by Tamara Gill
The duke stumbled back and clasped the mantle for support. “Clearly you jest.”
“Jest? Why would I joke about such a thing? I mean, I do not know the rules of having a lover, of being someone’s mistress, but I do believe it requires us to not show open displays of affection while being together quite often when alone. To partake in house parties and trips with our mutual friends so we can be alone.”
The duke placed his arms behind his back, lifting his chin in a determined set. “I did not come here to ask you to be my mistress.”
Despair made her knees weak, and she sank back on to the settee. “Then why did you come?”
“I came, Lady de Wolfe to ask for your hand in marriage.”
For a moment words failed Darcy and realizing she was gaping at him, she shut her mouth with a snap. “Your wife!”
“Yes.” The cold, determined word left her reeling.
“No.” Her response wasn’t at all filtered, and she cringed when hurt flickered through his eyes.
“May I ask why madam, that me asking for your hand in marriage is so abhorrent to you?”
Darcy clasped her hands in her lap and took a calming breath. “It’s not abhorrent, but marriage is not an institution that I wish to be a part of again. My first marriage was a disaster and only diverted when his lordship decided to have a heart seizure beneath his whore. I do not want to be beholden to anyone, but I do wish to have a man in my life. To make love to him whenever I wish without having to promise to obey and honor him before god when it is most likely, as I well know, that it’s only the woman who has to abide by the rules.”
“I am not Lord Terrance, Darcy. I would never dishonour you in such a way as to have a mistress.”
“I have heard such declarations before you know, and it did not make one ounce of difference when Terrance saw someone he wanted.”
Athelby started to pace, and she steeled herself to be strong.
“Cameron, we can have a life together, be lovers and enjoy ourselves without marriage getting in the way. You said yourself only a few weeks ago that I was not suitable to be a duchess and you are right. Nor do I wish to be.”
The muscle at his temple jumped.
“Please don’t be angry with me.” Fear seized her that she may lose him. “I do want you, just not marriage.”
“I cannot have a mistress, Darcy. It is bad enough that I have slept with you without taking vows before God. Over the last few weeks I have fallen under your spell, and I cannot remove myself from it. You know I am a man of rules and for doing what’s right. Do not ask to be my mistress. I could not dishonour you so, I want you as my duchess.”
Tears pricked her eyes that she would hurt him. “I cannot be your wife. I will not be any man’s wife ever again.” Darcy stood, going over to a decanter of whisky and pouring herself a dram. “My marriage was horrible, truly awful and Terrance has cured me of the ill wish.”
Cameron stormed over to her, taking the glass from her hand and making her look at him. “I am not the earl, damn it.”
Darcy took the glass out of his hand and drank it down in one sip. She would need all the alcohol she could get to tumble through denying her duke. “What you just did is why I’ll never have another man think they own me. You do not get to choose what I want. You do not get a voice in what I’ll do. If I wish to drink whisky at nine twenty in the morning, I damn well shall. And if I want to say no to your proposal, I shall do that as well.” She hated hurting him, but the fear of marriage, of being owned was too great, and she couldn’t help herself. “I wish to be your lover, but that is all. Do not ask any more of me than that.”
Athelby glowered at her, any pretence of not being angry with her long gone. In fact, Darcy would easily surmise that he was furious.
“You could be carrying my child. Are you going to make an innocent babe a bastard simply because you do not wish to be a wife!”
The statement made her start. She’d not thought of such a possibility. “If I am increasing, which we shall know soon enough, I will marry you, without hesitation. I would never do that to a child, but we don’t know that yet, and so as of this time, my answer is no.”
“You stubborn woman.” He stalked to the door and ripped it open. “Let me know via correspondence what the outcome to that probability is, and we’ll deal with it then. Until such time, good day to you, my lady.”
“Cameron,” she said, following him into the foyer. “Please try and understand my reasons. They were never put in place to hurt you. I would not wish to do that.”
“And yet you have.” He bowed. “Good day to you, madam.”
Darcy swiped at a wayward tear as the duke slammed the door in her face. She went to the window and watched him enter his carriage, that door too being slammed even though the coachman had been trying to close it with dignity.
His carriage pulled away, and a severing made her clasp her chest. Was it wrong of her to never marry again? Was she being selfish and cruel to a man who did not deserve to be tarnished with the same dark cloud as her husband?
Yes, the duke was opinionated, a nuisance when it came to rules, but he was also passionate, caring, and wanted her to be his wife. Was she wrong in saying no?
Darcy walked back into the library and sat before the unlit fire. That conversation had not gone at all as she’d planned upon seeing him here this morning. Never had she thought the duke ever wanted her especially as a wife. So many times, he’d said she was too opinionated, too wild like her family. Not to mention she was not a virgin, pure and sweet like so many gentlemen wanted to marry. She had been married to a man who cared not the briefest bit about her, ruled her and made her obey him at every turn while living his life in the exact opposite way.
She rubbed her temples as a headache threatened. Not that Athelby was like that, but being so rule abiding, how long before he turned into a mirror image of Terrance? Made her tow his line and not put a foot wrong. The wife of a duke had a lot more responsibility than an earl’s countess, and Darcy did not care for it. No matter how much she cared for Cameron, the title as far as she was concerned could go hang.
For a time, she sat in the room before a maid entered and she requested tea. Pain tore through her that she’d pushed the one man away that she’d ever longed for, loved even if she were honest. They were opposites, there was no doubt, but that opposition suited each other perfectly.
Darcy thought over his brother’s death and could understand his need to marry her. His brother had cared little for the fairer sex, bedded many women and had died in a reckless carriage race over the fairer sex. Leaving many broken-hearted women in his wake.
Athelby’s determination to not be like his sibling made him honourable and made her love him more than she thought possible. He’d stated he was not Terrance and he’d proven that many times since they had been together. He cared for her, loved her and instead of asking her to be his mistress, he’d wanted her as his wife.
Darcy swiped at another tear. What had she done? Her fear of rules had ensured she’d pushed the man she loved away. Maybe forever. Whatever would she do now?
In the week since Darcy had denied him, Athelby had become an utter, and complete dunce. And even he knew it and yet he found it hard to alter his course. All too easily had he reverted to the prim and proper duke as so many called him. Glowering at any person who dared to look happy, partook in a dance or slipped even the slightest with etiquette.
He was an ogre, and he hated it.
After her denial of him, he’d spent the next few days in a haze of despair. Had even contemplated having her as his mistress and be damned to a wife. The life she asked for, where both were free to do as they pleased while coming together for pleasure was appealing, and one night he’d almost knocked on her front door to beg her to do just that. Forget his proposal and have him in just the way she wished.
But the pain his brother had inflicted on the family, the scandal that had rocked a ducal line that had been a pinnacle of
grace and dignity could not be repeated again, and certainly not in his time. He could not do it.
The Marques of Aaron came to stand beside him, throwing him an amused glance. “There are rumors afoot that you’ve won the bet at Whites. Some are even saying you were seen in a highly scandalous embrace with Lady de Wolfe at Leeder’s ball.”
Athelby glowered at Hunter, if only to keep up the appearance that the notion he was the source of gossip did not rattle him to his core. Oh, dear god, had anyone seen them in the billiards room? He cringed and downed the last of his whisky, one of the vices he’d taken up that he did not wish to give up now that he’d started.
“As I said before, the betting book at Whites can go hang.”
Hunter chuckled clapping him on his shoulder. “The source was a reliable one, and I’m sorry my friend, but he’s a gentleman who’s married to one of London’s most gossiping tongues.”
Sir Walton’s wife…
Damn it. Athelby looked across the sea of dancers and met Darcy’s troubled gaze. So, she too was aware of what was being said about the ton.
“What are you going to do about the situation, my friend. You cannot leave de Wolfe to the wolves. After her previous marriage, she does not deserve to be ruined simply because you could not keep your hands off the Lady.”
The steely tone of Hunters words fired his ire. “I asked her to marry me if you must know.”
Hunter choked on his wine, apologizing to a nearby matron who looked at him with distaste. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day.”
“And nor will you, for she said no.”
His friend had the good grace to look appalled before he laughed. In fact, the bastard threw back his head and bellowed over his misfortune. Athelby clenched his fists at his side lest one of them connects with the Marquess jaw.
“I cannot believe it. The delectable Darcy de Wolfe turned down the Duke of Athelby. Whatever are you going to do about it?”
What could he do about it, save kidnap the lady and force her to marry him, which of course was an absurd notion and not one that sat well with him. Kidnapping, no matter if you loved the person or not was out of the question.
Too scandalous for starters.
“There is nothing to be done. I asked, she said no. Duke or not, I cannot force her hand.”
“Do you want to marry her still?”
“Of course, I do,” he said without question or pause. He would marry her tomorrow if she would only say yes. But she did not want him in that fashion. Darcy wanted a lover, a temporary bedmate to pass the time. Not an annoying husband who curbed and impacted her freedom. Or so she thought.
“Will you share as to why she rejected your offer?”
Athelby met his friend's gaze. “She simply does not wish to marry again, and who could blame her after marriage with the Earl of Terrance? Never was there such a disgusting, piece of flesh as he and his many whores.”
Hunter whistled. “I gather you did not like the chap.”
In truth, he’d always hated the man, the one reason more than any other being the simple fact he’d married Darcy. His grandmother was right about her. She was perfect for him simply because they were complete opposites.
He sighed. “I asked her to be my wife, and she asked me to be her lover. And you know Darcy’s temperament, there will be no changing her mind.”
“Show her you’re willing to change. Maybe even be her lover for a time and win her that way. At least you’ll be together.”
Hunter made a good point and Athelby thought about it a moment. “I don’t want a mistress, and I certainly know better than to make a de Wolfe one. I’d have her family down on my head and demanding retribution at dawn.”
“True,” Hunter said, pursing his lips. “They would not care for it on second thoughts.”
He had that right, and as much as he wanted Darcy, he wasn’t willing to make her his whore. It was certainly what a mistress, such a liaison like she suggested they have, would make her. And he did not want such an outcome. He wanted her to be his wife, his duchess. His everything.
“I will talk to her again. With the whispers about town over our indiscretion, it may make her open to negotiation and discussing the marriage option once more.”
“I wish you well, my friend.”
“Thank you,” he said, watching Hunter disappear into the crowd. Cameron headed toward Darcy and coming up to her was pleased that the small group of women who had congregated about her dispersed.
She curtsied. He bowed. “Lady de Wolfe, please would you care to dance?”
Darcy raised one brow and watched him for a moment. He couldn’t discern what she was thinking or even if she’d say yes. In fact, when she continued to remain silent he couldn’t help but look about and see if others were watching their exchange.
He sighed noting they were. “Please dance with me.”
She shrugged and placed her hand atop his own and he led her onto the floor as the first strains of the waltz sounded. Athelby pulled her against him, her warmth and scent of roses intoxicated his soul and he fought not to clasp her too tightly, beg her to be his bride so they might never be apart again. Tell her that he’d never curb her exuberance for life.
“I gather you wish to discuss something, your grace.”
Darcy wouldn’t meet his eye, simply stared over his shoulder. “I do. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that are circulating London about us.”
“I have.”
There was no more discourse and he wanted to shake some sense into her. Did she not know such a scandal could ruin her? As a man, a duke there was no risk to him. Oh yes, some of the matrons of the ton might look down their noses at him for his indiscretion, but they would not dare cut him in society. Darcy faced the complete opposite, widow or no.
“And with the knowledge that if this story about us continues to gain momentum and your reputation could be tarnished, ruined in this set, will you think on my offer some more. I know I’m not the easiest of men, I certainly have my opinions on matters pertaining to etiquette and rules, but I promise I shall try and make you happy, be a better husband than your last one. Give you all that you want and more.” He was begging now, but he didn’t care.
Darcy did look at him then, her paleness giving him pause. “Are you well?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry Athelby, but I cannot marry you. I do not wish to be bound by rules, marriage, and man. I want to be on my own, to do as I please whenever I please.”
“You can still do that with me,” he said, desperate to make her his. “You can do whatever you want, just be my wife.”
“I may have seduced you duke, shown you another side of life, but who you are is ingrained in every ounce of yourself. I do not want anyone to change who they are just to please me. If you’re not willing to be my lover, in a union such as where we promise fidelity for however long that may be, then after tonight we cannot meet like this again.”
“So, you’ll cut me from your life should I not agree to make you my mistress?” Athelby’s stomach clenched. “Be reasonable Darcy. The rumor about us is true, you know that very well, not to mention the woman telling all and sundry is one of the ton’s biggest gossipers. You’ll be ruined.”
“And if I am I’ll return to my home in Devon, retire to a country life and travel. I do not need society, and I will not do what I’m told merely to save my reputation. I will not be owned by any man again. The last one was quite enough.”
“I am not Terrance, surely you must see that.” He pulled her to the side of the room, heedless of whoever noticed their hasty departure from the dance. “Marry me, please.”
“Why are you so determined. I don’t understand you.”
He frowned. “Damn it all to hell,” he said, ignoring the gasps about him. “I’m determined Darcy de Wolfe because I damn well love you. I think I have always loved you and I want you. I want to shower you with everything that I am and own. I want to give you freedom if only you�
�ll promise to return to me each night.”
Darcy stood before the duke of Athelby and could not form words even though hundreds of them bounced about in her brain, begging to come out. He loved her?
Butterflies took flight in her belly, and she clasped her abdomen. Had Cameron really just uttered those words and before the ton?
Yes. Yes, he had.
It was certainly the most scandalous thing he’d ever done, in public at least, and it warmed her heart knowing that he’d declared himself so all could hear. To make her see how much he wanted her as his wife and not care who was about them.
How very rule breaking that was.
Not that she was willing to let him persuade her so easily. The duke of Athelby was against public displays of affection, of allowing couples to dance more than once when at balls and parties and many numerous other things too many to mention. She laughed to herself, Athelby could’ve given her deportment teacher Miss Rivers a lesson or two, and Darcy had never thought to know someone as strict as that old biddy.
“You love me. Why?”
Athelby stood tall, placing his hands behind his back as if facing a set down from his peers, and yet, he remained calm, his beautiful sharp features cajoling her to change her mind.
“I have always loved you I believe, and yet it wasn’t until you said ‘I do’ with lord Terrance that I realized what I’d lost due to inaction. I may not have always loved your opinionated manners, your love of life, your honesty and loyalty to your friends, but I do now, so very much. I think your laugh is the sweetest sound on earth and your kisses the most wicked. I adore that when I’m with you, I forget myself, my rules and regulations and just live.” Athelby stepped toward her, cupping her cheek. “Be mine and let me be yours. Please, Darcy.”
Oh dear… Darcy swallowed and hoped her heart didn’t pump out of her chest. People had stopped dancing and not a whisper could be heard as everyone in attendance watched the duke of Athelby declare himself in the most public manner.
