Tempting The Ruined Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  Louisa was left alone, standing with her glass clutched like a lifeline around her fingers.

  Eyes.

  She felt a pair of eyes bearing down on her, and she slowly turned, catching sight of those eyes—green as grass and glittering like emeralds.

  Jeremy.

  Louisa’s breath caught in her throat as the tall Duke’s long legs swiftly brought him closer. She’d been caught. She’d be kicked out; she just knew it. Despite the fact that she had permission to be here, she suddenly felt the urge to run for it. But before she could urge her feet away, Jeremy was looming over her, and she met his gaze with wide, blue eyes filled with trepidation and defiance. She lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated by him and his height and his nobility. She had a reason to be here and she would not apologize for it.

  "You look quite lovely today, Miss." Jeremy smiled charmingly, "Might I ask you for a dance?"

  Louisa blinked in surprise. What is he up to?

  "Uhm, I’m not really a guest," she confessed softly, eyes darting about to see if anyone else had noticed their interaction.

  "But you’re here now, are you not? A single dance will not hurt anyone now, will it?” Jeremy’s eyes flashed for a moment with something Louisa could not define.

  Taking a deep breath, she gave a small nod, “Then, I would love you—to!” Louisa corrected herself, cheeks flushing pink.

  The Duke regarded her with amusement before he took Louisa by the hand, setting her glass on the table, and led her out onto the dance floor. They passed the noble hosting the party and her daughter as they found a clearing to start their waltz. They were familiar to Louisa as she had seen them ride around in their couch. Luckily, Lady Kester’s back had been toward them, although Louisa saw her daughter notice that the Duke was about to dance with a very inappropriately dressed woman.

  Jeremy held her close, hand on her waist like the perfect gentleman as he guided Louisa around the dance floor to the music. They passed Betty as she was just turning around from placing the flowers on the plinth and her friend’s eyes widened with shock. Nevertheless, she recovered fairly quickly and winked at Louisa, giving her a nod of approval.

  The painter felt a bit light-headed, but not from the gentle motions Jeremy was leading her in, but from the reality that he was holding her so close. His hands were warm on the muslin covering her back but she could feel every individual finger as if she was naked before him. She shivered, wanting to strain backward into him. A strange feeling indeed, one she did not know what to do with.

  If her father knew of this, he would be mortified or at least embarrassed. She did not know why she was allowing this to continue. It was dreamlike, and Louisa’s heart beat faster in her chest. She was sure Jeremy could hear it.

  All too soon the song and the dance came to an end and Jeremy leaned in closer, plucking a fallen flower petal off Louisa’s sleeve where it had fallen from her hair during the dance. He handed the petal to Louisa, whispered in her ear before he pulled away and walked back to his friends.

  Louisa watched him leave, unbelievingly.

  "Hey, what’d he say? You look shocked," Betty asked, walking over to her.

  Louisa smiled and shook her head, “Come on, we should go before we really get in trouble,” Louisa said, turning and weaving her way through the crowd toward the door.

  "Already? Do you not want to see if we can get away with joining the revelry? The day is still so young! But honestly, what did the gentleman tell you, my friend, and how do you know him?"

  But Louisa didn’t answer, keeping Jeremy’s words to herself.

  "Thank you for a proper dance, Louisa. But you should go before my host recognizes you.”

  She did not know what it all meant!

  Chapter 6

  Truth-Telling

  Even if she had helped him with his hands, Mrs. Marni had been quite clear that her treatment was temporary. And with every treatment, it would become less effective.

  “Do you know what the problem is?” he asked her.

  Mrs. Marni shrugged. “I seen it before. Tis an affliction that loosens the tendons and muscles holding your hands together. And so they begin to shake and it gets worse and worse, never better. You can only slow it.”

  Americus swallowed, nodding his understanding and turned to leave.

  “If’n you need your hands for something specific…better hurry up and do it now.” She called to him.

  He nodded jerkily, thinking bleakly of the Duke of Munboro and his insistence that he only had time to sit for him in the mornings – for just two hours. Regardless of the time limits that had been placed upon him, his hands would not allow him to do the fine painting he needed to do for more than three hours anyway. He prayed that his fingers would hold out long enough for him to finish this painting.

  He knew that he needed to prepare his daughter for what was to come. It simply broke his heart to think of doing that though. He arrived home with a heavy heart to find the house empty and his daughter gone.

  He looked around for a note but didn’t find one. Sighing tiredly, he set about seeing if he could gather some ingredients together for supper. He would have to think about letting the housekeeper go. It would save them some money and stretch out how far their savings could go.

  He dug out some bread and cheese, and roasted fish and put it all on a plate before covering it up. He would wait for Louisa to get back before they ate.

  He trudged up to the attic where his art things were kept, and where he was working on one last portrait of Louisa. She was wearing her favorite blue gown in the painting. He added his personal style and color to his memory of his daughter’s luminous skin – the earth colors in the brown of her hair and the grassy green of her eyes. She was his little wood nymph.

  He mixed in a generous amount of greens and blues for veins and shadows, copious with red and pink for flush. The blue gown took on a life of its own, becoming the sea and the portrait’s background; he wove it into waves and whitewash, enhancing it with watercolor. He stared at the painting, wondering what it was trying to tell him.

  A clatter of dishes in the kitchen alerted him to the presence of his daughter and he put down his brush, rinsing it off first with water from the jug before making his way downstairs to greet her.

  “Where were you?” he asked.

  “Oh, I went to see Betty. I helped her to deliver some flowers.” The words were innocuous enough but she would not look at him and her cheeks were deeply flushed.

  “Is that all?” he probed.

  “Y-yes.” She picked up the plate of leftovers, almost dropped it, before placing it on the table. He saw that she had heated up the fish and cut the bread.

  “Did something else happen?” he persisted worriedly.

  “No, nothing happened. Come sit. Let’s eat.” She pointed to his chair even as she sat on her own. He hesitated, wanting to push further but he knew how stubborn she could be. If she didn’t want to tell him what had happened, she wouldn’t.

  He sat slowly down and reached for a sandwich, gratified that his fingers remained steady. “I am simply worried about you, Louisa. You seem flustered.”

  “I…well…I am not flustered. I simply,” she shook her head, lips working as if she was reaching for words and finding them inadequate. “I suppose I wasn’t prepared. I saw the Duke at the party and it surprised me, that’s all.”

  Americus frowned. “He did not…accost you in any way, did he?”

  Louisa was shaking her head quite vigorously even before he finished asking. “No father. He did not. He was just…a little surprised to see me too. We…we were given permission to place the flowers in the room where the party was held and…well…” she shrugged.

  “You felt out of place?”

  “Uh, yes. And it was disconcerting to see him there when I was perhaps, not somewhere I should be.”

  Americus studied her thoughtfully. “I feel as if, he did notice you quite a bit when we were at his home. Perhaps
it would be safer for you to stay home–”

  “Oh no, father! He did not do anything untoward, I do assure you. He was the perfect gentleman.”

  The flush on Louisa’s cheeks piqued his interest. Is she interested in this Duke? And what is my duty as her father? To discourage her attention – as well as the Duke’s – or encourage it?

  He was interested in getting his daughter married before the spring it was true. But Jeremy Harper was a Duke and they were not known for marrying commoners – however talented they might be. However, this Duke was a maverick. He had run off to sea rather than play the role society had dictated to him. Perhaps he would see nothing amiss in courting a commoner.

  Americus would have to think further on this.

  * * *

  “Who was that lady you were dancing with? The one in the white who disappeared soon after your dance?” Daniel asked him as they sipped brandy in his study later that evening.

  Jeremy sighed. He had been expecting the question because there was no way he would be so lucky as to dance with someone who looked like Louisa without his friend noticing. “She is an acquaintance of mine.”

  Daniel’s eyebrow went up. “Is she now? What kind of acquaintance? Why have I never seen her before at a ton event?”

  “Perhaps because she is a commoner. Her father is painting my portrait.”

  “Nooo! I was not aware that Americus Notley had a daughter.”

  Jeremy turned to him in surprise. “You know him?”

  Daniel snorted. “Everybody knows him. He is a much-sought-after painter. A bit of a recluse too. Where did you meet the daughter?”

  “She came with her father to my first painting session to assist him I think.”

  Daniel nodded his understanding. “And let me guess, you formed an instant tendresse for her blushing looks and bashful mannerisms?”

  Jeremy looked away with a snort of disgust, unable to deny Daniel’s claim. Indeed, his hands still tingled with the feel of her soft flesh beneath them. They itched to close around her trim waist again and press her to him so she could feel how much she affected him.

  “You did!” Daniel exclaimed as he stared with narrow-eyed scrutiny at his friend.

  “I did not!” Jeremy tried to say.

  “You always were an awful liar, Jeremy.”

  “In any case, it matters not. I have other pressing matters to deal with.”

  Daniel sobered at once. “Your mother you mean?”

  Jeremy looked pensively down at his glance, swirling the golden liquid as he brooded. “There is something more than grief at work with her. I do not know how to help her.”

  “She has always been high strung though, hasn’t she?”

  Jeremy nodded. “Indeed. It was the trial of my youth as you might recall,” he gave a rueful laugh as he glanced at his friend before returning to his contemplation of the brandy in his glass. “She would fly into a temper at the most trivial things. I could hardly predict how she would react to any one thing. It was one reason why I ran away without a word.”

  “I remember,” Daniel said quietly, taking a large sip from his own glass. They sat in silence for a while, in silent meditation about their childhoods.

  “Father always knew what to say to defuse her,” Jeremy broke the silence by saying.

  “Well…he isn’t here to defuse her anymore, so I suppose it’s up to you.”

  The object of their conversation opened the door without knocking and strode into the room. “Jeremy–” she stopped when she saw that Daniel was with him. “Oh, there you are, Shearcaster. And how are you?”

  Daniel, as well as Jeremy, had got to their feet. “Very well, thank you, Your Grace. And how do you fare?”

  “I am managing,” she said placing a delicate hand on her heart, “It is difficult, but what is one to do?”

  “Indeed…well we are here to support you in any way you might need.”

  “Thank you. Please do pass my regards to your family. I did appreciate their help with the funeral arrangements.”

  “It was our pleasure to help,” Daniel said with a bow.

  The Dowager turned to Jeremy. “I wanted to find out how goes your portrait painting. Are you almost done?”

  Jeremy lifted an incredulous eyebrow but his tone was even when he replied. “He has only been by once, mother.”

  She nodded absently. “Well, you can tell him to hurry it up you know. I want the picture done.”

  Jeremy nodded. “I understand, Mother. I shall send a note to him tomorrow, letting him know that he is to increase the hours he is here so he finishes faster.”

  The Duchess nodded jerkily. “Very good, Joseph,” she said before turning and leaving.

  Daniel and Jeremy stared after her in surprise. “Did she just call you by your father’s name?”

  Jeremy sighed. “Yes, and now you see what I mean about it being more than grief?”

  “Yes…” Daniel said softly. “Have you taken her to a physician?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “No. You know how easily word spreads through the ton. I do not want her to be the subject of any gossip.”

  “Understandable,” Daniel replied with a nod. “I shall make inquiries discreetly and see if there is anyone who might be able to help.”

  “Thank you, brother. It is gratifying to have real friends at this difficult time.”

  “Yes well…if I don’t help you, you might contemplate running away to sea again and you know how much I cannot stand the sea.” Daniel quipped to dispel the heavy air that had settled in the room.

  “Oh, I know. You complain about it often enough.” Jeremy took his seat again and reached for the decanter. There was plenty of brandy left and the night was still young.

  * * *

  Americus stared at the note in horror, wondering how he would get out of this one.

  “What is it, father? Is there some bad news?” Louisa asked. She was sitting at the opposite end of the breakfast table, watching as he read the note that had been delivered by a Munboro footman not ten minutes before.

  He sighed, closing his eyes. Perhaps it was time to acquaint Louisa with the full extent of his problem.

  “The Duke wishes me to extend the hours I spend painting him so as to finish sooner.”

  She blinked slowly at him, taking a sip of her cocoa and waited for him to continue. Her heart thundered in her chest at the thought of seeing His Grace again but at the same time, she was anxious for her father. It was as if she knew the words he would say. But that could not be.

  “I…” he swallowed, shaking his head. “Louisa, my hands they…they are not what they used to be. There is no way I could complete this painting at the rate the Duke is asking.”

  “Perhaps Mrs. Marni-” Louisa began, but Americus was already shaking his head.

  “I went to her for a consultation. To see if she could help me with a cure. She says there is none. That the shaking will only get worse.”

  “What shall we do?” she was looking at him as if she knew he must have an answer. Americus did not know what to tell her. He simply shook his head in defeat.

  “Perhaps…” Louisa hesitated.

  Americus looked up hopefully. “What?”

  “Well…perhaps you could spend your time doing the outline and fleshing out the painting and…I could finish it.” She peered tentatively at him, as if afraid of his reaction.

  A feeling of light burst in his chest as he realized that she had, in fact, happened upon the solution to their problem. He frowned, trying to see how it might work.

  “You…disagree?” she asked.

  He looked up at her, surprised. And then realized he had not answered her. “If there is anyone who I would trust to finish this painting to the same standard as I would have, it’s you, dear daughter.”

  “Oh,” she said on an exhale as if she had been holding her breath.

  “But…”

  “Yes?”

  “Convincing the Duke and Dowager Duchess that
you can do it is something else. We might have to…resort to subterfuge.”

  “What…or rather how shall we do that?”

  “Well, we can tell the Duke that we are done with him for the day and he can leave so that you take over the painting while I rest my hands. I expect he should be relieved.”

  “Yes. He can come and sit for an hour and I can discreetly make notes and drafts of what is to be covered for the day and then we can let him go away while we do the rest!”