Ducal Encounters 01 - At the Duke's Discretion

by Wendy Soliman

  With people now swarming all over the pitch, it was sometime before Reece could force his way through to the place where Miss Brooke had been sitting. When he finally achieved that ambition, he was just in time to see her disappear into the house with the other ladies. Access to the house was strictly by invitation, and Reece would never gain admittance. He felt impotent with rage as he settled down, waiting for her to reappear, not wishing to think what she and Lord Amos might, even then, be doing to pass the time. Thinking about it anyway, his mood grew darker by the moment. He passed the time plotting increasingly violent ways to extract revenge on the chit for leading him such a merry dance.

  She was gone for an eternity, and there was no saying which door she might leave the house by. She could already have done so, and Reece would be none the wiser. On the point of giving up on her, he saw her emerge from a doorway and step out onto the terrace directly above Reece’s position.

  “That’s it, my beauty. Come to Reece,” he muttered, smacking his lips in anticipation.

  She hugged her torso, looking upset, on the verge of tears. Sheridan had probably used her and then sent her away. Reece’s grinned. What else could she have expected? He was on the point of climbing the wall that divided it from the lawns below and joining her when the door behind her opened for a second time and Lord Amos stepped out.

  Reece swore violently. Would nothing go right for him this day? About to walk away in search of a tankard of ale, he changed his mind and moved as close to the terrace as he could, curious to know what they were in such deep conversation about.

  ***

  Amos watched helplessly as Miss Brooke whirled through the doors to the terrace. She held her head high, but it was impossible not to notice she was trembling with emotion, or the pangs of disillusionment apparent in her eyes.

  “You could have handled that better, Amos,” Zach said mildly, echoing Amos’s own thoughts.

  “I am not angry at her.”

  “Nor should you be.”

  “She’s devilish brave, if you ask me,” Romsey remarked.

  Zach slapped his shoulder. “Go after her, make sure she’s all right. Romsey and I will discuss ways to use this situation to her advantage as well as our own. I think your Miss Brooke would welcome an opportunity to right quite a few wrongs and salve her conscience. We’d best get Chesney in here as well, let him know we are aware of the situation. Bring Miss Brooke back when she is more composed.”

  Amos went slowly, deep in thought about all he had just learned, incensed by it. He found her standing in an alcove that virtually concealed her from the people roaming the lawns below them. Tears flowed down her face, wild and unchecked. She tensed when she heard his footsteps, looked up and sent him a damning glance.

  “Leave me be.”

  “Lending you my handkerchiefs is becoming a habit.” His attempt at levity fell flat when she snatched his proffered linen and turned her back on him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was concerned about you.”

  “Don’t worry, Lord Amos. I shall not steal the family silver if allowed to wander through the house unattended.”

  “The thought had not crossed my mind and well you know it.”

  “Do I?” She swirled around to face him, anger radiating through her tears. “You did not believe what I had to say in there, even though you have seen direct evidence of how Reece treats me. Or did you think that was simply a falling out amongst thieves?”

  “No, of course not. You cannot possibly believe−”

  “Presumably you think I became involved in this farrago willingly, in which case it is probably unwise for you to be alone with me.” Tears glistened on her thick lashes. Amos yearned to wipe them away, fold her in his arms, and assure her he believed every word she had said, even if his reaction had led her to think otherwise. Perdition, he was handling this all wrong! “It might be contagious, mixing with a fraud such as me.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her to turn and face him. “I believed you,” he said softly.

  “No you did not. If that had been the case you would not have been so appalled, so accusatory, so…oh, so everything.” She threw her hands in the air. “It was very hard for me to tell the truth for fear of what you…yes you, might think of me.” She poked him in the chest for added emphasis. “You looked as though you wanted to kill someone, and I thought that someone was most likely me.”

  “My violent thoughts were directed at the cowardly people who forced you into this position. With your mother, and your father even.” Amos scowled. “It is fortunate none of them happened to be in my brother’s library when you explained how you have been exploited, or I would not have been responsible for my actions.”

  “Well, thank you, at least for believing me,” she said stiffly, all the fight appearing to drain out of her. “That is something.” She mopped her eyes with his handkerchief. “I should go and find my uncle. He will wonder what has become of me.”

  “Are you so very anxious to leave me?”

  “I should have thought you would be keen to see the back of me. I have lost your respect,” she said so quietly he could barely hear her. “I did not deserve to have it, I know that very well. Even so, I did not expect the loss of it to hurt quite so much.” She glanced up at him through eyes swamped with fresh tears. The sight moved Amos in unimaginable ways. He knew how brave she was, how strong she had had to be for the sake of her family, and suspected she seldom gave way to such a firestorm of emotion. It was a luxury she could ill-afford, demonstrating just how close to the end of her tether she actually was. “I have never sought anyone’s approval before now, apart from Papa’s. Life has taught me it is safer that way.”

  “You are quite wrong, you know. I have never respected you more. What you have done, your courage, how you have worked against your instincts, morals, and better judgement in your determination to protect your ungrateful sister, is truly admirable.”

  He held her captive with his gaze, watching her reaction as realisation slowly dawned. “You really do not blame me for doing what I did?” she asked in a bewildered tone.

  “All I blame you for is not confiding in me before now. You must have sensed I only wished to be of service to you.”

  “I had my uncle’s welfare to consider. He is a kind and honourable man. He ought to have sent me packing when he realised what problems I have visited upon him. Instead, he stood beside me every step of the way, never once admonishing me.” Renewed tears spilled down her cheeks. “He can no longer do close work, due to his deteriorating eyesight, and had planned to retire very soon. He has a house on the edge of the village all picked out. Now, thanks to me, he cannot stay in the district and hold his head up high.”

  “Nonsense! Zach has just now sent for him. He will tell him he knows and does not blame him in the least.”

  She gasped. “The duke would do that?”

  Her eyes widened. Dry now, albeit red-rimmed and puffy from crying, they smouldered with luminescence, sapping Amos’s rapidly dwindling willpower. He captured one of her escaped curls between his fingers and twirled it around them. She watched him, her breathing becoming increasingly ragged as he slid his other arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She made no move to prevent him.

  “The duke does not blame either of you, and nor do I.”

  “You do not?” She looked astonished, as though she had decided she did not deserve respect of any kind. “You really don’t?”

  He could sense the rapid beating of her heart as he held her close, and an overwhelming torrent of fiercely protective feelings gripped him. Cristobel Brooke had been made to feel inconsequential her entire life. She had been compared to her sister and found wanting. Her mother had no time for her. She was being exploited by tyrants who worked against the interests of England. Amos was damned if he would allow that situation to continue.

  “I really don’t,” he said, lowering his head until his lips hovered
so very close to hers that her breath peppered his face. “Zach and Romsey are devising a means for you to get even with these blaggards and be free of them forever. But I will not allow you to be part of their scheme if there is the slightest danger to you.”

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Surely that is for me to decide?”

  “Oh no, you are quite wrong about that.” He traced the line of freckles across her nose with the tip of his index finger. “I like these. They give your face character.”

  She managed a wry smile. “That is hardly a compliment.”

  “I know your mother and sister have made you feel second best, but you must not think that way about yourself. I have not yet met them but already know you are worth ten of them.”

  “Lord Amos, I−”

  “Amos. You must call me Amos.”

  Her lips quirked. “I cannot do that.”

  “Certainly you can, and I shall call you Cristobel.”

  “Crista suits me better.”

  The fingers of one hand softly touched the back of her neck, pulling her face even closer to his. “So it does, sweet Crista.”

  No longer able to resist her tantalising allure, Amos smothered an oath as he pulled her body tighter against his and claimed her lips in a drugging kiss. Those soft lips parted beneath his in an unspoken invitation she probably did not know she had issued, but one he was powerless to ignore. He plundered her mouth with seductive strokes of his tongue as he deepened the kiss, until it became unashamedly carnal. Inexorable need gripped him. He was conscious of her enticing curves as one hand ran down the length of her back, drawing her closer. However close, it would never be close enough to satisfy Amos’s growing need for her. He was even more conscious of the soft swell of her breasts pressed against his chest. God forbid she should be aware of his ardent desire pressing against her belly in return. She would think him no better than Reece, if he could not control his base desires.

  The appealing mewing sound that forced its way past their fused lips brought Amos to his senses. They were out in the open, with a potential audience of several hundred people strolling the lawns below them. Much as he would like to explore her quite remarkable sensuality in more exacting detail, now was neither the time nor the place.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the kiss. “I ought not to have done that, even if I have wanted to since first setting eyes on you.”

  “There is no call for gallantry,” she replied, looking dazed and unsure of herself. She stumbled when he released her, and he reached out a hand to steady her. “I know that cannot be true. I don’t need pretty words or false assurances.”

  “You must learn to accept a compliment, Crista,” he replied stroking the curve of her face.

  “I am a realist, Lord Amos, and−”

  “Now that I have kissed you, you absolutely must use my name. I insist.”

  “No matter what I call you, we cannot ignore the circumstances.”

  “I better understand now why you are determined not to marry,” he said. “You only have your mother and father’s example to guide you. I, on the other hand, saw a very different aspect of marital bliss while growing up and fully intend to persuade you that you are wrong.”

  “Why should you care what I think?”

  Amos shook his head. “Come,” he said, taking her elbow. “Zach will wonder what has become of us.”

  “Lord Amos…Amos, I wanted to−” She broke off, her face flooding with colour. Amos paused, very much wanting to know what she was too embarrassed to ask him.

  “Yes. What is it?”

  “Oh, nothing. I was being fanciful. Ignore me.”

  “I cannot. There is obviously something on your mind. I need to hear what it is.”

  “It is hardly the time.”

  “There will probably never be a right time. Just ask me. It is impossible to shock me, if that’s what concerns you.”

  “All right.” Her face still flamed with colour but she inverted her chin and met his gaze. “Since you brought the subject of marriage up, I want you to know I am perfectly serious in my intention never to marry. As you now know, I am well able to earn my own living. I have enough contacts in the business to be able to find employment, even if I cannot take public credit for the pieces I create.”

  Amos ground his jaw. “That seems unfair.”

  “That is life. So is my determination not to marry. However, I…” She broke off, plucking her lower lip absently with her index finger. Amos was now even more intrigued by her acute embarrassment. “However, I am filled with curiosity,” she said, her words echoing his thoughts, “about…well, about what happens between a man and a woman, and I was rather hoping you might oblige me by satisfying that curiosity.”

  “What!”

  “Am I so very repellent to you?” She dropped her gaze to her feet, blushing even more furiously than before.

  Amos tilted her chin with his fingers until she was obliged to meet his gaze. “You know very well you are not, but I cannot do what you ask.”

  “Oh, excuse me. I thought we understood one another. You obviously fear I have ulterior motives. I can assure you that is not the case. I simply have an enquiring mind.”

  “There are things we can do to answer some of your questions, but I will not despoil you, and there’s an end to the matter.”

  Her embarrassment gave way to a capricious, knowing smile. The vixen was starting to discover the depths of her feminine powers. It was a joy for Amos to behold, even if it did create difficulties of a very different nature for him.

  “I cannot believe we are having this conversation at such a time, but I am glad we are. It helps to have something other than Reece and his vile demands to think about.”

  “Speaking of which, we ought to return inside.” He took her hand and secured it in the crook of his arm. “By the way, where did you learn to catch a cricket ball like that?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Reece’s jaw fell open.

  “What the devil!” His body shook with a combination of rage and jealousy as he observed Sheridan hold Crista Brooke in his arms and kiss her like he had every right in the world to take such liberties. “Damn the man, does he have no shame?”

  The fact that Reece had similar plans for Crista was neither here nor there. He was not an aristocrat amusing himself with a woman from the lower classes. Nor had there been hundreds of people on the common to observe their activities when he attempted it. Not that anyone else seemed to notice Sheridan’s outrageously arrogant behaviour. Reece probably would not have seen it either if he hadn’t been watching them so closely. They were almost entirely concealed by the alcove they occupied, only Sheridan’s back in view, and the villagers were having much too good a time to be concerned about the activities at the big house.

  Reece was surprised by the compulsion he felt to go to Crista’s rescue, even though she didn’t appear to require rescuing. He was not normally inclined to interfere in other people’s business, and certainly should not do anything to draw attention to himself now. Nor should Crista, he thought, grinding his jaw as he watched the kiss continue.

  And continue.

  Perdition, Crista was acting no better than a light skirt! It should be him kissing her, Reece thought, emitting a frustrated growl that caused people to stare at him and then give him a wide berth. It should be him igniting her passions. Reece wanted her so much he might even have given up his itinerant lifestyle and taken her for his wife. He jerked upright when that thought lodge in his brain, wondering how long his sub-conscience been toying with that possibility. He had known since first making her acquaintance there was something special about her, and he wasn’t just referring to her tempting body. With her skill as a jeweller and his connections they could be set for life, if only she wasn’t too stubborn to see matters in that light.

  He snarled as he watched Sheridan manhandling the woman he had now convinced himself was intended for his wife. She and Sheridan had
been in deep conversation for some time before he pulled her into his arms. Damnation, he had hardly been able to hear a word that passed between them, but it was obvious Lord Amos and Crista were on far better terms than Reece had supposed. What to do about it? Reece watched them go back inside and walked slowly away, now badly in need of ale. He ought to inform his master about this development. But if he did so, the blame might fall upon him for not keeping her under better control.

  It would fall upon him.

  He knew what had happened to her father when he ceased to be of use to his employers, and he had no desire to become their next victim.

  Reece reached the table where the ale was being served. It was swamped with thirsty customers, and it was a considerable time before Martha slapped a half-full tankard in front of him. Reece was too preoccupied to complain about the short measure, especially since he didn’t have to pay. Another week and this damnable business would be over. He would be handsomely recompensed and could get on with his life. As he calmed down, he was able to convince himself Crista would never risk admitting what she had done for him and his employers. She wasn’t stupid and must realise the Sheridans would never hold with such behaviour. Ergo, she would lose her rich admirer.

  As the ale slipped down his throat and the power of rational thought gradually returned to him, he ceased panicking. He had control of the diamonds, and they would never leave his sight. When he was with Crista, he would ensure he was always armed, and be on the alert for problems. Then, when this was all over, he would show Miss Crista Brooke what it was like to know a real man.

  But when he was done with her, he decided she did not deserve to have his ring on her finger after all; not after the outrageous way she had just behaved with Sheridan. Edward Reece did not pick up another man’s leftovers.

  ***

  As she returned to the library on Amos’s arm, Crista was a conflicting mass of elation, nerves, and confusion. She did not know precisely what had just occurred between them, or what it signified. Had they reached an understanding? He had refused to take her as his mistress when she so brazenly made the request. Crista felt her face flame as she relived that humiliation. Amos had said there were things they could do to satisfy her curiosity, so he wasn’t rejecting her precisely. But what things? She wished he had not spoken in riddles, but she had been too embarrassed to ask for specifics. She ran the tip of her tongue across lips that felt pleasantly swollen from the ardency of his kiss. She chanced a glance at him and encountered the dark weight of his gaze focused on her face, heavy-lidded and seductive, burning with an unfathomable emotion. She felt the muscles in the arm, upon which her hand rested, flex and tighten as though he understood her confusion and sought to reassure.