The Desires of a Duke: Historical Romance Collection

by Darcy Burke

  Chapter 3

  Ravenwood released Miss Ross from his arms, his heart pounding in trepidation.

  It was already too late.

  An older woman stood in the open doorway, blinking owlishly at them from a pale, angular face.

  “Oh, thank heavens.” Miss Ross all but sagged back into his arms in obvious relief. “It’s just Aunt Havens.”

  Ravenwood stiffened. From what he had always gathered, aunts happening across an unchaperoned niece in the arms of a duke generally put one at distinct risk for a leg shackle.

  He couldn’t risk Miss Ross becoming his duchess, for God’s sake.

  She was intriguing and beautiful, but tempting curves and kissable lips were not the traits he most desired. No matter what his traitorous body might have thought when he’d given into temptation and pulled her into his arms.

  He knew precisely what sort of woman would make the perfect wife and a wonderful duchess, and Miss Ross unquestionably did not fit his requirements.

  When he married, it would be for his dukedom…and for love.

  Or at least, that had been his plan until a few moments ago.

  However, Mrs. Havens had yet to sound the alarm. Or do much of anything besides stare at them, with her back to the noise from the gala and Ravenwood’s freedom in the palm of her hand.

  “She’s frowning because she can be slightly addled at times, not because she intends to compromise us,” Miss Ross whispered. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Relief coursed through him.

  His moment of weakness, of madness, was nothing more than that. A flight of fancy. It wasn’t like he had actually kissed her.

  Mrs. Havens had done them a favor by interrupting.

  He tried to calm his racing heart. Miss Ross’s ability to drive him mad with both distaste and desire did not deserve to be dwelled upon any longer.

  Thank God they wouldn’t be compromised. If they could not be in each other’s company without arguing—or kissing—then they would simply take care to avoid each other’s company.

  Indeed, it was past time for Ravenwood to select a proper duchess. If he had already taken a wife, he would never have made the terrible mistake of a horrifically incompatible woman like Miss Ross.

  He required someone of moral restraint, of unimpeachable reputation, of soft words and a gentle heart. A duchess who would command the unflagging respect of the entire ton. Once he took a wife, he would no longer be tempted by the likes of Miss Ross.

  He forced himself to drag his gaze away from the pretty flush on Miss Ross’s cheeks…and the sight of her tongue as she licked her lower lip.

  No matter how badly he’d longed to escape the crowded salon, he should never have followed her into the storage area. Her goading was far less dangerous than the temptation of her kisses.

  But then, who would imagine he could ever be tempted?

  “There’s no trouble here, Aunt.” Miss Ross grabbed one of the dusty cloths covering the many crates and placed it atop the puddle on the floor. “We’re just attending to a slight mishap.”

  “Why was a pail of water perched at the edge of a shelf to begin with?” he growled beneath his breath.

  Miss Ross’s blue eyes sparked up at him from beneath dusky lashes. “’Tis my museum, not yours. I’ll store my possessions wherever I please.”

  “Did I leave my bucket on the floor?” came a querulous voice from the doorway.

  Addled sometimes. He swallowed in sudden understanding. Miss Ross wasn’t the beautiful, shallow creature he’d believed her to be. Her fiery glare hadn’t been because she was cross with Ravenwood, but because she wished to protect her aunt from censure. He appreciated such a noble streak.

  “Go back to the others,” Miss Ross called over her shoulder. “I’ll find you in a moment.”

  Ravenwood’s entire body tensed as he waited to see whether Mrs. Havens would follow such a directive without asking what her niece was doing alone with a strange man in the first place.

  To his relief, Mrs. Havens nodded as if this were a perfectly normal request. “Make haste if you could, please. Daphne has questions about the pink vases and Lambley says we’re running out of champagne.”

  Ravenwood blinked at the mundane query.

  Miss Ross had been correct. Everything was going to be all right. All they had to do was slip back into the salon before anyone else noticed them missing and then life would continue as planned.

  The hardest part would be explaining why his cravat looked like he’d dropped it in bathwater.

  As Mrs. Havens turned to close the door, her voice floated back to them. “No, you’ll have to wait for the champagne. Kate needs a private moment with a young man before she can join us.”

  Miss Ross flushed pink and sucked in a breath.

  Ravenwood covered his face with his hand.

  The storage door swung back open with enough force to rattle its hinges.

  “Ravenwood?” spluttered the Duke of Lambley in disbelief. “Why are you skulking about with my cousin?”

  “A fine accusation, coming from the likes of you,” Ravenwood returned icily.

  Lambley’s more illicit parties were legendary for their hedonism. They were also precisely the wrong comparison to make whilst explaining why Ravenwood was alone with Miss Ross.

  Mrs. Havens clasped her hands to her chest and fixed her nephew with a worried gaze. “Is something wrong, dear?”

  “Ravenwood is about to ask my cousin for her hand in marriage right this very moment, that’s what’s wrong.” Lambley stalked forward with his hands clenched into fists.

  Miss Ross rushed forward. “Cousin, wait. It’s not what you think!”

  Lambley drew up short, his posture relaxing. “Please tell me there’s a reasonable explanation.”

  For a moment—a brief, glorious moment—Ravenwood let himself believe that he would be able to exit this museum the same way he had entered it: a bachelor.

  Then dozens of familiar faces swarmed the open doorway in shock and delight.

  “What is it?”

  “Lambley nearly engaged in fisticuffs with the Duke of Ravenwood!”

  “A brawl? In a museum?”

  “The Duke of Ravenwood has compromised Miss Ross!”

  “Can you imagine her as a duchess?”

  “Can you imagine Ravenwood compromising someone? His blood isn’t made of ice after all!”

  “A tryst, at a charity gala! Can there be anything more vulgar?”

  “Must not have wanted him, though. Looks like she tossed her drink right in his face.”

  “Not want a duchy? Are you mad? That’s a lover’s quarrel, that is. She wanted to be more than a mistress, but he had his sainted image to uphold.”

  Ravenwood was clenching his jaw so tight he feared his teeth would grind to dust. His “sainted” image had been one of his prized possessions. An achievement of which he’d had every right to be proud.

  In eight-and-twenty years, he’d never once given Society a reason to view his manners and his bearing with anything less than absolute respect.

  In less than a quarter hour, he’d managed to tarnish two reputations. All because he’d ducked into a quiet room for a much needed respite from this very crowd.

  He slowly turned toward Miss Ross, expecting to find her prostrate with mortification. Or perhaps smug with satisfaction, if the gossips were right about every woman’s innate desire to become a duchess.

  Miss Ross didn’t look delighted at her unexpected new fortune. She looked like she was going to cry.

  Devil take it.

  Ravenwood’s spine snapped into its habitual commanding posture. A sudden betrothal was the last thing either of them had planned, but becoming the new Duchess of Ravenwood was hardly the end of the world. For someone like her, ’twould be a giant step forward.

  “Miss Ross.” He forced himself to voice the dreaded words that had now become inevitable. “Would you do me the great honor—”

  “
It’s no honor,” she muttered back, glaring at his wet shoes. “This is a nightmare for both of us.”

  Well. At least she acknowledged the truth. Ravenwood grabbed her hand and turned toward the jostling spectators. “She said yes!”

  She dug her fingernails into his skin. “I didn’t say yes. You didn’t finish your sentence.”

  “Do you want this to become even more of a farce than it already is?” he asked through clenched teeth, forcing himself not to grab her. “If that bucket hadn’t been there—”

  “If you hadn’t followed me somewhere you certainly didn’t belong—”

  “If you hadn’t forced me into attending this ridiculous gala—”

  “If you didn’t have such a large stick up your arse—”

  “If you could act like a lady for just once in your flighty, spoiled little life—”

  “Congratulations,” Lambley boomed. He yanked Miss Ross to safety before Ravenwood could throttle her for making a horrible situation even worse. “You may call upon us tomorrow to work out the details.”

  Ravenwood allowed his mask of ducal impenetrability to engulf him, cloaking his frustration behind an emotionless façade.

  He inclined his head toward Lambley. The bounder was right. Duty before all else. He would not lower himself to arguing again. Not now, not tomorrow, not even when that pretty termagant became his wife.

  Duty first. Nothing else mattered.

  Not even his own happiness.

  Chapter 4

  Kate trudged into her Egyptian themed parlor and threw herself into the carved wooden chair across from her Aunt Havens.

  The sun streamed merrily through the tall, rectangular windows on this beautiful June day, yet Kate gazed about her favorite room of the townhouse without her usual joy and satisfaction.

  This was her townhouse. Her parlor. Her carefully themed rooms, decorated with minute accuracy down to the hue of the paint and the stitching on the chair cushions.

  It had taken Kate her entire adult life to coax her Mayfair townhouse from an empty skeleton into a home she could be proud of. Each room a living replica of a moment in history. Each item purchased using the modest sum she’d inherited when her parents had died far too young.

  Not only would she be expected to leave it all behind after the wedding—it wouldn’t even belong to her anymore.

  As soon as the marriage contract was signed and the ceremony completed, everything Kate had dedicated her purposefully spinsterish life to building would immediately become sole property of the Duke of Ravenwood.

  She wished she’d thrown the bucket at him on purpose.

  “How can you sit there and embroider on a day like this?” she groused to her aunt.

  Kate frowned. Perhaps Aunt Havens had the right of it. Heaven knew what she’d be “allowed” to do once they were under Ravenwood’s thumb. This might be her last chance to run out and spend every penny she owned.

  Not that she would. Ravenwood might not even let her keep her purchases. How was Kate to know what a duke might do? Especially a duke as notoriously cold and severe as Ravenwood. She drew in a shaky breath. Selling off her treasures would break her heart worse than never owning them in the first place.

  Aunt Havens lowered her embroidery to her lap and peered at Kate. “Is he a nice man? Might he make you happy?”

  Kate’s shoulders sagged as some of the tension seeped from them. Aunt Havens was perfectly herself today, thank God. Kate needed her.

  The two of them had been through so much. They’d lost homes, they’d lost all their loved ones, but they’d never lost each other.

  Since the day Kate had been orphaned, she had confided all her fears and secrets to her aunt. She wouldn’t be able to survive the upcoming changes without her aunt’s advice, support, and unconditional love. Together, they could get through anything.

  Including this.

  “He’s…respectable,” she hedged in response to her aunt’s question. Ravenwood was also handsome and self-righteous and proper and maddening. He turned her thoughts upside-down. “Or at least he was respectable, until my cousin’s buffoonery made everyone jump to completely unfounded conclusions.”

  Aunt Havens tilted her head. “Lambley merely wished to protect you.”

  “I know.” Kate leaned her head back against the chair and threw her arm over her eyes.

  For all his rakish ways, Lambley would choose dueling pistols at dawn over the thought of someone taking advantage of his innocent cousin Kate.

  And that was the jest, wasn’t it? She was innocent in that sense. The moment with Ravenwood had been disappointingly innocent. She was a “fallen” woman who had never even been kissed. And was too terrified to bear children, for fear of losing them. Even for a husband who looked like Adonis.

  She pulled herself up into a seated position. “I cannot be a duchess, Aunt. I don’t want a husband at all.”

  Aunt Havens frowned. “You have no choice.”

  “We’ll make each other miserable,” Kate insisted. The quickening of her pulse meant nothing. She could not possibly marry him, for she couldn’t perform any of her wifely duties. “He’ll expect a sweet, proper, docile wife. I’m none of those things.”

  “Then you’ll have to change. He’s a duke. He has a right to expect those qualities.”

  Aunt Havens was right. Of course she was right. But Kate couldn’t help a stab of resentment that becoming a duchess meant she had to stop being Kate.

  “Why can’t I expect things, too?” Kate’s fingers clenched in frustration. Pricks of heat stung her eyes.

  “You ought not to worry. He will take care of you.” Aunt Havens picked up her embroidery. “It is his responsibility to provide for you in every way, from this day forward. Think of all the resources you’ll have.”

  “I don’t want his money. I have my own money.” Or at least she used to. Very soon, even her museum would belong to her husband. Who would she be then? “I don’t need anything from him, and I’d prefer he didn’t require anything of me. I’d rather live in infamy than marry a man who only wants to change me.”

  Aunt Havens didn’t respond.

  Kate frowned. It wasn’t unusual for her aunt to sit in silence if she felt Kate was simply being dramatic, but the threat of not following through with the wedding should have warranted some sort of reply.

  A soft snore escaped Aunt Havens’ mouth.

  Indecision paralyzed Kate. This was the fifth time in as many months that Aunt Havens had fallen asleep during daylight hours, right in the middle of doing something else.

  Part of her wanted to let her aunt sleep. The other, more frightened part of her wanted to shake her aunt awake and make her promise she wasn’t getting ill. Or growing old. Or anything else that might take her away from Kate.

  Cold terror gripped her heart.

  What if Ravenwood didn’t want some doddering aunt wandering about his ducal estate? He hadn’t even wanted Kate. He certainly wouldn’t be pleased to discover he’d gained not one, but two unwanted dependents. What if he decided to execute his husbandly right to send Aunt Havens to some far off asylum and Kate never saw her again?

  Dizziness assailed her. She rushed over to her aunt and pulled her into her arms. Aunt Havens was Kate’s heart, her family, her lifeline. She couldn’t lose her. She wouldn’t.

  “Miss Ross?” Marr, Kate’s butler, stepped into the parlor. “You have a gentleman caller. Shall I show him in?”

  Kate glanced up at her butler and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Show him in, please.”

  She placed a blanket about Aunt Havens’ shoulders and sat next to her, rather than across from her. Asleep or not, they would present a united front against Ravenwood. Sort of. She took a deep breath to rally her courage.

  The Duke of Ravenwood stepped into the parlor looking even more devastatingly handsome than he’d done the night before. His chestnut curls and long-lashed green eyes highlighted without softening his unsmiling lips and regal bearing.
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  She stood as he sketched a courtly bow, and responded with as pretty a curtsey as she could muster. She would be calm. He hadn’t hoped for this turn of events any more than she had. Churlishness would help neither of them. They would have to make the best of it.

  “Have you seen the scandal sheets?” she asked.

  He took a seat on the chair opposite. “I don’t need to.”

  Kate had felt the same way. For the first time in her life, she had tossed them into the fire without opening them.

  Normally, she loved to read each column. To spy her name, or some unmistakable allusion to her, amongst their mindless pages.

  Today was different. She pressed her lips together. The rest of her life would be different.

  Ravenwood settled back in his chair. He had yet to remark upon their chaperone’s gentle snores, despite the presence of needlework in her liver spotted hands.

  Kate wasn’t certain if his failure to acknowledge Aunt Havens made him exceptionally rude, or unexpectedly perceptive. It was not something she wished to talk about. Aunt Havens was just tired. She was going to be fine.

  Ravenwood leaned forward. “Do you have a preference as to which church does the reading of the banns?”

  He wanted banns?

  She stared at him uncomprehendingly. “You’re a duke. Can’t you get a special license?”

  “Of course. But our betrothal has been marked with enough ignominy. Banns are what most couples do. A special license is just something else for the gossips to talk about.”

  “We’re not most couples,” she said, without heat. Nothing about this was normal.

  He knew that. Neither of them had wanted this. He was trying to make it easier. She tilted her head to consider him. Despite the image he projected, he wasn’t an unfeeling automaton. She’d learned that last night when he’d caught her in his arms. He was trying to protect her again now.

  His face was impassive. “You object to banns?”

  She objected to marrying anyone. But thanks to the compromise, her wishes no longer mattered. She bit her lip. “I don’t see the point to prolonging the inevitable. We have to wed. A special license is the most expedient solution. Banns won’t make anyone believe we’ve fallen in love.”