The Perfect Duchess

by Jen YatesNZ

  A little stunned by this eulogy, Sheri bit her tongue on the retort that she was the trainer. If Dom thought she followed convention and had male staff to do all the real work, it might not be the best time to remind him how ‘original’ she was. It was bad enough, according to the busybodies of the ton anyway, that she owned Springwoods outright and indulged in the unladylike pastime of breeding horses—however good at it she was—without pointing out to all and sundry she trained the animals herself as well.

  ‘Thank you for that endorsement,’ she said. ‘I get great pleasure from seeing a woman well-mounted.’

  They’d entered the park as they talked and allowed the horses their heads for several minutes until they came to a secluded spot under the trees.

  ‘Shall we walk for a bit?’ Dom asked, reining in.

  ‘If you wish.’

  Her heart was thumping a little harder than usual and not from the exertion of the ride. She was alone in a secluded spot with the one man who could make her forget every sense of propriety she’d ever had. Dismounting, he turned to lift her down. Big hands firm at her waist and face only inches away, his eyes searched hers. Had he held her just a little longer than necessary? Her breathing hitched and her cheeks heated. Hopefully he thought it from the chilly morning air.

  Would he kiss her? Her mouth dropped open a little and panic fluttered beneath her breastbone. A smile, enigmatic and brief lit his eyes before he turned away to secure the horses.

  He has the most beautiful eyes, she thought helplessly, silvery dances of sunlight on dew-kissed grass. She’d better breathe if she didn’t want to spoil this encounter by fainting at his feet!

  Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow he set off across the grass towards the bank of the Serpentine.

  ‘I brought you here so we could talk.’

  She could think of nothing intelligent to say. She’d never allowed a man to reach the point of proposing—if that’s what Dom meant to do—nothing in her memory banks of social occasions had prepared her for this one. Silence hung heavy. She’d never really had any trouble talking to him before, but this was nothing like making social conversation.

  ‘I’m—not sure how to go about this,’ he said at last, proving he was suffering the same mental dilemma.

  Sheri’s heart simply beat faster.

  ‘Direct is probably best, I guess. We’ve known each other all our lives, after all.’

  His features were stern, the scar tensing—and her tongue had seized completely. He stopped and looked down at her, emerald eyes serious.

  ‘Why have you turned away every suitor who made a play for your hand—and what must I do to succeed where they failed?’

  Dear God, settle her crazy heart! Here was all she could desire in a man, practically offering for her hand—and his heart belonged to Jassie.

  Her brain, like her tongue, was not answering to any instruction she might give it, had she known what that instruction should be. Then both came unstuck at once, but without any guidance from her mind at all.

  ‘Love me,’ she blurted.

  Silence, taut and uncomfortable followed and she had to explain, for what could he say, he who had no love to give?

  ‘Like Papa and Mama—and your parents. That’s all I want.’

  Finally her heart stopped crashing about in her chest and she regained some control over her faculties, knew what she had to say.

  ‘You love Jassie and have for so long there’s no reason to think that will change. What is left for me?’

  ‘All the rest of me,’ Dom responded solemnly, his gaze never leaving hers. ‘All I am I’d pledge to you. We’re comfortable in one another’s company. We like one another. I hoped we could start with that. I’m not proposing here and expecting an answer straight away. I’m asking to be allowed to court you. I’m asking you to spend time with me so we can discover whether marriage between us might be possible.’

  He had both her hands now and the world had narrowed to the two of them.

  ‘You’re everything I could ask for in a Duchess—even more suited than Jassie by virtue of your birth and—as someone recently pointed out to me—we visually complement one another—you so fair and I so dark—if such were of any importance. Will you at least consider it?’

  And we’d make beautiful babies. Jassie had said that, filling her mind with pictures too painful to contemplate.

  Gently extricating her hands, Sheri resumed walking, her eyes focused on the placement of each boot. Emotions roiled in her chest, questions danced in her brain and she could scarcely separate one from the other.

  Rarely had she allowed herself to lose control, had worked hard all her life to maintain it.

  ‘Tell me what you’re thinking, Sher. If it’s an outright ‘no’ my ego can stand it, but I hope you’ll at least give us a chance? What is your first thought? Just share that.’

  ‘It’s a question—well, two actually.’

  She’d focus on the questions. Then—maybe—the emotions would settle themselves.

  ‘Bax?’

  His mouth tightened, his jaw and the scar flexed with annoyance.

  ‘It’s—a personal matter between my cousin and I.’

  ‘I had the distinct feeling—somehow—it involved me too,’ she said, keeping her gaze on the distant glint of sunshine on water.

  ‘I’ll—sort him out. You’ve nothing to worry about from Bax.—What was your other question?’

  Sensing she would get no more than this from him she said, ‘The Duchess of Wolverton. There seemed to be something personal between you.’

  She thought for a moment he’d turn on his heel and leave her there. But as if he suddenly recalled who she was and where they were, he resumed walking, his face a study in darkness.

  ‘My turn to ask that you talk to me, Dom,’ she said, slipping her hand back into the crook of his elbow. ‘If we are to contemplate a lifetime’s commitment to one another we should at least be able to talk about—things.’

  ‘Things?’

  One dark eyebrow quirked and something wicked glinted in the green depths of his eyes.

  ‘Does that mean you’re at least considering it?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not refusing outright,’ Sheri murmured. ‘But I know what my heart needs. And yours is not free.’

  His strides matched hers for several beats of silence.

  ‘Perhaps then—you should know of my—history—with Veronica. I’ve not tried explaining it to anyone before.—Veronica was the first woman I asked to marry me.’

  They’d wandered far from the horses and he pressed a hand over hers where it lay on his arm and turned to retrace their steps.

  ‘Her grandmother was my grandfather’s sister and dowered with a large tract of Beresford land, which became part of Veronica’s dower. It was planned to marry her to St. Rock, my oldest brother who was then the Marquis of Strachleigh, to bring the land back into the family coffers.

  ‘We were both just eighteen when they came to stay so her and my brother could seal the pact. She was exquisite.’

  ‘She still is,’ Sheri murmured.

  ‘But then she still had the bloom of youth and—I took one look and was in thrall. It was mutual, so she said, and she crept into my bed the first night. I wasn’t a total innocent by then but she knew things that stole my senses and completely blinded me to anything else. I fell, like a bucket of lead into a well. I thought she’d refuse St. Rock and wait until our parents would allow us to marry. She stomped all over my foolish dreams.

  ‘What did I have to offer her? I wasn’t only too young, but the third son with only a minor title and I was always going to be a pauper in comparison to St. Rock. Her heart was set on being a Duchess although she’d already worked out there was one thing my brother wasn’t going to be able to give her and that, she told me, was where I came in. She’d marry the Marquis and become a Duchess one day and we’d continue our affair and my son would be the next heir.

  ‘St. Rock abhor
red women, but agreed to the marriage for appearances’ sake. Arthur didn’t come home much after the wedding either. Probably for the same reason I requested Papa to buy me a commission. Neither of us was prepared to sire the next heir on Veronica.’

  A pair of swans flew overhead, honking as they glided in to land on the Serpentine.

  ‘She seduced me, body and soul, then married the heir to the dukedom who was never going to stick his—’ He stopped, clamped his jaw tight for a moment. ‘— was never going to sire a child on any woman. Now I have the title, the estates, the wealth. If she’d waited a few years she’d have had all she’d wanted—with me, a randy young fool, in her bed!—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking to you like this. It’s—she’s—indecent and I’m appalled at how little discernment I had as a young man.

  ‘I seem to have a penchant for giving my heart foolishly and hopelessly. I no longer have a heart to offer. I got over Veronica, a long time ago while she, apparently, has hopes that the fool still exists. And I can promise I’ll never act on what I feel for Jassie. She belongs to Windermere. I’d be asking you to share my life, the prestige and wealth that is Wolverton—and to be the mother of my children. I had a good childhood with parents who loved me and each other. As did you. I thought to provide that for our children. What I have to offer you may fall a little short of your ideal, but I have a deep respect for you, Sheri. I believe I’d be doing right by the next Duke of Wolverton in giving him you as his mother.’

  They’d stopped walking and faced one another in the shadow of the tree where they’d left their horses. He’d taken possession of her hands and their gazes were meshed and Sheri was powerless to look away or to answer him. She was a mess of longing, wishing, anger and bitterness. Here was everything she’d ever wanted—everything but his heart. Her breathing shallowed, her chest ached unbearably yet she couldn’t tear her gaze from his.

  ‘Perhaps we should try this,’ he murmured, raising his hands to her face and lowering his head. Sheri thought her heart would burst, then suddenly he drew back, ripped off his gloves and tossed them to the grass with his hat.

  She shouldn’t allow it, but lacked the will to deny herself that which she’d wanted for so long. Even when he removed her hat and dropped it down on his she made no protest.

  His hands came to her shoulders, grazed lightly up her neck to cup her face. The smooth warmth of his palms against her skin was shocking. The woodsy scent of his cologne surrounded her, his nostrils flared a little and his eyes were mysterious pools of green. His head was lowering once again, and needing something to steady her, she clasped his broad shoulders. Her body quickly over-rode any tendency her mind might have towards primness.

  She couldn’t breathe for fear he’d stop; for fear he wouldn’t. Sliding her hands into the dark silk of his hair, she wished she’d taken off her gloves as well. Then his mouth was over hers, shutting down her mind.

  Opening to him helplessly, she gave him full access to her mouth, accepted the intimate dance of his tongue, offered her own and begged for more. Small guttural sounds erupted from the back of her throat and as he deepened the kiss, they became moans of need so powerful she rose to her tiptoes to be closer. Her breasts, pressed hard against his chest, were swollen and sensitive and the hidden place between her thighs ached, hungered—

  She tried to pull back, regain her senses.

  ‘Dom—dear God!—Oh—’

  His dark head lifted a fraction, surprise and a dark satisfaction glowing in his eyes.

  ‘That succeeded better than I imagined it would! I think the Heavenly Iceberg is a fraud!’ he murmured a little hoarsely.

  Her cheeks flamed and Sheri raised her hands to cover them. Pulling them away, Dom clasped them between his much larger ones against his chest.

  ‘Don’t be shy about this. It’s a good thing. And I’m going to do it a—’

  ‘We should return,’ Sheri blurted, then blushed. She sounded so naive.

  With a bland expression he considered her, then slowly retrieved their hats and his gloves.

  ‘I’ll not apologize, Sher,’ he said. ‘We needed to know we could respond to one another and I’d say that was a definite yes.’

  She couldn’t deny it. Heat flooded her cheeks again as he settled her hat back on her head and assisted her to mount.

  ‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ he commanded, as they turned for home.

  ‘You won’t like it,’ she said, unable, quite, to keep defiance from her voice.

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘Very well. How can you make—love—so sincerely to one woman—when you love another?’

  Surveying the roadway ahead, his profile was a study in complexity, but when he turned to face her again there was no hint of his thoughts, just a bland, almost vague, smile and he shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘I’m a man.’

  He was that! Sheri fixed her gaze straight ahead and knew she faced the hardest decision of her life.

  As they rode back down Upper Brook Street, he said, ‘'A School for Scandal’ is playing at Covent Garden this evening. I’ll pick you up at eight—if that suits you,’ he added, as if he realized he’d practically issued an order.

  She twitched her nose at him in an effort to lighten the mood, and nodded. Whatever else she’d intended doing tonight would have to be cancelled.

  Carter met them in the street and helped his mistress dismount.

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace,’ she said and walked up the steps.

  Facing him over the breakfast table was not something she could contemplate with her mind such a maze of rabid longing—and terror.

  Chapter 3

  Augusta had come down for breakfast, a rare occurrence.

  ‘Why didn’t you bring Dom in?’ she asked, a faint edge to her voice.

  Sheri sat down across the table from her mother.

  ‘You knew what he wanted to talk about, didn’t you? You’re all on edge.’

  ‘Of course,’ Augusta readily agreed. ‘Dominic’s a gentleman in every sense of the word. He’d never have spoken to you of marriage without first informing me of his intention.’

  ‘I’m twenty-three!’

  Completely ignoring Sheri’s outburst, she said, ‘Don’t tell me you turned him away! Is that why he didn’t come in?’

  The edge in Augusta’s voice had sharpened to a tone Sheri hadn’t heard before.

  ‘He didn’t come in—because I didn’t invite him! We’re to attend the theatre tonight. We’re—courting.’

  ‘Courting?’ Augusta almost spat. ‘You’ve known each other all your lives! And he’s everything—everything—you could ever want in a husband.’

  ‘I know that, Mama! But—how can I marry him when he still loves Jassie? And—how can I refuse him when she’s hurt him so badly already?’

  ‘You’ll not refuse him. Of all the husbands you might take in a marriage of convenience, Dominic Beresford would be the easiest to take to your bed—if that is what stalls you!’

  It might have been better to have stayed in her room this morning!

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Sheri finally blurted in desperation. ‘Marriage to Dom wouldn’t be just a marriage of convenience—for me.’

  ‘All the more reason to say ‘yes’, then!’ Augusta snapped, as if the statement had been no surprise to her anyway. Sheri began to wonder who this woman was sitting across the table from her, ambushing her, pressuring her—as she never had before.

  ‘Don’t push me, Mama! I didn’t want to come to London and I’ve been thinking of removing to Springwoods every day this last week.’

  Augusta’s usually serene blue eyes began to simmer and a hectic flush washed her cheekbones. Rarely having seen her mother anything but serene, Sheri was unprepared for the transformation. The flush became a mottled purple and the blue eyes began to darken and blaze.

  And when she spoke, the words were forced through gritted teeth and lips completely bloodless.

  ‘Robert always
said I was too lenient with you and one day I’d come to regret it. You should be married by now! I shouldn’t still have to worry what will become of you. I should have grandchildren to delight in, a man whose protection extends to me—because I’m your mother. I never wanted to force choices onto you—but what can I do?’

  Augusta came abruptly to her feet.

  ‘Mama?’ Sheri whispered, her voice ragged with horror.

  Augusta leant across the table towards her.

  ‘There has never been a better offer open to you, Sherida, and you be very sure before you turn it down!’

  With the first ultimatum she’d ever handed to her daughter still echoing in the silence of the breakfast room, she stormed towards the door.

  ‘Mama!’ Sheri cried. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘No! I’m not. I’m angry!’

  The door slammed behind her and Sheri sank back into her chair, at a total loss as to what to think or do. Mama had sounded—desperate. Not like Mama at all. She really wished she’d gone to Springwoods straight after returning from Windermere Abbey.

  Like a wounded animal seeking its den, she climbed the stairs to her room where Maggie had a bath waiting for her. She submitted to the deft hands of her maid divesting her of her riding habit.

  ‘I can manage now, thanks Maggie. I’ll ring if I need you.’

  ‘Yes, m’Lady. I’ll just brush and hang this.—Are you all right, m’Lady?’

  She managed a wan smile for the woman who was more like an older sister than a servant.

  ‘Thanks Maggie. I just—need time to think.’

  As the door closed behind her Sheri stripped off her under-things and sank into the bath, allowing the warmth of the water to soothe the nerves leaping all through her body.