The Duke of Seduction

by Darcy Burke

  by The Duke of Seduction

  * * *

  Lavinia’s mother bustled into her bedchamber. “Time to wake up, dear. That must have been a rather horrid headache. You never sleep this late.” She pushed open the heavy drapes and moved to stand at the edge of Lavinia’s bed.

  Rolling over to avoid her mother’s gaze, Lavinia exhaled. “Yes. And I may spend the day abed.” What reason did she have to get up? She closed her eyes against the offending daylight.

  “Oh no, not today. Today is the day you will be engaged to marry!”

  Lavinia’s eyes flew open, and she sat up, turning toward her mother. “What?”

  “Sir Martin approached your father last night at the club and asked if he could propose today. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  No, it was terrible.

  Why? She’d already decided he was her best option.

  But she didn’t want him. She wanted Beck. Who didn’t want her.

  She resisted the urge to bury her head under her pillow. “What time is he coming?”

  “My goodness, you don’t sound very excited, but then you did say you wanted to spend the day abed.” Mother’s brow pleated, and she frowned. “Are you still ill?”

  “Yes.” She actually was ill. Or felt like she could be.

  “Well, rest for a bit, and I’ll have some chocolate and rolls sent up.” Occasionally, her mother could be quite caring and thoughtful. “I’m sure Sir Martin won’t call for a while yet.” She gave Lavinia an encouraging smile before departing.

  With a groan, Lavinia threw herself back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Anger and sadness warred inside her as she directed all manner of ill thoughts toward Beck. A few minutes later, a maid arrived with a small tray and set it on the table situated in front of the window that faced the street below.

  After she left, Lavinia pulled herself from the bed and trudged to the table. She picked up a roll and nibbled the corner as she pulled the drape aside, hoping it was gray and rainy outside to match her dismal mood.

  A blue ribbon tied to the railing in front of the house across the street made her heart stop.

  Beck.

  What the devil was he doing? He’d been clear last night—she had nothing to hope from him. Unless he’d changed his mind.

  She had to know.

  If she rang for her maid and asked to dress for an excursion, she couldn’t slip out unnoticed. And if she told anyone where she was going, she wouldn’t be allowed. Mother would insist she stay home to await Sir Martin’s arrival.

  Which meant she had to dress herself. No matter. She possessed clothing that could be donned without help. It would be a simpler costume, but once she put the pelisse over it, she would look quite put together.

  She worked quickly and was able to ready herself in astonishingly rapid time. But then she was exceptionally motivated. Now the trick would be to steal from the house without attracting notice. That left the main staircase out of the equation. Her mother was probably in the front sitting room watching for Sir Martin’s arrival, even though it likely wouldn’t happen for a couple of hours yet.

  Oh, Sir Martin. She did feel bad for not wanting to marry him. He was a nice gentleman—if a trifle overbearing—but compared to Beck, it would be like settling for a potato pie when there was maybe a roast rack of lamb available.

  She had to see if the lamb was on the table.

  Lavinia went to the door and had to step back as it opened inward. Carrin’s eyes widened as she took in Lavinia’s costume. “Oh! You’re already dressed.”

  Pulling Carrin into the room, Lavinia peered into the corridor to make sure no one was there before closing the door. “I need to go out,” Lavinia said, realizing she could both use Carrin’s help and trust her to keep a secret.

  “I can see that,” Carrin said with a hint of sarcasm that made Lavinia smile.

  “I didn’t realize you could be so droll, Carrin. I need to sneak out. My mother can’t know I’m leaving.”

  Carrin’s eyes widened again, but only briefly. “You want my assistance?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Carrin gazed at her shrewdly. “Give me your hat, gloves, and pelisse. I’ll secret them downstairs. And take them out to the mews.”

  Lavinia began to understand Carrin’s plan. “I’ll step out to the garden, then steal back to the stables.”

  “Where I will give you the rest of your garments and you will be on your way.”

  Lavinia stared at her maid in awe. “How have I never realized or appreciated your brilliantly devious mind?”

  Carrin shrugged. “It’s apparently never been necessary before.”

  Lavinia removed her gloves. “Well, I am deeply grateful for it now.”

  A short time later, Lavinia made her way to the garden without incident. She was fortunate to evade her mother’s notice entirely. Carrin was waiting for her in the mews and helped Lavinia don her garments. “You don’t wish me to come with you, my lady?”

  Lavinia shook her head. “I may only be gone a few minutes.” She just had to dash up to Grosvenor Square and back. Unless…what if he was waiting there for her as he had been before?

  She wouldn’t know until she got there. Impatience stabbed through her as Carrin sought to place a pin in her hat. Lavinia raised her hand. “Never mind the pins. I’m sure it will be fine.”

  Carrin glanced up at the sky. “It’s a bit breezy.”

  “Then I’ll hold on to it,” Lavinia said.

  After thanking the maid one more time, Lavinia left the mews and cut out to Park Street. Her pace was swift as she strode to Grosvenor Street and then over to the square, aware she was without escort. If anyone saw her, it could be a bit of a scandal. Perhaps she should have brought Carrin…

  She clutched at her hat, holding it atop her head as she reached the square and quickly marched to the tree, her gaze raking the area. In her haste, she hadn’t brought her spectacles, which she now regretted. She’d have no idea if someone of her acquaintance could see her—but thankfully, there were few people about.

  There was also no sign of Beck, which she found disheartening. But she still had the tree… She thrust her hand into the hollow and pulled out the folded foolscap.

  My dearest Lavinia,

  Her heart cinched, and she struggled to swallow. That didn’t sound like a man who didn’t want her.

  I’m afraid I was hasty in our discussion last night. I hope I might speak with you in the park today. I look forward to seeing you.

  * * *

  Yours,

  Beck

  Yes, hers.

  Only she couldn’t wait to see him at the park. By then, she’d be engaged to Sir Martin. Without hesitating, she spun on her heel—again holding on to the damned hat—and started walking, then stopped abruptly. Where was she going? She knew Beck lived on Brook Street, and she thought he lived on the corner. But which one?

  Bother!

  She started across the square toward Brook Street and hoped it would just become apparent. Didn’t she deserve some good luck?

  Suddenly, she had it.

  Coming toward her, his hat pitched low over his brow, was Beck. He paused when he saw her. She squinted as she tried to see his expression, but it was hopeless.

  They both rushed forward at the same time, and they both looked around to gauge who might be seeing them.

  “Where’s your maid?” he asked gruffly. He looked about, then focused on her face. “And your glasses?”

  “I left both at home. And don’t say we can talk in the park later, because we can’t. I’ll be engaged to Sir Martin by then.”

  His eyes widened, and she sensed a bit of something in his gaze—relief, perhaps? “You’re not already?”

  She shook her head. “But he’s coming to call soon.”

  He swore under his breath and turned her about, tucking her arm under his. He walked quickly toward Brook Street.

  “Are we going to your house?” she asked.


  He stopped just before they crossed over to the corner of Brook Street and turned to look at her. “We shouldn’t.”

  “But we must.” She dragged him forward after checking for traffic, and they continued to the corner. “Is this your house?”

  “Yes.” He escorted her quickly up the stairs. The door was opened immediately by a tall, rather handsome retainer—the butler, she’d guess. Beck glanced at him but said nothing as he guided her into a large drawing room. They didn’t stop until he’d taken her into another room, in the front corner of the house, and closed the door behind them.

  She looked about and instantly knew it was his office or music room or both. There was a desk that was obviously well used, with a variety of quills of varying sizes strewn about along with a stack of foolscap in one corner. There were also shelves of books she longed to peruse—even knowing he wouldn’t have any about geology. And finally, in the corner were three guitars situated around a cushioned stool.

  Her feet carried her to that corner, and she pushed aside the draperies to see he had a view of Grosvenor Square. She turned to him. “You can just make out our tree.”

  “Yes.”

  His gaze was intense as he leaned against the door, where she’d left him. He removed his hat and sailed it toward his desk, but it fell quite short.

  “Lavinia.” Her name had never sounded so seductive or so gorgeous coming from his lips. “I am not a gentleman. I’ve carried on with married women with no thought to their husbands. Despite that—and perhaps in part because of it—I’ve sought to help young ladies like you find happiness in matrimony. And yet, it seems I’ve held marriage in rather poor regard. I can only think it’s because of the manner in which my sister was treated. A woman’s life, her very existence, is reliant on whether she marries, and it’s grossly unfair.”

  She couldn’t have agreed with him more, and yet she wasn’t entirely certain as to his point. She said nothing, waiting to see if he would get to it.

  “Miss Lennox cried off. There was no wedding this morning.”

  She heard the pain in his voice and knew he felt responsible. She strode back over to him and felt her hat slip once more. With a muttered oath, she tossed it in the same direction he’d sent his.

  She continued forward until she stood before him. “It’s not your fault.”

  His eyes were bleak. “She may not have become engaged to Sainsbury if not for me.”

  “She may not. Or she may have.” Lavinia lifted a shoulder. “You mustn’t torture yourself.” And yet she could see he was. She began to glimpse another side to this man, a side he kept very well hidden.

  She rested her hand on his chest, splaying her fingers over the front of his coat. “Jane Pemberton told me that Miss Lennox saw Sainsbury with another woman—this isn’t your fault,” she repeated, earnestly looking up at him. “Why did you turn me away last night?”

  “Because it was the right thing to do.”

  “Are you going to turn me away today?” She flexed her hand against him briefly. “If you do, there is no going back. Sir Martin is coming, and I’ll have to say yes. If not, my parents will find someone I may not like.” She watched the torment in his gaze and whispered, “What are you afraid of?”

  “You.” The word was barely audible. “And me.”

  “Singly or together? I prefer the latter, and I don’t think you have anything to fear.”

  “You don’t know that. I’m…difficult.”

  She was beginning to see that. “I’m patient.” She smiled, thinking of her own faults. “Mostly. And definitely when it matters.” She stared into his eyes, longing to kiss him. “I’m running out of time, Beck. What did you want to say to me at the park? You’ll have to say it now or not at all.”

  “Marry me.”

  She’d wanted to hear those words, and yet she couldn’t quite believe he’d said them. Perhaps because he sounded as if he were being stretched upon a rack. “Forgive me, but your offer doesn’t sound particularly compelling.”

  He slipped down the door until he was on his knees before her. His gaze was naked with need and a host of emotions about which she could only speculate. The humor she’d tried to hold close to her breast as protection fled in the face of his…desperation.

  “Lavinia, marry me. I’m prone to dark moods, and as I said, I haven’t behaved as a gentleman ought. But I can’t imagine the future—my future—without you.”

  His words heated and delighted her, but she wouldn’t make it easy for him, not even with the torment he was clearly enduring. “Will you be faithful to our marriage?”

  “I haven’t thought of or looked at another woman since I kissed your neck.” He sounded rather surprised. But also proud and pleased. “I want only you. I can’t imagine wanting anyone but you.”

  She shivered with need.

  “Yes.” She cupped his face. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Now stand up and kiss me.”

  “I’ll do more than that.” He tore off his gloves and rose, then swept her into his arms, his mouth crashing down on hers with feverish intensity. His hands dug into her back as he clutched her close. It was the most delicious feeling in the world to be held by this man.

  Who would be her husband.

  She wound her hands around his neck and tangled her fingers in the hair at his nape. His tongue dipped into her mouth, and she met the invasion, exploring and tasting him as desire built in her core.

  He arched her back, clasping her against him as she bent her knees just slightly. His hand moved lower, over her backside, holding her as he pressed into her.

  She moaned into his mouth, wanting to feel what she’d felt at the sand pit the other day. He’d utterly ruined her for anyone else. If she’d wed poor Sir Martin, she’d only be comparing him to Beck.

  He stood her up and pulled back, looking down at her clothing. Wordlessly, he tugged her gloves off and tossed them away, then began unfastening her pelisse.

  She shivered, thinking it was fortuitous that she’d dressed so simply. Captivated by the spell he’d woven around them, she took her arms from his neck and let him divest her of her outer garment. He laid it gently over the back of a chair, which, while thoughtful, created a tension in her belly. She wanted him to move faster. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted to be sure this was real.

  He came back to her and turned her around to unlace her day gown. It was quick work, and she felt the fabric loosen and air touch her flesh just above her corset and chemise. She pulled the garment forward and let it pool at her feet. He bent to pick it up as she stepped free of the muslin. He took it to the chair, where he carefully set it atop the pelisse.

  She shrugged out of her petticoat and kicked it aside. When he made to pick it up, she said, “Don’t bother with the rest. You are far too meticulous. Are you sure you’re a rake?”

  He arched a dark blond brow at her, and the edge of his mouth quirked up in a seductive smile that turned her insides to jelly. “Most definitely. Shall I show you?”

  She swallowed but couldn’t speak, only managing a nod.

  He moved around her and unlaced her short corset. His lips moved against her neck, hitting that very spot he’d first kissed all those nights ago in the Evenrudes’ library. The corset, which she hadn’t managed to cinch very tightly, came loose and fell to her waist.

  His mouth continued along her neck, moving up to her ear and then down again to nibble on the lobe. He licked along her jaw and back to her neck, dragging his lips to her nape. He clasped her above the corset and gripped her tightly as he kissed her back and shoulders.

  Then his hands skimmed up her rib cage to the underside of her breasts. He cupped her through the chemise and she gasped, tipping her head to the side so he had full access to her neck and collarbone and shoulder. She’d never been more exposed to anyone, and it felt divine.

  His fingertips tugged gently at her nipples as he swept her back against him, where she felt the firm press of his rigid cock against her backside. She wante
d to turn, to kiss him, but she didn’t want his touch to stop. Her breasts felt so heavy and full, and his caresses only increased the sensation.

  He pulled at the edge of her neckline, loosening it and tugging the cotton down until her breasts were free. Then his hands were on her bare flesh. He was warm and hard, and she couldn’t contain her moan. What he was doing somehow triggered a wave of desire in her core, making her want him there. She’d no idea her body worked that way and now wondered what else she didn’t know. So many things. And he’d teach her all of them.

  She tried to turn in his arms, but he moved one hand down to her abdomen and held her flat against him.

  “Don’t turn. Not yet.” The hand on her breast tugged at her nipple, pulling her flesh until she cried out. Sensation shot through her, weakening her legs. “I’ve got you,” he whispered against her ear. His tongue traced along her flesh as he worked her breast and slid his hand lower.

  She felt air on her legs and realized he was pulling up her chemise. She held her breath until the fabric was up around her waist with the corset. Anticipating what would come next, she parted her legs.

  His fingers stroked gently along her folds. “Turn your head and kiss me, Lavinia.”

  She did as he bade, and his mouth captured hers. His tongue speared into her mouth as his finger slipped into her flesh. She whimpered, barely able to stand, but he held her fast against him, his hands arousing her body.

  He rocked against her, and she felt the hardness of his shaft against her backside once more. She was at once lost in the throes of ecstasy and desperate for more.

  Suddenly, he swept her up and carried her to the chaise, where he laid her down. He shrugged out of his coat and tore his cravat from his neck before he leaned down and, without preamble, took her breast into his mouth. He shoved her garments down, and she wriggled her hips as he pulled them free.

  His lips and tongue teased her nipple, lightly licking and sucking then drawing hard on her flesh. She clasped his head and schooled herself not to rip his hair out. She could hardly stand it as need built inside her.