The Duke of Kisses

by Darcy Burke

  Cheers filled the park, and Sarah squealed. “I won! I mean, Lucy won!”

  There were more hugs, and this time they all hurried to the finish line where the Earl of Dartford swept his wife from the phaeton and lifted her in a circle. “To the Duchess of Daring!”

  Lucy laughed as he set her back to earth.

  “Well done, ladies!” Felix’s voice boomed through the horn. “We’ve just drawn the names for the men’s races, and I’ve an announcement. To make things interesting, the men will take a passenger—a lady. If a lady would like to ride, she may offer a favor to the gentleman of her choice.”

  “This really is like a jousting tournament,” Sarah said wryly.

  Lavinia frowned. “We were not offered that enhancement.” She strode toward Felix.

  Beck chuckled. “Oh, he’s poked the wrong bear.” He stalked after her.

  Fanny picked David out near the starting area. Should she offer him a favor? It seemed a public declaration of…something. And what was wrong with that?

  Sarah moved closer to stand next to her. “You should do it.”

  Fanny turned her head. “Do what?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Offer him a favor. He’ll accept it, of course.”

  Of course. “Will he?”

  “Why do you doubt him? From everything you’ve said, it seems your relationship is progressing toward a natural, marital end.”

  Fanny supposed so, but she took nothing for granted. Not after what had happened to Ivy.

  Sarah looped her arm through Fanny’s. “Come on, then.”

  They walked toward the start, passing Lavinia, who was chastising Felix for not having the men offer favors to the ladies.

  “I promise we’ll do it next week. I hadn’t thought of it yet.” Felix held up his hands in surrender, and Beck laughed.

  Anthony was nearby and also laughed. He looked at his sister. “Who are you offering a favor to, Sarah?”

  “No one. And don’t taunt me about it,” she said sternly.

  He blinked at her in mock innocence. “I would never dream of that.”

  “I’m sure you already have.” Sarah sped up her pace, and Fanny rushed to keep up.

  Several women had come to the starting area and were approaching the gentlemen, many of whom were married, and so it was just their wives making the offer.

  Fanny took her arm from Sarah. “What should I give him?”

  Sarah appraised her from head to toe, chewing her lip in thought. “A flower from your hat.” She reached up and plucked a silk flower from the band of Fanny’s bonnet. “Here.”

  A mix of anticipation and anxiety skittered along Fanny’s nerves as she took the flower. She turned and found David, who stood alone. Gathering her courage, she strode toward him with purpose as she thought of what to say.

  Arabella Stoke intercepted Fanny just before she reached David. “Good afternoon, Miss Snowden.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Stoke.” Fanny slowed her pace to be polite, but she was also afraid someone would beat her to David’s side.

  “I’m on my way to offer a favor,” Miss Stoke said brightly. “That’s my earl.”

  The direction of her nod could not be disputed. Fanny stopped cold and turned her head toward the other woman. “St. Ives?”

  Miss Stoke nodded.

  She was going to marry David?

  Fanny felt as though the ground beneath her was shaking and about to open up and swallow her in one piece. And for a moment, she wished it would. Then she looked at David and decided it should devour him instead.

  “Are you going to offer one?” Miss Stoke asked, starting toward David once more.

  Fanny fell in beside her, quickening her pace. “In fact, I am.”

  They arrived in front of him together, but it was Fanny who spoke first. She extended her hand, with the now-crumpled silk flower—she’d apparently crushed it in anger—toward him. “I’d like to offer you a favor, my lord, and so would Miss Stoke.”

  His eyes widened briefly, and his gaze moved from her to Miss Stoke.

  Fanny dropped the flower into his palm, careful not to touch him and stepped aside.

  Miss Stoke gave him a rose-colored ribbon, clearly taken from the sleeve of her gown. “Here is my favor.”

  Holding a favor in each hand, David looked between them, and Fanny nearly laughed at the conundrum clearly pronounced in his features. She would have felt sorry for him if she wasn’t so angry.

  Forcing a smile, she batted her eyelashes at him and asked, “Whom do you choose?”

  Chapter 7

  Hell and the devil.

  David couldn’t seem to form words. Fanny’s blue-green eyes sparked with indignation, which meant she had to know about Miss Stoke. But how could she? Unless Miss Stoke had said something? But what could that have been?

  Miss Stoke, on the other hand, looked…confused. She wore a half frown as she glanced toward Fanny, then returned her attention to David.

  “Well, my lord?” she prompted softly.

  He had to make a decision. He wanted Fanny—of course. There was no decision to be made. Yet, his father’s voice echoed in his brain, “Promise me, David. It would mean everything to me…”

  That hadn’t been a decision either. David had made the promise, willing to say or do anything to give his father comfort. Or keep him from dying. It was absurd to think that making a promise would save his life, but it was the only power he’d had in that moment when he’d felt utterly helpless.

  He was saved by the arrival of Ware, who looked at the two favors in his hands. “Looks as though you need help.”

  David blinked at him, wondering what that could be but eager for it just the same. “I do, indeed.”

  “Another gentleman also had two favors. He chose a number between one and ten and whispered it in my ear. The women chose numbers, and the one closest to what he’d picked will be his passenger. Does that sound acceptable?” He looked from David to Fanny and Miss Stoke.

  “It’s acceptable to me,” Fanny said, her voice smoldering. Oh yes, she had to know.

  Miss Stoke nodded primly. “It is to me as well.”

  David tensed, hoping it would turn out the way he hoped…

  Ware leaned his ear toward David. Right, he had to choose a number. David didn’t even think before whispering next to Ware’s head.

  With a nod, Ware straightened. “Who extended their favor first?”

  “I did,” Fanny said.

  “Then I shall allow Miss Stoke to choose first.” Ware turned his head to her. “What number do you choose?”

  “Five.”

  The tension in David tightened as he awaited Fanny’s guess. Ware pivoted to her. “Miss Snowden?”

  She didn’t hesitate nor did she look at David. “Three.” Her tone was bold and confident.

  Because she was right.

  “Brilliant!” Ware exclaimed. “You guessed it exactly.” He turned a sympathetic eye to Miss Stoke. “My apologies, Miss Stoke. There’s always next week! Provided St. Ives wins.” He chuckled before taking himself off.

  David handed the ribbon back to Miss Stoke. “I’m sorry too.”

  “It’s all right,” she said brightly. “I’ll still cheer for you.” She turned to look at Fanny. “Enjoy the race, Miss Snowden.”

  Fanny reached out and touched the other woman’s hand. “I shall, and next week, it will be your turn. I only offered the favor because I wanted to race. I should have approached another gentleman.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Miss Stoke said. “I was a bit nervous to ride in the high-perch phaeton. This gives me time to work up my courage.” She gave Fanny’s hand a squeeze. “You must tell me all about it afterward.”

  “I’ll do that.” Fanny slid an accusatory glance toward David, and he suddenly wondered if he’d hoped for the right woman to ride with him. Fanny was going to give him an earful.

  Which he deserved.

  Miss Stoke wished him luck, then turned and
went back to where most of the spectators were congregated, including her mother. David hated disappointing the young woman.

  He plucked Fanny’s flower from the palm of his hand and looked into her eyes. “Thank you for the favor. Allow me to escort you to my phaeton.” He held out his arm.

  She stared at it a moment, then lightly placed her hand on him, barely touching his sleeve as if it were made of something very toxic. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

  David suffered a shaft of sheer panic. What had Miss Stoke told her? “For what?”

  “Miss Stoke told me you are to be married.”

  The hell she had. “We are not engaged.”

  “Perhaps not formally, but she told me it was forthcoming.”

  The racers were moving toward their vehicles, and since they were the second race, he started steering her to his phaeton. “She told you this just now?”

  “Actually, she came to my meeting the other day about—” She shook her head. “Never mind what it was about. She came to my meeting, where I met her for the first time. She said she was going to become engaged to an earl. Then today she told me that earl is you.” She fixed him with an irritated glower.

  Hell and the devil.

  He couldn’t seem to stop thinking that. The curse was a litany in his head.

  They’d reached the phaeton, and he pulled down the step and helped propel her up inside. He followed her and retracted the step before sitting beside her on the cushion.

  David picked up the reins, allowing plenty of slack since they wouldn’t be going anywhere yet. The first racers were just positioning themselves at the start. A hollow sensation in his chest seemed to expand inside him. “She expects I will marry her. I promised my father as much when he was dying.” He heard the breath Fanny sucked in beside him and turned his head slightly. She looked up at him with a deep furrow in her brow. “He and her father were the best of friends and sought to unite our families. My father was so ill. I would have said anything.” He had said anything.

  “You’re going to honor this promise,” she said quietly

  He couldn’t tell if it was a question or not. “I’m not sure. I was… Until I met you.” He shook his head. “That’s not quite right. I planned to honor it even after I met you at Christmastide. But that’s because I never thought to see you again. Then when I encountered you in London…” He smiled. “It seemed Fate wanted to give us a chance.”

  “You could also argue that Fate wants to give you and Miss Stoke a chance.” Her tone had softened a bit, but she was still rigid beside him.

  “Yes, you could. And therein lies my dilemma. I want to be with you, and yet I feel I owe it to my father to see if Miss Stoke and I would suit.”

  Fanny clasped her hands in her lap and looked down at them. “Do we even know if you and I would suit?”

  The first race started, and cheers filled the air. But David was immune to the excitement. He was entirely focused on the woman beside him. “You guessed three.”

  She turned her head. “That’s the number of times we’ve kissed.”

  “Exactly right,” he whispered.

  “You think because of that, we suit?”

  He clutched the reins more securely and gave the horses the signal to move forward. “I think because of that, we share something. Don’t you?”

  She exhaled. “I did. I do.” She pursed her lips and clenched her hands more tightly together. “But what of the promise you made to your father? If you don’t give Miss Stoke a chance, you risk harboring a regret that could tear you up inside.” She understood him so perfectly.

  “How do you know me so well?”

  “I don’t. Not really. I just know that’s how I would feel.” She unclasped her hands and laid them flat atop her lap. “You didn’t promise me anything.”

  No, he hadn’t. Nevertheless, he felt as if he’d let her down. He drove the horses to the starting line and brought them to a stop just as the other racers finished.

  “Oh goodness, we’re next,” she said, sounding nervous. She clutched the side of the phaeton with her left hand. “I won’t fall out, will I?”

  “Not unless you leap from the vehicle.”

  She whipped her head around in alarm. “Why would I do that?”

  He chuckled. “You wouldn’t. That’s the point.” He briefly touched the hand that remained in her lap. “I’ll make you this promise: you won’t fall.”

  Her eyes narrowed skeptically. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You know how clumsy I am.”

  “If you fall out, the blame will be entirely mine.”

  “As much as I’d like to blame you for something, I will hope that I remain firmly in this seat.”

  He stared into her upturned face. “Trust me, Fanny,” he said softly. “I would never let anything happen to you.”

  Her eyes lost every bit of their spark. “You are not in a position to say such things.”

  The bell sounded.

  She elbowed him in the arm. “Go!”

  Christ, he’d been so wrapped up in her that he’d paid no attention, and now he was starting late.

  Hell and the devil.

  Bracing his feet, he picked up the whip and plied the reins, hoping the horses would perform as well as they had yesterday during his practice. With new horseflesh, it was hard to know what to expect.

  His opponent was also in a high-perch phaeton, but if the start was any indication, his horses didn’t look as fast as David’s. They approached the first turn. David concentrated on making his arc without losing much speed. “Hold on.”

  He didn’t spare the slightest glance for Fanny as he completed the turn just behind the other racer. David’s focus was entirely on driving the horses toward the second and final turn. He wouldn’t have time to overtake the other phaeton before the turn, but if he came through it tight and fast, he could make the pass.

  They rounded the bend marked by a small tree, and he felt the phaeton lift just slightly. It was nothing to him, but he heard Fanny swear under her breath.

  Grinning, he still didn’t chance a look in her direction. The spring air rushed over him as excitement pulsed in his blood. He worked the reins hard, pushing the horses to overtake the other phaeton. They were so close, but so was the finish. He applied the whip, and the team soared past the other racer and hit the line first.

  Exhilaration washed over him as he lifted his whip hand in victory. Laughing, he turned to look at Fanny. She looked a bit…green.

  His joy faded. “Fanny, are you all right?”

  “I think I may be sick.”

  David dropped the whip and jumped down as quickly as he could. He hadn’t even bothered with the step but now pulled it down and helped her to descend. Her foot caught, and she fell forward.

  Scrambling to clasp her to him, David lost his balance and went sprawling backward. She landed on top of him, knocking the air from his chest. She pushed at him, but he didn’t want to let her go before making sure she was all right.

  However, she was insistent, renewing her efforts to push away from him. “David, if you don’t let me go, I’m going to cast up my accounts all over you.”

  “Ware, a hand, please!” He called out to the nearest person he knew.

  Ware dashed over and helped Fanny up just as she heaved. A few people gasped as everyone nearby turned to gape at her bent form.

  Miss Colton rushed to her side and spoke softly to her.

  Fanny held up her hand and a moment later straightened, then smiled widely as if she were the one who’d just won the race. And she may very well have been given the cheers she received.

  She laughed and pressed her hands to her cheeks. “That was a little faster than I’d anticipated!”

  David went to her and bowed. “My apologies. I do hope you don’t suffer any ill effects.”

  “From the race? No, I don’t think I shall.” Her meaning was clear—any ill effects she suffered would be because of him.

  He ha
ted this. He wanted to reassure her. But of what? “I hope to see you tonight at Almack’s so you can obliterate my feet into the floor.”

  She delivered him a saucy stare. “I do not have a voucher to Almack’s, but perhaps Miss Stoke does. Good-bye, my lord.”

  “Not good-bye,” he said softly but with great urgency.

  She said nothing before she turned and walked away with Miss Colton.

  “Well done,” Ware said. “You’re in for next week.” Then he took himself back to the platform, where he apologized for the delay.

  Next week. When he wouldn’t have Fanny as his passenger. Hell, he might never have Fanny next to him ever again.

  That was a possibility he didn’t want to consider. And yet he had no other choice.

  Hell and the devil.

  “I don’t know,” Fanny said, surveying the large main room of the former warehouse. “Do you think this is too dreary?”

  There were few windows and the light that made its way in was feeble and woefully inadequate. It would be expensive to keep illuminated, particularly in the winter months.

  West stood in the corner, staring up at the ceiling. “Perhaps. A fresh coat of paint would go a long way, but the cost of candles would still be great,” he said, echoing her thoughts. Then he frowned. “However, my primary concern is the water coming in here.” He removed his glove and poked at the wood as Fanny made her way to the corner.

  “Is it bad?” There were streaks down the plaster, discoloring the wall. “As you said, paint would improve it.”

  He flaked some of the paint and plaster off. “It’s more than cosmetic. We’d have to repair this, and I’d wager the wood beneath is rotten.”

  Fanny exhaled. It was only the second potential property they’d visited today, and there would be others. The first had been too small, and this one was just too…depressing. Or did she think that because she was still upset about what had happened at the park the day before?

  She’d told Sarah and later Ivy what had occurred with David and Miss Stoke. Then she’d endured an evening, which she’d spent at home with Ivy, imagining them dancing at Almack’s. Miss Stoke would be graceful and elegant, and people would remark on what a marvelous couple they made.