Dancing in The Duke’s Arms

by Grace Burrowes, Shana Galen, Miranda Neville, Carolyn Jewel

  He shifted onto his side. “If I had known, I would have sent the footman away and had your skirts up as far as they might go. I wish I had done. We’d have had more time.” With a hand around her waist, he turned to his back, and she stroked his torso, pressed a finger to his nipple. He said her name, more sharp breath than voice. “You’ve no idea what I’ve done to you in my dreams.”

  “I am agog. You’ve dreamed things. About me?” She grinned and offered him the access to her sex that he wanted. “What’s the wickedest of them?”

  “I had you on your hands and knees.”

  “On the floor or on the bed?”

  “A bed.”

  “That’s not so very wicked. Your bed or mine?”

  “The Archbishop of Canterbury’s.”

  “That is wicked.”

  “Another time, I interrupted you in your bath, dismissed your maid, and fucked you up against a wall.” He slid two fingers inside her. “You were wet, and slick, and you begged me, ‘Harder, Stoke, harder.’”

  “Did you oblige me?”

  “I did.”

  He urged her forward, the two of them moving with only a moment’s awkwardness when she did not immediately understand what he was after. Then she did. He leaned against the headboard of his massive bed, one hand extended to clutch the top, the other at her waist. He could see her naked body like this. See her breasts. All her faults. She levered herself up, and he set himself to her entrance and rocked his hips upward at the same time he pulled her downward, and, oh yes, she understood now. He thrust up again, eyes on their joined bodies.

  “Do you mind my freckles?”

  With a finger, he drew a line from one to the next. “I adore them. I intend to kiss every one of them.”

  He went deeper into her, and she gasped. Pleasure melted her. In this arrangement, she could see his face, his concentration on her, the flex of his muscles when he pushed into her. He pressed his palms to her stomach, then around her waist and controlled the motion for them both.

  She had another of those moments of disbelief. The far too proper Stoke Teversault had his naked cock in her, and that was not possible. Couldn’t be at all, and—God, he felt so good inside her. She felt good with him moving in her like this. The angle was more forceful, he went deeper, but she could control that.

  “Harder?” Not quite a question of her, was it? More a plea.

  “Stoke.” She fell forward, bracing her hands on the headboard where his hand had been earlier.

  His fingers tightened around her, and he tilted his head to catch her breast in his mouth, but he quickly drew away. “That’s not yes.”

  “Yes. Yes.” She couldn’t catch a decent breath. “As hard as you like.”

  They ended with her on her back again and him over her, and her breath caught in her throat, because she was going to shatter again. She would have thought she could never endure something like this, but the harder he thrust into her, the closer she came to annihilation, and when she opened her eyes and saw him there was disbelief that she was here, that Stoke Teversault was naked, moving in her. She wanted to cry at the same time that joy overcame her.

  She pressed a hand to his cheek, because she could not say the words building in her. He turned his face toward her hand and nipped at her hand. She met him at every turn, matched him until they were both mindless.

  Six days. She had but six days before he broke her heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‡

  The commotion of the arrival of the Prince Regent was beyond understanding. His retinue descended upon the house and turned the world to chaos. According to Stoke, his chef had been planning the menu for the royal visit since the day the prince agreed to visit. Dinner was an astonishing affair of one sublime dish after another, a different wine with every course. Long before the last course George was at the limit of her capacity to take another bite.

  Stoke had hired an orchestra from Nottingham, twelve players in all. The work on chalking the floors had begun the day before. From midafternoon onward, guests had begun arriving. They continued to arrive at a steady pace even now, and before long footmen were obliged to open windows and balcony doors. There were so many people that she wondered if Teversault were big enough for the crush.

  The prince made much of Kitty’s beauty, and then Lord William escorted her to the ballroom floor. Revers danced the next set with her, and Kitty was a triumph, her beautiful young sister.

  She and Stoke danced once. A waltz, but she was awkward from the strain of not betraying the intimacy of their relationship. Stoke did not help when he leaned in and murmured that he’d much rather be upstairs with her than here. What a fool she was, for the edges of her heart whispered that he was willing to have her in his bed, but not in his ballroom, and she knew he did not think any such thing.

  Stoke danced with Kitty too, and then Miss Paltree, and a young lady whose name she could not recall who constantly tossed her curls as if no man could resist her. More than once she saw the duke smiling while he led another young lady through a dance. When she and Kitty left tomorrow, her heart would stay here.

  The next waltz started, and George slipped away from the ballroom in order to shake off her melancholy. Heartbreak was hours away. That would not come until she and Kitty were in the carriage on their way back to Uplyft Hall. She took refuge in an upstairs parlor far enough away that she could scarcely hear the music. One more night. Just one, and with the party showing no signs of ending, it was possible she and Stoke would not have time to say a proper, private, good-bye.

  They would just—end. She would have this week to remember for the rest of her days. She’d been to his room every night and was in his arms whenever they found a moment alone. He was always the lover she needed, tender, vigorous, masterful.

  At the parlor window, she stared at the darkness, feeling the break already, the rending of her heart. She didn’t want to forget anything that had happened here at Teversault. Not one moment of it. She closed her eyes and summoned an image of Stoke, so handsome in his evening clothes, committing him to memory.

  She dug her handkerchief out of her pocket and pressed it to her eyes. No tears, no crying, because she’d had more love and passion than anyone deserved. She stifled them because she’d not be able to go downstairs for half an hour or longer if she succumbed. There was no possible way she could face Stoke, or anyone else, if her eyes were red from crying.

  She faced the window, hands gripping the sill, head down, overcome despite her best efforts. What a fool she was to have lost her heart so thoroughly. She reassessed her state and decided she could safely return downstairs, but the parlor door opened before she could move. Her pulse leaped, and she embraced the reaction. She would not miss an instant of these last hours together because she’d let her sorrow push her into tomorrow. They would have their private good-bye here, and she would gather all of him into her. “Is that you, Stoke?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He closed the door and crossed the room. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Here I am.” She patted her head, searching for loose pins, then stopped, struck by the fact that Stoke looked far too serious for a man alone with his lover. “What’s happened?”

  He joined her at the window. “I have news that will distress you.” He lifted a hand. “Not about your brother.”

  “What, then?” She licked her lower lip puzzled. “You look so very serious, my heart is pounding.”

  He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “There’s been a scandal. Downstairs. You’ll be needed, of course, but first—”

  “Good heavens. What?”

  He stood close to her and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. “Allow me to explain.” He gave her an assessing look. “Before you go downstairs. You’re a capable woman, you’ll know what to say to her, but best you know the facts.”

  “Very well.” She clutched his sleeve, afraid despite his assurances
.

  “William was discovered in a compromising situation.” He let out a breath. “Revers found them. If it had been anyone else, it might have been possible to keep things quiet until we understand how they feel and learn whether a hasty marriage is necessary. The prince, alas, was with Revers.”

  Poor Lord William, to have come to such grief and in so public a manner. “Revers and the Prince Regent?” How unlike him, though, to behave so badly when there was so great a chance he’d be caught out.

  “Revers, the prince, and ten of Prinny’s toadies.”

  “Oh, dear me.” Poor Stoke, to be given this to manage.

  “As it is, they came to blows, William and Revers, and that attracted a larger crowd yet.” He leaned against the wall, hands in his coat pocket. “Unfortunate words were spoken, I fear, that made matters worse.”

  George cast about for the most likely woman to have been with Lord William. Revers’s sister, Lady Alice, a lovely young woman who had arrived earlier in the afternoon. She ached for Kitty. She would be devastated by this news. Though, from what Stoke had so far told her, Kitty must already have heard. A worse thought occurred to her. “Lord Revers hasn’t challenged William, has he?”

  “No. Thank God.” He took her hand. “I managed to separate them before those words were spoken, though if he does, I would counsel William to apologize and make all possible amends to the injured parties.”

  “Of course.” With her free hand, she straightened his neckcloth.

  “To William’s credit, when I got him alone he offered no excuses for his behavior.”

  “He wouldn’t. He owns up when he’s in the wrong. You know that, Stoke.”

  “Yes.” He lifted her hand and kissed the backs of her knuckles. “Your sister is distraught. I had your maid fetched. She is with Kitty now. In the Grecian parlor. You needn’t fly to her straight away. As for my brother—” He drew a breath. “As for William, he was protective of her. As I said, I’ve spoken with him privately, and he assures me he stands ready and willing to marry her. Indeed, he was adamant about his intention to do so regardless of my feelings in the matter. Or Revers’s objections.”

  “Poor Lady Alice.” She put a hand on Stoke’s arm. “Is someone with her?”

  “Lady Alice?”

  “Someone besides Lord Revers, I mean. She’ll need a woman’s advice until her mother arrives. You were right to come fetch me. This is too awful.”

  “Your concern for Lady Alice is commendable, but—” He put his hands on her shoulders and stared at her. “George, did I not make it clear? It’s Kitty.”

  She pressed her palm to his cheek. “Of course she’s devastated, but it’s Lady Alice who must not be left without anyone to see to her.”

  “Darling.” He drew her close. “It’s your sister, Kitty. William compromised your sister.”

  She could not make proper sense of this. Could he mean some other Kitty? “My sister, Kitty Hunter?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Lord William? Are you quite sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” She clutched his arm. “Oh my. When you say compromised…?”

  “Yes. All that.”

  “My God.” Disaster. This was nothing short of disaster.

  “You understand now.”

  “Lord William and Lord Revers came to blows over Kitty? And the prince saw all this?” She sank onto the window sill. Social and political ruin was made of disasters like this. Not just for the woman but for Stoke, whose brother was involved in so public a scandal. “Oh, Stoke.”

  “William will marry her.” The finality of his words caught her up short. “There will be no discussion of the matter. I will not have either of them the subject of gossip. The prince saw them.” He closed the distance she’d put between them. “I’ll write your brother. That is my duty. But trust I will see those two wed before my letter reaches Paris.”

  “There’s nothing else to be done.” There could be no recovery from this. For the rest of her life she would have a connection with Stoke, and there would be no end to her heartache.

  “Go to your sister, then. Tell her what’s been decided.”

  “Yes. Yes, I must.”

  She found Kitty dry-eyed on one of the three sofas in the Grecian parlor, as Stoke had said. Molly curtseyed and, after a confirming nod from George, made herself scarce. “Kitty. My dearest. Are you all right?”

  “I don’t think I know.” Her eyes were wide, pupils huge. She crushed a handkerchief in both hands.

  “Stoke says you must be married.” She sat beside Kitty, uncertain what she ought to say beyond her immediate future. “He will let us know what he intends to happen when, but it will be soon. A few days, I expect.”

  “The duke says I shall be married, but what does Lord William say?” The defiance in Kitty’s voice gave her pause.

  “I’ve not spoken to him yet.” She replied firmly. “I do not see that you can refuse without scandal that will attach to you and Lord William both. This is no youthful indiscretion. What you the two of you did has consequences. Dreadful ones.”

  “I don’t care—”

  She lifted a hand. “Not just for you and Lord William, but for Stoke Teversault as well. For Hugh as well. Think what will happen to Hugh if you do not marry. Will you be the cause of our brother’s ruin too?”

  Kitty’s defiance eroded. Her mouth trembled. “Are you terribly angry?”

  George put an arm around her shoulder. “Not just now, but I think I shall be presently.”

  She burst into tears, and George held her until she was reduced to sobs. “I didn’t mean it to happen. I didn’t. But, but…” Kitty slid off the sofa onto the floor where she folded her arms on George’s lap and rested her head on her hands. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I love him, I do, I cannot stop myself from loving him.”

  “I know. Oh, Kitty, I know. You’ve been in love with him for ages.”

  “He’s never given a pin for me. I never thought he loved me at all. Not until we came here. We shouldn’t have come.” She sank into the drama, and George wanted to fall with her into that rolling ocean of emotion. “We should never have let Lord William persuade us to come here. I hate the duke. I can’t abide the way he treats you, and I don’t care to be related to him at all. I wish he weren’t Lord William’s brother.”

  She smoothed Kitty’s hair. “My poor darling.”

  Kitty dropped her head onto her arms then lifted a tear-stained face. “Let us go home, Georgina. Now. Tonight. I’ve told Molly to pack our things. We can take a wagon into Bunney. From there, we can post to Hopewell-on-Lyft. We’d be home before morning.”

  “We cannot leave without speaking to the duke.”

  “I give this for the duke.” Kitty snapped her fingers. “He’s arrogant and prideful, and I don’t know why you’d care for his good opinion. He’s never kind to you. I tell you, I do not like him. No one does, you know. I don’t care for the way he looks at you, and I don’t like that whenever you encounter him, you come away sad and unhappy. Let’s go home, Georgina. You’ll be happy again when we are home. We’ll be happy there. Just us.”

  “Ahem.”

  Kitty sat up straight and squeezed George’s hand while George looked over her shoulder toward the door. Her heart sank.

  There stood Lord William and just behind him the duke, and it was plainly, awkwardly, horribly obvious that they had both heard Kitty’s impassioned declaration.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‡

  “Forgive the interruption.” Stoke remained near the door. His future sister-in-law’s expression was mulish. She knew they’d overheard her, and she plainly stood by those painful words. George kept a protective arm around her sister’s shoulder. He bowed to her. “Mrs. Lark, perhaps you will accompany me. My brother wishes to settle matters with your sister.”

  The sisters exchanged a look.

  “I thought matters were already settled,” Miss Hunter said.

  “You may trust
that they are.” He’d not set aside his anger at William for this debacle, and that put an edge on his voice. For the better, he decided, if Miss Hunter were more circumspect as a result. “However, William has convinced me of his need to speak with you at once.” He did not spare the girl much of anything. To her credit, though she blanched, she did not dissolve into more tears. “There will be no mutiny from you, Miss Hunter.”

  He extended his arm to George, in no mood to tolerate insurrection from anyone. She hugged her sister before she went to him.

  William bowed as she neared him. “I’m sorry, George. You must believe that.”

  She paused, looked at the floor and then, at last, at William. “I haven’t much to say to you just now.”

  “I swear on my honor, I did not know I was in love with her. Not until tonight. Not until Revers was nothing but smiles and compliments and devious plots to win her affections.”

  Stoke took George’s hand. “You and Mrs. Lark may settle your differences another time. For now, my advice is that you attempt to repair matters with my future sister.” Miss Hunter let out a sob edged with terror. George would have returned to her had he not drawn her to him. “As you can see, William, you may have to convince her that a relation to me is not a fate worse than death. Come, George.”

  William’s attention shot to him, though he could not fathom why until William looked at George and then at their clasped hands. He realized his mistake, then. He’d called her George, not Mrs. Lark. George realized it as well, and she sidled away. Or would have if he’d permitted it.

  “You two may quarrel or not just as you like,” he said as if he’d not blundered. He looked in turn at William and Miss Hunter. “Nothing you say to each other changes the future. I assure you of that.”

  When he and George exited the parlor, he left the door ajar. Let William think what he would. His worst imaginings would be correct. They did not speak until he’d led her to the nearest room where they might be private. His official office, it happened. This door he closed and locked. A servant had been in to draw the drapes, so he lit an additional lamp before he leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his chest. George had stopped in the center of the room.