The Duke of a Thousand Desires

by Jillian Hunter

  A coach horn blared in the street. Simon suppressed the impulse to physically remove Sir David from his sight. Luckily for his unwelcome caller, Timpkins appeared in the doorway, obviously eavesdropping on the confrontation.

  “The rag-and-bone man is here, your grace,” Timpkins announced.

  “So am I,” Lord Rhys said over the estate steward’s shoulder. “Not that one should make a connection.”

  Timpkins held open the door for Rhys to enter, all the while eyeing Sir David as if he emitted a bad smell. “Have we any rubbish to give the street fellow?” he asked Simon.

  “How the dickens should I know?” Simon replied. “Ask around the kitchens.”

  Sir David was scrambling to collect his hat and gloves from beneath the gaming table where the objects had fallen. Simon glanced away to resist the temptation to give the nuisance a boot in the rump to hurry his progress.

  When he turned around again, the room was empty. Rhys, Timpkins, and Sir David had disappeared. He heard the front door slam and covered his eyes with his hand.

  At least he had kept his promise to Ravenna. And he would not bear witness to whatever roguery was about to ensue.

  16

  Simon and Ravenna accompanied Heath and Julia to a small Mayfair soirée that night. During supper Heath confided in Simon that he’d gathered some information from his contacts in the metropolis.

  “It’s not much,” Heath said. “And not about Bruxton. Sir David vacated his Piccadilly lodgings three hours after he climbed out of the rag-and-bone cart. The premises are empty. He’s paid up for another month.”

  The news should have brightened Simon’s mood. He should have been able to devote his attention to Ravenna. Instead, he anticipated menace. As he’d feared he made a miserable suitor. He withdrew into himself when he should have enjoyed her company, encouraged her to forget their worries for a night. She deserved a lighthearted fiancé and not the hard cynic he tended to be.

  He stared down the young gallants who vied for her attention at the after-supper dance until one by one they scurried off. He wasn’t merely jealous. He was suspicious of their motives. Who was it safe to trust? Julia sat out the dance with Heath. Simon would have been relieved to join them, but Aunt Glynnis was analyzing his every move and he doubted he could conceal his desire for Ravenna from her family. He also doubted he could avoid mentioning Sir David’s visit earlier; the subject of depositing a man in rubbish cart made for crude dance conversation.

  “Why do you look so melancholy, Simon?” she whispered as the first set ended.

  “Am I supposed to encourage the upstarts who admire you in my view? What would they dare if I weren’t here to glare them off?”

  A smile played about her lips. “What am I to do about the ladies who sigh in longing when you enter a room?”

  “I am not a vulnerable young virgin,” he said bluntly. “No one will entrap me in a compromising position.”

  “I did,” she murmured.

  “You are the exception.”

  “I am not likely to fall under the spell of any other scapegrace but you,” she said, tapping her toe in rhythm to the band. “When I arrived in London, Jane gave me a list of ladies and gentlemen whose acquaintance I should avoid. Can you guess whose name appeared at the top?”

  “The Earl of Crawford? Byron? No, he is off in Italy, isn’t he?” Her bosom rested against the crook of his elbow. She felt unbearably soft and fragile compared to him, and yet she thought herself invulnerable. How was he supposed to contain his emotions when in a few days they would become a man and wife? “I think I should have a talk with Jane,” he muttered.

  “Why? She’s on your side now.”

  “Our side,” he corrected her.

  Her blue eyes sparkled. “Are you a jealous lover, Simon?” she inquired behind her fan.

  “Apparently, although I never thought of myself as such until now.”

  “Are you faithful?”

  “Never doubt it,” he said with feeling. “You are quite enough woman for a dozen gentlemen. In fact, I want to kiss you right now.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  He lowered his head. “Would you allow me?”

  “Yes. If Heath weren’t staring daggers at the back of your head.”

  “I can dodge daggers. Do you know how captivating you are?”

  “You’ll have years to tell me. Or to discover otherwise.”

  His eyes gleamed with promise. “I’ll have years for many things. Is Heath still staring?”

  “Not at this precise -- ”

  He took her fan from her hand, raised it to conceal her face, and stilled the rest of her sentence with a light kiss on the lips. “Oh,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I know. I have been turned to stone. Don’t bump against me or I’ll bruise you.”

  She recovered her fan from his hand, whispering, “And Heath saw.”

  “I am in agony,” he said softly. “But it was worth it. Considering how desperately I want you, I’m demonstrating more than ducal restraint.”

  She giggled. “Have you seen Rhys tonight?”

  He cleared his throat. “Not since this afternoon. But then as much as I admire your brother, I’m more taken with you.”

  She glanced around the room, fanning the blush from her cheeks. Bewitched by her reaction, he almost missed her next words.

  “It occurs to me that with all our attention targeted on each other, we might not notice someone else behaving in an unseemly manner.”

  He inclined his head in agreement. Another couple brushed against them, and his hand shot out to draw her into the safety of his arms. He would have given anything at that moment to be alone with her, to be deep inside her. She had no inkling of how unseemly he wanted to be.

  He swallowed. “My powers of observation are definitely diminished when you are near.” Which was a polite way of saying that she turned him into a tempest and that such a state of internal unrest hardly encouraged critical thinking.

  She looked at him directly. “That’s not the first time you’ve made it sound as if we’ve been betrothed for decades instead of days. You don’t have to act the part of a smitten fiancé when we’re alone.”

  He stared down into her sweetly inquisitive face and knew he could not mislead her much longer. “I might have difficulty concentrating on anything except you, but I do possess certain instincts that I should have followed sooner.”

  “Regarding Susannah?”

  “She is one of my regrets.”

  “You are keeping something from me?” she asked adroitly.

  “If I am, you’ll learn of it eventually. It’s more of a personal embarrassment than a secret, to be honest. I’m a private man, but I’m not a spymaster like your cousin. I don’t write love letters in code.”

  She raised her brow. “Is your secret too embarrassing to tell me?”

  “I am working up the nerve. Will you promise not to laugh?”

  “No,” she said frankly.

  “That’s what I mean,” he said with a reluctant smile.

  “Fine. I won’t laugh. I promise. Cross my heart.” She lowered her shining eyes. “I’m more curious to learn about love than whatever it is that embarrasses you. Unless the two matters are related, which is a tantalizing consideration.”

  Fire flashed through his blood. He felt impatient and recklessly inclined to ignore every gentlemanly precept he had ever been taught. In a voice that hinted of his thoughts, he said, “I shall satisfy your inquisitive side very soon. Bear in mind, though, that I’ve never been beguiled by a woman I so ardently desired. The results could be more than either of us bargained for.”

  “Would you prefer I discuss something less controversial?”

  “I prefer that you be yourself,” he said. “If you suddenly became a paragon I wouldn’t know who I was marrying. Nor would I talk intimately on a dance floor to anyone else.”

  “Have you ever been engaged before, Simon?”

&n
bsp; “Never came close.”

  She looked away. “Jane heard gossip that you’re a splendid lover.”

  He stared at her. The woman kept him on his toes. “How in the name -- do not tell me. It’s probably in my favor to encourage these rumors.” It couldn’t hurt for her to come to his bed with enthusiasm. Now it remained for him to live up to whatever improbable legend he had inspired. He was in every way up for the challenge.

  “Are you a splendid lover?” she prompted.

  “You shall decide that and the matter of my decadence in a few days.” Indeed, he was counting the hours until he could satisfy her curiosity and claim her in all the ways a husband took his wife. In his mind he was sweeping her up in his arms and storming from the house for a thorough ravishment. Not that Ravenna would tolerate that sort of nonsense. Or would she? No matter, something stronger than willpower stopped him from acting on any of his Anglo-Norman impulses.

  A breath of menace had stolen through the stuffy atmosphere. His skin crawled. The enemy had arrived; a light-haired noblemen in a long silk cape was wending his way through the spectators at the edge of the dance floor.

  Simon stepped in front of Ravenna, defending her unthinkingly. “On watch now, darling. Stay close to the family. We shall waltz another time.”

  “Is it the earl?” she asked, idly fanning herself. “You look as though Satan had just walked through the door.”

  “Yes. I regret now that we came. I do not want his eyes to befoul you. I understood that he’d canceled at the last minute. I wonder what made him change his mind.”

  “Give me the chance to form my own impressions,” she said under her breath. “You might miss something that I perceive.”

  “Perhaps you are right. You are more detached than I am. My mind has been poisoned against him. But, still, I wish we had missed this dance.” He raised his chin. “I don’t fancy losing my temper in front of you.”

  “Then I will keep your temper in check.” She took his arm in gentle reassurance. “I grew up with three boys who battled morning, noon, and night.”

  17

  His shoulders stiffened as Ravenna turned, her fan closing with a quiet snap. The earl bowed before her; she responded with a politely impersonal smile. Bruxton was a year younger than Simon, wiry and well-educated, a nobleman who to all appearances possessed everything except the political power he coveted and a loving wife. He was an avid huntsman and had once hosted well-attended house parties. Now he rarely entertained. One could almost feel sorry for his lonely widowhood.

  He smiled back at Ravenna with convincing warmth. “An engagement after only a week in London, Simon? Well, now that I’ve seen the lady for myself, I understand the rush. Congratulations to you both.”

  This confrontation could not compare to the physical brawls she had interrupted in her youth. Still, she was determined to stand as a buffer against the tension that rose between the two men. Whereas moments before she had felt Simon harden in attraction to her, it was anger that clenched his body now. She preferred his explicit sexuality to his wounded rage.

  “Guard her with your life,” the earl said unexpectedly. “I’d give everything to go back in time to save Susannah.”

  Ravenna hazarded a look at Simon. By some force of will he masked the bitterness she knew tormented him. “I would do the same,” he said succinctly.

  Bruxton disengaged. His manner cooled. “I’ll excuse myself to play cards. My best to you both again. I would not turn down an invitation to your wedding.”

  Simon remained silent. Bruxton bowed again and took his leave. Ravenna refused to release Simon’s arm. She would have kissed him on the spot to prevent him from seeking a confrontation. They would never again be the carefree boy and girl whose greatest danger was to hide from wayward relatives.

  “I want to kill him,” he said simply. “He took her life. He doesn’t deserve to draw another breath.”

  Heath strolled up behind him, pausing to assess the mood. “This isn’t the place to plot,” he said. “We will build a case. I swore I would help. Count on me.”

  “And on me,” she said.

  He laughed ruefully. “Am I that pitiful?”

  “Not from my perspective,” said a soft voice at his back. Julia had abandoned her chair to join her husband. She smothered a yawn behind her gloved hand and slipped her arm into Heath’s. “I gather it’s time to go home. We’ve had a long day. Let us end the night quietly.”

  No gentleman would refuse the request of a lady carrying her first child. Heath located a servant to fetch their outer clothing, made his excuses to the host, and led the group to the hall to await the carriage.

  Simon had subsided into silence. He was relieved to remove Ravenna from the party and felt at war with himself. He did not want his wife to protect him from his own anger. He only wanted to avenge his sister. Julia attempted to lift his spirits on the short ride home. Clearly he was not as adept at concealing his thoughts as he believed himself to be. But then he was among his most trusted friends.

  Dear God, how good it felt to count on their support. He relied too much on his own insight.

  “I can breathe now,” Julia said with a relieved sigh. “The still air in the ballroom fatigued me. Shall we play cards over a pot of hot chocolate? We ought to celebrate our good conduct. Glynnis was disappointed, I think, when Grayson’s carriage collected her a few minutes ago and she had no gossip to share with her maid.”

  Heath smiled. “It’s a good thing she wasn’t wearing her glasses tonight.”

  They arrived at the townhouse three minutes before the stroke of one. Heath’s personal footman and bodyguard approached the carriage, a hat in his broad hands.

  “My lord,” he said to his master. “Perhaps we should retire to your study. There is a slight concern.”

  “Oh, out with it, Hamm,” Julia said, handing a maidservant her gloves and mantle.

  The servant answered in hesitation. “The marquess has asked the gentlemen of the family to convene tomorrow morning in regard to a family incident that occurred earlier today. I was on the way to the party to deliver the message in person. We would have missed one another in passing.”

  “Is anyone dead?” Julia inquired. “Or fatally wounded?”

  “No, my lady.”

  “Then Ravenna and I shall take chocolate upstairs and talk about happier things.”

  Grayson summoned the gentlemen of the family who were currently in London into his library after breakfast the next morning. Simon glanced around the room at the select male assembly present. Who had sinned this time? He grinned at Rhys. Then he nodded cordially to the rest of the group: Grayson’s younger brothers, Heath, Drake, and Devon. A fourth chair sat empty next to Devon. Simon understood it was reserved for the lost and youngest brother, Brandon, until recently presumed dead. To the family’s agony, he was still missing and his whereabouts remained a mystery.

  Also present were three Enfield cousins, as well as a Scotsman whose name Simon didn’t catch. They would be his relatives soon enough, and one of them -- Rhys? -- had misbehaved.

  “I shall be brief,” Grayson said. “I have called you here to declare a five-day moratorium on scandal. Surely that is not too great a sacrifice to ask?”

  “Simon and I escorted the ladies to the museum and a supper dance yesterday,” Heath said. “It could not have been more uneventful.”

  “I trust the statues in the exhibit hall sustained no damage?” Grayson said, clearly still miffed about his garden ornament.

  “What did you do yesterday?” Heath asked Rhys.

  “Didn’t Simon tell you?” Rhys said with an innocent air.

  “No,” Grayson said, his jaw firming.

  “I didn’t want the ladies to hear,” Simon added.

  Grayson frowned at Rhys. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing much. I helped Simon’s man Friday take out some rubbish. Then I went to the fencing academy.”

  “You tossed that idiot Sir David into a c
art,” Grayson said darkly. “He jumped out in the middle of the street waving bones and dirty rags as the prime minister’s carriage was passing by. His wife shrieked in her husband’s ear. He was not pleased.”

  Heath covered his eyes. “Lovely.”

  Grayson sighed. “I agree that the act was justified, but there have to be some limits. Therefore, I am imposing a five-day moratorium on … mischief. The family is growing. I have two children now, numerous nieces and nephews to consider. I cannot be available to put out every spark of gossip that ignites.”

  “But you are so adept at it,” Heath said, sharing a sly grin with Drake and Devon.

  “I am running out of excuses,” Grayson said flatly. “And Aunt Glynnis has offered Jane her alliance, which means she is temporarily staying in this house. Complaining to me. All the time. And she will reside here until Griffin’s house in Bedford Square is made ready for her. Five days, I say. Not an entire week. No dinners, dances, or even visits to your clubs. Stay home and read a damned book. My collection is at your disposal should you choose to study a classic drama instead of creating one.”

  The scandal of the Caverley-Boscastle engagement would not die down. Daily reports of the betrothed couple’s appearances filled the newspapers. The moratorium Grayson had decreed did nothing to discourage the scribblings of journalists who seemed content to unearth old news when they found no fresh mud to sling.

  For months now Simon had been perusing the papers and gentlemen’s magazines for news of Bruxton’s activities. He’d discovered little of note except in relation to the earl’s penchant for horseracing. He had, on a lighter note, inadvertently tucked away some domestic advice that no self-respecting duke would confess he found interesting. In the course of his journalistic research he’d learned how to impregnate a room with lavender water, where in London to attend a French waltz, and who to consult for a truss in the event of a rupture. He also ordered some nervous drops for Grayson and Aunt Glynnis, and a collection of an Italian count’s library, sight unseen, for Ravenna, as one of her wedding presents.