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

by Olivia Bennet

  “Yes, well the Duke and I went back to the site of her incident and can you guess what we found?”

  George shrugged. “I was not there, how could I?”

  “We found the ball on the ground beneath the tree. Someone had definitely shot in her direction.”

  “Yes, well, I was with the Duke at the time, so clearly it was not me.”

  “That does not mean you could not have orchestrated it. Why would you do that?”

  Gefferton narrowed his eyes at George. The steward walked towards the window, shoulders set. “Helmsfield is beginning to suspect…things.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The way he stares at me. The way he speaks to me. He is short with me, unfriendly.”

  “Perhaps he just does not like you. In case you were unaware, you are not a likable fellow.”

  George barked a laugh. “Oh, I do know that, My Lord. I also know that Dukes do not normally show emotion in such a manner.”

  “Helmsfield is no ordinary Duke. He is known to be…eccentric.”

  “Perhaps. However, it is always prudent to remind you, in case you have forgotten, which side you are on.”

  “So you did have my daughter shot?” Gefferton growled.

  George turned, regarding Gefferton with cold eyes. “She was not in any danger. My man is an excellent shot. He meant to hit the tree. It was simply a warning, not an execution. The fact that a bit of wood broke off and embedded itself in her side was an accident.”

  Gefferton ground his teeth together. “This was never part of—”

  “No doubt Helmsfield will come to you, sooner or later. I know how you nobles love to band together. You always think you’re better than the rest of us. You will not do that to me. You understand?”

  “I had no intention of—”

  “Do you understand?”

  Gefferton snorted. “As long as you understand that it goes both ways. You, too, cannot throw me to the wolves without consequence to yourself.”

  “Good. Now we understand each other. Besides, now the Duke is too busy worrying about your daughter’s health to bother with us.”

  Gefferton clenched his jaw.

  * * *

  Emmanuel poked his head in Isabella’s chambers, a smile on his face. “Good morning. And how are you feeling today?”

  Isabella’s mouth turned down. “Three days of bed rest is more than enough time, I think. I feel much better. Tomorrow I am coming downstairs.”

  Emmanuel walked into the room and sat himself on the sofa opposite Isabella. “There is no hurry, my dear. Take your time to heal. We are not impatient for you to exert yourself.”

  Isabella snorted. “Well, I am. I cannot wait to be shot of this room.” She looked around with a frown and then her eyes widened in mortification and she hastened to add, “Not that it is not lovely.”

  Emmanuel smiled. “Would you feel less restless if I brought you some books to read?”

  Isabella nodded slowly. “That would be a start.”

  “And perhaps I could visit with you in the evening and we could play a game of cards.” His eyes flicked to his former housekeeper. “With Mrs. Pinfield to chaperone, of course.”

  Isabella turned to Mrs. Pinfield. “Only if it won’t put her out too much.”

  Mrs. Pinfield inclined her head. “I am at your service, Your Grace.”

  “And I thank you for yours, Mrs. Pinfield.”

  “Oh, how endearing,” Isabella grinned teasingly at them both. They both turned and glared at her and she lifted her hands in mock surrender. “Apologies.”

  Chapter 23

  Whist

  “You needn’t look so grim, Emmanuel. It was no more than a few shillings.”

  “That’s not the point, Isabella,” Emmanuel grumbled. “I fail to understand how you could have followed my play in such a fashion! Could you not tell that it was mathematically impossible, after the Sergeant Major’s discards?”

  “As a matter of fact, I could not,” Isabella said, ruffled. Emmanuel was rarely impatient, but whist brought out his least appealing qualities. “You forget, Your Grace, not everyone has your ability with numbers.”

  “But it was perfectly obvious,” Emmanuel protested.

  “Perfectly obvious to you. A mystery to most.”

  “All it requires is some application of memory, Isabella.”

  “My memory may not run to figures, but I’ll warrant it’s just as sharp as yours, Emmanuel,” Isabella said. “It’s merely that my bent is for words. I’ll wager the price of our losses over again that you can’t recite four lines of Shakespeare together, even after attending all the plays you have.”

  A glint came into Emmanuel’s eyes. “That’s a wager you’ll lose, Miss Addison.” His lips curved into an uncharacteristically wicked grin, and he recited,

  “In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire

  That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

  As the death-bed whereon it must expire

  Consum’d with that which it was nourish’d by.

  This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,

  To love that well which thou must leave ere long.”

  Isabella stared at him in astonishment. She seized Emmanuel’s face in her hands and kissed him soundly.

  “Lose, Your Grace?” she whispered in Emmanuel’s ear. “I do believe I’ve won.”

  Emmanuel smirked, “So why do I feel like I’m the one who got a reward?”

  Isabella bit her lip, trying to conceal a pleased smile. “Well…”

  Emmanuel leaned forward. “What is it?”

  “I need to ask you something. I completely understand if it’s something you’re not comfortable with but there is no one else I can ask.”

  Emmanuel’s brow rose and he flicked a glance toward Mrs. Pinfield who was snoring gently on the sofa. “All right. Ask me.”

  Isabella also looked at Mrs. Pinfield, before leaning forward so she could speak directly in Emmanuel’s face. “What happened that day in the clearing?”

  Emmanuel’s face filled with color. “W-What?”

  “Tell me.”

  “I, uh…” Emmanuel scratched his head. “When a man and woman…uh…”

  He looked away from her and then back, swallowing hard. “Surely you have read about this already?”

  “Read about what, Emmanuel? Tell me.”

  Emmanuel closed his eyes, inhaling sharply through his nose. “What you experienced in the clearing is something that…when two people uh…engage in sexual congress—”

  Isabella gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth, eyes wide. “No! That was sexual congress? I am…soiled?”

  Emmanuel, in his haste to reassure her, grasped her wrist hard. “No! You’re not soiled. You’re still…pure. That was just. Really, all we did was kiss.”

  “But…?”

  Emmanuel nodded. “Yes, your body reacted to what we did as if we had sexual congress.”

  Isabella merely stared at him with wide eyes, awaiting clarity.

  “Your emotions, uh, you got carried away and…well.” Emmanuel sighed. “Your body got carried away and you…achieved completion.”

  “So it was some sort of…anomaly?”

  “N-not really. It does not always require full congress to bring about that reaction.”

  “Was it…wrong, what happened?”

  “No. It was,” Emmanuel shook his head, “beautiful.”

  “Then why did you withdraw from me after? You barely spoke to me.”

  “You barely spoke to me!”

  They stared at each other in surprise before they both burst out laughing.

  “I suppose we really are a pair,” Isabella said.

  “Yes, a pair of idiots.” Emmanuel agreed.

  Isabella reached out and punched him in the arm.

  * * *

  Emmanuel settled down on his bed, a slight smile on his face. He was still thinking about Isabella and her questions. That had been
the most nerve-wracking ten minutes of his life. He had not been prepared. If he was honest with himself, he had never thought that he might have to explain any of this to a lady. He had never expected that emotion would be such a large part of his relationship with his future wife. He felt the need to seek advice for himself. He did not want to steer Isabella wrong.

  He sighed loudly, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud.

  Life is good.

  The smile slid from his face as he thought about the reason Isabella was confined to her room; why they were able to sit alone in her chambers and talk of forbidden things.

  Mr. George Chandler.

  Emmanuel was increasingly certain that he was the man who was responsible for his parents’ deaths. Every time he closed his eyes, he had fragmentary dreams of that time—almost every night.

  There was not much he could see of the assailants’ faces, but those eyes—those cold grey eyes were imprinted on his psyche. They burned into him every night, staring with malice as he stabbed his father repeatedly and then lifted a hand and shot at him.

  Can two people possibly have those very same eyes? I think not.

  Emmanuel sat up in bed, his breath coming short. He had long ago vowed that he would not die until he had avenged his parents. Now he had a chance to do just that. All he needed to do was to capture Mr. Chandler, get him to admit what he did and then…

  He sighed, lying back down and stared up at the ceiling.

  * * *

  Breakfast was presented service à la française in the dining hall and for once Emmanuel and Lord Gefferton were eating at the same time. Everyone else was either still asleep or already finished with their meal. Emmanuel took a breath, deciding that there was no time like the present.

  “Gefferton, may I have a word?”

  Lord Gefferton looked up with a grin. “Is it time then? For you to ask for permission to wed my child?”

  Emmanuel hesitated because it was indeed past time that he asked for permission.

  Should I kill two birds with one stone?

  “Well, yes, that too,” he said.

  Gefferton raised an eyebrow, putting down his fork to face Emmanuel. The younger man sighed, straightened his spine, and looked Lord Gefferton in the eye. “Sir, I am enamored of your daughter. I would consider it the greatest honor if you were to give me permission to marry her.”

  There was a squeal from the doorway and both men turned to see Lady Gefferton and Lady Edric smiling with delight. They turned and embraced each other before stepping in the room to offer hearty congratulations all around.

  “Ladies?” Lord Gefferton raised his hand placatingly, “do not get ahead of yourselves. I have yet to give my permission.”

  Both ladies shouted him down and Lady Gefferton took his hand. “Consider our permission granted, Your Grace. When do you want to formalize it?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “Wonderful. Isabella has been cleared to dine with us tomorrow. You can do it then!” Lady Edric clapped her hands with delight.

  Emmanuel smiled. “Yes, I suppose we shall.”

  Lord Gefferton walked out of the dining room and the moment was lost.

  * * *

  Emmanuel caught sight of George Chandler walking down the garden path. His stride was determined, as if he had a definite destination in mind. Emmanuel slipped out the side door in his study and stumbled awkwardly after the steward.

  He prowled after Mr. Chandler using the shrubbery and his knowledge of the lay of the land to keep himself out of view. Emmanuel’s heart quickened, sure that he was on the cusp of getting some answers.

  They ended up at the lake, with Mr. Chandler skirting it before disappearing back into the woods. By the time Emmanuel caught up with him, he was deep in conversation with another man.

  Emmanuel crept as close as he could without breaking cover, straining his ears in an attempt to hear what they were saying.

  “That was a close call with the girl,” Mr. Chandler growled.

  The other man shrugged. “I couldna have divined that she would stab hersel’ wi’ a piece of wood.”

  “A piece of wood released by your lead ball.”

  “Och, mayhaps I should ha’ aimed higher,” the man smirked, looking not in the least bothered by almost killing somebody.

  “In any case, it worked.” Mr. Chandler removed his hand from his pocket, and Emmanuel saw that he was holding a small pouch. It made a jingling sound as Mr. Chandler handed it to the other man who opened it, extracted a gold coin, and bit it. Then he nodded in satisfaction.

  “Well, I shall be taking mysel’ off now then.”

  “You do that.” Mr. Chandler turned and began to walk away. If he continued on the path he was on, he would bump straight into Emmanuel. The Duke backed away, concealing himself in the underbrush, praying that he would not blunder into a mole hole. He was torn between wanting to follow both Mr. Chandler and the other man.

  If that was the man who shot at Isabella, Emmanuel was not about to let him get away with it. However, he seemed like a hired killer and Mr. Chandler the perpetrator of the crime.

  He frowned, wondering where a steward would get so much gold. His mind flicked to the Viscount but he shook his head in denial. The Viscount had been just as distraught as Emmanuel at the injury. It was unfathomable that he had ordered it on his own child.

  Besides, he was the one who found the discharged lead ball, beneath the tree. If he had ordered the shooting, all he would have had to do was conceal it and they would have been none the wiser.

  Emmanuel decided that he was going to speak directly with the Viscount. It was the only way to get the truth. The question was, to do it now or after the proposal?

  He limped after Mr. Chandler, feeling his leg throbbing with pain, caused by walking on uneven ground and the ensuing rubbing of the wooden leg on his stump tip, which was prone to injury or sores. He ignored it, intent on not losing the other man. Fortunately, Chandler walked straight to the Manor, with no further detours. Emmanuel slipped back into the bed chamber, ringing the bell for his valet.

  When Andrews came in Emmanuel pointed at his leg. “I require some salve.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Andrews bowed to him and hurried away.

  * * *

  Isabella was sitting on the window seat when Sarah stepped into the room, crossed over, and came to sit opposite her.

  “I understand your beau is going to propose tonight.”

  Isabella put down her book and looked impassively up at her sister. “Is that so?”

  Sarah’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t know?”

  Isabella shrugged sullenly. “I’m confined to my room. Nobody tells me anything.”

  “Well, I’ve heard you will be joining us for dinner and a proposal.”

  “Oh.” Isabella worked very hard not to blush.

  Sarah squinted at her, mouth twitching. “You’re excited about this. You cannot wait.”

  Isabella ground her teeth together. “Do not ruin this for me, Sarah.”

  Sarah clutched her pearls as if insulted. “Me? I would never.”

  Isabella snorted. “Oh, you so would. Just please…don’t.”

  Sarah snorted, looking away. “I’ll never see what you see in the one-legged Duke, but I have no intention of perpetuating any mischief. I am a married woman now.”

  “Indeed you are. I pray you remember that.”

  Sarah simply laughed and got to her feet. “Well, I had thought to keep you company until then but if you are disposed to be disagreeable, then I shall take my leave.”

  Isabella stretched her lips in the parody of a smile. “All right. I will see you later.”

  Sarah sighed and shook her head. “Oh, Bella…” She flounced out of the room and Isabella heaved a sigh of relief to see her go. She did not have the mental energy to deal with her sister’s peccadillos. She had an engagement dinner to prepare for.

  * * *

  The dinner bell went p
recisely at eight o’clock and that was Emmanuel’s cue to leave his study and make his way to the dining room so he would be first to greet his guests.