The Duchess in His Bed

by Heath Lorraine

  She gave him a lofty once-over and a serene smile. “I’ve no doubt. Still, it would make me an inhospitable hostess not to accompany you, Mr. Trewlove.”

  Without waiting for him, she began walking elegantly toward the stairs. He hurried to catch up. “You know who I am.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Several years back, as I recall, you arrived at a late hour and informed the butler who greeted you—I shall never forget the words—‘I’m Aiden Trewlove, the earl’s bastard, and I’ll have a word with him.’ I think you quite frightened the poor fellow. I was standing on the stairs”—which she now descended—“unnoticed, as you were singular in your purpose that evening. To be honest, I was quite shocked as well by your arrival.”

  “You were unaware he had bastards?”

  She held her tongue until she finished her descent, stopped, and faced him. “Oh no, Mr. Trewlove. I knew he had bastards. I gave birth to three of them, but he took them from me within minutes of their birth. He considered children born on the wrong side of the blanket to be an inconvenience. Your arrival gave me hope that he had kept his promise to see them loved and well cared for. This way.”

  He tried to study her more closely to determine if he could see any of himself in her, but she turned on her heel, once more leaving him to catch up. Could she possibly be his mother? Or maybe Finn’s?

  “You were his mistress before you were his wife.” Again, a statement not a question.

  “How clever you are, Mr. Trewlove.”

  “Did you have boys?”

  “I did.” Opening a door, she crossed the threshold into the library. “As I recall from your last visit, the earl neglected to offer you anything to drink so I don’t know your preference.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, a bit of teasing mirrored in her brown eyes. “I listened at the door. What may I pour you?”

  “Scotch.”

  Watching the efficiency with which she opened the decanter and poured the amber liquid into a tumbler, he imagined she’d done so for his sire a hundred times. She held the glass out to him, and he wondered if that hand had ever stroked his brow, if her arms had ever cradled him. Would she even know if he was her son? Shouldn’t some connection exist between them, so when he looked at her, he’d feel deep in his bones this is the woman who birthed me?

  Taking her offering, he swallowed a good bit before asking, “Do you know what became of your boys?”

  “Well, one is presently a viscount. I suppose in some manner he is your brother as well. I wonder if you would go to such lengths to save him as you did Finn.”

  She truly had eavesdropped, not that he’d doubted her. Not that she’d have had to be at the door to hear what passed between Aiden and his sire. Much of what they’d had to say to each other had been shouted.

  “He visited a few months back,” she continued as she walked over to the desk and leaned against it. “Broke your father’s arm—”

  “He’s not my father.”

  Her eyes widened at that; no doubt she was taken by surprise by his vehemence.

  “I’m his bastard, I won’t deny that. But he is not my father. A father does not abandon”—but if he got Selena with child he’d be doing exactly that—“his child. He’s my vile sire, the blackguard who planted the seed, but he is no more to me than that.”

  She held his gaze firmly, not flinching, not looking away during the battering of his harsh words, and he wondered if she was imagining the bastards that she’d brought into the world tossing the same words at her. “He can be quite charming when he sets his mind to it, especially when he was younger, more handsome, more virile. I actually loved him for a time.” She lowered her eyes to her satin slippers, the toes peering out from beneath her dressing gown. “Tell me, Mr. Trewlove”—she lifted her eyes, locked them on to his—“do you know when you were delivered to the baby farmer?”

  So she was wondering the same thing he was. “The scapegrace dropped me into Ettie Trewlove’s arms on the twenty-sixth of February in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and forty.” With his pronouncement, her expression changed not one whit. He might as well have said the dawn of time. He wasn’t quite certain what he thought of this woman who had let the earl take children from her and then deemed herself in love with him enough to marry him.

  “Is that date significant to you?” he prodded, the words tart and impatient. He wanted to see something from her other than cool reserve.

  She sighed. “I fear not. Which is probably just as well. I suspect you hate the woman who allowed you to be taken from her.”

  “I don’t know how I feel about her. Why would you marry a man who gave away your children?”

  “I was seventeen, enjoying my first Season, when I caught Elverton’s fancy. I knew he was married, but I didn’t care. I loved him, and he promised to take care of me. So I became his mistress. My father, a baron, disowned me. I never held his actions against him, because I fully understood that I was a sinner, but his casting me aside did limit my options. A fallen woman with no skills. I couldn’t risk angering my keeper by insisting I be allowed to keep the babes. Perhaps your mother shared the same fate, Mr. Trewlove. For the most part, women have very little power. We do what we must to survive or to ensure the survival of those we love. Seldom are the choices easily made nor are they generally pleasant.”

  He thought of Selena, the choice she was making, how he despised it. Yet she would soldier on, putting the needs of others before her own.

  “When his wife died tragically in a boating mishap,” she continued, “I was all of twenty-one, still had my looks. And he knew I was fertile. I could provide him with the heir his wife had failed to. While it does not speak well of me, I did still love him and thought my sacrifices had earned me the right to be at his side, and to finally have access to everything—his household, his money, respectability. So I moved off Mistress Row—our informal name for the area because quite a few of the town houses on the street served as lodgings for the mistresses of lords—to a grand residence in Mayfair. And now I live every day with the memory of the weaknesses of my youth.”

  “I’m not sitting in judgment of you,” he felt compelled to say. He knew the world was a harsh place for women. He and his brothers had come to the aid of many through the years.

  “That makes you the only one in London.”

  The echo of footsteps had the countess straightening away from the desk. “Your host arrives.” Her smile was self-mocking. “I shan’t listen at the keyhole this time. Good night, Mr. Trewlove.”

  She began walking toward the door.

  “My brother Finn.”

  Stopping, she glanced back.

  “He was brought to Ettie Trewlove on April eighth of the same year. Perhaps—”

  She shook her head. “No, he is not one of my sons.”

  The earl burst into the room, staggered to a stop. “Good God, Frances, what are you doing here?”

  “Entertaining your guest.”

  “Will you see to Polly? Her nerves are still rattled.”

  “I’ll take her some warm milk.”

  Aiden wanted to shout at her to kick the doxy out, felt rather grateful that he’d grown up with far different examples—but then his mum wasn’t all innocence and goodness either. She’d done things of which she wasn’t proud in order to survive. The countess was correct. Women had a rougher go of it than men.

  As he lumbered over to the sideboard housing decanters, Elverton didn’t deem to acknowledge Aiden, but then Aiden hadn’t expected he would. The earl followed the same routine he had when Aiden had first called on him years earlier. He poured himself a scotch, stalked to the desk, dropped into his chair, and glared. “What do you want?”

  “I want nothing. I’m here to make a demand. Stay clear of the Duchess of Lushing.”

  Elverton barked out a laugh. “You do not make demands of me, boy.”

  Aiden tossed back the scotch, then hurled the glass into the hearth where it shattered into shards
. The earl jumped, which brought him a great deal of satisfaction. “She is not for you.”

  “Think she’s for you, do you? She’d not give you the time of day. How do you even know her?” Holding up a hand, he snapped his fingers. “Your club. No, that can’t be. She’s in mourning, observing it quite strictly. Unless she went before Lushing died.”

  “Don’t worry yourself over it. Just stay away from her or you’ll find yourself with more broken bones.”

  “You’ve got nothing to offer her. Not respectability, not a place in Society. She’s the daughter of an earl, has been the wife of a duke, for God’s sake. Do you really believe she would allow herself to be seen with you?”

  No, she’d fuck him but not walk beside him. And that grated, not that he’d give Elverton the satisfaction of seeing how his words had hit the mark. Aiden marched over to the desk, flattened his hands on it, and leaned toward the arrogant sod. “Stay. Away. From. Her.”

  His sire tapped a finger against his glass. “For seventy-five percent of your profits.”

  He’d given him sixty percent to save Finn, but he’d been younger then, all of twenty-three, not as confident, not as sure of himself. Then Finn had visited the earl a few months back and put an end to the arrangement. “Heed my warning or see yourself ruined.”

  Turning on his heel, he strode with purpose for the door.

  “You are nothing!” his sire yelled after him.

  He fought not to let the words take root, but it was a challenge. He’d believed he had something special with Selena. He thought she’d cared for him. But she wanted to use him, just as the earl had used whoever Aiden’s mother had been. When it came to the heart, no one had power.

  The Earl of Camberley liked playing cards at the Cerberus Club. Nothing about it was fancy. The dark smoke-filled rooms were a reflection of London’s underworld, and within these walls, commoners mixed with the lesser lords, second sons, third, and fourth. Those with pockets that held little save lint. Those no longer welcomed at White’s or allowed through the doors of other proper gentlemen’s clubs.

  The language was rough, the laughter loud, the liquor cheap. Gin mostly. But he was not in a position to complain. He was able to get credit extended to him here, while he wasn’t at other places. And in a few more hands, he was going to have to ask for more credit. His luck was atrocious this evening.

  Although it could very well be day by now. No windows allowed for the viewing of the passage of time, and he was always surprised when he looked at his watch to see how many hours had passed. He was reaching into his waistcoat pocket to retrieve his timepiece when everyone around him went quiet. Glancing up, he saw Aiden Trewlove, the club’s owner, standing there. It wasn’t often that he made an appearance. He was too busy managing his new club, the club Selena was now frequenting, the club that would provide their salvation.

  “Camberley.”

  He didn’t much like being singled out, especially when he heard no respect in the club owner’s tone. He was determined to match it. “Trewlove.”

  “What say you and I play a game, just the two of us?”

  Before Camberley could provide an answer, the lads with whom he’d been playing shoved back their chairs and went in search of other tables. Trewlove dropped into a vacated chair and began gathering up the scattered cards. “You don’t seem to be having much luck tonight.”

  “I’ve had better.”

  “Not often. You’re an atrocious player.”

  “I shouldn’t think you’d complain about that. It puts money in your coffers.”

  Trewlove’s grin was more predatory than friendly. He began shuffling the cards with a skill and swiftness that was unnerving. In his hands, the cards merely whispered as they fell into place. “Do you know what you owe on your marker here?”

  “Twelve thousand pounds.”

  “We’re going to play a game of War. Your vowels will be the bet. Double or nothing. If I win, you’ll owe me twenty-four thousand. If you win, your debt to me is cleared.”

  Camberley’s heart began racing as though it were a thoroughbred on a racetrack. Never before had he wagered so much in a single go. Everything within him screamed for him to decline, get up, and go home now. Instead, he nodded.

  Trewlove fanned the cards out over the table. “We’re playing a simplified version. You select a card, I select a card. The higher card wins.”

  Swallowing hard, Camberley placed the tip of a finger on a card—

  No, not that one. He touched another, then another. Twelve thousand pounds at stake. If he lost, he had no means with which to see his debt cleared. Ah, but if he won . . .

  Using only his fingertip, he snagged a card and dragged it toward him. Slowly, he lifted the edge of the card. Eight of clubs. Damn.

  Trewlove didn’t hesitate. He simply snatched up the very last card, the one that had been on the bottom of the stack. He nodded toward Camberley.

  Striving to look as haughty as possible, to give the impression he wasn’t afraid his world was about to crumble around him, he tossed down his card, faceup.

  Trewlove flicked his card in such a way that it did a little somersault in the air before landing on the earl’s card. Two of hearts.

  Camberley laughed. “I won! I owe you nothing.”

  “You’re a fortunate man, Lord Camberley. You leave here free of debt. Make the most of it. Don’t come back.”

  “How is it that you have the means to visit gaming hells?”

  Camberley had always known Selena was a formidable force to be reckoned with when the situation warranted the rising of her temper, but he’d always thought himself immune to her anger. He was the only boy among a sea of girls. He was the heir, now the earl.

  But he’d returned to his residence at nearly four in the morning only to be informed by his butler that Selena had arrived two hours earlier and was awaiting him in the library. Apparently, she’d spent the time stewing. He’d never known her to be so agitated. “I managed to get my credit extended.”

  She folded her arms across her stomach, and he wondered if it was to stop herself from yanking out his hair. “Do you not think any extended credit would be better served being applied to bringing your estate up to snuff?”

  “A man needs his distractions.”

  She took a menacing step forward, and he leaped back, not much liking the mutinous fire burning in her eyes. “I’d like distractions as well, Winslow, but they are not to be had at present. I thought we were of a like mind, in agreement that we needed to get matters put to right as quickly as possible—for the girls’ sakes.”

  “You’re going to get yourself with child—”

  “And if it doesn’t happen?”

  “If you apply yourself fervently—”

  Her eyes narrowing to the point they could slice open a man stilled his words. “You will cease your gambling. You will divest yourself of your mistress. You will no longer be viewed as a wastrel but will dedicate yourself to bringing honor and respect back to the title and estates. Not only for the girls’ sakes but for your own. As things stand now, what sort of wife do you think you would procure?”

  He didn’t want a wife. He wanted his mistress. He loved her. But he held his tongue because he doubted Selena would welcome the news. “I am too young to wed.”

  “No, Winslow, you are not. Nor are you too young to prove yourself worthy of your place in Society. You will pull back your shoulders and march forward as I’ve been required to do. Or you shall find yourself in a very unpleasant spot, indeed.”

  He jerked up his chin. “Are you threatening me?”

  “I am saying I will no longer carry you. I will help where I can, naturally, but only if I see you are making an equal effort. Represent yourself as any respectable lord who found himself to be a pauper would and marry yourself a wealthy heiress. And make no further visits to the Cerberus Club.”

  He flung himself into a chair. “I have no choice in that particular matter. Aiden Trewlove, the bastard�
��”

  “Don’t call him that.”

  He stared at her. “Why should you care what I call him?”

  “Aiden has worked extremely hard to better himself, has earned his success—”

  “Aiden?” Suspicions, unwanted and chilling, dawned. “How did you even know I frequented the Cerberus?”

  If her hair had been unbound, it would have swirled around her with the force with which she jerked up her chin. “I’ve heard rumors.”

  “No, you haven’t.” Slowly he came to his feet. “Pray tell me that you are not consorting with Aiden Trewlove, that he is not the one who will be getting you with child.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “He is a man to be reckoned with, a man who will not take lightly being made a fool of. Three of his siblings have married into the nobility. Eventually they will be skirting the edges of Society, and he will be right there with them. Should he ever catch sight of your son, should he realize—”

  “I can handle him.”

  “Do you know what he did tonight? He came to his club and challenged me to a game. Just the two of us. He wagered my debt to him. Twelve thousand pounds—”

  “Twelve thousand pounds? Are you mad? That is my income for six years! That money could have been put to much better use than card play.”

  “You’re missing the point. He wagered it as though it was nothing. We each drew a card. The one with the higher card won. I won, Selena. He canceled my debt, then forbid me to ever return. He was angry at me for winning.”

  To his surprise, her face softened as she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the reason he warned you against going to his club.”

  “Of course it is. That’s the sort of man he is. No one crosses him. No one. He will not take kindly to your using him.”

  “I am well aware of that fact.”

  “You were supposed to choose some lowly commoner who there was no chance in hell you’d ever see again. What were you thinking to select a man whose family is the talk of all of London? That’s hardly being discreet.”