The Duke: The Knight Miscellany Series: Book 1

by Gaelen Foley

  Bel sighed and patted his shoulder in affection. “Well, I wish you would, because I forgive you. Besides, that is one strong advantage of being ruined, Papa—I for one haven’t got a reputation to worry about anymore.”

  He scowled at her quip, but she laughed to assure him she was fine.

  Supper was served soon after.

  Bel sensed the tension between Robert and her father, though both were too well bred to act rudely. Luckily Jacinda’s running chatter filled any awkward silences and kept everyone amused. When Lizzie finally got a word in, Alfred realized a fellow bookworm was at the table and took great delight in drawing the shy girl out.

  Jacinda looked momentarily nonplussed at not being the center of attention, then seemed to decide she loved her friend too dearly to mind and cheerfully ate her supper and listened to the talk of books.

  From the corner of her eye, Bel noticed Robert looking at her strangely. She sent him a questioning look, but he just reached for her hand at the table and held it, gazing at her while the others discussed Gulliver’s Travels.

  That night after Papa had left and the girls had gone to bed, he led her up to the top of the keep and seduced her under the stars, coaxing tears of surrender from the deepest reaches of her heart with his whispers of eternal devotion.

  His sweetness was so perfect, his tenderness so exquisite, it was almost as if he had known that the very next day he would break her heart into a thousand pieces.

  Bel stood in the corridor outside Robert’s study, listening in a sudden state of foreboding. He had summoned her for some reason, but by the sound of it, he was not expecting her yet.

  “I know you are very fond of Miss Hamilton, girls, but things are much more complicated in Town than they are here. If you so much as nod to her in the park, you risk damage to your reputations.”

  “You want us to cut her, Robert?” Jacinda cried.

  “It’s not ‘cutting’ her. She understands. It’s not the way I want it, girls, it’s just the way it is.”

  “But it will hurt her feelings—”

  “And we love her!”

  “Of course you do. We all do. Girls, I am only concerned for your future.”

  “Are you going to cut her, Robert?” Bel heard Jacinda ask.

  “Of course not. The code is different for men, as you well know.”

  Abandoning her brief moment of eavesdropping, Bel judged that moment a good one to go in. They all fell silent and turned to her, looking a trifle guilty to be caught discussing her, but she smiled at them in forgiving reassurance.

  “He’s quite right, Jacinda, Lizzie. You won’t hurt my feelings a bit. We can have a signal. How’s that? If you see me, open your parasols or your fans, and I’ll take that for a cheerful hello, and I’ll do the same.”

  “Oh, Miss Hamilton!” they cried, hugging her. “We’re so sorry!”

  “Don’t be silly, it’s not your fault. I’m still a finishing-school teacher at heart, you know, and if you are not on your very best behavior in public places, I shall be very cross.”

  Robert sent her a chastened smile of gratitude as she laughingly hugged the girls.

  “It’ll all be fine. Now run along and start packing your things, because it seems we are going back to London?” She turned expectantly to him.

  He nodded their dismissal. “If you ladies don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Miss Hamilton in private.”

  After Lizzie and Jacinda had slipped out, Bel folded her arms over her chest and turned to him curiously. “What’s going on?”

  His dark eyes shone with triumph as he strode over to her and clasped her arms, giving her a light squeeze. “You’re not going to believe this. Sit down.”

  “We’re going back to London?”

  “Yes, yes—but we won’t be staying there long.”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “Where are we going? That is—am I coming with you, wherever it is?”

  “Of course,” he scoffed. “I don’t go anywhere without my political secret weapon, my lovely, sparkling, ravishing hostess!”

  “Well? What’s the news? You look like the cat who ate the canary.”

  “Bel, I have been chosen to go with Castlereagh’s British delegation to the Congress of Vienna.”

  She gasped and clapped both hands over her mouth.

  His hands turned to fists of victory. “Isn’t it incredible?” He paced in jittery excitement. “Do you realize this congress is going to be the most important international gathering since the time of Charlemagne?”

  “Oh, Robert, you will be in the history books, just like so many of your ancestors!”

  He grinned, blushing slightly. “We still have to get the Regent’s approval of my appointment, but I have the prime minister’s recommendation, thanks to Coldfell. Wellington, of course, will also participate.”

  “Wait one moment—what was that about Lord Coldfell?”

  He turned to her, hands in pockets. She noticed a flicker of some vague uneasiness in his dark eyes. “He was the one who put my name before the committee.”

  “Robert,” she stared at him, flabbergasted.

  “What?” he asked a trifle guiltily.

  “If this came from Coldfell, then there’s got to be a catch.”

  “Well, of course there is,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out an uncomfortable little laugh. He glanced at her with pleading emotion in his dark eyes, then he dropped his chin almost to his chest. “God, this is hard to tell you.”

  She paled. “He’s not asking you to risk your life and limb again—•”

  “No, nothing like that.” He swallowed hard. “I want you to know straight off that it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just—” He faltered.

  “Robert?”

  He drew a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. “He wants me to marry his daughter, Juliet. And I have agreed.”

  Hawk could barely bring himself to hold Belinda’s shocked stare. Her eyes had gone glassy and the color had drained from her face. She sank down into the nearest chair, staring at nothing.

  He took a step toward her. “Please—don’t misconstrue this. You’re the one I love. I have to marry sometime.”

  Her eyes seemed huge and they grew darker and darker, but when she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “The little deaf girl?”

  “Yes. Coldfell hasn’t got any more heirs. His daughter must bear a son before he dies or his title will revert to the Crown.” He crouched down before her chair. “Coldfell merely wants someone who will keep the girl protected. Belinda—”

  The silky rustling of her skirts twisted his heart as she rose and glided past him, momentarily stunned into silence. “She is Jacinda’s age.”

  “It doesn’t matter. My relationship with Lady Juliet will be scarcely more than fraternal. You’re the one I love, the one I need. The one who inspires me. You’re my equal. I know you understand my position, Bel. Please, say something.”

  “I think I shall be sick,” she whispered.

  “I don’t want this to hurt you, Bel. You know I have to take this opportunity.”

  “A son, Robert? What am I to say? The stork isn’t going to bring it. How can I share you?” she cried.

  “You can’t possibly be jealous of her.”

  “Why can’t that cunning old man leave you alone? What if it’s a trick?”

  “It’s not a trick. I just received Lord Liverpool’s letter confirming my appointment.”

  “Confirming it? Then you’ve known of this for—how long? And you said nothing? How long, Robert?” she demanded angrily.

  “A few days,” he forced out.

  Glaring at him, she stalked over to his desk and sifted angrily through its contents until she found the communiqué from the prime minister. He saw that her hands were shaking and he lowered his head.

  “ ‘Castlereagh verging on another depression,’ ” she read aloud. “ ‘We need someone steady and cool headed on hand. . . .’ ”

  Seem
ing to lose interest suddenly, she tossed the letter back onto his desk and went to stare out the window with her arms folded tightly over her chest. “I knew this would happen,” she said. “I was waiting for it.”

  He took a step toward her slim, bristling silhouette, then thought better of it.

  “Do you have to marry her to keep this appointment?” she asked in a tone made carefully neutral, still keeping her back to him.

  Pain washed through him as he stared at her in misery and when he spoke, his words came heavily. “I think we both know it’s more than just the appointment, darling. Even if I were to pass up this opportunity, the problem will not go away. Eventually I must marry according to my station. Might I not just as well do the country some good, if they’re going to give me the chance?”

  There was a long and hollow silence.

  “It is the chance of a lifetime for you, Robert,” she said, finally. “Perhaps it is even your destiny. Congratulations. I’m sure you will serve your country with your usual skill.” She turned around, her refined features fixed in a white mask of serenity. “Beyond that, all that’s left to say is good-bye.”

  “No,” he uttered, taking a lurching step toward her.

  “What, then?” Her facade crumbled with anger. “What are we even doing here? Hiding away from Society and the Patronesses? Good God,” she exclaimed, nearly laughing with pain, “I am in love with a man who is ashamed of me!”

  “That is not true—”

  “It is true. You are as ashamed of me as you were of your mother. To you, I have always been a whore and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

  “That is a lie,” he bellowed so wrathfully that she flinched. “I’ve said a thousand times that I love you.”

  “Yes. That is what makes your decision so odd.” She stared at him piercingly for a second, then brushed him off with a dismissive gesture and began to stride across the room toward the door. “Good-bye, Hawkscliffe. I’m going back to London.”

  He captured her arm as she passed him. “No,” he ground out.

  Her gaze flicked to his hand wrapped around her elbow, then up to his eyes. She glared at him with feverish wrath. “Don’t. . . touch me.”

  “You’re not leaving.”

  “You are not my lord and master.” She wrenched her arm free of his grasp. “I’ll call to collect my belongings from Knight House when you’re not at home. I earned them, after all.”

  “Where will you go? What will you do?” he demanded harshly, towering over her, purposely intimidating her, as if he could frighten her into obedience. “You have nothing to go back to without me.”

  She continued glaring up at him defiantly, her eyes snapping blue sparks. “Harriette will take me in. I’ll find a new protector—”

  “Over my dead body.”

  She gave him an icy smile. “Does that hurt you, the thought of me in another man’s arms? How does it feel?”

  “You will not go back to Harriette’s,” he said through clenched teeth. “Leave me if you must, but I forbid you to return to that—that whoredom. I’ll give you all the money you need—”

  “I don’t want your money!” she nearly screamed, shoving him back, though he barely moved a step. “How dare you? Don’t you ever learn?”

  She whirled on her heel toward the door, but he caught her again. She turned and punched him in the chest in futile fury, and he grasped her by her shoulders, talking gentle nonsense to her as he tried in desperation to still her.

  “Listen to me!” he finally cried, giving her shoulders a shake.

  “Let go!”

  “I need you,” he pleaded in a low, trembling voice. “Don’t go. You’re the only one who understands me. You’re my best friend, Bel—”

  “Then how can you treat me this way?” she whispered, tears in her eyes. She stopped fighting all of a sudden and looked away, lifting the back of her hand to her mouth to smother a small sob.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he breathed, unable to believe she was slipping through his fingers. Amid seething terror, he somehow persuaded his hands to loosen their hold on her soft shoulders, though everything was spinning out of his control. Now that he had begun to lose her, he couldn’t seem to make it stop. When he reached to touch her hair, she jerked away. “Come on, Bel. Stop this.”

  “Let me go. I understand, you can’t marry me, I’m not asking it of you. But in turn, you mustn’t ask me to dishonor myself any more deeply. Please, if you love me, Robert, let me go. I may be just a demirep, but I have a few principles myself. I have to draw the line somewhere or I’ll lose myself. I finally got myself back, thanks to you, your love. I would rather lose what we have than turn it into something sordid. I can’t go back to being ashamed. I’m sorry.”

  “I thought you loved me.”

  “If you’re going to marry her, do so honorably. Do your best to love her, if she is to be your wife.”

  “I love you,” he said angrily.

  “Well, I’m leaving you,” she whispered before stepping past him almost briskly.

  He grabbed her wrists, stopping her again. “No!”

  “Have pity, Robert! Before we get in any deeper— before it is impossible to say good-bye—let me walk away from you with a shred of my pride intact. Please, please—”

  “Belinda, I love you—”

  He reached to touch her, but she pulled free of his grasp and rushed out of his study, stifling a sob.

  “Belinda!”

  Hawk strode out of his study and saw her running down the corridor.

  “Belinda!”

  She didn’t look back, hurrying up the stairs. He could hear her sobbing over the rustle of her silken skirts.

  He started to go after her, but then her piteous plea to let her leave with dignity sank like a hook in his heart, pulling until it bled. He stopped himself, blind with confusion and loss and disbelief. He howled her name one more time, but when she did not appear, he slammed his fist into the wooden door, cracking it with a splintering thud. He leaned back against the doorframe and ran both hands through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

  Everything inside him raged to go after her—make her stay even if he had to lock her in her room till she obeyed. But if being his mistress would injure her fragile self-opinion, then he had no choice but to let her go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Harriette welcomed her back with open arms. Their reunion was a tearful one as Bel sobbed out her story to the Three Graces, all of whom went out of their way to comfort her.

  And so La Belle Hamilton was back on the game. Business was booming under Harriette’s roof. Bel allowed two types of men to court her—those who were far too old for her and those who were too young to be taken seriously. Then, on her fifth night back in Town, she went to the King’s Theater in the Haymarket and he was there.

  She was holding court in the opera box that he had paid for, surrounded, as usual, by sex-starved men, whom she laughingly abused with her wit, newly sharpened to a razor’s edge, when a strange prickling sensation descended upon her. Everything seemed to move slowly and the sound blurred into the background. Fluttering her fan, she looked across the great colorful vault of the opera house and saw him.

  He was sitting with his elbow on the chair arm, his fingers obscuring his mouth. He appeared not the slightest bit interested in the spectacle on stage. His eyes intense and fiery, he was staring only at her.

  The breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Her heart twisted and her fan went still. Her body flashed hot then cold, and she began to shake. She tore her gaze away, suddenly fanning herself frantically. She did not hear a word that anyone said to her.

  For about a minute and a half, she tried to sit there calmly and pretend nothing was wrong. She suddenly rose, making excuses as she fought her way free of the theater box. Men offered to escort her as she went striding haplessly down the hallway.

  “Leave me alone!” she cried to those who followed her, wrenching the showy plume out of her hair so hard that tears sp
rang into her eyes.

  In the lobby she sent one of the attendants for her vis-à-vis and fled the moment her capable new driver brought it round. She went home and cried herself to sleep. But when the morning came, she knew what she had to do.

  Harriette and the others were still in their beds after their late night. By the cool white light of morning, Bel gathered up the majority of her fancy gowns, packed them into her carriage, and brought them to the pawn shop, where they garnered her a fortune of nearly fifteen hundred pounds.

  She then directed her driver to Tattersalls, where she dismissed him with his pay and sold her elegant black little vis-à-vis and fine-blooded horses back to the auction house for another enormous sum—two thousand guineas. But she could not bring herself to part with the diamond-and-lapis-lazuli necklace Robert had given her as a gift on the night of the Cyprians’ Ball.

  Hiring a hackney coach to the bank, she deposited the drafts from the pawn shop into her account, along with the proceeds from the sale of the carriage. Signing her name to the deposit, she stared at the scribble of numbers, taken aback.

  The total came to thirty-five hundred pounds. She rolled three thousand of it into the funds, did a bit of figuring, and suddenly found herself in possession of a decent living. At five percent interest, the three thousand would yield her a hundred fifty pounds a year.

  She sat back and stared at it in amazement. She need only live a quiet, modest, simple life—the kind she had wanted in the first place—and she need never depend on anyone again. Not her rich admirers nor Harriette nor even Papa. It was poverty compared to what she had grown used to, but worlds above selling oranges. She would have this living and she need answer to no one. She wouldn’t be able to keep any more servants except perhaps a chambermaid, but for the first time in her life, she suddenly was... free and independent.

  She looked up in amazement toward the graceful dome of the bank and closed her eyes, silently blessing the friend who had made her small fortune possible.

  Oh, Robert, how I miss you, she thought, misery overtaking her moment of hope. But she gathered her reticule and left the bank, for there was still more to be done.