The Illegitimate Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  “Have you known me to be anything else?”

  She shook her head. His hand still lingered against her arm as though he’d forgotten it there. “No.”

  His nostrils flared and he leaned in closer, crowding her with his much larger size. “I have always striven to be as practical as possible. When I work, I deliberately push emotion aside, allowing me to be critical, logical and ethical. It is a rare occasion when I lose my temper and yet you have managed to make me do so. Publicly, I might add.”

  “I am sorry.”

  He winced. “I am nothing more than a man, and like most men, I have my flaws, as I’m sure you’ve already realized. So, with this in mind, I urge you to ignore your compulsion to place me on a pedestal on which I do not belong. We are simply two different people, neither more nor less deserving of admiration than the other.”

  “I—”

  “Allow me to finish.” His thumb started stroking her skin in a manner no doubt intended to soothe. Instead it produced a series of sparks that skittered across her flesh.

  Halting the motion, he recommenced walking, guiding her carefully onto a shorter path that would take them straight back to the house. “You haven’t had an easy life,” he said, “yet experience has not diminished your kindness. Rather, it has turned you into a woman who wants to save people with a desperation I have never witnessed before. Does this mean you do not need guidance? Of course not, but this can easily be acquired. What matters most is the drive with which you face adversity, for indeed this is something that cannot be learned. It is either in you or it isn’t.”

  “Thank you.”

  They walked a bit more in silence before he added, “You ought to know that I have tremendous respect for you, my lady.” Reaching the stairs leading back up to the house, he glanced up at the terrace as if to ensure they weren’t being watched. He released her arm and took a step back. “You also ought to know that it’s the only thing stopping me from kissing you senseless.”

  Juliette stared up at him, unsure if she’d heard him right.

  Before she could ask he sketched a bow and bid her a good evening. He then strode away brusquely, leaving her utterly alone and more confused than she’d ever been before in her life.

  Chapter 10

  Florian left Brand House with haste. It was imperative that he arrive home as quickly as possible so he could lock himself away in his study and find solace in the bottle of brandy awaiting him there. Christ, what a mess his life had turned into!

  Lady Juliette had been stunning this evening as usual, her white diaphanous gown hugging her delicate body in a manner that could only mean to entice. And it had. He’d scarcely been able to peel his gaze away from the fullness of her breasts or the delicate lace that held her gown up. How easy it would have been to pull it down over her shoulders and undo her stays . . . It had been impossible for him to think of much else after holding her in his arms. Pressed up against him, although by accident, she’d made him incredibly aware of her feminine softness and that alluring fragrance that always clung to her person.

  And he’d held her close longer than necessary, alarmingly reluctant to let her go. To his dismay, he’d sensed she felt the same, her shallow breaths and the rapid beat of her heart keeping pace with his own, alerting him to a shared sense of awareness and . . . desire. It hadn’t been clear at first, but later, when he’d impulsively—scandalously—touched her arm to stay her progress and stroked her skin with his thumb, he’d heard the slight hitch in her breathing, watched her gaze drop to his mouth and seen her lips part in preparation for a kiss that never came.

  He wondered if she was even aware of how ready she’d been to accept his advances. It was unlikely, considering how young she was. Chances were she had no experience with being pursued in earnest. Especially when considering how protective her brother had been of her until now. Apparently he’d trusted the Warwicks to chaperone her for a change, except she’d somehow managed to elude their watchful eyes when escaping out into the garden. Neither one had come looking for her, perhaps because they’d thought she was keeping company with Miss Saunders. Florian had seen the two women together on his way out to the terrace and decided not to approach them.

  Instead, she’d found him, even if it had been by chance.

  But the intimacy they’d shared, not only through touch, but through conversation, had instilled in him a feeling of unity that he’d never experienced in anyone else’s company before. He’d been surprised to discover how much she knew about him and he’d been flattered by the compliments she’d given.

  Initially, he’d gone into medicine with the intention of undoing some of the harm his father had done in the world. He’d simply sought to balance the scales. But then he’d taken to it with uncanny ease, his fascination with medical discoveries and new surgical methods driving his thirst for additional knowledge. He’d applied himself and he’d studied hard, impressing his mentors with his dogged insistence to find the best treatment available for his patients.

  Discovering Lady Juliette’s appreciation for his accomplishments, that her interest in his field of expertise surpassed polite conversation, only made him want her more. She was temptation incarnate and a woman he had no business wanting, even after he claimed his title. Ironically, Society would claim she wasn’t good enough for him. Especially not once he became duke.

  But they would be wrong.

  Those people knew him to be an earl’s grandson, an upstanding member of Society and the physician most of them turned to when they were sick. They did not know of the monster who’d sired him or of the horrifying way in which it had happened. To subject an innocent woman like Lady Juliette to such a disturbing blemish would be beyond cruel. Best then for him to forget her before it was too late.

  Which was easier said than done since they were now working together.

  Groaning, he raked his fingers through his hair and hailed a hackney. Arriving home ten minutes later, he let himself in through the front door and shut it firmly behind him. He had three servants in total—Baker, his man of affairs who doubled as butler, Jillian, the maid, and Mrs. Croft, his cook—none of whom stayed overnight. A couple of letters littered the floor, one bearing his uncle’s seal. Picking both of them up, Florian tossed his gloves on a nearby table and made his way to his study. He stoked the fire in the grate and sought out the brandy he’d been looking forward to savoring. Pouring a full measure, he threw it back, then refilled his glass and dropped down into the nearest chair.

  Setting his glass aside, he stretched out his legs and picked up his uncle’s letter, tearing open the seal and scanning the bold script on the crisp white paper.

  Florian,

  My affairs are now completely in order. Funds have been set aside for your aunt, and my secretary has dispatched letters to my estates, instructing the caretakers and housekeepers there on how to proceed once I am gone. Hopefully, this will ease the coming transition for you.

  Sincerely,

  George Talcott

  Expelling a breath, Florian opened the second letter and froze.

  Your intention to save St. Giles interferes with my plan to destroy it. Forget the people who live there, Florian, or those nearest and dearest to you will suffer the consequence.

  Righting himself, he leaned forward and reread the missive before crumpling it up in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white. Rising, he tossed the ball of paper into the fire and hurled the rest of his brandy after it, producing a burst of angry flames. There was only one man he could think of who’d want to threaten him like this. Except it couldn’t possibly be him. Could it? To suppose that William Mortedge, the American investor the ton had welcomed into their midst, and Bartholomew, were one and the same was ludicrous. Whatever similarities the two men shared had to be coincidental. Which made Florian all the more curious to know who’d sent the letter and why that person would want to see the people of St. Giles suffer.

  Florian woke at precisely seven o’clock the
following morning. Once dressed, he descended to the dining room where he devoured two eggs, some bacon, a fried tomato and a slice of toast, washing it all down with a strong cup of tea before heading toward his study. Perhaps he ought to confide in Baker about the threat.

  The thought had barely formed when a loud knock at the front door halted his progress. Florian strode forward and opened it to find his brother with a cheerful expression upon his face. “Good morning, Henry.” He opened the door a bit wider and stepped aside so Henry could enter. “I am surprised to see you this early. I would have bet a thousand pounds on you still being abed.”

  Henry grinned. “I have not yet slept.” He began removing his gloves while following Florian into the study where Baker was busy with the ledgers.

  “Would you please give us the room?” Florian asked his servant.

  Baker was already on his feet and gathering up papers. A second later he was gone, leaving Florian and Henry alone in private. “Busy night at the club?” Florian gestured for Henry to sit.

  “Running a business requires commitment. Surely you can understand that, considering how busy your work keeps you.” Henry sat and so did Florian. “Besides, it was impossible for me to contemplate rest after reading the headline in the Mayfair Chronicle this morning. Have you seen it?”

  “Not yet,” Florian said.

  Henry grinned. “You’ve officially been named the most eligible bachelor of the Season!”

  Florian’s throat began to constrict. “What?”

  His brother’s eyes danced with amusement. “Did you not think you would be after seeing how eager the young ladies are to dance with you now? You will soon be the only unmarried duke in the country. Add to that your youth and your”—Henry waggled his eyebrows—“dashing good looks, I believe you’ve already set numerous hearts aflutter. Frankly, it will be a relief to rid myself of some of the attention.”

  “Yes,” Florian told him dryly. “What a burden it must be for you to be chased by all those women.”

  Henry sighed with exaggeration. “It can be quite exhausting, I must confess. But we digress. What I wish to know is what your plan might be from this point on.”

  “My plan?” Florian shook his head, befuddled by the urgency in his brother’s tone. “I have no plan besides working on a solution to the problem of a potentially impending epidemic.”

  “Right.” Henry nodded. “I agree that should take priority, but it doesn’t mean you cannot start contemplating your progeny.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Henry shrugged as if he hadn’t just suggested Florian turn his whole life upside down. “You are Uncle George’s heir.”

  “I am aware,” Florian drawled. He did not like the turn this conversation had taken in the least.

  “Then you also know that you have responsibilities now that you did not have before. Uncle George obviously wants a legacy or he would not have bothered making the effort, which means you need to get yourself married and have some children so the favor he requested from the king won’t be for nothing.”

  Shit.

  Florian stared at Henry. He often forgot how astute his brother could be because he tended to hide it behind a façade of charming indifference. “Perhaps you should take some time to consider your own matrimonial future. You are older than I, after all. Should you not be hurrying off to the altar before me?”

  “Right you are, Florian. Don’t think I have not set my mind to it yet for indeed I have.” This was certainly shocking. “The trouble is I want a love match and that, brother, is not so easy to come by.”

  Florian blinked. What the hell was happening? “You cannot be serious?”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because of who you are! You have taken deliberate strides to cement a certain reputation as one of London’s most notorious lotharios. And now you say you want to fall in love and set up a nursery?” Had the earth been knocked completely off its axis?

  “We must grow up at some point, Florian, and take responsibility. I will soon be three and thirty while you are steadily approaching your thirty-first year. Once you claim the title Uncle George is going to leave you, your world will change. You’ll see.”

  Which was precisely what Florian feared. “I was assured that nothing would be different, that I would still be able to practice medicine while my staff takes care of the dukely business.”

  “What a charming delusion.” Henry grinned while Florian’s chest grew tight around his lungs. The humor in Henry’s gaze died and he was suddenly uncharacteristically serious. “You are a man of honor, Florian, which is how I know you will do your duty. And with the right woman by your side, it shouldn’t be much of a hardship. Quite the contrary.”

  An image of Lady Juliette bathed in golden torchlight sprang to mind. As if reading his thoughts, Henry said, “I hear you’ve begun a working relationship with the Duke of Huntley’s sister, Lady Juliette.”

  Schooling his features for fear of revealing even one speck of emotion, Florian served his brother the frankest stare he could manage. “That is correct.”

  “And?”

  God! Henry could be worse than a gossiping old woman at times. The man loved intrigue and would not rest until he had enough information to sate his curiosity.

  “And what?”

  “Well, I’ve also seen you waltz with her twice.”

  “So what?” Florian decided the best way to tackle this situation was to feign ignorance.

  Snorting, Henry shook his head as if Florian was the most impossible person he’d ever had to converse with. “You continued to keep her company once the dances were over.”

  “Only because I found her engaging.”

  “And stunning.” Henry smiled with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Come now. You have to admit she is breathtakingly beautiful. To think you have the pleasure of keeping her company now on a regular basis almost makes me jealous.”

  Florian frowned. He didn’t like Henry’s comment because it suggested interest. Which could only mean . . . He steeled himself, careful not to reveal the sudden possessiveness darting through him while aiming for a nonchalant tone. “I will confess that she is pleasing to the eye but that is not sufficient when contemplating a permanent attachment.”

  Henry’s eyebrows shot up. “Indeed, I wasn’t even suggesting such a possibility. How intriguing that you would do so yourself.” He leaned forward and Florian cursed himself for not guarding his words better. “So, you find her attractive and yet you indicate that there needs to be more to marriage than physical attributes. Could it be that you also hope for a love match?”

  “No.” Sufficiently annoyed, Florian stood and crossed to the window to look out into the street. He flexed his fingers and aimed to regain some measure of control of the discussion that had gotten quite out of hand. “If I were seeking a bride, Henry, which I can assure you I am not, Lady Juliette would not be a candidate on my list. She is too young at heart, her nature too gentle and unassuming for a man such as myself. She would be incredibly unhappy if she were my wife while I—”

  “Yes?”

  I would destroy her.

  “It does not signify since this is nothing more than a hypothetical notion.” And yet, speaking the words, voicing his thoughts, made the idea of actually courting her real. As impossible a concept as it had always been, it filled Florian with a deep sense of loss for what could never be. She was perfect in spite of her past, while he was tarnished in spite of his deeds. And that was without considering the potential ramifications of Bartholomew’s eventual return. No. To pursue her would be selfish on his part.

  “Well, it could be more.” Henry’s gaze was solemnly pinned to Florian’s. “I have seen the way she looks at you when you talk.”

  Florian fought the urge to ask his brother to elaborate on that point and failed abysmally. “What do you mean?”

  “She admires you.”

  “Ah. Well.” Nothing new there. She’d admitted as much last night.


  “Recently, however, something about her has changed. I noted it at the Brighton Ball.”

  Florian stared at Henry, who was looking most pleased with himself, and finally asked, “And what is that?”

  Henry stood and faced Florian. He chuckled. “For a man who insists on having no interest, you do seem to be getting rather worked up about it.”

  Gritting his teeth, Florian shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and prayed for patience. “Let’s just say you’ve heightened my curiosity.”

  Henry laughed outright in response to that acerbic comment and turned for the door. He paused there and met Florian’s gaze. “She glows when she is in your presence, Florian. I have never seen another lady do that.”

  With a parting nod, he exited the room, leaving Florian utterly stupefied. He stared at the doorway through which his brother had departed and tried to come to terms with what he’d just told him. Although last night’s encounter made him believe Lady Juliette responded to him just as easily as he responded to her, hearing Henry confirm it made it an indisputable certainty. Joy surged through his veins like rays of sunshine spilling between a pair of gray storm clouds.

  He realized how much he looked forward to seeing her again, to hearing her opinions and sparring with her. She had in very short time become the person he missed the most when they weren’t together. Which gave him all the more reason to avoid her. Especially with the threatening note he’d received.

  With that unpleasant thought in mind, Florian went to collect his things so he could head to the hospital. There was work to be done and he could not afford to let himself be distracted by anyone.

  Trailing her fingers across several rolls of silk, Juliette relished the slippery feel of the fabric and all the vibrant colors in which it existed. On the other side of the room, her sister studied a cream-colored muslin.

  “What do you think?” Amelia asked after getting one of the shop assistants to help her cut a few yards. The piece was now laid out on the counter along with a good selection of trimming. “Which of these would you choose?”