Unmasking the Duke (Rogue Hearts Series Book 5)

by Donna Hatch

  “The third time was last month. A group of us had a picnic and picked blackberries. I dropped my basket, and you helped me pick up my spilled berries.”

  He let out a long exhale and fingered the stems of the lilacs.

  She pushed on. “That same afternoon, you bit into a tart and realized it was strawberry. But since you only ate one bite, you suffered a very mild reaction. The fifth was the morning of the ball when you came to visit my brother-in-law. You mistook me for a servant!”

  He winced.

  “Do you remember any of that? No? Of course not. You only remember the brazen flirt wearing a mask.”

  “Miss Palmer, in my defense, I seldom pay attention to ladies as young as you. You’re what? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

  “Eighteen!”

  He waved that away. “Nearly half my age. And if those very young ladies I meet are clearly without enough Town polish or confidence to move among the highest circles with the most notoriously judgmental grand dames of society, I make a point not to look at them a second time—especially if they are beautiful because I don’t want to tempt myself; I never wish to raise a lady’s expectations, and I have a great many duties, so I cannot let myself become distracted by someone I cannot court.”

  “You were very distracted at the ball, it appears.”

  He paused, his expression softening. “I certainly was. If I had known who you were, I would not have danced with you a second time, probably not even a first. Nor would I have . . .” He made a circular wave. “You know.”

  She wouldn’t let him off that easily. “Kissed me?”

  He winced again. “I apologize if I made you feel unnoticed the previous times we met. I do believe I remember you at the picnic. You were wearing pink, weren’t you? I don’t think you spoke the entire time.”

  “No, I’m not normally one for conversation, especially in large groups.”

  “You certainly spoke at the ball.”

  “That was easy. I wore a mask, and we were playing a guessing game.” Her leg ached in earnest, and dark shadows reached across the road. “I’m going home. My sister will be worried about me.” She took another step, but her ankle had stiffened and the pain doubled.

  “Please ride my horse.” A light of understanding brightened his face. “You’re afraid of horses. I remember.”

  She gritted her teeth and kept limping.

  He kept pace with her. “We’ll go slowly, and I’ll be right here to steady you. You won’t fall.”

  “No,” she ground out. She bit her lip to keep from crying out with the pain.

  He raised his voice to a stern tone. “Hannah Palmer, I am giving you two choices: either my horse carries you, or I carry you.”

  At his threat, she pulled out her hatpin, brandishing it like a weapon. “Touch me and I swear I’ll . . . I’ll put out your eye!”

  He paused, sizing her up. With a single, swift motion, he stepped in, grabbed her by the wrist of the hand that wielded the hatpin, and pulled her against his chest. For a few terrifying heartbeats, he held her trapped against him. Every nerve ending blazed with awareness.

  He parted his lips, those tempting lips that had taught her a pleasure she’d never dreamed would be so sublime. Instead of kissing her, he said, “Just so you have no delusions that your ‘defense’ would protect you if I meant you harm.”

  She stared into his eyes, unable to look away.

  He dropped his voice to a whisper and loosened his grip. “But I have no intention of hurting you. Forgive me for speaking to you in such a heavy-handed manner.” He released her and stepped back, leaving her off-balance and aching for his touch again.

  Clearly only a practiced roué had such effect on sensible young ladies like herself. Or maybe she was so hopelessly green that she was prime to fall victim to any smooth charmer—which didn’t paint a delightful picture of her future in London. Maybe he was right; she didn’t have enough Town polish. The matrons of London would eat her alive, not to mention worldly gentleman who might not have honorable intensions.

  He moistened his lips and continued speaking softly. “I cannot leave you to walk injured, especially now that it is growing dark. I know I broke your trust when I kissed you, but I give you my word as a gentleman, I won’t take advantage, and I won’t let you fall off my horse nor be harmed in any way. Please, please allow me to take you home.”

  Between the burning in her foot and ankle, and the desperate sincerity in his expression, not to mention his achingly handsome face, she relented—probably another lapse in judgment. She and the duke clearly brought out those qualities in each other.

  Resigned, she nodded. “Very well.”

  Mingled relief and satisfaction overcame his features. “Here.”

  He handed her the lilacs. As he lifted her into his arms, she held her breath. Their bodies pressed together intimately. Though slim, he possessed strength aplenty to hold her without visible effort. That patch of blond hair caught her attention. Was it as soft as it looked? He smelled divine, all male and desirable. His lips caught her fascination. Only inches from hers, they reminded her of how sweetly they’d kissed her.

  Her confusing exhilaration from the singular experience of being in the duke’s arms changed to fear as they approached the horse. The beast loomed large, an unpredictable creature with big teeth and uncertain temper, likely to spook at anything. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She closed her eyes. The duke carefully sat her upon the blanket on the horse’s back with her legs on the horse’s left side. She made the mistake of opening her eyes and looking down. The ground fell away at a dizzying distance. The horse shifted his weight underneath Hannah. She turned cold. With the duke’s arms still encompassing her, and his head level with her waist, Hannah tried to control her labored breathing. The horse shifted again.

  “You’re safe,” the duke murmured. “Relax.”

  With one arm still around her, he used his free hand to pet the horse’s neck and murmured, “Easy, boy. Be a gentleman.”

  The horse’s ears swiveled back to listen, and he snorted, still prancing.

  “She needs your help,” continued the duke. “Let’s go slowly and take the lady home.”

  As the horse settled, the duke eyed Hannah. “Good—you’re sitting more comfortably now. Let’s go. I’ll stay right next to you.”

  Leading the horse, the duke urged the animal to a sedate walk, but Hannah’s fear compounded with every step. The horse took several small sideways steps, probably feeling the tension in her body. The duke murmured soothingly, to her or to the horse, she wasn’t sure which, but neither of them calmed. She squeezed the lilacs so hard that she crushed several blooms. Perspiration trickled down the side of her face.

  With a quick glance at her face, the duke said, “This isn’t going to work. I’ll have to ride with you.”

  He led the horse to a stile next to the road. Using the stile as a mounting block in the absence of stirrups, he swung up and settled her in front of him, then reached around her to take the reins. She blushed so hotly she could have caught fire. She was practically sitting across his lap and letting him embrace her. There were just so many things wrong with that. The heat from his chest warmed her left side, and his arms around her created a sensation of safety and danger all at once.

  “I won’t let you fall,” he said. “Trust me.”

  “I’d probably trust you better if I didn’t know you,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “If you truly knew me, you’d have complete faith in me,” he said tightly.

  She glanced up at his face. Only inches separated their mouths. “To do what? Compromise me completely?”

  Anger rolled over his features, but then he let out a long exhale and composed his face. With his arms around her, he urged the horse forward again. Under the duke’s confident command, the horse obediently pranced along the road, his head bobbing.

  Finally he said, “I’m sorry. It was ungentlemanly of me. I should have never behaved that way. But
I was pretty sure I’d found the perfect lady, and I couldn’t think straight.”

  Pleasure seeped into her. But his “perfect lady” was a role she’d played at a masque, a lady who didn’t exist. She was only Hannah, a sickly, shy nobody.

  “And I apologize for drawing my blade,” he continued. “When that man insulted you, I lost my head. You seem to bring out a side of me I didn’t know existed.”

  Her conscience pricked her, and she softened toward him. “Perhaps it was the mask. I did and said things I don’t normally, either.”

  “Can we start anew?”

  She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  He looked wounded. “Nothing nefarious, I promise. Simply begin our acquaintance in a more . . . traditional way.”

  “We did. I hardly said two words to you, and you instantly forgot my existence.”

  He flinched. A few seconds passed. He spoke in the same thoughtful tones he’d used as the Musketeer, as Bennett. “The difference was the way you carried yourself. You were confident at the masquerade ball—poised, mature, witty—so I deemed you approachable. Meeting you as the very young and inexperienced sister of the Countess of Tarrington, not to mention how shy you seemed, well, it made you unavailable. So I avoided looking at temptation. It’s hard to remember what one doesn’t allow oneself to see.”

  His explanation made sense in a way. After her parents died and she wore black crepe for mourning, she avoided looking at gowns and hats in cheery colors because she couldn’t have them while in mourning. Later, she didn’t look at them because her family was too poor to afford such finery.

  Tarrington Castle came into view, its silvery white spires beckoning in the dimming light like a lighthouse to weary sailors. But it no longer held the appeal she’d expected. Inside the castle, she was alone. Oh, she had Alicia and Cole and their sweet baby, but no family of her own. Bennett’s strong arms around her enfolded her in comfort and reassurance. It might be counterfeit to love, but the sensation was hard to ignore. In his arms, her fears about riding the horse had taken a step back—not quite leaving, but at least not leaving her quaking.

  Did the duke often hold ladies in such a way? She looked down at the lilacs, a thoughtful gesture, to be sure. But was that only the gesture of a libertine? She might merely have been one in a long line of ladies he’d tried to seduce.

  Bennett—the duke, she corrected herself—met her gaze, his features soft and imploring. “Will you forgive me?”

  She moistened her lips. “If I ask you a blunt question, will you give me an honest answer?”

  He paused. “Very well. You have my word. I owe you complete honesty.”

  “Do you often kiss ladies?”

  His body stiffened. After a moment, he lowered his mouth to her ear and said softly, “No. I don’t often kiss ladies, or women of any kind. Despite my behavior toward you, I am not such a scoundrel.”

  He hadn’t been seeking a dishonorable liaison with her. Yet that relief was tempered by the sad truth that he’d kissed Aphrodite, not Hannah Palmer, which meant he’d never kiss her again. Would another man’s kiss be so moving? Surely if she found a man she loved, his kiss would eclipse Bennett’s. Of course, she still had the London season to survive. And that ugly little fear that she couldn’t have children whispered at the futility of dreaming of a family.

  The horse snorted and strained against the reins, ratcheting up Hannah’s fear, but Bennett held his mount under control. But can one really control a horse—even a man as commanding as the Duke of Suttenberg?

  His chest rumbled against her. “You said you loved Shakespeare’s comedies. Which is your favorite?”

  As she considered his question, her nervousness eased enough for her to sit more comfortably. “Either Much Ado about Nothing or Twelfth Night.”

  “What do you like about them?”

  “Strong women. In fact, many of his plays have strong women—The Taming of the Shrew, for example. Katherine’s strength was misplaced at first, but at least she refused to be a doormat.”

  As they discussed Shakespeare’s plays, the trip flew by. Enfolded in his arms, she relaxed against Bennett, soaking in the sensation of being held.

  As the sun sank behind the horizon, they arrived at the front door of Tarrington Castle. Then it hit her; she no longer trembled in fear. She’d been so occupied with her conversation with Bennett that her fear had vanished. Amazed, she glanced at him. He’d probably brought up the subject of Shakespeare to keep her mind off her fears. Whether he’d done that out of kindness or necessity, she could not say.

  He dismounted and lifted her down. “Can you walk or shall I carry you?”

  “I’ll walk.” She took a cautious step but hissed in her breath.

  He swung her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the front door. Resigned, she put her arms around his neck. She really shouldn’t enjoy the safety and well-being that overcame her when he carried her. In fact, she should still be angry with him. But after these past few minutes in his company, she had quite forgiven him. He’d transformed into Bennett who captured her attention at the masque—considerate, attentive, gentle—not at all the duke who owned the world and viewed everyone as objects to serve him.

  Inside, Cole, wearing his overcoat, stood, giving orders to several men who held lanterns. Alicia stood nearby, pale and silent. She turned at Hannah’s arrival.

  “Hannah!” Alicia rushed forward but stopped short. “You’re touching my sister again, Suttenberg.”

  The men fell silent.

  Hannah put up a hand. “It’s not what you think. His Grace was kind enough to help me when I twisted my ankle.” She smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You know me, my usual clumsy self.”

  Alicia folded her arms and glared at the duke, obviously unconvinced. Cole dismissed the others and strode toward them, his gaze thunderous.

  As Bennett set her down on a nearby chair, he whispered, “You’re stronger than you know, just like Katherine. Or Aphrodite.” Without waiting for her reply, he stood, facing the others. “I found her limping near the bridge and I could not, in good conscience, allow her to walk so far on an injured foot.”

  Alicia and Cole wore equally concerned expressions bordering on anger.

  She couldn’t allow her sister and brother-in-law to believe the worst of Bennett’s actions this afternoon. “That’s true. I don’t know how I would have made it home without his aid.”

  Alicia glared at the duke but spoke to Hannah. “What did he do, carry you all the way home?”

  “No, we rode his horse.”

  Her sister’s amber eyes opened wide. “You rode a horse?”

  Hannah nodded. “I didn’t think I could do it, but His Grace walked the horse and kept my mind off of it.” At Alicia’s look of alarm, Hannah rushed on. “We discussed Shakespeare, and I wasn’t nearly so afraid.”

  “Suttenberg?” Cole looked at the duke for verification.

  He donned his ducal mien, all traces of her Bennett vanishing. “I give you my word, I did not touch her in an improper way. I admit to a lapse in judgment at the ball, but I hope you know I’d never take advantage of an innocent girl.”

  Cole let out his breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “Of course. My apologies for doubting your honor. When Hannah didn’t come home, we grew anxious. Then you come in carrying her . . .”

  “It looked bad,” the duke finished. “Understandable.” He bowed to Hannah. “Good evening, Miss Palmer. I hope your ankle heals quickly.”

  “Thank you for your assistance.” She blocked out the memories of his arms around her while they rode and while he carried her to the house. And she most especially blocked out the softness of his kiss at the ball and the stirrings inside her heart.

  Alicia crouched in front of Hannah. “Which ankle?”

  Hannah lifted her injured foot and held still while Alicia unfastened the boot to examine the damage.

  “This changes nothing, I trust?” the duke said.
“You’re still coming to my hunting lodge in Netherfield in two weeks’ time?”

  Cole and Alicia exchanged weighted glances. Alicia nodded briefly. Cole’s expression relaxed, and he said, “Yes, we’re still coming.”

  The duke smiled. “Excellent. Until then.” His gaze rested on Hannah briefly, and her Bennett peeked through his ducal posture. He bowed and strode away, his lean body filling out his suit beautifully. Blushing, Hannah forced her attention back onto her foot.

  Alicia stared at her, and her voice took on an incredulous tone. “You like him.”

  “No!” Hannah put a hand over her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. He was so charming at the ball. And just now, when he brought me home, he was so kind. He took off his saddle so I could ride, and he didn’t make me feel foolish for being so afraid. But it’s pointless. I’m beneath him.”

  Alicia sat next to her. “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s looking for someone who’ll be the perfect duchess, not someone young and shy like I am. I’m not mature enough, nor do I have enough Town polish.” Not to mention he needed someone to bear children and protect the ducal line. Fate had made her a failure in the most basic feminine duty. She curled her hand into a fist in helpless anger.

  “You have plenty of polish,” Alicia said indignantly. Then she grew thoughtful. “I admit, being a duchess brings on a great deal of responsibility, not to mention public scrutiny. “Everyone looks to a duchess for comportment, dress, everything. She is usually held as some kind of example to follow, but if she slips up, people are delighted to find evidence she’s no better than they. People can be pathetic sycophants to a duchess’s face but utterly ruthless behind her back. They do it to a countess, as well.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Cole broke in. “Suttenberg is always doing everything he should and excelling at it. Naturally, I found it vastly startling, not to mention amusing, to learn he’d lost his head at our ball. It reassured me the rest of us mere mortals aren’t as far behind him as it appears.”

  “You’re an earl,” Hannah said. “You aren’t far behind him in rank.”

  “Not just rank, but in everything. He seems so perfect. Like my brother Christian.” He grimaced but affection softened the expression.