She Tempts the Duke

by Lorraine Heath

  He also should have realized that she would greet lovemaking with an eagerness to explore all facets of it. Fitzwilliam had been a bloody fool to walk away from her. But Sebastian couldn’t regret that she was his duchess. Not after this morning. Hell, not after last night.

  All the things he’d worried over, she turned into insignificance. Theirs might not have been a love match, but it was based on a deep and abiding friendship. More than some had.

  “What did you do, all these years, while I was away?” he asked.

  She gave him an impish smile, released a small laugh which echoed between them and lit upon him as lightly as a butterfly. Only it didn’t stop there. It knocked at the edge of his soul, but he had learned that he needed to remain hardened to soft things so he forbade his soul from answering.

  “What do you find so humorous?” he asked.

  “Not humorous. Encouraging. It’s the first time you’ve asked me about the life I led while you were gone. I’ve had a thousand questions, wanted to know what happened during every moment of your time away from here. I wasn’t even certain that I warranted so much as an afterthought.”

  He furrowed his brow, clenched his jaw. Surely he’d asked after her welfare. Something. But nothing came to mind. Yet she’d married him anyway. Thank God for scandal. “I was occupied with thoughts of securing Pembrook and my titles.”

  She gazed up at the sky as though she was seeking rain. “Yes, I know.”

  “You say that as though you don’t approve.”

  She pursed her lips, adjusted the reins.

  “Mary?” he prodded.

  With a long sigh and obvious reluctance, she said, “It’s only that you seem not to allow much more in your life.”

  “Because nothing is more important. It has always served as my lodestar, given purpose to my life.”

  “Perhaps now that you’ve secured it you can expand your interests.”

  “I still have much work to do. I need to review ledgers, journals, and discover exactly what Uncle has done the past twelve years.”

  “Why can you not simply start with now and move forward?”

  He shook his head, not certain why he was so bothered that she found fault with his methods. She was his wife. Her place was in his bed, not in his study. “As the daughter of an earl, you should realize that history is all-important. We must understand the past in order to meet with success in the future. Besides, there is a small chance that I will find something that will prove correct my suspicions about his murdering my father, or allow me the opportunity to ruin his life further.”

  She was quiet for several moments, and he wondered if he should apologize for his terse tone. If he did, he’d begin a habit that would no doubt leave him apologizing most of the day. He longed for the easy camaraderie they’d possessed as children. Only they were no longer children.

  “I read,” she finally said.

  “Pardon?”

  “What I did while I was at the nunnery. I read the Bible. I scrubbed floors. I stitched a thousand articles of clothing.” Her laughter this time echoed sadness. “Or it seemed like a thousand anyway. I hate stitching, by the way. I have no intention of ever again threading a single needle.”

  “We have the means for you to hire servants to thread needles for you.”

  Finally, he had cajoled a smile from her.

  “I’d rather hire them to rub my feet. I’m very fond of having my feet rubbed.”

  “I shall keep that in mind. Although I much prefer having other things rubbed.”

  “Sebastian, don’t be naughty.”

  “I just thought you should know. You should also know that you were never an afterthought. I simply never thought of you as growing up.”

  “Just because I’ve grown up doesn’t mean I can’t still outride you.” She urged her horse into a gallop.

  He watched her go. A time had existed when he knew exactly how much of a lead to give her and how to pace his horse so that she would win. Always he had been able to deny her so little. Why did he feel that he was suddenly denying her far too much?

  He spurred his own horse on. They were adjusting to new roles—husband and wife. And years of changing between them. She was no longer the young girl whose braid he’d liked to tug on. He was no longer the boy who had expected to step into his father’s boots with barely a ripple in his life.

  He had weathered numerous storms to get here. His brothers had suffered as well. He couldn’t forget the price they’d all paid.

  Mary was wrong. He couldn’t begin with the present and move forward. He had to first conquer the past.

  He’d let her win. Mary was fairly sure of it as she arrived at the blackened abbey ruins only a few gallops ahead of Sebastian. Time had taken its toll on the abbey. Weeds had reclaimed much of it. Two of the walls were so worn that one could easily step over them. She suspected farmers or villagers had taken off with some of the bricks and stone.

  “I should have known you’d come here,” Sebastian said as he brought his horse up beside hers.

  “I would like to walk around for a bit.”

  After dismounting, he assisted her from her horse and tethered both beasts to a lowlying bush. He offered her his arm, and they strolled slowly around the remains of the medieval structure. They stepped over a low outer wall. Most of the ceiling and roof were gone. It had been a tall structure, as though it had once housed giants. “That first night at the ball, when you made your grand entrance back into Society, you mentioned that Rafe knew the dark side of London. When I was caring for you, it became quite obvious that he doesn’t live at Easton House. What does he do?”

  Walking away from her, he skirted the edges of what might have been the sanctuary and stopped at a window that looked out over the hills. All that remained was the frame. Above it was nothing except sky. He sighed deeply. “You mustn’t tell anyone.”

  “I’m not going to gossip about my family.”

  He glanced back at her, and she could tell he was surprised by her words. She was astonished that he was. “You’re my family now,” she said by way of explanation. “You, Rafe, Tristan.”

  “My apologies, Mary. Even if we were not married, I know you’d not gossip about us.” He removed his hat, turned it in his hands as though he needed to concentrate on something besides the words he’d speak. “He owns a den of vice.”

  She heard the displeasure in his voice. Not that she blamed him. “You mean like gambling.”

  “Among other things.”

  “Well, surely now that you’ve reclaimed your title, he’ll give it up.”

  “He says not.”

  “And you’re not happy about that.”

  “Of course I’m not happy about it. But as I left him twelve years ago, he has decided it is a bit late for me to care about what he does with his life now.”

  “Where did you leave him?”

  He crushed his hat, straightened it. “At a workhouse. I knew Uncle wouldn’t look for him there.”

  “From a workhouse to a den of vice? Rather odd going. How did that come about?”

  “I don’t know. Somehow he ended up on the London streets. Maybe he ran away. He survived. I don’t know the particulars. He won’t talk to me about it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He released a brittle laugh. “It’s not your fault. If not for you, we’d all be dead.”

  She crossed over to him, studied the strong lines of his face. She realized it was far more than the scars that had changed his features. It was remorse, regrets, burdens. She touched his jaw. “You did what you had to do. And what courage it took.”

  “There was nothing brave about it. I was terrified.”

  “Isn’t that what courage is? Doing something even when you’re frightened?”

  He studied her for a moment. “I was frightened the day you kissed me here. Do you remember it?”

  She welcomed the change of subject. She had hoped that coming here would remind him of better times. “My f
irst kiss. I’m not likely to forget.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Because I saw you kissing the silly milkmaid.”

  His eye widened and he laughed. It wasn’t a large laugh, but neither was it bitter or harsh. It filled her with hope that more laughter awaited them. He shook his head. “I never kissed a milkmaid.”

  “Yes, you did. I saw you.”

  “No, she was the egg girl.”

  She slapped his arm. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her close until she had to bend her head back to look up at him.

  “Were you jealous?” he asked.

  “No. I was angry. I was afraid you’d start playing with her. But then after we kissed, I thought, ‘Well, that wasn’t anything.’ I stopped worrying about it.”

  He cradled her cheek. “It wasn’t anything? I think it was the first time that I ever thought of you as a girl. Until then, you were just Mary, my friend. I was afraid my father would find out and I would have to marry you.”

  She laughed. “Oh, I was afraid of that, too. But I was afraid it would be my father who discovered what I’d done. And he would send me away. Only it wasn’t very much of a kiss, not really.”

  He grew serious. “No, it wasn’t very much of a kiss.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers, and this time the kiss they shared in the abbey was incredible, filled with warmth and passion.

  As they entered the great manor, all the warmth from outside failed to come in with them. Mary shivered. She would love this place because he loved it, but she couldn’t help but fear that they would never be truly happy here.

  The butler, Thomas, approached. He’d come with them from London. She suspected he had no preference for where he worked as long as he was serving the young duke.

  “Your Grace, one of the servants found a portrait of your father in the attic. I had it hung in the library.”

  “Excellent.” But something in Sebastian’s voice made Mary wonder if he rather wished they’d not had such luck.

  “Also, a missive arrived from Lord Tristan. I placed it on the desk.”

  “Very good. We should like an early dinner.”

  “I shall see to it.”

  The butler retreated, and she couldn’t help but feel that Sebastian was suddenly not nearly as relaxed as he’d been when they were out riding about. “I suppose I should prepare for dinner,” she said.

  “Perhaps you would take a moment to see if the portrait is to your liking.”

  “I would be delighted, but my father always told me that the library was the lord of the manor’s domain, so what matters is if it is to your liking.”

  “I value your opinion on the matter.”

  “As you well know, I’m not one for mincing words.”

  “No, you’re not.” His smile was small, but at least it was there, and she saw affection in his gaze. He held out his arm and she placed her hand on it.

  “You let me win today,” she said, and felt his arm tighten beneath her fingers. “Did you always?”

  “Not always. It’s easier to win when one isn’t riding sidesaddle.”

  “Ridden sidesaddle a lot have you?”

  He chuckled. “No. Never. But I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable.”

  As they reached the library, the footman opened the door and they strolled in. She loved the masculinity of this room: the dark walls, the sturdy wood and leather furniture. The books. So many books. She adored reading. It introduced her to characters, took her to places where she was never lonely.

  The portrait over the mantel was life-size and Sebastian’s father had been a large man, rather like him. Perhaps not quite as broad, but then he’d had a slightly easier life.

  “I’d forgotten how large he was,” she said.

  “I’m not certain I like it.” Moving away from her, he went to the table in the corner. “Brandy?”

  “No thank you. What is it about the portrait that you object to? It’s an amazing likeness.”

  Sebastian took a long swallow of brandy, before refilling his glass. “It serves to remind me that I am a disappointment to him.”

  “However did you draw that ludicrous conclusion?”

  He took another sip of brandy and leaned back against the bookcase, his gaze transfixed on the portrait. “I allowed us to be walked to the tower without a fight.”

  “And if your suspicions are correct, your father allowed himself to be whacked on the head. If he’s disappointed in anyone I suspect it’s in himself.”

  He barked out a laugh, a raspy sound that seemed as though it had been trapped somewhere rusting away and needed to be polished a bit. “You’ve always had such faith in me.”

  “Because I’ve always—” Loved you. But it had been a childish love, given so easily, without condition or expectation. Now she wasn’t quite certain what she felt for him. She knew something in her chest tightened when she gazed on him. She wanted to ease his sorrows. “—known you would do what was right.”

  He laughed again, an edge of bitterness ringing out this time. “Not always I fear.” He glanced back at the portrait. “Think I shall have it moved to another room. I don’t want him looking over my shoulder.”

  “I’ll find a place for it.”

  “Thank you. Let’s see what news Tristan has to impart.”

  Sebastian strode over to the desk, picked up the letter, broke the seal on the envelope, and withdrew the parchment. He unfolded the letter and read it. She couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not.

  “What does it say?” she asked moving nearer.

  He folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. “He’s purchased for us some horses as a wedding gift.”

  “There seemed to be a lot of words there for so little news. What else?”

  “Rafe is well. Tristan may return to the sea.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “I have no secrets.”

  “Then let me see what he wrote.”

  He studied her for a long moment, then handed her the letter. She scanned it quickly.

  Brother,

  I hope this letter finds you well and enjoying marital bliss. I found some excellent horseflesh in Hertfordshire that I purchased for you and your lovely bride as a wedding gift. It should arrive without much delay.

  All is well at the estate in Shropshire. Tomorrow I head down to Wiltshire to check on things there. I am having difficulty comprehending why the Crown couldn’t have given our ancestors all of their property in one place. While I’ve enjoyed not being in London, I miss the sea. Don’t take offense if I raise anchor shortly after seeing to the tasks you asked me to.

  The man watching and following Uncle reports that he rarely leaves the boarding house except to visit with his wife.

  Rafe was well when I left London. He promised to watch over the residence. I’m not sure what to make of him. He seems to lead some sort of secretive life. Can only hope that in time he will trust us with it.

  Give my best to Mary. Not a night goes by that I don’t wish you’d have let me marry her.

  Tristan

  She turned and stared at him. “Tristan wanted to marry me?” she asked.

  “If I wasn’t willing.”

  “Why didn’t you let him then?”

  “Because I was willing.”

  “I thought you married me because you had no alternative.”

  “We should probably begin preparing for dinner,” he said, completely avoiding addressing her inquiry.

  Wasn’t that interesting? He’d had a choice.

  She could not imagine that Tristan had offered to marry her. Would she have been happier with him? Would he have taken her with him when he set sail or left her behind? Did it really matter? It was a bit of a revelation, though, to realize that Sebastian could have pawned her off on his brother. But he hadn’t.

  Of course, he hadn’t, silly goose. If he was anything at all, he was a man who took responsibility for his actions. He kissed you in
the garden. He felt obligated to marry you.

  Only perhaps it was more.

  Chapter 26

  Following dinner, Mary sat curled in a chair in the library with her small rosewood secretary on her lap and jotted notes regarding tasks she needed to see to. The residence had a smaller library with a delicate desk in it that she assumed the former duchess had used, but she wanted to be near Sebastian. He worked at his desk, scouring through ledgers, making notations on a sheaf of paper beside him. So much needed to be done here that it was almost like starting over.

  “Sebastian?”

  “Hmmm?” He kept his attention on the books.

  “I thought I might go to the village tomorrow and see about hiring some temporary help to assist the servants in readying the remainder of the manor. So much requires dusting, polishing, and scrubbing that I thought it would hurry things along.”

  “Splendid notion,” he muttered distractedly.

  “Then I thought I might go to Willow Hall. I know Father was planning to leave London shortly after we did. I wanted to see about luring away some of his servants.”

  “Splendid notion.”

  “His gardener, for example, has been training his son in the trade. I thought we could offer the young man a position here as our gardener.”

  “Splendid notion.”

  “I think we would need more than one but it would be a start.”

  “Splendid notion.”

  “Then I thought I might very well scamper through the fields without my clothing.”

  “Splendid—”

  He paused before giving her a pointed look. She smiled mischievously. “I wasn’t certain you were listening.”

  He poured whiskey into a glass, then swirled it, watching her closely over the rim. “Feeling neglected?”

  “A little.”

  “If I spend most of the morning in bed, and a good part of the afternoon riding, I must catch up with business in the evenings.”

  She drew a heart on her paper, blackened it in. “I know. It’s just that many couples, after they marry, take a wedding trip.”