Duke of Decadence

by Tammy Andresen

  That made Eliza’s eyebrows fly up. “No more than you.”

  Christ. She had him there. “Blasphemy has no plans to marry.”

  “Another one, then,” Eliza waved her hand. “You pick.”

  He ran his fingers down his face. “How much more do I need to do for your family?”

  “Not for my family. For Isabella.”

  His mouth tightened. A knowing look sparkled in Eliza’s eyes and he wondered if she were just goading him. To what end, he wasn’t certain. But two could play this game. “Like Menace?” he asked slyly.

  Her face flushed and Bash relaxed. He’d found her soft spot. There was something sizzling between Eliza and Menace. Her nose lifted in the air. “That rake?”

  “They’re all rakes, Eliza. Including me.”

  Her chin dropped back down. “We’ve tossed our cards in with rakes, I guess.”

  He winced at that. The world could be so cruel. “You did.”

  “Think on what I asked you about. I can’t live with the idea that Isabella’s given up her future. If you can think of a better plan, please let me know.” Then she turned and started down the alley.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home. We’ve got a party tonight.” She waved goodbye.

  “How will you get there?” he called back. Eliza was too much, sometimes.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said and then disappeared.

  “That one is trouble,” he muttered as he made his way inside.

  But he didn’t go to bed. Not right away. Because as much as he hated to admit it, Eliza’s plan for Isabella was a good one. And it would kill him.

  Chapter Ten

  Isabella stood next to her sisters watching the array of dancers swirl by in their stunning gowns.

  She slid her palms down her gown. The pale pink was the most beautiful color she’d ever seen, and it highlighted her brown hair and eyes exquisitely. She’d always assumed her coloring to be boring and drab but in this pink…

  The dress fit perfectly, highlighting her narrow waist and slender curves.

  Isabelle glanced up and her gaze clashed with a certain duke’s. Her breath caught. Always handsome, in his evening attire he was breathtaking.

  Her heart stopped for just a moment and then sped up as he crossed the room coming directly toward them.

  Aunt Mildred dropped into a deep curtsy “Your Grace.”

  Her sisters all followed suit.

  Emily snapped open her fan to hide her giggle while Abigail openly ogled Bash. Eliza gave their sister a nudge in the ribs with her elbow. Isabella blinked to realize that the man who’d played such a large part of her life and her fantasies had never met her two younger sisters.

  Which made her sad.

  If he’d been her beau…

  But he wasn’t, she chastised herself. She was the woman who posed as a man to make him money.

  And in return, he was the man who would help her sisters find husbands.

  Aunt Mildred linked her arm with Bash’s. “May I present my nieces.” She went down the row making the introductions as several other men looked on. What was it about a duke that brought so much attention?

  Isabella straightened her spine. “Everyone smiling?” she asked. The sooner her sisters married, the sooner this would all be over.

  “Yes. You’ve asked that three times already,” Emily answered, but she dutifully pulled her lips up into something that resembled a smile.

  “You look like the devil has taken you.” Abigail rolled her eyes. “Relax your face, Emily. No man wants a wife who looks possessed by the devil.”

  Bash chuckled as he eyed the ring of circling men.

  Emily huffed. “This all feels unnatural.”

  “It’s the most natural thing in the world,” Aunt Mildred answered. “Women have been finding husbands this way for centuries.”

  “Have you actually confirmed that fact?” Abigail asked with a cheeky grin.

  Isabella ignored her sisters, her gaze still locked with Bash’s. She saw him grin as his gaze flicked to her sisters and then back to her.

  “Ladies,” he rumbled low and deep. “If you’ll permit me, I shall take you all on a turn about the room. We’re bound to make any number of introductions.” And then he held out his elbow to Isabella.

  She felt her sisters tense. The air about them went from relaxed to charged in a moment as she slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. Where it stayed as several introductions were made.

  More than several…

  If Isabella could have chosen a word, it might have been clamor. Men were clamoring for an introduction to the Carrington sisters.

  All while she stayed tucked next to the Duke of Devonhall. Bash.

  Which suited her absolutely fine.

  His muscles flexed under her fingers as he smiled and nodded and created some oblique family connection between the Carrington girls and himself.

  But several long stares were given to Isabella as she continued to rest on his arm.

  And as she and Bash passed by, she couldn’t help but notice that several fans snapped open as whispers followed behind them.

  She didn’t care, she told herself. In her mind, she was ruined already. But now, everyone would know. Because after the attention he’d paid her, when they didn’t wed…

  She swallowed a lump as her chin dipped.

  “What’s wrong?” Bash asked, his lips leaning close to her ear.

  She jolted in surprise. It was the first time he’d spoken directly to her since they’d arrived. “Nothing,” she murmured back.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  She should say no. They’d created enough of a spectacle. But as she looked up at him, she realized this might be her last chance to dance like this. Held in his strong arms as he spun her about the floor. “Yes.”

  He looked at her hired guardian, who, of course, would agree. Mildred nodded and then Bash swept her out onto the floor. The group of men still stood about her sisters. To their credit the ladies smiled and laughed. Their drawing room was certain to be full tomorrow and for the first time this evening, Isabella relaxed. Of course, they had no servants to attend those guests but that was a problem they’d solve easily enough. As far as dilemmas went, it paled in comparison to others they’d faced.

  She was away from the whispers and the fans and from here, she could see that her sisters would receive plenty of offers. She’d done it.

  That feeling carried to her feet as the dance began and Bash whirled her about in his arms.

  She wished she could press her forehead into his neck and breath in his sandalwood scent. But as her hand rested on his broad shoulder, she remembered the feel of his lips on hers, warm, firm, and tender.

  Her heart constricted.

  “Isabella,” he said, her name in his deep baritone making her sigh.

  “Yes?”

  “You look stunning. You always look beautiful but tonight…”

  She opened her eyes and tilted her chin. “Thank you.” A smile tipped up one side of her mouth. “It feels nice to be in a dress.”

  He chuckled at that and leaned closer. “You should be dressed like this all the time.”

  She didn’t want to think about time, especially not the future. Her smile slipped. “Perhaps.” She looked out toward the garden as they continued to dance. “Let’s not discuss what happens when we leave this dance floor. Instead, I want to just enjoy right now.”

  He was silent as he continued to spin her but as the last strains of music died away, he tucked her hand into his elbow and started guiding her, not toward her family, but out to the terrace.

  “Bash,” she whispered. “Where are we going?”

  “We need to have a more private conversation,” he whispered back, then they stepped out into the cold night air.

  Bash ignored the voice in his head that said he was a fool. That voice had berated him all evening.

  He shouldn’t pay Isabella such special attention
.

  It had been noted. But every time a man glanced her way, he drew her just a little closer.

  Eliza’s words had reverberated in his head all day. Marry her off?

  Absurd. Hadn’t that been one of his stipulations from the beginning? No other man touched her? Now the voice wasn’t calling him a fool, instead, it accused him of being a selfish bastard.

  Maybe.

  Probably. Selfishness was likely another family legacy passed down by his father.

  They stood in the glow of the party, only a few other couples out on the terrace in the cold evening air.

  “What conversation do we need to have?” she asked next to him, her face turned toward the glorious full moon.

  She looked stunning in its light. “Provided your sisters aren’t too picky, they should be engaged before the month is out.”

  She nodded, still not looking at him. “Thank you for your help.”

  He frowned. Did she envy her sisters’ futures for which she’d sacrificed herself? “Once they are attached, your tenure at the club should end.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Have I made enough profits to make the deal worth your while?”

  His lips parted as he pulled back. She was worried about him? Why? She should be concerned about her own future. He leaned closer. “Ten times over.”

  She smiled, just a small one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Good.”

  “What of you? Has it been worth yours?”

  She grimaced. “Of course. My sisters will be taken care of, that’s what is important. That’s what I wanted all along.”

  “And you? If your uncle sells the house, where will you live?”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter—”

  “It matters to me,” he said, his words clipped. He forced himself to relax, to ease the building tension. He and his friends were getting rich, her sisters were getting married. What would she gain from this arrangement? Nothing. No marriage, no family, and certainly a life without luxuries like the beautiful gown she wore tonight.

  “One of their husbands…if I were to guess it will be Eliza’s,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners, “will take me in.”

  His mouth fell open. “That’s your plan?”

  She looked at him then. “It’s not so much of a plan as a…hunch.”

  “Well, I like plans. And that one is awful.” He started moving again. A slow, casual walk toward the shadows so as not to arouse too much suspicion. Though he suspected it was too late.

  “Perhaps my father will return,” she said into the darkness. “He’s a good man. He’ll understand why I did what I did, and he’ll see me cared for.”

  This plan was even worse than the last. Her father was most likely dead, or he wasn’t good at all and didn’t really care for his daughters. “And if he doesn’t?”

  She huffed a breath then. “Have you got a better idea?”

  Yes. Marry her himself.

  The thought popped in his head before he could stop it. He clenched. He couldn’t marry her. She…she was already too close. Peeling past his carefully guarded self. So he borrowed Eliza’s words instead. “You should marry a man who’s a former rake. One who will understand your…colorful actions and know that it doesn’t reflect who you actually are.”

  “You sound like my sister.”

  His lips curled into a small smile. They reached a dark corner and Bash pulled her toward his body. He wished to comfort her. He could feel her sadness underneath the calm exterior.

  But when her face tilted up to his, he cupped her cheek with his hand, his thumb stroking over her bottom lip.

  “Bash.”

  He heard a needy undertone in her voice, almost begging him. But for what? “Yes, love,” he leaned down, his nose brushing hers.

  “I don’t want to think about the future right now. I wish to enjoy the moment.” Her sweet breath caressed his cheek and he found himself lightly brushing her lips with his own.

  He started to move away, but she raised up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his again.

  Her eager touch was like a match to dry kindling. A fire blazed inside him as he slanted open her mouth and began to kiss her with a passion that had been building for weeks.

  She threaded her arms about his neck and returned his touch, stroke for stroke, their tongues and bodies twining together. Desperately, he tried to pull her even closer but the gown he’d been admiring all evening was in his blasted way as he slid his hands down over her behind and pulled their hips together.

  He heard her gasp, the sound causing his body to pulse with need. The pressure was frustratingly exquisite in that he only wanted more.

  He began gathering her skirts in his hand, wanting to map the curve of her ass with his hand and her skirts were padding his touch.

  From out of nowhere, someone bumped into his back.

  Whoever it was was large and strong, and he lurched forward, holding Isabella closer to his chest to keep them both from falling to the stone veranda.

  “Pardon me,” a gravelly voice rumbled and then the figure disappeared into the night.

  Another sound caught his attention. Whispers that were close.

  “Did you see where His Grace went?” one voice asked.

  “I think over there,” another answered. “Was he with her?”

  “Who is she and how did she manage to capture his attention?”

  “She’s pretty but not that pretty.”

  Bash didn’t hesitate. He sank deeper into the shadows, emerging next to a set of doors where he guided Isabella back inside.

  Whoever that stranger was, he’d just saved Isabella from certain ruin. Or a hasty marriage.

  His gut rolled. He couldn’t keep being with her like this. But being around her, his jealousy would get the best of him.

  He had to let her go.

  Chapter Eleven

  Isabella stepped through the back door of the club, mentally preparing herself for the evening. She rubbed her temples as she walked. After Aunt Mildred’s visit to see their uncle, Malcolm had gone silent for nearly a month, but earlier today they’d received a missive that he needed to speak with them right away.

  Eliza had chosen to ignore the message, which filled Isabella with sick dread that she attempted to push to the side.

  She needed to focus, knowing it took a great deal of energy to control a group of rowdy and drunk men.

  The club must have been in full swing, despite the early hour, because she could already hear the raised voices of several men arguing. But as she made her way down the hall, she realized the noise wasn’t coming from the front room but from Bash’s office.

  Her steps slowed as she caught her name. “I don’t give a flying fig what you think. It’s not safe for Isabella to be around degenerates like this on a nightly basis. One of these nights, something bad is going to happen.”

  “Flying fucking fig? She isn’t even here.” Blasphemy grumped. “Why are you using such silly words?”

  “I believe you filled them in nicely,” Bash replied. “Can we discuss the actual topic? She needs to stop dealing.”

  “I disagree,” Menace answered. “She’s making us buckets of money.”

  “As long as you’re happy,” Bash’s voice rose with every word. “Who cares what happens to her?”

  “We’ll see she’s cared for,” Infamy answered, forever calm, cool, and collected.

  “How?” Bash fired back sounding even more agitated.

  Isabella didn’t even pretend to keep walking. She’d stopped in front of the door, covering her mouth as she leaned her ear closer to the door. Not that she needed to be any closer to hear Bash. His voice boomed down the hall.

  “I don’t know, yet.” Infamy answered. She could swear she heard him scratch his chin.

  “It doesn’t matter now, anyhow. It’s a problem for another—” Vanity started but a bang interrupted his words.

  “It’s a problem for right now. We either come up with a s
olution or she never steps foot in this club again.”

  Silence fell and Isabella’s heart stopped as she pressed her fingers to her cheeks.

  Bash was truly worried about her.

  Eliza had been right about the depth of his caring. She could hear the concern in his voice.

  She’d offered herself to him and in return she’d been under his protection but not in his bed. Why hadn’t he taken the bargain? He’d kissed her twice, so he wanted her. That much was obvious.

  And he cared. Why else would he be so vigorously arguing in her defense? The only answer that made sense was that he wanted to protect her.

  She shook her head. Something didn’t make sense.

  But she didn’t have time to listen any longer at the door. The dealer she needed to replace made his way down the hall and she started for her table. It was time to get to work.

  She entered the front room, where several games were already underway, and she glanced to her usual spot, which was filled with the same sort of men she saw every evening. Well-dressed but red-faced and swaying slightly on their feet. Bleary smiles decorating their faces.

  Her gut clenched in familiar unease, but she pushed it back down and headed for her place on the floor.

  Taking her position, Isabella cut the deck and began to shuffle the cards. “The game is Loo,” she said as she glanced around the table. She always kept her voice quiet despite the din of noise. It helped disguise the true sound of her voice.

  Two men rose, clearly looking to play something else so that only four players remained. Three she dismissed from the first. They were drunk and the game would quickly pass them by.

  But the fourth…

  He didn’t appear intoxicated in the least. His hazel eyes glittered with interest as he stared at her.

  Her hand shook and her breath caught as she began to pass out the cards. Why did he look at her like that? Like he saw right through her?

  Did he know she wasn’t a man?

  He said nothing as the hand started but that only added to her unease and she shifted in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. Several rounds passed and she tried to lose herself in the game, in the cards. But it was difficult. His attention was unwavering.