A Duke Of Her Own-[Rogues and Roses 01]

by Lorraine Heath

  “And how exactly do you plan to accomplish this?”

  Hawk gazed into the fire, watched the flames, dancing and writhing. For Caroline, he vowed, and tossed back the bourbon.

  “As you eluded to some weeks back: by killing two birds with one stone. Miss Rose wishes to experience the passion of my kiss. I intend to be caught delivering it.”

  “Are you certain you’re all right?” Jeremy asked.

  Sitting in the carriage, listening as the wheels clattered over the street, Louisa forced herself to smile. He’d seen her come in from the garden and had been solicitous ever since: fetching her champagne, insisting she dance with him again, making her laugh by sharing funny stories from all his adventures traveling. He’d been jolly good fun and almost managed to make her forget about her encounter with Hawkhurst in the garden.

  “Yes, I’m fine thank you.”

  “I’ve never seen a woman return from a walk about the garden quite so pale. Usually the outdoors puts color back into her cheeks.”

  “It was simply a bit too warm out there.”

  “I thought I saw the duke accompany you through the doors,” Jenny said.

  “He was with me only for a moment,” Louisa said hastily. “He had to leave.”

  “Your brother wasn’t there this evening,” Jenny said.

  “No, I suppose he had other things to do as well.”

  “A pity. I rather liked dancing with him.” She gazed out the window.

  Louisa could not help but wonder what she would say if she knew that her mother had promised Alex that he would not see a penny if he pursued her daughters. Dear Lord, Louisa wasn’t certain if she’d ever met a woman as nasty as Mrs. Rose. Was it all money, titles, and prestige?

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Jeremy said.

  Louisa laughed lightly, wondering if pennies were all this family thought about. “None, really. I’m simply tired.”

  “You’re a lousy liar,” he said, “but I won’t press matters.”

  They rode in silence until they arrived at the Rose residence. Once inside, Jenny said, “Jeremy’s right. You are rather pale.” She took Louisa’s arm. “Come on. Father’s brandy will put the color right back into your cheeks.”

  “I’m not pale,” Louisa protested. “I’m naturally very light of complexion.”

  Jenny smiled brightly and leaned near. “It’s an excuse, Lady Louisa. I want to hear the details of the walk in the garden, and a bit of brandy always makes the telling so much easier.”

  “It was merely a walk—”

  “Shh. Say no more until we are settled in the library,” Jenny said.

  “Am I invited?” Jeremy asked.

  “Of course. You shall do the honors of pouring the spirits,” Jenny said.

  “This is highly improper,” Louisa said.

  “Nonsense,” Jenny said. “It is late. No need to be my chaperone. Be my friend. I could use a friend.”

  Something in her voice made Louisa realize she was serious. “Are you lonely here?”

  “Of course I am. I know so few people, and Kate has withdrawn—” She shook her head. “I love the balls, but it is amazing how lonely one can be in a room filled with people.” She wound her arm around Louisa’s. “Now come, let’s relax with a bit of brandy—”

  “I’ve never had brandy,” Louisa said, allowing Jenny to lead the way. Although she had tasted it in the form of sweets that Hawkhurst had shared with her. She wished she could stop thinking about him, and she feared brandy would only serve to remind her of him. She considered asking for something else to drink, but she didn’t want to appear rude.

  “It’s wonderful for helping one to relax,” Jenny said.

  They went into the library. She and Jenny took seats by the fireplace on the far side of the room, while Jeremy walked to a table of decanters. He handed them each a glass before returning to the table to pour himself one. Then he sat on the couch that was set between the two chairs, lounging with his legs stretched out before him, his jacket and waistcoat scandalously unbuttoned, seemingly quite comfortable and at ease, a position Louisa had never seen a man take. Not even Alex. He lifted his glass. “To uncovering the truth behind the trip into the garden.”

  “I’m not going to drink to that,” Louisa said, smiling at him. She thought he was quite charming. She was halfway tempted to try to find him a wife.

  “So something wicked must have happened there,” Jenny said.

  “No, not at all,” Louisa said quickly. She took a sip of the brandy, quite pleased with the taste, and looked at the empty hearth.

  “Come, Lady Louisa, you are among friends,” Jeremy said. “Did the blackguard take advantage?”

  She jerked her head around. “Of course not. And why do you call him a blackguard?”

  “Is he not?”

  She took another sip of the brandy. It was one thing for her to have a low opinion of Hawkhurst; she didn’t much like that these Americans might, even if the low opinion was well earned. “He was simply curious as to how a gentleman might persuade Jenny that he was of a passionate nature if he never had a moment alone with her.”

  “Excellent point,” Jeremy said. “Too much chaperoning goes on over here as far as I’m concerned. In America, I’ve found it’s quite sufficient for mothers to keep an eye out, fathers to threaten…no need to hire.”

  “Lady Louisa is serving as my social chaperone. While she keeps a more watchful eye than I would like, her main purpose is to guide me away from fortune-hunters and wastrels and guide me toward men of quality. That said, I must state that there are many ways for a man to prove his passion,” Jenny said, returning the discussion to the preferred topic. “A man who is truly passionate would know that. Passion must occur outside the bedroom before it can occur inside the bedroom.”

  Louisa’s cheeks grew warm as she stared at Jenny, then shifted her gaze to Jeremy, who appeared amused. She thought of the passion she’d experienced in the garden. That had certainly taken place outside of a bedroom, but, she realized, only because a bedroom wasn’t near.

  “Tell me, dear sister, what do you know of passion outside a bedroom?” Jeremy asked laconically.

  “I believe the purpose of this late-night gathering was to find out what happened in the garden with the duke.” Jenny finished off her brandy and held out her glass to her brother. “More, please.”

  He quirked a brow, grinned, and shook his head. “Who are you of a sudden? Oliver Twist?”

  “Don’t be difficult. I could make this a ladies’ only meeting.”

  Seemingly without taking offense, he got to his feet and went to the corner to do her bidding.

  Jenny leaned toward Louisa. “Passion is evident in the way that a man holds my gaze as we waltz, the way he holds me in his arms. If you look closely, you can see in his eyes…a burning that causes your flesh to heat long before he touches you. I will go to my wedding bed a virgin, but I fully expect the man I marry to entice me with the promise of passion long before.”

  She moved back as her brother returned with her glass.

  “Whispering secrets?” he asked.

  “Merely explaining what I want from a man. Something I’m certain the Duke of Hawkhurst would have no trouble delivering.”

  Louisa felt decidedly uncomfortable as memories assailed her: his touch, his scent, his groans, his taste, the look of him ensconced in shadows…

  “Interesting. It seems the color has returned to your cheeks with a vengeance, Lady Louisa,” Jeremy said.

  She cleared her throat, shook her head. “It’s the brandy.”

  She took a sip as though to emphasize her point. Hawkhurst wanted Jenny. If he could deliver passion such as he had with his kiss in the garden to a woman he didn’t desire, she feared Jenny might ignite into flames if he got hold of her. “Do you favor him, then?” Louisa asked.

  Jenny raised a brow in an arch that very much imitated the one for which her mother was famous. “Hawkhurst?”

  Louis
a nodded.

  Jenny shrugged. “He is extremely handsome. A fine physique. A marvelous dancer. And he has a bit of the devil in him. I enjoy his company. But I need a bit more wooing before I can claim to favor him.”

  “Wooing,” her brother grumbled. “You do not make it easy for a gentleman.”

  “Nor should we.” Jenny held up her glass. “More.”

  He groaned as he got to his feet. “What of you, Lady Louisa?”

  Louisa downed the brandy in a very unladylike manner and held out her glass. “Yes, please.”

  Perhaps more brandy would wash away the images of Hawkhurst, would ease the pain that had settled into her heart because the kiss he’d delivered had not been for her but had been for Jenny. Louisa was merely the messenger, and she supposed she should take that role to heart.

  Louisa forced herself to lean forward, and say, “Hawkhurst kisses with a great deal of passion.”

  Jenny’s eyes widened. “And how do you know this?”

  “In the garden. He was upset because he could not get you alone, and as a chaperone, I have no one watching me, and so he asked me to deliver the message.”

  Jenny grinned impishly. “So he told you that his kisses are passionate? Any man can make such a claim.”

  Louisa shook her head, more than a little uncomfortable with what she was about to reveal and resenting Hawkhurst for putting her in this uncomfortable position. “He demonstrated quite skillfully.”

  “Who demonstrated what?” Jeremy asked.

  Louisa squeaked, flung herself back, her hand knocking the glass and causing some of the brandy to spill.

  “Damnation,” Jeremy said, stepping back, somehow avoiding having any brandy splash on him. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “It seems Lady Louisa has firsthand experience with the duke’s kisses,” Jenny said.

  “I’m not sure I like hearing that,” he said. “Did he take advantage in the garden?”

  Louisa reached up and took the glass from Jeremy. “Please let’s not discuss it any further. He merely wanted me to plead his case. Which I will not do.”

  “Because you disapprove of him?” Jenny asked.

  “He tends to take pleasure in late nights, heavy drinking, and dallying with an assortment of women. From what I understand, he is unable to commit to even one for any length of time. I think you would be miserable.”

  “But shouldn’t Jenny make that determination?” Jeremy asked.

  Should she? And if she chose Hawkhurst, what then?

  Why did it bother her so to think of him belonging to another? He would never belong to her. Surely, was there not some small part of her that had begun to enjoy his company, had begun to think of him as hers?

  Chapter 13

  H e stood in the corner, watching, waiting, a predator that had sighted its prey.

  He did not try to convince himself that he was not the lowly scoundrel that Louisa had accused him of being. He did not pretend not to know that his soul would rot in hell for eternity because of the actions he was about to take.

  He was not proud of his plan, but then pride was a luxury that a desperate man could ill afford. Jenny Rose was in no hurry to wed, others were in danger of capturing her interest, and Hawk needed to marry in order to provide adequately for those he loved and ensure that he keep his distance from Louisa.

  Fortunately, as a result of some information Ravensley had shared, he knew that Jenny considered it a lark to escape her chaperone for an opportunity to experience a lover’s kiss. While he’d been dancing with her, he’d whispered near her ear that during the sixth waltz of the evening, he sought an opportunity to prove his prowess with a passionate kiss and would be waiting for her in the library to deliver said kiss.

  Ravensley was also aware of the rendezvous. He would lure Jenny’s brother to the library partway through the sixth waltz with an invitation to join him in a glass of Pemburton’s finest brandy. Instead, he would find his sister in Hawk’s arms, his mouth latched upon hers, with the shoulder of her gown pushed down just enough to leave no doubt that his actions, if permitted to continue, would be far from honorable.

  Young Mr. Rose would be incensed on his sister’s behalf. Ravensley would feign being appalled. Miss Rose would be duly embarrassed by being caught in the arms of a cad…and Hawk would be honor-bound to preserve the lady’s reputation.

  Jenny was presently dancing with Falconridge. The next dance was the sixth waltz. It was time for him to prepare to meet his prey. To take the final step toward fulfilling his obligations, to ensuring that he was in a position to protect Caroline.

  “Louisa!”

  The harsh whisper came from behind her. She turned to see her brother barely visible behind the broad leaves of the potted frond. She’d been relieved to see him at Pemburton’s ball. He’d even danced with Jenny. She didn’t like the idea of his moping around simply because Mrs. Rose didn’t think him worthy, and while Louisa might not have considered him acceptable a few weeks before, she was beginning to reassess her evaluation of him as a potential husband.

  He pressed his lips together, rolled his eyes, and jerked his head back, obviously having a desire to speak with her in secret. What was this then?

  She glanced around; everyone was otherwise occupied. She slipped around behind the plant. “What is it?”

  “I needed to speak with you privately.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Obviously. I need to be watching my charges, so what is it?”

  “Actually, it has to do with them.” He closed his eyes. “One of them at least. Jenny.”

  She touched his arm, and he opened his eyes. “I know you must still be feeling the sting of Mrs. Rose’s unkind words—”

  “No, no,” he said hastily cutting her off. “I’m beyond that. My concern now is you.”

  She furrowed her brow. “I beg your pardon?”

  He took her gloved hand in his, his expression earnest. “I know this position means a good deal to you, and that you need nothing untoward to happen, nothing that will challenge your reputation as a trusted chaperone. What you said about my being unsuitable, it was true. I can see that now. I can also see that if you recommend a gentleman who is not of the highest caliber, you risk your ability to continue to serve in this capacity.”

  “I accept your apology.”

  “I’m not apologizing, Louisa. I’m striving to convince myself that what I’m about to do must be done. For Jenny’s sake, but more for yours, because it simply would not do for this travesty to happen under your watch.”

  She furrowed her brow, alarm beginning to skitter through her. “What are you rambling about?”

  “I have never betrayed a confidence, but I fear my friend has put me in a rather unconscionable position. If his plan succeeds, it will ruin your reputation as a chaperone. My loyalty is being tested, but I know that I have no choice except to remain loyal to you, dear sister.”

  “Alex—”

  “Hawk intends to compromise Miss Jenny Rose during the sixth waltz. He has arranged an assignation in Pemburton’s library—”

  “He what?” she interrupted, scarcely able to believe what she was hearing.

  “He has asked her to meet him in the library for a kiss. But I fear it will be more as he has asked me to wait a few minutes. And then I am to bring her brother with the ruse of sampling Pemburton’s fine brandy—”

  “No,” she said, glancing at her dance card. The sixth waltz was next. The strains of the music that accompanied the previous dance were fading. “You have to stop him, Alex. This is not the way to do it, to ensure that she marry him.”

  “He will not listen to me, and if something should happen and she was caught with both of us—you can well imagine that her reputation would be left in tatters and yours along with it. No one will hire you again to serve as chaperone—”

  She waved off those concerns and began to look frantically around the room. She couldn’t see Jenny. She turned back to her brother. “
The library, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do not take her brother there. I will do what I can to extricate Jenny from this situation with no harm to her reputation.” She squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”

  He gave her a funny look that she couldn’t quite decipher: one of guilt or shame. Maybe a little of both, but she had no time to contemplate it further. She had to get to the library as quickly as possible and pray that she wasn’t too late.

  She slipped into the library. Closing the door immersed her in total blackness, the draperies drawn across the windows, no fire flickering on the hearth. Of course. Illicit assignations required darkness. Well, she was here to put an end to that notion. This was a modern house, with electricity recently installed. She needed only find the—

  An arm snaked around her waist and she found herself pressed up against a hard, firm body. Hawkhurst. His scent filled her nostrils, his mouth blanketed hers, and his tongue breached her halfhearted attempt to deny him access.

  Lord help her. She’d not forgotten the magic of his kiss, the heat it generated, the sensations of desire, yearning, and passion that it invoked. She should push him away. Instead, with a soft moan, she drew him nearer, raking her fingers up into his hair.

  She should break free, make him aware that she was not the woman he sought, not the woman he’d planned to ruin, not the woman he intended to marry.

  One more sweep of his tongue, and she would do just that. She would alert him to his mistake.

  One more moment…of feeling wanted, of feeling beautiful, of feeling desired.

  His kiss stirred at her insides, curled her toes, reached deeply, and sent incredible sensations skimming along her nerve endings. His large hand cradled the back of her head, angled it, as his tongue delved deeper, more frantically as though he couldn’t have enough of her.

  Pain speared her heart because she knew it was Jenny whom he thought he could not have enough of. Jenny whom he thought he was holding in his arms. Jenny whom he wanted so desperately that he was willing to compromise her in order to ensure that he possessed her for all eternity.