Nothing Compares to the Duke EPB

by Carlyle, Christy

  “Hold the ladder steady?” She bit her lip when she looked back at him.

  Rhys’s gaze fixed on the place where her teeth sank into the soft, plump flesh of her lower lip and the rogue thought came that he wanted to kiss her right on that spot.

  “Of course.” Once again, he gripped the frame of the rolling ladder, but his fingers were an inch from the hem of her gown, and he wanted to touch her again. It was as if that brief contact of his hand on her body had unleashed every carnal impulse. He stifled the urge to slip his hand beneath her skirt and touch her stockinged leg. Or better yet, slip her stockings down and feel her flesh against his.

  It wasn’t as if he’d never seen her bare legs. They’d swam together in the mill pond many times. But this was different. They were different now, and his reactions to her were precisely what he should not be feeling. He wasn’t the man she deserved.

  “You’ve got me?” She sounded nervous.

  All of his protective impulses welled up to dispel his lecherous thoughts.

  “I won’t let you fall.”

  She paused, as if contemplating that claim, and then edged an inch closer to the book, stretching and letting out a little groan of effort.

  “I have it,” she cried triumphantly. This time she did and the volume slid free. She grasped it firmly to her chest and started to descend, but her boot caught in the hem of her skirt and she lost her balance.

  “Careful.”

  She tried to turn and free herself but leaned too far. Rhys reached up to catch her.

  “Rhys.” Eyes wide, hands out to break her fall, Bella dropped the book at his toes and then came tumbling down.

  Her body slammed into his and he landed on his back, his arms wrapped around her as she settled on top of him. She immediately scrambled to get up, her hands pressed to his chest, legs straddling his waist. When she squirmed against his groin to find her balance, Rhys instinctively grasped her hips.

  She stilled. Breathing hard, she stared at him. She was still trembling from the shock of the fall.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her softly.

  Rather than answer, she gripped his shirtfront where her hand was pressed to his chest.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” Rhys glanced down to see if her ankle was twisted or there was some other evidence of injury.

  Her hand came up and she nudged his chin to bring his gaze back to hers.

  If the press of her body against him hadn’t already aroused him, the intensity in her gaze would have. She looked at him the way he’d been watching her the last few days. Hungrily. Heatedly.

  “I’m not the girl I used to be,” she said on a breathy whisper.

  It seemed an odd time for her to tell him what was already apparent every time he was in her company but he nodded his agreement.

  Yet she still didn’t move. She remained astride him, one hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, the other pressed to his chest. The weight and heat of her felt delicious. So good he had the wayward notion of bucking up to get her closer.

  “What is it?” If she remained on top of him, she’d soon know exactly the direction of his thoughts. Was he misreading the look in her eyes for desire? He was more than prepared to remain pressed against her all day, but he knew the crinkle in her brow meant there was something she wished to say. “Tell me, Bella. What’s wrong?”

  Rather than speak, she acted. Her finger came down on his lower lip and that single touch sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine.

  She was so soft, so warm. And she wanted him. There was nothing hidden in those expressive eyes of hers now. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this with her. But he did want her, and he’d wished for her to look at him just like this for longer than he’d ever let himself admit.

  He tightened his hold on her hips, but he wasn’t certain if he was drawing her closer or holding her at bay.

  This was Bella. Sweet, brilliant, proper Bella, and she deserved a hell of a lot better than a man who’d devoted himself to nothing but self-indulgence for the last half decade.

  She pulled back as if she too had come to her senses. He felt a strange brew of frustration and relief.

  He shifted to help her back onto her feet, but instead of getting up she bent closer. She slid her hands up his chest and planted one on the carpet next to his cheek.

  Then slowly, shockingly, she lowered her head and brushed her lips against his. Not quite a kiss, more like an experiment. One hot breathy too-quick press of her mouth and she pulled back, studying his lips as if they were one of her riddles to be solved. She lifted her hand and traced the outline of his mouth with the soft pad of her finger.

  Rhys held his breath, wary of moving, though, God, how he wanted to. She was exploring, thinking, testing, and he never wanted her to stop. But he wanted more too. He knew exactly how easy it would be to tumble her onto her back, to slide her stockings down her legs and kiss every inch of skin he exposed. Images flashed in his mind.

  His self-control had always been flimsy at best and it failed him now entirely. He slid one hand down to her thigh.

  And all the delicious tender intimacy between them shattered.

  Bella pushed away from him and began getting to her feet. She used his chest for leverage and he reached for her hand.

  “Don’t.” He didn’t want her to go back to hiding behind rules and propriety.

  “We should get back to the ledgers.”

  She got to her feet next to him, dusting herself off and straightening her clothes. Rhys lifted onto his elbows and watched her.

  They were locked in the same quiet study as they had been a moment before and yet everything had changed. He could feel it like the tremor of storm clouds in the air.

  “Bella—”

  “I was impulsive.” She tucked the daisy pendant back into her bodice, then worked to push waves of hair back into pins.

  “I like you when you’re impulsive.”

  “I’m not sure I do.”

  Before he could say more, three short taps sounded at the study door.

  Rhys growled out, “Come,” as he got to his feet.

  One of the footmen stood in the hallway. “Your Grace, you have a caller who says the matter is urgent.”

  “Did they mention why?” Villagers had been calling almost daily since his arrival, but aside from those Meg wished to entertain with tea and biscuits, he intended to put them off for as long as he could.

  “He mentioned Mr. Radley.”

  “Send him up.” Rhys cast a glance at Bella. She finished with her hair and stood behind the desk, ready to resume her study of the ledgers as if nothing had passed between them.

  “The steward,” he told her by way of explanation. “The man was supposed to call days ago but never appeared. I’ve made inquiries about him and his whereabouts. I hope perhaps this caller has answers.”

  She looked intrigued and far more composed than he felt. He could still taste her on his lips, smell her floral scent on his clothes.

  The man rapped once on the study door and strode inside as if he was familiar with Edgecombe. He was short and burly and studied them both with searching black eyes.

  “I presume you’re the Duke of Claremont,” he said to Rhys while taking him in from brow to boot.

  “An accurate presumption.”

  The older man cast a glance at Bella. “May we speak alone, Your Grace?”

  Rhys bristled at the man’s tone. He had no intention of asking Bella to depart. He didn’t have to look at her to know how curious she’d be to hear what the man knew, but he glanced back at her anyway, just to see the flush that still lingered on her cheeks and lips.

  “Miss Prescott is my betrothed and will remain to hear whatever you have to say. Start by telling us who you are.”

  “The name is Macadams, Your Grace. Of Scotland Yard.” He’d offered Rhys a nod and was smart enough to offer Bella the same courtesy. Then he got straight to business, removing a small journal and pencil stub from t
he pocket of his overcoat. “You employ a man named Radley?”

  “Have you found him?” Rhys loved the notion that Macadams had the man trussed up in a carriage somewhere or clapped in irons in London.

  “Ah, I see.” The older man’s shoulders slumped. “I take it you’ve no notion where he is either, Your Grace?”

  Well, bullocks. Rhys repressed a groan.

  “I don’t. But I must speak to him, so you must find him.” Rhys glanced at Bella.

  Her eyes had widened with curiosity but now she looked as disappointed as Rhys felt. “As near as we can tell, he’s drained the ducal accounts by thousands of pounds,” she told the inspector. “Do you have no clues at all? What do you know of him, sir?”

  Macadams’s brows drew together in a frown. “I know his name isn’t Radley, my lady. His last alias was Hayes.” The man from the Yard squinted at his notepad. “His true given name is Roger Ellsworth. He’s served as a clerk in London and a butler in Bristol for a time. In both cases, there were irregularities with the accounts.”

  “Wonderful.” Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. Some part of him had held on to hope that the errors in the ledger were just that. Perhaps overpayments to vendors that could be recovered or simple mismanagement that could be resolved by hiring a new steward. Now the odds of ever recovering what Radley—or Ellsworth or whatever his damned name was—had stolen seemed bleak.

  “We’ll find him eventually, Your Grace. The man won’t always be a step ahead.”

  “But he is a step ahead now. Several of them. Do you have any idea where to look next?” Bella asked.

  The inspector seemed shocked every time she spoke, as if he wasn’t used to dealing with ladies during the course of his investigations. Especially ones who questioned him so mercilessly.

  “We have reason to believe he is from Buckinghamshire, miss. I shall inquire there next.”

  Bella shook her head. “But it seems unlikely he’d return to family, particularly if he knows you’ve discovered his identity.”

  “We shall take our investigation wherever it leads, Miss Prescott.” Macadams narrowed his bushy-browed eyes and his voice turned rough and blatantly offended.

  Bella stared back unperturbed. Rhys was almost curious to see what would happen if he let them continue.

  “I’m sure you’ll be diligent in your search, Inspector,” Rhys told the man by way of taking leave. “I’d be pleased to recover the monies he’s taken.”

  “Of course, Your Grace. And if he should reappear, please inform us straightaway.”

  The man departed as hastily as he’d entered the study, and Rhys could feel the press of Bella’s gaze before he turned to face her.

  “With a pursuer as laissez-faire as Inspector Macadams on his trail, Radley will never be apprehended.”

  “You’re a bit hard on the man, are you not?” Rhys asked playfully.

  He trusted her judgment as much as he believed in his own gut instincts. She’d always been discerning. Except, perhaps, when she’d chosen him as a friend.

  “I’m not. Do you think it’s likely a man with thousands of pounds at his disposal and a good lead on evading the law would return to the place where he’s best known?” She crossed her arms and stared at the closed study door. “If only people would employ logic.”

  Rhys knew it wasn’t the time for laughter, but he fought the urge to break into a smile. Given half the chance, she’d probably have Radley in custody by now.

  “You’re right. Macadams won’t find him in Buckinghamshire.” Rhys tried to focus on the problem of Radley and worry about his thinned-out bank account, but all he could truly think about was Bella and the taste of her lips.

  She caught him watching her. “I agreed to meet with Meg while I’m here. I should go down and find her.”

  “Bella—”

  “I know what you’re going to say.” She stepped out from behind the desk and approached. “As I said, I was impulsive, and I’m aware that I broke one of our rules.”

  “So did I.”

  She cast a glance at the rolling ladder and bookshelf. “That touching was necessary. We agreed.”

  Rhys thought it best not to mention that touching her in general was beginning to feel very necessary. So much so that when she started for the door, he reached for her arm and drew his hand down to gently clasp her wrist.

  “What would you do if it was up to you to find Mr. Radley?”

  “I’d inspect the properties he acquired on your father’s behalf. If I wished to disappear, I might go to the seaside. Or a quiet London square where I could blend in among others. I certainly wouldn’t go to the countryside and face my family.”

  “Then let’s inspect them.” London. He needed to make a trip there. He’d promised Meg.

  “Together? My mother will insist on a chaperone.”

  He liked that he detected interest in her tone, though he wasn’t certain if it was the prospect of traveling as a pair or the thrill of the chase.

  “We’re engaged, and Meg will accompany us. Shouldn’t we be seen together? Meg has been asking for a shopping trip to London. If you’re advising her, she’ll wish for you to come too.”

  He wanted her to come, and he realized he was rambling but he couldn’t seem to temper his eagerness. He sounded like one of the inventors presenting before the Duke’s Den.

  He held his breath as she considered the prospect. Something troubled her. He sensed her hesitation.

  “Can it wait until after Friday?” she finally asked.

  “Why?”

  “There is another opportunity to be seen together.” She fussed with the chain of her necklace and pressed her lips together as if she wasn’t looking forward to telling him the rest.

  “Which is?”

  “Mama has planned for us to formally announce our engagement to the local families. A small affair. Shouldn’t take long.”

  “What does she have in mind?” Mention of her mother and planning made him nervous. He expected the Yardleys to have an announcement printed in The Times, but of course the viscountess would want to share the news among the county’s notable families.

  Bella frowned, clearly dreading whatever she was about to say next.

  “She’s planned a garden party. Tomorrow afternoon. At Hillcrest.”

  “There’s no way out of it?”

  “No. We knew there would be moments when we’d have to feign this engagement for the benefit of others. It will be all right.” She sounded confident and that was almost enough to put him at ease. “We can be convincing for a couple of hours.”

  Convincing others that he desired Bella? Easy enough.

  Persuading himself to keep his hands off her? Very likely impossible.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “At least you’ve no speech to present this time.” Louisa stood at the window watching servants prepare for the garden party. She loved parties almost as much as Rhys and had been brimming with excited energy all morning.

  “That is a relief.” Bella sat at the desk in her sitting room feeling distinctly unrelieved and wondering if there was any reasonable way she could call the whole thing off.

  Not just the party but the entire ruse of an engagement.

  For the first time since she’d conceived the idea, she was certain she’d made a mistake. Since the moment Rhys walked into the billiard room, she wasn’t feeling like her new sensible self anymore. And rather than avoid him as she should have done, there was a good possibility she’d be spending part of every day with him in the foreseeable future.

  She imagined ways she could forestall what was about to happen. Rhys would no doubt be willing to end the charade, but her parents would be embarrassed and disappointed. Again.

  “He seems very at ease with this plan of yours.”

  Bella didn’t need to ask. Rhys might have hated the idea of the garden party, but he was the one person who was always at ease or could at least pretend to be better than anyone she’d ever known.
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br />   “I think he enjoys parties the way I like working on a new puzzle.” Her wall of puzzles and plans beckoned her. That was where her focus should be.

  “You two know each other well. It shouldn’t be too hard to convince others that this engagement is in earnest.” Louisa came away from the window and took a chair across from Bella.

  Bella had confided everything to her cousin and Louisa had been more than happy to be included as coconspirator.

  “We’ll convince them.”

  The party didn’t make her nervous. She’d helped her mother plan the event, knew who was coming, and had already decided what she would say when others questioned her about her decision to finally accept a proposal.

  What Bella hadn’t counted on was finding herself straddling Rhys in the middle of his study and being unable to stop herself from touching him. And it had been intoxicating, not just the heat and hardness of his body beneath hers, but for once being the one in control. She’d always been a fool for him, but yesterday he had allowed her to do as she wished.

  For as long as she’d known him, Rhys had tempted her—into mischief, into fun, into breaking free of the rules she tried so hard to follow. Now he was a different sort of temptation and she had to find a way to shore up her defenses.

  She couldn’t deny the pull between them, but she had to be less impulsive.

  “Shall we head down? Guests will begin arriving soon and it’s probably best if you’re with the duke when they do.” Louisa offered Bella a shawl, holding it out so that she could turn and step into the outspread fabric.

  “We should go down. There might be some last-minute tasks we can do to assist the preparations.” She sorely needed something to do rather than worry.

  “Aunt Gwendoline says you’re not allowed to help,” Louisa said with a soft smile. “This is all very exciting for her.”

  “I know.”

  Her mother had arranged everything with giddy enthusiasm. She’d been waiting for Bella to marry for so long.

  “This will be a happy occasion.”

  “It only needs to be a successful one. After it’s done, the next step will be to convince Mama and Papa to depart.”

  “Aunt Gwendoline has already spoken of preparations and I know how eager your father is to see the Grecian ruins. I don’t think that step will be difficult.”