Duchess by Deception

by Marie Force

  “Are you aware that Lindsey attacked Catherine and would have raped her, had she not known how to defend herself ?” Derek asked the earl.

  His face lost all color. “I . . .”

  “Save it,” Derek said. “We have no need of your excuses.” To his footmen, he said, “Keep them out here. Don’t let either of them out of your sight.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Derek turned to go back inside, fueled by fury and disbelief. “Please wait in the drawing room,” he said to Catherine and Madeleine, pausing until they had followed his orders before continuing toward his study. The Brisbane earldom had been solid when the earl’s brother and nephew had died. How had the new earl gone through the entire fortune in less than a year?

  “Gambling,” Simon said grimly, reading Derek’s thoughts. “Word in London is the earl placed a series of bad bets. When Lindsey got a look at the daughters, he offered the earl a way out of his troubles.”

  “Disgusting,” Derek said, storming into his study.

  “Truly revolting. Thank goodness you happened upon Catherine digging on your land and saved them both in the process.”

  If only his wife could see it that way, Derek thought as he wrote out a note for the money his father-in-law needed to pay off Lindsey.

  “Derek, you don’t have to give him all of it.”

  “Yes, I do, or Lindsey will never leave any of us alone.”

  “It’s a ridiculous amount of money.”

  “Thankfully, I have a ridiculous amount of money.”

  “I’ll share the cost with you.”

  “No need, cousin.” Derek signed his name with a flourish and brought the note with him when he returned to the portico where four footmen had the two men separated. Over his shoulder, he said to Simon, “Consider it a wedding gift.”

  Derek handed the note to Lindsey. “The earl’s debt is paid in full. You will leave him and every member of his family in peace from this moment on, or you’ll deal with me. Do I make myself clear?”

  Lindsey took the note from Derek. “There’s nothing special about the earl’s daughters anyway,” Lindsey said snidely. “The brief taste I had of Lady Catherine—”

  Derek would never know how that sentence ended because he punched Lindsey square in the face and watched with great satisfaction as the other man toppled backward down the stone stairs, landing in a lump on the driveway. “Her Grace, the Duchess of Westwood, is my wife and under my protection,” Derek said, containing the urge to murder the disgusting viscount. Descending the stairs, he added a kick to the man’s genitals.

  The wretched man howled in pain as he grasped his wounded privates.

  “That was for Catherine. If you ever so much as dare to speak her name out loud again, I’ll gut you.” To his footmen, Derek said, “Please get this refuse off my property.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the senior footman said as he tended to Derek’s order.

  “That,” Simon said gleefully, “was exceedingly well done, Your Grace.”

  Maybe so, Derek thought, but he’d forgotten how painful it could be to smash one’s fist into another’s face. He hadn’t been in a fight since Eton.

  “Your Grace,” the earl said tentatively, “I can’t possibly thank you enough—”

  “Save your thanks and remove yourself from my sight and my property. It’s no wonder your daughter disdains the aristocracy after the example you have set. I would advise you to find some honor to go along with your new title.”

  Chastened, the earl spun on his heel and went down the stairs. A minute later, he and his horse left a cloud of dust as they departed.

  “Positively brilliant,” Simon said, clapping Derek on the back. “But I hate to be the one to tell you that you’re bleeding.”

  Derek looked down to discover his knuckles had been laid open and were indeed bleeding somewhat profusely.

  “Your Grace,” Mrs. Langingham said, “we must tend to your injury at once.” She steered him inside where he came face-to-face with his wife, who radiated tension as she twisted her hands in obvious distress.

  “The viscount is gone,” Derek said. “Neither you nor your sister will hear from him again.”

  “You are hurt,” Catherine said, her gaze shifting to his bloodied hand.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Take him into the drawing room,” Mrs. Langingham said. “I will fetch some ice and clean cloths.” She bustled off to see to the supplies.

  Catherine took him by the arm and steered him into the drawing room. It was the first time she had touched him willingly since finding out about his title.

  Madeleine stood by the window watching the goings-on outside. “Father is gone!”

  “I sent him away,” Derek said. “Any man who would gamble away his daughters isn’t welcome here.” He took a seat, his heart giving a happy lift when Catherine sat beside him, cradling his injured hand in her lap.

  “You hit Lord Lindsey,” she said.

  “I did, and I promised to gut him if he ever so much as speaks your name out loud again.”

  “Thank you,” she said with the first hint of the warmth that had once been his. “For that and for paying off my father’s outrageous debt.”

  “It was a small price to pay to get them both out of our lives.” And a small price to pay to have her look at him with admiration and new respect. “I assume you will want to see your mother and siblings. They will always be welcome here, but you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not interested in seeing your father again for a while.”

  “I share your thoughts where he is concerned even as I mourn the loss of the man I used to think I knew so well,” Catherine said.

  “He changed when he became the earl,” Madeleine said when she joined them, sitting with Simon on the smaller of the two sofas. “He’s not the loving father who raised us.”

  “No,” Catherine said. “He isn’t.”

  Mrs. Langingham returned with the ice, clean cloth and a poultice for the swelling.

  Derek took it as a positive sign when Catherine insisted on seeing to his wounds herself, gently cleaning his raw knuckles before applying the poultice in delicate dabs that caused him no additional discomfort. Then she wrapped his hand in a strip of cloth and placed the bag of ice on top of it. All the while, she held his hand in her lap, and he tried to contain the galloping pace of his heartbeat.

  Her care, concern and affection brought him right back to the bliss they’d shared before it all went so terribly wrong. Would the incident with Lindsey and her father provide a path back to her? If so, he would need to send both men an engraved thank-you letter. Or would this be a temporary détente in the tensions between them?

  Derek didn’t know, and the not knowing hurt far worse than the wounds on his hand ever would.

  * * *

  Madeleine had watched the goings-on between Simon’s cousin, the duke, Lord Lindsey and her father with a detached sense of the surreal. She’d gotten married today, so it was difficult to think past her wedding, her new husband and her looming wedding night, even with the arrival of the detested viscount and her father. He’d never even asked about either of his daughters or ensured their well-being before leaving with his tail tucked firmly between his legs.

  No matter, Madeleine told herself. She now had a husband to see to her well-being. If his yawning theatrics were any indication, her well-being would be seen to sooner rather than later.

  “Are we keeping you up, cousin?” the duke asked dryly.

  Madeleine had watched the way the duke had looked at her sister throughout the morning, noting the yearning and desire that came through in every word he said to her. He clearly cared for Catherine, which brought comfort to Madeleine.

  “I’ve had a series of late nights,” Simon said, stretching.

  The duke rolled his eyes.

  “What? I’m not used to keeping such hours.”

  “Perhaps you should retire early then,” the duke suggested.

  Early?
Madeleine knew a moment of pure panic. She thought she’d have until darkness fell before she’d be expected to perform her wifely duties. But if, as the duke suggested, they were to retire early—

  “A capital idea.” Simon stood and extended his hand to her. “Come, wife. Let us go rest.”

  “Rest,” the duke muttered under his breath. “Is that what we are calling it?”

  Catherine stood to hug her sister. “Everything will be fine,” Catherine whispered in Madeleine’s ear. “Trust your husband and his affection for you.”

  Madeleine nodded even as she feared she might faint.

  “Breathe,” Catherine whispered. “Just keep breathing.”

  Simon took hold of Madeleine’s hand. “Let us be off, my love. I find I can barely stay awake after the late nights we’ve had.”

  When he spoke to her in that intimate tone reserved only for her and looked at her with such love and joy, she began to relax ever so slightly, enough anyway to get air to her lungs. She let him lead her up the stairs, through winding hallways to the west side of the large manor.

  “My family has long occupied this side of the house while Derek is on the other.” Simon pointed out portraits of his ancestors as they traversed the corridor. “This is the grandfather that Derek and I share. He was the duke before Derek’s father.”

  “Derek looks like him,” Madeleine said.

  “Yes, he does. Derek’s temperament is very much like our grandfather’s as well. He was a kind and generous man.”

  “Are your parents in residence?” she asked. “I thought they might attend our wedding.”

  “My father is in London, where he spends most of his time, and my mother is unwell.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, but it has been so for quite some time now. In fact, I can’t remember a time when she wasn’t confined to her rooms cared for by nurses.”

  “Are you close with your father?”

  Simon laughed. “Not at all. He’s . . . How do I say it without being disrespectful to the man who fathered me?”

  “I would hope you would feel free to speak your mind with me. We are married now, aren’t we?”

  His beautiful eyes heated with desire as he put his arms around her and kissed both her cheeks. “We are indeed married.”

  Madeleine licked lips that had gone dry. “Then you should be able to tell me anything.” She watched his eyes follow the movement of her tongue and became truly aware of his desire for her.

  “My father is a ruthless, bitter, jealous scoundrel, who has gone out of his way to make my life, my mother’s life and Derek’s as miserable as he possibly could. We are all happier when he is in London.”

  “You have been so alone,” she said, gazing up at him with concern and empathy.

  “Not so alone. Derek and I had each other and a wonderful grandmother who doted on us until she died about ten years ago. Mrs. Langingham is like another mother to us and keeps us out of trouble.” Simon smiled and winked, looking every bit the rake of the first order. “Most of the time, anyway.”

  “You are not alone anymore.” A fierce feeling of loyalty and need filled Madeleine’s chest. She wanted to give him everything he’d lacked in his life before her, in the hope that he’d never be sorry for giving up his freedom to marry her.

  “I’m not alone, and thank goodness for that,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I promised your father I’d treat you with respect and honor until we were married.”

  “Do you plan to stop that now that we are married?” she asked, alarmed until he smiled.

  “I will never treat you with anything but the utmost in respect and honor. However, I find that I desperately wish to properly kiss my wife, among other things.”

  Madeleine swallowed hard. “Your wife would very much like to be properly kissed by her handsome husband.”

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and escorted her to his suite of rooms, ushering her in ahead of him. Fresh air greeted them from windows left open to the warm afternoon. Candles had been lit and placed around the room, casting a romantic glow over the rich, masculine furniture and the huge four-poster bed. “This is your room through here,” he said, leading her into a hallway that boasted the modern water closet and bathing room she’d used earlier and through the doorway to the more feminine room done in shades of lilac.

  “All of your things have been put away, but you should feel free to redecorate and make this space your own in any way you see fit.”

  “Oh,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. “All right.”

  “What is it?” he asked. “Why do you seem unhappy?”

  “I’d rather hoped . . .”

  “What, love? If I don’t know what you hope for, how can I make sure you get it?”

  She took a deep breath and summoned the courage to look at him and speak the words that were in her heart. “I’d rather hoped we would share a room.” She cleared her throat as she felt her face heat with embarrassment. “And a bed.”

  That rakish smile of his would be her undoing. “My silly, silly goose.” He tweaked her nose affectionately. “You will keep your clothing in here and tend to any business and correspondence here. You will sleep, every night of our lives, with my arms wrapped around you to keep you where you belong.”

  Madeleine was forced to lick her dry lips again. “And where do I belong, Mr. Eagan?”

  “Wherever I am.” He cupped her face in his hands and studied her for the longest time, so long she began to wonder if something were amiss. But then he lowered his face toward hers while keeping his eyes wide open and fixed on hers. The first brush of his lips against hers was so faint and so tentative, she wasn’t entirely sure it had happened. Then he came back for more, and there was no doubt in her mind that she was finally being kissed. Heat flooded her body and made her legs feel wobbly beneath her as she clung to him, trying to keep up with the relentless movements of his mouth over hers.

  “I knew you would taste sweeter than the sweetest honey,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. “That first day, after the standoff with your parents, I wanted to kiss you so badly.”

  “I wish you had.”

  “I couldn’t. I’d only just promised your father I wouldn’t.”

  “From what I’ve heard about you, such a promise wouldn’t have stopped you in the past.”

  “My past ceased to exist the moment I laid eyes on you, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, who is now my most beloved wife.”

  “Simon?”

  “Yes, love?”

  “Would you kiss me again?”

  “I would be delighted to kiss you again.” He touched his lips to hers, softly, gently.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Madeleine tried to get closer to him, seeking relief from the aching need that his kisses inspired in her. She wondered if this was it or was there more to kissing?

  “Open your mouth, my sweet.”

  She did as he asked, wondering what he intended to do. “Yes,” he said, breathing heavily now, “like that. Just like that.”

  His open mouth came down on hers and his tongue . . . Oh, dear God, his tongue rubbed against hers, making her see stars. Nothing in her life could’ve prepared her for the riot of emotions that zipped through her with every new stroke of his tongue.

  “I knew that day in the park that once I started to kiss you, I’d never want to stop.”

  “Please don’t stop.” He made her feel wanton and brazen, two things she’d never been before him.

  His low chuckle made her smile as he walked her backward the way they’d come until they had returned to his room. After closing the door, he turned her to face away from him and dropped hot kisses on her neck as he unbuttoned the pale yellow gown she’d worn for her wedding.

  Madeleine had expected to feel shy and modest about disrobing in front of him, but after his kisses, her clothing felt extra tight and restrictive.

  Simon made fast wor
k of removing her gown and corset, leaving her only in a linen shift, stockings and garters. “So very, very lovely,” he whispered as he kissed a heated path from her wrist to her elbow. Then he removed his coat and tore at the buttons and fasteners on his own clothing until he stood before her wearing only his drawers.

  A nervous titter of laughter had her pinching her lips together.

  “Do you find something amusing, wife?”

  “You are amusing. I thought you were very tired, but you don’t seem tired at all.”

  “I’m not the slightest bit tired. I wanted to be alone with my wife.”

  “Oh,” she said on a long exhale.

  “What do you know about the act of love?”

  Madeleine’s face felt hot. “Nothing. I had no idea that people used their tongues . . .” She gasped when he ran his tongue up her neck.

  “Wait until you see the many ways a tongue can be used in the act of love.”

  Her legs trembled violently beneath her.

  He swept her up into his arms and walked her to the bed, tucking her in under the covers. Leaning over her, he kissed her. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

  Where did he think she would go? Her legs were still trembling, which would make it difficult to walk even if she had somewhere to go. Was it always like this, she wondered? Would her legs and hands shake every time her husband kissed or touched her? She would have to ask Catherine. While she waited, she grasped handfuls of the bedding and tried to calm herself.

  She’d always prided herself on being a practical sort of person, and any practical person would know that people had been doing whatever was about to happen here since the beginning of time. Acting as if she were the first to ever lie with a man was silly, and she was never silly if she could avoid it.

  Simon emerged from the water closet and came toward her, resembling the Greek gods she’d seen in the books Catherine was always bringing home from the village library. Although her husband could put those gods to shame with his golden good looks and muscular body.

  As he came closer, the trembling began anew.

  Then he got into the bed with her and drew her into his warm embrace. “You’re shaking, my sweet.”