The Infamous Duchess

by Sophie Barnes

  Removing her gloves, she went to collect her spectacles from her study. Perching them on the bridge of her nose, she tore open the seal and read the letter with an increasing mixture of pure annoyance and dread.

  Dear Viola,

  I have been asked to attend an unexpected event tomorrow morning at Hackney Meadows. From what I gather, the preservation of your reputation is at stake, though I know little else. Mr. Lowell was rather vague when he asked for my assistance, but I do believe the location and the need for a physician says it all.

  Please know that I am betraying his trust by telling you this, but as you are my employer and friend, my loyalty in this particular instance is with you.

  Your humble servant,

  Mr. Tyler Haines

  Clutching the letter so hard her nails drove into the palms of her hands, Viola stood as if frozen while trying to calm her nerves. It was a duel. It had to be, considering the part about preserving her reputation. And with Henry involved, she knew it had to be between him and Robert. He’d called Robert out without telling her!

  To be sure, she read the letter again. There could be no misunderstanding. A duel was clearly in the making, and with rash-tempered men involved, she knew the only chance of stopping it was if she interfered. So she hurried back out to the foyer, snatched up her gloves and reticule, and exited her house. In the street, she hailed a hackney and directed it toward The Red Rose, hoping to God that Henry would be there, because calling on him at his home at this hour was out of the question.

  She arrived at her destination ten minutes later, paid the driver and entered the club.

  “Your Grace! What a wonderful surprise!”

  She immediately recognized Henry’s steward, Mr. Faulkner, and attempted a smile. It felt tight. “I came to see Mr. Lowell. Is he here by any chance?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

  “He is in his office. I’ll let him know you wish to see him.” He departed down a corridor and was back again moments later. “Please come with me,” he said, gesturing for her to follow.

  She did, her gown swooshing around her feet as she walked. The door to Henry’s office was opened by Mr. Faulkner, and Viola stepped in, her gaze landing on the man who made her heart race with wild abandon and her knees feel like wobbly jelly. The edge of his mouth lifted as he took her in, his eyes fixed on her person as if he could see every inch of the skin that lay hidden beneath her silk dress.

  “That will be all, Mr. Faulkner,” Henry murmured. He stood, not looking away from Viola for even one second.

  “Very well.”

  She heard Mr. Faulkner’s departing footsteps, and although her brain was telling her to move to the nearest chair, she remained where she was, utterly frozen. Because the force of Henry’s gaze on her sent fiery embers racing along every limb. To her dismay, they instilled in her a sudden need to be touched.

  Swallowing, she did her best to hide the effect beneath what she hoped was a blank expression. But when he grinned, she wasn’t so sure she’d succeeded.

  “You really do look incredible in that dress,” he said, his voice a husky breath of air that seemed to caress her skin.

  She shivered slightly and forced her feet into motion. “Thank you. I—” She cleared her throat and tried to recall her reason for coming. Oh right. The duel. Her jaw tightened and the heated effect he was having on her diminished enough to allow for coherent thought.

  “I found a letter from Mr. Haines waiting for me when I got home. Your name was mentioned along with an early morning event at Hackney Meadows.” She sat down in the nearest chair and gripped the armrest. “Please tell me you aren’t planning a duel against Robert.”

  He held her gaze for what seemed an eternity before finally looking away. Moving slowly, he rounded the desk like a cat on the prowl. Viola’s heart jumped a few times in her chest and a new sort of heat hugged her body. This time it was fueled by the knowledge that he was coming toward her, closing the distance and . . .

  He moved the chair adjacent to hers, turning it slightly so it faced her. And then he was lowering himself down into it, his knee sliding briefly against her thigh as he did so. Dear God! It felt like the air had been sucked from the room. More so when he reached for her hand, peeled off her glove and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

  Heaven help her, she was literally pulsing with awareness and the scoundrel probably knew it, for he grinned like a boy causing mischief—as she imagined he’d done when his brother had found the jam in his pockets decades ago.

  Pulling her hand out of his grasp, she deliberately frowned. “Well?”

  He sighed and leaned back against his chair, bringing his knee more firmly against her leg. Surely he had to be aware of the contact, which could only mean that he’d chosen not to care. Viola glanced at the open door to his office and scooted back in her seat.

  “You did not hear what he said about you, Viola.”

  “Whatever it was, it cannot be so grave.”

  “Letting it pass is not an option,” he said by way of explanation. His eyes were now completely serious. “He needs a lesson. One that I am more than happy to provide.”

  “You do realize that Robert will most likely shoot to kill.” She could picture Henry now, sprawled out on the dewy ground and spattered by crimson. A chill went through her, chasing away the heat he’d stirred.

  “I expect him to since he told me he plans on aiming for my head.”

  Viola’s stomach dropped. “Good heavens.” The chance of possibly losing him was one she refused to face even as betrayal snuck its way into her heart. “I cannot believe you intended to hide this from me, that you pretended everything was fine earlier when we parted ways, even though it was far from it.”

  Straightening in his seat, he reached for her hand once more. He held it loosely between his own and proceeded to stroke his thumb across her palm, back and forth, so gently she almost begged for added pressure. “I’m sorry, Viola, but I knew you would not approve.”

  “And yet you chose to forge ahead anyway, heedless of my opinion on a matter that affects me directly.”

  “You’re right.” His voice was smooth and his touch so wonderful it made her want to forget their argument so they could simply enjoy each other’s company. “But I’m a man, Viola. Knowing what he once did to you, how he mistreated you, hurt you, and seeing him try to do it again . . .” His hand stilled and his brow knit. “It enrages me in a way that demands satisfaction.”

  She scarcely knew what to say except “Be that as it may, I cannot stand the idea of you risking your life over this. I want you to call it off.”

  “I cannot do that. It’s a matter of honor now.”

  “That is ridiculous.” When he drew back a little, she said, “I do not want to be treated like a weak-minded woman who needs to rely on a man when it comes to fighting my battles. I want to be able to handle my own problems and I certainly don’t want you going behind my back and possibly getting killed!”

  “What if I promise not to die?”

  She stared at him. “No!”

  His fingers tightened around her hand and then he smiled. “I like how agitated you are about all of this.”

  “What?” That made less sense than the duel. “Why?”

  “Because it shows that you care.”

  “Of course I care!”

  “About me,” he clarified.

  Viola caught her breath, then slowly exhaled it. He was right, of course, but because she still feared commitment and the surrender this would require, she tried to deny it by saying, “Mostly because of your irritating determination to take control of a situation that has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

  “You’re wrong about that, Viola. It has everything to do with me.” When she shook her head weakly, he smiled at her warmly. “I meant what I said when I told you I care for you, Viola, so turning my back on this . . . on you . . . is out of the question.”

  She stared at him. “How did it come to this?” The
curiosity had been bobbing about her brain since earlier in the evening.

  His fingers reached for a dislodged strand of her hair and tucked it carefully back into place. “You’re an incredible woman, that’s how. A man would have to be blind not to pay attention. And once he does, he has no choice but to realize that it will probably take him a lifetime of good deeds in order to deserve you.”

  Pushing back his chair, Henry went to the door and closed it. He then went back to his desk, opened a drawer and pulled out some paper and a pencil.

  “I need you to understand something,” he said as he returned to his chair. “No other woman is prettier than you, Viola. Not to me.”

  “But . . .” He had to be lying or at the very least embellishing the truth so he wouldn’t hurt her. “I am so unbelievably dull! My coloring is all wrong and there isn’t a single part of my appearance that has ever been coveted or considered fashionable.”

  “I disagree, but since that doesn’t solve anything, I propose I show you how you look when seen through my eyes.” He crossed one leg over the other and settled the paper in his lap where a thick atlas gave it support. “Will you allow it?”

  Viola hesitated. He might as well have asked her to strip naked, she was so overcome by self-consciousness. “I know I’m not pretty,” she said as if needing the reminder before she allowed herself to do something truly stupid, like imagine a drawing had the power to change her boring eyes, dull hair and pasty complexion.

  “I think you should let me be the judge of that.” Henry locked his gaze with hers. “You’re obviously too objective.”

  “I do not think so.”

  He shrugged. “All right.”

  His capitulation threw her, because for some absurd reason, arguing helped. It served as a welcome distraction from the idea of him studying every imperfect line of her face for as long as it would take him to complete the sketch. Swallowing, she clasped her hands together in her lap. She’d never been a coward. This fear she felt right now was Robert’s doing, and if she gave in to it, she’d be letting him win. So she tilted her chin up instead and said, “Very well. I will humor you.”

  For the next ten minutes Henry’s pencil moved across the paper with swift and efficient strokes. His brow was knit in concentration, his eyes sharply focused and his mouth set in a flat line that conveyed how seriously he took the task of sketching Viola’s likeness. Each time he looked at her, it was with an artist’s critical eye, the expression so grave it tempted Viola to squirm in her seat. She resisted only because she didn’t want him to know how nerve-wracking she found the experience.

  “Do not move,” Henry muttered. “I am almost done.”

  Viola held her breath and her pose until Henry sat back, shifted his gaze between Viola and the sketch, and finally smiled. “Perfect,” he murmured.

  Curiosity made her forget her nerves. She leaned forward. “Can I see?”

  His eyes met hers and a brief moment of silence passed between them. Something brushed against her hand and she realized it was the paper on which he’d been drawing. He was holding it toward her.

  Inhaling deeply, as if requiring the extra oxygen to steady herself, Viola fought past her tangled nerves and frenzied heartbeat and dropped her gaze.

  Her breath caught, stuck somewhere in her throat because this . . . this woman gazing back at her had to be someone else. The eyes were intelligent and bright, the mouth curved as if seconds away from smiling and the nose a perfect complement to the other features. Even the spattering of freckles across her cheeks held appeal, adding charm and character in the most alluring way.

  Tears started pressing against her eyes so she bit her lip and pushed them back. “I didn’t think it possible, but you have actually made me look pretty.”

  “I only drew what was right before my eyes. What everyone else is too blind to see. Including you.”

  An incredulous bit of laughter slipped past her lips. Looking up, she saw that he hadn’t moved, that his steady gaze was still on her, though it now held a very distinct edge of curiosity. Or perhaps expectation? She wasn’t quite sure, but it did make her stomach dip and the paper between her fingers flutter.

  He took the paper from her hand and set it aside on his desk. When he turned back to face her, he was somehow closer than before. His thigh settled firmly against her own and then his hand cupped her cheek.

  “Do you have any idea how hard I struggle to resist you?” he asked.

  She sucked in a breath, a little undone by his blatant manner and slightly unnerved by the heat in his eyes. This was Henry, she reminded herself. He was a good man, not the womanizing rake she’d initially labeled him as. He would not treat her as poorly as Robert once had. And yet the memory of that regrettable experience snaked its way through her and pushed aside any growing desire she had to be brave—to take the chance she had here right now for the sake of a kiss.

  He must have noticed, because he instantly dropped his hand and leaned back, adding distance between them once more, and in that moment Viola hated what Robert had done to her more than ever before, because he’d stolen her courage and her ability to surrender to the one man she so desperately wanted.

  Chapter 19

  Judging from her wary expression and how readily she glanced away, Henry could tell the statement frightened her, but it was important for him to be honest—to make sure she knew how desirable he found her. Seeing her reaction, however, almost broke his heart, and he knew that additional words would have to be said.

  “I will never act on my desire for you unless it is what you want, Viola. You have my word on that.” Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, but he couldn’t allow her embarrassment to deter him. It was vital she understood he was nothing like Robert. “We can go as slow as you like. Even if we kiss it doesn’t mean anything else has to happen. I will make no demands of you. Do you understand that?”

  She gave a vague nod. It wasn’t enough.

  “Viola. Please look at me.” She raised her troubled gaze to his, and the struggle he saw in her eyes made him want to destroy the man who’d made her this way. “I cannot pretend I do not want you, because I do. In every conceivable way. But if we ever choose to share the same bed and make love to each other, it will be because you have decided to spend the rest of your life with me, for I would not go through with something like that unless I planned on spending the rest of my life with you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Henry . . .”

  “I know you are not ready to think in those terms, but it is important to me that you know where I stand. My intentions toward you are honorable, Viola. I will never bed you and leave you and I will never trick you into submitting.”

  She sank back in her chair, and when he cupped her cheek again, she leaned into his warmth as if craving that extra support. “I’m not ready to contemplate marriage.”

  “Then don’t.” When she gazed back at him, he took her hands between his. “Know that you are in control, Viola. If you want to kiss me, please do. Because I can assure you I want that as well. But if you are not ready, then wait. I will not rush you in any way.” He raised her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “But just so you know, the fact that I am doing my best to behave doesn’t mean I am not having scandalous thoughts.”

  Her breath hitched. “Really?”

  He allowed a devilish smile to slide into place. “If you must know, they keep me up at night.” Deliberately, his gaze dropped to the elegant line of her décolletage. “I cannot stop wondering what it would be like to peel your clothes from your body and run my hands over your skin.” He imagined other things too—things that left him aching with need and desperate to feel her hands upon him. But he would not describe any of that right now because if he did he might lose control, and that would be really bad after promising her restraint.

  So he straightened himself and released her hands while enjoying her dazed expression. Oh, he’d definitely given her something to think about later when she got
home and climbed into bed. Again, not wise of him to allow his wicked mind to consider what that might lead to. Unless he wanted lust and desire to ruin everything.

  Her eyes, burning bright with profound interest, pierced him until he could scarcely move. She studied him with the sort of sharpness that made him ache for her touch. “I should probably go,” she said as if she’d somehow forgotten how she’d come to be in his office in the first place.

  Henry nodded stiffly. “Probably.” He waited for her to move, prepared to stand the moment she did.

  Instead she remained where she was, watching, assessing, pondering something that made Henry’s pulse leap with strange expectation. She was torturing him with her beauty, her closeness, her bloody décolletage which revealed far more than it ought. Christ, she was maddening and he needed her gone if he was to gather his wits and prepare for tomorrow.

  Instead she leaned forward, affording him with the most perfect view of her breasts. He gripped the armrests and forced himself to stay still, breathe slowly, keep calm. “Viola,” he murmured.

  “The trouble is, I don’t want to leave you,” she said. “At least not yet. Not before doing this.”

  And then, to Henry’s amazement and utter delight, she closed the distance between them and placed her lips against his.

  It wasn’t at all what she had been planning to do when she’d come to see him. The only thing on her mind had been making him give up the duel. But then he’d touched her and said things that filled her with want. And by God, she wanted. She wanted to know how he tasted and what he felt like beneath her own mouth. She wanted to kiss him so thoroughly that their kiss would be the only one she remembered. She wanted to mark him as hers and convey how she truly felt: that there was more between them than friendship alone and that if he survived the duel against Robert, they would need to discuss every facet.

  For a second, he sat as if stunned, but then his lips moved against hers and a rough growl emerged as he started kissing her back. It was slow and gentle at first, and Viola took pleasure in growing accustomed to the feel of it. But as she pressed closer and their kiss grew deeper, his hand came around her waist, and before she knew what was happening, she was pulled straight onto his lap.