The Temptation of the Duke (Regency Romance)

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  Evan bid the men adieu and then made his way toward home, hoping to find his wife awaiting him. Perhaps naked in their bed. He smiled at the thought. Purely wishful thinking, of course, but one could hope.

  “Somerset!”

  Damn. Just when he was almost home…

  He spun around to find a man practically sprinting toward him—his solicitor, of all people. “Starke,” he said by way of greeting. “What the devil are you doing?”

  The man approached, gasping for air, and said between gulps, “I was on my way to see you, Your Grace. Nothing major, really.”

  Evan was skeptical. “You came all the way to see me for ‘nothing major’?”

  “I was passing through the area, actually. Thought I’d let you know the estate seems in good order, and Ballyston Court will be ready for you and your new bride by the time the Season is over in a couple of weeks.” They started walking toward Somerset House and the man glanced sideways at Evan. “And where are you coming from?”

  “The club,” Evan said. “My wife had one of her ladies’ meetings today, so I spent the afternoon with my new brothers-in-law.

  “Hm. Strange.”

  Evan glanced at him. “Is it?”

  Starke seemed to come to, as if just realizing he was being vague. “Oh, no. Of course not, Your Grace. It’s just…well, I could have sworn I’d seen your town coach in Seven Dials just a bit ago. I did think it rather strange, but seems I was just seeing things, doesn’t it?”

  Sevend Dials? “Must have been,” Evan agreed, though he had a sneaking suspicion Starke hadn’t been seeing things at all. But why on earth would Grace have gone to that godforsaken part of town? “Anything else, Starke?”

  “Oh, well, I’ve a few papers for you to sign, is all. I brought them with me—”

  “Actually, I’ll come down to your office tomorrow,” Evan cut him off, eager to get inside and make sure his wife was safe and sound before he castigated her for going to Seven Dials alone. “I’ve just remembered something I need to do.”

  He was so distracted he couldn’t even come up with a good excuse for shooing his solicitor away so quickly.

  “Yes, of course, Your Grace,” Starke said, still keeping pace with him. “Until tomorrow then.”

  Evan tipped his hat, but didn’t slow down. “Good day, Starke.” He was at the steps of his townhome within moments, and he bellowed for Grace as soon as he stepped foot through the door.

  “Heavens, Evan,” she said, coming out of the front parlor. “There’s no need to shout, darling.”

  Damn her, she was far too beautiful—it made it rather difficult to maintain his anger. So, he looked straight ahead instead, and pointed toward the back of the house. “My study, please.”

  “But—”

  “Now.”

  Her emerald eyes rounded to the size of saucers, but she didn’t try to argue anymore. She simply closed the door to the parlor behind her, which Evan now realized harbored afternoon guests, and padded quietly to the study.

  “Have a seat,” he said, as they entered the room, and he slid the door closed behind him.

  “I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”

  Stubborn girl.

  “Fine,” he said, rounding his desk and leveling her with his most intimidating ducal stare. He’d not had to use it on her yet in their marriage, and he hated to do it, but he had to know what she was doing in Seven Dials today, and he’d not let her charm her way out of telling him. “I suppose you can tell me about your little outing either way.”

  Ha! Her cheeks turned to pure crimson. “You mean…to my sister’s?”

  Evan smiled tightly. “No, darling. I know all I need to know about what goes on in your sister’s drawing room. I want to know why you were in Seven Dials today.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes grew wide. “But ho—”

  “I have eyes everywhere,” he lied.

  “You sent someone to spy on me?” she asked, clearly affronted by the idea.

  But he’d not let her turn the tables. “So what if I did? Someone has to keep you safe while you hare off to God knows where.”

  “Did your spy also tell you that I was chasing down your sister?” Her voice was raised and her expression mutinous. Clearly, she didn’t appreciate the idea of being followed, but now he’d told the lie, how could he back out of it?

  “My sister?” he repeated, trying to buy time. “What the devil was she doing there? Blast you harebrained women!”

  “Only one of us was harebrained. I was simply trying to find out what was going on with her.” She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing Evan’s attention to her breasts. Did they seem bigger today, or was it only because her arms pushed them up? He blinked and then looked up to meet her eyes. “See something of interest?” she asked, batting her lashes at him.

  Damn. He’d been caught. “Did you figure it out?” he asked, ignoring her question.

  “No. She went into an unmarked shop and came out fifteen minutes later, seemingly the same. I’ve no idea what she was doing in there.”

  Evan’s anger was quickly dissipating, and now he knew the truth, he wanted to carry his wife up to bed and apologize for behaving like an ape. Without words, of course. “Will you ask her?”

  Grace shrugged and dropped her arms to her sides. “Perhaps.”

  Evan flicked his head in the direction of the parlor. “Who’s in there?”

  “Your mother’s friends.”

  “So you don’t need to return?”

  A small smile tugged at the edges of Grace’s lips. “I don’t think I’ll be missed in the least.”

  Thank God. “Good. Come with me.”

  Nineteen

  The sound of knocking at their door drew Grace slowly from her peaceful sleep. She blinked her eyes open, only to realize she couldn’t see a blasted thing. When had night fallen? Last she remembered, she and Evan had enjoyed quite the afternoon tousle, but they must have fallen asleep immediately after.

  “Evan,” she whispered, grabbing her husband’s steely arm and shaking him as best she could. “Evan, wake up.”

  “Mmmm…” He rolled over and attempted to pull her into his embrace with a sleepy smile.

  Grace pushed him away, and said more firmly, “Evan. Wake. Up.”

  The knock came again.

  “What time is it?” he asked, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.

  “I’ve no idea, but someone is at the door.”

  “Enter!” Evan called out, and Grace, in a panic, pulled the covers over her naked body.

  “For heaven’s sake,” she scolded him. “Couldn’t you go to the door yourself?”

  “In all my glory? Hardly.”

  The door opened and Evan’s valet stepped into the room, carefully averting his eyes from the bed. “I tried to scratch, Your Grace, but you didn’t hear it, so—”

  “What is it, Archie?” Evan asked, wanting him to get to the point.

  “Your Grace, I’m afraid you must come quickly. There’s been…an accident.”

  “An accident?” Evan and Grace repeated the words at the same time.

  “Your sister is in the parlor, with your mother. I do think you ought to come quickly.”

  Grace’s heart raced with worry. What in the world could have happened? And did it have anything to do with Hannah’s trip to Seven Dials that afternoon?

  She and Evan dressed as quickly as possible and then practically ran down the stairs to the first floor. As promised, the dowager duchess was there with a rather distraught Hannah. Her beautiful sister-in-law looked as if she’d been through a tragic hurricane, with her moistened face and hair all askew. Good heavens.

  “Bunny, what’s happened?” Evan rushed to her side.

  When it was obvious the woman was unable to speak, he gathered her in his arms and looked to his mother.

  The dowager sighed and pinched her lips together. “The only thing I’ve been able to get out of her is that there’s been an
accident to do with Beeston. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive, and I certainly don’t know the extent of the circumstances.”

  Grace met her sister-in-law’s tortured gaze, and her heart twisted on her behalf. “Perhaps I could have a moment alone with Hannah?”

  She’d confided in her once before; perhaps she’d do it again. Hannah nodded, and in the next moment, Evan was escorting his mother from the room. When the door clicked behind them, Grace crossed the floor and sat down beside Hannah, taking both her hands in hers. Neither of them said anything—Grace wouldn’t force her to share—she would wait until Hannah was ready.

  She waited what felt like hours; though in reality it might have only been a few minutes.

  “B-beeston,” she said, nearly choking on her sobs, “m-might be…d-dead.”

  It was what Grace had feared the most, of course. No, that wasn’t exactly true. It wasn’t a very charitable thought, but if Beeston were to die, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen. What she actually feared the most was that Hannah might have killed him. If she were found guilty, her sentence would not be lenient. It was one thing to be the sister of a duke; it was another to murder a Peer, no matter how deplorable a man that Peer was.

  Shoving away images of her sister-in-law at Tyburn, Grace squeezed her hands even tighter and focused her efforts at acquiring all the details she possibly could.

  “Might?” she echoed.

  “I saw him lying there,” Hannah said. “But I was too afraid to check for certain.” She dissolved into another wave of fresh tears.

  “But then…why are you so upset?”

  Hannah averted her eyes and said in an almost inaudible voice, “Because I think I might have killed him.”

  Grace’s stomach twisted. “Hannah, you must tell me everything, starting with what Mrs. Finch said to you and why she sent you to Seven Dials.”

  She reared back with a little gasp. “How do you know about Seven Dials?”

  Normally, Grace might have been sheepish to admit she’d followed her, but this wasn’t a time to be timid. “Because I followed you.”

  “Followed me?”

  “I knew you were up to something—I could feel it in my bones. My curiosity got the best of me, and I’m not sorry about it. Now,” Grace lifted her sister-in-law’s chin so she was forced to look at her. “Tell me. Everything.”

  Hannah took several deep breaths before finally acquiescing. “After my little outburst at the meeting, Mrs. Finch took me to the library and we had a good talk. She was eager to reassure me there was nothing I could do—and indeed, I had done nothing wrong—in terms of my wayward husband. That some men were simply…like that. Obviously, I wasn’t satisfied with that, so I insisted she help me woo him back to my bed. After she showed me some rather shocking images of…of…”

  “Lovemaking?” Grace provided.

  Hannah nodded. “After that, she sent me to an apothecary in Seven Dials, who specializes in…accoutrements.”

  “Accoutrements,” Grace echoed.

  “Yes, you know? Things to…” Hannah’s cheeks turned redder than Grace had thought possible. “Assist.”

  Although Grace had a million more questions on that particular topic, she needed Hannah to get to the point. “So, what happened?”

  “He didn’t like it.” Hannah shook her head in disbelief. “He called me a whore, and then…” Tears choked her, forcing her to pause and gather herself. “H-he charged at me. He’s never done that before. As cruel as he’s been to me, he’s never threatened bodily harm.” Her hands shook wildly. “I was frightened, so I grabbed the only thing in my reach—a candlestick.”

  “Good heavens, did you bludgeon him to death?” Grace whispered, half horrified and half impressed.

  “I don’t know! I swung at his head, and he fell. I didn’t stop to see if he was all right, I only ran.”

  “Hannah,” she said gently. “My dear, sweet sister.”

  Hannah stared at her, her brown eyes heavy with worry. “Women have hung for lesser crimes.”

  Some had hung for no real crime at all, Grace was certain. Her lovely country had quite a blood thirst that very few wanted to speak about. Truthfully, she didn’t care to speak about it either, though the injustices ate at her whenever she thought of them.

  “Hannah, you will not hang for this. Besides, we don’t even know if Beeston is truly dead.”

  The muffled sounds of banging at the front door permeated the quiet parlor and made both women startle a bit.

  “They’ve come for me already!” Hannah’s panic seemed to be contagious, for Grace was becoming rather frantic herself.

  “Wait here,” she instructed her sister-in-law, and then she ran across the room and slid the door open just enough to peek her head into the corridor. The obvious sounds of Beeston’s voice reached her ears, filling her partly with relief and partly with dread.

  “Where is she?” the man demanded.

  From behind her, Hannah whispered, “Beeston! He’s alive!”

  Grace couldn’t be sure if that was excitement or terror in her voice, but she hushed her sister-in-law either way with a wave of her hand.

  The butler hemmed and hawed for a moment before Evan arrived from the other direction, his posture imposing and dangerous. Grace’s heart strummed so loudly in her ears, she almost couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  “Hannah, where the bloody hell are you? You have a great deal of explaining to do!”

  “What seems to be the trouble, Beeston?” Evan’s tone was even, but his expression was menacing. He nearly backed the shorter man into the front door.

  “Your sister’s a bloody whore, that’s the trouble!” He leaned around Evan and called for her again. “Hannah!”

  “How dare you,” Evan thundered. “How dare you speak of my sister in such a way? And in my house, no less.”

  “She’s my wife. And I speak the truth. And look what she’s done to me!”

  Grace wished she could see, but she could only imagine the damage a candlestick might do to one’s head.

  “I’m sure whatever she did was well deserved,” Evan said.

  “When I tell you what she did, you’ll know I’m right. She’s a whore and a murderer!”

  “Watch yourself, sir, or you shall find yourself on the field of honor in the morning.”

  No. Grace’s heart raced. What was he thinking? Did he mean to get himself killed?

  “Are you calling me out?” Beeston asked, and that blood thirst Grace had thought of earlier was evident in the man’s eyes.

  Bloody hell.

  “Do you retract what you said of my sister?”

  Beeston rose up to his full height and practically spit in Evan’s face, “Never.”

  “Then choose your second, sir.”

  ~*~

  Evan had had enough of his odious brother-in-law for one night, but with any luck, it would be the last night he’d ever have to deal with the man. For now, he grabbed him by his untidy cravat, pulled the door open behind him, and tossed him out on his arse. Then he slammed the door behind him with what should have been relief, but his body practically burned with the desire to open the door again and pummel the living daylights out of him. Of course, his wife put a quick stop to that.

  “What in God’s name are you thinking?” she shrieked, coming out from the parlor, her green eyes wild with fury.

  “Do not get in the way of this, Grace,” he said, hopefully with some finality to his tone.

  “Oh, I will get in the way,” she countered. “I’ll stand in the middle of the bloody field if I have to.”

  “It is something I have to do.”

  “Is it?” Her voice was nearing a bellow. “Why? Because you still feel guilty about your sister having to marry him?”

  Hannah appeared behind Grace, her brown eyes wide with sadness and regret. “Evan, please,” she said. “Grace is right. You don’t have to do this.”

  “It is done already.”

&
nbsp; “No, it’s not.” Grace’s tone pleaded with him to change his mind.

  But he wasn’t going to change his mind. Whatever his sister had done, it couldn’t have warranted such words about her. Besides, Grace was right about one thing. He still felt guilty, and it was his one and only opportunity to make things right for Hannah.

  Obviously, his silence served as his answer, and after a long moment, Grace took Hannah by the hand. “We’ll sleep in the yellow room tonight,” she announced.

  “Grace, wait—”

  “Goodnight, Evan.”

  They climbed the stairs arm-in-arm, leaving Evan alone in the entry hall.

  “Evan.”

  He turned to find his mother standing by the entrance to the parlor. She’d not called him by his given name since he was a boy. It was odd, and somehow comforting.

  “Not now, Mother.”

  “I only wish to say that…” She cleared her throat and averted her eyes. “I am proud of you.”

  After he got over the initial shock of her words, he laughed. “Of all the cursed things for you to be proud of, this is what you choose?”

  “I’ve never much cared for Beeston,” she went on. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

  “Heavens, Mother, that was almost warm of you.”

  Her expression sharpened back to its usual hideousness. “Don’t become accustomed to it.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  Twenty

  Grace didn’t sleep a wink that night. She missed her husband, no matter what an impulsive, unthinking nodcock he was. And furthermore, her sister-in-law tossed and turned the night through, clearly having a fitful sleep, too. It was just as well, though. She wanted to be there, on the field with her husband. She’d watch from the safe confines of the carriage, of course. Evan wouldn’t have it any other way. But still…she’d be there.

  She and Hannah dressed in silence and then made their way downstairs. It was still dark as pitch outside—the sun wouldn’t rise for another hour or so. They sat down to breakfast, but neither of them ate. Grace only pushed her food about her plate. Why had she’d put any food upon it in the first place? Hannah sipped quietly from her teacup, but didn’t attempt to eat.