She covered his hand with hers. Warmth soaked in from the contact all the way to his heart. For a mad instant, he almost tore off their gloves and touched her hand-to-hand, cheek-to-cheek, lip-to-lip.
Softly, she asked, “What would happen, do you think, if you failed to live up to that ideal?”
“I’d disappoint her. That alone would be unbearable. And I’d disappoint everyone who relies on me to do it right—my younger brother and sister, their children. I’d be a failure.”
“Don’t you think that’s only a natural part of being human—having weaknesses?”
“I’m a duke. I’m not allowed to have weaknesses.”
“Everyone has weaknesses.” The softness in her eyes became almost too difficult to bear.
He let out a long, slow breath. “I do have a terrible weakness. My grandfather on my mother’s side was Italian—hot-blooded and passionate. He dueled a dozen men, killing over half of them, and had a dozen lovers, leaving illegitimate children scattered over four countries. In the end, his temper proved his undoing. He started a fight, and his opponent killed him. If I let go of my self-control, I’ll be just like him.”
She said nothing for a moment, just sat there squeezing his hand. “You aren’t like that. And you won’t become that, not even if you let go once in a while.”
“I might. Look how I behaved at the ball. I kissed you, someone I’d only just met, and I drew a sword.”
“Well, then, clearly the answer is to avoid masques. And pirates.” A teasing light entered her soft brown eyes.
He shook his head, uncomfortably aware of how much he’d confided in this sweet girl. “Most of my friends don’t know anything I told you.”
“Do you have the wrong friends, or do you have an aversion to allowing them to see the real man inside?”
He hesitated. “I’m not certain.”
“I’ll keep your confidence,” she said gravely.
He gazed at the lovely lady next to him. How could he could have been so foolish as to have overlooked her before? At first he’d been blinded by his quick assessment that she was too young and shy and awkward. He’d almost missed the joy of knowing her, of knowing what it was like to reveal his true self to someone. Hannah Palmer was artless, with no hidden agenda, no practiced flirtatiousness, no carefully cultivated games.
And she allowed him to be his true self in her presence. He hadn’t spoken to anyone with such candor in longer than he could remember. The idea of spending all his days with such an enchanting, genuine lady left him almost desperate with longing.
Daydream bumped Hannah with her nose. The girl leaped back.
“She won’t hurt you,” Suttenberg said soothingly. “This is Daydream. She’s very gentle.” He held out a hand to her. “Come meet her. She’s the first horse I learned to ride.”
Hannah placed her hand in his and let him lead her back to the fence. He put her hand under Daydream’s nose to get her scent. After the chestnut snuffled, Suttenberg put Hannah’s small hand on the horse’s neck and guided her to stroke it.
“Look at her ears,” he murmured. “And see how she holds so still? She likes you.”
Hannah’s mouth curved in a tentative smile. “I want to touch her.” She removed her glove and put her bare hand on the horse’s neck.
“She’s softest right between the nostrils.” He petted the area to demonstrate.
Hannah eyed him before she followed his lead, her lips curving upward in delight. “She’s just like velvet.”
They stood side by side, petting a horse as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He’d never felt so comfortable with a lady before—comfortable except for a growing longing to draw her into his arms.
If only he could keep her at his side and hold on to the relaxed, easy joy of having her near. A few loose curls slipped from her hat and framed her face. She glanced up at him with an almost teasing smile. The image of Aphrodite superimposed itself over her. Aching, burning to touch her, he traced a finger down her cheek.
“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he murmured.
Warmth and affection shone in her eyes. No moment in his entire life had ever been as perfect as this. No lady had ever been so perfectly suited for him, the real him, Bennett. He cupped her face with his hands, leaned in, and kissed her. She kissed him back, with more heat than before, and he slipped into a sweet bliss he only experienced with her.
“Marry me,” he whispered as he broke the kiss. “I need you. I want you.”
She stared, her mouth working silently, then said, “I thought we agreed I’m not suited for the role of duchess.”
He pulled her in against his chest, savoring the softness of her body and the way it molded against his. “I don’t care. I don’t care if you can’t ride and don’t like large gatherings and get flustered when everyone watches you. I need you for quiet moments like this, when I can be who I really am and tell you my thoughts. When I’m with you, I forget I’m the Duke of Suttenberg, and I become just Bennett Partridge.”
She put a hand on his cheek, the same cheek she’d slapped after their last kiss. “You’d soon regret marrying me—your mother would disapprove, I’d embarrass you in public, I’d fail you in some crucial way. Something will happen, or fail to happen, and you’ll wish you’d married someone more like Miss Blackwood—with a heart, of course.” She raised up and kissed him softly. “Thank you for the offer, but I must decline.”
He tightened his hold on her. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
“Perhaps we oughtn’t spend time together alone.” Regret dimmed the light in her brown eyes. She stepped out of his arms and walked away.
Pain pierced his heart. His hot blood screamed at him to run after her, to do whatever he must to secure her in his life. Control. Maintain control. He fisted his hands and turned away. He must accept her logic, however cruel. She wasn’t suited for London life and all that would be required of her as a duchess. His duty came above his own need, the need for a wife he could love, a wife who would love him for who he was.
He hung his head and almost gave in to the urge to weep.
Chapter Nine
Hannah sat in her bedroom with her fingers to her lips, reliving the glorious kiss of Bennett Arthur Partridge, the Fifteenth Duke of Suttenberg, and made no attempt to suppress the tears streaming down her face.
Bennett. He wanted her to love him for the man, not the duke. And heaven help her, she did love him. His proposal seemed so sincere, as had his kiss. She’d almost accepted. The idea of sharing her life with a man of such strength and gentleness, of sophisticated polish and the type of kindness that he removed a saddle to let her ride his horse, who confided his most private fears, who kissed her like she was the most important and loved woman in his life, left her breathless with wonder. Oh, she yearned to accept.
His proposal had probably been another momentary lapse, like those that had driven his actions at the ball. If she’d accepted, he, as a man of honor, would have followed through and married her. But he’d grow to regret it. And he’d resent her when she failed him at every turn. Not only would she be the duchess everyone would ridicule, which would shame him and his family, but she’d fail him as a wife in her most basic role, that of bearing a future duke. He needed an heir; to deny him that would be unthinkable. The sorrowing suspicion that had plagued her for years sharpened into true pain. Now that it was Bennett’s children she wanted...
The harsh truth glared at her. She lay down on the window seat and gave in to her grief. After a time, her tears dried. She stared at the trees swaying in the autumn wind, casting off their gold and crimson leaves, as if casting off hope for life.
Alicia came in, carrying the train of her riding habit over her left arm. “How was your morning? Did you enjoy your walk?”
Hannah pushed herself up to a seated position and hoped her sister wouldn’t detect her sorrow. “It was... pleasant.”
Alicia sat next to her, her cheeks wind-kissed pink. “I
’m so glad to hear it.” She let out a happy sigh. “It was a lovely day to ride. The men caught several pheasants for dinner, so we’ll eat well tonight.”
Hannah tried to muster some enthusiasm. “Good. I haven’t have pheasant in ages.”
Her performance didn’t convince her sister. “Do you have another headache? You know, you should consult Dr. Power. He’s a sought-after physician in London.”
“No, I’m well.” She drew in her knees and hugged them.
“What then?”
“I don’t think I should go to London.”
“Because you bumped into a table last night under the duchess’s scrutiny?”
“Not only that. I just... I don’t think the kind of man who’d want to marry me will be there.”
“Where do you think he’ll be?”
“Living in a small estate in the country.”
Alicia put an arm around her. “Oh, my dear, you have much to offer any man. Don’t make assumptions about them; you’ll be wrong most of the time.” She smiled wryly, probably remembering all the assumptions she’d made about Cole. “Give it a month. If you hate London, we’ll go home and see about finding you a poor country squire.”
Of course, Hannah’s failure to produce heirs might disappoint even a poor country squire, but at least the fate of a duchy wouldn’t be at stake. And she couldn’t bear such disappointment in Bennett’s eyes. She almost let out a moan. She must not think of him as Bennett; he must be His Grace or the duke forevermore.
“As you wish.” She glanced at Alicia, too weary to continue this conversation with her emotions so raw. “I think I feel a headache coming on. Perhaps I shall take a nap.”
Alicia stood. “I’ll let you rest.” She closed the door quietly behind her. But a few minutes later, Alicia returned. “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Dr. Power to look in on you.”
Oh dear, caught in her lie. But if he was a sought-after London doctor...
“Very well. Send him in.” Hannah stood.
The silver-haired Dr. Power entered. “Miss Palmer? I understand you are suffering from a headache?”
“I’m better now. But...”
He passed an assessing glance over her. “Can I do anything for you?”
“Doctor, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” The kindly gentleman took a few steps nearer.
She let out her breath, shaking all over. If a renowned doctor confirmed her fears, it would cement them forever. And if she knew ahead of time that she couldn’t have children, she should not, in good conscience, marry anyone, unless perhaps to a widower who already had them. Maybe the doctor knew of a treatment or a way she could still bear a child.
The idea of sharing her life or having children with anyone but Bennett left her empty.
The doctor adjusted his spectacles. “Anything you tell me will be kept in strictest confidentiality.”
She nodded, clasping and unclasping her hands, and drew a shaking breath. “I wondered if you have much experience with women who get headaches so strong that light and noise becomes intolerable and often last all day, sometimes longer.”
“Yes, I have a few patients who suffer from that malady.”
She hesitated, afraid to ask the question; afraid of its answer. “I was sickly as a child, and while I’m healthier now, I still have those kinds of headaches. And I wondered, are they symptoms of something worse? Something that make it difficult for a woman to bear a child?”
He gestured for her to sit and took a seat next to her. He gave her a fatherly smile. “No, miss. I know of no correlation between those kind of headaches and the ability to procreate.”
She held her breath. “Truly?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
She pressed a hand to her chest, hardly daring to believe it. The dark fear she’d borne for years dissipated, but didn’t entirely vanish. It seemed too perfect to be real.
As if sensing she needed further proof, he added, “My patients who suffer from the sick headache, also known as migraines, have many sons and daughters. There is no reason to believe you won’t, when the time comes.”
She searched his face. A respected London doctor surely knew what he was about. And she’d observed his confidence and sincerity over the course of their visit. As the reality of his assurance sank in, she almost sobbed in relief. She might still be a green, unpolished girl who suffered from shyness and awkwardness, but at least she might know the joys of motherhood. If she ever married.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”
“Have you carried that fear all your life?”
She nodded.
“There are many reasons why women cannot conceive or deliver healthy babies—some for reasons we may never understand except that it is God’s will—but your headaches should not preclude you from bearing children.”
“Thank you. I’m so relieved.” Tears welled up in her eyes as the last of her fears vanished.
“I’m happy to have provided some comfort to you.” He patted her hand and left.
Hugging herself, Hannah leaned her head against the window. She might be a mother someday. A weight lifted from her soul.
But her ability to produce heirs didn’t make her capable of fulfilling the role of a duchess with all its responsibilities and pressures—not to mention being married to a paragon, whom everyone would think had settled for someone without his charm and elegance.
Perhaps someday she’d find another man who would kiss her the way Bennett had and who would help her stop dreaming about the man she could never have. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurd thought.
Chapter Ten
Trying to forget the sweet girl who’d stolen his heart, Suttenberg threw himself into his duties, meeting with his steward, hosting his guests, hunting, fencing, and providing entertainment. His efforts mocked him as meaningless.
On the last night of the house party, Suttenberg sat next to his mother. With a little luck, his guests would view his mood as stylishly aloof instead of wounded. How would he ever find a lady who would take Hannah Palmer’s place in his heart? He’d never believed love would happen so quickly, nor take such hold of him.
Against his will, he glanced at her—so lovely and untouchable that it almost hurt to look at her. She sat amid a small group of guests, watching them with that assessing way of hers, giving almost no input unless questioned. Sometimes her answers brought laughter, some brought pensiveness, but mostly she remained quiet, content to observe. Miss Blackwood eyed her with cold disdain, but Hannah appeared to give no notice except for glances akin to amusement.
The duchess leaned over and spoke in his ear. “You’re right, Suttenberg. Miss Blackwood would be a perfect duchess, except the primary emotion she possesses is contempt.” She paused. “Pity Miss Palmer is so shy. Not only is she uncommonly lovely, she’s intriguing and has a depth I’ve only just noticed.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Remembering his vow to pay more attention to the gentleman that Hannah Palmer suggested had captured his mother’s affection, he looked about the room for Mr. Gregory. Their longtime friend, a gentleman with a modest estate, glanced at Mother, a soft smile flitting over his features. Mother smiled back and let out an almost imperceptible sigh.
Suttenberg eyed his mother. “Why is it that you never remarried?”
“Oh, well, you know...” She waved a hand.
“No, I don’t know. Tell me.”
She studied her fingers, looking almost wistful. “I am the Duchess of Suttenberg. I cannot marry just anyone.”
“Why? You’ve been alone a long time. I have the estate well in hand. You have a generous jointure. Why couldn’t you follow your heart?”
“It wouldn’t be right if I were to marry too far below my station.”
“I can’t imagine why not. Who would dare gainsay you?”
“Well, no one, of course, but any good man would know not to reach too high.”
“Any good man would follow his heart.” As the words left his mouth, he gave a start. If he hadn’t heard himself utter it, he would never have believed he’d made such a statement. As he turned it over in his mind, it rang true. Whether it was a secret belief he’d only now acknowledged or a profound change in his principles, he couldn’t say.
His mother stared at him in wonder. “You are the last person I would have expected to hear speak those words.”
He let out an uneasy laugh and tried to shrug. “If he’s respectable and will treat you well, then he’s surely not beneath you.”
She said nothing for a while. Finally she turned tortured eyes upon him. “I have found someone. But you wouldn’t approve. And I can’t disappoint you.”
Aghast, he stared. He lowered his voice. “You are in love with someone, but you haven’t married him because I wouldn’t think he’s good enough?”
She flicked an imaginary speck off her gown. “I know all too well how important image is to this family. To you.”
“Hang the family image. Do you love him?”
She let out a sigh. “Yes.”
“Does he love you?”
She glanced at Mr. Gregory, who caught her gaze. His features turned to alarm as if he suspected they discussed something that distressed her. “Yes, I believe he does.”
Suttenberg stood and offered a hand to her. “Come with me, please.” They crossed the room to Mr. Gregory. “Sir, please join me in the conservatory.”
Mr. Gregory paled and glanced anxiously at the duchess. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Unbelievable that a man who had known Suttenberg since he was an infant addressed him with such deference. Was he so pompous and untouchable that he drove everyone away, including suitors of his sister and mother?
He led them to the conservatory. “Close the door, Gregory, if you please.”
The gentleman did so, looking as if he were about to be tied to a post and lashed.
Suttenberg eyed him. “Your estate is small but fairly prosperous, is it not?”
Timeless Regency Collection: Autumn Masquerade Page 16
