More Than a Duke (Heart of a Duke Book 2)

by Christi Caldwell

  “….Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined…”

  “I’m going to try my hand with the azalea bush,” Lord Essex said noisily. A muscle ticked at the corner of the duke’s right eye, and Katherine’s lips twitched with silent amusement. “They say the soil acidity effects the color of the bush. What are your thoughts on that, Bainbridge?”

  “Non-existent.” The duke’s curt response did little to dampen the other man’s enthusiasm.

  Anne’s lips pulled with amusement and she spoke from the side of her mouth. “Do you think Lord Essex knows the truth?” she whispered to Harry.

  He lowered his head. “The truth?”

  The vicar glared them into momentary silence. He resumed the ceremony. Her mother sat stiffly beside Lady Essex, wincing every time the white-haired woman mentioned the words ‘prized peonies’.

  “And what truth do you refer to, love?” he repeated on a hushed whisper.

  She waggled a brow. “That it was really two glasses of champagne that first called you to this space.”

  Ignoring the glowering vicar, Harry leaned close. His breath fanned her ear. “Ah, then you would both prove wrong, Anne. It wasn’t the peonies or the champagne that led me here.”

  She cocked her head. She’d rather thought it had been the champagne and scandalous activities business. “It wasn’t?”

  The vicar’s monotonous voice droned on with the ceremonial vows. “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful Day of Judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed...”

  Harry brushed his knuckles along her cheek. The vicar stopped mid-sentence. A mottled flush splotched his cheeks. Harry ignored the man’s displeasure with his improper touch, his gaze trained on Anne. “How can you still not know? It was only you that brought me here, love. It was only you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

  Warmth filled Anne’s heart as her love of this man spiraled out, in a burning conflagration of heat that could never destroy her. Harry made her stronger, and better and…

  “If it is all the same to you, may I continue?” The vicar’s angry whisper cut into their exchange.

  Harry waved a hand lazily about. “Proceed.”

  Anne smothered a giggle with her palm. Her thirteen-year-old brother, Benedict, however, made little attempt to conceal his mirth. He laughed quite boldly in his seat beside Aldora’s husband, Michael. Mother leaned over and pinched him on the arm. He winced and shifted in his seat with all the embarrassment of a boy on the cusp of manhood who’d been properly chastised before a series of observers.

  “Henry Richard Falston, 6th Earl of Stanhope wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?

  Harry raised her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “I will.” Her throat worked under the force of emotion in his hazel eyes. “There is no one I want but you, Anne,” he added, his voice hoarse.

  The vicar cleared his throat, and glared at Harry for daring to add anything to the sacred vows. “Anne Arlette Adamson, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

  She blinked back tears. “I’m not crying,” she whispered. But then a blasted drop fell. Followed by another.

  “Because you don’t cry,” Harry said solemnly.

  Another tear. “Precisely.”

  “Anne?”

  “Your vows,” Benedict shouted from his seat. The family frowned at the boy and he shifted. “I was merely reminding her,” he mumbled and slouched lower in his chair.

  Anne’s cheeks warmed and she gave her head a shake. “Er, yes, indeed.” She looked at Harry and held his gaze. “I will. Love you and honor you, and forsake all others,” she amended. She jabbed a finger into his chest. “But you aren’t ever to do anything as horrid as fall sick and leave me. Do you hear me, Harry?”

  His lips twitched with what she suspected was mirth. “What of obeying me? Do you intend to obey me, love?”

  “We shall see.” She paused. “I’ll most likely be deplorable at the whole obeying business.” A loose golden ringlet fell across her brow.

  Harry brushed the strand back. Seriousness replaced the gentle teasing in his eyes. “I will never leave you. Ever.”

  The vicar cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve quite addressed the matters of my lord’s health and constancy, may I conclude this service?” There was something faintly beseeching in that question, so Anne took pity on the older, grey-haired gentleman and remained silent through the remainder of the proceedings.

  “…by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  Just like that, Anne Arlette Adamson became the Countess of Stanhope.

  “Just lovely, absolutely beautiful!” Lady Essex cried.

  Anne’s mother seethed in silence, a clear indication of just how beautiful she saw this particular day. A pang of regret struck. Her mother would never accept the love Anne had for Harry.

  “I imagine the wedding breakfast prepared by your mother should be quite enjoyable,” he drawled close to her ear.

  Father’s betrayal, however belonged to her past. Anne smiled at Harry—her husband. He was her future. “Indeed, it should.”

  ~*~

  As Harry gathered with the loquacious, excited lot that was Anne’s family for his and Anne’s wedding breakfast, all his earlier suspicions had indeed proven correct, but certainly not in the manner he’d imagined. Seated beside Anne, listening to her laugh alongside her two sisters and younger brother, the feast really was quite—enjoyable.

  “I daresay Lord Essex will brag about the brilliance of his gardens that brought a couple to wed in his conservatory for the remainder of his days,” Aldora said on a laugh.

  Anne smiled over the rim of her wine glass. “He’ll certainly never imagine it was something as shocking as—”

  The countess’ eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Anne,” she snapped.

  Anne’s grin widened. “Harry’s love of the exotic hibiscus.”

  The three Adamson ladies dissolved into a fit of laughter.

  Benedict scratched his brow. “What is it?” He looked to his new brother-in-law. “I say, do you have a thing for Lord Essex’s flowers? I’ve never known a gentleman to love gardening.”

  Harry inclined his head. “I have a love of all things magnificent.” He winked. “Particularly your sister.”

  The young boy groaned and slapped his hands over his ears to drown out any other possible words.

  Harry chuckled and slipped his hand under the table to find Anne’s fingers. He took them in his and gave a faint squeeze. She looked at him and solemnity drove back his earlier teasing. The chatter of her siblings blurred with the conversation between Lord Michael and the Duke of Bainbridge. He ran a searching gaze over her face. Had there been a time when he’d truly not found her beautiful? There was no one more glorious than his wife.

  “What is it?” She dabbed her napkin against her mouth. “Is—?”

  He fished around the front of his jacket and withdrew a long, narrow box. “Here,” he said quietly. Anne dropped the crisp linen and accepted the gift. She looked to him questioningly. “Go on,” he urged.

  Anne slipped off the top of the box and then gasped. She looked from the necklace within and then back to him. “Oh, Harry,” she whispered. She gently removed the gold strand and ran the tip of her finger ov
er the five-carat ruby heart.

  Harry took it from her fingers. “May I?” he murmured.

  She angled her head, in response. He appreciated the long, graceful stretch of her neck and brushed his fingers caressingly over the tempting silken, softness of her skin. “I imagined you’d no longer have need of the heart of a duke necklace, and thought to replace it with the heart of your earl.” He clicked the clasp shut. “Just so that some lofty duke doesn’t take it into his head to spirit you away from me.”

  Anne touched her hand to the blood-red ruby. “Oh, Harry,” she whispered. “Surely you know no one could take me from you.”

  He tweaked her nose. “With the exception of your cousin, the loathsome Bertie Ekstrom, who nearly succeeded?”

  She pointed her eyes toward the ceiling. “Well, but for horrid, Mr. Ekstrom, I’m only yours.”

  “What’s he given her?” Benedict shouted and leaned over, squinting. It would appear another Adamson sibling was in need of spectacles. The boy wrinkled his nose. “I’ll never understand a lady’s fascination with jewelry.”

  Lord Michael Knightly cuffed the boy under the chin. “Some day you will, Benedict.”

  Lady Aldora glared up at her husband. “I never had need of a jewelry.”

  “Nor I!” Katherine intoned, with equal indignation. She looked to Bainbridge, a challenge in her brown eyes. Her husband, the duke had sense enough to say nothing on the matter.

  Harry inclined his head. “I imagine each of you had need of some jewelry.”

  The Adamson sisters’ three furious stares swung toward Harry.

  He gestured to the collection of gentlemen seated about the table. “Why, if there had been no certain pendant, I don’t imagine there would have been a Lord Knightly.” He looked to Bainbridge, who he’d entered into a truce of sorts with. “And Katherine would have no Bainbridge.”

  “And I would not have you,” Anne said quietly as Harry’s pronouncement spurred some level of debate amongst the table of individuals who clearly held all manner of different opinions on the heart of a duke necklace.

  Harry returned his attention to his new wife. “Ahh, there you are wrong, Anne.” He brushed his lips over hers. “You always had me. Just as you always will.”

  Anne’s throat moved up and down and from across the table, the ladies present released a collective sigh. He looked momentarily at his recent mother-in-law and detected the softness in her usually bitter eyes. She eyed Anne seated alongside him, and a wistful smile played about her lips, lending the first real warmth he could remember in the usually cold woman.

  As though feeling his attention on her, the countess stiffened. She squared her shoulders and met Harry’s gaze. They looked at one another a moment. He, the man who’d been determined to have her daughter at any cost, she the mother who’d have rather wed Anne off to a horrid, lecherous second cousin. Something passed between them. She nodded her head once, and then shifted her attention to the babe on Katherine’s lap.

  “Do you have any regrets, Harry?” Anne’s soft question pulled him back to his new bride.

  He leaned closed. “I do.” She stiffened. Harry placed his lips close to her ear. “I regret that this meal is not over so I can have you alone.”

  Anne lowered her voice. “Then you are not alone in those regrets, my lord.” She winked.

  He fought back a groan. And suddenly what had once been a rather enjoyable breakfast meal became an interminable affair.

  Chapter 26

  Later that evening, at last free of her family and ensconced in her new home Anne giggled. She stuck her arms out, searching for purchase from behind the blindfold her husband had placed over her eyes. “Is this another one of your lessons on seduction, Harry?” She laughed again as he guided her by the forearm.

  “Hush, love,” he scolded. “There are no more lessons.” He paused. “Well, perhaps there are some additional lessons, but none of which pertain to you learning to seduce another man.”

  “As if I would ever want another…ouch…” She grunted as he steered her into some piece of furniture or another. Her hip struck a solid piece of…well, something. “You are quite a horrid guide.”

  “Forgive me.” Amusement threaded his half-hearted apology.

  “Humph. Are we almost there?” she muttered. They’d arrived in Harry’s townhouse, nay their townhouse, nearly two hours ago. She’d changed into a modest nightshift and waited expectantly for him to come and make love to her, at last.

  Alas…she grunted…

  “My apologies,” Harry murmured once more as he steered her into what might have been a sideboard. It felt like a sideboard. “Just a bit further.” He stopped, bringing Anne to a halt. “Here.”

  She reached for the cravat he’d secured about her eyes, but he stilled her movements. “Just a moment, love.”

  A fluttering sensation filled her belly. Her heightened senses registered the slight scrape of a chair being dragged over the hardwood floor. He guided her into a seated position and the backs of her legs knocked against a bench.

  Harry loosened the folds of his cravat and tossed it aside. “Here.”

  Anne blinked as her eyes struggled to adjust in the dimly lit room. She looked about the grand parlor. High, sweeping ceilings and resplendent in gold, the parlor may have belonged in the king’s palace. She’d never truly considered where Harry made his home. The space was extravagant. The gold upholstery of the sofas lush and finer than most owned by her family, even before all their goods had been carted off by the creditors. She registered Harry’s gaze trained upon her. “It is beautiful,” she murmured.

  Harry knelt at her feet. “Not the room, love.” He guided her around in her seat. Anne’s heart froze as her fingers collided with a much-loved, familiar instrument. And then the organ inside her chest thudded wildly. She touched a reverent finger to the AA carved alongside the Wedgewood cameo.

  Anne looked wordlessly to him.

  He caught a golden ringlet between his fingers. “I spoke to Westmoreland some time ago,” he said. He continued to rub the lock between his thumb and forefinger. “After you told me about the Westmoreland girls playing your pianoforte, I couldn’t leave it there. Not knowing that someone else played what belonged to you.”

  Tears blurred her eyes and she blinked them back. A single drop slipped down her cheek. This gift, was about so much more than simply a material possession. It was about a link to her innocence, stolen by the profligacy of a shameful parent.

  Harry caught it with his thumb. “Even if I couldn’t have you, Anne, even if you wed Crawford, I needed to know your pianoforte was cared for.” His voice grew hoarse. “I’d rather it sit here unused, out of tune, with me holding onto this sliver of you. Touching the keys you once

  touched—”

  Anne kissed him. She kissed him as he’d taught. Kissed him as she’d longed to since that first meeting in Lord Essex’s conservatory.

  Harry froze and then claimed her mouth with his. He pulled her into his arms, swallowing the small, startled squeak that escaped her lips. With a remarkable ease, he turned around and marched the same path they’d walked a short while ago, upstairs, effortless and… “Oomph.” He collided into a wall.

  A breathless laugh escaped her as he cursed and then strode quickly through the magnificent townhouse; down the long corridors, up the stairs, three doors down, to his chambers. He paused and pressed the handle. He shoved the door open and carried her inside.

  Harry kicked it closed with the heel of his boot. He set her down in a way that her body slid down his. “Look at me.”

  She suspected if he spoke in that commanding, silken whisper, she couldn’t very well deny him anything. She met his gaze.

  He cupped her cheek. “You once came to me and asked me to teach you the art of seduction.” He placed his lips against her temple. “Tonight, I’m going to teach you the art of seduction.” He moved his lips on a determined path, caressing her cheek, her nose, the corner of her mouth. “
I’m going to teach your body how to sing.” He trailed his lips lower. “I’m going to caress you until you aren’t capable of a single word.” He palmed her breast.

  “I…” She fought to muster words to tell him she was very nearly there.

  “I’m going to love you until you are capable of nothing else but feeling.”

  She drew in a shuddery breath. “Harry?”

  He lowered his brow to hers. “Yes, Anne?”

  “Get on with it then, already.” The words hadn’t even left her mouth when he’d swept her into his arms and carried her over to the massive four-poster bed at the center of the room. He carefully laid her down and came over her.

  She shoved herself up on her knees and appreciated the moment he disrobed before her. He shrugged out of his elegant black jacket and tossed it aside. His white shirttails followed suit. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his broad, muscular chest, dusted with a sprinkling of tightly coiled golden curls. She caressed him.