

  He paused, disappointed. ‘You came to talk.’

  She shrugged. ‘And...for other reasons, as well.’

  ‘Oh.’ He gave her an encouraging nod.

  ‘But first, I need to know something.’

  He sat down on the bench, patting the place beside him. Then he remained silent as she took her seat, waiting for her to speak.

  ‘When we were in London, did you feel about me as you do now?’

  He thought for a moment. ‘I was not sure. But I thought I might.’

  He was hesitant, falling into a lifetime of careful reserve and slipping away from her again. She tried another way. ‘Tonight, when we danced... I liked it very much.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. It was a very proper response and very different from the man who had been ready to chase her around the room a moment ago.

  ‘And the things we did in the conservatory. I liked them as well,’ she said, watching his reaction.

  The smile that had disappeared began to return. ‘And if we were to do even more than that?’

  Now she lost her nerve, staring down at their hands and the way their fingers twined together. ‘I would like that best of all.’

  He leaned towards her until his lips could brush her ear. ‘I will see that you do.’ He reached for her and turned her face towards his for a kiss. Then he was undoing the buttons of her nightdress and his hand slipped inside, covering her breast, massaging it until the nipple grew hard.

  She turned her face away again and pressed her own hand to her chest, trapping his to still it. ‘Is it proper for me to want to do what we are about to do?’

  The tip of his tongue traced the shell of her ear, then his teeth closed on the lobe, making every inch of her burn with longing. ‘What we will be doing is right. But if we are not married? No, it is not proper.’

  He bit her ear again and, for a moment, she forgot why it mattered. Before he stopped kissing her, his lips traced the cord of her throat all the way to the shoulder. The sensation coursed in her blood and she arched her back, offering herself to him.

  When he felt her submit, he pushed her back against the bedpost behind them and spread the gown wide, baring both breasts and lowering his head to take them.

  She gulped a breath, trying to remember what it was that she needed to know. ‘Why did we not do this in London, when you said you wanted to?’

  He sighed and looked up. ‘First, it was necessary to speak to your father, then to propose and to wait for the reading of the banns.’

  ‘We would have had three whole weeks to be together,’ she reminded him. ‘We would have found a way.’

  ‘I did not know you then, as I know you now,’ he said.

  ‘We have been here for little more than three days,’ she countered.

  ‘And it has been an eternity,’ he said. ‘It was difficult to be alone with you in London. But here, we have nothing but privacy and I can no longer control myself.’

  ‘Nor can I,’ she admitted.

  He kissed her mouth again. This time, it was slower, deeper, and he did not release her until her lips felt swollen. ‘No one will interrupt us here,’ he whispered, reaching for the hem of her gown. ‘They would not dare.’

  Her hand tightened involuntarily, pressing his hand against her breast, and he took it as an invitation to squeeze while his other hand moved gently up her thigh. They were alone for as long as she wished to remain with him. And, knowing what had occurred in the brief time she had spent with him, she was both frightened and excited by what might happen tonight.

  But before it did, she had to be sure of him.

  ‘Wait.’

  It was a sign of his excellent control that he listened to her, his hands going slack. ‘You are not ready?’

  ‘You have not... I do not know...’ She stumbled over the words. Even though his mouth was not on her, the knowledge that it was inches from her skin made every part of her body long for his kiss. ‘What...?’ She gasped. ‘What happens afterwards?’

  Now, he stopped, surprised. ‘I thought that was understood.’

  She laughed. Or at least, she tried to. The sound came out as something between a sigh and a squeak. Then she took a deep breath and pushed his hands away. ‘You have said nothing, Your Grace. You have given me no assurance. You have made no promises to me. Before I give myself to you, I need to know what will happen tomorrow.’

  ‘I have done it again, haven’t I?’ he said, leaning back just far enough to allow her sanity to return. ‘Making assumptions about your understanding of my motives?’ Keeping his hands away from her, he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the jawline, then tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear so he could look into her eyes.

  For a moment, her resolve failed. Suppose she had pushed too hard? Suppose he thought the better of what they had been doing and was about to send her back to her room? She moved towards him again, opening her mouth for another kiss.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her away. ‘I cannot do what I need to, if you look at me in that way,’ he said. His eyes were averted, but there was a smile playing on his lips. ‘I cannot think and speak. All I want to do is act.’

  The grip on her shoulders lingered for a moment and he sighed, as if gaining strength. Then, one hand trailed down her arm to take her fingers, touching them lightly to his lips as he dropped to one knee. ‘Miss Abigail Prescott, I love you as I have never loved a woman before. Will you do me the honour of giving me your heart to keep and your hand in marriage?’

  This proposal was as different from the last one as the moon was from the sun. Yet it was still not quite what she had expected. Though she did not doubt that he was sincere, there was a formality to it, as though he had found the perfect words in a book and was reciting them to her. But he had said that he loved her and he had sworn that he never lied.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, laughing in relief that he had finally said the one word she had needed to hear. ‘Yes.’

  He let out a sigh of his own, as if he had feared that she might refuse him. ‘At last,’ he said. ‘Finally.’ Then he looked up at her with a sly smile and his hands were on her thighs, easing her legs apart.

  She resisted, confused. They were not even
in the bed yet and he was still on the floor before her. She was not totally sure what was happening, but she was certain that it had not been part of her mother’s explanation.

  ‘Since I am on my knees before you, I am in the perfect position to beg. But I hope that you will allow me to retain my honour and will give me freely what I want.’ He was smiling again and far more glib now that there was a goal in sight.

  A delicious shiver ran down her spine, settling near to the place where his hands touched her. She relaxed, closing her eyes.

  ‘You will not be sorry,’ he said, in a soft tone that made her insides melt. She felt a chill as he bunched her gown at her waist and then the heat of his mouth on the skin of her leg.

  He kissed her between the legs, just as he had on the mouth. His tongue swirled, darted and drew secret patterns like the sigil of some magic spell. And it must have been magic, for the pleasure was unlike anything she’d felt. She broke for him almost instantly, crying his name, then swallowing the sound as she realised that someone might hear it.

  He chuckled against her thigh, then rose and scooped her off the bench, carrying her to the bed. ‘Velvet hangings, my love. Thick walls as well. Do not be afraid to tell me what you feel.’

  ‘Benedict?’ she said, as he pulled back the covers and tossed her into the middle of it.

  He let out a happy sigh. ‘If you wish to cool my blood, then call me Danforth. But do not think you can use my given name to get me to stop.’

  ‘Benedict,’ she repeated. ‘I do not want to stop. But will we be married very soon?’

  ‘Whenever you like.’ He reached for her, pulling her nightdress up and over her head, leaving her naked. Then he undid the sash and stepped out of his dressing gown, letting it fall to the floor. ‘I will swim to the village to get the vicar, if that is what you require of me.’ Then he stared down at her, dazed. ‘But not right now.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she agreed, staring in fascination at the muscles of his stomach.