Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night (Rebellious Desires)

by Reid, Stacy

  “I agree,” the countess said, glowering at the sky.

  Rhys scowled when he noted the curricles ahead were being surged to greater speed. What in God’s name was the marquess thinking? Surely, they were not thinking to outrun the rain? The horses surged to greater speed, and the rain came harder. From the darkness of the clouds, the rain had been falling for some time farther west. The slight river they had to cross would perhaps be swollen.

  The dread that tightened in his gut was unwelcomed.

  “I am being soaked,” Lady Wexham wailed, gripping her bonnet. “You will return us at once to the manor, Mr. Tremayne.”

  He ignored her imperious demands and urged the horses forward with careful speed. He made grounds, and he saw clearly as the marquess’s curricle made it first to the narrow bridge and started to cross. What in God’s name was Viscount Trotman doing trying to overtake the marquess?

  Rhys’s shout could not be heard over the slashing rain. There was a heavy, ominous groan, and the curricle carrying Georgiana and the marquess tipped over into the raging waters. There were several screams spilling from the other curricles in the procession. His duchess screamed and was then submerged. Rhys vaulted from the curricle he had brought to a shuddering stop. “Georgiana,” he shouted, shrugging from his coat, and diving into the water without hesitation.

  The gray wash of rain made it difficult to see. He spied the marquess dragging himself up the bank. The man hadn’t even unhitched the horses.

  “Rhys!”

  He whipped his head toward the scream, relief arrowing through him when he spied Georgiana trying to swim against the current. Working with swift strokes, he plunged into the raging, muddied waters to her side and aided her to the bank. Gripping her waist, he pushed her up into her brother’s arms. Rhys hauled himself from the waters, and she flung herself at him, capturing him in a fierce hug.

  “Good heavens, Rhys!”

  Her public display of affection shocked him and blasted hope into his heart. Unless she was simply overwrought and was reacting purely to the sudden intensity of the situation.

  “Oh, those poor dears,” she said in an achingly soft whisper.

  He stiffened. He’d forgotten about the horses. He whirled around to where the duchess stared with such heartbreak on her face. The horses had been valiantly fighting against the churning waters to no avail. Without hesitation, Rhys dived in the river and swam as quickly as he could toward the horses.

  “Will no one else help?”

  The answer to Georgiana’s faint demand was hidden by a clap of thunder. Rhys worked fast, unhitching the horses with grim efficiency, doing his damnedest to ignore the piercing cold and the violent tug of the current. The horses were released, and the frantic animals pushed forward toward the other side of the embankment and with powerful lunges mounted the riverbank to safety. At least some of the blathering idiots on that side took the reins and assisted the animals.

  He swam his way to Georgiana, who hovered with perceptible uneasiness by the bank, uncaring of the rain. A loud roar sounded, and before he could react, the swell of water that powered down pushed him under.

  …

  Georgiana ran along the embankment, eyes frantically scanning the raging waters. Where was he? Oh God, she kicked her slippers from her feet, her fingers flying with nimble speed as she struggled to remove her heavy and sodden gown.

  “What in God’s name do you think you are doing?” Her brother roared.

  From the opposite embankment, ladies and lords were pointing at her, their expressions varying degrees of ill-concealed shock.

  Lord Locksley hurried over to her side. “Georgiana, what is happening?”

  “I’m going back in.”

  “You were just pulled out,” he snapped in evident frustration.

  “Rhys is in there.” Oh God, she couldn’t lose him. She was a strong swimmer and perhaps she could help him from the raging river. No one else seemed inclined to assist, and she could not stand idly by while he… Her throat went tight and tears pricked behind her lids. The very thought of Rhys drowning had rage and panic pumping through her in equal force.

  The marquess noted her intimate use of Rhys’s name and knowledge flared in his eyes. “I see,” he said softly.

  Simon’s eyes watched the water like a hawk. “Why in God’s name would he dive back in for the horses?”

  “Clearly you and everyone believes they are replaceable. But that is the manner of man Rhys is! Kind, sweet, and honorable.”

  “Are you out of your mind? Rhys Tremayne is one of the most dangerous men in England, and you are standing here telling me he is sweet and kind?” Her brother’s voice was stupefied with incredulity.

  Disregarding her brother, she broke into a run, uncaring of the mud splattering against the hem of her dress. She rounded the bend of the river, and a cry slipped from her when she spied Rhys hauling himself from the churning waters. Georgiana sprinted over, and right before she reached his side, she tripped in the mud.

  “What the hell,” he snapped before he lurched and grabbed her, cradling her against his chest and swivelling so he took the brunt of the fall.

  He grunted and twisted, so she was half sprawled atop him.

  “There is a lady fainting across the riverbank,” he said, a mixture of irritation and amusement coating his tone.

  “I hope she lands facedown in the mud,” she retorted uncharitably.

  Georgiana mortified herself by bursting into tears. “You could have drowned,” she wailed, fisting a handful of Rhys’s sopping coat and attempting to shake him.

  “They needed rescuing,” Rhys murmured, his eyes searching her face intently. “Duchess, are you quite aware we are out in the open with several members of the ton ogling us?”

  She breathed in raggedly as she stared back at him. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “I do not care.”

  His fingers slid over her cheeks, his thumb smoothing against her lips. “And why is that?”

  “I love you, Rhys. So much it hurts.” She hadn’t known love could be so powerful, so all-consuming. “I…I was planning to sneak into your room at Lady Chestnut’s manor and confess how much I’ve missed you and without shame try to seduce you.”

  He smiled. “I was blithely informed by my sisters the true objective of a well-organized house party is to engage in scandalous dalliances. I would never have expected it from you.”

  “I’ll be your wife if you still want me.”

  “Still want you? Do I need to breathe?”

  She felt the heat of his skin as her plam cradled the strong line of his jaw. “You’re not cold,” she gasped.

  “Not when you touch me. Are you certain, duchess? This is the only chance I am giving you to think over your declarations. After this, I will not let you go, even if you beg.”

  “I wager scandal will follow us all our lives, and I will be the disreputable duchess who dared to marry only a mister. But I do not care. I love you, and I want to be your wife more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life.”

  He cupped her cheeks, and then her mouth was on his, being thoroughly ravished. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to breathe. He kissed her roughly with a hint of desperation, but it was such a sweet assault. He pulled his lips from hers. “You are kissing the newly minted Viscount Montrose.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I wasn’t leaving anything to chance, my lady. I wanted you and our child more than my next breath, so I bargained with the devil at his court.”

  “You did our king an unmatched favor,” she whispered, thoroughly shocked.

  “I did, and now the crumbling and badly in need of repairs Montrose estate is ours.”

  As a viscount, it would be much easier for him to gain entrance to the elite circles of the ton, and she was quite aware he’d done it for her. Favors usually came with a price. What had he granted the king, and what would be asked of Rhys in return? “Oh, Rhys.” Her throat
tightened, and she gave him a watery smile. “I would wed you without the title, my love. I do not care.”

  “I know that now,” he murmured roughly, his eyes gleaming with primal satisfaction. “We are after all splayed onto a muddy bank with several members of the ton looking on. I cannot be in any doubt,” he drawled teasingly. “If you glance just a little to the left, you will see a small crowd. There is a lot of pointing and whispering, too.”

  She smiled. “There will be cartoons and rife speculations in the papers.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  Her eyes widened. “What did you do?”

  “I collected the darkest secrets of all the editors.”

  “All of them?”

  “I wanted to vanquish all your fears so you would come into my arms without fear or reservation.”

  “Oh, Rhys, there is no need to make enemies for me. Come what may, we will face it together.”

  Those sensual lips smiled, and he nodded, but there was a ruthless glint in his eyes that promised he would ruin anyone who even tried to harm her. What did she do to deserve this man? How marvelous it was to be loved by him so passionately.

  “Let’s get you back to the manor,” he murmured, easing her onto the grass, and pushed himself to his feet with grace despite his awful disarray. He was soaked, and there were clumps of mud in his hair. She couldn’t imagine how ghastly she must appear, and the furor their disheveled presence would cause upon their return.

  She glanced around to see the others had turned around, unable to cross over.

  She felt free, uncaring of their judgment and expectations. She shot a side-glance at Rhys, the love swelling inside her so deep her throat tightened. He met her gaze, and a slow smile curved his beautiful lips.

  I love you, he mouthed, and she laughed softly.

  Rhys came up behind her, his hands spanning her waist, hugging her close. His grip was steady and unbreakable, so gentle. As always, her pulse jumped wildly.

  “You will never have cause to regret being my wife,” he promised. “I’ll love you forever.”

  He splayed his fingers across the span of her stomach. Georgiana turned in his arms, her fingertips gently tracing the hard line of his jaw. “I know. And I’ll never give you cause to regret asking me. I love you completely, Rhys. The rumors will be rabid. Though I am desperate to return to the manor and just slide between the sheets with you, I believe we should attend dinner and announce our engagement,” she said with a wide smile.

  “The uproar will be great,” he murmured.

  “And I don’t give a bloody damn,” she said with pleasure.

  “Ah, my duchess, where have you been hiding that sweet vulgar tongue? Tell me what else is a part of your repertoire.” He kissed her, a mere brush of his lips against hers. “I will lay the world at your feet.”

  “You already did when you loved me so unequivocally.”

  Dear God, happiness is real. And she had found it with this man, and she would not relinquish it for any reason.

  Epilogue

  Ten months later…

  “You will be the most sought-after heiress at your debut, and I promise to try not to be frightening to your suitors,” Rhys murmured lovingly to his three-month-old daughter, Emmeline Elizabeth Tremayne, who chortled happily as if she understood.

  Georgiana laughed and lightly punched his arm, a swell of happiness bursting in her heart. She had expected to find Rhys in the nursery regaling their daughter with some tale, a daily pastime of his that he refused to relinquish despite her tender age. He insisted his daughter anticipated his visits, and perhaps he was correct if her smile and pumping legs were indicators.

  “You will also be the most powerful,” he crooned. “For my arsenal of secrets will be yours, and you’ll have society at your whim.”

  “She most certainly will not,” Georgiana said, laughing, accepting the cherub he placed tenderly in her arms.

  Rhys hugged her from behind, a sigh of contentment issuing from him. They stood like that for a lingering moment while she peered down at her daughter. He pressed his lips against the side of her forehead, tiny little kisses, spreading warmth through her body.

  “I love you, my duchess.”

  She turned slightly, lifting her head to meet the descent of his lips. “I love you, Mr. Tremayne.” He kissed her slowly and quite thoroughly before lifting his head.

  “I have a swim date with Nicolas. Meet me in the southside gazebo in an hour’s time,” he said, winking suggestively.

  Georgiana smiled. They had resumed making love only three weeks past, and every day her husband delighted in ravishing her. They hadn’t stopped being wicked, and she had come to realize their fiery passion would forever burn brightly. Rhys pressed a kiss to his daughter’s forehead, whispering how much he loved her, then sauntered from the nursery. Georgiana strolled with her babe in arms to the windows that overlooked the most glorious sections of the palatial gardens of the stately manor house Rhys had bought in Kent. They were only an hour’s ride away from Meadowbrook Park, and they spent equal time at both estates.

  She smiled when she espied him walking toward the lake with her son atop his shoulders, their dogs bounding happily along. The manner in which Rhys loved her son never failed to amaze her, and Nicolas loved him just as fiercely. Their marriage had caused quite a stir within society, and while many had been judgmental, several influential friends had stood by them. Rhys had also been surprised by the uncompromising support of Lord Mansfield and a few other lords who respected the power and connections he wielded.

  His mother had recently married the Earl of Gaskill, while Lydia rejected two marriage offers, shocking and intriguing society in equal measure. All in all, their family was quite notorious, and Georgiana would have it no other way.

  Shifting her daughter in her arms, Georgiana glanced down. “It’s time for your mamma to tell you a story, my sweetheart. Once there was a duchess who had a cold and lonely heart. She desperately wanted to be happy and thought a prince was her heart’s desire. Then she met the most fearsome of warriors…”

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  Acknowledgments

  I thank God every day for loving me with such depth and breadth. Nothing can take His love from me.

  To my husband, Dusean, you are so damn wonderful. Thank you for the dozens of times you read Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night. Your feedback and support are invaluable.

  Thank you to my wonderful friend and critique partner Gina Fisovera. Without you, I would be lost!

  Thank you to my amazing editor, Alycia Tornetta, for being so patient when I miss my deadlines (which is always) and for being overall a kickass, amazing, wonderful, and stupendous editor.

  To my wonderful readers, thank you for picking up my book and giving me a chance! Thank you. Special THANK-YOU to everyone who leaves a review—bloggers, fans, friends. I have always said reviews to authors are like a pot of gold to leprechauns. Thank you all for adding to my rainbow one review at a time.

  About the Author

  I am an avid reader of novels with a deep passion for writing. I especially love romance and enjoy writing about people falling in love. I live a lot in the worlds I create and I actively speak to my characters (out loud). I have a warrior way “Never give up on my dream.” When I am not writing, I spend a copious amount of time drooling over Rick Grimes from The Walking Dead, Lucas Hood from Banshee, watching Japanese Anime, and playing video games with my love—Dusean. I also have a horrible weakness for ice cream.

  I am always happy to hear from readers and would love for you to connect with me via Website | Facebook | Twitter

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  Happy reading!

  Stacy

  Also by Stacy Rei
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  Accidentally Compromising the Duke

  Wicked in His Arms

  How to Marry a Marquess

  The Duke’s Shotgun Wedding

  The Irresistible Miss Peppiwell

  Sins of a Duke

  The Royal Conquest

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