Jane frowned. Hmmm, the man was not an ogre at all. He was hiding behind his dukedom like a child would hide behind a tree. She suddenly smiled when she thought about him as a little boy, all mischief and mayhem.
At that exact moment, the duke turned, his gray eyes clashing with hers. “Ah, the lady who seems to think I am a monster.”
Embarrassed to be caught looking his way, Jane dropped her needle, feeling her cheeks warm.
The duke walked into the drawing room, eyeing the needle on the floor. He raised his right brow and regarded her with an amused gaze.
Irritation spurted through her veins. Good gracious! She did not wish him to think she was interested in him. “You took me unaware, Your Grace. And I did not call you a monster. I called you an odious barbarian.”
“Ah, yes, forgive me for my lapse in memory.” He chuckled and walked toward her, bending to pick up her needle and thread. Handing it to her, his gray eyes twinkled with mischief. “Your obedient servant, Miss Greenwell. However, I must correct you. I distinctly heard you call me both.”
She reddened even more. The nearness of the man overwhelmed her. He wore some musky cologne mixed with sandalwood soap from his recent bath. The very fragrance sent her blood surging through her veins.
She swallowed nervously and dropped her gaze to her task at hand. “Th-thank you.”
“You are very welcome, Miss Greenwell.”
The man said nothing more as he took a seat beside her on the sofa. The air stirred with tension, making her feel quite silly. This was her home for the past five years, and now this duke was acting as if it were his!
She inched toward the corner of the sofa, thinking herself quite small compared to him. Goodness, Emily’s oldest brother was a controlling nuisance! Why had he not taken the wing chair or some other place far away from her? This was insufferable!
She could feel him frowning as she started back on her needlepoint and pulled the thread through the muslin. She had no idea what she was doing. Her hands were shaking like a schoolgirl at a country dance.
She swallowed hard, hoping he would not detect her nervousness. But his manly scent was like a wicked spell invading her very soul. Oh, very well. She admitted it. She could not deny her attraction to this man. But that did not mean she should like it!
After a few minutes, she looked up to see him still gazing at her. He regarded her as if he were contemplating some weighty matter like the beginning of time or something just as grave.
“What?” she asked perturbed. “Why are you glaring at me so?”
He pursed his lips, stood, and walked across the room. She frowned, feeling a bit guilty. She had been a bit hard on him, but at least he was leaving. She did not need him here. He disturbed her to the point of—
She stiffened at the sound of the door clicking closed followed by a quick snap of the lock. The duke turned around and his interested gaze flickered over her as he stuffed the key into his waistcoat pocket.
Her mind reeled at the very gall of the man locking her inside the room with him, and she found herself momentarily speechless. Her heart raced wildly when that devilishly handsome face smiled back at her.
Finally, she found her tongue. “This is most improper. I demand you open that door immediately.”
He lifted a black brow in amusement. “Is that a command, Miss Greenwell?”
Her jaw dropped in shock at the velvety huskiness in his voice.
The next moment, she curled her hands into two fists and glared at him. Oh, this man was dangerous indeed. He was a man who liked to control everything about him, including her. Yet, he loved his mother and was not afraid to show that love. He was no monster, just an arrogant, softhearted duke who thought all should bow to his commands.
She had heard stories about him and the rest of the Clearbrook brothers. They raced horses. They romanced women. They drank heavily, and they played cards to their hearts’ content. They lived a life of freedom with no attachments, especially to women. Yet here the duke stood ready to marry his sister off to whomever he chose. Poor Emily, Jane thought, feeling the anger build inside her. No woman should have to marry a man she did not love. Her mother was proof of that.
Oh, she was attracted to the man. What woman wouldn’t be? But she would not let him lead her around by her nose. This mighty duke was not going to tell her what to do. It was obvious he enjoyed control and power. Was he not trying to run Emily’s life? And now, he thought to make her swoon by his commanding presence? Well, he had the wrong woman for that!
Her mouth drew into a thin line of disapproval. “I repeat, I demand you open that door.”
Chuckling, he strode toward her. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her heartbeat drummed in her ears, but she refused to panic.
Yet that hint of laughter irked her to no end.
She flashed him a mutinous glare as he towered over her.
Gray eyes twinkled back at her. “You, Miss Greenwell, seem quite sweet, but you cannot hide your temper, can you?”
She blinked. That was the last thing she thought he would say. “And you are abominable.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
She swallowed tightly, watching his Adam’s apple bob. His laugh was rich and deep, a combination that sent her senses spinning. “I do not find this funny in the least, Your Grace.”
“Ah, now I am Your Grace. For some reason, I think you do not care a whit about what kind of title I hold, do you?”
“Why should I care about a title?”
His lips fell into an easy smile. “You truly don’t care, do you?”
“All I care about is you opening that door.”
She continued to glare at him, feeling an unfamiliar dizziness assault her. He was doing funny things to her stomach too. Good grief, he was coming closer!
He sank beside her, his leg brushing against her skirt. The air around them sizzled. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I think you like me, Miss Greenwell.”
The silkiness of his declaration sent a shiver down her spine. She pressed herself against the corner of the sofa, but had no more room to move. “Y-You are a barbarian. I demand you take another seat!”
Laughing, he took her needlework from her lap and set it on the mahogany tea table in front of them. “I certainly have no wish to have a needle in my stomach when I kiss you, Miss Greenwell.”
Her head jerked. “Kiss me?”
She shot up, but without warning, he caught her by her wrists, yanking her against him. His warm breath fanned her face.
“Yes,” he said, softly, looking into her eyes. “I am going to kiss you.”
For a second she froze, staring at those enticing lips. No. No. No. He was too tempting. Too dangerous. And too autocratic for the likes of her. And to say he was bold was an understatement. This was just not done! Where was Agatha when she needed her?
“I do not believe that would be a good idea,” she said, trying to calm her swirling emotions as she pushed against his broad chest.
“Oh? I think it would be a very good idea,” he said, all amusement gone.
Before she could protest again, he pressed his warm lips against hers. His kiss was like a whisper of silk, gentle and soft. Nothing in her brain registered except the touch of her mouth against his. Her thoughts swirled as if she were flying through a cloud of bliss. Then suddenly, as soon as it started, it stopped, shaking the very core of her being.
In one swift move, he rose, settling her back onto the sofa. He stared at her and mumbled something as he pushed a stiff hand through his black hair.
“Well,” he drawled. “I believe that sizes up the matter, don’t you think?”
She felt her cheeks dot with color. What on earth had just happened?
“What matter is that?” she finally asked, grabbing her needlework off the table, feeling her brain starting to function again.
Goodness! She could barely keep her hands from shaking. She would stick him with her needle if he dare tried that again
! She may have liked it, but it did not mean she would let him take liberties. She was no opera dancer whom he could kiss back stage. No indeed! He may be powerful and strong and handsome, but she did not need him. She did not need any man. She was safe with Agatha and that was that.
“The matter of our marriage,” he replied, pulling her from her thoughts.
Furious, she looked up. “If this is your idea of a joke, I do not find it amusing in the least.”
He stared down at her, his gray eyes softening. “Jane, you must call me Roderick if we are to be man and wife.”
He had barely uttered the words before he turned around and started for the door.
“WHAT?” she screeched.
His shoulders seemed to shake with laughter when he spoke. “You heard me.”
She gripped her needle and stuck herself. “Look at me, you…you…! I am talking to you! I do not care if you are the duke or the king! You will look at me when you address me with such a comment!”
He glanced over his shoulder. “My, my, you do have a temper. No one knows that, do they? Well, it will be our little secret, now, won’t it?”
Jane curled her hands against her skirt. Who did he think he was? He treated her as if that they were engaged already. “I will not be your bride! I am no puppet! Do you think I care if you are a duke?”
His black brows slammed together, as if he had not expected such an outburst. “I am a duke. Make no doubt about that.” He looked her over, his eyes blazing with fire. “But by Jove, I am also a man.”
The suggestive look in his eyes shot straight to her toes.
Her heart almost stopped beating. Before she could reply, he had already departed from the room.
Roderick tried to keep his composure as he walked into the hall. Devil take it! Miss Jane Greenwell had no inkling the effect she had on him. She was the first female he had met who did not care if he was a duke or not. He smirked. In fact, had she not called him an odious barbarian? A monster?
He let out a snort of laughter. He had enjoyed her spunk in the village and now at Hemmingly Hall.
Her blond hair and blue eyes only added to her charm. She held a quiet beauty that intrigued him. And her stubbornness was a quality that might prove well in a duchess.
They would have some feisty arguments, but he would win her over. He frowned, staring blankly at the wall before him. Thunder and Zeus! The lady could have him groveling at her feet if he were not careful. But he was a duke. He would never grovel for anyone. Ever.
Oh, he would love his wife. But as a duke, it had been schooled into him that command of the situation is what mattered most. Discipline, power, and control were the tools to do just that.
He had allowed love to override his authority once before, and he had paid the price for his softening stance. He had begged Cecile to listen to him, but it had been to no avail. It was war, she had said. They were in reconnaissance. She was going to make her decision as she saw fit. Later that day, she had been killed.
Never again, he thought with a scowl. The guilt was too much to bear. He would die before he let anything happen to someone he loved. If he had the power to keep them safe, he would.
After his father had died, the dukedom had given him the authority to influence most things in his life. So, it would be with his wife and the rest of his family. That was why his sister would marry the man he had chosen for her. And that was why Jane would eventually marry him. He was a fair man, but once he made a decision, he never backed away. Miss Jane Greenwell would eventually understand that in time.
Chapter Two
Five years later
There was a slight chill in the air, and it had nothing to do with Mother Nature.
Jane, the Duchess of Elbourne, had a niggling suspicion the whispers bouncing off the walls of the illustrious Pump Room in Bath were about her and the duke. A Mozart concerto drifted to her ears while the fragrance of sandalwood and rosewater teased her nostrils. But the refinement of her senses only increased her awareness of the suffocating crowd and the pitying looks directed her way.
“Poor thing,” a voice echoed softly behind her.
“Poor man, if you ask me.”
“Married the girl, but never loved her.”
“He may want another wife. Would have grounds to divorce her, don’t you think?”
“No heir. No spare. Not even a girl-child to console the man.”
Jane’s chest tightened with grief. She wanted to weep. She had thought Roderick had loved her. What had happened to them?
She could not give him an heir, that’s what had happened. At least, that’s what Society was saying. But she had vowed not to let Society upset her again. Yet she could not deny the pain that lodged in her soul.
Her heart sped with unease as she searched for her sister-in-law Emily. They had been separated from one another almost immediately after they had entered the Pump Room.
As Jane moved about the crowd, memories of her parents’ death kept running through her brain. Her world had been turned upside when they had died. Her father’s passing had soon been followed by his wife’s suspicious drowning in the Thames. There had been rumors of infidelity on both accounts. Lovers, fights, and jealously too. And possibly even murder.
Had her parents ever loved each other? She didn’t know. They had been in a marriage of convenience, after all. But as a child, the hushed whispers, the darted glances, the snide remarks, had changed her life.
For years, she had buried the painful feelings to the back of her mind.
She had told herself she would never have a marriage of convenience, or anything that ever resembled it. But now, doubt and doom played havoc with her heart.
When she had married Roderick over four years ago, almost immediately after Emily and Jared had wed, she had been so much in love with Roderick and he with her, their faults had become nothing but a nuisance. Or so she thought.
Hot tears pricked the back of her lids. The fact was, she was human, and the rumors were starting to destroy her self-confidence. Her babies had been lost to her before they had ever been born. And now, Roderick seemed lost to her as well.
Did he still love her? Was he seeing someone else? Or was he sorry he had ever married her?
Her stomach churned at the very idea of living like her parents. Was Roderick comfortable with a convenient marriage since his parents had experienced the same? The horror of such an absence of love made her ill. A marriage of convenience would slowly chip away at her soul until there was nothing left.
The sound of a sweet concerto brought her back to the present. She observed the string quartet in the corner of the room. Her heart pinched when a group of young ladies grinned back at her. Fake smiles, she thought sadly. Smiles that hoped she would fall flat on her face.
Jane lifted her chin and smiled back, as if she had not a care in the world. She thought she saw Emily at the other end of the room, and her heart gave a little skip.
She started moving in her friend’s direction, but the cruel conversation seemed to follow her. Lady Horatio and Lady Philomena were directly behind her. She had seen them out of the corner of her eye. Their unkind words speared her heart. But she would not give them the satisfaction of knowing it.
“Dreadful thing about the duke’s loss.”
“Have you seen the way he treats her now?”
“Yes, yes, as if she has a disease.”
“Poor man. What else can he do?”
“She is no longer a beauty with those extra pounds.”
“Hear the king is asking about an heir to the dukedom as well.”
Jane’s breath caught in her throat. She was fooling herself. She was not immune to Society’s gossip. When she had walked out the door this morning, she had no idea her misfortune of losing another baby would be mentioned publicly. She was wrong.
No doubt, these ladies were spreading the news all over Bath and London. Jane wanted to turn around and confront them. But how could she? What they were saying was
true. Mean, cruel, and even heartbreaking, but true.
She smiled to no one in particular and patted the blond ringlets framing her face. Her blue eyes sparkled with tears, but she would not give Society the pleasure of watching her cry. It’s what they lived for. Oh, they said they came to drink the healing waters, but what they really wanted was the juicy gossip, and Lady Horatio and Lady Philomena made certain there was plenty of that.
The older ladies were hard to miss, even in the mass of people. Lady Horatio was short and plump with an orange turban on her head. Lady Philomena was tall and thin with a flock of blue feathers arranged in her black-gray hair.
“Yes, the poor, poor thing, and the duke such a handsome specimen too.”
Jane looked over her shoulder. Her resolve not to speak suddenly vanished. Anger bubbled inside her. She glared at the women, waiting for them to acknowledge her.
But the two ladies never made eye contact. They had no idea she was standing before them! They were too wrapped up in their own little world. They were spreading news about everything, including a magnificent story about the king appearing at the Pump Room today. Whether it was true or not, Jane guessed that was why everyone was here.
Her hands curled at her sides, and she spun back around, trying to count to ten and continue toward Emily. Her sister-in-law had come with her today, thinking the waters would help Jane out of her doldrums.
However, Jane suspected Emily knew all about her marital troubles and had been ashamed how her brother Roderick had been treating his wife.
Oh, Jane thought, Roderick never beat her. He had never hit a female in his entire life. He wasn’t that kind of man. But he never touched her anymore like a husband should either. His aloofness hurt her most of all. She wondered if love could be that fleeting. She loved the man, but sometimes he acted like a pompous, arrogant peer of the realm!
She clenched her teeth as she moved about the Pump Room. There would be no marriage of convenience for her, no matter what Roderick wanted or what his reasons were. She had seen the ramifications of what that kind of marriage did to people, and she would not be part of it. Not now. Not ever.
The Duke's Bride: Book 5 (The Clearbrooks) Page 2
