Dukes In Disguise

by Grace Burrowes, Susanna Ives, Emily Greenwood

  Eventually she drew the curtain to cover the window and forced herself to move to the other side of the coach and read a book. When that didn’t work to distract her flitting thoughts, she took out some tatting. She thought about her family, and how good it would be to see them, and how they would likely be angry when she told them her news. She returned to her book, reading pages at a time without having any sense of what the words meant.

  It began to rain. Rowan was outside, assuredly growing wet and uncomfortable on her account. She wanted to insist that he give this up, that he deposit her at the next town, but she didn’t. She knew the commanding Duke of Starlingham would never agree to such a thing, and it would diminish what he wanted to offer her if she would not accept it. And so she accepted it.

  Five hours in a coach alone gave her a great deal of time to think. And all she could seem to think about was the man riding steadfastly alongside her coach in the rain. Asking nothing of her. Demanding nothing of her. Though she was denying him what he wanted very much—and he’d made his feelings about this known—he hadn’t tried to force her to accept his proposal. Though she’d feared her own capacity for weakness before his strength and the power he wielded as both a man and a duke, he’d never once tried to overwhelm her. And he might easily have tried.

  She understood now that he would never seek to overpower her, just as she would never again allow herself to discount her own needs and wishes. He respected her, just as she respected him.

  As the coach finally drew near the crossroad that would lead to the last three miles of her journey, Claire signaled to the driver to stop.

  It was still raining, but she hardly noticed as she hurried to get out of the coach. Rowan was just circling back, having noticed that they’d stopped.

  “What’s going on, Claire?” he called as he rode closer.

  “I need to talk to you,” she shouted over the drumming of the rain.

  He dismounted and strode toward Claire, who was growing rapidly wet.

  He, though, was drenched, water running in streams off his hat and wetting his cheeks. He looked closed-off and unreachable, but she had to trust that was because he wasn’t happy with the way things stood.

  “Are you well?” he asked in those familiar gruff tones.

  “I think I will be,” she said, then felt suddenly shy. She dearly hoped she hadn’t ruined everything between them. “That is, if you haven’t changed your mind.”

  His shuttered expression slowly softened as her meaning penetrated. He leaned closer, his eyes now searching hers. “Do you mean… have you changed your mind?”

  “I have, Rowan.”

  She had the very great privilege to see hope dawning in his eyes, to feel it reaching forward to touch the hope rising in her own breast. “Dare I hope that you love me as I love you, Claire?”

  “Yes, Rowan. I do love you, so very dearly.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, as though some great weight had been lifted. When he opened them, they were shining. “Then you will you marry me, Claire?”

  His voice was hoarse and so dear to her. She threw her arms around him. “Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes!”

  And then they were kissing and speaking broken phrases, the words tumbling over each other.

  When they finally broke apart, Claire noticed that the rain had eased to a drizzle, and the coachman had wisely turned his attention to the horses. Rowan leaned his forehead against hers. “What changed your mind?”

  “You,” she said. “You helped me see how strong I am.”

  He shook his head, as though he couldn’t understand such words from her. “Would you even have left home to begin with if you weren’t strong? Or said no to me all those times when you wanted to say yes? You’ve made your own decisions and stuck to them, even when it didn’t please me.”

  “I know,” she said. She grinned. “Seeing you out in the rain, riding along just to see me safely home, made me realize that I can trust you. That I can trust myself to both give and take with you.”

  He looked down his nose at her with a deliciously excessive amount of haughtiness. “So what you’re saying, Miss Beckett, is that you are very comfortable with me being uncomfortable?”

  She laughed, and he chuckled, drawing her close again. “Who ever would have guessed that I would fall in love so quickly and so hard, and with a woman determined to hide all the sweetest parts of herself?”

  “I suppose I’m lucky that you’re not easily discouraged.” She felt as though her smile would never stop.

  “From the moment I first saw you, dearest Claire, I felt that there was something between us that had existed before we even met. Something eternal. Fate.” He shook his head, laughing. “If my friends ever hear me talking like this, they’ll never let me hear the end of it. I’ll be getting gifts of tarot cards at Christmas, and encouraged to predict the outcome of every horse race, and teased until I want to plant them all facers.”

  “It does all sound ridiculous,” she said.

  “And yet it’s true.”

  “And it’s wonderful.”

  With Rowan’s horse now tied to the coach, the two of them climbed inside for the last few miles.

  “You’ve made all this quite moot,” she said, “my coming home to announce I won’t marry the baron. A duke is a far better catch than a baron, so I’m very unlikely to make any of them unhappy now.”

  “They might not like me,” he pointed out.

  Her lips quivered as her eyes lofted heavenward.

  “Why don’t you go in first,” he suggested, threading his fingers through hers, “and confess that you went to Louisa instead of your aunt. I suspect that will give them adequate reason to be upset. And it will give you an opening to explain that you mean to proceed differently from now on. They will, after all, always be your family. You will want to be on good terms with them.”

  “That, my dear duke, is an extremely sensible idea.” She kissed his cheek, lingering there simply to breathe him in. “I really have chosen exceedingly well.”

  He kissed her again, and she knew she’d never grow tired of his kisses, or of him. “You have, haven’t you,” he said, laughter rumbling through him. “And so have I.”

  THE END

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed our dukes’ adventures in Lesser Puddlebury. It was an absolute delight working on this story collection with Grace Burrowes and Susanna Ives, who are two of the most creative, talented, and generous writers I know.

  March is an exciting month for me because this novella is releasing at nearly the same time as How To Handle A Scandal , the second book in my Scandalous Sisters series. This is the sequel to The Beautiful One, and I’ve included an excerpt of How To Handle A Scandal that I hope you’ll enjoy.

  You can keep up with all my releases and author events, and also sign up for my newsletter, on my website at http://emilygreenwood.net. I only send out newsletters two or three times a year, and I will never share your email.

  Happy reading!

  Emily

  How to Handle a Scandal, Chapter 1

  * * *

  Seventeen-year-old Elizabeth Tarryton is having the time of her life being the talk –and maybe the scandal —of her first Season, and she has no intention of ending the fun any time soon by marrying. Tommy Halifax, who’s a few years older, is the brother of Eliza’s beloved guardian, Will, Viscount Grandville.

  Tommy Halifax had the perfect solution to the little problem of Miss Lizzie Tarryton’s adorable outrageousness: he was going to marry her.

  The idea still made him a bit light-headed, because he hadn’t thought to marry for years. He was not yet twenty-two, and if asked even the year before whether he might marry soon, he would have roared with laughter. But then he’d met Lizzie.

  A twinge of conscience prodded him; he should probably have discussed his plans with Will first. But that was a conversation he didn’t want to have yet. And they were brothers—there was nothing but respect
and affection between them, so Will had no reason to object to Tommy’s suitability.

  The dance was over, and Andrew was leading Lizzie to where Will and Anna were talking. Before Lizzie could go off with anyone else, Tommy made his way to her, pleased that her face lit up when she saw him.

  “There you are!” she said, coming close to give him a quick embrace. She smelled of that soft rose scent that was uniquely hers.

  Andrew clapped Tommy on the back jovially, Anna embraced him, and Will asked after Longmount. After all the pleasantries had been tended to, Tommy, his heart beginning to race, looked toward the open terrace doors, where few people seemed to have gone despite the warmth of the summer night. He held out an arm to Lizzie.

  “Let’s go outside and cool off. You can tell me about everything I missed.”

  She agreed and chattered happily as they walked, telling him about what had happened while he was away. When they stepped through the doors and onto the terrace, she looked up at the dark summer sky and sighed. Her capacity to be nearly always joyous was one of the things he loved best about her.

  “Isn’t it the most splendid night?” she asked.

  As Tommy watched the starlight mingle with the gold lights in her hair, he was pierced by her beauty. He murmured his assent as he led her away from the manor and into the quiet, deserted space of the garden, which was lit with torches.

  “It is a splendid night,” he said to the side of her face as she gazed at the stars. He took a deep breath. “But do you know what makes it truly splendid for me? Being here with you.”

  There was a longish pause, then she turned to look at him. He’d never said something so personal to her, and he was dying inside waiting to know how she would take it.

  “You must be in the mood to flirt tonight,” she said lightly.

  “I’m not flirting. I’m serious.”

  She frowned. “I’m not good at being serious, Tommy.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “You can be serious when you choose.”

  “Er…thank you,” she said, sounding puzzled.

  He’d never once kissed her, though he’d wanted to desperately, countless times. But now that he had such serious intentions toward her, and considering how well they knew each other—surely it wouldn’t be inappropriate now?

  “Lizzie,” he said, huskiness creeping into his voice, “I want to kiss you. May I?”

  She seemed surprised by his request, as though all the days and nights they’d spent talking and flirting hadn’t been leading in any particular direction. But there was a bond between them, built of affection and friendship. And attraction—he felt as certain of it as of his own breathing. They were meant to be together.

  “Erhm.” And then she smiled. “Yes. I’d like that.” The words, breathy wisps that hinted at awakening emotions, inflamed him.

  She tipped her head up and his heart thundered. When his lips finally—finally!—met hers, he felt it: she was going to be the love of his life.

  Her mouth opened to him, and her tongue gently sought his, which gave him the unwelcome awareness that he wasn’t the first man she’d kissed. How many of the gentlemen of the ton had tasted her? he wondered with a surge of jealousy.

  He pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter, because he meant to be the last.

  A little whimper escaped her, and she hugged him closer as though she needed him. The awareness touched him in the most welcome way. She needed him, just as he needed her. He forced himself to break the kiss.

  “Lizzie,” he murmured, “we can’t go on like this.”

  “Like what?” She sounded adorably dazed.

  He smiled a little. “Stealing kisses in the garden.”

  “Who would know if we did?”

  “Trust me, we can’t. I won’t survive the experience.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, dearest Lizzie, that you make my head spin.”

  “Do I?” She laughed. “Will said the same thing yesterday when I told him I loved champagne.”

  “You make my head spin in a different way.”

  An inscrutable emotion flitted across her face. “Er…” She mumbled something that sounded like, “Me too.” But it might also have been something that ended in “you.”

  Then she smiled brightly, as if they’d been talking about any old thing, and said, “Do you know, I should quite like a lemonade.”

  And before he could say a word, she’d stepped away from him toward the ballroom.

  He stood blinking for a moment at her abrupt departure. That kiss…it had been amazing, but it hadn’t been amazing just for him. He’d felt the thrill pulsing between them, heard the wonder in her voice.

  He moved to the doorway. She’d found her way to Will and Anna, who were standing with the rest of his cousins near the edge of the ballroom. It occurred to Tommy that this was perfect: most of the people they loved best were right here. What better moment could there be to declare their love for each other?

  * * *

  Lizzie swept into the ballroom wondering if she had a silly smile on her face. But Tommy had just kissed her! And it had been a little wonderful.

  He was a much better kisser than Lord Hewett, who’d stolen a kiss in an alcove at a house party last month, or young Mr. Fletcher, who’d quickly pressed his lips to hers under the mistletoe at a Christmas party. She wasn’t even going to count the lieutenant she’d kissed in the garden at the Rosewood School the year before, because that had really been about something besides kissing.

  Her smile slipped a little as she thought of what Tommy had said afterward. He had made her head spin a little, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Talking made things too fixed, like they were all decided, when really she just wanted everything to be possible.

  She hoped the kiss wasn’t going to make it impossible to go back to the way they’d always been, because she needed Tommy to be her friend.

  She hoped… No, surely it wasn’t necessary to hope anything. Surely Tommy wasn’t going to be like the other gentlemen who’d wanted to be serious. This was Tommy, with whom she always laughed and teased with no consequences. Surely it had only been a kiss, even if it had been a little amazing. But she decided right then that they mustn’t do it again.

  “And what have you been up to, Lizzie?” asked Will’s cousin, Louie Halifax, who only months before, on the shocking death of both his uncle and his cousin, had become the Earl of Gildenhall.

  Lizzie thought “Gildenhall” was the perfect title for him, since, with his dark blond hair and extremely handsome looks, he seemed gilded. And since he’d been a commoner his entire life, he was not at all stuffy—which wasn’t to say that he didn’t have quite a bit of presence. He was certainly considered the catch of the season by all the mamas of the ton, even if despite being over thirty, he seemed in no hurry to be caught.

  “Oh, nothing,” Lizzie said. “Are there any cakes left?” She strained to see beyond Louie’s shoulders.

  He chuckled. “There were three left last I saw, unless Andrew ate them.”

  His brother rolled his eyes. “Why would I do such an uncouth thing?”

  Emerald, their younger sister, cocked her head. “Have you ever noticed how we say people are uncouth, but we never say they are ‘couth’?”

  Emerald was the same age as Lizzie, and, with eyes as purely green as Tommy’s, perfectly named. Thanks to the dramatic reversal in her family’s fortunes, Emerald and her older sister Ruby were enjoying the kind of lavish season they could never have had with the burden of debt that had once pressed on them all.

  “Or ‘ept,’” Ruby pointed out. “People are inept, but never ‘ept.’ Maybe we should make it a word. This could go down in history as the ‘ept’ season.”

  “You can’t just sprinkle your conversation with made-up words and think everyone will start using them,” Andrew said.

  “Can’t I?” Ruby said with the light of challenge in her eyes. Ruby Halifax might look haughty, but she had a
competitive streak when it came to her brothers, and Lizzie found their squabbles entertaining.

  From the moment she’d met them, Louie and his brothers and sisters had treated Lizzie like one of the family, and getting to know them had been one of the best parts of becoming Will’s ward.

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned, and there was Tommy. He looked funny, but not in a humorous way. Something fizzed unpleasantly inside her.

  “You left so suddenly, Lizzie. I had an important question to ask you.”

  She’d heard that kind of thing before, and it wasn’t good. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. He wasn’t going to do the very thing she desperately didn’t want him of all men to do--he mustn't.

  She had to lighten the tone immediately and keep him from speaking serious words he would regret. But before she could speak, Will said, “What’s going on, Tommy?”

  Oh please, she thought desperately, don’t let this be what it sounds like.

  Tommy’s green eyes pinned her. He had black hair with a rogue blade of white slashing through at his forehead, and she’d seen more than one young lady swoon over his striking good looks. But to Lizzie he was simply Tommy. And he wasn't supposed to say momentous things to her.

  “I’m sure Tommy doesn’t have anything to say to me that can’t be said in front of all of you,” she said, giving him a smile meant to encourage him to keep things light.

  But his face was serious.

  “You’re right, Lizzie. The words I have to say, while especially for you, will mean something for all of the family. Because what I want to ask, dearest Lizzie,” he said, taking her hand and dropping fluidly to one knee as his eyes held hers and her stomach plummeted, “is if you will do me the very great honor of becoming my wife.”

  All the breath rushed out of her. She could feel that Will had gone still next to her, and she heard Anna’s quick intake of breath and knew that the others were watching as well. Behind them, people were glancing curiously their way, doubtless drawn by the sight of Tommy Halifax on bended knee.