Duke of Decadence

by Rand, Violetta

  He joined her on the bench, straddling it and facing her.

  She felt her cheeks heat as she tried to avoid his direct gaze.

  “Julia,” he said quietly. “Are you afraid to look at me?”

  “No, Your Grace. I am afraid of what you are going to say.”

  He chuckled, but not to make her feel uncomfortable, for it was a warm and tender laugh.

  “These last three weeks have been eventful for us, have they not?”

  She looked at him. “Yes.”

  “I believe we have gone from enemies to friends, perhaps even more.”

  Oh, yes. There was deep affection developing between them. She could feel some kind of magnetic force pulling her to him, a force she could not fight or withstand much longer. “You have taught me so much in such a short period of time.”

  “Have I?”

  “I judged you harshly,” she confessed, “because you are part of the ton. Had you been a commoner, I would have treated you more fairly. For that, I am sorry.”

  He reached for her, and she linked fingers with him, liking his big, strong hand resting over hers.

  “You have apologized to me before. There is no need for it now. We have both made mistakes with each other. At first meeting, I wanted to seduce you.”

  She arched a brow at him. “And you seek my forgiveness for that? Have you changed your mind about seducing me, Your Grace?”

  His blue eyes turned stormy and dark as he let out a combination of a growl and chuckle. “Do you even know what you are asking?”

  “I know what it felt like to be in your arms and to have your lips on mine.”

  He closed his eyes and raised his head, looking as if he was praying. “You are a living contradiction, Lady Julia. Innocent yet bold—sure of what you want.”

  His praise gave her courage. “Until I met you, there has never been I man I hoped to kiss.”

  He smiled. “Now who is flattering who?”

  “I am being honest with you.”

  “I know, sweet Julia. That is why we are here. I would like to court you.”

  She could not believe it, yet at the same time, she could. A myriad of emotions rushed through her—joy and relief with a touch of fear. Concern that his past—that past being a beautiful woman named Madeline Hershey—would come back to haunt him and destroy her affection for him.

  He curled a finger under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “You are afraid.”

  She nodded.

  “I know your father has demanded you find a husband.”

  “Who revealed that to you?”

  “The dowager countess.”

  “I wish…”

  “She loves you, Julia. Wants what is best for you, as she does her own daughter.”

  “I know. I wanted to tell you myself, once we figured out how we felt about each other.”

  He leaned toward her, drawing her to his chest, embracing her, wrapping her in his strength and warmth—his well-tethered passion.

  “We are well-matched,” he said. “Both raised to understand and respect the demands of our positions.”

  “Yes.”

  “We both have suffered the loss of our beloved parents—and you wish for a sister. I have three to spare, Lady Julia.”

  She could not contain her glee at that remark and rewarded him with a smile. “I would welcome their affection.”

  He hovered close to her face then, his eyes heavy with emotions. “There is a spark between us.”

  “I feel it.”

  “I want to taste it,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers, his hand slipping to the nape of her neck and holding her close, so very close.

  She lifted her hand to his cheek, loving the feel of the stubble. Their tongues circled wickedly, and that spark he had spoken of ignited into insatiable need—an all-consuming fire. One of his hands slid down her bodice and cupped her breast. Her nipples were already pebbled from the chill in the air, but his touch added an ache. She moaned into his mouth as he caressed her breast, then gently pinched her nipple.

  “Julia,” he whispered her name with such reverence, such care.

  Greedy to keep kissing him, she pressed her lips to his again. Yes—everything she had ever wanted in a man—from all the books she had read about passionate love—all the dreams she had. It was happening to her now.

  He pulled back. “Julia. Perhaps we should forgo the courting and set a wedding date. I do not know how long I can wait to have you.”

  His confession, the strain in his voice, the conflict in his beautiful eyes, it moved her, changed her immediately. “My father…”

  “Will not contest our engagement, I am sure.”

  “We should write to him, ask him to join us posthaste.”

  They connected again, her hands moving wildly over his muscled arms and back, and his hands over her breasts and hips.

  “I could kiss you forever,” she said.

  “Wait until I show you what I could do to you forever.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Engaged?” Willa’s mother asked with excitement.

  Julia had joined her and Willa in their chamber after the duke and she had walked back to the house after the rain had stopped. She nodded and smiled, so very happy for the first time since her mother had died.

  “I am breathless, Julia,” the dowager countess said. “Your father will be very pleased. No one could have hoped for a better outcome. You will be a duchess of a very impressive estate. Are you sure about him?” She took Julia’s hands.

  “Yes,” Willa said. “You must have no doubts about him. Do you love him?”

  Yes, she loved him. But could she say it aloud? Was she ready to let the world know how hard and fast she had fallen for a duke of debauchery? Would she be whispered about behind her back, called a fool for loving him?

  “Willa,” the dowager said, “must you always be so intrusive to Julia?”

  “Mother—we have never withheld anything from one another.”

  “Our dear girl has never been in love before,” the countess said. “It’s of no consequence, really. Love may come later, or it might not. As long as you can trust and respect the man, and have something in common with him, that will see you through the years as you grow old together.”

  Julia appreciated her wisdom. “I both trust and respect the Duke of Pridegate. More importantly, I do love him.”

  Her best friend squealed and threw herself at Julia. “Oh, Julia, I am so very happy for you. For you both.”

  “Thank you.” She hugged her friend. “We wish to keep it a secret until my father arrives from London.”

  “You have summoned the duke already?” the countess asked, surprised. “That makes this a very serious thing then.”

  “Why are you blushing, Julia?” Willa asked.

  She looked away from the women she loved. “We do not wish to delay the wedding.”

  “You haven’t…” the countess stopped herself from finishing the question.

  “No… though I wanted to.”

  “Julia!” The dowager countess looked stunned and sat down on the edge of her bed. “What an outrageous thing to say.”

  “I do not wish to live a life where I cannot say how I feel. The duke has taught me that the best.”

  “Child, you must never speak such things in front of strangers. Imagine what people would say…”

  “You and Willa are not strangers.”

  “Perhaps I have been too permissive about what the two of you read and where you go.”

  Willa shook her head. “Mama, you could never make me live in a cage.”

  “Maybe not, dear, but I think we best find you a husband soon.” She fanned herself with her hand, her cheeks red. “Now, let us all take naps so we are fresh for the ball tonight. The masquerade is in just a few days, but tonight a few of the local gentry will be joining us. I want to look my best.”

  Julia turned to go.

  “Where do you think you are going, child?�
��

  “To my chamber.”

  “I think not. I would feel better if you stayed here. There is a duke on the loose in this house who would think nothing of sneaking into your room, I think.”

  Willa and Julia both laughed.

  “Of course I’ll sleep here,” Julia said. “Whatever must be done to protect my virtue, I am happy to do.” She kissed the dowager’s cheek. “Thank you for everything you have done for me. I love you both so much.”

  *

  “Engaged to be married?” Graham asked, shocked.

  “Yes. You are familiar with that purposeful institution, are you not?”

  The earl threw his friend a mock scowl. “Never underestimate me, Alonzo. I am a useful bastard and a rogue.”

  “Will you not congratulate me on my good fortune?”

  “I am envious of you, old friend. She is the perfect mate for you in every way.” He extended his hand, and the duke gripped it with pleasure.

  “I am a happy man, Ganes. A very happy man.”

  “Have you written to her father to break the news?”

  “I have done better than that. I just sent an invitation to him by special messenger, asking him to join us here.”

  There were sparks of mischief in his friend’s eyes. “Why such a hurry?”

  “I wish to be wed to Lady Julia by week’s end. Stanhope has agreed to let us marry here. This must remain a secret until her father arrives and Madeline and her brother are gone. I do not want anything to ruin our special day.”

  Ganes drummed his fingers on the table. “How soon can you get Madeline and her brother to leave?”

  “Within a day or two, why?”

  “Let us just say, Madeline and her brother have not made it easy for the guests to ignore her desire to marry a man with a title. She has promised fifty thousand pounds as a dowry—sixty if you will have her.”

  “Christ!” His mood grew grim instantly, and he raked his fingers through his hair. “After everything I told her—advised her to protect her money instead of flaunting it and spending it so carelessly. She is determined to ruin me, I think.”

  “How could she? Does she have anything to hold over you, Farrington?”

  He thought about it, carefully sifting through all the memories he had of them together in France. No, he had made no promises to her and had handled her with respect. She was the one who had broken trust and tried to force him into a life he did not want.

  “There is nothing, Ganes.” He sighed. “But you are right about one thing, our indiscretions are finally catching up with us.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Excitement filled the air as Julia slowly walked down the stairs. She had dressed with new purpose tonight, wanting to leave her betrothed with nothing on his mind but her. Her white, muslin gown had the most delicate blue flowers embroidered across the top, accentuating the low-cut bodice that complimented her full breasts. Her hair had been swept to one side with long curls and decorated with blue and silver ribbons. The choker at her throat had pearls and sapphires to match her dress.

  Willa and her mother followed behind, lending her their support—for part of Julia still wanted to run away and hide from all the changes in her life.

  The duke met her at the bottom of the stairs, bowing gallantly and offering her his hand. Delight shined in his eyes as he drank her in, his smile filled with promises of more kisses and more caresses once they were alone.

  Couples were already dancing in the ballroom, an exquisite space with crystal chandeliers, a highly-polished parquet floor, Greek columns, and more marble statues of nymphs and gods and goddesses. Though these figures were fully clothed! The small orchestra occupied a balcony overlooking the ballroom, and the music affected Julia almost as deeply as Alonzo’s singing did.

  “Would you care to dance, Lady Julia?” he asked as they walked together.

  She had never had the pleasure of dancing with her duke, and imagined he was an elegant dancer. Before she could answer, the orchestra began to play a waltz, and Alonzo swept her into his arms and into the middle of the room. Four sets of French doors were opened, letting the cool breeze in, and when she was sure she should be overly warm, she wasn’t—not from the temperature in the room anyway.

  They moved as one, for Julia had always been a capable dancer and enjoyed the intimacy of the controversial waltz. If she and the duke were able to be any closer, she felt as if she would be inside of him, a part of him, and that made her close her eyes and envision what it would feel like to be his wife, his duchess.

  As the last few notes were played, Alonzo’s eyes took on that hungry look again, that stony expression that represented one of two things, anger or passion.

  “You must know,” he whispered near her ear, lingering on purpose and blowing ever so gently as to send a shiver up her spine. “That you are more beautiful than any of Stanhope’s stone nymphs or goddesses. If I could strip you bare and worship you right here, I would.”

  She licked her lips, feeling parched. “You would worship me in front of all of these people?”

  “I would make love to you as if it were the last day of my life, Julia. I want nothing more than to be inside of you.”

  His words melted her insides, causing a riot between her legs, making her squirm in his arms. “You shouldn’t speak to me like that in such a public place, Your Grace.”

  “No? Why not? You are to be my wife, and I bloody well want you to know what to expect on our wedding night.”

  She gazed up at him, lost in his eyes, lost in the honesty of his words.

  “What other reason to marry by special license? I cannot contain it much longer, Julia. I feel like a barbarian—like I could devour you in one bite.”

  “Your Grace,” she said. “The music has ended and we are the only people standing in the middle of the ballroom.” Embarrassment had Julia looking in every direction to see who was watching them.

  The Duke of Stanhope and his sister were smiling at them, so were other guests, but it was Madeline and her brother that made her feel uncomfortable. Miss Hershey looked like she wanted to commit murder, and Mr. Garland had his arms crossed over his chest and was shaking his head at her. She had made a spectacle of herself, and if word reached her father…

  “Please,” she whispered, “let us leave the ballroom.”

  “Of course.” He escorted her to a set of French doors, stopped to exchange niceties with several guests, then pulled her outside. “What is wrong?”

  “They were all staring at us.”

  “Yes, because they know how we feel. We cannot hide it much longer, my sweet. Love has a way of taking over your body and soul.”

  Had she heard him correctly? “Love?”

  “Yes, Lady Julia Castle. I love you.”

  She closed her eyes, breathing in his masculine scent. Perfect. A sense of peace settled over her as she opened her eyes and stared up at him. “I am in love with you, Your Grace.”

  “I know,” he said.

  She slapped his arm playfully. “You are the most arrogant man I have ever met.”

  “Come with me.” He again tugged her away from the guests and down the stairs and onto the lawn. Only when they were out of sight of the balcony did he stop and turn toward her. “Julia.” He dropped to his knee, something in his hand. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my love and duchess?”

  She covered her mouth with both hands—breathless and overwhelmed with love. “Yes,” she cried.

  He stood and presented her with the perfect ring: two, pear-shaped stones, a sapphire and diamond set in gold. She held out her hand, and he slipped the delicate ring down her finger.

  “It is a perfect fit, Your Grace.” She gazed at it, mesmerized by its meaning and beauty.

  “The ring belonged to my mother,” he said. “She would have wanted you to have it.”

  “But how did you know to bring it to the house party?”

  “I didn’t. I sent my valet back to London to get it
for me.”

  “Thank you, Alonzo. I will cherish it forever. I will cherish you forever.” She threw her arms about him, holding on for dear life.

  “What have we here?” A feminine voice stole their moment of happiness.

  Alonzo swept Julia behind him and faced her. “What do you want, Madeline?”

  “I want you to acknowledge the truth about why I am here.”

  “Haven’t I already done that? You came here to make my life miserable, to force me to marry you.”

  Anger boiled up inside of Julia. She wanted to confront this woman and tell her where she could go. Alonzo belonged to her now, but she held her tongue. Her betrothed wanted to handle Miss Hershey.

  “I thought marriage would save the both of us from further scandal.”

  “What are you talking about, woman? No one cares about what we were to each other years ago.”

  Julia moved to stand beside him.

  “They will care about this.” She offered him a silver locket.

  Alonzo snatched it from her fingers and opened it. Julia gazed at the miniature of a tiny boy’s face with the bluest eyes and dark, curly hair.

  “What is this, Madeline?”

  “Do you not know, Your Grace? Can you not see the resemblance? You have a son—Devon.”

  The news punched Julia in the chest and stole her breath. She could forgive Alonzo for anything from his past. But how could she stand in the way of an innocent child having his father, a chance at being a family? To be sure of what Miss Hershey claimed, she took a closer look, a critical look at the likeness of her child. Pain exploded in her head. There was no denying it, the boy looked like his father.

  “Julia.” The duke took her by the arms and turned her to face him. “She cannot be trusted.”

  Julia reached up and placed her fingers on his lips to silence him. “I do not blame you, Alonzo. You didn’t know.” She swung about and glared at Madeline. “You are no better than a shark—a predator set on destroying his life and mine.” She turned back to her duke. “You must do the right thing, Your Grace. Give the boy your name, protect him from this cruel world—from being called a bastard every day to his face—marry Miss Hershey and try to be happy.”