The Heiress Gets a Duke

by Harper St. George

  “That whoreson!”

  Clark dug further into the box and produced a piece of paper, but Evan had difficulty focusing on the words. That son of a bitch Lichfield had stolen from them. The man had played the trusted servant and confidant only to steal from the man he had served for nearly forty years. Impotent anger raged through Evan. How unfortunate the object of his rage was thousands of miles away. Perhaps it was very fortunate indeed, because Evan could have happily strangled him.

  Unable to sit still, Evan bolted to his feet and paced the cramped office. The need to hit something coursed through him, but he managed to control it. “Have you contacted the authorities? I want him arrested and tried.”

  Clark stared at him before coming to his senses and nodding. “Yes, he was taken into custody by the local sheriff and handed over to a U.S. marshal. I have requested that he be delivered back to London, but that could take time.”

  “Why haven’t you told me any of this?”

  “As you know, I only became aware of his possible existence in Montana Territory before you left for Hampshire last week. There was no hint of the mining company until a few days ago, and, as I explained, I wanted to make absolutely certain that my information was accurate before passing it along to you.”

  “Yes, of course. That is why I hired you.” Evan inclined his head in understanding.

  Mollified, Clark nodded. “Your Grace, forgive me, but I think you may be overlooking the bigger issue here.”

  “Bigger than Lichfield stealing from my dead father?”

  “Yes, well, there is the issue of the mining shares. The company has been productive since its inception, which means your shares are worth roughly £1.2 million, but that information is sourced from an outdated balance sheet. I suspect they are worth considerably more now.”

  “More?”

  “More.”

  “Bloody fucking hell.” Evan sank back down into his chair and leaned forward to drop his head into his hands. The figure was unbelievable.

  “I am told that Lichfield lives like a king, so I doubt there is room to recover any annuities you might be owed from previous years. But, should you sell your stock, or even a small portion, we could have funds within the week transferred to London.”

  Clark droned on about stock valuation, annuities, and extradition procedures, but Evan was having a difficult time taking it all in. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was free. Relief made him feel light as if he were rising like a balloon. His tenants would have funds for leaky roofs and new equipment. His mother would not be forced to leave Sterling House. She could buy new dresses. His sisters no longer had to wear clothing they had outgrown. He could fund all of the plans for Charrington Manor and his other estates that he had discussed with August.

  August! She was also free. Free to choose not to marry him. She could go back to her life as she had planned it. He had to tell her. She would be ecstatic. He started to rise but sank back down into the cushioned seat as he grasped the reality of that.

  She would choose not to marry him. She had never wanted their marriage, so why would she choose him now? Disappointment and sadness drained away every drop of joy. A very selfish part of him wanted to pretend this conversation had never happened or even toss away the mine shares. He wanted the life they had planned in those hours alone at Charrington Manor. But that wouldn’t be fair. He had to offer her freedom. It was the one thing he could give her.

  “Your Grace? Your Grace?” From his puzzled expression, it appeared that Clark had been trying to get his attention for some time. “There is the Crenshaw matter to discuss. I have made certain to keep the mining news quiet. Not even my clerks know, so the decision is yours to make. Do you want to move forward with the betrothal contract?” He withdrew a thick sheaf of papers from that bottomless box. “I have it here, ready to be finalized.”

  Evan was forced to clear his throat to speak. “You were able to receive the concessions from Crenshaw?” The past several days had seen the contract volleyed back and forth from Clark to Crenshaw. The man had been nearly belligerent about not allowing his own daughter to stay employed as a stakeholder in the London-based portion of Crenshaw Iron, while Evan had insisted her employment be assured in writing.

  “Yes. Yesterday I met with him and his son, Maxwell. It seems the son was able to persuade him.”

  “Ah, Maxwell Crenshaw. It is good to see that at least one of them has sense.” Maxwell had left his card at both Sterling House and the club in an apparent bid to meet with him. Evan was sorry he had not yet arranged a meeting. Now it appeared there was no need. An ache opened up in his chest at how close they had been to having happiness together. But even then he had to remind himself of his own selfishness. She had been coerced. There couldn’t be true happiness unless she chose it for herself.

  Evan rose and Clark followed. “Do you not want to sign the contract?” Clark asked.

  “To what purpose? I am no longer in need of their funds. God knows, I loathe the idea of taking a bride who does not want me.”

  Clark swallowed. “Yes, I suppose, but he agreed to your requests. Unless I mistook your earlier conversation, Miss Crenshaw has provisionally agreed to the match.”

  Evan smiled. “Are you saying I would be a fool to pass up such an offer?”

  The man flushed. “It is a fine offer, Your Grace.”

  “It is,” said Evan as he took his leave of the office. “But that choice should be for August herself.”

  He needed to talk to her. The betrothal ring he had retrieved from the family safe at Sterling House burned a hole in his pocket. It had been there ever since he had returned from Charrington Manor with thoughts of a brand-new future before him. At the time, he had been certain it would grace August’s finger by the end of the week.

  Now he was not so sure. He wanted to give it to her. Now that he had begun to see a future with her, it was impossible to imagine one without her. Especially after he knew her taste and the soft sounds of pleasure she made when he was inside her. He wanted more of that. More of her.

  But would she choose him? He had to go see her and find out.

  * * *

  * * *

  The Duke of Rothschild to see you.”

  August had been sitting at the writing desk in the family’s drawing room in the back of the house when the footman made the announcement. The telegram she had been drafting to direct funds to their newly opened London account was immediately forgotten. Her hands went to her hair, her skirt, and then back to her hair as she rose. Shoving her stockinged feet into her slippers, she said, “Show him in.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before the door was pushed open and Evan brushed past the footman. He gave her a long, sweeping examination that traveled the length of her body and back. She found herself nearly preening under his gaze as she remembered the last time she had seen him and the night that had preceded it. A glimmer of awareness came to life in her belly. She had missed him. Her fingers ached to bury themselves in the thick silk of his hair, and she could already anticipate the hard length of his torso pressed to her front. A pulse beat between her thighs, reminding her that his hard length had been there as well. Stubble covered the lower half of his face. It was a few shades darker than the hair on his head and made him seem only barely civilized in his gentleman attire, as if the clothing were only a facade. He reminded her very much of the fighter he had been on their first meeting.

  “I shall return with tea,” said the footman, interrupting their moment.

  “No tea,” she said, not wanting to be disturbed, but then thought better of it. “Unless you want some?” she asked Evan.

  “Leave us,” he said without looking at the man. The weight of his gaze seemed to caress her across the distance.

  The footman nodded and left the door ajar, but Evan reached back to push it closed. Her nerve endings came
alive at the simple gesture, and the fact that she was alone with him again, delightfully alone.

  “Where is your family?” he asked as he crossed toward her, his gaze heavy with charming intensity.

  “Out for the afternoon.” Mother had all but demanded that August go calling with her and Violet, but August had refused, preferring to stay home and work, though she had actually spent most of her time staring out the window and sulking. It wasn’t how she had categorized it at the time, but now that he was here, she knew that she had been moping for him. Despite the fact that she and her family had been in London for several days, he had not sent a message to her as the marriage contract had flown back and forth during negotiations.

  “Where have you been?” She almost grimaced at how that sounded. Needy. He had things to do, and she did not want to give the impression that she had been waiting for him, accurate as it was.

  He grinned and came to a stop before her. He did not reach for her, but his fingertip brushed over one of the onyx buttons on the front of her dress. “I missed you, too.”

  Her face burned as she stared down at that long, graceful finger. Remembering how it had touched her and brought her such pleasure made her body prickle in anticipation. Only when she met his gaze again did she see a hint of the uncertainty that lingered there. Days ago he would have taken her into his arms, but not now, apparently.

  “Something has happened?”

  “My apologies for not coming to call earlier. Some issues have come to light with my solicitor, and I wanted to see them through before I spoke with you. I have come directly from his office.” The warmth in his eyes faded with each word.

  A fist of dread clenched tight in her belly. This was not the man who had held her and kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her only days ago. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything is fine. Perhaps we should sit.” He gestured to the sofa and waited for her to get settled before sitting beside her. His knee pressed into the fabric of her skirt, reminding her of the weight of his leg on hers. In the days since their night together, she found herself closing her eyes quite often to remember how he felt. “I am glad your family is not here. I wanted to talk to you privately.”

  He took a breath and her heart tumbled. “Evan, please.” Despite her intention to keep herself contained, she reached out and touched his hand. He immediately turned it over beneath hers so that their palms were touching and brought her hand to his lips. His eyes fell closed briefly as his lips touched her skin. An errant lock of hair fell over his brow, and she gently brushed it back. “Tell me what has happened.”

  He smiled, but there was a distinctive note of sadness in his eyes. “Everything. Everything has happened.” There was another pause during which she was quite certain she was going to lose her grip on any pretense of remaining calm. “After his death, I began to question my father’s solicitor on irregularities in the reports he presented to me and the ledgers I reviewed. It soon became apparent that he was lying, so I dismissed him. Soon after that, he disappeared. Clark, my current solicitor, believed that he had absconded with funds, though we could find no proof of that. Well, he was recently found in Montana Territory claiming to be an agent of my father’s and living like a king.”

  “I don’t understand.” But dread was spreading through her like spilled ink.

  “It appears that my father owns shares in a mining company that has been very profitable. His solicitor had scrubbed any mention of this investment from the estate, hoping that he could claim it for himself.”

  “I see . . . So you are not the pauper you believed yourself to be.”

  He smiled in obvious relief, and his grip on her hand tightened infinitesimally. “Apparently not. The shares were worth over one million pounds last year. Likely more now.”

  She nearly swallowed her own tongue at the figure. “That is . . . quite a lot.”

  “It is.” He spoke as calmly as she had ever heard anyone speak in regard to that amount. “I have come to release you from our betrothal.”

  He didn’t want to marry her now. Why would he? It had only ever been about securing a fortune for him. Her heart twisted in her chest as she thought back to that night in the library. We have to stop now. There will be time once we are married. He had tried to push her away. She had been the one to ask for more. She did not regret a moment of it, but it stung to think that maybe those moments hadn’t meant as much to him when they had meant so very much to her.

  “August?”

  She rose and walked to the fireplace. Her voice seemed lodged in her throat, and she had to force it out. “That is rather unexpected.” She hoped she sounded unaffected and lighthearted. If he wanted to be free of her, then she wouldn’t guilt him.

  The fabric of his clothing rustled when he stood, and the very air around her seemed to thicken as he approached. She closed her eyes to savor the heat of his body along her back, or maybe that was her imagination. He wasn’t touching her.

  “I did not mean that we have to call off the betrothal. Only that we could now . . . if you want.” Was he offering the choice to her, then? Did he mean that he wanted the marriage anyway? Hope blossomed inside her, only to be crushed by his next words. “Obviously, if there is a need, I will marry you.”

  “A need?”

  His palm touched her upper arm, the heat warming her through the sleeve. “If there are consequences of our night together.” His voice was soft and kind; something about that tightened the grip on her heart, twisting it more. “I should have taken precautions, but I was too certain of the future, it seems.”

  He meant a pregnancy. He only meant to do the honorable thing and marry her if she were with child, not because he wanted her as his wife. Her hand instinctively went to her belly. A second wave of sadness washed over her as she realized there would never be a child between them. Those tiny faces that had begun to take shape in her imaginings were gone as quickly as they had been conjured. It was silly to be sad about something she hadn’t really wanted to start with, but she was, because it turned out she had wanted that without even knowing.

  Responding to the gentle pressure of his hand, she turned to face him. She expected to see a glimmer of fear or a hint of anxiety as he waited for her to answer him. A hope that she would relieve him of the burden. But there was only affection and warmth. It made the ache return to her throat, so she shook her head. “No, there is no need.”

  His brow furrowed. “Are you certain? It has only been days.”

  “Yes, very certain.” She blushed, embarrassed to be discussing such a personal issue with a man. “My time has come.”

  “Ah, I understand.” There was the slightest hesitation before he said, “I suppose it’s for the best.”

  For the best. The heaviness inside her sank even lower. For the best is how one described a loss that wasn’t truly a loss. He didn’t want marriage. This entire conversation felt very much as if she were losing him, and while she had wanted that very thing just days ago, now she wasn’t so certain. She would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to feeling some relief that her life could go back to how it was before him, but a larger part of her realized that it wouldn’t be the life she had been prepared to leave behind. There would be a void now.

  “Yes,” she said, forcing her voice not to wobble as she gave him what she hoped was a smile. “I suppose there’s no need for a ring now.”

  He paused, studying her face as if he could see every painful emotion tearing through her. It wasn’t fair, because she couldn’t read his expression at all. Finally, he said, “No . . . No, I suppose there isn’t.”

  “How do you feel about the surprise inheritance?” she asked, needing to move this conversation along. She wanted to be alone to sort things out. This wasn’t how things had been meant to go at all, and she didn’t know how to properly respond.

  His eyes lit up. “Reliev
ed. Despite evidence to the contrary, no one wants a marriage forced on them. And I am happy that I can provide for my family again.”

  She nodded, swallowing thickly as the ache swelled in her chest. It was easy to forget that their betrothal had been forced on him as much as on her. Of course he would be happy not to be forced to wed. Though they shared an affection, everyone knew she was not the material from which duchesses were made.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, his gaze searching hers.

  August forced a brightness to her expression. “I am happy for you.”

  It was true. Perhaps tomorrow she would feel better about all of this. Once the sting of loss had passed, she could go back to her life. It is what she had wanted.

  The intensity came back to his eyes as he dipped his head a bit to meet her gaze. “And for yourself?”

  A moment of panic took over that he could actually see her torn feelings. Giving a shrug, she gave him another strained smile. “Of course. It will be a welcome change to not have to dodge a fortune hunter with every step.”

  He laughed and surprised her by touching her cheek. “May I kiss you once more?” He was already moving in, barely giving her time to breathe out a yes before his mouth covered hers. His lips were soft and warm as they brushed hers. The tender ache in her chest expanded until she wanted to cry with the pain of loss, but she refused to do that and dampen his obvious joy. Instead, she took hold of the lapels of his coat and kissed him harder, hoping to convey all that she felt without words. His slight growth of beard rasped over the sensitive skin of her face, abrading it in a way that was unexpectedly pleasant. Unable to stop herself, she tasted him, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing hers.