The Illegitimate Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  Rising to the challenge, she licked her lips and considered the man to whom she was so unequivocally drawn. “May I be completely honest?”

  Glancing sideways, she noted the frown upon his brow and almost expected him to tell her she ought to forget the whole thing. Instead, he gave a curt nod. “Of course.”

  Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she said, “Your life is devoid of pleasure and happiness. You rarely smile and I have never seen you laugh with abandon, which makes me want to poke you until you do.” His lips twitched and her heart fluttered against her chest. Concealing her response to him with a small cough, she added, “You are an extraordinary man and physician, yet you never take pride in your accomplishments. Instead, you treat them like ordinary achievements, even though they are anything but.” She met his gaze and held it, his blue eyes pulling her into their depths. “I wonder why that is and can only conclude that something must have happened to you in the past—something that affected your opinion of yourself so gravely that the light inside you was almost snuffed out. By what, I do not know, but it must have been extremely significant to influence you so strongly.”

  “So it was.”

  They were immediately distracted by footmen who came to clear the dishes, replacing them with plates filled with venison, creamed potatoes and caramelized carrots. Juliette picked at her food, eating slowly while pondering what to say next. She hadn’t meant to criticize or pry, yet she felt as though she’d done so anyway.

  Washing a piece of venison down with a sip of wine, she gave Florian her full attention once more. “You are also extremely dedicated and loyal. You’ve proven this in the way you’ve helped Viola run St. Agatha’s, in the attention you offer your patients and in the dignity with which you’ve accepted your uncle’s legacy.”

  “I merely strive to do what is best.”

  “And I admire that. Especially your ability to know what the best thing is.”

  He harrumphed. “It’s not difficult. I simply weigh the potential outcomes and choose the path that will lead to the most favorable one.”

  She stared at him and finally shook her head. “While that may be easy for you to do, it’s not as easy for me. I am invariably ruled by my heart.”

  “Perhaps because you let different shades cloud your judgment. If you remove them, you’ll see more clearly.”

  She chose not to argue even though she disagreed. To have that kind of objectivity would take extreme effort on her part and even then she doubted it would be possible.

  The main course was finished, a sweet wine was poured and dessert, consisting of frosted cakes and marzipans designed to look like fruit, was brought in. Juliette carefully bit into one and immediately sighed with pleasure.

  It took great restraint on Florian’s part not to reach out and touch her. By God, the woman was tempting. He wondered if she was aware of it, if she knew how seductive she was being while nipping at her cake. Her dress this evening was chaste, less revealing than the ones he’d seen her wear at the balls, and he found it far more enticing. The wicked fantasies it evoked of pulling that extra fabric aside, preferably with his teeth, to reveal the soft swell of her breasts beneath, was starting to cause him physical pain.

  It shouldn’t have, after what she’d told him. The accuracy with which she’d homed in on the biggest influence in his life ought to have deterred him from having erotic musings where she was concerned. It ought to have jolted his senses, to force the same self-loathing he experienced whenever a connection was drawn between him and Bartholomew.

  But it hadn’t. Not this time. Rather, he’d found her analysis of him shockingly intriguing.

  Shifting, he inhaled her scent and found he could stand it no longer. He simply had to know. “What perfume do you wear?”

  Her throat worked with the effort of swallowing her food so she could answer, her eyes wider than ever before. Perhaps on account of the way he’d posed the question, whispering it as if answering him was forbidden.

  His gaze dropped to her lips, parted now and quivering softly against her tremulous breath. Impossibly strong desire rushed through his veins without warning and in that moment, the only thing he could think of was how much he longed to press his mouth gently over hers and take the kiss he so dearly wanted.

  And more.

  As alluring as that thought was, he recognized the danger of it and deliberately eased back. Guarding his control, he looked at her with a bland expression, and waited for her response.

  “Peonies,” she told him simply. “We used to have them in the garden when I was a child. I always favored the scent to that of roses and other fragrant flowers.”

  “I can understand why.” His voice was once again level with no sign of intimacy, for which he was grateful. “It is an extremely pleasant scent.” And since he wasn’t sure what else to say on the matter without once again descending into a lust-stricken state, he returned to a far more comfortable subject by saying, “If you have finished reading Domestic Medicine and you’re interested in the subject, there are other books I can lend you.”

  “I found a copy of The View of the Theory of Medicine by James Gregory at the Library, so I have been reading that for the past couple of days.”

  “Gregory is a fine physician. I was honored to meet him once.”

  “According to what I have read so far, his views appear similar to Buchan’s, regarding hygiene, but what I found most interesting was his mention of poor food and drink as a cause for ill health. It made me wonder if this may have been the reason why I was always sick while living in St. Giles.”

  Florian pondered that thought. Her interest in medical texts, the fact that she’d read not only the one he’d lent her but sought out additional material on her own, pleased him immensely. “It is possible, considering how well you have been doing since moving to Mayfair.”

  “The nourishment here is much improved from the flavorless broth we were able to afford before. Not that I am complaining,” she added with a hasty glance at Amelia and Raphe. “My siblings did their best to take care of us.”

  There was no denying the regret with which she said that last part. Understanding its meaning, Florian quietly reassured her. “You were a child. It was their duty to do so while it was your duty to allow it.”

  “I know.”

  But it was clear she didn’t like it. “Now that you are older and your constitution has improved, you have the opportunity to do a great deal of good. Reading these books and educating yourself as much as possible on the subject you’ve chosen to get involved with is an excellent start.”

  Her eyes lit with pleasure and he would not have been able to tear his own gaze away from hers if someone had offered a million pounds for him to do so.

  “You told me I am worthy of admiration,” he said, “but so are you. The strides you are taking to help those in need are impressive.”

  Surprise touched her features, producing a charming blush.

  “Thank you. I’ve done what I can to make the fund-raiser tomorrow as successful as possible, but I still worry something might go wrong.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m nervous.” She averted her gaze with obvious shyness—the sort that produced an inexplicable feeling of protectiveness in the center of his chest. “Making a success of it is so important to me. You’ve no idea how hard it was to convince some of the businesses I approached to offer up prizes. And none of the other gentlemen I spoke to were willing to offer dances or even a walk in the park. Some even laughed at the suggestion.”

  “Relax, my lady. Take a deep breath. There is no doubt in my mind that this event of yours will be a triumph.” The urge to take her hand in his was tempting, but he fought against it. His attraction toward her was one thing, a basic male instinct she’d likely inspire in most men. This immediate need to reassure her and make her feel safe was something else however. Dangerous.

  Chapter 12

  After dinner, the gentlemen ad
journed to the library for a drink while the ladies took tea in the parlor. Although the discussion that ensued was an interesting one regarding responsibility toward one’s tenants—a subject on which Florian would soon have to become an expert since he had no intention of leaving everything to his man of affairs like his uncle suggested—he could not seem to focus. Hazel eyes and blonde locks of hair occupied his mind to such a degree he was relieved when it was time to reconvene with the ladies in the music room.

  Deliberately, Florian avoided crossing to where Lady Juliette was sitting. Doing so would only draw attention and prompt everyone to assume he had a deeper interest in her.

  So he hung back and took a seat close to the door. It was the perfect spot really since it allowed him to watch her discreetly while enjoying the pleasing sound of the Duchess of Huntley’s singing. Her husband, Florian noted, watched his wife with unfeigned adoration. It was clear their union was a happy one and that they loved each other a great deal, a notion compelling Florian to give his attention to Lady Juliette once more.

  She was talking to her sister and Coventry, her occasional smiles and muted laughter producing an ache in his heart, and he was chagrined and somewhat mortified by the realization that he wanted it all to himself.

  Her eyes caught his and in the next instant she’d risen, coming toward him like Thisbe drawn toward Pyramus. They had been an impossible pair as well, both suffering tragic deaths because of their love. Which wasn’t very encouraging, as far as analogies went.

  Florian stood and awaited her arrival.

  “If you would rather sit alone, please say so and I shall not bother you further.” She shot a look at the two available chairs with a small round table between them.

  “On the contrary.” He gestured toward one of the chairs. “Your company would be appreciated.”

  Rather than sit, she remained where she was. She even took a small step closer, which caused a riot of nerves to assault his chest. “Would it be accurate to say we are friends?”

  His heart thumped wildly in response to the sweetness with which she posed the question. “Of course.”

  She nodded ever so faintly. “Good.” Lowering herself to her chair, she waited for him to sit as well. “I’m pleased to know we’re aligned.”

  The twinkle in her eyes denoting humor prompted him to smile, which not only felt like a foreign stretching of unused muscles, but also caused the lady to stare. This in turn made him laugh, which was even more peculiar, but her expression was too amusing to cause any other reaction.

  She suddenly laughed as well. “You should allow yourself to smile more, Florian.”

  He tightened his features, returning them to their usual state of seriousness. “There is little for me to smile about, my lady. Pain shadows me wherever I go.”

  “But surely you must find joy in easing the suffering of your patients, in saving lives and also in bringing new life into the world.”

  “Of course I do, but the moment I allow such emotion to fill me, it is killed by the inevitable hand of death.” And by the reminder that he was an imposter.

  “I am sorry. It never occurred to me that your profession would be so trying, that it would take so much away from you.”

  Disliking the depressing tone of their conversation, Florian decided to make a deliberate effort to change it by attempting to get to know her better. “So aside from your keen attention to medicine these days, what other pursuits hold your interest?”

  She folded her hands in her lap and turned to face him more fully. “I have always loved reading. Growing up, books were often my only companions. And with Raphe constantly exchanging them, there were always new ones available. It forced us to read things we never would have considered otherwise, like a discourse on Mediterranean fishing.” Her expression grew pensive and she bit her lip before shaking her head and saying, “I suppose it will prove useful if I ever move to Spain.”

  For the second time that evening, Florian realized he was smiling, not out of politeness, but because of genuine amusement. Her effect on him at this point went beyond the carnal. She made him long for the sort of happiness he’d thought was out of his grasp. And he realized he might be able to have it as long as he kept her by his side, which was something of an astounding revelation, one which he would not spend too much time considering at present.

  So he pushed the uneasy thought aside and asked, “And of these books, which were your favorites?”

  A secretive grin made her eyes light up as if brought aglow by a thousand candles. “Andrew Marvell’s Miscellaneous Poems.”

  Florian’s heart stopped, or so it felt. Logic of course denied such a possibility since he knew he was still alive. “Really?” How much more could they possibly have in common?

  “I simply adore To His Coy Mistress. Have you perchance read it?”

  If someone had told him two weeks ago that he would discover he had more in common with Lady Juliette than with anyone else in the world, he would have called that person a fool. And yet, she studied people with his own sharp-eyed calculation, sought knowledge with unforgiving tenacity, fought tooth and nail for what she believed in and apparently had a penchant for Andrew Marvell. Who would have thought?

  Unable to resist, he recited from memory. “‘Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, Lady, were no crime.’” His words were hushed beneath the musical sound of the piano, so low they would be lost to everyone else save Lady Juliette.

  “‘We would sit down and think which way,’” she continued, “‘to walk and pass our long love’s day.’” Pausing there, she met his gaze and bashfully pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

  Florian struggled to breathe. It felt as though she’d spoken directly to him instead of merely reciting the words he knew so well. Needing to quell the momentary awkwardness and save her the embarrassment he sensed she was feeling, he said, “It is a beautiful poem filled with vivid imagery and perfect metaphors. I have held a particular fondness for it since the moment I read it during my first year at Eton. In general, I prefer poetry to prose because of the talent it takes to convey a precise thought, concept or emotion within the confines of a predetermined structure. It is more difficult, I think, than writing a novel. At any rate I am rubbish at it myself.”

  She grinned. “So you have attempted it?”

  He shrugged, not entirely eager to discuss his poetic failings. “I dabbled in my youth but it quickly occurred to me that I was better off concentrating on other pursuits and leaving the poetry to the poets.”

  “That has been my experience with watercolors.” She produced a self-aware smile. “I enjoy it because there is something soothing about the experience of painting itself, but I cannot profess to have any talent.”

  “Then paint for the joy of it alone and forget the rest. It does not matter how good you are at painting when you have found another vocation at which you excel.”

  Lips parted on a stunned intake of breath, she stared at him with bewildered consternation. “You flatter me, sir.”

  “I speak the truth. Nothing more.”

  Pleasure softened her features while the dimmed light from the oil lamp between them brought a lovely glow to her cheeks. If she were captured on canvas right now the result would be reminiscent of an Adam de Coster painting. Regrettably, only his mind’s eye would preserve her present appearance and not as eternally as she deserved.

  She angled her head with a twitch of her lips, the motion animating her expression and destroying the mental painting. “You look trapped in thought,” she told him gently.

  An interesting description of his current state of mind.

  With a shake of his head he leaned back while glancing sideways in her direction. “I almost did not come this evening. There is much for me to attend to at present, and dining out with friends seemed like an unnecessary distraction.”

  “More so than attending balls?”

  He winced. “Social events can result in additional sponsors.
I never attend them for my amusement.”

  “So why make an exception this evening?”

  She’d stopped looking at him again, her entire focus on her family across the room, and he wondered how honest he ought to be, how much of himself he dared reveal. To say he was there because of her would probably make her wonder about his intentions. And rightfully so. But with no desire to start a courtship and no plan to marry, he shouldn’t encourage her to do so. Which prompted him to say, “Caution has always guided me, my lady. I worry the truth might set things in motion that are better off left alone.”

  “I see.”

  Did she? He could not tell. “The hour grows late.” It was time for him to add some distance between them. As it was, he’d already said too much, expressed too many emotions, allowed himself to touch her. Rising, he bowed low before her, then strode over to thank his hosts for a wonderful evening. His only regret as he went was looking back at Lady Juliette, who was watching his departure as if his impending absence would cause her personal pain.

  He’d been charming. Wonderfully so. And he’d laughed, if only a very tiny bit. But the action had given her hope and instilled in her a warmth that lingered long after he was gone. Accompanying Raphe and Gabriella home in the Huntley carriage, Juliette settled back against the squabs and allowed their conversation to play back in her mind. A smile touched her lips when she thought of his compliments, and heat warmed her cheeks as she recalled the poem they’d recited. Parts of it were rather daring, like the mention of breasts and lust and the suggestion that it was best to give in to desire before time ran out. So she was glad he hadn’t continued where she had left off since that would most likely have caused her entire face to catch fire.

  “You spoke at great length with Florian this evening.” Raphe’s remark scattered Juliette’s thoughts and brought her back to the present with a jolt.

  “I enjoy his company.”