Blame It on Bath: The Truth About the Duke

by Caroline Linden

  It was gentle but somehow compelling. Despite the slight scratch of stubble his lips were soft and smooth. They moved lightly over hers, teasing, tugging, exploring. Katherine was shocked; she’d been kissed before, but usually on the cheek or a quick, impersonal press of her husband’s mouth against hers. It never lasted this long, or felt this delicious. It was as disorienting as it was wonderful. For a moment she simply fell into the pleasure of being held this way by this man. Her tense fingers eased on his arms, and she let out a tiny sigh.

  His hand shifted, sliding from the back of her neck to her jaw. His thumb stroked lightly under her chin, and she flinched in surprise. He angled his head more and traced the seam between her lips with the tip of his tongue. Katherine hesitantly parted her lips when he did it again, and he growled low in his throat, the sound redolent with satisfaction, as his tongue swept into her mouth. Automatically she tried to retreat, but he gathered her closer without any apparent effort, tipping up her chin a little farther as he tasted her mouth leisurely and sensuously. She felt overwhelmed by him—his size, his strength as he held her, the warm taste of burgundy wine on his tongue, the way he made her heart pound so hard she thought she might faint. She didn’t know what to do—what he expected or wanted her to do—so she could only stand there and let him kiss her. And the sole thought her brain could form was one of thanks that he had said yes before he kissed her this way.

  After an eternity, much too soon, he raised his head and looked down at her for a moment in silence, his expression somehow hot and fierce in the firelight. “Yes, that will do,” he murmured as he released her. “For now.”

  Her cheeks burned. Reason flooded back through her. “You should have asked,” she said tightly.

  That naughty, sensual grin bent her new fiancé’s wicked mouth. “You asked me.” Katherine just glared at him, scrabbling for her lost dignity. Her breasts still tingled from being pressed so intimately against his chest, and from the way his eyes glinted as they slid over her, he knew it. “Or did you not know what a husband’s duty included?”

  Duty. Of course. She flattened her hands against her skirt and reined in her body’s reaction, aided considerably by his choice of words. “Of course I do,” she said, making her voice carefully free of emotion. “You merely startled me.”

  “Good,” he said, sounding suspiciously amused. “We can be married tomorrow.”

  Katherine’s mouth fell open. “Tomorrow? What do you mean?”

  He produced a paper from his pocket and handed it to her. She unfolded it and read the special license, giving the bearer permission to marry at any time without banns. He couldn’t have shocked her more thoroughly if he’d produced a vicar from the cupboard. She looked up at him, speechless.

  He cocked his head when she just gaped at him. “Have you changed your mind? It’s not too late.”

  “No! I— I—” She looked away from him, away from his intense gaze, down at the paper in her hand. Not only was he willing to have her, he kissed her. He wanted to make love to her. He was going to marry her tomorrow. This was not at all what she had expected. A thrill of excitement twined with the panic unfurling in her stomach. “You surprise me,” she said, trying to hide both emotions. “I didn’t anticipate such haste.”

  “Unfortunately, my dear, I don’t have time to spare. You knew I was on my way out of town three days ago.” He crossed the room to the table and came back with a glass in one hand.

  Her mind leaped from one topic to another without pausing long enough to make any decisions. Somehow she’d completely lost control of what should have been a very controlled situation. He took the license from her and handed her the glass, the wine he had poured earlier. “Where are you going?” was all she managed to ask.

  He just smiled, a watchful, wry expression on his face as he tucked the license back into his pocket. “Where my search takes me. I assume you will come with me. That is, after all, why I procured the license. I also thought you wouldn’t want to return to Lucien Howe’s home, given how far you’ve gone to avoid wedding him. No doubt he won’t be the most gracious of hosts after tomorrow.”

  Yes, that was true. She dipped her head in acknowledgment.

  The captain nodded. “I thought as much. You and your maid should remain here tonight. Tomorrow we can be married at the church, then collect your things. You can pack in an hour or two, can you not?”

  “Remain here?” Katherine was appalled all over again. She’d be discovered missing for certain . . . except, that wouldn’t matter much now, would it? Lucien couldn’t do anything to her with the captain standing beside her as her husband. In fact, the greater danger probably lay in returning to Portman Square tonight. If she had been missed, Lucien would be furious, and heaven only knew what he would do to prevent her from leaving again. Perhaps it was best to grasp this chance to put herself out of his reach entirely. After all, Lucien had probably gotten a special license as well since he expected to marry her in a few days’ time himself. And what purpose would waiting serve? She certainly didn’t expect the captain to go through some charade of courting her.

  “The inn’s not full. I can secure a room for you and your maid.” Gerard de Lacey gave her a sinful glance from under his eyelashes. “Unless you’d rather have your wedding night early.”

  Katherine felt the heat pool in her cheeks, and in her belly, at that glance, and for a moment the word yes almost leaped off her tongue. It was even more than she’d hoped for, or dreamed of . . . But she mustn’t give in to that. It shocked her he might want her that way, but of course it wouldn’t last. He was making a good show, out of gratitude most likely. She would be a fool to think it was real. “You may take another room,” she said. “Birdie will stay with me.” He nodded, and she held up one hand. “I meant for the foreseeable future, Captain. I will go with you, but my maid is coming with me.”

  “Of course,” he said, unperturbed. “I never expected less.” He raised his glass in salute and drained it with a twist of his wrist.

  She nodded. “Then we understand each other.”

  “Not yet,” he said with a chuckle. “But we will.” He strode to the door and opened it. “You may go to her,” she heard him tell Birdie, and the sound of his boots echoed in the corridor as he walked away.

  Birdie rushed into the room, closing the door behind her. “What did he do to you?” she demanded. “I vow, my heart was going so fast, I thought sure we’d be caught!”

  “He said yes,” Katherine murmured.

  “And now—oh dear, it’s quite late, we’ll have to hurry, hurry back to town!” Still shaking her head, Birdie snatched up Katherine’s cloak and held it up. “Come, m’lady, we really must make haste!”

  “No.” Katherine took a sip of the wine the captain had given her. Gerard. Her soon-to-be-husband. She took another sip to hide the shiver that rippled through her at the thought. “We’re to stay here tonight. The captain and I will be married in the morning.”

  Birdie stared at her, mouth gaping, the cloak dragging on the floor. “Tomorrow?”

  Katherine nodded, drinking more wine. It would go to her head, but she felt half-drunk already, off-balance and unable to keep her thoughts in order. The wine tasted like him—of course, because he had been drinking it before he kissed her. The memory made her lift the glass again. “It makes perfect sense, really. The only way things can go awry is if Lucien somehow discovers what I’ve done before I’m married to the captain. Returning home now only affords him a chance to interfere.” Birdie’s expression remained fearful. Katherine reached for her hand. “Don’t worry, Birdie. It may seem sudden and rash, but this is what I wanted. Why would I back out now?”

  The maid’s lip quivered before she bit it. “I know, madam. I cannot help but worry.”

  “Well, some worries must be put aside and not indulged,” said Katherine quietly. “I made my choice.” Birdie closed her eyes and nodded. “We’re leaving tomorrow on the captain’s busin
ess. I hope you will come with me.”

  Birdie’s eyes popped open, snapping with outrage. “Of course I’m coming with you,” she said in indignation. “Where else would I go?”

  Katherine just shook her head, mutely relieved Birdie was still supporting her. Birdie had been hired years ago as her nurse, slowly becoming her governess, then her abigail. She’d been a poor widow, grieving after the deaths of her husband and only child, when she first came to care for Katherine, a plain, serious girl born to vex a vivacious, pretty mother. Birdie understood Katherine’s quiet stubbornness and subtle humor far more than Mrs. Hollenbrook ever did.

  Katherine’s father grasped how vital Birdie was to Katherine, and at her marriage to Lord Howe, he quietly settled a good sum of money on Birdie so she would be independent of Howe’s whims. It hadn’t mattered—Howe turned out not to mind too much what his wife did or what servant she preferred—but it sealed Birdie’s loyalty to Katherine and her father.

  By the time the captain came back with the innkeeper, Katherine had regained her composure. She was able to return the look he gave her with one of cool civility, not faltering even when he made no effort to hide his grin. It didn’t matter if she amused him. It didn’t matter if he kissed her. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, whether he ended up coming to her bed or not. She knew before asking him to marry her that he was brash and a bit quick-tempered, bold and daring. Of course his manly pride would have to exert itself after the blunt way she usurped the typically male role. She mustn’t be surprised if he insisted on claiming his husbandly rights, just to establish who was the master in their marriage, no matter whose money supported them.

  But he was saving her from Lucien. Katherine realized how thoroughly as the innkeeper showed her and Birdie to a large, clean room. The captain might have asked her to stay here tonight for his own purposes as well—he wouldn’t want his wealthy bride to change her mind overnight and refuse to wed him after all—but at least he had the courtesy to present it in a light beneficial to her. Now there was no way Lucien could thwart her plans since they would be accomplished before he even knew what they were.

  The men left them at the door, the captain with a polite kiss on her hand and a gleaming look that almost made her blush again. “Good night, sir,” she told him primly, closing the door in his face, listening to his muted laugh as he walked away. Convenience, she reminded herself.

  “Oh, madam,” said Birdie on a sigh. “I do hope you know what you’ve gotten into.”

  Not anymore, whispered a nervous voice in her head. “Don’t worry, Birdie,” she replied. “Everything will be fine.”

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, Katherine rose early. She dressed again in her fawn dress, the silk sadly crumpled despite Birdie’s efforts to lay it flat on the table. The innkeeper sent up a tray with breakfast, and on it were a brush and comb along with some orange water. Birdie dampened her hair and combed out all the curls Katherine’s mother insisted she wear, but then there was nothing they could do except pin it up in a plain chignon. Her hair, though shiny and thick, was absolutely, hopelessly, plain and straight. Katherine dabbed the orange water behind her ears, grateful she would smell nice if nothing else, and went down to meet her bridegroom.

  He looked fresh and handsome, dazzlingly masculine in his scarlet coat and tall, polished boots. He was signing the register as she came downstairs and glanced up at her from beneath a rumpled wave of dark hair falling over his brow. His blue eyes gleamed as he flashed her a quick smile. It was all Katherine could do to nod in reply. Good gracious; she was taken off guard by how very attractive he was in the full light of day, freshly shaved and washed, wearing his spotless uniform. It was almost impossible to credit that this man, this dashing, virile son of one of the oldest and noblest families in England, was going to marry her. He must be absolutely desperate for the money, she told herself, waiting as he paid the innkeeper and crossed the room to where she stood with Birdie.

  “Good morning, my dear,” he said, bowing.

  “Good morning, sir.” She bobbed a curtsey. “I trust you haven’t lost your nerve.”

  “It would take a bit more than you to make me lose my nerve,” he said. “Have you eaten?”

  She nodded. A cup of tea had been more than enough.

  He tugged on his gloves and set his hat on his head, tilted rakishly, then offered his arm without another word. Telling herself not to be a goose, Katherine placed her hand on his wrist and followed him out. In the courtyard, a driver jumped down from the box of his carriage as they approached. “Good day, ma’am,” he said, sweeping off his cap as he held the door open for her. The captain handed her inside, then Birdie, and climbed in himself.

  Birdie wedged herself next to Katherine in the seat and sat watching the captain opposite them with thin-lipped suspicion. Katherine would have to remind her later to be more respectful, but today she was so on edge herself, she let it go. For his part, the captain merely smiled at them. “I hope you slept well.”

  “Yes,” said Katherine.

  “Tolerably,” sniffed Birdie.

  “If I’d had any way to contact you, I would have suggested such a course earlier, so you could prepare.”

  “You explained it with perfect logic last night,” Katherine replied. “I should have thought of it myself.”

  He wore that faint, irritating, little smile again. “But you couldn’t know which way my decision would go. How awkward it would have been had you arrived with luggage, and I declined.”

  “You’ve got the right of that,” said Birdie under her breath. Katherine could tell it wasn’t anger but anxiety making Birdie so testy. He wasn’t helping with his air of general good humor and witty comments. Katherine had never been good at that sort of thing; it made her feel sluggish and stupid, and instinctively she tried to cut him off.

  “If you want me to fall at your feet in gratitude, Captain, you shall wait in vain,” she told him with frosty calm. “I don’t think this arrangement serves you very ill.”

  “No, it benefits me greatly.”

  “It benefits us both,” she said sharply. He met her eyes for a moment, then smiled again. He had a way of looking at her that made her think of Birdie’s words the other night, that he would work out all her secrets. Katherine felt like the most appalling dunce when he looked at her that way. She was an oddity, a curiosity to him, and she hated it. Unfortunately she had no idea how to change it. She turned to look out the window just as the carriage slowed and halted.

  “We’ve already arrived?” she exclaimed. “Why, we could have walked so short a distance!”

  “My aunt would blister my ears if I made my bride walk to the church on her wedding day,” her soon-to-be-husband replied. He opened the door and got out before helping down Birdie, then her. When she stood beside him, he kept hold of her hand until she looked up at him. “Last chance, love,” he murmured. “Are you ready? ’Til death do us part, after this.”

  The future loomed before her, blindingly, frighteningly, blank. It could be lovely, or horrible, but at least it was her own choice. She pulled her hand from his. “Yes.” Holding her cloak around her, she started up the steps of the small church, the captain following. The vicar was waiting for them, smiling broadly, and they all went into the church, Katherine feeling anxious and somehow excited, Birdie looking grim, and the captain far too calm and relaxed.

  The ceremony was over quickly, with but two surprises. The first came at the beginning, when the vicar’s wife came out to serve as witness and handed Katherine a lovely bouquet of pink rosebuds, barely open and still so fresh, they had a few drops of dew clinging to the petals. When Katherine stammered an astonished thanks, the woman pressed her hand and leaned forward to whisper that of course it was her bridegroom who sent them early that morning. Katherine looked at him from beneath her eyelashes, wondering what he meant by it, but he paid her no mind as he conversed quietly with the vicar.

  The s
econd surprise came near the end of the ceremony. When the vicar asked the captain to put the ring on her finger, Katherine expected a plain narrow band, or even none at all. Instead he placed a beautifully shaped gold ring on her finger. She barely had time to look at it before the vicar was pronouncing them man and wife. Her new husband looked down at her with his wicked grin, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her again as he had last night, right there in front of Birdie and the vicar and his wife. She braced herself, but he had already turned away to shake the vicar’s hand. Katherine let out her breath slowly, both disappointed and relieved.

  Birdie bustled up and kissed her on the cheek. “I wish you great joy,” she said in a trembling voice. “Truly I do, my dear.”

  “Thank you, Birdie.” Katherine squeezed her hand. “I owe you a great debt for helping me do this.”

  Her abigail cast a speculative glance at the captain. “I hope it brings you the peace and contentment you desire, and not . . .” She stopped and shook her head. “At least he brought a proper ring.”

  “And flowers.” Katherine held them up. “I didn’t expect that.” She turned her hand from side to side, studying the ring. It was delicately curved in the shape of a curling vine, etched with flowers and leaves. She stole another look at the man who had put it on her finger. He was tall and handsome, nobly connected—for now—and even thoughtful. Perhaps they would come to know each other well enough to share affection, even love. Perhaps in time theirs would blossom from a marriage of convenience, forged out of mutual need for what the other had, to something better. Perhaps . . .

  The vicar escorted them to the vestry to sign the register. The captain signed his name with a flourish and handed her the pen. Katherine peeked at his name—Gerard Philip Francis de Lacey—before signing her own. Next to his vibrant scrawl, hers looked small and insignificant. Just like everything else about the pair of us, she thought with a sigh.