A Sinful Duke She Can't Refuse (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Olivia Bennet

  He shook his head. “Not at all. I have missed you just as much. I came straight to see you as soon as I arrived. And it is about time you called me by my given name.”

  Her smile was a song, affecting the recipient in unanticipated ways and resonating long after it was done; a cantata reverberating with its own unique tone and aria.

  “And you should call me by mine. I missed you, too. Will you stay? Have nuncheon with us.”

  He shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid I cannot. However, may I call upon you tomorrow and escort you for a stroll around Hyde Park?”

  She positively beamed. “Yes, you absolutely may.”

  He bowed to her. “Very well, then. I shall look forward to it. Thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

  “I assure you, it was my pleasure. I look forward to tomorrow, as well.”

  He hooded his eyes, if only to disguise the heat in them at her words. He could not help but dwell on the pleasure of her company and how much more it might one day become. “I’ll see you then.”

  With that, he took his leave of her.

  * * *

  The Duke proposed a curricle ride rather than a walk as his leg was still hurting from the journey. Isabella was only too happy to oblige. The yellow vehicle was drawn by a well-matched pair of powerful, glossy bays, who tossed their heads and stepped proudly, drawing more admiring glances than the Duke and Isabella. They were followed by a mounted groom.

  “Are you sure you would not rather go home and rest? It’s quite all right if you would.”

  He laughed. “Faced with the choice of resting or spending time with you, I should always choose you.”

  She felt a bubble of happiness in her bosom at his words but merely smiled demurely, eyelashes sweeping downward to cover her eyes. They rode in silence for a while, merely enjoying the scenery before Isabella turned to him. “Tell me how it happened. How did you lose your leg?”

  Emmanuel sighed. “Tis an ugly story. Do you really want to hear it on such a beautiful day?”

  She kept looking into his eyes, letting him know that he did not at all repulse her. Finally, he pulled to the side, under a large oak.

  “All right. It was about four-and-ten years ago when I was but a lad of eight. My parents and I were traveling from our country seat back to London when the wheel came off of our carriage. Our driver was putting it back as we waited when brigands set upon us. It was coming on dusk and they wore masks but their eyes, at least, were visible. They threatened us, ordered us to give them everything we had. My mother immediately turned over her reticule but my father…” Emmanuel looked away and Isabella stretched out her hand, laying it on top of his and squeezing gently.

  “M-my father attacked one of the men. There was a fight. My father had a pistol which he discharged. I think he hit one of the men. But the other ran a sword through his neck and he died. My mother began to scream and one of them grabbed her and told her to shut up. But she was hysterical so she kept screaming. They pinched her nose and mouth closed and she suffocated.” The Duke turned to her with haunted eyes. “I was so scared, frozen where I stood. I did nothing while they killed my parents. But when my mother fell to the ground, something broke in me…”

  She simply squeezed his hand tighter and waited. “I did not care if I lived or died so I ran at the one that had suffocated my mother. He lifted a pistol and shot me in the leg while another one of them drove the coachman through with a sword. I lay there, injured, for two hours or so before another coach came by. The ball had shattered my knee and the wound became infected. The sawbones had no choice but to amputate.”

  Chapter 9

  A Rose by Any Other Name

  Isabella took a deep breath, feeling as though she had been holding it for the entirety of his story. She blinked at Emmanuel, not really knowing what to say.

  “That…must have been very lonely for you.”

  Emmanuel’s eyes dipped but not before she saw how they shone with tears. “It was. I do not know if I would have survived it were it not for my aunt and uncle.”

  Isabella wiped a tear from her own eye. “I am glad that you had them.”

  Emmanuel straightened up, his face forcibly brightening. “Well, this has been a lovely heart-to-heart but now that it is done, would you like to take a walk with me?”

  “I would very much enjoy that, Your Grace.”

  Emmanuel carefully climbed down from the curricle, trying to appear nonchalant. This was one of those actions that was so simple for those with both legs—and dashed difficult when one leg was made of wood.

  Normally, one foot went onto the step, a metal loop, then the other onto the ground. He’d rather perform both with his real foot, having once gotten his prosthetic foot stuck in the step, and more than once landing on the wooden leg crookedly, to crash face-first into the ground. Instead, he bypassed the step altogether and hopped down to the ground, landing on his good leg.

  “Wonderful. Shall we?”

  Isabella stood up as well, allowing him to assist her as she gracefully climbed down. She replied, looping her arm around his, and turning to him with a smile, “We shall.”

  * * *

  Emmanuel halted in mid-stride in the center of the crowded road and snapped his head around to stare at Isabella. “What do you mean—you’ve never been to Drury Lane?”

  Isabella rolled her eyes and dragged Emmanuel out of the road before a carriage ran him over. “Exactly what I said, Emmanuel. It hardly warrants this manner of a reaction.”

  Emmanuel gaped at her as though she had just insisted that Prinny was a coal miner.

  “Are you mad? A Drury Lane production is—why, it is magical, Isabella! There's nothing like it! The beauty of the language, the utter dedication of the actors to their roles, the energy sparking through the crowd. It is the most wondrous thing imaginable! Why have you not gone before?”

  Isabella bit her lip, feeling suddenly shy and inadequate. Her love of stories made her stand out from others and she could well understand why Emmanuel was shocked that she had not availed herself of the opportunity to visit Drury Lane. However, he did not understand the struggle involved when a girl wanted to take in a play on her own.

  Most members of the ton took in a play as a family or with their beaus. Her family was not interested in plays. Before Emmanuel, she had not wanted to entertain a beau. Nevertheless, to say she had no one to go with sounded to her ears like a weak excuse. Emmanuel would not understand. “I just have not yet had the opportunity.” She could not suppress the rosiness in her cheeks, eyes on her silver-tipped boots.

  “Oh,” Emmanuel’s tone was unusually soft. She flicked her eyes to his, trying to gauge why. The painful realization hit her and she clenched her jaw, her stomach churning.

  Was that pity in Emmanuel’s voice? She jerked her head up, her shoulders raised defensively and turned to glare at Emmanuel.

  Emmanuel was smiling softly at her, his eyes shining with such open affection that Isabella had to look away, ashamed at her assumption.

  “Well, we have some time to make up for, don’t we?” Emmanuel's voice was warm. “And, as we both would dearly love to see a play and we are courting, I have a proposition for you.” He took a step closer and leaned in so his voice would not carry beyond Isabella’s hearing. “Isabella, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the theatre tonight?”

  She started and looked up at Emmanuel, her eyebrows raised in question. Emmanuel grinned in answer, his eyes twinkling. They were courting, it was true, but he had yet to declare his intentions.

  Could she afford to be seen on his arm and then have him change his mind later on? She did not want to rush him but she really could not afford any slights on her name.

  “Emmanuel...” Isabella hissed, glancing about them furtively in case someone had overheard.

  “Yes?” Emmanuel asked, feigning innocence as he fought back a smile.

  “But—I—you—we can’t—” Isabella spluttered.
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  “Whyever not?” Emmanuel interrupted, his lips twitching as he fought back a smirk. “Is there anything in the ton’s many tedious rules that prevent us from enjoying an evening together? I shall even have Aunt Helen join us as a chaperone.”

  Isabella stilled. She cleared her throat and forcibly dropped her shoulders from where they had been encroaching on her neck. “You’re right, of course, Your Grace. We can take in a play without breaking the rules of propriety. How silly of me to think otherwise.”

  “Don't trouble yourself, Isabella. I expect your reticence is not because you do not, in fact, wish to accompany me?” Emmanuel stared piercingly at her.

  Isabella hastened to reassure him. “Absolutely not. I would love to attend a play with you. I graciously accept your invitation.”

  She curtsied prettily at him, head bowed but then hesitated, her brows pulling down. What did one wear to the theatre? Did she have anything suitable? She had heard tell of the elaborateness of some costumes worn in the audience. Would she have time to get something together in the time between now and then? Perhaps she should not have agreed to accompany him tonight.

  However, to attend a play with Emmanuel, to watch the joy radiating from him as he stared in rapt attention, surely that would be worth any inconvenience. “It would be a pleasure, Your Grace.”

  Emmanuel smiled so brightly the whole of London seemed to pale in comparison. “In that case, let us obtain our tickets at once! Come on! This way!” He spun around with a grace that spoke of his tutelage under a dancing master and sallied forth, a spring in his step Isabella did not know a one-legged man could possess.

  * * *

  Isabella was fascinated by the rambling conversation Emmanuel kept up as they strolled along.

  “—or it might be The Rivals again,” Emmanuel continued, his steps becoming uneven as he bounced along Isabella’s side. “That would be all right, I suppose, although I’d much prefer it if Much Ado about Nothing were on. Soldiers, home from war, banter, intrigue, a small band of friends fighting against injustice—it would make for a perfect introduction to Shakespeare, and the theatre. You’d love it, Isabella!”

  Thus far, Emmanuel had encompassed the outlandish costumes, brilliant acting, captivating scenery, variety of smells, concessions available, and comfort of the seating at Drury Lane in his animated panegyric.

  A few months ago, Isabella might have taken such idle prattle as a sign of empty-headed idiocy, but now she knew better. From Emmanuel, it was a sound more welcome than even the turning of pages in a riveting story. It was like living in her own thrilling tale.

  “I’m sure I would. But, regardless of the work, I’ll be quite content with anything we see.”

  Emmanuel rolled his eyes. “That’s as may be, but your first time at the theatre should be more than merely satisfactory. It should be unforgettable! Outstanding!”

  Isabella smiled fondly as a strange fluttering sensation filled her bosom. She risked a quick glance about them. They were free from prying eyes, for the moment. She had not seen the groom since they left the park. Her mother would have a fit if she found out Isabella was walking around London without a chaperone. She wetted her lips; heart pounding in her ears, then leaned in close. “It will be. You’ll be there,” she whispered, as quietly as she could.

  Emmanuel’s eyes darkened and he gave her lips a quick, lidded glance, filled with things she could not acknowledge. He followed her example, eyes darting quickly to check their surroundings, before leaning forward, his mouth a mere breath away from hers. His hand reached down and clasped Isabella’s, stroking it gently with his thumb. “So I shall be. Right by your side.”

  He hesitated, and then straightened up, blue eyes boring into brown. “Forgive me for being forward but the nearness of your lips is the greatest temptation I have ever experienced.”

  Isabella swallowed and tried to push herself away from him before she took leave of her senses. She gave Emmanuel’s hand a quick squeeze, then pulled away to clasp her hands again.

  Such intimacies must be reserved for the marriage bed, not in the middle of the alley, lack of witnesses notwithstanding. She cleared her throat. “Just so. Well, Your Grace, lead on.”

  Emmanuel’s smile flickered like candlelight in a breeze. He stepped away rapidly and then nodded toward the end of the alley. “Of course, Miss Addison. This way.” He hurried on, not bothering to wait for Isabella to walk by his side.

  Isabella frowned. Surely, Emmanuel realized she was merely attempting to exercise caution.

  Perhaps he thinks you are ashamed of his leg.

  The voice in her head sounded strangely like her sister Sarah. Isabella winced as she recalled Emmanuel’s words from the dance.

  “Does it make you uncomfortable to be seen in public with me?”

  This was far more difficult than she had anticipated.

  “Emmanuel? Emmanuel, wait!” Isabella called out and sprinted after him, catching up with him as the alleyway turned into the main thoroughfare.

  Emmanuel turned around, with a smile a touch too brittle to reach his eyes. “Yes, Isabella?”

  Isabella took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “I…er…fear I may have unintentionally caused offense. I assure you that my—my actions a moment earlier were merely the result of a natural concern for our continued wellbeing, rather than an implication that I am embarrassed—”

  “Isabella, you—” A moment later, Isabella found herself being yanked back into the alley by the sleeve of her frock.

  “Emmanuel?”

  “Shh,” Emmanuel hissed, keeping them in silence until they had reached the mid-point of the alley. Emmanuel glanced around, his eyes darting back and forth with almost frantic speed. “Isabella, I can’t believe—you magnificent, absurd—” he took a deep breath, his eyelids fluttering nervously. “I wasn’t upset at…at what you thought I was upset by.”

  Isabella frowned. “Then what was it? What did I do?”

  Emmanuel rolled his eyes. “I was upset at myself, Isabella! You were right to pull away from my—” he jutted out his jaw, “-—my lapse of control. And clearly my…indiscretions invite your own, which was not my intention.”

  Isabella blinked, the precarious reality of their situation crashing into her. “Oh,” she said at last.

  “Oh indeed,” Emmanuel answered, his smile adopting a bitter note. “So, shall we continue, and this time, I’ll keep my hands to my own person?”

  Isabella sighed. “I suppose we must,” she said with no small amount of regret.

  Emmanuel’s smile was commiserating. There really was some special pull between them that went beyond ordinary attraction. The need to touch, to be close, to have, and to hold…it was compelling. He almost reached out to take her hand before remembering himself. “It’ll come with practice,” he mumbled inaudibly.

  Isabella let out a frustrated laugh. “Let us hope so. Shall we?” She gestured ahead of them.

  Emmanuel spared a look for Isabella one more time, his eyes dark with longing, before taking a deep breath and setting his eyes on the busy street that awaited them. “Right. Once more unto the breach, my dear.”

  Chapter 10

  Shakespeare

  Isabella frowned as she tried to remember the source of that quotation. “One of the Henry’s or Richard’s, I assume?”

  Emmanuel smiled, the pinched look around his eyes starting to fade. “Good guess, Isabella! It is from Henry V! That would be another excellent one for you, I think. Full of patriotic speeches about the might of England, people doing their duty for the greater good, and all that. I should recite the passage for you in its entirety so you can experience its full glory.” He cleared his throat and proceeded toward the street, his head, and shoulders held high. “‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace, there’s nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility; but when--’”

  Isabella followed, her heart full of lo
ve for this passionate man with a nigh irrepressible spirit, who somehow reciprocated her feelings. How lucky it was that she had waited to find a husband and that his aunt was such a busybody.

  * * *

  “And, of course, it’s been years since I spent my halcyon summer days lounging about backstage, but perhaps we could slip in there after the show. There are some people there I would very much like you to meet, assuming they are still affiliated with Drury Lane. And, good God, this has grown,” Emmanuel said, staring up in awe at the magnificent facade of the Theatre Royal. “I had heard that it was being rebuilt, of course, but I had no idea its replacement would be so grand.”