The Duke Is But a Dream--A Debutante Diaries Novel

by Anna Bennett

  “I can’t wait,” Caroline said, smiling.

  “How do I look?” Delilah asked, uncharacteristically nervous.

  “Beautiful—as always. Enjoy yourself.”

  Delilah squeezed her shoulders gratefully and headed toward the drawing room, leaving Caroline alone—and free to dwell on her night with Nash.

  After a rocky beginning, she’d had a lovely evening with him. But there was still much she needed to say to him. And more she needed him to reveal to her.

  Today, Nash was meeting with his friend Drake, and he’d promised to share any new responses to the ad when he came to her later that night. She was eager to hear any promising leads—but nervous too. Her relationship with Nash was new and fragile as a blossom, and it wouldn’t take much of a storm to scatter its petals to the wind.

  She told herself that if she and Nash were meant to be together, they’d find a way—no matter who she was. And that made her feel slightly better about the decision she’d made—to leave soon, whether she’d regained her memory or not.

  Making the decision had been difficult, but she sensed that telling Nash would be even more so.

  Feeling at loose ends, she went to the desk, pulled out her journal, and began to write.

  Dear Debutantes,

  Romantic relationships consist of more than breathless waltzes, moonlit gardens, and tender kisses. They require an equal measure of heartfelt talks, sincere apologies, and second chances.

  In short, sometimes your handsome prince may behave like a toad.

  Occasionally, you (the fair princess) may act like a witch.

  But, if you are willing to face the dragons together, you just might reach your happy ever after.

  Caroline stared at the passage, amazed that the salutation and the rest had poured out of her effortlessly. Once again, she’d instinctively written a letter in the style of The Debutante’s Revenge.

  Of course, it was entirely possible she was merely mimicking the columns she’d read.

  But it was also possible she was the authoress.

  A new column was scheduled to appear in the paper three days from now. But if the column wasn’t there as expected, it could be a clue.

  Specifically, a clue that the authoress had failed to meet her deadline. Illness or a holiday could be to blame, or the lapse could be due to something rather more unusual—such as memory loss.

  * * *

  Nash knocked softly on Caroline’s bedroom door just before midnight.

  She opened it wearing a long, white nightgown—so soft and ethereal that it stole the breath from his lungs. Her long dark hair hung over her shoulder in a thick braid, and her curious gaze flicked to the cloak draped over his arm. “Nash,” she breathed. “Come in.”

  He closed the door behind him and offered her the cloak that had belonged to his sister. “Would you like to go for a walk? I’ve never been to the park at night, but I imagine we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

  “That sounds lovely.” She flashed him a warm smile as she took the cloak and ran her fingers over the fine silver-braided trim. “Where did you get this?”

  “It was Emily’s.” Opening the doors of her armoire had been like releasing a floodgate of emotions, both happy and sad—but at least he was feeling something, for a change.

  Caroline gazed at him with sympathetic eyes—as if she understood. She flicked the cloak around her shoulders, and he gently pulled the hood over her head. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said simply.

  “I have some news from Drake—about the ad,” he explained.

  “I have something I want to tell you too,” she said, and the wistful note in her voice made the skin on the back of his neck prickle. “But why don’t we wait and talk at the park?”

  He nodded and took her hand, leading her down the back staircase and out the door that opened into the garden. They wound their way around the fragrant rosebushes, beneath the ivy-laden trellis, and through the creaky garden gate. Neither of them spoke till they had walked two more blocks and crossed the street into Hyde Park.

  “Do you know this place?” he asked.

  “Yes. Hyde Park,” she said—as though she’d surprised herself.

  “Maybe that’s a good sign,” he said hopefully. “Maybe people and places will become a little more familiar each day. Let’s walk along the Serpentine and throw bread crumbs for the swans.”

  Her fingers absently went to the pendant he’d given her, and she smiled as she traced the swan’s neck with a slender fingertip. He gently tugged on her hand and led her down the winding path.

  Moonlight glinted on the river, and the evening breeze stirred small ripples on the otherwise glassy surface. The sounds of gently lapping water and insects punctuated the silence, and it seemed he and Caroline were the only souls for miles.

  As they rounded the first bend, he pulled the heel of a loaf of bread from his jacket pocket and gave it to her. She laughed as she tore off small pieces and tossed them onto the shore, oblivious to the way the starlight caressed her face and danced in her eyes. He fought the impulse to slide his hands inside her cloak and pull her body against his.

  “So,” she began, pausing to tear off a morsel of bread. “What did you learn from your friend Drake today?”

  “We’ve had a few replies to the ad,” he said. “Most of them dead ends. But there was one interesting response today.” He pointed to a bench a bit farther up the path. “Shall we sit?”

  Caroline nodded and tossed the rest of the bread into the Serpentine where it landed with a plop near a bevy of grateful swans. She and Nash walked to the bench and sat, their knees only an inch apart. He stretched his arm, resting it behind her and barely resisting the urge to pull her close and kiss her senseless.

  But even in the relative darkness, he could see the mixture of hope and apprehension in her eyes, and he knew that what she needed now was information—at least as much as he could provide. “This morning a slender woman, maybe thirty or forty years old, walked into Drake’s office,” Nash began. “She wore a black veil and wouldn’t give her name, but, based on the physical description we gave in the ad, she thought she might know you. She said that if you were the woman she knows, you’d have a diamond-shaped birthmark on your shoulder.”

  * * *

  Caroline sat straight up, and her heart thudded in her chest. “Someone knows who I am,” she said, incredulous. “Did she tell you my name?”

  “No.” Nash’s golden eyes glowed with regret as he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “She didn’t want to give her name or yours until she’d confirmed your identity. She insisted on meeting you face-to-face.”

  Caroline sprang to her feet and paced in front of the bench. “We can see her tomorrow,” she said eagerly. “Right after breakfast.”

  “Drake suggested that, but the woman said she couldn’t return until Friday.”

  Her belly sank through her knees. “But that’s … that’s three days away.”

  “I know,” Nash said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  She strode across the pebble path, the silver cloak swirling about her legs. “Why all the secrecy? If the woman truly knows me, why wouldn’t she just tell Drake my name? At least then we’d have some information to work with.”

  Nash went to her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “Drake said she was very concerned with maintaining her anonymity.”

  “I don’t like it.” Caroline suppressed a shiver. “What if she’s merely involved in a scheme to claim the reward?”

  He arched a dark brow and looked at her earnestly. “She made a point to say that she doesn’t want it.”

  Caroline pondered that for a moment, then leaned her forehead against his hard chest. He reached for her trembling hands and held them tight. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It’s just frustrating. To be so close to knowing … and not know.”

  “Hopefully you’ll have your answers on Friday morning,” Nash said so
othingly. “And I’ll be there with you.”

  They stood by the river for a while, Nash’s strong arms encircling her as she listened to the leaves rustling overhead. Someone out there knew her name. Maybe. “There’s always the possibility that this mysterious woman is mistaken,” Caroline said—more as a reminder to herself than to him. “That she doesn’t know me after all.”

  Nash impulsively lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back. “Or she could be the key to discovering who you are.”

  “I hope so,” she choked out.

  “You need to know something,” he said. “No matter what, I will stand by you. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re highborn or not, wealthy or poor. I know who you are, Caroline, and I like you.” He cupped her cheek in his palm. “Very much.”

  The desire in his eyes made her belly turn cartwheels. He hadn’t mentioned love or marriage, but those things were almost too much to hope for.

  “You said you had something you wanted to talk about too,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, reluctant to leave his embrace. “Let’s sit.” She led him back to the bench and faced him, wondering how to begin. “I’ve realized I cannot stay in your house indefinitely. Somewhere out there, my family could be looking for me, wondering where I am.”

  “I know,” he said. “That’s why we placed the ad. And, fortunately, it seems to have worked.”

  “I’m hopeful the woman knows me,” Caroline said. “Or, perhaps I’ll wake up tomorrow and remember everything. But just in case neither of those things proves true, I need a plan.”

  Apprehension flicked across his face. “What sort of plan?”

  “For a start, I think I must find another, more suitable living arrangement.”

  He swallowed hard. “Where would you go?”

  “I thought I might seek a position as a lady’s maid.”

  “A maid?” he repeated. “Caroline, you don’t need to do that.”

  She raised her chin proudly. “I can’t rely on your generosity forever. No matter how much I adore Delilah and … you.”

  His gaze snapped to hers for a heartbeat. “I don’t want you to go,” he said hoarsely.

  “It might be hard for you to understand, but it’s important for me to make my own way in the world.”

  “I respect you for wanting to,” he said, frowning slightly. “But making your own way is fraught with hardship and danger. Cramped living quarters. Long, hard hours. Employers who would think nothing of taking advantage of a pretty, young maid. I would spare you all that if I could.”

  Her chest squeezed. “I know. But I can take care of myself.”

  “You don’t have a reference,” Nash argued. “You have no details about your education or upbringing. How will you convince someone to hire you?”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work, and I can be quite persuasive. Besides, I have little choice.”

  “You could marry someone.” The words hung awkwardly in the air between them while Nash sat opposite her, looking like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d said.

  She hesitated. “Even if a gentleman were to propose to me—a scenario that is unlikely to occur—I could never agree to marry without knowing who I am.”

  He stood and paced in front of her. “Please promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

  “I can’t remain with you, hoping someone will miraculously learn of my existence and present themselves on your doorstep to claim me. I can’t abide feeling so helpless.” She leaned forward, willing him to understand. “I must do something.”

  “All I ask is that you give yourself—and me—a little more time. There’s a good chance you’ll know more about your situation on Friday. Will you at least stay till then?”

  She went to him and slipped her hands around his waist. “I will.”

  He hauled her against him, sending delicious shivers through her body.

  All she and Nash really had was the present—right now.

  His golden eyes melting her insides like butter. His fingers running through her hair. Her heart thumping like a bass drum.

  He cradled her face in his hands. “Can I kiss you, Caroline?”

  She took a few seconds to reply, only because she wanted to soak in every detail of the moment and imprint it in her memory. The stillness of the park. The faint mist rising off the water. The moonlight glinting on Nash’s thick curls.

  But mostly she wanted to remember the way he was looking at her.

  “You can kiss me, Your Grace,” she said. “Right here, in front of the swans. In fact, you can kiss me anytime you like.”

  Chapter 19

  “Gentlemen may try to goad you into betting on anything from whist to the weather. Enjoy the thrill of the game if you wish—but never make a wager you don’t want to pay.”

  —The Debutante’s Revenge

  Nash released the breath he’d been holding. Caroline was going to stay for at least a few more days. As he led her back to the park bench, her green eyes glowed with desire and affection. Maybe even something more.

  “Come here,” he murmured, pulling her onto his lap. He slanted his mouth across hers and teased the seam of her lips with his tongue. When she opened to him, he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he felt for her into it.

  In one short week, she’d burrowed her way into his barricaded heart. In spite of her current predicament, she’d shown courage and compassion. She’d seen him at his absolute worst … and she was still there.

  Her soft bottom rested on his thigh, and he slid a hand over the tantalizing curve of her hip. “I will never have enough of you,” he growled. “If we stayed just like this for a hundred years, it would feel too short.”

  She leaned into him and sighed. “What you just said—it’s what I’ve always wanted to hear. And you’re saying these things without knowing who I really am.”

  “I know enough,” he said gruffly. “I know that you’re brave and independent and loyal—and that I’m a better person when I’m with you.”

  She tilted her forehead to his. “Whatever the future may hold for us, I will treasure this night. And I want you to know that no matter who I am, my feelings for you could not be more real.”

  Her slightly ominous tone raised the hairs on the backs of his arms, but he refused to be anything but optimistic about Caroline and him. If she cared for him half as much as he cared for her, it would be enough.

  Cradling her face in his hands once more, he pressed his mouth to hers. He slid his hands inside her cloak and over her curves, nibbling his way down the side of her neck. She sighed and wriggled closer, pressing a thigh against his cock and making him harder than he already was. She speared her fingers through his hair and moaned into his mouth.

  “It feels very wicked to do this in public,” she whispered. “Especially when I’m wearing only a nightgown under my cloak.”

  “Wicked? Or exciting?”

  She shot him a sultry smile. “Both.”

  He slid his hand beneath the hem of her nightgown and caressed her calf. Traced circles around her knee. Skimmed his palm over her inner thigh.

  “Nash.” She parted her legs and grasped his shoulders. “Someone could see.”

  “No one’s around,” he assured her. “But I’ll stop if you want me to.”

  “No,” she breathed. “Please don’t.”

  He moved his hand higher until he found the spot that made her breath hitch and her eyes flutter shut. She was wet and warm, and the mewling sounds she made in his ear drove him wild. He continued stroking her as he spoke softly.

  “You can trust me, Caroline. I may have disappointed you before, but it won’t happen again. I’m not going anywhere. And I pray to God you don’t either.”

  Her breath came in rasps, and her head lolled onto his shoulder, as if she lacked the strength to hold it up. “You’re difficult to resist, Your Grace. Especially … right … now.”

  She clutched at his jacket and cried out as she climaxed, coming apart in his
arms. And in that moment, the moonlight shined brighter, the air smelled sweeter, and his worries felt lighter. Everything was right with the world.

  Caroline was his, and he was hers.

  Nothing on earth could change that.

  * * *

  The next evening, Caroline threaded a silver ribbon through Delilah’s hair, taking care not to disturb the curls she’d just pinned into place. The effect was dazzling, if she did say so herself.

  Delilah stared into the looking glass on top of her dressing table and smiled at Caroline’s reflection. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but based solely on your talent for styling my hair, it’s quite possible we shall discover you are a lady’s maid.”

  “Maybe I am a lady’s maid,” Caroline mused, “or maybe I have a houseful of sisters who constantly demand my services.”

  “Either way, I’m glad you’re here now.” Delilah turned her head, admiring the spirals that dangled from her crown.

  “You’ll be the belle of the Delacamp ball,” Caroline said.

  “I wish you could come with us,” Delilah said, pouting. “I’ve been so eager for this night to arrive, and now that it’s here, my knees feel wobbly. It would be different if you were with me.”

  “Nash will take excellent care of you.”

  Delilah rolled her eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of. He won’t let me out of his sight. Lord Brondale and I barely had a moment alone when he visited. But we did talk privately in the garden, and I feel as though I’m falling for him.”

  Recalling all of Nash’s objections about Brondale, Caroline frowned slightly. “What is it about him that you’re drawn to?”

  “Beyond his charming manners, winning smile, and perfectly sculpted backside?” Delilah quipped.