A Duke Will Never Do

by Burke, Darcy

  “You wouldn’t have to tell them any of your secrets,” Jane said soothingly.

  No, he wouldn’t. “But the moment I involve Bow Street, the extortionist may expose me.”

  “How would they know?”

  If it was the Vicar, he’d know. And right now, Anthony had to believe it was.

  “You do know who this is,” she said softly, flattening her hands against his chest. “You’re hiding their identity.”

  He put his hands over hers and looked into her eyes. “No. I don’t know who it is for certain, but the only person I can think it would be is the man I borrowed from to pay my debts.”

  “The Vicar?” She remembered his name.

  Anthony nodded, anguish sweeping through him when he thought of how much damage this man had caused. And, because of the first note, Anthony had given him more money than was owed and was contemplating paying him even more.

  “You must go to Bow Street,” she said with certainty. “You can’t allow this criminal—this murderer—to extort you. Why didn’t you go to Bow Street after he killed your parents?”

  Anthony took her hands from his chest and stepped back from her, self-revulsion coursing through him. “I wanted to, but the man who did it threatened my sister. Then he was arrested and hanged. It wasn’t the justice I wanted, but at least the man who committed the crime was punished.”

  “What justice do you want?”

  He stared at her, realizing he didn’t know. Did he want the Vicar to hang? Yes. But that still wasn’t justice. “I should be punished.”

  Her lips parted, and she lifted her hand to her mouth. The tears in her eyes gutted him. He turned away, unable to bear her pain in addition to his own. He was such a coward.

  And then she was in front of him, her chin jutting and her eyes sparking. “Stop this. You do not need to be punished. I think you’ve done quite enough of that. Tomorrow, you’re going to visit Bow Street and let them handle this.”

  “What if they can’t?” he whispered, his voice ragged. “What if everyone finds out what I’ve done?”

  “They won’t,” she insisted, cupping his face. “They won’t. I told you we’d work through this together, we’d move forward together.” She stood on her toes and kissed him, her lips soft and urgent against his.

  He wrapped his arms around her and swept her against his chest, desperate for the solace of her embrace. She caressed his face and slid her hands back through his hair.

  Her gloves were smooth against him, but he wanted her flesh. He wanted all of her.

  Lifting his head, he looked down at her with abject need. “I want to take you upstairs. To my bed.”

  “A proper shagging at last?”

  The humor in her tone unfurled the tightness in his chest. He’d never been more grateful for another human being. Clasping her hand, he led her from the study and through a door that led to the narrow servant stairs. He hurried up two flights, and they were both breathless when they reached the landing. He guided her along a corridor to a door at the end.

  Opening the door, he swept her into his dressing chamber and then into his bedroom.

  “Oh, that was a neat trick,” she said, looking around as she removed her gloves.

  Eager to have her naked beneath him, he cupped her face and kissed her, then moved his hands down to untie her bonnet, which he then sailed across the room.

  He pulled his coat off and tossed it toward a chair, missing it spectacularly, then focused on disrobing her. He turned her around and unlaced her gown, pulling perhaps a bit too savagely at the ties in his impatience.

  Once they had the gown off, he took more care with it than he had his coat, laying it gently over the chair. When he turned back, he saw that she’d already stepped out of her petticoat and draped it over another chair. Then she sat down and unlaced her boots, her gaze finding his intermittently as she worked.

  Anthony removed his boots and unbuttoned his waistcoat. His body thrummed with desire and anticipation. It was not their first time together, yet something felt different. Perhaps it was the presence of a bed at long last.

  She began to remove her stockings, but he rushed to kneel before her, taking over the task. He unfastened her garters, then peeled each stocking from her leg, his fingers caressing each new inch of flesh he exposed. When he was finished, he brought his hands up over her knees, skimming them along her thighs and beneath her shift.

  Ducking her head, she kissed him as she untied his cravat. Then her hands were against his neck as she drove her tongue deep into his mouth. He clutched her hips and moved between her legs.

  He reached up behind her and unlaced her corset. When it was loose, she pushed it down and rose up off the chair so he could pull the corset from her body. And then there was just the shift. The curves of her breasts were clearly visible beneath the thin white lawn, as was the dusky pink of her nipples. He leaned forward and tongued her through the fabric, drawing a cry from her.

  She clutched his head and whispered his name. Overcome, he rested his forehead against her and pulled in a shaky breath.

  Pressing on him, she urged him to stand and rose with him. Then she took his hand and led him to the bed, where she pulled her shift over her head and let it drop to the floor. She stood nude before him. He was speechless as he took in her form—from the alabaster slope of her neck and shoulder to the rose-hued peaks of her breasts to the curve of her slender hip to the bevy of golden curls between her thighs.

  Anthony would never believe he’d deserve this—her—but he’d always be grateful. “You are beautiful,” he breathed.

  “You make me feel that way,” she said, pulling his shirt from his waistband.

  He took off his waistcoat and quickly divested himself of the remainder of his clothes. She traced her fingers over his chest, then flattened her palms against him. “You’re beautiful too.”

  “There is no comparison.” He reached behind her and pulled back the coverlet, then swept her up and laid her on the bedclothes.

  He climbed in next to her and drew her into his arms, content to just hold her, skin to skin, her heart beating against his. He kissed her temple, her cheek, her jaw.

  She nuzzled him, her lips gliding over his neck, her tongue licking along his flesh. He shivered, in awe at the power she had over him. He was utterly at her mercy, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

  Rolling her to her back, he rose up on his elbow and kissed her. He trailed his hand over her shoulder, down to her breast, cupping her and teasing her nipple until she arched up off the bed and moaned into his mouth. Sliding farther down, he stroked her abdomen and then her hip. She twitched, opening her legs as he skimmed over her thigh and found her sex.

  She was already wet for him, her body welcoming him as he pushed one finger into her and used another on her clitoris. His cock, heavy against her leg, throbbed with need.

  Her hand encircled him, stroking him from base to tip. He groaned and moved over her, settling between her legs.

  She clasped his neck, and he pulled back so he could look down at her. Perhaps sensing him watching her, she opened her eyes. The emotion in her gaze stole his breath.

  With her help, he guided his cock to her entrance. He hesitated the barest moment before sliding inside. Her heat enveloped him, making him gasp.

  She grasped his hip and widened her legs as he thrust fully inside her. He brushed his hand over her temple, holding her gaze as he withdrew and drove into her again. He went slowly, precisely, cherishing every motion, every breath.

  Her body rolled with his, arching and dipping, moving in concert. He barely thought. He just felt. Currents of desire, of pleasure, of the sweetest passion he’d ever known flowed between them. The broken pieces inside him felt as if they might knit together. It seemed repair—redemption—was perhaps in reach.

  She brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him more deeply inside her. Her eyes widened as she cried out. “Oh yes.” Then her eyes closed,
breaking the connection they’d shared. But then a new one was forged as she began to move faster beneath him.

  His body reacted, thrusting into her with greater speed and depth. She gasped over and over, and her muscles tightened around him.

  “Please, Anthony. Yes.” She spoke to him, urging him with words, and with her body too, her hands clutching at him as her heels dug into his backside.

  Then she began to spasm around him, her body shuddering as she came. He’d never felt anything so potent, so magnificent. His orgasm rushed over him, and he felt wetness on his cheeks as he cried her name over and over.

  They rode the storm together, their bodies entwined. He collapsed against her, his breath coming hard and fast. She kissed his jaw, his cheek, murmuring nonsensical words, at least words he couldn’t comprehend in his current state.

  He realized, far too late, what he’d done. He muttered a curse and rolled to his side, leaving her body.

  “That reaction wasn’t what I expected,” she murmured. “I thought that was rather spectacular.”

  He wiped his hand over his face, the bliss and contentment he’d known disappearing beneath the weight of his blunder. “I came inside you.”

  “Oh. I suppose you did.” She rolled to her side to face him. “Well, what’s done is done.”

  “Please don’t tell me we need to forget this along with everything else we don’t like that’s happened in our pasts?”

  She laughed, surprising him. “Goodness, no. I’ll remember this day for the rest of my life. And, no matter what happens, I’ll never regret a moment of it.” She reached over and put her hand on his cheek, turning his face so that he had to look at her. “Not one moment.”

  He hoped that would always be true and would pray there wasn’t a child. The emotion of the day had drained him. Or maybe it was because he’d just experienced the best sexual encounter of his life. Whatever the reason, he didn’t want to dwell on the negative.

  He tucked a blonde curl that had come loose behind her ear. “You never told me why you needed to see me.”

  Skimming his jaw, she brought her hand down to his collarbone. “I didn’t, did I? We were distracted. My sister came to visit me today—I invited her.”

  “Your parents didn’t accompany her?”

  She shook her head. “My mother enlisted a friend of hers to act as chaperone.”

  Anthony wanted to yell at her mother. She had a lovely daughter in Jane, and someday, she’d regret the way she was treating her. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” She traced circles on his shoulder with her fingertips. “I wasn’t expecting them to come.”

  He pulled the bedclothes up over them. “You weren’t upset?” She’d seemed that way when she’d arrived—she’d followed Purcell to his study.

  “Not about that.” Her hand stilled. “After talking to Anne, I think… I think she feels she has to marry. Because of me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Her debut was delayed because I hadn’t wed. Then this year, they decided it was time—past time, really—for Anne to have her first Season. They’ve compared it endlessly to my first Season, which was a disaster. I can well imagine the pressure they’ve put on Anne to be what I could not.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “A success.”

  The hurt in her voice pierced straight to his heart. He put his arms around her and drew her close, kissing her temple. She exhaled against his neck. “It’s my fault that she feels she must marry, and I’m not entirely convinced she’s happy.”

  “Jane, you mustn’t feel guilty.”

  She tipped her head back and looked at him. “That’s a bit rich coming from you,” she said archly.

  “You’re right. You may feel guilty if you wish, but don’t do so for long. It will ravage you inside.” His chest tightened again, and the broken pieces faltered. Healing, he realized, was going to take time. He only hoped he could get there—someday.

  She laid her palm against his cheek. “Yes, it will. I’ll find a way to move forward, and so will you. Starting with going to Bow Street tomorrow. Will you go?”

  “I will.” But he planned to visit the Vicar first. Jane was right about one thing—it was past time to bury all this, and he couldn’t do that if the Vicar kept dredging it up.

  Anthony would stop him—once and for all.

  Chapter 13

  “Lady Ripley,” Culpepper announced as Phoebe walked into the garden room.

  It was strange to see her here as a guest, and Jane wondered if she’d ever get over that. “Phoebe, please pardon me if I don’t get up. I wasn’t expecting you this soon.” Jane gestured to the two sleeping kittens in her lap.

  Phoebe smiled as she pulled off her gloves and hat and handed them to Culpepper. “Thank you,” she said, flicking him a glance before she walked to Jane. She stroked Daffodil’s head, waking the kitten, who responded with a massive yawn. “They are so cute.”

  Daffodil started to purr loudly, and Fern stirred. Stretching, she thrust her head against Phoebe’s hand, wanting her attention too.

  “Aww.” Phoebe picked Fern up and kissed her head. “I may need a kitten. I wonder if Marcus will mind.”

  “As if he would deprive you of anything.”

  “My apologies for arriving early,” Phoebe said, taking the other chair and setting Fern on her lap. She petted the kitten’s head and ears. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I’m glad for the chance to catch up before the others arrive.” It would be a larger group since Lady Satterfield was also joining them, and she was bringing her stepdaughter-in-law, the Duchess of Kendal.

  Jane was humbled that both of them would visit her. She wondered if it would help her reputation. More accurately, she wondered if her parents would take note and be less disappointed in her. Damn, when would she stop seeking their approval?

  “Yes, tell me how you’re enjoying being a self-declared spinster. Is it everything you hoped for?”

  Jane wasn’t sure what she’d hoped for. Freedom, she supposed. And she certainly had that given that she’d secreted her way into Anthony’s house yesterday. Not to mention the fact that he’d stayed here for an entire week without anyone knowing. She suddenly felt very bad about keeping all that from Phoebe.

  “When you came back to London and moved into this house, how did you see your future?” Jane asked.

  Phoebe inhaled as she settled back against the chair. “I was glad to be free of others’ expectations and judgment. After Sainsbury,” she shuddered at the mention of her former betrothed, “I was glad to be alone.”

  Jane understood that. Sainsbury had treated her horribly, and she’d narrowly avoided marriage to him. “I thought I would be glad to be alone too—and I definitely don’t miss my parents’ expectations and judgment.”

  “I’m sensing there’s more. Perhaps a however?” Phoebe knew her so well.

  “I’m afraid I’m not that happy being alone. I find myself thinking about marriage—about missing out on a union. Maybe it’s from seeing you so happy. And Arabella.”

  “And soon Anne will be wed too,” Phoebe said softly. She gave Jane a sympathetic look.

  That was true. Even Jane’s sister would be married.

  “I can see why you’d feel alone. I’m so sorry, Jane.”

  “But I’m not actually,” Jane whispered.

  Phoebe’s eyes widened. “You’re not?”

  Jane shook her head. “I can’t tell you everything.” She wouldn’t disclose Anthony’s fight or him staying here since he’d asked her not to. “But Anthony and I… Well, Anthony and I.” She left it at that.

  Phoebe sat forward, disrupting Fern, who jumped down from her lap. Daffodil did the same, leaping from Jane to chase her sister.

  “You can’t just say that and nothing else. Anthony and you what?” Phoebe demanded.

  Jane laughed. It came out with a bit of a giggle quality, and Phoebe narrowed her eyes as she pinned J
ane with an insistent stare. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

  “Yes.” Jane took a deep breath. “We’ve become close.”

  “When? How?” Phoebe’s eyes danced with delight. “Tell me everything. Wait, you said you couldn’t.” She exhaled with disappointment. “Tell me what you can.” She cocked her head to the side. “While you’re at it, tell me why you can’t tell me everything.”

  “Because Anthony asked me not to, and I will respect his wishes. We’ve become good friends.” She believed that to be true and hoped he saw them that way too. “I can’t say how, exactly, but we’ve spent a great deal of time together.”

  “At Brixton Park?” Phoebe asked.

  “Yes.”

  Phoebe’s brow puckered. “But you’re just friends?”

  “Friends with some…extra bits?” Jane’s voice rose at the end.

  Phoebe blinked, stifling a smile. “Oh. Can I hope you’ve finally been kissed?”

  “Ah, yes. Rest assured, I have become rather, ah, accomplished.”

  “I see. I will also rest assured that you are being careful. Anthony is quite the rakehell these days.” Her features darkened briefly. “Marcus worries about him.”

  “I can understand that. To be honest, I worry about him too.” But then they shared a day like yesterday, and she could see that he was healing. “However, I think our relationship is helping him. Finally.”

  “Truly?” Phoebe’s face brightened. “I’m so happy. For both of you. Do you think this will lead to marriage?”

  Anthony’s promise to her—that he wouldn’t fall in love with her and they wouldn’t marry—vaulted to the front of her mind. She swallowed, not ready to think of an end to what they shared. “I don’t have any reason to believe it will, no.”

  Phoebe scooted forward in her chair. “Jane. I don’t know what to say. Do you want to marry him?”

  “I don’t know.” She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it. “I’m just enjoying each day for now. Maybe when he’s fully healed…” If that day ever came. She prayed it would, but there was still so much darkness inside him.

  “He’d be foolish to let you slip away,” Phoebe said with an edge of disgust.