The Duke of Danger

by Burke, Darcy

  Lionel saw her father’s reaction to their sudden marriage for what it was—the best possible way for him to be rid of his daughter and gain a prominent son-in-law. He looked forward to giving the man a proper set-down for treating his daughter in such a fashion. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know this isn’t your ideal marriage.” He nearly laughed at how insufficiently that described their arrangement. “However, I promise it will be better than remaining with your parents.”

  “I never would’ve been allowed to do that. I would be on my way to wedding Sir Duncan Thayer.” She shrugged. “Maybe he wouldn’t have been so bad. He certainly would’ve been better than my parents.”

  He wondered if the fact that they’d chosen him had made him seem even worse and decided even if it did, he couldn’t blame her. Eyeing the book in her hand, he knew she wanted to own the choices in her life. “What can I do to make things better for you?”

  Her gaze connected with his, and he could see she was a bit puzzled by the question.

  “I know I helped you—at least a little—by giving you my name and settling Townsend’s debts, but there has to be more I can do.” He uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the desk, moving to stand as close to her as he dared. A few feet separated them. “You told me you couldn’t ever be happy. I refuse to accept that. Tell me what I can do to make that happen.”

  She stared at him, and he realized he could get quite used to her looking at him without anger or resentment firing her gaze. In fact, he could find himself craving it.

  “I’ve actually been thinking about that today,” she said softly. “With Jade.”

  “Jade?”

  Her gaze shot to the kitten curled in front of the fireplace. “The cat. Her eyes are green.”

  “An excellent name. What did Jade help you decide?”

  Her gaze trailed from his, moving to the cat, and he was sorry for the loss. “I’m not sure yet,” she said.

  “Well, whatever it is, I hope it’s more of this. I enjoy this far more than battling.”

  She stiffened, and he wished he could take back what he’d said. He’d never meant to ruin this moment. She took a deep breath that made her shoulders rise before looking back to him. “About that… I apologize for my behavior earlier. I don’t expect you to give up your friendships on my account. We’ll simply find a way to…share them.”

  “West and Ivy would appreciate that. I know they like us both and would protest at having to choose.”

  The barest hint of a smile teased her lips, but she suppressed it before it could reach fruition. Damn, he’d give anything to see her smile. He tried to remember what it looked like, but couldn’t. He simply hadn’t paid much attention to her before. He regretted that.

  “Yes, they would. I should go upstairs. Thank you for your help with the book.”

  He didn’t want her to leave. A reason to beg a few more minutes with her came to mind. “Before you go, have you seen the flood of invitations that arrived today?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes glinted with humor. It wasn’t a smile, but it was close enough for him to bask in it. “There are so many of them. Is that typical for you?”

  “No.” Especially not after he returned from self-exile. People had been wary of him after the last time—killing someone in a duel would garner that response—and the invitations had been slow at first.

  This time, however, they’d been nearly nonexistent. Until he’d married Emmaline. Curiosity was clearly crushing righteousness.

  “Our marriage has sparked a wave of interest,” he said.

  “Yes, I’m afraid it has. I’d thought it might, of course, but I admit I didn’t really consider how to address it, particularly given our arrangement.”

  He hadn’t given it much thought either, but then he’d barely given the marriage much thought. She’d asked for his protection, and he’d gone about setting things in motion without considering the social ramifications. “I find it’s best to ignore gossip. If there are any events you’d like to attend, do so.”

  “But should we”—she paused for a second as if summoning the courage to continue—“go together?”

  “It would be amusing to say the least—watching people’s faces as we strolled into a ballroom arm in arm.” He grinned, recalling the buzz when they’d danced together. This would be ten times that reaction.

  She cocked her head to the side and regarded him in bemusement. “You’ve a strange sense of humor.”

  “The ton is full of ninnyhammers and idiots, and I enjoy watching them act like it.”

  “I suppose that’s better than letting their behavior antagonize you.”

  “Exactly.” He looked at her with concern, edging slightly closer to her. “They aren’t, antagonizing you, are they?”

  “Hardly, but then I’ve been hiding the past two days. I suppose I should go out. I’d like to go out, actually. I’ve spent the last several months in mourning. I’m—this sounds terrible—bored.”

  He laughed. “Of course you are. I do believe venturing out will improve matters. If you would like me to accompany you somewhere, you need only ask.”

  “Thank you. I’ll, er, think about it.” She stepped to the side, angling herself toward the door. “And now, good night. Thank you again for the book.”

  As she walked from the room, the kitten jumped up and ran to follow her.

  “Thank you for the conversation,” he said.

  She didn’t turn, but he didn’t care. Tonight had been an unqualified success. He could live in a marriage like this—no battles, no animosity, no dreading a bleak, lonely future.

  That depended on how one defined lonely. They might be moving into a tentative truce, but that didn’t mean they would become friends, and he certainly didn’t expect them to become lovers.

  Did he even want that? She was certainly beautiful, and he was attracted to her physically. But he’d been attracted to many women physically. However, something about her was different. Or maybe he just looked at her differently. She wasn’t a woman he could flirt with or seduce. Their conversation tonight, particularly her revelations about her parents, had moved him.

  Why? Because for the span of their encounter, he’d forgotten the guilt and pain he suffered daily since killing her husband. She’d been a balm to his soul, and the irony of that nearly brought him to his knees.

  This wouldn’t do. He’d earned his torture, and he certainly didn’t deserve her kindness. But neither could he refuse it. He owed it to her to accept whatever she gave him, whether it was anger or sadness or elation or anything in between. What he wanted didn’t matter. It had ceased to matter when he’d shot and killed Townsend.

  So long as she found happiness, that would be enough.

  * * *

  The coach bumped along Park Lane on the way to the Colne ball. Emmaline settled back against the seat, idly listening to her two friends, Ivy and Lucy, the Countess of Dartford and a close friend of Ivy’s. They sat opposite Emmaline, discussing their children. Emmaline, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking of her husband, much to her chagrin.

  She’d scarcely seen him the past two days, having spent yesterday outside London at Lucy’s country home where she’d taught Emmaline to shoot. Ivy had accompanied them, with Leah, but had played the role of spectator.

  Following their encounter in the library, Emmaline had worked doubly hard to stay away from Axbridge. Everything about it had been far too intimate. Or maybe that was her mind fooling her. The first book she’d picked up from the shelf that night had been Fanny Hill, a decidedly graphic novel. She’d skimmed through it, her body tingling into awareness. When she’d begun to imagine doing some of the things described with Axbridge, she’d practically thrown it back onto the shelf, then picked up Jade to distract herself.

  Intimate indeed.

  But then he’d come into the room, and the temperature had risen by several degrees. They’d shared a charming and informative conversation, which had left her hating him far less. If s
he hated him at all. He’d been warm and caring and even witty. No, she wasn’t sure she could muster hate, especially not after the way she’d dreamed about him later that night.

  After leaving the library, she’d gone upstairs but hadn’t been able to read. She’d been too consumed with replaying their meeting in her head. She’d finally dozed but had been jolted awake by the kitten attacking her feet. Jade had interrupted the most sensual dream Emmaline had ever had. Involving Axbridge. Naked. And absolutely glorious.

  “Emmaline?”

  Lucy’s voice splintered into her haze. Emmaline shook her head. “What’s that?”

  “I was asking if Axbridge would be coming to the ball later.”

  “Yes.” After he’d encouraged her to venture out of the house the other night, Emmaline had contemplated the invitations and sent a note to Ivy for input on which to attend. Ivy had suggested the Colne ball, saying that she and Lucy planned to attend and offering that they all go together. Relieved to have company, Emmaline had welcomed the plan and informed Axbridge via a note. He’d written back saying he would also attend but arrive later.

  “Are you nervous?” Ivy asked, her brow furrowed.

  “A bit.” Emmaline grasped that excuse because she didn’t want to tell them what she’d really been thinking.

  Lucy gave her a warm smile. “We’ll be right by your side. And you know neither one of us will suffer obnoxiousness from anyone—I don’t care who they are.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your support so much.”

  “We’re happy to help,” Ivy said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t ask, but does the fact that Axbridge is meeting you there mean things have improved between you?”

  “We’ve reached a place where civility reigns. I have no intention to improve things beyond that. This is still a marriage of convenience, and it will always be.” If only the recesses of her mind, or wherever dreams came from, understood that.

  Ivy looked at her sadly while Lucy simply nodded once and said, “That is an improvement. Better to get on well even if it’s never to be a love match.”

  Emmaline appreciated her response. “Thank you.”

  “And…” Lucy started, giving Emmaline a briefly apologetic look before her eyes lit with mischief. “Pardon my bluntness, but we’re friends, are we not? At least your convenient marriage is to a man with good looks and a reputation of being an excellent lover. So while the emotion may be absent, you can perhaps enjoy the physical aspects.” She winked at Emmaline and then looked to Ivy with a grin.

  When Ivy didn’t return the smile, Lucy sobered.

  “They aren’t doing that,” Ivy said, darting a look toward Emmaline as if to verify this was still true.

  Despite her dreams to the contrary, she had no desire to bed her husband. “No, we are not.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. “Ever? That’s an awfully long time to remain celibate.” She lifted her hand to her mouth for a moment, then gave her head a small shake. “I’m terribly sorry. Perhaps there’s a reason you don’t wish to pursue that side of marriage. You were, after all, married before. I’m being quite insensitive.”

  This, of all things, made Emmaline chuckle. “No, you are not. You are being a friend, and this is an odd situation. I rather enjoyed that side of my marriage.” Until Geoffrey had stopped coming to her bed several months into their union. Out of necessity, she’d learned methods of self-pleasure, and that was adequate.

  Adequate? her mind demanded. You’re married to a man who could surely take you beyond adequate.

  Emmaline silently told her head to keep its opinions to itself.

  But weren’t those really her opinions? Hell and the devil, Axbridge would drive her mad if she wasn’t careful.

  Her body instinctively reacted, pushing her to realize Geoffrey hadn’t ever made her feel quite this way. Axbridge made her heart race just by walking into the same room. And while she could attribute that to being on her guard with him, it was more than that. Her temperature also rose, as if she were burning up from the inside. After her rather explicit dream last night, she felt certain it wasn’t due to anger, but something she didn’t want to consider. Not with him.

  Lucy adjusted her glove as the coach drew to a stop. “Well, if you decide you want more from your marriage of convenience, don’t be afraid to take it.”

  Emmaline had managed to read part of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman yesterday, and it had given her a sense of hope for her murky future. She suspected Wollstonecraft would support Lucy’s advice. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Are we ready to enter the fray?” Ivy asked.

  A burst of anxiety washed over Emmaline, but she tamped it down. This first appearance in Society would be challenging, but with her friends at her side, she could face it. “I’m ready.”

  A short while later, they made their way into the ballroom. Right away, heads began to turn, and conversation seemed to dwindle, then sharply increase. Emmaline kept her head up and allowed Lucy to guide them to a trio of women. The oldest was Lady Satterfield, who was quite well respected in Society. She greeted Emmaline warmly.

  “Good evening, Lady Axbridge. How lovely you look. I wish you much happiness in your marriage.”

  Emmaline knew that Lady Satterfield’s daughter-in-law, Nora, the Duchess of Kendal—who stood to Lady Satterfield’s left—was a good friend of Lucy, Ivy, and of the woman standing on Lady Satterfield’s other side, Lady Sutton. What Emmaline didn’t know was if any of them knew what Ivy and Lucy did: that her marriage wasn’t a real one.

  “Yes, felicitations to you,” Lady Sutton, whose name was Aquilla, said. Emmaline had met her on a number of occasions, but they hadn’t ever formed a close bond. Likely because Emmaline had been the woman that Aquilla’s husband had been considering for a wife before he’d married Aquilla. They’d never discussed the topic.

  “Thank you.”

  Lady Satterfield looked at her earnestly. “People may be grossly presumptuous and ask about your marriage tonight. Just remember to smile and laugh. That will completely throw them off.”

  Emmaline laughed softly. “I appreciate the advice.”

  “Yes, just like that,” Lady Satterfield said approvingly. She turned to Ivy. “I wanted to ask you about the benefit for the orphanage. How are responses?”

  “Exceeding my expectations, actually. I don’t know if it’s because people genuinely want to help or if they just want to hear Mrs. Pascale sing.”

  Emmaline wasn’t entirely certain what they were talking about. She knew Mrs. Pascale was the latest Italian soprano to come to London. “Are you hosting a musicale?”

  “Of sorts, yes,” Ivy said. “It’s a benefit for the St. James’ Foundling Hospital. Their building is in grave disrepair. We sent invitations and asked that they arrive with at least fifty pounds to give to the hospital. Those giving more, or pledging to give on an annual basis, will be seated near the front.”

  “What a capital idea.” Emmaline realized she hadn’t seen this invitation in the pile Axbridge had given her. “Did you invite Axbridge and me?”

  “I sent it before you were wed. Axbridge is attending. It’s in a fortnight. You should come, of course.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Emmaline knew that Ivy provided assistance to the orphanage as well as a few workhouses. She’d used her position and influence to bring attention to their plight. Perhaps this would be a way for Emmaline to direct her time. Heaven knew she needed something.

  “Would you like to go to the orphanage with me? I read to the children or teach them things such as reading, writing, or even sewing.”

  “I would be delighted, thank you.” Knowing she wouldn’t have children of her own, this would be a way to perhaps fill that void. Her chest tightened, but she was saved from falling further into her emotions by the arrival of a friend of Lady Satterfield’s.

  They made idle conversation for a moment before Lady Satterfield and the woman took a stroll. Over the next hour, people
stopped to offer their congratulations to Emmaline. They looked at Emmaline with interest, but none were cheeky enough to ask any questions. At one point, Nora and Ivy went to the retiring room, and Lucy’s husband came to ask his wife to dance. This left Emmaline alone with Aquilla.

  Emmaline looked askance at the other woman. She was very pretty, with vivid blue eyes and warm brown curls that framed her face. She sidled closer to Emmaline.

  “I was sorry to hear about your first husband,” she said softly. She looked at her apologetically. “I sent a note of condolence, but I haven’t seen you since then.”

  Momentarily surprised, Emmaline couldn’t find her tongue.

  “Which seems odd,” Aquilla said. “Well not odd. Perhaps unfortunate. We should be friends, like the rest of them are. But I understand if you’d prefer not to be.”

  “I think we’re friends.”

  “No, I mean friends. For instance, I would gladly stand beside you tonight—I know it can’t be easy. People are nosy and judgmental.” She rolled her eyes. “Awful, in many cases.”

  Emmaline nodded. “I think I’ve been quite lucky tonight.”

  “Yes, they’ve been well-behaved. To your face.”

  Emmaline angled toward her. “You’ve heard something?” Aquilla had left them earlier to speak to someone.

  “Oh, sometimes I talk too much.” Aquilla winced. “My apologies. It wasn’t anything bad, just speculation about why you would marry Lord Axbridge. I’m afraid I interjected. I may have suggested you and he fell madly in love.”

  Emmaline lifted a hand to her gaping mouth. “You didn’t.”

  “I did. I told you I talk too much.” She laughed. “Anyway, it put an end to their gossip. At least in front of me. I’m sure there’s a rumor circulating that you and Axbridge are a love match.”

  Could anything be further from the truth? Emmaline smiled in spite of that. “Thank you. You are a friend. I hope you don’t think I bear any grudge toward you. Sutton and I were not meant to be.”