The Duke of Dark Desires

by Miranda Neville

  Five minutes later the library door opened. He’d be getting answers, very soon.

  “You asked for me, Your Grace?”

  They hadn’t met for three days and she looked pleased to see him. His own spirits took an involuntary leap. Her cheeks were pink from walking outside in cool spring weather, her eyes bright and untroubled, her smile as provocative as ever.

  “Sit down, Miss Grey.” No more Jane. He pointed at the chair next to his desk and remained standing for an intimidating effect. “May I inquire where you have been all day?”

  “I had a matter of business I needed to attend to.”

  “And what was so urgent that you abandoned your duties without permission?”

  Her eyes widened at his harsh tone, obviously surprised at being spoken to thus by an employer who had made it clear he wished to share her bed and didn’t much care what else she did. “You were absent, as was Mr. Blackett or I would have asked him. I left the girls with work to complete while I was gone.”

  “Where were you?”

  For the first time she evaded his gaze. “It is my private affair.”

  “I see. And is it your private affair to let one of your pupils go wandering around London and running into danger?”

  “Good God! What happened?” A hand went to her mouth. “Was it Fenella? Is she all right?”

  “Fenella is unharmed, no thanks to her governess. I discovered her being assaulted, perhaps abducted, outside the Royal Stables.”

  “Poor child, she must be terrified. I must go to her.”

  “Sit down! My sister is in the nursery being punished for her disobedience. Let’s talk about your part in this.”

  “I am so dreadfully sorry. If I had any idea Fenella would pull such a trick I wouldn’t have gone out. Tell me what happened. Oh heavens! Abducted? Who would do such a thing?”

  If she wasn’t genuinely distressed, she was an actress worthy of comparison with the great Mrs. Siddons. Having enough respect for Jane Grey’s talents to believe her capable of anything, Julian hardened his resolve. “What do you have to say about the attack on my sister?”

  “I? I knew nothing until a minute ago.”

  “I’m not condoning Fenella’s behavior,” he said, watching her carefully. “She was wrong to have gone to the stables on her own. But you broke your promise to take her, so what was a girl of spirit to do? Did you deliberately provoke her?”

  Her brow creased, then lightened to an expression of sweet exasperation with an undercurrent of amusement. Despite himself, Julian found her captivating. “The little devil! I’d laugh if what happened wasn’t so grave. I suppose she didn’t mention to you that during breakfast, before I was called away, I canceled the outing because she slapped Maria? The girls were quarreling, but Fenella went too far.” She shook her head. “I love your sisters dearly, Your Grace, and I have a special fondness for Fenella, but there’s no question she’s a handful.” Minute examination of her face and voice didn’t reveal an iota of deception. Her feelings were clear as a bell. “I wish you wouldn’t tower over me like that. Once again I apologize for my absence and it won’t happen again, but I don’t understand why you thought I had anything to do with an attack on Fenella.”

  “Never mind.” Julian had no intention of enlightening her about his frustrated suspicions. “Who is the man you were speaking to in the square, just now?” He spoke dispassionately, as though it wasn’t important.

  “I don’t think I should tell you.”

  “Oh, I think you should.”

  “I told Maria I wouldn’t.”

  “Maria?”

  “Very well. You have a right to know. Mr. Norville, that’s his name, met Maria in the park before I was employed here. I discovered they had been meeting and told him that if he wished to see her he must ask my permission, or yours.” Her lips twitched. “I take it he never plucked up the courage.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “I am not surprised. He’s the most dismal young man. Maria seems to have recovered from her infatuation and I think the only reason she ever considered him was out of ennui. The dressmaker and the theater have put poor Mr. Norville quite out of her mind. I hope I have persuaded him to stop haunting Hanover Square and find a different quarry.”

  “Quarry, eh? Do I take it that Mr. Norville’s motives are not of the purest?”

  “Maria is a very lovely girl, of course, but I believe the young man found her loveliness enhanced by being sister to a duke. When I told him in no uncertain terms that he could either meet the duke, or go away, he chose the latter course. He seemed frightened at the very idea of you.”

  “Must be my reputation for eating small children and presumptuous men for dinner.”

  Her gentle laugh made something go soft inside him. He moved closer so he was standing right in front of her chair, his legs brushing against her skirts. When she tilted her head, he thought he detected affection; then she took his hand in her cool smooth one and squeezed it.

  “I know you don’t eat children. On the contrary, I believe you love them, though I’m sure you won’t own it. As for presumptuous men, I shall ask Fenella for the details of your heroic rescue.”

  “In this case no heroics were needed. But don’t deceive yourself, Jane.” She was Jane again. “I am no hero, nor ever have been.”

  A hero would have made sure that the Marquis de Falleron and his family were safe before making off with a priceless collection of paintings. A hero would not have said, “I promise. I swear on my honor,” when he suspected the entire enterprise was fraught with peril with good odds of failure.

  “You are a hero to your sisters.” Her eyes were bright with admiration. And to me too, he fancied she was saying. If only she knew the truth about him.

  Simply holding hands with Jane Grey was among the great erotic experiences of his life. But it was more than that. There was a strange lightness about his heart that felt like joy. He lowered his long body to a crouch so that their heads were on a level. Her eyes were liquid brown, her complexion pink and white and flawless, her just-parted lips a scalding temptation. Why had he ever thought she wasn’t a beauty? Turning her hand in both of his, he kissed the soft palm. Time hung in the balance.

  “I must go.” She stood abruptly, almost toppling him over. “I must make sure Fenella is well and the other girls aren’t worried. I’ll reassure them you won’t let anybody harm them.”

  Julian already missed her touch but he found it encouraging that she was so flustered. “Bread and milk for Fenella’s supper!” he called after her.

  She turned and sent him that bed-me smile. “You are much too kind, Your Grace. Bread and water, I think,” she said, and glided out of the room.

  Julian wasn’t used to uncertainty. He always knew what to think, be it the authenticity of a Leonardo, the beauty of a courtesan, or an opinion of friend, foe, or relation. No one in his life had sent his brain spinning the way Jane did.

  Was she an adventuress involved in a complicated plot against him, or was she innocent of all wrongdoing? His heart told him the latter. Yes, she had lied. Yes, she had secrets. Since he had secrets of his own he didn’t hold that against her. With only himself to consider, he’d take the risk and declare her not guilty.

  But he had to think of his responsibilities. He was about to leave on a journey of some weeks that would take him into considerable danger. Could he leave his sisters in the care of a woman he didn’t trust? But if she was trustworthy there was no one to whom he’d sooner entrust them. Instinct told him she told the truth when she had claimed to love them. Why couldn’t he credit his instincts as he had always done in the past?

  He recalled the one time he had gone against the message of his gut: when he’d entered into the scheme that led to the death of the entire Falleron family. The memory made up his mind. He would trust Jane Grey, but he wouldn’t leave his family unprotected in case his instinct was wrong. Added to his list of things to do in preparation for his departure was hir
ing a couple of bodyguards to live at Fortescue House and keep the Misses Osbourne in sight. While he was about it he’d have Miss Jane Grey investigated.

  Chapter 11

  The day before the duke’s departure, he came up to the nursery to say good-bye to the Osbourne girls. Jane was neither surprised nor displeased to be summoned to the library after dinner. She expected Denford to try again to seduce her before leaving for a journey of some weeks. What thrilled and frightened her was how much she wished to be seduced. She wanted him and she might very well never see him again.

  They settled in their usual places by the fire, glasses in hand. Mon Dieu, she was going to miss this. Miss him.

  He seemed to be in a serious mood tonight. Much as she enjoyed his careless mockery, she found him even more attractive when he was contemplative. His beautiful blue eyes, ever startling beneath black brows and fringed with long black eyelashes, regarded her steadily, as though searching for something. Suddenly she hated that everything about her life was a lie.

  He set down his drink and caressed the silver knob of his cane. “As you know,” he began finally, “I’ll be away for several weeks, I am not sure exactly how long. Blackett has instructions about any emergencies that may arise, but I will rely on you to look after my sisters until I return.”

  “I am their governess,” she said, a little uneasily.

  “I want you to know how much I admire what you have done for them. You are far more than a teacher.”

  “I am very fond of them.”

  “I won’t say that you are like a mother because you are too young. But an older sister, perhaps.”

  It was how she regarded them, a bittersweet feeling, but not one she would have missed.

  Denford began pacing about the room, swinging his ebony cane.

  “It’s a weight off my mind to know that you are here,” he said, coming to rest in front of her chair. “If anything happens to me. I want to know that they are in good hands until their mother returns. I have made legal and financial provision for their guardianship, but they need a woman. They need you.”

  “Surely nothing will happen to you.”

  “Given the poor luck of male Fortescues, I’d be foolish to assume that.”

  Ironic that he raised the subject of Fortescue men and their mortality. The day of Fenella’s incident at the Royal Stables, she had been in the City hearing from Mr. Russell that Charles Fortescue had lately returned to England. Russell had several promising leads as to his whereabouts and expected early success in locating their quarry, if Jane would cover certain expenses. She had dispersed the required sums, reducing her funds to a perilously low level. At any time she might be called upon to abandon her charges and set off for some unknown destination to murder their brother’s heir.

  “Since you possess the devil’s luck,” she said, “I expect you’ll continue to avoid suffering the family misfortune.”

  “Let me be serious. I don’t believe in an ill-defined Fortescue curse, but my journey is a dangerous one. I must cross the sea to Belgium to conclude an affair from long ago. France may have made peace with Great Britain, but their subjects in Belgium have been in revolt for years. There are also certain parties who seem interested in stopping me from retrieving my property. I have enemies.”

  Her eyes grew round. “Fenella! Do you think the attack on her was aimed at you? I couldn’t understand why you thought she was being abducted, not merely robbed.”

  “You’re very clever, Jane. I don’t know for certain that was what happened, but I have reason to believe it possible.” He looked at her with pure steel in his eyes that promised ill for anyone who crossed him. “There is no advantage to be gained from my enemies troubling my sisters while I am gone,” he said deliberately. “I have gone to fetch the items they want, so they had much better come after me.”

  She had no idea why he was speaking to her thus, as though delivering a message. “Who are these enemies of yours?”

  “I’m not certain, though I have an idea. I do know that they are without conscience about using what they perceive to be people I care about against me. I trust they realize there is nothing more to be gained from that ploy, so I will not be astonished if they pursue me abroad.”

  “Please be careful.”

  He shrugged his black shoulders and smiled his twisted smile. “Chances are I will continue to plague the world.” He leaned down and tilted up her chin with one long finger. “If I don’t return, will you be sorry?”

  “Of course I will.” She lowered her eyelids, afraid to reveal how much. “You must come back, for your sisters’ sake,” she said briskly. “After you took tea with them this afternoon they could talk of nothing else but how much they will miss you, and how they look forward to the summer at Denford Castle. Admit it, Your Grace. You are fond of them, whatever you may have said to me when I first arrived.”

  “If I have learned to tolerate my sisters it is because you improved them.” He stopped, considering his remark. “No, that’s not entirely true. You’ve made Maria less irritatingly pious and Fenella less defiant, but I see for myself that we have benefited equally from my mother’s good qualities and suffered from her neglect.”

  “There is nothing more important than having a family.”

  “So you have told me before. You may be bringing me around to your way of thinking, or perhaps the prospect of parting has made me maudlin. I should be sorry to lose that exceedingly annoying smile with which Fenella drives her sisters to the brink of madness. I suppose you taught her that.”

  She smiled mysteriously. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Damn it, Jane Grey. I shall miss you.”

  I’ll miss you too.

  “Will you kiss me good-bye?”

  It might be forever. She was tempted to promise to remain until he returned, even if word came of Charles Fortescue’s whereabouts. After she had concluded her revenge she had plans to escape, to disappear and live under a new identity far away from England or France. But it was entirely possible she would be caught and hanged. If so, it was better for Denford and his sisters if she wasn’t living under his roof when she murdered his cousin and heir.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  Taking his hand she rose to her feet. “I think a kiss at parting is proper,” she said, and walked into his arms.

  This time there was no feigned reluctance on her part, no teasing game on his, nothing except pure mutual desire. She clung to him, encircling his waist and pulling him fiercely against her yearning body. She wanted his hands on her bare flesh, not protected by the layers of cloth on her back. As their mouths joined she closed her eyes and let herself believe that no one in the world existed except Denford and her and there lay a lifetime of kisses before them. She wished she really was a governess, and nothing else.

  She’d made a life for herself as Jane Grey and had sometimes been tempted to forget that she had ever been Jeanne de Falleron, never more than now. But guilt pricked her conscience and the dead chided her for indifference. If she did not avenge her family, no one would.

  She permitted herself a few minutes of happiness as he deepened the kiss, gathering her in, silently exhorting her to surrender. Perhaps she should. What was she waiting for? The reality that they would soon part forever invoked a convulsive sob.

  Immediately he withdrew, relaxing his embrace and looking at her with concern. “Don’t cry, Jane.” His thumb wiped a tear from her cheek. “Over the years I’ve proved quite hard to kill. I’ll come back to you.”

  She backed out of his arms and turned away. “I should go.”

  “Sit with me awhile.”

  And because she was weak, she let him guide her to the divan and serve her another glass of brandy. She perched on the edge with the poker-backed posture her mother had insisted on since she was old enough to sit up. He lounged beside her, a great black cat sprawled with effortless grace against gold brocade.

  “There is no point
trying to look prim. It doesn’t suit you.”

  She might look prim but she didn’t feel it. Her face reflected the iron control she exercised over her emotions and her discretion, lest she pour out the truth and then hurl herself into his arms, begging him to take her. Never seeing Denford again was well nigh unbearable.

  “Let’s talk about you,” he said. “How did you become Jane Grey?”

  Had he somehow penetrated her disguise? Of course not. He spoke figuratively and he was smiling at her with lazy affection and not an ounce of suspicion. Over the weeks at Fortescue House she had learned a good deal about Denford, perhaps more than he revealed to most people. In this final meeting, Jane wished she could talk about herself.

  “I’ll tell you a story,” she said.

  “About you?”

  “No. It’s about a young woman and a war.”

  A friend of Henri’s had recounted the tale at dinner one night and it had affected her deeply. She couldn’t describe her own life but she could give him tantalizing hints about part of it.

  “This woman, let us call her the contessa, was living on her estate when the enemy arrived. She fled the château to hide in the farm buildings, but some of the soldiers pursued her. She knew what would happen for she had seen what they did to the other women of her household. Alas, she tripped on her gown and was surrounded by the brutes. She had resigned herself to her fate when the army of her own country arrived. An officer swooped down like a great eagle with a sword, killed one of her attackers, and drove off the others. Her savior swept her into his arms and in her terror and relief she fainted.”

  Jane stopped to sip her brandy. It was hard to speak of the next bit because, although it wasn’t what happened to her, it brought back the memory she preferred never to think about. She had been awake when Mathieu took her to his bed the first time.

  “When she regained consciousness she was lying on the straw in the barn. The battle had moved on and all was quiet. Shortly afterward the officer called at the château and asked the contessa to marry him. Even though she was filled with gratitude and he was eligible, a baron with a good estate, she asked for a chance to get to know him before she accepted. But he was importunate, pressing for an early marriage before he was recalled to his military duties. Despite his pleas, she refused to agree to an engagement. After he left she found herself with child.”