Kiss of a Duke

by Erica Ridley

All that awaited him in London was some new series of meaningless affairs. It was no longer what he wanted. He wasn’t certain it had ever been something he desired.

  He now suspected he’d been searching all this time for someone who would want more, someone he’d be unable to live without.

  Playing the part of rake helped save his pride. He could convince himself that the emptiness in his life wasn’t because he was unworthy of love, but because he had not yet met the right woman.

  Well, now they’d met. And he was still unworthy of love.

  Chest tight, Nicholas stalked to his dressing room and yanked the bell pull. “As soon as my trunks are packed, I’m gone. There’s no reason to stay.”

  “Isn’t there?”

  Of course Chris would think that. He still believed in happy ever after.

  “No,” Nicholas said flatly. “It’s over. If Penelope doesn’t even want a two-night liaison, she’s not going to marry me.”

  His brother raised his brows. “Did you ask her to marry you?”

  “What would that have done?” Nicholas asked wearily.

  Chris lifted a shoulder. “Why don’t you find out?”

  Nicholas scoffed. “No woman wants to marry a rake.”

  “You just said you weren’t a rake anymore,” Chris pointed out. “Marry her.”

  “I was a test subject in an experiment.” Nicholas enunciated each word.

  “You said that was over, too.”

  Nicholas clenched his fists, throat stinging. “I am…”

  “All out of excuses?” his brother suggested.

  “Hurt,” Nicholas admitted in a low voice. “I tried to be honest and forthcoming in all my interactions. She let me believe we were creating something that didn’t exist. I’m better off alone.”

  Chapter 17

  Penelope was still slumped against the frigid wall in her best friend’s private observatory. She stared across the telescope at Gloria.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked at last.

  “Answers.” Gloria lifted her gaze from the eyepiece. “What are you looking for?”

  Penelope cast her gaze down at the interlocking glass figurines cradled in her arms. “Impossible things.”

  If she hadn’t created Duke, Nicholas would never have approached her. If she hadn’t decided to experiment with Duchess, none of the past two weeks would have happened. She had lost him for the same reason that she had found him.

  “You don’t believe in impossible things.” Gloria returned her gaze to the lens before her. “Which means whatever you’re thinking about must still be possible.”

  “It’s not,” Penelope said. She had been dishonest. He wouldn’t forgive that.

  Gloria shot her a knowing look. “How do you know if you don’t experiment?”

  Penelope lowered her head in thought. If what had attracted Nicholas’s attention was also what had caused her to lose it, could the same work in reverse? The original experiment had been about what Penelope wanted. What did Nicholas want?

  Observation, she reminded herself. What were the observable facts? He never spent more than one night with a single woman. He had spent a night with Penelope. Ergo, he wanted her body. He had come back again. Ergo, one night wasn’t all he wanted.

  More facts. He designed superior measuring flasks for her. Ergo, he supported her interest in chemistry. He hand-delivered biscuit ingredients in order to bake for her. Ergo, he wanted to take care of her. To spend time together. He designed her the sort of bird that mates for life. And he said…

  “He loves me?” she asked in a small voice.

  Gloria’s gaze softened. “Did he use those words?”

  Penelope nodded.

  “Then he does.” Gloria’s eyes shone with satisfaction. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Penelope’s stomach turned. “He also said he didn’t love me anymore.”

  “And one of those statements was true,” Gloria agreed. “Which one do you believe?”

  A fortnight ago, Penelope did not believe in love. Today, there was nothing she wanted more.

  She just needed to convince Nicholas.

  Up until now, he had always come to Penelope. It was past time for her to go to him. Or at least try her damnedest.

  It might be too late.

  She rushed from Gloria’s house without another word. She had taken too long already. The castle was enormous, but the staff was swift. They could have trunks packed and carriages ready in the wink of an eye.

  Penelope raced up the snow-packed road toward the castle. If she did not catch him in time, she would lose more than her chance at a second trial. She didn’t even have an address to send him a letter. If she couldn’t find him, there wouldn’t be another opportunity.

  She dashed in through the castle’s front doors and made her way past the reception buffet to the head housekeeper.

  “Mrs. Blair,” she gasped, her lungs burning from racing up the steep hill.

  The housekeeper smiled. “How can I help you, Miss Mitchell?”

  Penelope took a deep breath. “Which guest chamber belongs to Nicholas Pringle?”

  The housekeeper folded her arms across her ample bosom and gave Penelope a disapproving stare. “Just like I tell all the other ladies. The day after the party, milord gave me explicit instructions not to share that information with anyone.”

  Penelope’s heart skipped. “He did?”

  That was the same day Nicholas had first come to visit Penelope.

  The housekeeper harrumphed. “And I won’t be making an exception for you. Marlowe Castle respects our guests’ privacy.”

  A perfectly reasonable stance, and impossible to argue with. What next?

  Penelope spun from the housekeeper in frustration and darted a panicked glance about the reception chamber.

  Nicholas was nowhere to be seen, of course. He didn’t want biscuits and spiced wine. He wanted to be far away from a woman he believed didn’t love him.

  “What are those?” came a dreamy voice from over Penelope’s shoulder.

  She jumped and jerked around, clutching the glass figurines to her chest for safety. “Virginia! I didn’t see you. These are birds.”

  “Turtledoves,” Virginia corrected, a self-satisfied smile spreading across her face. “Of course they are.”

  Penelope waved Virginia’s cryptic comment away impatiently. Time was running out. “You live here. Do you know which guest chamber belongs to Nicholas?”

  “Sixth floor,” Virginia answered without hesitation. “South wing, left side, fourth door. Did you know that the nuptial flight of the European turtledove is often—”

  “Thank you,” Penelope called over her shoulder as she fled the reception area and dashed up the spiral stairs.

  She could swear she heard Virginia trilling turr, turr after her as she ran.

  Penelope flew up the stairs. Even though it might already be too late, even though love was scary and unknowable, even though she might have already broken things past all repair, she had to try. Nothing else mattered. She skidded off the landing and into the corridor.

  The door to his guest chamber was open. Shadows moved inside. Nicholas might still be here!

  She burst inside, out of breath and half wild. “I love you!”

  Christopher Pringle stared back at her, eyes wide. His startled gaze dropped to the figurines. “Did Nick make those?”

  “Er, not you.” Penelope hugged the turtledoves closer to her chest. “I meant—”

  Nicholas stepped out from his dressing room, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Out.”

  “Does he mean you or me?” Penelope whispered to his brother.

  “Definitely me,” Christopher said cheerfully. He slipped past her into the corridor, shutting the door as he left.

  “I love you,” she said again, her heart racing.

  “People ‘of science’ perform experiments on animals,” Nicholas said. “You don’t fall in love with them.”

&nbs
p; “I’m not proud that I set out to manipulate you,” Penelope admitted. “It was wrong of me. To be honest, I didn’t believe it possible.”

  “Congratulations,” he said icily. “Now you know.”

  Penelope bit her lip. “You don’t understand. The experiment was whether I could attract a man as myself. We might have begun on false pretenses, but every moment we shared was you being you and me being me. Nothing could be more real.”

  He arched a brow. “Nothing?”

  “You met the true me. You know the true me. You made love to the true me.” She took a half step forward. “I’m so sorry I hurt you in the process. I was foolish. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

  He let out a slow breath. “Penelope—”

  “I won’t sell it,” she said quickly. “Duchess is dead. I’ll stop Duke, too. I never expected a perfume to become my greatest achievement, and when I saw what it could do, my only thought was to give women the same advantages. I never meant to bring heartache.”

  “Perfumes can’t break hearts,” he reminded her. “Women who manipulate men into falling in love with them, despite having no interest in keeping them, break hearts.”

  “There’s nothing I want more than to keep—” Penelope’s voice caught. “You still love me?”

  He cocked his head. “You want to keep me?”

  “Of course I want to keep you,” she choked out. “The experiment was to attract your attention, nothing more. I changed it to flirtation, in order to have another day with you. And then I changed it to a kiss, in order to have another. And then I changed it to—”

  “Last night… wasn’t part of the experiment?”

  “The trial was successful on the first day,” she admitted. “I couldn’t give up the experiment because it meant giving up you. I thought the only reason you kept coming by was because the chemical scent engineered for my pulse points had bewitched you.”

  “Many things about you bewitched me.” His lips quirked. “The chemicals behind your ears, however…”

  “It’s science,” she babbled. “I could never have attracted you on my own. You can’t deny it. Duchess was the one—”

  “My turn,” he said, and took a step forward. “You’re right. I knocked on your door because I wanted to halt Duke, not seduce its creator. But that changed.”

  She nodded. “The ‘one night’ rule. I know.”

  “You don’t know because I didn’t tell you.” His gaze was intense. “I realized I didn’t want a night with you. I wanted all the nights. All the days. All the sunsets, and twilights, and sunrises…”

  She bit her lip uncertainly, her throat scratchy. “You did?”

  “No.” He took another step forward. “I do. I always will.”

  “Me too,” she whispered and threw herself into his arms. “I want you every single second. You are the reason I know love is real.”

  “You love me?” he whispered into her hair.

  “With everything I have.” She hiccupped into his cravat. “I love you more than alchemy and chemistry and biscuits—”

  “Bad news,” he told her. “I never said I loved you more than biscuits.”

  She slapped his chest and gazed up at him with hope in her heart. “I love you, Nicholas Pringle.”

  “I love you, Penelope Mitchell.” His eyes twinkled. “Even more than biscuits. Will you be my wife?”

  “Yes.” She pressed her mouth to his and kissed him.

  The door swung open. “Your trunks are in the carriage, milord. What shall I tell the driver?”

  Penelope’s eyes met Nicholas’s. “My house?”

  “Your cottage contains a shockingly insufficient quantity of workshops,” Nicholas said with a straight face.

  The footman cleared his throat. “You’re staying, milord?”

  “I’m definitely staying.” Nicholas tossed the footman a sovereign for his troubles and returned his mouth to Penelope’s. “Banns take three weeks. Think we can build something more appropriate in that amount of time?”

  Chapter 18

  “Are you ready?” Nicholas gazed down at his beautiful bride.

  Penelope grinned back up at him. “For anything.”

  She lifted her fingers to his elbow.

  He swung her up into his arms instead. “Allow me to carry you across the threshold and into our new life.”

  Penelope’s eyes twinkled up at him. “Does it count as new if we’re going to be doing the same things as before?”

  “Newer and better,” he assured her. “Now we’ll be doing the same old things together.”

  He turned toward the open door. Although the reading of the banns only required three weeks to complete, construction had taken months.

  Their splendid fireproof home boasted what Nicholas considered to be not one, but three workshops. A chemical laboratory for Penelope. A glassblowing and mold-making workshop for Nicholas. And a well-stocked kitchen for endless supplies of biscuits.

  Not to mention an oversized chaise longue reclining beside their new chimney, just waiting to be christened.

  Heart full, Nicholas stepped over the threshold with his wife in his arms. He swung her in a circle, then paused when he noticed the empty mantel. “Blast. I should have brought you a gift.”

  “You are my gift.” She tilted her head towards the cozy chaise. “But if you really want to give me something…”

  Their bodies entwined atop the plush surface in no time.

  “Welcome home,” he murmured between kisses.

  Her eyes held a naughty glint. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my nights with Saint Nick.”

  “And your days,” he said firmly. “Allow me to demonstrate what I have in mind.”

  They wouldn’t leave their cottage for a week.

  Epilogue

  For the second time in Penelope’s life, the castle ballroom brimmed with merry villagers. All her neighbors once again gathered under one roof to celebrate a perfume of her creation.

  But this time, she hadn’t done it alone. Nicholas was by her side, and had worked with her to make Duchess a runaway success.

  “Can you believe this is happening?” she whispered.

  He squeezed her hand. “You did this.”

  “We did this,” she corrected him with a smile. “I cannot tell if demand is due to my perfume or the gorgeous bottles it’s sold in.”

  Nicholas had changed his turtledove design from figurines to decorative perfume bottles. The intricate, delicate construction of the interlocking glass birds had more than doubled the price.

  Cost didn’t seem to matter. Clients who previously would have selected one or the other, now purchased Duke and Duchess together in order to own the collection.

  “Speech, speech!” cried the crowd.

  “What do you plan to say?” Nicholas asked.

  “I’ll start with the chemical composition of civet excretions,” Penelope said with a straight face. “What are you going to tell them?”

  “Turtledoves mate for life,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Even glass ones.”

  She nodded sagely. “Turr, turr.”

  “Speech!” the crowd shouted.

  “I love you,” Nicholas murmured into her ear.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered back and looped her arm through his.

  They exchanged a mischievous grin and climbed upon the dais to make their speech together.

  * * *

  THE END

  Now that Saint Nick is off the market, Christopher is ready to find a bride. But when the matchmaker he hires turns out to be the same woman he had a public spat with the day before, nothing goes as planned!

  Join the fun in Wish Upon a Duke, the next romance in the 12 Dukes of Christmas series!

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  Get Yours: Grab Wish Upon a Duke here!

  Author’s Note

  I hope you had as much fun reading about Penelope and Nicholas as I did writing them! Their story came to me from very diverse ideas.


  One day, I was shaking my head about the over-the-top “You’ll need to hide from all the women!” advertisements of men’s colognes, similar to Hai Karate and Axe Body Spray.

  I began to wonder what the Regency equivalent might look like, and asked myself: What if the creator is a woman, rather than a man? What if her ultimate goal is to give the power to women? And what if her love interest is a dashing London rake who hates her perfume because it cramps his style?

  (In case it’s not obvious, I spend a good chunk of my work day giggling at my keyboard.)

  “Saint Nick” is more directly related to Christmas. Not only is his name a synonym for Santa Claus, many of his quirks and actions are inspired by Christmas stories and carols.

  He visits only one night, he spends all his time in his workshop, he always brings a gift, he can’t resist the cookies left for him on the mantel, he goes up on the housetop, and many more.

  Plus, there’s Penelope’s prediction that he’ll one day be a fat man with white hair sitting around eating cookies!

  Poor, long-suffering Nicholas. If it makes him feel better, I like to think of him as Hot Santa. Which means that Penelope—baker of cookies and lover of workshops—is destined to become his Mrs. Claus, apron and all.

  Thank you for joining me on their journey to love. No matter what time of year you read this romance, I hope it brings you moments of good cheer!

  xoxo,

  Erica Ridley

  Thank You For Reading

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