A Most Unlikely Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  As it turned out, he didn’t have to. She was beside him in an instant, her thigh brushing his as she reached for his hand. Raphe forced back a groan in response to the sudden contact. It assaulted his senses, his entire body clamoring for more.

  “Explain yourself,” she demanded. She shook her head as though trying to focus. “You cannot say such a thing without doing so.”

  He took a deep breath, determined to dampen the hot desire that her touch had evoked. God, she drove him to distraction with her delicate fingers clasping his, her face so close that if he but turned to look at her, their lips would likely touch. A tremor shook him at the thought of such pleasure—the instant reminder of how it had been between them before when they’d given in to abandon. “I don’t know what I feel for you,” he said, telling her the truth. “I know that I care for you, and I know that I want—I want . . .” Christ, he could not say it. Not to a woman of her breeding—of her perfection. She’d think him a beast if she ever discovered the visions he’d had of her as he lay in bed at night, his mind tormented with the possibility of her there with him, of what it would be like for them to touch each other in the most intimate ways possible.

  Shifting, he moved to pull away, determined to add some measure of distance, lest he act out his fantasies within the confines of this very carriage. She was a lady, after all. She did not deserve to be treated so coarsely.

  “So do I,” she whispered.

  Blinking, he tried to recall the last thing he’d said to her, and then blinked again the moment he did. “What are you talking about?” His voice was gruff with restraint.

  Raising his hand, she pressed it to her chest, allowing him to feel her heart. It was beating a frantic tattoo. “I want it all,” she whispered. “But only with you.” Her eyes shimmered, sparkling like stars in the night sky. “I—I . . .”

  He wanted to press his mouth to hers, to silence whatever thought that was stopping her from acting on the words she’d just spoken. But the caution with which she spoke made him hesitant. Whatever it was, it seemed to be very important. “You?”

  “I love you, Raphe.” She blurted the words with complete lack of finesse, as though they’d been building up inside her just waiting to burst free. “My life changed the moment I met you. You taught me how to live again—you made me rediscover my true self—and you showed me that I can be so much more than I ever expected to be as long as I have the courage to try. I love how you make me feel and I love that you find me interesting rather than strange. I love your smile and the way in which you make me smile. You’re an impressive man; considerate, kind, honorable and . . . You are everything to me, Raphe. When we’re apart, I can think of nothing but you—of being with you again—and I . . . I’m sorry if I ever doubted our chance of being together. I was stupid, and afraid, but I refuse to be so anymore. I refuse to marry a man I don’t love when I can marry the one that I do. As long as you’ll have me, that is.”

  She barely managed to speak the last words before he was kissing her, pulling her closer, his arms tight about her waist and shoulders, too impatient to wait a moment longer to embrace her softness and taste her sweetness.

  She reciprocated with an eagerness that wrought a groan from his throat, her desperation for closeness equal to his. Fingers splayed across his back, she matched his movements, following his lead as he deepened the kiss, exploring and sharing an unspoken wave of emotion. He hadn’t reciprocated her declaration, and would not do so until he was certain he felt the same way. She deserved the honesty—not the deception that came from hastily casting words about. And while he knew that he liked her and cared for her, he had to know that this burning need to be with her was more than just a passing fancy or a haunting obsession.

  He’d learned that from his parents. “I thought I loved her,” his father had told Raphe shortly before taking his own life. “I realize now that the passion I felt was anything but. The constant craving she instilled within me wasn’t love. It was a sickness—a compulsive need to possess her.” He’d looked so tired and worn out as he’d spoken, his only confidant, an eight-year-old boy who should never have witnessed such emotional outpouring from his father. “I should have known that I’d never make her happy. She didn’t love me either, you see.”

  It was a tragedy that Raphe had sworn to avoid, yet here he was, kissing Gabriella as though his life depended on it—reveling in her love for him. He pulled back, adoring the hazy look in her eyes, her puffy lips and her rosy cheeks. Swiping away a stray strand of hair from her cheek with his fingers, he quietly asked, “How do you know?”

  She stared up at him, cheeks darkening with the burn of his question. “I just do.”

  “You just do?” It was the most unsatisfactory answer he’d ever received. It didn’t help him at all.

  She nodded with conviction and he found himself envying her certainty. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before,” she whispered shyly.

  Neither had he, but that didn’t mean that he loved her. Did it? He watched as she lowered her lashes, and he realized then that too much time had passed between them—time in which she’d probably hoped for him to match her courage. So he did the only thing he could think to do and kissed her again, long and deep and with an openness that would hopefully ease her mind a little.

  When the carriage rolled into the courtyard between their two houses, he took her hands between his own and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to ask Richardson to investigate your sister’s marriage immediately. I’ll send you a note as soon as I know if there’s a chance for an annulment.”

  She nodded demurely. “Thank you.” When he moved to alight, she caught him by the elbow, holding him back. “Just so you know, I plan to end my engagement with Fielding.”

  Her directness shook him for a second, due to the implication. She’d said she loved him, and now she planned to prove it by casting aside the man her parents had chosen for her to marry—the safe choice that would ensure a respectable place of admiration amid the ton.

  “If you need help, I’d be happy to oblige.”

  “Thank you, but I would prefer to do this on my own.”

  “You want to do what?” Richardson asked with unfeigned dismay.

  Taking a moment to convey the details surrounding Lady Victoria’s marriage and her current situation, Raphe faced his friend and secretary. “Do you think it’s possible?” he asked.

  Richardson ran both hands through his hair as though the mere suggestion was too disturbing to contemplate. “What about Warwick?”

  “What about him?”

  Richardson gave him a look of exasperation. “Does he know?”

  “Of course not.” The comment did little to appease Richardson, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. “His daughter determined her own future when she got herself married to a man that Warwick had not approved of.”

  “It looks as though his other daughter might be heading down that same path,” Richardson grumbled.

  “I thought you were in favor of a match between Lady Gabriella and I,” Raphe said, crossing his arms.

  “Of course I am.” Richardson blew out a breath. “I just wish there wasn’t so much scandal attached.” He eyed Raphe for a second before saying, “She really means to end things with Fielding?”

  “That’s what she told me.”

  “One has to admire her courage. Warwick is bound to be furious once he finds out.” He shook his head. “As for her sister, if she married a man under false pretenses—a man who claimed to be someone he wasn’t—an annulment ought to be possible. I’ll call a meeting with your solicitor, Mr. Fischer, who will probably turn to the chief magistrate. It may take time to settle.”

  Raphe nodded. “Please keep me apprised of the progress.”

  “Of course.” Richardson paused on his way out the door. “Any news about the fight yet?”

  “No. But I doubt it’ll be long before there is. A day or two at most.”

  “Well,”
Richardson said, his eyes softening as he spoke. “When scandal arrives it seems to do so in droves.”

  An unfortunate truth that Raphe could not deny.

  Chapter 27

  Pacing restlessly back and forth in the parlor, Raphe listened with increased frustration to his sisters’ complaints about the lack of activity in their lives. It was only a day since he’d seen Gabriella last, but he’d been in an agitated state ever since and knew that he wouldn’t relax until he found out if she’d been successful or not in her attempt to break her engagement with Fielding.

  “Is there no invitation that you can accept?” Amelia asked. “We’re out now. Surely we ought to be seen!”

  “Not until you’ve perfected the quadrille and the cotillion,” he told her gruffly.

  “What about the waltz?” Juliette asked. “Mr. Humphreys says—”

  Raphe’s eyebrows shot up. “You will not be waltzing.”

  Amelia glared at him. “Do you want us to find husbands or not?”

  “Of course I do. And you will,” he assured her, “but not by waltzing.”

  Both sisters huffed out a breath and rolled their eyes, their ladylike manners momentarily forgotten. “You’re too overbearing sometimes,” Juliette complained.

  “He’s overbearing all of the time,” Amelia grumbled.

  Raphe stopped pacing and faced them. “Must I remind you that Juliette has recently been quite ill? How do you think she contracted the measles in the first place? By going out in public, that’s how.”

  “Then lock us in our rooms and throw away the key,” Amelia told him petulantly.

  “You needn’t be so dramatic,” he told her. “But I’m your older brother. I worry about you and feel responsible for you. What if—” The reminder of loss, of holding his sister’s lifeless body in his arms, of watching her being placed on a cart and carried off to the cemetery, would always haunt him.

  “You have to let us grow up eventually, Raphe,” Amelia quietly whispered. “You have to let us go so we can live our own lives.”

  “I’m terrified of losing you.” His voice broke and he turned away, facing the window.

  “We know,” Juliette said. “We feel that fear every moment of the day. You’re so protective of us, so frightened of letting us out of your sight. And yet, you did all of this for us.” She gestured to the space around them. “So that we can have the future you wish for us to have.”

  “An impossibility, unless you set us free,” Amelia said. She waited a second and then suggested, “What if we do something here? At the house?”

  Considering such a possibility—the chance for his sisters to socialize in a controlled environment—Raphe slowly nodded. “We can host a ball.” He began warming to the idea. “We’ll invite everyone—let them see that we’re deserving of their high regard.” Coventry would be able to help with that. Raphe was certain of it.

  “I think that sounds splendid,” Amelia told him. “Thank you.”

  The door to the parlor opened at that moment, admitting Gabriella, who brushed past Pierson before he was able to announce her. “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” the butler blustered.

  “It’s quite all right,” Raphe told him, pleased by the sight of the woman who’d captured so much of his attention lately. Addressing her, he said, “I’m so glad you’re here so I can share the good news.” He waited for the door to close behind her before saying, “My solicitors are meeting with the chief magistrate today. I expect to hear from them by this time tomorrow, but in the meantime, you ought to know that I’ve invited your sister to stay with me until everything has been resolved.”

  Gabriella’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Vicky and Lucy are here?”

  He nodded. “They’ve been given one of the spare bedchambers.”

  “When?” She looked dumbfounded. “I mean—”

  “I couldn’t knowingly leave them in that place, so I returned for them yesterday evening.”

  Tears pooled against her lashes. “Thank you.” Her voice was small, and he realized then how distressed she looked. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “He won’t let me do it,” she said, almost gasping for breath. “I’ve met with Fielding and he refuses to break our engagement.” Her eyes darted about the room as though hoping to find a hidden solution to her troubles in one of the corners of the parlor. “He’s always prided himself on winning, and now—he’s quite determined for the two of us to marry.”

  Raphe stiffened, his mind already plotting and planning. He addressed his sisters, whose welcoming smiles had faded in response to Gabriella’s unsettled tone. “I believe your studies await you in the library,” he told them pointedly.

  They didn’t linger, both offering Gabriella a brief acknowledgement as they hastily took their leave. The door clicked shut behind them. “Let me help,” Raphe said while repressing the vehement anger he felt toward Fielding.

  “How?” The pain with which she spoke made his heart shudder. He hated that she felt so helpless. Hated Fielding and her parents and all of Society for being the cause of it.

  Considering his options, he met her gaze. “I think he and I need to talk.”

  “What?”

  “Fielding’s a greedy bastard who needs to be put in his place.”

  Gabriella’s eyes went wide. “How? I mean, what exactly do you—”

  “I’m the Duke of Huntley, Gabriella, and I will be damned if I’m going to let him get the better of me when I have the power to crush him like the gnat he is.”

  “Oh!” She bit her lip, eyes sliding over him until he felt the blazing heat of her gaze as though it were the sun itself. It burned him to the core.

  “Gabriella?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Come here.” His tone was authoritative—ducal—commanding.

  She slid into his arms a second later, melting against his hardness for a smoldering kiss that completely undid him with its honesty. It stripped him of every shield he held until he was left with no choice but to whisper the truth that had pounded through his veins since she’d bared herself to him yesterday. “I love you too, Gabriella. With all my heart. I love you.”

  She went completely still, leaning back so she could get a proper look at him. Her eyes trembling with emotion, her lips parting until a question drifted toward him. “Really?”

  Lifting his hand, he stroked it over her hair, brushing aside a stray lock before continuing down across her jaw. With a nod, he told her simply, “You’ve conquered my heart.” He dipped his head and kissed her gently—a soft pressing of lips as he whispered against her, “I am yours.”

  His arms went around her, holding her close in a silent exchange of emotion. For a brief moment their troubles vanished and it was just the two of them—him holding her, the woman he loved.

  But it couldn’t last forever. Not if they were to have what they wanted. So he eased away from her and said, “You should spend the afternoon with your sister. I’ll take care of Fielding.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t fight me on this, Gabriella.”

  She hesitated a moment and then nodded. “Just promise me that you won’t hurt him.”

  Raphe felt his jaw tighten and his fists clench. “I’ll promise not to engage him in any way. Unless he asks me to.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She followed him out into the hallway “Pierson,” he said, locating the butler, “can you please tell Lady Victoria that her sister is here to see her?”

  The butler hurried away, leaving him alone with Gabriella once more.

  “Raphe?” She asked with urgency in her voice. “What are you planning to do?”

  “Nothing that the earl doesn’t want. I’m going to let him decide how to end this.”

  Reaching out, she placed her hand against his arm. “Please be careful.”

  Her concern for him was heartwarming. “Of course.” He heard Pierson’s footsteps approach. “Now go to your sister. I’m sure the two of y
ou have much to talk about.”

  Gabriella swept into her sister’s arms a few minutes later, embracing her as though she feared this might be a dream that was destined to fade. She had no words for what Raphe had done. He’d saved Victoria, and now he would try to save her as well. Love was perhaps too mild an emotion for the way in which she felt about him. Soul-deep adoration was more precise.

  “Is Lucy sleeping?” Gabriella asked Victoria as she pulled away from her.

  “Why don’t you come and see for yourself?” her sister asked. Moving aside, she gestured for her to step further into the bedchamber.

  Lucy was lying on a thick quilt that had been spread out on the floor, her chubby fingers grasping a rattle while her legs kicked at the air. “She looks so much like you,” Gabriella said as she crouched down next to Lucy. The girl chortled, one hand thrusting out toward Gabriella, who instinctively offered her finger. “And her grip is quite firm.” She laughed, unable to contain the fondness she already felt for this tiny little human.

  “She’s the most important part of my life now,” Victoria said, joining her on the floor. “I never knew it was possible to love another person so much. Which just goes to show how wrong and foolish I was regarding Connolly. What I felt for him doesn’t come close to this.” She lowered her head and placed a tender kiss against Lucy’s forehead.

  “What about Ben?” Gabriella asked. “How do you feel about him?”

  A wry smile captured Victoria’s lips. “I’ll tell you as soon as you tell me what is going on between you and Huntley.”

  Tugging her finger away from Lucy’s hand, Gabriella looked into her sister’s curious eyes and told her the truth. “I love him, Vicky. It’s that simple, really, even if the reality of it is far more complicated than I ever would have believed possible.”