The Infamous Duchess

by Sophie Barnes

  She gasped with surprise and Henry took advantage, claiming her mouth so fiercely it caused her to burn from within. More so when his hand began exploring her body with torturous slowness. Pressing into his sweet caress, she heard her own groan of pleasure like a stranger’s wanton plea for more.

  Henry bit her lip gently and abandoned her mouth, kissing his way along her jaw. “God, Viola.” He nipped at her earlobe, and clusters of sparks raced straight to her core.

  “Yes,” she murmured while threading her fingers through his hair and arching against him so he could have better access.

  To her dismay and thorough disappointment, he pressed his forehead against her neck and held her tightly against him, before loosening his hold and guiding her back to her seat. He stood and went to the sideboard to pour himself a drink while Viola struggled to catch her own breath.

  “If I . . .” His voice was hoarse and his eyes bright with pure desire. He downed the contents of his glass and tried again. “If I kept on kissing you, we would have ended up on the floor with your skirts up around your waist and my . . .” He let the words fade but Viola got the picture. Right now, she wasn’t sure that sounded all that bad. His shoulders seemed to harden as if under tremendous pressure. “I don’t want us to be a quick tumble for each other. I want more than that, which is why I must ask you to leave now before I lose my resolve.”

  Viola was astounded, flattered and slightly disappointed, but she admired his ability to consider such things when all she wanted to do was feel and experience and show him how much he mattered to her. So she stood and smoothed the fabric of her gown with trembling hands.

  Henry stared at her, nostrils flaring as he took in her appearance. She could only imagine what he saw after what they’d just shared. Her skin still felt flushed and her lips continued to tingle from where they’d connected with his.

  “There is nothing I can do to dissuade you from going through with the duel, is there?” It was the only thing she could think to say for the sake of steadying herself just enough to quit his company and return to her home.

  He came toward her, stopping only when he was directly before her. “No.” Impulsively, he clasped her head between his hands and kissed her again with added fervor. It was quick but fierce and left no doubt in her mind that this point was not to be argued. As if to underscore what she already knew, he said, “This duel has to take place, Viola. I am sorry, but I will not call it off.”

  “Then I wish you success.” She hesitated briefly while holding his gaze. And then, before she could change her mind, she walked to the door, opened it wide, and exited into the hallway beyond.

  The air was crisp against her face when Viola left her house to hail a hackney the next morning. Few people were about at this early hour, which made travel easy. She doubted Henry would want her attending the duel, but staying away and worrying over the outcome wasn’t an option either. Especially not after the incredible kiss they’d shared the night before. They’d moved beyond the bounds of friendship within the blink of an eye, and were now joined together in a tightly wound knot of emotions that demanded she witness the events about to take place.

  Arriving at Hackney Meadows, Viola climbed down from the carriage and paid the driver. She then straightened her spine and walked toward the men who were gathered some distance away. Robert was the first to notice her approach. He glared at her before turning aside and offering her his back.

  Haines saw her next and hastened toward her. “You should not be here.”

  She raised a brow. “Is that why you left that ambiguous letter for me to find?”

  “No.” He frowned. “It was of course to alert you in the hope you might stop this madness before it got this far. But now we’re here and the pistols have been examined. I fear there is no going back.”

  “You are right about that,” Viola said as they came within hearing distance of Henry, who stood in close conversation with Yates. She raised her voice. “I only hope I shan’t have to inform Florian of his brother’s untimely death when he returns to England, for I daresay that would probably ruin the holiday he and his wife have had.”

  Henry turned toward her the moment he heard her speak, his eyes lit with appreciation before dimming beneath lowered eyebrows. “You should not be here,” he said.

  Viola snorted. “Haines said the exact same thing, yet here I am.” She crossed her arms to ensure they knew she had no intention of leaving.

  “What if he does actually kill me?” Henry jutted his chin in Robert’s direction.

  Viola flattened her lips. “Then I shall have ‘Dead from unnecessary cause and too stubborn to listen to reason’ engraved upon your headstone.”

  He stared at her and she felt the heat of it all the way to her toes. “I am serious, Viola.”

  “Yes. I know.” She was trying to be strong for him, but fear filled her veins and her eyes were starting to sting. Squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, she aimed for an even tone and added, “But waiting however long it might take for word of what happened to reach me would likely put me in the hospital. So I am staying.”

  Sighing, he gave a slight nod. He did not touch her or look at her with any hint of desire. His emotions were restrained, his movements precise, but the words that followed were tender, in spite of the tension with which he spoke. “You mean the world to me, Viola. Don’t ever doubt that.”

  “Shall we begin?” Yates asked.

  Henry hesitated. He glanced at Viola and then looked at Robert. Indecision blanketed the sharp intensity of his gaze. “Will you apologize for the disparaging terms in which you referred to Her Grace last night?” he asked Robert.

  “No.” Robert’s jaw was set in undeniable anger.

  Henry stared back at him across the distance. “Are you absolutely certain?”

  “You have the power to end this before either one of you gets hurt,” Yates called.

  “My words suit her to perfection,” Robert spat. “I will not take them back.”

  Henry nodded. He met Viola’s gaze. “I am sorry, but there’s nothing else for it, I’m afraid.” His eyes focused on Robert once more and he turned away from her then, his entire being fixed upon his opponent.

  Viola’s heart fluttered like a panicked bird against her chest. He’d tried to get out of it. Even though his pride demanded he face Robert, he’d made an attempt to avoid it, not for himself, but for her. The sting in her eyes worsened until she was forced to blink away tears.

  “We should move over there,” Haines said, and as reluctant as Viola was to listen, as much as she wanted to step between the two men now positioning themselves back to back, she knew she couldn’t interfere any further.

  Moving off to the side so they stood a good distance away, Viola watched with her heart in her throat as Yates started counting the paces. “One . . . two . . .” Her legs began shaking, and breathing became a difficult chore. It felt as though she was suffocating or drowning, she wasn’t sure which, but the thought did strike her that it would be quite something if the duel was called off because she was too weak to endure it.

  “Seven . . . eight . . .” Yates continued, his voice carrying loud and clear and bringing them all closer to the inevitable. “Nine . . . ten . . . Please turn!” Yates paused and Viola suddenly wanted to scream for him to continue so this awful nightmare could finally be over and . . . “Take aim and . . . fire!”

  Shots exploded and both men went down so fast that Viola could only stare in stark disbelief, as her brain refused to accept what she was seeing. No. The word was jammed in her throat. Somehow her feet started moving and then she was suddenly running while her heart thrashed wildly about in her chest. She skidded to a halt in the grass, landing on her knees beside Henry, whose hat had toppled from his head and . . .

  A sob was wrenched from her throat and her hands patted frantically at his chest, his neck, his face, desperate to find sign of life.

  “Viola.” Yates’s voice seemed to come from so
far away. A pair of warm hands touched her shoulders, and through the tears she saw Haines checking Henry’s body with much greater calm than she possessed at the moment. All Viola could look at was the bright crimson liquid trickling down the side of his head.

  “There’s so much blood.” She could barely speak, the words trembling upon her lips while her body shook in absolute desperation.

  “He’s alive, Viola,” Yates was saying, but then why was he lying so still? And what about all the blood?

  “The lead ball penetrated his hat and grazed his scalp,” Haines said. He produced a piece of linen from his bag, soaked it with gin and dabbed at Henry’s wound. “See? The wound is shallow, Viola.”

  Haines pressed down on the wound to stanch the bleeding and Henry came to, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth. “Christ almighty!”

  Viola blew out a breath. “Don’t move,” she cautioned. “You were struck, though not too severely.”

  “But you did hit your head when you fell to the ground,” Yates said. “You’ve been unconscious for about five minutes.”

  “And Tremaine?” Henry groaned.

  “His second is helping him stand,” Yates said. “I believe you struck his shoulder.”

  “If you hold this in place, I’ll go take a look,” Haines said. He waited for Viola to place her hand on the compress before getting up. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Viola stared down at Henry, the relief she felt at knowing he lived so profound it stole her breath. Her hands still trembled and her heart continued to throb with the pain she’d endured when she’d thought she’d lost him. “You silly man,” she choked while swiping a lock of his hair away from his eye. “Do you have any idea what you put me through just now?”

  “It cannot be worse than what I put myself through,” he muttered.

  She scowled at him even as she smiled in response to his lopsided grin. “I’m going to fix you up really well so I can throttle you for taking years off my life.”

  “I cannot say I envy you, Lowell,” Yates murmured at Viola’s shoulder. “Facing death on the field of honor will likely have been a breeze by comparison.”

  Viola swatted him away and leaned slightly forward, so close she could see just a hint of gold in Henry’s brown eyes. “Promise me you won’t ever do something like this again.”

  “I did not expect Robert to hit me,” he said, not giving her the assurance she needed. “He’s never been a very good shot.”

  Viola shook her head. “You are unbelievable.”

  “Unbelievably handsome, I hope.” And then, as if he hadn’t annoyed her enough by getting shot and knocking himself unconscious, he waggled his eyebrows. And damn her if she didn’t smile just a little bit more because of how charming he was even when he was lying on his back with blood smeared across his forehead.

  Viola sighed. “We should probably get you back to the hospital.”

  “I agree,” Haines said as he returned. “Tremaine has a lead ball stuck in his shoulder that needs to be extracted, while you, Lowell, could do with a thorough evaluation.”

  The grin on Henry’s face left no doubt in Viola’s mind about where his thoughts were straying. Of all the things to be contemplating in his current condition . . .

  “And since Tremaine requires minor surgery and doesn’t want you within a hundred yards of him,” Haines said, addressing Viola, “I’m thinking that I’ll take care of him while you take care of Lowell.”

  Viola wouldn’t have it any other way. “I’m happy to.”

  Henry was starting to believe he had an uncanny ability to survive getting shot. When Elmwood had called him out last year, the earl had sprained his wrist on his way to the duel, then when Baron Highpool had tried to shoot him a little over two weeks earlier, he’d missed any vital organs, and now he was getting away with no more than an inconvenient headache.

  “I think Tremaine might call me out again for refusing to die,” Henry mused. Viola, who’d cleaned his wound again and applied a poultice, went absolutely rigid. Grabbing her hand, he pressed it gently against his cheek. “Perhaps I should apologize to him for still being alive.”

  She didn’t laugh as he’d hoped she would. Instead her lips trembled and she suddenly turned her head away so he could not see her face.

  With aching heart he drew her to him, aware that he’d put her through more than she deserved. As had Robert. Between the two of them it was no wonder Viola wasn’t racing toward the altar, eager to speak her vows. In her experience, men were selfish, boorish and possibly stupid.

  “I am sorry I wasn’t able to stop this from happening,” he told her sincerely while stroking his hand down her back.

  He felt the rise and fall of her breasts as she inhaled and exhaled against him. “I’m just glad you’re not any worse off,” she said after a moment had passed. And then, “I was so scared I thought I might kill you myself when I saw what had happened. To be honest, it was as if the world collapsed around me and I . . . I just couldn’t breathe.”

  She leaned back a little in his embrace, just enough to meet his gaze, and the turbulence there completely undid him. Unable to resist, he dragged her mouth to his and kissed her as he had been dreaming of kissing her again since last night. This morning, when he’d made his way to Hackney Meadows, he’d carried with him the knowledge that if he died today, at least he would do so knowing what it was to be kissed by Viola—incomparable.

  Her lips moved carefully over his, her body relaxing against him. “We must be careful,” she murmured against his mouth.

  “I’m fine,” he assured her, and nipped at her lips just to prove it. “More so now that you’re back in my arms.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, and he swallowed her words with his own, kissing her deeply, passionately and with the joy of knowing he was still alive to experience her warmth. Her breath brushed his skin as she moved to place a soft kiss on his cheek. Her brow pressed against his and for a long moment she stayed there, just breathing him in.

  Eventually she swallowed and pulled away, her shoulders setting as she started putting away her supplies. “You need to rest for a couple of days. Do not exert yourself and make sure you change your compress twice daily.” Her cheeks were flushed and her voice slightly breathless. “I will send instructions home with you so your servants will know what to buy and how to prepare the poultice.”

  “Thank you, Viola.” He watched as she moved about, busying herself with seemingly inane tasks. “We’ve kissed each other twice now,” he felt compelled to point out just in case she hadn’t noticed.

  “Yes,” she said as if responding to a mindless comment.

  “This would suggest that you find me attractive.” He grinned when she tripped over her own two feet. “It would also suggest that you like me, which makes me wonder if you might be more willing to consider marriage now than—”

  “When I first met you?”

  He gave her his most serious frown. “Well yes.”

  She stared at him so long he was tempted to grab her and kiss her again. Before he could do so, however, she said, “I worry I’m not a good match for you, Henry.”

  He shook his head, bewildered by such a concern. “You’re a perfect match, Viola. We’re both entrepreneurs, which means we share the same fundamental views on efficiency, spending, growing a business and finding the drive to turn dreams into brilliant successes. You ground me, while I remind you to have some fun, and when we’re not together, I find myself anxiously awaiting the next time we meet.”

  Averting her gaze, she took a series of breaths as if needing the extra oxygen in order to process his words. Swallowing, she finally admitted. “I feel the same, but you’re an earl’s heir while I’m . . .”

  “What?” he asked with incomprehension when she failed to continue.

  “Not the sort of woman you ought to consider marrying.”

  “Why?”

  She drew several quivering breaths before finally saying, “I’m ill
egitimate, Henry.”

  He frowned. “I suppose there are those who might not approve, but I’m not one of them, Viola. It’s certainly not enough to deter me from seeking your hand. Not when my own brother was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

  “And look what happened to him. He had to leave London because of the scandal.”

  “Yes, but he has since managed to return,” Henry told her calmly. “More importantly, it did not change a thing between him and Juliette.”

  “No, but—”

  “It doesn’t alter my opinion of you or make me want you any less. Surely you must know that.”

  At least she nodded, which was something. “I do.”

  “But you worry what others will think if they ever find out?”

  Another nod conveyed her answer. “I know I should have told Steadford, but . . .” She sighed. “My father revealed my illegitimacy to me on his deathbed. He claimed I deserved to know the truth about my birthright before he died, but he also insisted I keep the knowledge to myself. I feared revealing it might skew Steadford’s opinion of me and cause him to stop helping me with the case.”

  Henry understood completely how misplaced fear could cause a person to keep his secrets close to his heart. For over ten years Florian had hidden the truth about his real father from Henry, afraid that Henry would look at him differently if he ever found out they were only half brothers.

  “Very well. We’ll keep this between the two of us as long as you can guarantee that there’s no chance of Hayes finding out.”

  “He won’t,” Viola promised. “There’s no record of it.”

  A moment of silence fell between them and Henry considered questioning her further. Since she hadn’t mentioned her mother at all except in passing, he wondered who the woman might have been. In all likelihood, her father had had an affair and she wanted to protect his good name. And if that was the case, then Henry would allow her to do so with dignity. So he kept his question locked up inside as she led him out of the examination room and toward a front desk. There she quickly jotted down the items she’d mentioned for the poultice and handed it to him.