Dukes Are Forever

by Anna Harrington

  To drive home his point, Grey poked him in his wounded shoulder. Edward sucked in a harsh breath through clenched teeth and somehow kept from punching him.

  “That won’t happen again.” Rubbing his shoulder, Edward shook his head. “But I don’t want him anywhere near my family.”

  “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” Grey studied him over the rim of the glass. “Katherine Benton’s not family.”

  The unintended irony of the comment hit too close to home, almost as sharp as the pain in his shoulder. Kate wasn’t family only because she refused to marry him.

  He rubbed at his shoulder, the ache lingering, as did his growing frustration. In the week since he’d proposed and she’d refused, the stubborn woman had also refused to open her bedroom door to him at night and never left Augusta’s side during the day.

  “She’s making her debut tonight, and the bachelors will flock around her.” Grey shrugged. “Let her settle on one of them and get her off your hands.”

  Edward gave a bitter but confident laugh. “She won’t marry any of those sheep.”

  “She will if she spots the right ram.”

  “Not her,” he mumbled into his glass, taking a gulp of whiskey and welcoming the burn in his throat. “You don’t know what she’s like. You’ve never even met the woman.”

  A rakish smile pulled at his lips. “But I’d like to.”

  “No.”

  The unintended jealousy in the single word surprised even Edward, and instead of having the planned effect of warning his friend away, Grey’s smirk blossomed into a full-out grin at Edward’s expense.

  Grey tossed back the last of his whiskey and set down the glass, then pushed himself to his feet to leave.

  “I’ll keep close watch on Benton,” he assured him. “Count on that.”

  “And Thomas?”

  “He’s keeping watch on you.”

  That rankled him. “I don’t need to be watched.”

  “Oh yes, you do.” He shot him a glance tinged with worry. “End this, Colonel. Send Benton to the Americas and the girl back to the countryside. No good will come of this.”

  But it was too late to stop, the events bringing him to this moment having been unfolding for over a year. Benton deserved punishment for Stephen’s death, and the thought of sending Kate away again—no.

  “Goodness has nothing to do with it,” he muttered. “I’ll show you out.”

  Pushing aside all thoughts that Grey might very well be right, Edward walked with him through the house. Although, he was loath to admit, his trip to the front foyer was also to see what new entreaties had arrived for Kate.

  She’d taken society by storm, even with her presentation at court just yesterday and her official debut not until tonight at the Countess of St. James’s ball. Yet she’d already become the most sought-after lady in London and, thanks to Augusta’s well-planned strategies, the talk of the season. The front door never seemed to shut for all the visitors who came by to leave their calling cards and the deliverymen dropping off gifts.

  “Good God.” Grey stopped suddenly at the sight.

  Dozens of floral arrangements filled the entrance, matching the ones already sitting in the morning room, the drawing room, the breakfast room—Edward chased a footman out of his billiards room yesterday when the man tried to place an arrangement of daisies there. There were other gifts, too…chocolates, ribbons, baskets with notes from young men offering to fill them with her favorite foods and take her on a picnic.

  Edward grimaced at side table and the silver salver, which was buried under the collective weight of calling cards, and the ones from gentlemen callers stacked separately to the side per Augusta’s orders. Those, he snatched up himself.

  Grey looked at him and crooked a brow. “Baaaa.”

  “Get out.” Edward shoved his friend outside. The last thing he heard as he shut the door was Grey’s laughter.

  He scowled. Augusta wanted Kate to be the toast of the season, but this was getting out of hand. Flowers, baskets, books, ribbons—one coxcomb, upon hearing the rumor that Kate missed the countryside, brought her a bird in a cage so she could have a bit of nature with her in the city.

  A bird! Good God. The next thing he knew, one of them would try to win her heart by buying her a pony—

  He froze, then blew out an angry breath at himself and rolled his eyes. Christ.

  With a scowl, he stomped back into his study and tossed the calling cards into the fire. “Damned fool,” he muttered at himself. “Stupid, besotted idiot…”

  Although she claimed she wouldn’t marry anyone, Kate would have her choice of offers by season’s end, and one of those dandies would undoubtedly claim she could continue her medical work. Although it would be a lie—whomever she married would never let her continue to tend to half-dressed male patients and birth babies—Edward would lose her because he wouldn’t make the same false claim. She couldn’t be both a duchess and a doctor, and fear tightened in his chest that she was already slipping away.

  And now, the house was all aflutter over tonight’s event—her debut at the Countess of St. James’s annual ball, where she would be introduced to London society as his ward. Already the rumor was circulating among the servants that she resembled an angel in her ball gown.

  An angel.

  “Damned fool!”

  Pacing the study, he shook his head. He didn’t know what to do. She wanted to return to Brambly and her medical work, but he wasn’t willing to let her go. Medicine! It was ludicrous that she should be so adamant about a profession not even publicly open to women that she was willing to toss over a future with him for it.

  True, she’d helped the villagers, and he’d seen with his own eyes how she brought that baby into the world, which made his chest swell with more pride for her than he had a right to feel. But if she married him, she couldn’t continue her medical work. As Duchess of Strathmore, she would be one of the most powerful and high-profile women in England, her every move watched and scrutinized. She couldn’t seriously expect him to allow her to continue to don breeches and ride off in the middle of the night—

  “Edward?” Augusta frowned from the doorway, her burgundy ball gown shimmering as brightly as her diamond tiara. “Are you feeling well?”

  “Fine,” he lied, forcing a smile for her. “You look stunning.”

  “Thank you.” Her lips curled bemusedly at the obvious flattery. “You look rather terrifying.”

  “Thank you.” He grimaced, saying nothing more. The last thing he wanted to do was share with his aunt the reasons for his foul mood.

  He glanced past her, and she caught his wandering gaze. “If you are hoping to catch a glimpse of Katherine—”

  “I’m not.” Another lie. Seeing her was exactly what he’d hoped.

  “She’s still dressing. I wanted a few minutes alone with you before we left.”

  “Whatever the reason for your visit, you do look lovely.” He took her hand as she swept across the room to him and squeezed it briefly. “I hope Isabel Sinclair is ready to accept you as the diamond of her ball.”

  “That pleasure will belong solely to Katherine,” she corrected, “if I have my way.”

  “You always do.”

  “Not always.” She gave him that regal look of displeasure she’d used on him since he was a boy. “I am not getting my way tonight.”

  Not bothering to stifle his irritation, he retreated a few feet to lean against his desk, folding his arms. “We’ve been through this—”

  “Lady St. James is expecting you, and Alexander Sinclair has already agreed to give Katherine the second waltz. It is quite a coup for her to have both a duke and an earl reserved for her waltz partners.” She smiled, pleased at the filling of Kate’s dance card before she even arrived at the ball and oblivious to the jealousy stabbing Edward at the thought of Kate in the arms of that rake Sinclair, earl or not. “So call for Huddleston and change so you can escort us to the ball.”

  �
��No.”

  She arched an imperious brow, not yet weary of fighting this battle, the same one she’d been fighting with him since the invitation arrived. “What excuse do I make for you, then, the guardian who cannot be bothered to introduce his ward?”

  “Well, you could remind everyone I’ve been shot.” Her eyes narrowed at his impertinence, but he unrepentantly shrugged, adding, “After all, if fighting a duel can’t get a man out of one boring ball, then truly, what good is it?”

  “You nearly died.” Her voice trembled with emotion as she scolded softly, “Do not jest about such things.”

  His shoulders sagged. Augusta deserved neither his contempt nor his cynicism, and he felt guilty unleashing them on her. Truly, she was only attempting to repair whatever damage he’d done to the Westover family reputation, however unintentionally.

  But she kept pressing, and between her constant assaults and Kate’s ever-present temptation, he was reaching the limits of his patience. And sanity.

  “My apologies,” he said, exhaling deeply. “I simply don’t feel up to venturing into society yet.”

  He rolled his shoulders, failing to ease the tension that had seeped into them during the past week—since the moment when Kate chose her medicine over him.

  “Thomas has agreed to escort you tonight,” he told her, “and he’ll do an excellent job in my stead.”

  “But he isn’t her guardian,” she reminded him. “You can leave early if you feel fatigued.”

  It wouldn’t be fatigue that plagued him if he was forced to be with Kate all night, both of them pretending they were nothing but guardian and ward. Worse, he would be expected to waltz with her, and the thought of holding her in his arms, then having to release her to another man—

  “No,” he refused firmly. He circled behind his desk, then reached for the stack of reports from his estate agents, wanting to focus his attention anywhere else than on Katherine Benton.

  After several moments when Augusta remained standing doggedly before him, not saying anything, not moving, he raised his eyes. The mix of emotions on her face pierced him, a look of maternal love, disappointment, sorrow…all for him.

  “Katherine is not Jane,” she commented quietly.

  For a beat, he froze, every muscle in his body shocked from the jolt of her words. Jane. She knew about their affair—somehow, Augusta knew!

  Dear God. She’d known all along.

  He swallowed. “Did Stephen…?”

  “No. Your brother went to his grave ignorant of what happened between you two.” She shook her head. “He never would have married her if he’d known. Your brother was always loyal to you beyond measure.”

  He looked away, unable to bring his guilty gaze to meet hers. “I was in the army, and she…”

  “She wanted to be a duchess,” she finished quietly. “You have a right to be angry at her, but she should not be allowed to continue to hurt you. She is dead, Edward.” Her voice softened. “Let her go.”

  Tenderly, she went to him and brushed his hair from his forehead. There was no exasperated anger in her elegant features now, just deep motherly concern and grief.

  “I have.” Then he pulled away from her until she couldn’t reach him.

  Her hand dropped to her side. He knew he’d hurt her, but he couldn’t help it.

  “Katherine is not Jane,” Augusta repeated, more firmly this time. “Yet you are in love with that girl just the same as you loved Jane, and it terrifies you because you are afraid she will hurt you just as much.”

  “I am not in love with her.” His words were raw and unchecked. “I won’t love any woman, not even her.”

  As if in challenge, Augusta stared unflinchingly at him. “If your heart is truly dead, then so be it—but Katherine does not deserve to be persecuted for another woman’s sins. She deserves to be happy.” Her expression saddened. “If not with you, then with someone else. Either make her yours, or let her go.”

  All the anger, torment, and humiliation of Kate’s rejection surged to the surface in a white-hot pain. “And how exactly do I do that,” he forced out through clenched teeth, “when the damned woman has refused to marry me but the guardianship is keeping us together?”

  Augusta froze. Then she blinked, incredulous. “Pardon?”

  “I asked her to marry me, and she refused,” he said quietly, but each word ripped at his heart as he admitted that Kate didn’t want him for a husband. The rejection wounded with the same force and pain as the bullet that had pierced his shoulder. “She wants to be let go, but I can’t even give her that, because under the law I’m responsible for her until she marries, which she swears never to do. And if I void the guardianship, I’ll be leaving her unprotected, which I’ve sworn never to do.” He gave a bitter laugh. “We’re damned either way.”

  His aunt stared at him incredulously, then her face softened with sympathy. “Oh, Edward, I had no idea…,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with disappointment. “I thought you two were still furious at each other.”

  He was furious at Kate, and every unbidden thought of her tore at his chest in equal amounts of futile exasperation and agony. He’d wanted her to be different from other women, thought that in her he’d finally found someone he could trust and let into his life, make his wife and the mother of his children.

  But she’d been exactly like Jane—another woman who did not love him enough to marry him. Except that this time, when he was able to offer the duchy with the ring, she’d refused precisely because she did not want to be a duchess.

  He would have laughed at the irony if his chest wasn’t burning from it.

  “But why?” Her brows furrowed in bewilderment. “That girl loves you. It is clear as day every time she so much as glances—”

  “She loves medicine more.” He blew out a harsh breath, his shoulders sagging, as he explained, “She can’t be both a duchess and a doctor. You know that.”

  “No, there must be more to it than that. Much more.” She touched his arm and firmly ordered, “You must ask her again, Edward, and this time, not let her refuse with such a false excuse.”

  He shook his head. “Augusta—”

  “Ask her again,” she urged. Then she closed the distance between them and lifted onto her tiptoes to kiss his temple. Despite himself, he obliged by lowering his head. “For me, my dear boy.”

  With a last touch to his cheek, her eyes glistening, she swept from the room.

  Blowing out a harsh breath, he poured himself a fresh glass of whiskey. Make her yours or let her go. He laughed caustically. That’s exactly what he’d been trying to do since the moment he met her.

  He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He never expected Kate to refuse to be his wife, not after the way she rode halfway across the country to nurse him back to life, not after the way she shattered in his arms. And yet…

  He frowned. Could Augusta be right? Certainly, the medicine was a part of her refusal. But she hadn’t even argued for a compromise, and if there was one thing he’d learned about Katherine Benton, it was that the frustrating woman argued over everything. Everything. She should have argued over this, too.

  But she hadn’t. She’d simply refused. And that was nothing like the hellcat he knew.

  Setting the glass down untasted, he stalked from the study and through the house, taking the stairs three at a time to reach the family bedrooms in the west wing.

  Kate’s door was open. When he paused in the doorway, finding her seated at her dressing table while her maid put the last touches on her coiffure, her eyes flickered warily at him in the mirror. He didn’t blame her for her suspicions. He wasn’t feeling particularly trustworthy himself these days.

  “Your Grace.” Mary saw him and dropped into a curtsy.

  “I need a moment alone with Miss Benton.”

  Kate lifted her chin defiantly. “Mary, please stay.”

  The young maid looked uncertainly between mistress and master, biting her bottom lip.

  Edwa
rd pinned her with a look. “Leave.”

  “Yes, sir!” Mary fled from the room, still gripping the hairbrush in her hands.

  Her eyes glaring at him in disapproval in the mirror, Kate set down the combs she’d been holding. “Edward, you cannot just order her—”

  Without moving his eyes from her reflection, he shut the door with a single push of his hand.

  She startled, nervousness flashing across her face before she replaced it with an irritated scowl. “Either open that door or call Mary back. We need a chaperone—”

  He flipped the lock.

  She hesitated just a beat, then slowly rose to her feet in indignation.

  He almost smiled at the way she reminded him of Augusta and that imperial bearing of hers, that same look of regal haughtiness…until she faced him and he caught the full impact of how she looked in her silk ball gown of Westover blue, with diamonds and sapphires shining at her neck and ears. For once, she didn’t look anything like an angel or a country gel and would-be doctor. Or even the woman who both infuriated and aroused him until he lost his mind.

  She looked like a duchess.

  She was breathtaking, and not just in that gown. He’d seen her covered with mud and stains, in old dresses that didn’t fit properly, and once even in her dressing robe. He’d seen her deliciously sleep-rumpled, too, that dawn after the storm when she awoke in his arms. However much he wanted to deny it, the attraction he felt for her went beyond just beauty. Whenever he was with her, even in the middle of an angry row, he felt alive. And for the first time, he felt as if his life truly mattered, that his existence was more than just being second to Stephen.

  He stared at her, his dark eyes not knowing where to look that didn’t cause the hairs on his arms to stand on end with desire. Sweet Lucifer. He was unprepared for the liquid fire that rippled down his spine at the sight of her, the pulse of longing in his chest to draw her into his arms. His heart thudded with a dull ache, and a heartbreaking image flashed through his mind of all he’d lost by her refusal to marry him.

  “Edward,” she said tightly, “open the door.”

  “No.”

  With a long-suffering sigh, indicating that she knew he wouldn’t give in until he had whatever it was he’d come for, she irritably folded her arms. Which was a mistake because it only drew his attention to the low-cut neckline and the tops of her breasts.