The Duke's Untamed Desire

by Amy Jarecki

  He removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. Though he should have expected her reluctance, hearing her declare last night was wrong crushed him. “Then why this complete change of direction?”

  “As adults,” she explained, drumming the book with her fingers, “we must look at this situation pragmatically. You and I are utterly incompatible.”

  Repositioning his hat, he sat straighter. After she’d entered his bedchamber, nothing would have convinced him more of their compatibility. “Please explain.”

  “First of all, I enjoy living a quiet life in Thetford where I mind my own affairs. And you...” She formed a bursting arc with her arms, indicating she believed him ill-suited for her domestic ideals. “You live in London—”

  “Only during the Season when parliament is in session, of course.”

  “True, but you are constantly in the public eye. You’re a duke, and a quite interesting one at that. Every time you’re discovered with so much as a hair out of place it is reported in the papers.”

  “Perhaps not every time.” At least he’d managed to keep the home for unwed mothers a secret.

  “And my dowry is gone.”

  Money? Georgiana couldn’t begin to employ such an argument. “I care not in the slightest about your dowry.”

  She waved his comment off. “And women lust after you. It is quite obvious.”

  Fletcher glanced from side to side. “Where are all these women?”

  “Oh, please, The Scarlet Petticoat reports them often enough. How can someone like me possibly compete with such a following?”

  “And you’d believe the scratchings from some old crone cloistered away in a London attic, writing every imaginable bit of drivel? Since we’ve met, how often have you seen me with another woman on my arm?” Those words even stunned Fletcher. Good God, since he’d first seen Georgiana at Almacks, he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman. Until last night, he’d behaved like a goddamned monk. What the devil had happened to him?

  “The crux of the matter is we are simply not suitable—”

  Pulling her into his arms, he clamped his mouth over hers and showed her exactly how bloody compatible they were. He wasn’t about to back away without a fight. She’d vexed him, she’d transfixed and bewitched him to such an extent, his goddamned heart was about to hammer out of his chest.

  “Fletcher,” Georgiana said, breathless, as she pulled away and wiped her lips. “It is broad daylight.”

  “And we’re hidden in the midst of the overgrown garden. Who will see us?”

  “But it isn’t proper.”

  “And last night was?”

  “I-I was reckless and—”

  Before she said another word, he took her mouth again, kissing her until she grew limp in his arms, her sighs rumbling through him. With each swirl of his tongue, his determination grew. Her kisses were like ambrosia to his soul. His hands slid up and down her spine, caressing her, showing her how precious she’d become to him.

  “See?” Inhaling deeply, he tapped his forehead to hers. “We are not as incompatible as you think. Why must we worry about what tomorrow may bring, Georgiana? For once in your life, stop thinking and let it be.”

  Her eyes flashed wide as she raised her head. “What did you say?”

  “Why not enjoy the week?” He shifted his fingers to her silken cheek. “What harm is there in letting down one’s guard?”

  “Do you mean to suggest we choose not to think about the future?”

  God, yes! “Absolutely. Why not enjoy this respite one day at a time?”

  “And you agree whatever happens whilst we are at Hardwick Hall will remain a secret forever?”

  “I do like how your mind works, Your Ladyship.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come now. We have some exploring to do, you and I.”

  She pointed as she stumbled after him. “The house is that way.”

  “Very well, but I’m not heading for the house.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  GEORGIANA FOLLOWED Fletcher through the wood, the two Gordon Setters walking at heel without leads. When they were children, she and her brother had used the path to walk to Twickenham, but it surprised her that the duke might know where it led. “You realize we are headed to town, do you not?”

  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’d assumed as much.”

  How a man managed to be entirely desirous with a look, she couldn’t fathom. After all, his skill in the art of seduction had never been in question. Just being within ten feet of the man made gooseflesh rise across her skin. “Have you ever taken this path before?”

  “No.”

  And his response had been so cocksure. Oh, to be so self-confident. “Then how do you possibly know where it leads?”

  “My lady, if a man doesn’t develop a sense of direction by the time he reaches his majority, he very well might spend the rest of his days wandering in circles.”

  Of course he provided a nonsensical answer. Daniel wouldn’t have set off walking without first asking if his assumption that the path led to town was correct. Paths never traversed the ground in a straight line.

  She twirled her bonnet ribbon around her finger. Stop it, Georgiana. I vowed to cease comparing Evesham to Daniel, and I’ll not tolerate my continuing to do so.

  “Are you averse to going to town?” Fletcher slowed his pace. “Would you rather return to the manse?”

  “Heavens no. Forgive me. I was telling myself to forget an old memory.” She unraveled her finger and plucked a leaf from a sycamore. “But I am curious as to what you hope to find in Twickenham.”

  His eyes narrowed as if he harbored a secret he wasn’t about to divulge. “Perhaps there is no other reason aside from venturing out on an adventure.”

  Chuckling, she tossed the leaf into the air and watched as it twirled to the ground. “But nothing exciting ever happens here. Believe me, I know.”

  “Surely there’s an annual parade or two.”

  The path opened to a paddock with the village right below. “I’ll give you that. There’s the annual Saint George’s Day parade.”

  When they reached the road, Fletcher attached the leads to the dogs’ collars.

  Georgiana ran her hand down Molly’s coat. “It doesn’t seem as if they need to be restrained.”

  “They don’t, but I use the leads as a precaution.” He offered his elbow and inclined his head toward town. “What is your favorite shop in Twickenham?”

  “One can always find something of interest at the haberdashery. We also have a skilled jeweler in town. Some of his pieces are sold at Rundle and Bridge in London.”

  “I am duly impressed.” The road took a bend as they started past a myriad of shop fronts on either side. “Where might we find this master jeweler?”

  A flyer attached to a lamppost broadcasted “Richmond Fair” in enormous letters. Before Fletcher could read it, Georgiana stepped in front of the sign and pointed across the street. “Over there. Matthews Jewelers.”

  “Capital.” He pulled the dogs to his right while they waited for a hay wagon to amble past. “All clear.”

  “One usually doesn’t find London traffic in Twickenham.”

  In the blink of an eye, he kissed her cheek.

  Skittering away, she gaped. “People can see us!”

  He gestured up and down the deserted street. “As you said there’s no traffic.”

  “But that didn’t mean we should do—do—” She shook her finger at his mouth, positive she’d turned as red as beetroot. “That!”

  His lips twisted as he gave a bow of his head. “Forgive me, but it is you who make me behave like a swain.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “I try my damnedest.”

  Such an audacious duke. Pursing her lips, she gave him another finger-shake just for good measure. “No more flirting.”

  With a tsk of his tongue, he fell into step beside her. “You’re no fun.”

&nbs
p; While Fletcher tied the dogs’ leads to a post, Georgiana spotted another flyer for the fair in the window of the shop. She stood in front of the tabloid while looking on. “Do Max and Molly need to be tied?”

  “Not really, not especially near Colworth. Though one can never be too cautious when in an unfamiliar place.” Fletcher straightened and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

  “Thank you. I’m sure you’ll be duly impressed with Mr. Matthews’ work.” A bell rang as she stepped inside while the duke held the door. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

  “Not especially.”

  “Hello, I’ll not be but a moment,” said a reedy voice from the back.

  “Take your time. We’d like to do a bit of browsing.” Fletcher tugged Georgiana over to a display. “Is there anything here that takes your fancy?”

  “My fancy?” She almost laughed. “I’m afraid I have no use for jewels.”

  He moved nearer, so close the wool from his coat brushed her arm. The rough pad of his pointer finger traced a line from her earlobe to the base of her throat, making gooseflesh rise across her skin. “I disagree. With beauty as exquisite as yours, I see no better canvas for a work of art such as...” He pointed to an amethyst necklace and matching comb. “This lovely ensemble, for example.”

  She gave him a nudge with her elbow, mouthing, “no more flirting.” Then Georgiana nodded politely when a maid came in with a feather duster.

  Clearing her throat, she regarded the piece. “It is beautiful. But I’ll have no place to wear it when I return to Thetford.”

  Fletcher bent over the display. “Ah yes, the cottage your mother refers to as a hovel.”

  “Mm hmm,” she said, examining the amethyst set more closely. Each stone was set in a circle of gold filigree, and there was a pair of earrings to match.

  “Or do you prefer the garnet?” he asked as the maid moved behind the display.

  Georgiana’s gaze slipped to a single necklace with a gold chain, the pendant was, indeed, a teardrop garnet, surrounded by tiny pearls. “It is nice. And a fair bit less ostentatious than the amethysts.”

  “Am I correct in assuming you prefer simple jewelry?”

  Wearing garish paste made Georgiana feel garish and overdone. “Positively.”

  “Always the practical lady. What about the pearls?”

  No, Georgiana wouldn’t have been a woman if her breath didn’t catch at the sight of the elegant strand of pearls. “Oh my.”

  Fletcher pointed above the necklace. “Of course no strand of pearls ought to be worn without a matching tiara and earrings.”

  She cupped a hand over her mouth and whispered, “Those could be worn with nothing at all.”

  Fletcher’s black eyebrows shot up just as the maid dropped her duster and gasped.

  Good Lord, Georgiana’s face burned so hot, it must have turned as red as rubies. How could she have been so vulgar as to say such a thing...and in a shop of all places?

  But the woman wasn’t looking at Georgiana. Her enormous eyes regarded Evesham as if she were rapture-struck. “Your Grace,” she said, looking left then right. “I know I shouldn’t utter a thing, b-but I owe you my life.”

  Fletcher grew a tad pale.

  “Do you know this young lady?” Georgiana asked.

  The woman nodded at the duke. “He may not know who I am, but I certainly know of him. If it hadn’t been for His Grace, I never would have come into a position working for gentleman such as Mr. Matthews.”

  Odd. Fletcher didn’t know the maid, yet he was responsible for...what appeared to be...a relatively advantageous appointment.

  Evesham rocked back on his heels. “I’m glad to hear you’ve prospered, miss.”

  “And my son, Jimmy. He’s seven now and causes no trouble. Mr. Matthews employs him to fetch wood and run errands about town.”

  “Marvelous,” Fletcher said amicably before returning his attention to the display.

  Georgiana touched his elbow. “Exactly how did—”

  “Please forgive me. I hope you’ve found something that suits your fancy.” Mr. Matthews stepped in from the back room. “Lady Georgiana is that you?”

  She blinked and shifted her gaze to the jeweler. “Indeed. Please allow me to introduce His Grace, the Duke of Evesham.”

  “Duke?” Mr. Matthews bowed deeply. “It is an honor, Your Grace.”

  Georgiana couldn’t help but puzzle, gape-mouthed while the maid picked up her duster and slipped out the rear door.

  “Might we have a closer look at the pearls?” asked Fletcher.

  She wrung her hands. “Oh, no. It isn’t necessary.”

  “I rather think they’d complement Her Ladyship’s complexion stunningly.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Mr. Matthews as he removed a skeleton key and unlocked the back of the display. “Her mother is rather fond of sapphires.”

  “That is because Mama has blue eyes.”

  Evesham took the necklace from the jeweler and held it up. “If you would allow me.”

  She turned. “I suppose it won’t hurt to try them on. Don’t mind my bonnet.”

  The pearls were cool against her skin as she ran her fingers across them.

  “Lovely choice, my lady.” Mr. Matthews held up a looking glass. “See for yourself.”

  No one in all of Christendom would have been able to withhold gasping at such beauty. She drew her fingers along the perfectly matched strand. “Oh my, you do such exquisite work, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  The duke’s reflection smiled at her in the glass. “Those were made for you.”

  No. I cannot allow him to shower me with expensive gifts. “They are magnificent, but they’ll have to be saved for someone else.”

  “Namely me,” said Evesham. “I’ll take the pearls and the tiara and the matching earrings. Oh, and the sapphire brooch as well, please.”

  She reached back and unclasped the necklace herself. “But you cannot possibly...”

  He gave her a look that insisted he would stand for no argument on the matter. “I can and I will. It hasn’t escaped me that someone is having a birthday—Saturday, is it not?”

  “Yes, but what will Mama think if you gave me pearls?”

  “I should care what your mother thinks?” He winked—still flirting, blast him. “Besides, how can you be certain I am buying these for you?”

  “Excuse me but a moment and I’ll wrap these for you.” Mr. Matthews relocked the display. “And Lady Georgiana, I can think of no one in the whole of England who would look more radiant wearing these.”

  Fletcher snorted.

  “He had to say that,” she hissed as the jeweler headed to the back room.

  “No, he could have said Twickenham rather than England, and that wouldn’t have been half the compliment he just paid.”

  “What about the maid?” Georgiana asked, changing the subject. If she wasn’t going to win on one count, he owed her an explanation about the other. “What on earth did you do to help her, and if you were so helpful, why did you not recognize her?”

  “’Tis a secret.”

  “Oh? And you expect me to step out of this shop with you? Either you tell me what happened with that young woman, or I’ll demand that Mr. Matthews return the pearls to the display.”

  He growled, affecting an unconvincing scowl. “Damnation, you are difficult.”

  “Only when it is absolutely necessary.”

  “If I tell you, you mustn’t utter a word to anyone. And that includes Lady Eleanor.”

  “Fine. Just tell me this mysterious secret of yours.”

  “If you must know.” Tugging on his cuffs, he exhaled. “I am the financier of the Benevolent Home for Unwed Mothers.”

  “For—?”

  “’Tis on the east side. I wouldn’t expect you to have heard of it.”

  “And the maid—she’s received the help from your home?”

  “Evidently she has. Mrs. Whipple is the overseer who r
uns the day-to-day affairs. Most women who shelter there have no idea who their patron is. I was quite taken aback to have Mr. Matthews’ maid recognize me. As such, she must have been very close to and trusted by the matron.”

  “Who would guess?” Georgiana leaned in, placed a hand on his arm, and whispered, “The most notorious rake in all of London is a philanthropist.”

  “HAVE YOU BEEN AWAY from Hardwick Hall for so long, you can no longer find your way back to the house?” Mama asked, clearly annoyed.

  “It is my doing,” said Fletcher as he escorted Georgiana into the gallery where the guests had assembled. “I’m afraid I led her astray. I’ve never been to Twickenham before and thought it might be diverting to do a bit of shopping.”

  “You’ve been shopping?” Mother asked, sounding aghast, though she did manage to flutter her eyelashes at the duke. “But what of the scavenger hunt? What was so pressing it couldn’t wait until this afternoon?”

  “Mama, It wouldn’t have been fair to the other guests had I partaken in the scavenger hunt.”

  “You mean to say you didn’t even attempt to play?”

  “Once again, Your Ladyship, I must take the blame. Lady Georgiana did say you would be disappointed if we returned without playing the game. And as such, I was fortuitous to happen upon a Mr. Matthews.” Crossing the floor, Fletcher pulled a small box from his waistcoat pocket. “He informed me that you’re quite fond of sapphires.”

  “For me?” All angst fell away from her features, turning into an expression of genuine surprise. Mama accepted the gift and opened the box. “Oh, my, this is exquisite.”

  Beaming, Fletcher twisted the signet ring on his little finger. “Your daughter mentioned it would match your eyes.”

  Eleanor shouldered in beside Georgiana. “Saved by jewelry. He is suave, is he not?”

  She had no idea. The man could charm a badger into submission. “I did not intend to play her silly game—after all, what would she have done to me if Evesham hadn’t given her the brooch? Send me to my chamber without supper?”

  Opening her fan and covering her mouth, Eleanor leaned nearer. “What else did the duke purchase in town?”

  “Pearls, though it is a quandary who they are for.”