Unmasking the Duke (Rogue Hearts Series Book 5)

by Donna Hatch

  They stood side by side, petting a horse as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He’d never felt so comfortable with a lady before—comfortable except for a growing longing to draw her into his arms.

  If only he could keep her at his side and hold on to the relaxed, easy joy of having her near. A few loose curls slipped from her hat and framed her face. She glanced up at him with an almost teasing smile. The image of Aphrodite superimposed itself over her. Aching, burning to touch her, he traced a finger down her cheek.

  “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he murmured.

  Warmth and affection shone in her eyes. No moment in his entire life had been as perfect as this. No lady had ever been so perfectly suited for him, the real him, Bennett. He cupped her face with his hands, leaned in, and kissed her. The softness of her lips took his breath away. She kissed him back, with more heat than before, and he slipped into a sweet bliss he only experienced with her.

  “Marry me,” he whispered as he broke the kiss. “I need you. I want you.”

  She stared, her mouth working silently, then said, “I thought we agreed I’m not suited for the role of a duchess—certainly not the Duchess of Suttenberg.”

  He pulled her in against his chest, savoring the softness of her body and the way it molded against his. “I don’t care. I don’t care if you can’t ride and don’t like large gatherings and get flustered when everyone watches you. I need you for quiet moments like this, when I can be who I really am and tell you my thoughts. When I’m with you, I forget I’m the Duke of Suttenberg, and I become just Bennett.”

  She pulled away enough to look into his eyes, and put a hand on his cheek, the same cheek she’d slapped after their last kiss. “You’d soon regret marrying me—your mother would disapprove, I’d embarrass you in public, I’d fail you in some crucial way. Something will happen, or fail to happen, and you’ll wish you’d married someone more like Miss Blackwood—with a heart, of course.” She raised up and kissed him softly. “Thank you for the offer, but I must decline.”

  He tightened his hold on her. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

  “Perhaps we oughtn’t spend time together alone.” Regret dimmed the light in her brown eyes. She stepped out of his arms and walked away.

  Pain pierced his heart. His hot blood screamed at him to run after her, to do whatever he must to secure her in his life.

  Control. Maintain control. He fisted his hands and turned away. He must accept her logic. She wasn’t suited for London life and all that would be required of her as a duchess. His duty came above his own need—the need for a wife he could love, a wife who would love him for who he was.

  He hung his head and almost gave in to the urge to weep.

  Chapter Nine

  Hannah sat in her bedroom with her fingers to her lips, reliving the glorious kiss of Bennett Arthur Partridge, the Fifteenth Duke of Suttenberg, and made no attempt to suppress the tears streaming down her face.

  Bennett. He wanted her to love him for the man, not the duke. And heaven help her, she did love him. His proposal seemed so sincere, as had his kiss. She’d almost accepted. The idea of sharing her life with a man of such strength and gentleness, of sophisticated polish and the type of kindness that he removed a saddle to let her ride his horse, who confided his private fears, who kissed her like she was the most important and loved woman in his life, left her breathless with wonder. Oh, she yearned to accept.

  His proposal had probably been another momentary lapse, like those that had driven his actions at the ball. If she’d accepted, he, as a man of honor, would have followed through and married her. But he’d grow to regret it. And he’d resent her when she failed him at every turn. Not only would she be the duchess everyone would ridicule, which would shame him and his family, but she’d fail him as a wife in her most basic role, that of bearing a future duke. He needed an heir; to deny him that would be unthinkable. The sorrowing suspicion that had plagued her for years sharpened into true pain now that it was Bennett’s children she wanted. The harsh truth glared at her.

  She lay down on the window seat and gave in to her grief. After a time, her tears dried. She stared at the trees swaying in the autumn wind, casting off their gold and crimson leaves, as if casting off hope for life.

  Alicia came in, carrying the train of her riding habit over her left arm. “How was your morning? Did you enjoy your walk?”

  Hannah pushed herself up to a seated position and hoped her sister wouldn’t detect her sorrow. “It was . . . pleasant.”

  Alicia sat next to her, her cheeks wind-kissed pink. “I’m so glad to hear it.” She let out a happy sigh. “It was a lovely day to ride. The men caught several pheasants for dinner, so we’ll eat well tonight.”

  Hannah tried to muster some enthusiasm. “I haven’t have pheasant in ages.”

  Her performance didn’t convince her sister. “Do you have another headache? You know, you should consult Dr. Power. He’s a sought-after physician in London.”

  “No, I’m well.” Hannah drew in her knees and hugged them.

  “What then?”

  Hanna rested her chin on her knees. “I don’t think I should go to London.”

  “Because you bumped into a table last night under the duchess’s scrutiny?” Alicia touched her back.

  “Not only that. I just . . . I don’t think the kind of gentleman who’d want to marry me will be there.”

  “Where do you think he’ll be?”

  “Living in a small estate in the country.”

  Alicia put an arm around her. “Oh, my dear, you have much to offer any gentleman. Don’t make assumptions about them; you’ll be wrong most of the time.” She smiled wryly, probably remembering all the assumptions she’d made about Cole. “Give it a month. If you hate London, we’ll go home and see about finding you a poor country squire.”

  Of course, Hannah’s failure to produce heirs might disappoint even a poor country squire, but at least the fate of a duchy wouldn’t be at stake. And she couldn’t bear such disappointment in Bennett’s eyes. She almost let out a moan. She must not think of him as Bennett; he must be His Grace or the duke forevermore.

  “As you wish.” She glanced at Alicia, too weary to continue this conversation with her emotions so raw. “I think I feel a headache coming on. Perhaps I shall take a nap.”

  Alicia stood. “I’ll let you rest.” She closed the door quietly behind her. But a few minutes later, Alicia returned. “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Dr. Power to look in on you. He’s here, with your permission.”

  Oh dear, caught in her lie. But if he was a sought-after London doctor . . .

  “Very well. Send him in.” Hannah stood.

  Alicia gave her a sympathetic smile and left them alone.

  The silver-haired Dr. Power entered. “Miss Palmer? I understand you are suffering from a headache?”

  “I’m better now. But . . .”

  He passed an assessing glance over her. “Can I do anything for you?”

  “Doctor, may I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” The kindly gentleman took a few steps nearer.

  She let out her breath, shaking all over. If a renowned doctor confirmed her fears, it would cement them forever. And if she knew ahead of time that she couldn’t have children, she should not, in good conscience, marry anyone, unless perhaps to a widower who already had them. Perhaps the doctor knew of a treatment or a way she could still bear a child.

  The idea of sharing her life or having children with anyone but Bennett left her empty.

  The doctor adjusted his spectacles. “Anything you tell me will be kept in strictest confidentiality.”

  She nodded, clasping and unclasping her hands, and drew a shaking breath. “I wondered if you have much experience with women who get headaches so strong that light and noise becomes intolerable and often last all day, sometimes longer.”

  “Yes, I have a few patients who suffer from that malady.”

  She
hesitated, afraid to ask the question; afraid of its answer. “I was sickly as a child, and while I’m healthier now, I still have those kinds of headaches. And I wondered, are they symptoms of something worse? Something that make it difficult for a woman to bear a child?”

  He gestured for her to sit and took a seat next to her. He gave her a fatherly smile. “No, miss. I know of no correlation between the sick headache and the ability to procreate.”

  She held her breath. “Truly?”

  “I vow it.”

  She pressed a hand to her chest, hardly daring to believe it. The dark fear she’d borne for years dissipated, but didn’t entirely vanish. It seemed too perfect to be real.

  As if sensing she needed further proof, he added, “All of my patients—both men and women—who suffer from the sick headache, also known as migraines, have many sons and daughters. There is no reason to believe you won’t, when the time comes.”

  She searched his face. A respected London doctor surely knew what he was about. And she’d observed his confidence and sincerity over the course of their visit. As the reality of his assurance sank in, she almost sobbed in relief. She might still be a green, unpolished girl who suffered from shyness and awkwardness, but at least she might know the joys of motherhood. If she ever married.

  He smiled kindly. “Have you carried that fear all your life?”

  She nodded.

  “There are many reasons why women cannot conceive or deliver healthy babies—some for reasons we may never understand except that it is God’s will—but your headaches should not preclude you from bearing children.”

  “Thank you. I’m so relieved.” Tears welled up in her eyes as the last of her fears vanished.

  “I’m happy to have provided some comfort to you.” He patted her hand and left.

  Hugging herself, Hannah leaned her head against the window. She might be a mother someday. A weight lifted from her soul.

  But her ability to produce heirs didn’t make her capable of fulfilling the role of a duchess with all its responsibilities and pressures—not to mention being married to a paragon of charm and elegance, whom everyone would think had settled for an awkward little mouse.

  Perhaps someday she’d find another man who would kiss her the way Bennett had and who would help her stop dreaming about the man she could never have. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurd thought.

  Chapter Ten

  Trying to forget the sweet girl who’d stolen his heart, Suttenberg threw himself into his duties, meeting with his steward, hosting his guests, hunting, fencing, and providing entertainment—all while trying to avoid Hannah without making it appear as if he was doing so. His efforts mocked him as meaningless.

  On the last night of the house party, Suttenberg sat next to his mother. With a little luck, his guests would view his mood as stylishly aloof instead of wounded. How would he ever find a lady who would take Hannah Palmer’s place in his heart? He’d never believed love would happen so quickly, nor take such hold of him.

  Against his will, he glanced at her—so lovely and untouchable that it almost hurt to look at her. She sat amid a small group of guests, watching them with that assessing way of hers, giving almost no input unless questioned. When someone did bring her into the conversation, her answers sometimes brought laughter and some brought pensiveness. Mostly she remained quiet, content to observe. Miss Blackwood eyed her with cold disdain, but Hannah appeared to give no notice except for glances akin to amusement.

  The duchess leaned over and spoke in his ear. “You’re right, Suttenberg. Miss Blackwood would be a perfect duchess, except the primary emotion she possesses is contempt.” She paused. “Pity Miss Palmer is so shy. Not only is she uncommonly lovely, she’s intriguing and has a depth one misses at first glance.

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Remembering his vow to pay more attention to the gentleman that Hannah Palmer suggested had captured his mother’s affection, he looked about the room for Mr. Gregory. Their longtime friend, a gentleman with a modest estate, glanced at Mother, a soft smile flitting over his features. Mother smiled back and let out an almost imperceptible sigh.

  Suttenberg eyed his mother. “Mother, may I ask an impertinent question?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Why is it that you never remarried?”

  “Oh, well, you know . . .” She waved a hand.

  “No, I don’t know. Tell me.”

  She studied her fingers, looking almost wistful. “I am the Duchess of Suttenberg. I cannot marry just anyone.”

  “Why? You’ve been alone a long time. I have the estate well in hand. You have a generous jointure. Why couldn’t you follow your heart?”

  “It wouldn’t be right if I were to marry too far below my station.”

  “I can’t imagine why not. Who would dare gainsay you?”

  “Oh, people would whisper. And any good man would know not to reach too high.”

  “Any good man would follow his heart.” As the words left his mouth, he gave a start. If he hadn’t heard himself utter it, he would never have believed he’d made such a statement. As he turned it over in his mind, it rang true. Whether it was a secret belief he’d only now acknowledged or a profound change in his principles, he couldn’t say.

  His mother stared at him in wonder. “You are the last person I would have expected to hear speak those words.”

  He let out an uneasy laugh and tried to shrug. “If he’s respectable and would treat you well, then he’s surely not beneath you.”

  She said nothing for a while. Finally, she turned tortured eyes upon him. “I have found someone but you wouldn’t approve and I can’t disappoint you.”

  Aghast, he stared. He lowered his voice. “You are in love with someone, but you haven’t married him because I wouldn’t think he’s good enough?”

  She flicked an imaginary speck off her gown. “I know all too well how important image is to this family. To you.”

  “Hang the family image. Do you love him?”

  She let out a sigh. “Yes.”

  “Does he love you?”

  She glanced at Mr. Gregory, who caught her gaze. His features turned to alarm as if he suspected they discussed something that distressed her. “Yes, I believe he does.”

  Suttenberg stood and offered a hand to her. “Come with me, please.” They crossed the room to Mr. Gregory. “Sir, please join me in the conservatory.”

  Mr. Gregory paled and glanced anxiously at the duchess. “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Unbelievable that a man who had known Suttenberg since he was an infant addressed him with such deference. Was he so pompous and untouchable that he drove everyone away, including suitors of his sister and mother?

  He led them to the conservatory. “Close the door, Gregory, if you please.”

  The gentleman did so, looking as if he were about to be tied to a post and lashed.

  Suttenberg eyed him. “Your estate is small but fairly prosperous, is it not?”

  Gregory blinked. “Yes, Your Grace. You yourself have helped me with crop techniques. My tenants are hardworking, and we turn a modest profit every year.”

  “So, you aren’t destitute?”

  “No, Your Grace.”

  “Has anyone ever accused you of being a fortune hunter?”

  Mr. Gregory stepped back in surprise. “No, Your Grace.”

  “And you aren’t a rake? You don’t gamble or drink excessively or trifle with women?” He knew the answers to this line of questioning, of course, but wanted them to see he was being thorough.

  Gregory looked more horrified with every question. “Oh, no, Your Grace.”

  Suttenberg paced across the floor amid a plethora of tropical plants, enjoying himself but trying to look grim and thoughtful. “So, you have much to offer a wife?”

  “I . . .” Gregory trailed off. “I think so, but that depends on the lady.”

  Suttenberg nodded. “I understand that you have formed an attachmen
t for the duchess.”

  After another glance at Mother, Mr. Gregory drew himself up and spoke to them both. “Yes, Your Grace. I have loved the duchess for years.”

  “Did you declare yourself?”

  He hung his head. “As much as I want to, no. I would be reaching too far above me.”

  Suttenberg turned to his mother. “Do you love him?”

  “Yes,” Mother almost sobbed.

  “Do you care about his rank or his wealth—or the lack thereof?”

  “No.”

  “Would you marry him if he asked you—if I gave my blessing?”

  She looked like a child about to reach for a longed-for gift. “Yes.”

  “Then for heaven’s sakes, Gregory, you have my blessing. Will you two just get married and stop mooning over each other?”

  Mr. Gregory and the duchess ran into each other’s arms. Suttenberg turned away to give them privacy.

  The duchess’s voice stopped him. “Bennett.”

  He froze. She hadn’t called him by his Christian name in years.

  She gave him a dazzling smile. “Perhaps you ought to take your own advice, son. If love is good enough for me, it’s good enough for you, as well.”

  He paused with his brows raised.

  She nodded toward the door. “I believe there is a lovely girl in the other room, perhaps without all the qualities one would expect from a duchess, but with many qualities desirable in a wife—a girl you can’t seem to keep your eyes off of.” She smiled as she rested her head on Gregory’s shoulder.

  Suttenberg didn’t need to be told twice. He made no comment as he left the conservatory. He shouldn’t be surprised Mother had noticed his preference for Hannah Palmer, despite his attempts to keep his feelings hidden. She was right; Hannah might not be as cool and poised as some believed a duchess must be, but she was in possession of every character trait he most admired. And he loved her. He should take his own advice.

  He sought out Lord and Lady Tarrington, inviting them to join him in the library. They eyed him curiously as he paced. “I have a problem. I have fallen in love with Hannah. I asked her to marry me yesterday—I hope you will forgive me for not seeking your permission first—but she refused. She said she’s not the kind of person who would make a good duchess. But I cannot let her go. And I believe she has feelings for me, as well.”