The Daring Duke

by Jess Michaels

  “What did I say?” she asked, faking innocence.

  He arched a brow, his expression calling her on her faulty memory even if he didn’t say a word about it. “When I asked if I could help, you said I could court you to make others notice you.”

  She gripped her fists and broke their intense stare. “Oh, please don’t hold that silly thing over my head. I was just talking, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t meant it and there’s no need to—”

  “It’s a good idea,” he interrupted. “The more I thought about it, the better it became. For both of us. If we courted, it would take every eye of every grasping mama off of me. And it would put every eye of every gentleman on you, just as you said.”

  She blinked. “So you want to…court me?”

  He swallowed. “No. Well, not really. To pretend. To pay enough attention to you to garner interest without making irreversible promises. A tightrope, yes, but one we can walk if we are clear and careful.”

  Emma was shocked at the spreading pain in her chest that hit her as he explained himself. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be courted by his man, kiss or no kiss. He was out of her league. By far.

  “So you want to lie,” she said.

  He nodded. “A blunt way to put it, but yes.”

  “And how would that work, exactly?”

  “Just like a normal courtship, except we know it isn’t. We would dance together, we would flirt. I will say lovely things about you when anyone asks, you’ll blush prettily when I’m mentioned.” He grinned. “Yes, just like you’re doing right now.”

  She lifted her hands to her hot cheeks. “Oh, Abernathe—”

  “If we’re plotting together, it really must be James,” he said with an arched brow.

  “But I’m not plotting, you are,” she said. “I was only teasing when I said that to you last week.”

  “Were you?” he asked, suddenly serious again. “Be honest with yourself, were you teasing? I know a little about you, Emma.”

  Fear gripped her heart just as sadness had a moment before. “What do you know about me?”

  He sighed, as if reluctant to say what he was about to say. “I know you’ve been out in Society for four years. I know you stand on the wall at parties, hating every moment. I know your mother is pressing at your back, demanding you save her.”

  “Save her?” Emma repeated, hating how her bottom lip trembled. Hating that he was right and could see everything that tormented her.

  “Save her because the money will run out, especially at the rate she wants to spend it. And she puts all her hopes in you. It’s a heavy burden, Emma, I can see it.” His voice dropped and he took a small step toward her. “I know it. I’m offering to help you carry it. To give you a fresh chance you haven’t had since you first came out.”

  She shook her head. “And you would do all this just to keep a few aggressive mamas away from you?”

  He held her gaze for what felt like a very long time. She felt him reading her, analyzing what to do next. It seemed he’d made a decision when he said, “It’s more than that. I suppose if I am to make demands, to ask you to be my partner in this, I must be honest with you. Emma, I don’t want to get married.”

  “Ever?” she asked.

  Slowly, he nodded his head, his gaze never leaving hers. “Ever.”

  She blinked. She’d heard those rumors, of course, that James was avoiding his duty. Meg had implied it, he’d said a few things about it, gossip screamed about it…but she’d assumed it was about putting the inevitable off for a year or two.

  This was something else.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He froze, and discomfort crossed his handsome face. He stared off into the sky, lost to her as he pondered whatever troubles were on his mind. And there were troubles. She could see them moving across his face. Worse, she wanted to step forward and comfort him, even if it wasn’t her place.

  “It’s complicated,” he said at last, his face turning into shadow so she could no longer read it. “Suffice to say, I have my reasons. So will you help me? And be helped yourself in the process?”

  She didn’t answer right away. In that charged moment, she wanted to know so much more. To know why that sadness was in his eyes again. To know why he avoided his duty when it seemed he was a man of honor in his heart.

  But he didn’t want to show her those things and she had no right to ask for them.

  “This is insanity,” she said at last, for she had no other way to describe it.

  To her surprise, he smiled. “You are here, Emma. We are in this situation already, aren’t we? Why not help each other?”

  She drew in a long breath. The world was currently spinning wildly out of control and she needed a moment before she agreed to anything so wild as his plan.

  “Let me think about it,” she said.

  His eyes went wide, and for a moment it was like no woman had ever refused a request of his before. Perhaps they hadn’t. He was a man who was hard to refuse.

  Finally he nodded. “Very well, if that is what you require. Think all you’d like.”

  “I need to go up to the house. I need to…get ready, to just…to get ready.”

  “I can escort you,” he suggested.

  She looked at him, her lips still throbbing from where he’d kissed her, her knees shaking and shook her head. “No, I think you’d best stay here. I—oh, I’m just going to go.”

  She said nothing more and ignored him calling her name as she rushed from the garden and back up to the house. But being away from him didn’t help as much as she’d hoped. Even as she fled his side, she still felt his gaze on her. His hands on her. His mouth on her.

  And she still heard the words of his plan ringing in her ears as she went to get ready for what promised to be a very long night ahead.

  Chapter Eight

  James stared out across the ballroom floor and immediately caught sight of Emma. She was standing at the wall, just as she did at almost every ball or party she attended, but tonight she was not alone. Tonight a few gentlemen stood at her side, talking to her and Meg.

  And while he should have been pleased with that—after all, it proved his point that his attention brought eyes and interest to her—instead it made his blood boil. Two of the men were idiots, couldn’t rise to her intellect in any way. The other, Sir Archibald, was twenty years her senior, with two dead wives in his wake and eight truly rotten children.

  “Why do you keep shifting around?” Simon asked, elbowing his side.

  James blinked and broke his gaze away to refocus on Simon, Graham and another of their club, Robert, the Duke of Roseford. They were all staring at him, expectant and rather smug, if he read their expressions correctly.

  “It’s nothing,” he grunted, turning his attention away from them.

  Graham laughed. “Or is it Miss Emma Liston, who we all saw you talking with quite closely at supper?”

  “Yes, and then the idiot goes for a walk alone with her in the garden,” Roseford said, batting his eyelashes. “Careful, you’ll have the lass in love with you and then what a pickle you’ll be in.”

  James pressed his lips together at the teasing and ignored the flash of pleasure at the idea of Emma wanting him. “I’m not worried about that. I’m just shocked that she hasn’t responded to my offer.”

  Graham lunged forward a step. “Your offer? Christ, James, don’t tell me you went forward with that ridiculous idea you were telling me about in London.”

  “What idea?” Simon asked, looking between the two of them. “What is he talking about?”

  James shifted in discomfort. He wanted his friends’ advice, but not their taunting when the truth came out. “I thought Northfield would have told you all about it already,” he said. “He had such a chuckle about it at my expense.”

  “Well, I thought you were in jest,” Graham explained. “So I didn’t say anything to anyone.”

  “What are they talking
about?” Roseford asked, looking at Simon.

  “Something I’m not privy to. Do either of you care to explain?”

  Graham turned to them. “Before we left London, James came to me with this ridiculous notion that he would pretend to court Emma Liston to help her garner attention in the marriage mart—and to keep attention off himself.” He glared at James. “Did you really approach her with this ridiculous plan?”

  James folded his arms. “It isn’t that ridiculous. I paid her the barest of attention tonight and look, she has men flocking to her side.” He scowled as Emma smiled at something Sir Archibald was saying. “Though I do not approve the quality.”

  Roseford leaned forward, his dark eyes flashing with true emotion. “Have you lost your bloody mind? This is exactly how men get trapped into marriage with women.”

  Simon’s expression was less harsh than Robert’s, as was his tone. “So you actually talked to her about this?”

  “In the garden before the ball,” James admitted, his treacherous mind dragging him back to their kiss before he pushed the thought away. “She said she had to think about it. What is there to think about? I’m offering her something mutually beneficial. Why would she resist?”

  Graham tilted his head back and began to laugh. “Great God, this is about her refusing you. You’ve never had a woman have the gall to say no to you.”

  James opened his mouth to refute that charge, but found he couldn’t. He had always had ladies falling at his feet. They always danced with him, cooed over him, and if they were of a certain type, fell into bed with him.

  Emma was different. In more ways than one. She’d kissed him back in the garden, yes. But there’d been no simpering and playing and flirting afterward. She’d hardly even acknowledged it happened. And here he was, still tasting her on his lips and feeling her in his arms.

  It was madness.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but haven’t you declared multiple times before that marrying is not something you’re interested in at all?” Roseford pressed.

  James shifted. “Yes. And this ruse could very well help me further that goal. If I’m unavailable in the eyes of the mamas, they’ll refocus their attention on others. And when Emma finds someone else, I will have a perfect excuse as to why I am not interested this Season or next or even the next after that.”

  Graham stared at him for far too long and the concern on his friend’s face was clear. “If you don’t want to marry, you could simply not marry. This convoluted plan isn’t the best way to ensure it.”

  Simon was nodding, his own expression tight with worry. “And if you are truly concerned about Miss Liston, there are also easier ways to help her. There are a few in our group alone who are open to the idea of brides.”

  “You think I should arrange she meet with someone in our group?” James asked, his body going cold at the thought.

  Roseford nodded. “Idlewood comes to mind. Christopher hasn’t inherited his dukedom yet, but he’s financially stable as Earl, so her position might not be of difficulty to him.”

  A great wave of irritation swept through James as he looked at Emma and pictured her with their handsome friend. With any of his eligible friends.

  “No,” he said. “This is best.”

  Roseford let out a chuckle and said, “Well, if you insist. Now I see my mother signaling, so I shall be off.”

  Graham let out a long sigh. “I’ll go with you. I should dance with Margaret.”

  James felt Simon stiffen at his side and shot his friend a look, but his face was unmoved. They said their goodbyes to their friends and were left alone. James continued to look out over the crowd at Emma.

  As if she felt his gaze on her, she turned. Her face lost some of its color, then she whispered something to her companions, took a deep breath and began to move toward him. His heart stuttered as he watched her move through the sea of people.

  Simon turned to him. “Looks like your answer is coming after all, James.” He looked at Emma, then his attention moved off into the crowd. He shook his head slowly. “I’m not like Graham and Roseford. I don’t know if what you’re planning is right or wrong or just plain crazy. But I do know from bitter experience that if one doesn’t take his opportunities, regret is a poor bedfellow. So do whatever you feel is right.”

  James glanced at him, troubled by Simon’s long frown. But his friend didn’t allow him to press on the issue. He merely patted James’s forearm and then slipped away just before Emma reached him. Then all other thought emptied from his mind, leaving only her.

  Emma could hardly breathe as she finished what felt like a very long walk from across the room. James was staring at her the entire way, which didn’t help, for it was a very intense expression on his handsome, angular face. One that put her to mind of the garden and his unexpected and highly pleasurable kiss.

  She stopped before him, shoving her shaking hands behind her back. “Your—Your Grace,” she said softly.

  He tilted his head, examining her closely before he said, “Would you like to dance, Emma?”

  She jolted at the suggestion. Somehow she hadn’t been expecting it. But there was no avoiding it, so she nodded. He held out a hand and she took it, electricity racing up her arm that she tried hard to ignore. She felt every eye in the ballroom turn toward her as he guided her to the dancefloor. As the music began, she held back a groan.

  A waltz. Of course it would be a waltz. Anything to force her to remain in his arms like she belonged there, when she most certainly did not.

  He placed a hand on her hip and spun her into the first steps. She found herself staring up into his face, perfectly guided by him. He was everything a man should be when he danced. He was lithe and graceful, but he led with a firm hand, turning her exactly where he wanted her to go.

  He smiled down at her. “It would probably help if you looked slightly less terrified, Emma. People will think I’m holding you hostage.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at his light tone. It drained some of the tension from her body and made her steps easier. She drew in a long breath. “If I look nervous, it is because I’ve been thinking about what you suggested in the garden.”

  His fingers tightened against her back, drawing her just the tiniest fraction closer. “Have you? And what did you determine your answer to my plan to be?”

  “It is madness to participate in such a deception,” she said, watching a flash of emotion cross his face before he went back to calm and unreadable. “But…”

  “But?” he pressed.

  “I have almost nothing to lose with the effort,” she admitted. “So if your offer still stands, I will agree to the terms.”

  He smiled, an expression that lit up his face and made her stumble in her steps. Great Lord, but he was beautiful. Truly beautiful, like some kind of wicked angel.

  He steadied her as he said, “My dear, we have not yet come to terms.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “Haven’t we? I’m agreeing to your ruse.”

  He spun her deftly as he said, “But there are details. And details are incredibly important, especially in an arrangement like this. But here on the dancefloor with the world watching is not the place to hash those out.”

  She glanced around and drew in a sharp breath. Indeed, the world did seem to be watching. Women were glaring at her over their fans, gentlemen were talking and sizing her up. She shifted with discomfort, for she had never been the center of such attention before.

  “Where then?” she asked, her voice catching.

  He pondered the question a moment. “My sister says she has provided you with a room to yourself?”

  Her lips parted. “You cannot mean to come to my room, Your Grace.”

  There was a dark flare of heat in his eyes, but then he shook his head. “No. I think that would not be a wise idea, considering.”

  “Considering what?” she asked on the barest of breaths.

  He shrugged, but once again
his fingers slid along her spine with an intimacy that made her shiver. “Just considering. I only mentioned it because if you are alone, it will make it easier for you to sneak out. Will you join me in the library in a few hours?”

  She considered the question a moment. Sneaking out of her chamber in the middle of the night to rendezvous with a scandalous, highly sought after and incredibly attractive man did not seem like the most proper thing to do. But then again, she had been behaving properly her entire life and what had it gotten her?

  Impropriety was beginning to look like it had its perks.

  She nodded. “I will.”

  He smiled at her again as the music ended. “I look forward to it, Miss Liston,” he said with a formal bow.

  She executed her own curtsey. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  He took her hand and led her from the dancefloor. But before he released her, he bent and pressed a kiss to her gloved hand. The warmth of his breath pierced the thin fabric, swirling around her skin until her thighs clenched together.

  He nodded and let her go, trailing off into the crowd as if he had no care in the world. And perhaps he didn’t. After all, this little ruse of his likely meant nothing to him, just as their kiss earlier meant nothing to him.

  And she had to make sure she was just as cool about it or else she would put herself in a world of trouble.

  Emma came down the long staircase hours later, peering around through the now-shadowy halls for fear of being caught. She had hatched an elaborate explanation while she waited for the proper time to come downstairs. One that involved an inability to sleep, a love of libraries and a need for a boring book.

  She could only hope she’d never be asked to recite it, for she wasn’t very good at lying.

  She huffed out a breath as she muttered, “Exactly why you’re entering into a ruse of a courtship with a…a…”

  She pushed open the library door and caught her breath. James was already there, standing by the fire. He had shed his jacket and his cravat, and his shirt was open two buttons, revealing a smooth line of chest that made her blush. As she stumbled into the room, he looked up at her, heat swirling in his dark eyes as he looked her up and down.