The Heart of a Duke

by Victoria Morgan

  She gripped her fishing rod with both hands. “I appreciate your helping me. If Edmund will not listen, you don’t perchance have any other ideas of what we can do?”

  He shifted his position on the hard bench. “Well, we still have the ace up our sleeve.”

  “What ace?”

  “You. Edmund has a right to reject my interference, but you are his fiancée, who can be very persuasive when she wishes to be. You got me to kiss—”

  “Yes, yes. Let us not revise that.” She ignored his low rumble of laughter.

  “Edmund must know of and admire your fine head for business. He has to be aware of how much of an asset you will be to him.”

  “Well, I am not sure . . . That is . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Daniel continued. “I can imagine that at the beginning of your courtship, Edmund, like most men, was dazzled by your beauty. That is understandable, but as he got to know you better, I am sure that, like myself, he saw how clever you are, so it is little surprise that he asked for your hand.”

  She did not think Daniel should be saying such things. He should not be discussing her dazzling beauty or her cleverness, but she could not summon up the will to stop him.

  “Edmund clearly perceived you to be an intelligent woman who spoke her mind. One he would want to keep at his side at all times.” He shrugged. “That is where I would keep you. If you were mine, I would never let you out of my sight. I would be afraid someone might steal you from me, for you would be my most valued asset. I would have to keep you under lock and key.”

  The sweet tenor of his voice was low and seductive, and like trailing a tantalizing aroma, she followed his words off topic and into dangerous territory. Riveted, she struggled to remember what they were discussing. Hadn’t a clue. All she heard was intelligent woman and most valued asset. Cheeks burning, she needed to end things before she couldn’t circle back to safety. “Please, you should not say such things.”

  “Why? It is the truth. Doesn’t Edmund tell you the same? Tell you how lovely you are and incredibly talented, being able to manage estates, wash dishes, sweep floors, and if asked, you probably could rebuild Lakeview Manor.” A huskiness entered his voice. “Or does he talk about the color of your eyes, how they shine like blue diamonds, or that your skin looks satin soft and how he must yearn—”

  “No, no, he does not,” she snapped, desperate to quiet him, for she could bear no more. “Please, what Edmund does or does not say is not relevant. What is important is that you cannot speak to me like that because I am marrying your brother, and—”

  “So you keep reminding me, which makes it difficult to forget,” Daniel grumbled. “And I really want to forget it.”

  She stared at him. When his eyes met hers, she froze, for she read in them things she shouldn’t see. The smoldering intensity in his expression stirred feelings she didn’t want to feel. Touched places that had never been touched. Forbidden feelings and dangerous places. Her breath hitched and her heart ached.

  She looked away. This would not do. “You need to try,” she whispered. “For me. For the sake of our friendship.”

  Silence fell and Daniel said no more. He reeled his line in, lifted it from the water, and recast into the lake.

  She resisted the urge to press her hand to her chest, where a throbbing ache pulsed.

  She sought to appreciate the beauty of the crisp day, the windswept lake, and the distant cry of a songbird. She used to steal away to Lakeview Manor, its tranquility settling her during those years when her life had been in turmoil. She prayed for it to settle her now.

  But she couldn’t focus. It was all a blur as Daniel’s words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Eyes like blue diamonds. Satin-soft skin. Dazzling beauty. They were more compliments she would add to the keepsake box deep in her heart, where she could take them out and savor later, when she had no others to fill it. When she sought to recapture this moment, the touch of his hand, the sound of his voice . . .

  “I have a bite,” Daniel cried, jarring her from her thoughts.

  Daniel jostled her as he stood, severing the spell that had woven around her. She shook her head and stood on unsteady legs.

  “He is strong.” He struggled to reel in his catch.

  “Hang on,” she said, finding her voice. As she watched his line stretch taut, her nerves settled. The wind whipped her skirts around her and cooled her overheated body. She resisted the urge to reach out and grasp his fishing rod and tug with him as she would have with Jonathan. “Don’t let it get away.”

  “What do you think I am doing? He is not budging.” He grunted as he yanked harder, the wooden rod arching in a half moon. “It is caught on something. Rooted.”

  “Fish do not put down roots.”

  “Tell that to this one,” he muttered, leaning back. “His friends are helping him, holding him back. Fish are smart, they swim in schools.”

  Her gaze was glued to the line, but at his banal jest, she glanced up in surprise. It was a mistake, for his eyes danced with laughter and she feared she diagnosed the throbbing pain in her chest. Feared it was her heart being wrenched in two.

  His smile faded, his eyes shifting back to the rod. “Ah, why don’t you give me a hand? Even things out?”

  His words shattered her immobility, though she hesitated before placing her gloved hands over his, adding her strength.

  “Now it is fair game,” he said, grinning.

  He retreated a few steps and she stayed with him, frowning as the line refused to break the surface. “What . . .” Her question ended in a screech, for suddenly the line broke free with an explosive splash of water.

  The tension abruptly released like a popped cork and Daniel lost his balance, stumbling backward.

  Involuntarily she sought to assist him as his arm circled her waist.

  His knees backed into the overturned trunk, and the next thing she knew, she was tumbling over the makeshift bench.

  She cried out, vaguely aware of Daniel catching her against his side as they landed with a thud that knocked the wind from her. Daniel’s body cushioned her fall, as much as a rock-solid muscular chest could soften anything.

  Daniel grunted as her elbow connected with his stomach and she ended up sprawled half on him, half beside him. Mortified at the feel of his body intimately aligned with hers, the heat of him seeping through her riding habit, she quickly rolled to the side, too winded to speak or sidle farther away. She hoped the fall had knocked some sense into her.

  “Who’s idea was this?” Daniel groaned.

  “You never could catch anything.”

  Rather than take offense at her comments as Edmund might have, his laughter vibrated through her side in a delicious ripple.

  He turned his head to face her, and his proximity stole what little breath she had managed to draw. Good lord, he was handsome. She wanted to reach out and press her finger into that enticing cleft in his chin.

  “I caught you,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek.

  It was then she realized it was not a branch digging into her back but Daniel’s arm, and he was slowly drawing her closer.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped.

  “Reeling you in.”

  His arms were like iron bands, her body now sprawled on top of his, one of her legs intimately tucked between his.

  “Let go of me!” She squirmed, then stilled when his grip tightened at her movements. The shock of his body beneath hers, a sturdy muscular wall of strength, had her hesitating, for her hips were intimately pressed to his. Mortified, she shoved at his chest, but found it immovable.

  Her eyes widened when he lifted his head to sniff at her neck, as if she were a puppy dog. “What are you doing?” She arched away.

  “Rosemary and mint.” He sounded pleased.

  A calloused finger skimmed the curve of her cheek. She stared into his mesmerizing eyes. She was so close she could see the rim of black circling his irises, feel each breath he drew gently l
ifting her, savor his arms, strong and cradling her to him. Holding her. If only she could stay there for just a little while longer.

  When Daniel’s fingers moved from her cheek to her lips in a featherlight touch, it brought her back to her senses. Her voice shook as she spoke. “You must stop. This is not proper.”

  “And you are always proper?”

  The husky cadence sent shivers down her spine and goose bumps rising on her arms. It took all her willpower to ignore them, for the answer was yes. Despite her desperately wishing it was no. She wished to be that girl who first met Daniel, reckless, daring, and so very improper. To lean low and press her lips to his as she had done that fateful day. To touch him as her heart yearned to do.

  But it was not to be.

  She was the dutiful daughter of an earl. She was proper, dependable, and responsible.

  And she was marrying his brother.

  She twisted away, the tear in her heart widening, her vision blurring. “I cannot. Please. I cannot,” she cried, planting her hands on his chest and scrambling to her feet. She swiped at a blinding strand of her hair that had tumbled loose in her fall, securing it behind her ear. “I have to go. I have to go now.” She cursed the breaking hitch in her voice.

  “Julia, wait,” he called, leaping to his feet. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I apologize. Please, if I promise to behave and keep my distance, please stay.”

  She could not. They had crossed over the boundary between them. If she stayed, she questioned her ability to redraw it, or Daniel’s ability to remain on his side of it. “I cannot. I have to go. Good-bye, Daniel.”

  She left her fishing rod and hurried down the path and up the hill to where she had tethered Constance, not daring to look back to see if Daniel followed. Untying the horse, she guided her to a mounting perch on the stone wall.

  “Julia.”

  Face flaming, she glanced over her shoulder from her seat on Constance. Daniel stood a few yards from her, his cravat askew and his thick hair attractively tousled. He looked so heart-wrenchingly handsome that her pulse gave a traitorous leap.

  “We discussed why I had left, but the more important issue is why I returned.” The intensity in his gaze had her bracing herself for his next words. “I think I was meant to return for you. To help you.” He opened his mouth to say something more, but then closed it. “And I promise to do so.”

  Her lips parted, her heart hammering against her chest. The silence grew until she gave Constance a gentle nudge with her heel, urging her toward Taunton Court.

  I think I was meant to come home for you.

  A wave of anguish had her nearly crumbling, for she had waited forever to hear such words. But from Edmund. Edmund should have been there for her. But he had never been—or not as Daniel had managed to be over the last week. Daniel had made her feel beautiful, like the woman she wished she were. He made her feel intelligent and desired. He made her smile. He made her laugh. And she hadn’t had much to laugh about in a long, long time.

  The tears pooling in her eyes were nearly blinding. She cursed Daniel, for she had always been sure of herself, and he made her uncertain. She had always known what she wanted, and he was making her question that.

  Worse, he had her wondering if perhaps . . . perhaps she wanted something different.

  Something she could never have.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE grand entrance of Bedford Hall, with its spacious fifty-foot-high ceiling, was a portrait in palatial splendor and opulence. A marble staircase climbed to the second-story balcony where the molding was of gilded bronze with decorative leaves and fruit, and elaborate fleur-de-lis punctuating the corners. A dazzling chandelier hung suspended beneath a Rubenesque oil painting of voluptuous angels, hovering over them as if poised to swoop down and bless all visitors.

  Edmund had added the painting after his father’s death to highlight the baroque architecture of the house that was built in the sixteenth century. When her father had seen Edmund’s addition, he had quoted Shakespeare’s King John, commenting for once that the misguided king had gotten it right. “To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw perfume on the violet, . . . is wasteful and ridiculous excess.” Julia had wisely withheld judgment, for it was to be her home. She hoped to rein in Edmund’s excesses as her mother had done with her father. The estate might be making a profit, but it was too high a price to pay if used to cover such ostentatious displays.

  Upon her arrival, the coaches lining the drive had surprised her, for she had believed it to be an intimate dinner party with her family and Edmund in attendance. She should have guessed that was not to be the case. Like his decorating, Edmund never did anything on a small scale. His idea of an intimate party would be limiting the guest list to a mere hundred.

  She followed Emily into the formal drawing room. Three enormous chandeliers cast flickering highlights over the burgundy furnishings, crystal decanters, and Oriental rug. Six alabaster columns lined the room, and guests clustered in scattered groups. The women’s pastel gowns created a mosaic of color, their jewels catching in the dancing light, while the gentlemen provided a sharp contrast in their formal black.

  Many of the faces were familiar, and all appeared to be members of the peerage. Her gaze swept the room, searching for Edmund, while struggling to tamp down the unfamiliar nerves that flapped like large bats, rather than genteel butterflies, in her belly. She neatened the satin skirts of her rose-colored gown, pressing an unsteady hand to her stomach to settle her nerves.

  “I thought it was to be just the family,” Emily murmured.

  She caught the dismay in her sister’s voice and slipped her arm around Emily’s waist, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Emily was improving with crowds, but made limited appearances at large gatherings of the ton. “As did I. I am sorry, Emily.”

  “Regrets already? We cannot have that. Please, forgive me for not greeting you immediately and allow me to make it up to you.”

  Julia whirled, her heart hammering at the sight of Edmund in all his formal attire standing before her. He looked a picture of refined elegance and so incredibly handsome, he stole her breath as he gave her a blinding smile, dipping into a low bow.

  He caught her hand and raised it to his lips, his eyes shining into hers. “My lovely fiancée, it has been too long. I had forgotten how beautiful you are, and how fortunate I am.” He pressed his lips to her gloved hand. “I am so glad you are here to remind me.”

  It was disconcerting to see this mirror image of Daniel, yet with subtle differences. Like looking through an altered reflection of him.

  Edmund was heavier set and thicker in the neck. His hair was the same rich dark brown, but worn slightly shorter, and he stared at her with Daniel’s beautiful, moss green eyes. His black jacket and waistcoat were pristine, no foppish pins marring his muslin cravat. He looked every inch the regal duke, and she found herself responding to the title, rather than the man. “Welcome home, Your Grace.”

  He arched a brow. “Your Grace, is it? I have clearly been remiss in my affections if we have returned to formalities. Please, it is Edmund, and now you have something to remember.”

  “Edmund.” She smiled, feeling the familiar jump in her pulse rate, and was glad of it.

  He greeted her sister. “Emily, it is an honor to have you joining us and looking as lovely as always.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Emily replied, dropping into a curtsy.

  “And where is your father? Ah, here is the earl now. Taunton, welcome to my humble estate.” Edmund dipped in another bow.

  “Hmph,” her father grunted. “Nothing humble about you, Edmund. Never has been. I was admiring the odd statue on your front portico. It has two heads.”

  Edmund looked pleased. “You had the honor of meeting Janus, the god of new beginnings. He usually stands sentry at doorways and gates. Two headed so he can look to the future and past. I carried him home from Rome in the hopes that he will keep an eye on mine.” His e
yes strayed to Julia, his voice like a soft caress. “Particularly my future, as I have bright hopes for it.”

  Her eyes widened. Wait until she told Daniel that.

  She shook her head at the stray thought. Janus would have to look out for Daniel, for he was firmly in her past.

  Her father looked wary. “I cannot boast to knowing much about Roman gods, but I cannot say I trust one with two heads. I like to meet a man eye-to-eye, and how am I suppose to do that if he has four of them?”

  “Fair point, sir. I had not considered that, but will do so.” Edmund’s response was solemn, but Julia caught the slight twitch to his lips.

  “While you contemplate the matter, I see the Belhams over there,” Emily intervened. “Why don’t we say hello to them. Father? You enjoy Lord Belham, don’t you?”

  “I do, he has a fine stable. Should have one, considering he filled it with half of Tanner’s prime stock. Bought a mare I had my eye on,” he grumbled.

  “All the more reason to speak to him. Perhaps you can persuade him to sell.” Emily glanced at Julia, sharing a discreet eye roll with her. “Your Grace.” She curtsied, looped her arm through their father’s, and led him away.

  “I apologize for any aspersions my father cast on your new acquisition,” Julia said.

  “No apologies needed. He gave me something to mull over when the vicar is droning on and I run out of daydreaming material.” He grinned. “Now then, I have been remiss as a host. We must get you some punch and catch up where we left off the last time we were together. As I said, it has been too long.”

  And whose fault is that? Julia’s smile wavered as the annoying voice piped up.

  Edmund lifted his arm, and she curled hers through it. The thick, masculine strength of it reminded her of another, and she bit her lip. She forced her attention to Edmund, who was speaking.

  “You look worried. Don’t. I promise you, Janus will be fine. He is sculpted of granite, so his hide better withstand the elements as well as a few verbal slings, or I will have paid a fortune for a fake.”