The Perfect Duchess

by Jen YatesNZ

  The Master—cuckolded.

  Steady, he commanded himself, black fury rising in his breast. He eased the grip of his hand over Sheri’s where it lay on his arm. He should borrow some of her cool serenity—and remember purity, honesty and integrity were what made Sheri perfect for his duchess.

  ‘Wolverton!’

  The Earl of Briersley waved from beside the staircase where he and Bella waited out of the crush. Dom forged a path to the foot of the stairs. His little sister was stunning in an emerald silk gown the color of her eyes, trimmed with black ribbon and lace to match her hair. She’d borne Briersley four daughters yet still maintained her elegant figure. Blessed with the Beresford height and coloring she’d always be a commanding presence. He kissed her cheek then stepped back to nod to his brother-in-law over the women’s heads as they greeted one another. Though Bella was a few years older than Sheri they knew one another well and his sister had a great respect for Sheri’s expertise with horses. She was bursting with questions as he’d shared with her how important this evening was, but she was as unaffected and chatty with Sheri as she always was.

  Nevertheless, she’d left him in no doubt as to her approval of the match and her opinion of him should he not manage to convince Sheri in his favor.

  With a hand at Sheri’s waist, he guided her up the stairs, through the crush, calmly acknowledging friends and acquaintances.

  Closing the door of the box behind them, he ushered Sheri to a chair at the front beside his sister, he and Briersley settling in chairs to either side. It amused him to watch Bella hunting for her opera glasses in the depths of her reticule and Briersley being forced to hold all manner of female fripperies until she found what she sought. Then the whole was tumbled back into the elegant but capacious silken hold-all and dumped on Briersley’s lap so Bella could lean forward to scan the crowds below.

  In stark contrast, Sheri settled easily into her chair, shared a secret little smile with him at Bella’s fussing and Briersley’s long-suffering but besotted gaze as it rested on his wife, then calmly produced a pair of ivory-mounted opera glasses from her own reticule and let them rest in her lap. She appeared unmoved that many eyes noted her presence in the Wolverton box, apparently as the Duke’s partner for the evening, and were speculating behind their fans as to what that might mean. Her serenity was a restful antidote to Bella’s excitement.

  Dom allowed his hand to fall along the back of Sheri’s chair while his sister pointed out the Countess Rigauld, Mrs. Hayes-Gregory, Lady Cowper and a party of gentlemen that didn’t seem to include any of the husband’s of any one of the elegant ladies.

  Then he saw Bax, waving up at them; or more likely at Sheri, damn him! What was he doing here? Not squiring one of that elite set of socialites, surely! His cousin enjoyed playing dangerous games and for high stakes. Doubtless he’d come calling at half time!

  Sheri sat forward in her seat as if aware of his arm at her back and he smiled inwardly, his gaze on her profile. Was the alabaster curve of her cheekbone softened by a wash of color? Once the lights went down in the house there’d be no one to see him touch her shoulder, caress the satiny skin and draw her back into her chair, press his thigh to hers—

  The door opened and bloody Bax breezed in, mercifully alone.

  ‘Trying to steal a march on me, Your Grace?’ he drawled as he drew up a chair and squeezed his large, elegant presence between the women.

  ‘Always, your Lordship,’ Dom growled back, and he was startled at the venom in his voice. He’d never been territorial about a woman—even Jassie. He’d always known where her heart lay.

  Lady Sherida Dearing was different. God damn!

  Bella squealed with delight and moved her chair to accommodate their cousin.

  ‘Bax! Are you joining us? Who knew I was going to the theatre with both my august brother and my wicked cousin? Though perhaps it’s not I you’ve come to see, but Sheri?’

  ‘Perceptive, brat, as always,’ Bax drawled and Bella rapped him on the knuckles with her fan.

  ‘Considering my age that old nickname is seriously inappropriate!’

  ‘Ouch,’ he grinned, his grey eyes gleaming like polished pewter as he raised his knuckles to his mouth. ‘Considering how appropriate that nickname still is, you should probably start acting your age, my lovely Bella. I’m sure Briersley would agree, wouldn’t you old chap?’

  ‘I plead the right to remain silent,’ said that gentleman hastily, leaning back in his chair and raising his hands in surrender—or denial.

  …

  Sheri noted Bax’s smoldering attention was on her—and Dom. With his knuckles still in his mouth, he held her gaze for a moment, glanced briefly at Dom then turned back to sear her with his appraisal.

  Because it was Bax, she almost chuckled and told him to stop play-acting, but realized once again there was an edginess in the atmosphere between the two men. She was more convinced than ever it concerned her. Neither of them had ever been more than pleasantly sociable until now and her aloof smile had been enough in the past to pull Bax into line.

  ‘Good evening, Lord Baxendene,’ she said formally. ‘We didn’t expect to see you here.’

  Slowly removing his knuckles from his mouth, he held her gaze, his eyes filled with devilment. It was easy to see why women succumbed to him.

  ‘Don’t know why you wouldn’t,’ he said, his voice deceptively gentle. ‘I did request permission to call. Did do so, in fact, only to be told you were indisposed. I take it you’re recovered?’

  His eyes glided down her person, deliberately she thought.

  ‘As you see,’ she murmured, injecting a little more ice into her voice. He’d never been slow to take a hint before. Turning her shoulder a little, she leant forward to look out over the crowd below; colorful, constantly moving, sparkling with jewels, overlaid with the chatter of many voices. But it couldn’t dim her awareness a silent dispute waged between the men, in the air behind her head.

  Bax suddenly leaned in again, resting his forearm on the back of her chair.

  ‘I’ve just acquired a new stallion. He’s a handsome palomino. Superb coloring and conformation. You might like to use him at Springwoods. He’d sire some beauties, I think. Ride with me in the morning and you can see him in action.’

  Bax’s arm suddenly slid off the back of the chair—as if it had been pushed.

  ‘Lady Sherida and I are engaged to ride in the morning—every morning, as it happens,’ Dom growled and Sheri sat back in her chair, insinuating her body between the two. They sounded ready to come to blows!

  ‘The show will start directly. Shouldn’t you be getting back to your party?’ Dom growled.

  The lights dimmed. The Duke’s whole body moved a little closer to her left side and his gloved fingers closed lightly about her right shoulder. Which meant his arm was almost enclosing her! It was scandalous, but he had asked her to consider marriage and in order to discover whether that was a path they should travel together Sheri decided it only sensible not to react, not to sit forward, as a proper young lady should.

  In fact, her foolish heart demanded she lean back into his touch, encourage it, enjoy it. She dared a quick sideways glance and a small smile, which he would hardly see in the semi-dark now surrounding them. Dom was glaring at Bax over her head—and Bax’s knee was pressed against hers!

  ‘Your party will think you’ve abandoned them,’ Dom said tightly.

  Bax grinned, his teeth shining white in the darkness, and leaned back in his chair.

  ‘Didn’t really come with a party. Thought I’d enjoy the company of m’family for a change.’

  Sheri was certain his voice was laced with a smiling satisfaction.

  ‘Hush!’ hissed Arabella. ‘It’s starting. I don’t want to miss anything!’

  ‘How can you miss it?’ Bax taunted. ‘You’ve seen this play so many times you must know it by heart!’

  ‘Miss Smith’s playing Lady Teazle. She’s had a good write-up in La Belle Ass
emblée for her performance and I’d like to see—and hear—for myself. Now do be quiet or go and find someone else to annoy!’

  Bax gave his cousin a mock salute, sank indolently in his chair with one boot resting on his knee and fixed his gaze on Sheri’s profile, as if she were the play.

  Dom leaned in close to speak by her ear.

  ‘I apologize for my cousin’s boorish behavior. I’ll get rid of him if you wish.’

  Sheri turned to whisper back, suddenly aware only inches separated their mouths and it was now quite dark in the box.

  ‘It’s all right. I don’t want a scene.’

  ‘All right. But—do you mind my hand on your shoulder?’

  ‘Uh—um—I don’t mind!’

  It was heavenly and her heart was nearly leaping into orbit, but she could scarcely tell him that. She just hoped Mama didn’t ask too many questions about the play later because all her awareness was on the humming tension stretching between the two men—and Dom’s gloved fingers gently caressing the naked skin of her shoulder—and Bax’s white grin gleaming in the darkness.

  At intermission Dom asked if she’d like an ice then sent Bax and Briersley to fetch them. Bax went willingly enough but his grin was wide and knowing and aimed at his cousin.

  Now the lights were on again Dom’s hand was properly back on his own knee and he appeared to have watched the play for he made pithy observations in response to his sister’s animated comments. He was also more relaxed now Bax had left.

  With the return of the gentlemen with the ices and a flurry of other visitors to the box, Dom placed his hand at the back of her chair again, as if staking a claim. The ladies who entered the box were those they’d seen with Lord Baxendene earlier and were escorted by the elegant rake, Lord Roscombe and the slightly older though still handsome roué, Lord Tollington.

  ‘You abandoned us, Lord Bax! Now our party is uneven,’ complained Lady Cowper, tapping his arm with her fan.

  Bax bathed her with his lazy, charming grin.

  ‘I found family in attendance! I haven’t seen—my cousin Bella in an age!’ he said, his grin now resting pointedly on Sheri. ‘I’ll re-join you after the show.’

  Sheri wanted to kick his shin. She’d never given him any reason to think she desired his company. It seemed to be his personal mission to spoil her evening with Dom.

  ‘Well, I wish you’d join your own party,’ Dom said sourly. ‘Dashed shabby of you leaving a lady unescorted.’

  ‘Ah, but the delectable Lady Sheri is here and I can’t keep away!’

  Heat flowed into Sheri’s cheeks and it wasn’t from embarrassment.

  He saw and his eyes danced wickedly and he leant towards her.

  ‘And I can see the thaw is setting in!’ he murmured conspiratorially.

  She wanted to slap him, but turned back to finish the last of her ice. Perhaps it would have a cooling effect on her temper.

  Bax stayed close during the second half and even strolled at her other side as Dom escorted her down the stairs and into the crush in the foyer. He stayed while they farewelled Bella and Briersley then walked across the cobbles with them when Dom’s coach pulled up.

  But it was Dom who handed her up into the coach and as he settled beside her on the seat, he flashed a triumphant—if grim—smile back at his cousin. The Earl stood, brashly handsome under the gaslight, made her an elegant bow and blew a kiss from his fingertips before the footman closed the door at Dom’s growled command.

  Exasperated, Sheri muttered, ‘What’s got into him? He’s behaving quite oddly.’

  ‘He just needs a lesson in manners. Forget him.’

  Just as she thought to retort that such a command was unnecessary he stole her hand from her lap, peeled off her glove and his own, and pressed his lips to each of her fingers in turn. Easing her cloak back off her shoulder he continued kissing up her arm, his lips leaving a trail of tingling heat on her flesh. When he reached her neck, he pressed her hand to his unscarred cheek, trapping it there against his heat and the movement of his jaw under the soft rasp of his clean shaven face.

  She should stop him, but her body simply craved everything he offered. Her head tilted of its own accord, inviting his attention to the silkiness of her throat, the soft skin beneath her ear—Dear God—

  Then his arms slid around her and his mouth was seeking hers, demanding, allowing no withdrawal.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to do this again all day!’ he murmured, nibbling on her bottom lip. ‘This morning was—an experiment ended just as it was getting interesting. Tonight—we won’t be interrupted—at least until we reach Grosvenor Square.’ His tongue delved, found hers, stole her breath, gained her submission.

  By the time they arrived at Grosvenor Square she had such a throb between her legs she was afraid she might not be able to walk.

  Focused only on not stumbling, she allowed him to escort her up the steps and through the door Lomas held for them.

  Still struggling for equilibrium, it was all she could do to whisper, ‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ when he bent low over her still naked hand and seared her fingers with his lips. Handing her the stolen glove, he took his farewell with a final smolder of green eyes over her person.

  When her maid had stripped her of her gown and corset and pulled the pins from her hair, she roused herself enough to say, ‘Thanks Maggie, I can do the rest.’

  Drawing the brush slowly through her hair, she stared at the outline of her mouth in the mirror. That mouth had known Dom’s now, twice.

  Did it look different? Could anyone tell?

  Could she still taste him? She ran her tongue along her upper lip. Just thinking about it made her breathing choppy. Laying aside the brush she stripped off her chemise and turning abruptly away from her naked image in the mirror, drew on the fine linen night rail Maggie had laid out for her. Once between the sheets she snuffed the last candle and snuggled down into her pillows.

  Reaching her hand across the wide expanse of the high four-poster, she allowed herself to imagine how it would be to have Dom lying beside her, naked—

  Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle the small cry of need that erupted. If they were married he’d be free to lie with her, kiss her as he’d done in the carriage—and more. So much more. Her breasts ached and she slid her hands down to cover them. They felt—swollen—and the nipples were hard and—desperate.

  For what? Dear God, she wanted his mouth—there—doing what he’d done to her lips tonight. Nibbling. Suckling. Her body writhed in an agony of wanting and she curled into the fetal position as the futility of it all swelled into a ball of painful emotion in her stomach.

  Allowed the freedom of her bed, he’d also be allowed the freedom of her body. He’d want to look upon her, that much she knew. And yet Mama had said much between men and women took place in the dark. Did she dare? Finally with her hands crossed tightly across her breasts she slept.

  The dream woke her. It was so real. Dom’s dark head bent over her body; her hands in his hair, holding him to her breast; his mouth suckling, deeply, hungrily; her breasts aching, straining for more; her mouth open, crying his name; her body abandoned to him!

  Lifting his head to look down at her, his eyes blazed a deeper green than she’d ever seen them. Then they clouded with confusion as he looked down at the breasts he’d just been suckling, the ugliness reflecting back at her in his eyes, until he reared back in horror. Pain deep in her gut woke her as she faced the likely consequences of what she was contemplating, what she’d promised Mama she’d do. Agony stole the air from her lungs and forced its way out of her mouth with gut-wrenching sobs.

  She’d been right not to risk this if just dreaming of it caused this level of pain. But when she considered turning her back on what Dom was offering, which was almost all she’d craved for so long, the pain simply intensified, leaving her curled once again in a defensive ball of misery.

  Dawn was seeping round the edges of the drapes when she rose and bathed her
face in the chilly water Maggie had left in the ewer for her—and bathed her eyes again and again in an attempt to disguise the puffy evidence of her despair.

  Chapter 4

  Grigg’s sleepy brows rose in surprise when Dom entered the ducal mansion on Bruton Street after delivering Sheri to Grosvenor Square.

  ‘What?’ he asked, grinning down at his butler who, even though he’d probably been asleep in his chair a minute ago, was perfectly groomed in every way.

  ‘It’s been a while, Your Grace.’

  Still puzzled, Dom waited.

  ‘You were whistling, Your Grace!’

  Damn! So lost in the realization he’d left Sheri in a state of high arousal, he’d been unaware he’d succumbed to an old boyhood habit of whistling when life was particularly sweet. It was a long time since he’d been this light of spirit.

  ‘Sorry I disturbed you, Grigg!’

  The butler’s bright blue eyes twinkled up at him.

  ‘No need to apologize, Your Grace. I venture to note, it was a happy sound.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Dom agreed, surprised to realize it was true. ‘You may lock up. I’ll not be going out again this evening.’

  Griggs’s eyebrows danced on his forehead again, but Dom forbore to elucidate. He’d only briefly thought of seeking relief for his own painful arousal at the Matrix Club or with a lady from the demimondaine of Covent Garden, before realizing he had no taste for either. Sheri was the one he wanted in his arms tonight. Certain she’d be his in the not too distant future was setting his blood alight in a manner that astonished him—and there’d be no need for fantasizing.

  Why had he never looked at her this way before? How had he not known what fire they’d generate together? He caught himself whistling again as he entered the study. Pouring a snifter of brandy, he settled in the chair before the fire in the hearth to brood and dream—for all the world like a lovesick fool.