A Duke Will Never Do

by Burke, Darcy

  Chapter 14

  Jane sat in bed and tried to read a book, but after staring at the same page for ten minutes, she closed it and set it on the bedside table. She’d hoped Anthony would come to the garden room door after dinner as he had the other night, but he hadn’t. After waiting up later than usual, she’d finally come up to bed.

  The Spitfire Society meeting had been a success. Lady Gresham had spoken about the Magdalen Hospital for reformed prostitutes, and Lady Satterfield had actually suggested they take a tour! When Jane had voiced her concern about what people would say, Lady Satterfield had waved her hand and said she didn’t care, that helping those who were working to help themselves was an admirable endeavor. They’d all agreed.

  Suddenly, her bedroom door opened, startling her so she gasped.

  Anthony closed the door and moved toward the bed.

  “You’re late,” Jane said, sitting up from the pillows she’d stacked behind her against the headboard for reading.

  “You were expecting me?” he asked, dropping his hat and gloves onto the chair by the hearth.

  “I’d hoped you would come,” she admitted.

  He smiled, but gave her a pointed stare. “Best not to see this as a regular occurrence.”

  “I’m fine with taking turns. I’ll come back to your house next.”

  He finished pulling off his boots, then came around to her side of the bed and kissed her, drawing briefly on her lower lip. “Minx.”

  She glanced down at his stockinged feet. “Did I invite you to disrobe? To stay?”

  “You said you were waiting for me. Were you hoping to play backgammon?” He removed his coat, clearly not believing that she didn’t want him there. Or that she preferred him dressed.

  Jane grinned, then knelt on the bed in front of him to remove his cravat. “Fine. Disrobe. Stay. Do whatever you like.”

  He waggled his brows as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. “Whatever?”

  “Actually, I think it’s time I do whatever I like.” She stripped his neckcloth away and tossed it to the floor, then pushed his waistcoat over his shoulders so that it fell in the same direction.

  “Is that so?” he asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

  She plucked open his breeches and slipped her hand inside to cup his shaft. “Mmm-hmm.” She slid off the bed and pushed him onto the mattress. “Lie down.”

  He arched his brows, but wordlessly complied. He started to remove his stockings, but she moved his hands away. “Put those somewhere else. Over your head, perhaps.”

  Keeping his dark gaze fixed on her, he stretched his arms up over his head and clasped the headboard. “Better?”

  She removed his stockings and tossed them over the end of the bed, then crawled up over him and pulled his breeches down over his hips. His cock bobbed free, arcing out toward her.

  After sending his breeches the same way as his stockings, she braced her hands on his thighs and pushed his legs apart so she could kneel between them.

  “Jane, what it is you plan to do?”

  Taking her finger, she traced it up his thigh and then over to one of his testicles. He drew in a sharp breath. “Jane.”

  “Since you’ve used your mouth to excellent effect, I wondered if I might do the same.” She trailed her finger up over his sac and then along the underside of his cock. His flesh twitched as she reached the head, then she pushed back the foreskin and watched as moisture coated the tip.

  Leaning down, she licked him, surprised at how salty he tasted. “Do you mind?” she asked, looking up his abdomen.

  His head was elevated on the pillows she’d stacked. He gazed down at her, his cobalt eyes slitted with desire. “Never. Put me in your mouth and do what you do with your hand, only with your lips and tongue. The deeper you take me, the better it will feel.”

  Jane’s sex throbbed in response. She’d never imagined being so aroused by just talking about what she could do to him. She credited the dark, seductive timbre of his voice and the haze of sexual anticipation he exuded. His hips moved, rising slightly off the mattress in silent plea.

  Licking the tip again, she kept eye contact as she swirled her tongue over and around him. He groaned and grabbed her plait, urging her head down. She tore her gaze from his and sucked him into her mouth, sliding his cock along her tongue, taking him deeper and deeper until he nearly touched her throat.

  Afraid she might gag, she released him, slowly, using her tongue along him and closing her lips tightly around his flesh. She didn’t release him entirely, but took him in again, feeling more confident. Over and over, she sucked him, curling her hand around the root of his shaft to gain more control. Yes, this was better.

  “Move your hand too. Up with your mouth.” His words inflamed her, and she did as he described, following her lips with her hand as she traversed her way back to the tip. Then she took him in once more, no longer afraid of discomfort. She moved faster, finding a rhythm with her tongue and hand. His hips urged her on, moving in time with her.

  He tugged on her plait as he arched up into her mouth. “Jane, I’m going to come.” The words were an animalistic growl. She’d reduced him to a beast. Feminine pride burst inside her.

  She knew what that meant, of course, and what would happen. Sliding up his cock, she held him while she took her mouth away briefly. “Then come.”

  She dove down on him, moving at a frenzied pace now as she recalled how fast he moved his fingers on and in her when he brought her to orgasm. He moved with her, crying out as his cock tensed and his seed shot into her mouth.

  Unsure of what to do, Jane swallowed until there was nothing left. Then she pulled away and sat back, gingerly wiping her mouth.

  Anthony opened his eyes and stared at her. “Good God.”

  Jane froze, horrified. “Was that bad?”

  “Uh, no. Not ever. That was one of the best sexual experiences of my life.”

  Relief poured through her, along with that female pride again. “Only one of the best?”

  “I can’t elevate it above the gift of your virginity or, honestly, yesterday.”

  At his house when they’d finally had a bed beneath them. Twice, they’d coupled, and both had been intensely wonderful. Emotional, even.

  She knew with sudden clarity and terrifying fear that she was in love with him. She climbed over his leg and went to pour herself a glass of water on the other side of the room.

  The bed creaked, and she heard him pad across the carpet, sensing precisely when he stood behind her. She took a drink of water before turning to face him.

  “Jane, is everything all right?” He looked at her with grave concern. “Should I have stopped you from—”

  “No.” He was worried about her reaction to what they’d just done. “I just wanted a drink, that’s all. You’re rather salty.”

  He chuckled. “So I’ve heard.”

  She thought of where he may have heard that—other women who’d done that to him—and the jealousy burning inside her made her take another drink of water. Feeling foolish, she set the glass down next to the ewer.

  “Jane, that was a jest.” Had he read her mind? “Come back to bed so I can return the favor,” he said with a smile.

  She blinked at him. “It wasn’t a favor, Anthony. I don’t expect anything in return.” Except maybe she did. If she didn’t expect it, she certainly wanted it—his love. But he’d been very clear that wasn’t an option. Wanting his love was madness. It was also incredibly painful.

  He took her hand and stroked his thumb along her wrist. “I know you don’t expect anything. That’s why this affair is so perfect.” His words carved a hole into her chest.

  He shook his head. “I almost forgot to tell you—because I was incredibly distracted the moment I arrived. Your beauty takes my breath away.” He tucked a curl behind her ear and kissed her.

  She pulled back. “What did you want to tell me?”

  “See? I was distracted again. I know who was trying to extort me.”
>
  Jane was surprised he’d been diverted from that important revelation. “You went to Bow Street?”

  “No, but I will in the morning. I just received a note tonight about the extortionist. It’s the man who sent me to the Vicar for money in the first place. I never imagined he would extort me because he has no need of money. Plus, I thought we were friends.” His jaw tightened. “I was mistaken.”

  “That’s awful. Why did he do it if he didn’t need money?”

  “Apparently, he is in need of funds—to buy a new house.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s a greedy blackguard, which is maybe worse than if he’d actually needed the money.”

  Jane scoffed. “It’s all terrible. Who is this miscreant?”

  “Gilbert Chamberlain. I knew him at Oxford. As I said, we’ve been friends.”

  Everything seemed to stop, including Jane’s heart for a moment. “Gilbert Chamberlain?” Her voice sounded as if it were coming from very far away.

  “Yes, do you know him?”

  “He’s marrying my sister.”

  “Bloody hell,” Anthony breathed.

  “We have to stop the wedding.”

  “When is it?”

  “The day after tomorrow.” Jane walked past him, going to the bed where she grasped the bedpost. “I’ll go see Anne and my parents in the morning.” The thought of seeing her mother and father, especially to tell them the wedding they’d been dreaming of for years couldn’t happen filled her with dread.

  “What will you say?”

  Jane turned, dropping her hand to her side. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. What would she tell them? That Anne’s betrothed was an extortionist, and she knew this because her lover was currently being extorted by him?

  Anthony went to pick up his shirt and pulled it over his head. Then he came to stand in front of her. “Don’t tell them anything. Let Bow Street handle it, and the wedding won’t happen.”

  Jane exhaled, then nodded. “I should still go and tell Anne. I can be vague. I don’t need to give her the specifics.” That the man Chamberlain was extorting was Anthony or that he was her lover. She looked up at Anthony. “How did you find out it was Chamberlain? You said you received a note. It wasn’t from Bow Street?” How could it be when he said he hadn’t gone to see them?

  “I paid a visit to the Vicar today. He offered to find the extortionist, and he did so in an amazingly short time. He seems to know everything.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Wasn’t the Vicar a criminal? Or at least unsavory? “Is this really a man you can trust?”

  “Normally, I would say no, but in this case, I think I can.” He turned away from her and went to pick up his breeches, but didn’t put them on.

  “Why? I can’t believe you would trust him after what he did.”

  “Murder my parents, you mean?” He said the words with only the barest inflection. Maybe he truly was healing. “He wasn’t responsible. The man who did it was only supposed to threaten them—not even them, actually, but me. I was meant to be on the road to Oaklands.”

  Jane still wasn’t sure if she’d trust such a man, but then why would he lie? “You’re certain the Vicar isn’t behind all this and trying to blame my sister’s betrothed?”

  “I am. The Vicar insists he is a businessman, and that he’s not in the business of taking money for nothing. He makes loans, and he collects them. To him, extortion is not an honorable transaction.”

  Jane snorted softly. “He spoke to you about honor?”

  Anthony stared at her a moment. “Do you just not want to believe that Chamberlain is the culprit? That your sister would betroth herself to such a man?”

  Jane realized that was part of it—surely Anne would have known better. But then she thought of Phoebe, who’d become betrothed to someone terrible and had luckily discovered that before it was too late and they were wed. Jane couldn’t let that happen to Anne, even if there was a chance none of this was true.

  “I suppose I think it would be easier for everyone if it wasn’t Chamberlain.”

  “Life is seldom easy,” he said with a chill as he drew on his breeches.

  “I know.” She hated that he was growing upset. Moving around the bed, she touched his arm. “If you believe Chamberlain did this, I trust in you.”

  He paused in buttoning his fall and cupped her cheek. “Thank you.”

  “You’re leaving?” she asked, watching him tuck the hem of his shirt into his breeches.

  “Not quite yet, but soon. I want to be at Bow Street early. I’ll come by as soon as I know anything.”

  “Please do.”

  He moved closer, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her against him. “Now, I believe it’s my turn to pleasure you. If you’d like.” He dipped his head and kissed her cheek and jawline. He sucked her flesh, then nipped her gently. “Or I could go—”

  Desire sparked in her core, and she put her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his flesh. “Don’t. Stay. Please.” She looked up at him with naked need, wondering if he could see the love simmering inside her, begging to be shared and acknowledged.

  “Nothing would make me happier.” He kissed her then, his lips moving softly over hers before he cupped her backside and opened his mouth to devour her.

  Jane moaned, reveling in his every touch and hoping that what he said was true—that nothing made him happier than being with her. And if it was, could she hope that someday he might love her in return?

  * * *

  Upon arriving at Bow Street the following morning, Anthony was shown to a small office to await the arrival of Harry Sheffield. Anthony had asked to speak with him since he was a good friend of Marcus’s.

  A few minutes later, Sheffield came in, closing the door behind him. Broad shouldered with a head of thick auburn hair, Sheffield’s presence overtook the room. Anthony could see why the man had chosen to be a Runner. He likely intimidated every criminal he pursued.

  Good, because Chamberlain deserved nothing less and likely far more.

  Sheffield offered his hand to Anthony. “Good morning, my lord.”

  Anthony shook the man’s hand. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  “Sit, please.” Sheffield gestured to a chair, then sat down at the desk. “How can I help?”

  “I’ve come to report a crime against me. Extortion.”

  Creases cut through Sheffield’s wide forehead. “Let us start with what proof you have. Presumably there was a letter?”

  Anthony pulled the folded pieces of parchment from his coat and set them on the desk before the Runner. “Two, in fact.”

  “I take it he wrote again after you failed to reply to the first?”

  “Actually, I paid him the first time.”

  Sheffield brought the parchment closer and unfolded both sheets without looking down. “It sounds as if you might know who this is.”

  “Gilbert Chamberlain. You must arrest him with haste. He’s due to marry tomorrow, and that cannot happen.” Anthony gestured toward the letters. “In addition, as you can see, he’s demanded payment before this evening.”

  Sheffield blinked. “Hmm, that does appear to be a reason for urgency. But I think all crimes deserve urgent attention.” He gave Anthony a placid smile, then looked down at the letters.

  Anthony tensed. “I would prefer not to share those letters with anyone else.”

  “Mmm, I can see why.” Sheffield took another moment before looking up. “Perhaps you should explain the gambling debts and the murder of your parents,” he said softly, his voice carrying an edge of steel.

  Swallowing, Anthony worked to calm the apprehension racing through him. “I accumulated a rather large sum of debt more than a year ago. I wasn’t able to repay them and had to borrow money.”

  “Your father wouldn’t give you the funds?”

  Anthony shook his head and tried to tamp down the shame burning inside him. “He also wouldn’t give me money when I
continued to lose and was then unable to pay the lender.”

  Sheffield’s jaw clenched briefly, and his eyes narrowed for a moment. He flattened his palms on the desk. “I seem to recall your parents were killed by a highwayman, and the highwayman was hanged. Why does Chamberlain think you are a murderer?”

  “Because the highwayman was sent to attack me, not them. If not for my failure to repay the loan, they would still be alive.” Dammit. He thought he’d been making progress, but the familiar anguish tore at him again, leaving him raw and open.

  “How would Chamberlain know this?”

  “He was the one who referred me to the lender. He knew all about my debts, and he somehow learned that my parents’ death was not a random event.”

  “You haven’t mentioned the lender,” Sheffield said slowly. “Are you trying to protect him?”

  He wasn’t. “I suppose I didn’t want to say. This is all very embarrassing.”

  “Yes, extortion is, by nature of being extortion.” Sheffield stacked the letters in front of him. “Was it the Vicar?” He pierced Anthony with a fiery stare, his brown eyes intense.

  The man was very good at interrogation, and this was likely nothing compared with his usual tactics. “Yes. I am not trying to protect him.”

  “Good, he doesn’t deserve your protection or anyone else’s. You say he arranged to kill your parents because you didn’t repay him?”

  “No, I didn’t say that. He sent the highwayman to scare me—I was supposed to be on the road, not my parents. However, the highwayman killed them. The Vicar was actually very sorry it happened.”

  “The hell he was,” Sheffield muttered, his lip curling. He speared Anthony with another penetrating stare. “Why don’t you think the Vicar is behind this extortion?”

  “Because he said he’s not. He’s a businessman, and he doesn’t like extortion.”

  Sheffield grimaced. “How high was the interest on your loan?”

  “Excessive,” Anthony said grimly.

  “And I suppose you paid it. Of course you did.”