The Duke in My Bed

by Amelia Grey

  He smiled and—heaven help her—her legs turned to water.

  “You looked quite fetching after playing with your sisters, your long sunset-colored tresses dancing across your shoulders, and your cheeks flushed from the exertion. I meant I didn’t recognize you without your four sisters standing watch behind you.”

  “Oh, well, of course, you know they are too young to— Thank you,” she finally said, wanting to hide her sudden inability to get a sentence out correctly. If she weren’t so busy remembering his kisses and embrace, she wouldn’t be so tongue-tied.

  “How are Miss Sybil, Miss Lillian, and Miss Bonnie?” he asked.

  “Doing very well,” she answered getting control of her runaway feelings. “They are as loud and noisy as usual, running about the house.”

  “Just what I would expect from happy girls.” He smiled again, this time cunningly. “And how is Saint?”

  “The same.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “I hope you haven’t missed him too much.”

  “I haven’t missed him at all.”

  Louisa lifted her chin, and her eyes narrowed a little. “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true.” The duke smiled for a third time. “How could I miss him when I know he is getting all that attention from your sisters?”

  “They are happy to have him. Thank you again for giving him to them.”

  “No more thank-yous needed. Is Miss Gwen enjoying herself tonight?”

  “I think she was a little nervous when we first arrived, but once she started meeting people and saw how eager they were to meet her, she relaxed and found her charm.”

  “And what of you? Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why don’t you look like you are?”

  He could raise the fine hairs on the back of her neck faster than anyone. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m having a wonderful time. And if I don’t show it right now, it’s only because I am talking to you and not some other gentleman who is not only nicer but more handsome, too.”

  He seemed to be weighing the sincerity of her words. “You look as if you’re wondering if I’m going to kiss you again.”

  “I do not, Your Grace,” she said indignantly.

  “Am I interrupting anything?”

  At the sound of the voice behind her, Louisa turned to see that a tall, regal woman with light brown hair piled high on her head had joined them. Her dark golden gown was lovely, though it was lacking trim, lace, or beads of any kind. After having spent the better part of three weeks looking at fabrics in Mrs. Rivoire’s boutique, Louisa knew the dowager duchess’s gown had real gold thread woven in it and needed no other adornment. And while her gown and headpiece were plain, her jewelry was expensive and exquisite. The scooped neck of her gown was covered by a spiderweb of intricately woven emeralds and diamonds set in delicate gold filigree. The same pattern was in earrings that dropped almost to the tops of her shoulders.

  When Louisa’s gaze met the woman’s, she thought she could have been looking into the duke’s eyes. Her face was much like her son’s, unreadable.

  Louisa wasn’t sure she’d even listened to the introductions so intent was she on the woman herself. The duchess appeared to be a little older than Mrs. Colthrust, perhaps only a few years past the age of fifty.

  “Miss Prim,” Her Grace said, “I’ve heard about you for over two years now. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

  Louisa cast her eyes around to the duke, thinking she could just imagine what the two must have said about her.

  “Oh, no need to look at my son,” she said with a rather sly smile, and cut her own gaze over to him. “He has never mentioned you to me.”

  “Really?” Louisa said, finding that statement hard to believe.

  “Shocking, I know,” she answered. “But he likes to think he’s keeping me in the dark concerning his private life, but with the ton and their gossip mills, and the many wagers throughout the city—really, now, how could he?”

  “I do try, though, Your Grace,” the duke said to his mother.

  “As it should be. A mother has no right to know all her son’s affairs, does she?”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned,” he answered.

  Louisa liked the easy way in which the duke and his mother talked to each other. Though their tone sounded formal, it was clear from the way they looked at each other that they were very much at ease and enjoying their banter.

  Her Grace smiled at the duke before giving her attention back to Louisa. “I’ve heard your name countless times at dinner parties, card parties, picnics in the park, and private conversations. Wherever there are people, they are always talking about my son, and usually it’s about his vow to your brother.”

  “I’m sorry my brother put him in that position, Your Grace.”

  “I’m not,” she answered. “I’ve loved every moment of it, though I’m not sure he would say the same, am I right?”

  “You are,” the duke said, not looking at all uncomfortable that he was the topic of the conversation.

  “Why would you love gossip about your son?” Louisa had to ask.

  “Well, it’s certainly better to be talked about than not even thought about,” she said, and then laughed softly.

  “You know, Your Grace,” the duke said, “I do seem to remember that we spoke once of Miss Prim.”

  A wrinkle formed on the duchess’s brow. “When was that?”

  “Shortly after the accident, you asked me what I planned to do about Miss Prim.”

  The light of surprise danced in her eyes. “Oh, you are right. I did ask once, but that was a long time ago. Forgive me, Miss Prim, my memory’s not as good as it used to be.”

  Louisa didn’t believe for a moment that the lady had a poor memory. She seem exceptionally sharp to Louisa. “What did he answer?” The words tumbled from Louisa’s mouth before she could pull them back. She immediately added, “I’m sorry, Your Grace. Forgive me, I shouldn’t be asking about a private conversation between you and your son.”

  The duchess shrugged. “I can’t give away his secrets. I don’t know any, but I believe his answer to me was something on the order of ‘I have no time set that I will.’”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “It didn’t surprise me either,” the duchess said. “He never does what is expected of him, no matter how rewarding it might be.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “And now it’s obvious that his tardiness in approaching you didn’t upset you either,” the duchess said.

  “Not in the least,” Louisa answered with a smile, appreciating their candid conversation.

  “However, Your Grace,” the duke said, looking over to his mother again, “you should know that I did tell Miss Prim a few weeks ago that I wanted to marry her.”

  The duchess’s eyes widened as she regarded Louisa. “Well, that is news I hadn’t heard. Though there have been many doubters in London that my son would live up to his promise, I knew he would eventually get around to doing the right thing.” Giving her attention to the duke she said, “I’m sure your father is now settling comfortably into his grave.”

  “Not quite yet,” he responded. “She declined my offer.”

  The duchess’s expression changed to one of admiration. “You rejected my son? That has to be a first for him.”

  “I’ll not deny or admit that, but I believe Miss Prim’s exact words to me were, ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were tipped in gold and trussed up with a thousand strings of rubies.’ Is that an accurate account of what you said, Miss Prim?”

  Louisa felt her cheeks heating and hoped the candles had burned low enough that no one could see her heightened color. She cleared her throat. “You might have missed the count of the rubies by a strand or two, but that’s fairly accurate, Your Grace.”

  “Hmm,” the duchess said. “She must have heard about your devilish ways.”

  “That
probably says it a bit nicer than she would have.”

  His mother laughed a deep, hearty laugh, and Louisa was heartened to know the woman hadn’t taken offense at Louisa’s disparaging comments about her son.

  Louisa wanted to get off the conversation about marriage, so she said, “Thank you for assisting Mrs. Colthrust with getting accounts set up for us at the shops in Town. That was a lovely thing for you to do, and it helped immensely.”

  “If there is one thing I’ve learned since becoming a duchess, it’s which shops offer the best fabrics. Your gown is lovely, by the way, Miss Prim. Now, if you will excuse me, I promised His Grace—” She paused and looked over at the duke—“that I would find one of the patronesses of Almack’s and introduce you and your sister to her. I’ll find you and your sister later in the evening and take care of that.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Louisa said.

  As soon as the duchess said her good-byes and walked away, Louisa turned to the duke. His face had twisted into a scowl, and he was staring at the dance floor. The dance was a fast quadrille, but Louisa caught sight of Gwen and a dashing young man who definitely knew his way around a dance floor. They were laughing and looked perfectly matched.

  “Why do you have such a grimace?” Louisa asked. “Do you think I said something to offend your mother?”

  “No. Look whom Miss Gwen is dancing with. Did you or Mrs. Colthrust give her permission to dance with him?”

  Louisa studied the man. She knew they had been introduced, but she didn’t remember his name. “I’m sure one of us must have. She wouldn’t be dancing with him otherwise.”

  “He is the last person you should want her with.”

  “We met so many people, I’m afraid I don’t remember anything about him. Who is he, and why shouldn’t Gwen be dancing with him?”

  “He is Mr. Stanly Standish, and she shouldn’t be dancing with him, because he’s too much like I was a few years ago.”

  Louisa looked at the duke. “You mean he’s—?”

  “Yes, Miss Prim. He’s a scoundrel of the highest order, too.”

  Chapter 17

  We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

  —Hamlet, act 4, scene 1

  “Are you sure?” Miss Prim asked him.

  Annoyed that she’d questioned him, Bray frowned. “Surely this is not an area where you need to doubt me.”

  “But he seemed such a pleasant and true gentleman when I met him earlier tonight.”

  “How else would you expect him to conduct himself when meeting a beautiful young lady, her sister, and her chaperone at a ballroom? Even scoundrels know how to behave properly, Miss Prim. They just seldom do.”

  A twist of worry wrinkled her forehead. “I’m sure you are right about him, Your Grace. I just don’t like admitting that you are.”

  Bray let his gaze feather down her face. He wanted to pull her to his chest and hold her, soothe her brow. At this moment, he didn’t necessarily want to kiss her or even make love to her. He’d always loved the feel of a woman in his arms, beneath him, or astride him. He loved the pleasure he gave and received. But he couldn’t remember ever wanting to hold a woman just so he could feel her close to him.

  Miss Prim aroused things he didn’t want to feel, such as caring whether or not Miss Gwen was dancing with a rake. It should mean nothing to him, but for reasons he could not understand, he did care.

  “Well, don’t just stand there looking at me as if there were other things on your mind,” Miss Prim said. “Do something.”

  There are other things on my mind!

  Bray crossed his hands over his chest and shrugged. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “I have no idea. What do you usually do when a scoundrel dances with an innocent young lady?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? That is not a satisfactory answer.”

  “It’s only a dance. They are in full view of everyone, and it’s ending now. Just tell her to be careful of him and not to find herself out on a dark terrace with him.”

  “Is he noted for ruining the reputations of young ladies?”

  “If you call breaking their hearts ruining them,” Bray said, and noticed that someone had moved into his line of vision just over Miss Prim’s shoulder.

  It was Mr. Hopscotch. When the Prince’s man was certain he had Bray’s attention, he nodded in an approving manner, then turned and walked away. Bray checked his impulse to go after the man, jerk him against the wall, and scare the devil out of him.

  Bray didn’t like being followed. If he decided to pursue Miss Prim, it would be because he wanted to, not because the Prince had unscrupulously wagered the Elgin Marbles in expectation of Bray’s nuptials.

  “I certainly don’t want her heart broken by a rogue,” Miss Prim said. “I’ll be sure to speak to her about him. Thank you for alerting me.”

  Bray heard the call for the next dance and said, “You’ll have to excuse me. The next dance will be a waltz, and I need to collect the lady I’ve promised the dance to.”

  “Oh, if it’s a waltz, then I must go meet someone, too.”

  Bray felt a catch in his breath. “Whom are you dancing with?”

  She smiled at him and his stomach clenched. “As if you care? Thank you again for alerting me to Mr. Standish. I’ll guide Gwen in a different direction should she find favor with him. Excuse me, Your Grace.”

  In a flash, she turned and was gone. Bray watched her until she was out of sight. She was right. He didn’t care whom she was dancing with, but he still wanted to know who the man was.

  Bray hadn’t kissed a young lady her first Season in Society for more than a few years now. They were too vulnerable and too impressionable. One kiss, and they thought the gentleman would be asking for their hand in marriage the next day.

  They fell in love too easily, and the simplest attention had them thinking of their weddings and changing their names. So he’d dance with them, smile at them, and share a glass of champagne with them at balls, but he’d long since stopped asking them out for rides in the park or sought to spend time alone with them. Innocents were just too much trouble. He’d had more than a few young ladies burst into tears in front of him when he refused to offer for their hand. He didn’t have to worry about a mistress wanting to leg-shackle him. Discreet affairs had saved him a lot of trouble and the young ladies a lot of heartache.

  But Miss Prim wasn’t like the usual girl her first Season out. She was more mature, yet she could seem so young when she was chasing her sisters through the house or playing blindman’s buff with them.

  Bray claimed the hand of the Dowager Countess of Bloomingville, and they walked toward the dance floor. He had chosen one of the ladies lining the wall for his first dance for as long as he could remember.

  The ritual had started just as a ploy to irritate his father. The late duke had flown into a furious rage after three demanding fathers came to him, thinking Bray was going to propose to their daughters. The duke proceeded to give Bray a long and booming lecture about young ladies making their debut Season and how he must never be alone with them.

  His father was always fearful that an unworthy chit without proper heritage would catch him in a parson’s mousetrap. Bray’s father didn’t care if he had five mistresses and two widows in his bed at one time, but he’d warned him against taking one innocent miss to his bed or to a dark terrace for a romantic interlude. Since his father did not want him to show favor to the young ladies, Bray had started showing favor to the older ladies in retaliation—and they loved it.

  He could still remember the expression on his father’s face the first time he walked over to the line of dowagers, spinsters, and widows. Bray had bowed and kissed their hands and then selected one of them to dance with him. For once, the old duke was speechless. The ladies were in no danger from him nor was he in danger from any of them. It was simply an enjoyable dance for all concerned—and a thorn in his father’s side.

  Bray talked po
litely with the countess as they danced, but every once in a while, he’d catch a glimpse of Miss Prim dancing with the Earl of Bitterhaven. Bray had nothing against the man, except that he didn’t want the earl touching Miss Prim’s back or holding her hand while they danced the waltz. Because they were the same height, the earl couldn’t get his arm up high enough on the turns, so Miss Prim had to duck when she twirled under his arm. Bray didn’t like the fact that she seemed to be having such a grand time either.

  The only good thing was that the earl was a harmless man—or he’d better be.

  Over the next couple of hours, Bray did his duty as the newest duke in the ton and allowed all the pushy mamas to present to him their daughters who were entering Society for the first time. As was expected of him, he asked some of them to dance, though his thoughts and his eyes were constantly searching the dance floor to see which gentleman had next captured Miss Prim’s fancy.

  Since her first dance of the evening with Lord Bitterhaven, Miss Prim had turned into the belle of the ball. She was on the arm of a gentleman for dance after dance. Miss Gwen hadn’t slowed down either. There were more than two dozen young ladies making their Society debut tonight, and he hadn’t seen any one of them dancing as many times as Louisa and her sister. There was nothing like gossip to make Londoners a little curious about a person.

  After more than half a dozen dances, Bray decided he’d paid his dues to Society and the ladies and had danced enough. He went in search of a good stiff drink. Unfortunately for him, the Great Hall served only wine and champagne.

  “You certainly are making a name for yourself tonight, Your Grace.”

  Bray accepted a glass from the server and turned to face Seaton. “You mean I hadn’t done that already.”

  Seaton gave him a rueful glare. “Every set of eyes in the room has been on you and Miss Prim all night, and you’ve both managed to dance with everyone but each other.”