The Duke of Danger

by Burke, Darcy

  “Thank you. I appreciate hearing that. I hated thinking that he may have broken your heart, even though it seemed he hadn’t.”

  “In truth, my parents were more invested in the match than I was. I wanted to fall in love.” It was her turn to give Aquilla a look of apology. “I didn’t fall in love with Sutton.”

  Aquilla laughed. “Oh good! I mean, I can’t understand why you wouldn’t, but I’m ever so glad.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth, and Emmaline felt more comfortable than she had all night.

  “I take it you fell in love with Townsend? Since you eloped with him.”

  “Yes.” And just like that, her enjoyment faded. “At least I thought it was love.” She shook her head, wishing she could take the words back. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now anyway.”

  It looked like Aquilla was going to ask her something else, but they were interrupted by a hush in the crowd. Emmaline looked to the side and saw Axbridge walking toward them. Her entire body tensed, anticipation curling through her. Anticipation?

  Yes.

  It was the same as last week, when she’d orchestrated their meeting with the intention of giving him the cut direct. No, it wasn’t the same. Then she’d been full of outrage and frustration. Tonight, she was something different. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to identify what that was.

  He came to stand before her and offered a deep bow. “My lady. Would you care to dance?”

  “It’s the middle of a set.” It was all she could think to say.

  “Then we can take a promenade until the next one.”

  She didn’t want to promenade with him. He would touch her. The heat that was already blooming inside her would expand. But to deny him would invite attention. So would walking with him. Anything she did would invite attention. She need only decide which sort of attention she preferred.

  “All right.” She gave him her hand and looked toward Aquilla, whose lips were curved in the barest smile. “Please excuse us.”

  “Of course,” Aquilla murmured.

  As Emmaline put her hand on Axbridge’s arm, Ivy and Lucy returned. Neither said anything, but watched Emmaline walk away with her husband.

  “How is your evening?” Axbridge asked as he steered her around the perimeter of the ballroom.

  “Fine. I’ve made plans to go to the Foundling Hospital with Ivy.”

  “Have you? How lovely.”

  Was he merely being polite or did he truly care about the cause? “She told me about the benefit she and Clare are hosting. Were you going to invite me to attend?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, actually. My apologies.”

  As they walked, heads turned and conversation fell to a whisper. “What do you think they’re saying?” she mused aloud, distracted from their topic.

  “I know what they’re saying, that I’m a lucky scoundrel.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. How did one duel three times and emerge unscathed while his opponents had all been damaged? She bit back the question even as curiosity burned through her. This wasn’t the time or place, but perhaps someday she would ask.

  They walked in silence for a moment before he asked, “No one has bothered you tonight?”

  “No, but people are wondering about us, of course. Lady Sutton did tell someone it was possible we fell madly in love.”

  “Did she?” The query rumbled over her, low and deep, rousing the heat within her to a dangerously high level.

  She wanted to tell him to stop it. But stop what? Talking to her? Touching her? Simply existing?

  Emmaline fought to regain her head. “About the musicale that Ivy and West are hosting, I should like to attend. As for the rest, if you give me a list, I’ll let you know.”

  “I’ll do that.” He abruptly led her out onto the patio, where it was dark and far less populated.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “You seem tense. I thought you might benefit from a brief respite.”

  The cool night air blew over her, and she had to admit it felt wonderful, especially given the way he made her feel. She withdrew her hand from his arm. She needed that respite too.

  Strolling to the edge of the patio, she looked out over the garden. It wasn’t terribly large, but there was a path with lights as well as a few darkened areas where couples could steal a moment—or two—of privacy.

  “Will it be terrible if I don’t dance with you?” she asked.

  He came to stand beside her but didn’t move too close. “No, but it won’t support the madly-in-love theory.”

  “I don’t care what people think.”

  “Don’t you? That’s good to know. I do, actually.”

  She peered over at him, his face in shadow since the lantern was behind them. “A man with your reputation cares what people think?”

  He turned and looked at her. “Which reputation is that?”

  “You’re the Duke of Danger. That’s not exactly flattering.”

  He arched a brow, displaying a touch of humor. “Actually, I’ve been led to believe it makes me somehow alluring.” His expression dimmed, and he glanced out over the garden. “But I agree with your assessment. I can’t, however, change things, no matter how much I may want to.”

  Was he referring specifically to his duels? “And you do?”

  His gaze bore into hers. “With every breath. Every single day.”

  “Oh!” A gentleman laughed as he guided his lady past them. “We didn’t mean to interrupt the newly married.” He winked at Axbridge, prompting Emmaline to roll her eyes.

  Axbridge gave them a friendly smile. “Please don’t concern yourselves.”

  “Really, don’t,” Emmaline muttered.

  Axbridge offered her his arm once more. “I think you do care what people think.”

  She took his arm. “Fine, I’ll dance with you. It sounds as though the next set will be starting.”

  He guided her back toward the ballroom. “It will be my honor.”

  They joined the dancers forming the line, and for the next half hour, Emmaline was treated to the attentions of a skilled dancer, a charming conversationalist, and the envious stares of several women. Didn’t they know what he was? Or did they not care?

  Every time he touched her during the dance, she had to ask herself the same questions. Yes, she knew what he was and she absolutely cared, but her body didn’t. The conversation she’d had in the coach with Lucy and Ivy came back to her: “If you decide you want more from your marriage of convenience, don’t be afraid to take it.”

  She looked at him, his frame perfectly filling his dark blue suit, his mouth curved up in enjoyment. He was exceptionally handsome, and she supposed she understood the envy, especially if they thought he was madly in love with her.

  Which he wasn’t.

  Nor do you want him to be!

  The dance came to a merciful close, and he escorted her from the dance floor. “I’m going to take my leave,” he said. “Unless you’d prefer I stay.”

  “I do not.” She was too aware of his heat beneath her hand, despite the layers of clothing separating her fingers from his arm. “But I do thank you for the dance.”

  “Did you enjoy yourself? You smiled. I don’t know that I’ve seen you smile before.”

  She didn’t answer but looked up at him as they stopped a few feet from her friends. He watched her intently. “Promise me you’ll do it again,” he whispered before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

  It had been so long since she’d been kissed. It should have been a chaste brush of his lips on her flesh, but she felt it everywhere. She stared at him as desire blossomed inside her. This couldn’t be happening. Not with him.

  He took her hand from his arm and gave her another bow. “Good evening, my lady.”

  Then he turned and walked away from her, and she simply stood there, her body fuming with need.

  “What kind of woman marries her husband’s murderer?” a woman asked not far away.

  “I
t certainly looks as though they’re in love,” came the response.

  “I can’t believe it. But why else would she marry him, I suppose?”

  Without thinking, Emmaline spun to look at the two women who were having this conversation within her earshot. They both stared at her in horror, clearly not realizing, until too late, that they’d spoken loudly enough to be heard.

  Because I’m better off.

  Am I?

  Yes. Geoffrey ran you into insurmountable debt. He was unfaithful. He wasn’t the man you thought he was.

  She thought back to the day when Axbridge had paid for Geoffrey’s funeral. She’d had a fleeting thought that he’d done her a favor… Could that be true?

  Oh God. She couldn’t be happy that Geoffrey was dead. But relieved? Yes, she was relieved. Which made her selfish and horrible.

  And apparently the kind of woman who married her husband’s murderer.

  Chapter 7

  A week had passed since he’d first seen her smile, and he’d seen it precisely three times since—all when she was in public at some event or other, and he saw them from a distance. They were never for him. Perhaps today would be different.

  He realized he was nervous as he waited for her. He paced over the cobbled stones, darting glances toward the alley that led to the street. At last, she rounded the corner.

  She strode toward him, the skirt of her riding habit flowing around her legs as she moved. Her costume was impeccable—and brand-new. She’d been busy remaking her wardrobe, and he’d paid every bill. Not only was that their agreement, he was happy to do it.

  She looked marvelous in the rich blue color with its ornamental braiding in gold. But it was the shirt and cravat that drew his eye. Slightly masculine and yet wholly feminine. As was her jaunty hat, a black beaver that was simply smaller than a man’s and adorned with gold ribbon.

  “Your new habit is stunning,” he said as she approached.

  She brushed a hand—encased in a blue kid glove—over her skirt. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure if it was my style.”

  “It suits you immensely.”

  She looked at him expectantly, eagerly almost. He couldn’t tell if it was excitement simmering just beneath her carefully controlled exterior, but thought it might be.

  “Now you just need a horse to ride.” He turned and nodded toward the groom before looking back at her. “I do hope you like her.” He pivoted so he could watch her as the groom led the animal out.

  Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “How?” She said nothing more as she moved slowly toward the beautiful white horse. “Pearl.”

  The horse whinnied and nuzzled Emmaline as soon as she drew close. Emmaline put her arms around the horse’s neck and rested her face against Pearl’s, murmuring soft endearments.

  Lionel watched, his heart expanding with joy.

  When Emmaline lifted her head, he swore there were tears in her eyes, but she turned her focus to the horse. “How did you find her?” she asked, her voice raspy. “I never knew who bought her—Mr. Fuller took care of the sale.”

  “He kept a record.”

  “How did you manage to get her back?” She glanced at him, but it was brief.

  “Everything can be had for a price. I’m glad to see you reunited.”

  She looked at him then, her eyes bluer than he’d ever seen them. “No one has ever done anything like this for me. Thank you.”

  No one? Given what he knew of her family and her worthless former husband, he oughtn’t have been surprised. Still, he was angry, especially when he thought of the pain it must’ve caused her to sell the animal in the first place. “You deserve it.”

  Pearl nudged Emmaline with a soft whinny, and she responded by petting her neck. “In a moment, Pearl.”

  “You like naming animals after precious jewels,” he said, thinking of her kitten, Jade. The cat occasionally visited him in his office, but she was absolutely Emmaline’s pet.

  “They are precious. To me.” She touched his sleeve, startling him. “I…I can’t thank you enough. I was happy to get a horse, but to have Pearl back is beyond what I could have imagined.”

  “You said you were happy.” He marveled at how far she’d come. “I’m glad.”

  Her lips curved into an elusive smile, and his heart skipped. This one was for him, and he’d bask in it for some time to come. “Me too.” She looked back to her horse.

  “Are you going to ride?” he asked.

  “Most definitely.” She looked around. “Is there a block?”

  “I can help you up.”

  She hesitated but ultimately nodded.

  He moved behind her and clasped her waist. She was so close. He inhaled her scent, lavender and something else that was specific to her. He wanted to pull her back against him, to feel the length of her along his body. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not now and likely not ever.

  Likely?

  Where was he getting his hope? Certainly not from her. Yes, she’d thawed a bit, but she’d given him no encouragement that the objective of their marriage had changed. She still wasn’t eating meals with him, nor was she speaking to him unless it was necessary.

  But maybe today was a turning point. Maybe she’d let him make her smile more often. He could think of a thousand ways he’d like to try.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She put her foot in the stirrup, and he lifted her. She swung her leg up and mounted with ease.

  “I can already see you are quite accomplished.” He wanted to ride with her, but wouldn’t unless she invited him. “One of the grooms will accompany you to the park.”

  She took up the reins. “Thank you.” She looked down at him, her gaze somewhat pensive. “I’m trying to understand why you did this.”

  He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? You needed a horse, and when I learned you’d had one, I simply found her.”

  “You’re saying it was easier than just going to Tattersall’s and buying a horse?”

  Ease had nothing to do with it. If it had, he would’ve just gone to Tattersall’s. “Does it really matter? You have your horse back.”

  “I just…I want to be clear. Our arrangement hasn’t changed. And I don’t expect you to buy me gifts. You don’t owe me extravagance.”

  He scowled at her, wishing she’d just accept the horse and be done with it. “This isn’t extravagance. She’s your horse. Returned to you.” He sounded annoyed. Which he was, but not because she wasn’t accepting the horse—she was. He was annoyed because she wanted to reiterate the fact that their marriage hadn’t changed. He knew that, had just told himself that, in fact, but hearing it grated his temper.

  He was being foolish. He took a deep breath and took a step back. “Enjoy your ride.”

  She guided Pearl from the mews, and the groom followed.

  He walked back to the town house, frustrated with himself for having unrealistic expectations. He hadn’t procured her horse with the intention of wooing her. He’d simply wanted to do something nice for her. Something that would make her happy.

  And he’d accomplished that, so what was his problem?

  He hoped for more, he realized. He wanted more. This marriage of convenience wasn’t very convenient for him.

  Why was he attracted to her? It wasn’t as if he’d come to know her very well. However, what he had seen had tugged at his heart. She seemed lonely, as if she’d never found her place. Maybe she had for a while, with Townsend, but then Lionel had taken that away from her. So while he wanted to ease her plight, he didn’t really deserve to.

  Damn, he was a broken mess.

  * * *

  Emmaline walked downstairs, nervous to be having breakfast with her husband for the first time since they’d married. As she reached the bottom, she stopped abruptly. Axbridge was waiting for her.

  Garbed in a dark blue coat, buff breeches, and immaculately polished Hessians, he looked as if he’d just come from his morning ride, which he surely had. He was also mouth-wat
eringly handsome. She’d begun to realize that while avoiding him had been borne of her anger toward him, of late, it was more to do with her growing attraction to him.

  “Good morning,” he said. “You look lovely.” His gaze dipped over her pale blue gown. “I was surprised—but pleased—that you wanted to dine together. Shall we?” He offered his arm.

  She placed her hand on his sleeve. Lightly. The less she touched him, the better.

  They walked into the dining room, and he seated her on his right. “I asked that we be placed close together. I hope that’s all right.”

  No, she’d prefer to be at the opposite end, but she supposed that would be pointless. She’d arranged to dine with him so that she could speak with him about a matter of importance—a matter he’d required her to speak with him about.

  He settled her in the chair and then sat, prompting the footman to begin serving breakfast from the sideboard.

  “I hope you won’t mind that I typically prefer a simpler breakfast. Indeed, this is more formal than what I usually take in the sitting room upstairs before I go riding.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Simple likely meant less time spent together.

  The footman served them cold ham and rolls, tending to Emmaline first.

  She looked over at Axbridge. His blond hair glinted in the morning light filtering through the window behind her. “I want to thank you again for Pearl,” she said. “It’s so wonderful to have her back.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. Perhaps one day I’ll see you ride.”

  She knew he rode every morning, and yesterday when he’d presented her with Pearl, she’d sensed he’d been waiting for an invitation to join her. She’d almost done it. In a moment of weakness provoked by his extreme kindness.

  The footman served her a cup of chocolate and Axbridge coffee.

  “I see you’re wearing my ring once more.” Axbridge nodded toward her left hand.

  It had seemed the right thing to do since he’d gone to such lengths to regain Pearl for her. She adjusted the ring with her thumb and focused on the matter at hand. “I need to ask you for another sum of money to repay one of Geoffrey’s debts. It wasn’t in the accounting his secretary provided.”