The Duke Is a Devil

by Karen Lingefelt

  “Then why didn’t you just sleep in that bed with me? I mean, considering what happened in any event, what difference would it have made?”

  “It would have made a world of difference,” he replied. “You don’t call me a devil for nothing. The temptation might have been too great. I had to leave you there.”

  She opened her eyes a little wider. “So you’re saying that you want me?”

  “Of course I want you, Cecily! I’m not whatever Lady Cordelia wants you to think I am. Why do you think I behaved the way I did that day at Bradbury Park, at which point you fled?”

  Her cheeks went pink again. “Did you really want me even then, or were you only hoping to take advantage of me by promising to stop that book being published? And more importantly—” Now she sat up and forward. “Would you have stopped its publication?”

  “You are feeling better, aren’t you?”

  “Would you...?”

  “You ask a good question, Cecily.”

  “Oh, I can ask an even better one. Would you have expected a mere kiss? Or something more?”

  Dane honestly didn’t know what to say in response to that, except, “You’re right. That is a better question.”

  “Something that might have driven you, instead of me, out of that dining room?”

  “Only with you in my wicked embrace. And up the staircase.”

  “And then, having done so, you would have stopped the book?”

  “And then, having done so, I would have married you,” he countered.

  “And then stopped the book?”

  Dane silently cursed. Why did everything to do with her have to hinge on that blasted book she wrote?

  “I’m a man of my word,” he finally said. “Of course, after that, I would have stopped the book. And now, if you don’t mind, I think this might be a good time to take that nap.” So saying, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamland where Cecily stood before him and opened her dressing gown to show him her nude body.

  If I do this, will you stop that book? she asked.

  He said no.

  She fondled her breasts and plucked at her nipples. What if I did this? Will you stop that book now?

  Of course he wouldn’t. He wanted more from her.

  She let the dressing gown slip from her shoulders before sprawling across the length of the sofa. How about now? I always drove Howland mad whenever I did this. Or did she say Harcourt? As she closed her eyes and slipped her fingers into the dark thatch between her thighs, Dane felt a sudden urge to kill the other man—or at least beat him to a pulp—and then his eyes snapped open. Cecily sat partially slumped on the opposite seat, fully clothed even to her green capote bonnet, gloved hands folded in her lap. Her head tilted to one side, as if ready to tumble off her shoulders. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth hung wide open. She took a noisy, gravelly breath and then sighed.

  Dane couldn’t help thinking she was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

  He couldn’t resist. He leaned forward, thinking he would kiss her awake, when a sudden banging on the door pushed him back and startled Cecily awake and upright with a long, loud snort. “What’s that?” she squawked.

  “We seem to have stopped.”

  The door swung open to reveal his uncle Frampton, who looked from one to the other. “Not a hair out of place, I see. Then I must have interrupted a very interesting conversation, for neither of you seem aware that we’ve arrived at Ashdown Park.”

  “I must have fallen asleep,” Cecily said, glancing down at herself as if to confirm Frampton’s observation that indeed, nothing was out of place. As if she suspected Dane might have tried to have his devilish way with her while she dozed.

  Well, he did try, just now. “How long since we stopped?”

  “Long enough that we thought the two of you might be otherwise engaged.” Frampton turned and walked away, leaving the door open.

  “Were you sleeping all this time?” she asked Dane.

  “Yes. Upon my honor—if a devil could be said to have any—I have not put a finger on you since I helped you into this carriage at our last stop.”

  She regarded him askance. “What about other parts of yourself?”

  “No other parts. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought you might have kissed me awake just now.”

  “No, I’m afraid Frampton knocked you awake. Maybe you dreamed that I kissed you?”

  “If I did, then why did he have to wake me up at the precise moment—” She said no more, but her frustration was evident.

  He softened his voice. “Then would you like me to kiss you now?”

  She didn’t even hesitate. “Only if you close that door first.”

  He leaned over to close it.

  Then he leaned toward Cecily, sliding his fingertips under her chin, gently lifting it as he lowered his lips to hers that were still parted.

  He already knew she wasn’t going to taste as sweet as she had the last time he kissed her, but he wasn’t about to let something like that stand in the way of another opportunity to—

  Suddenly she gasped and bolted upright, knocking her head against his.

  Dane snarled and snapped back against the opposite seat as he rubbed his sore brow, while Cecily shrieked and bent over as she presumably did the same.

  “What was that about?” he demanded. “Did it just now occur to you that—that—” Alas, there was no tactful way to finish that sentence.

  She kept her head down, her voice slightly muffled. “That what?”

  “I thought you might have read my mind for once. You cast up last night’s accounts this morning, did you not? And whatever eau de futilité you used afterward didn’t quite—”

  “Ugghh!” She kept her head down.

  “But I was willing to kiss you anyway, Cecily. I only thought—”

  “You think my breath smells horrible! Not to mention my hair. You must have known the whole time!”

  “I did. And...it does.”

  “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

  Because he loved her, in spite of her offensive breath? Or because, like any other red-blooded male—as if there were any with blood of a different color—he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to—well—take advantage of her.

  If he told her the latter, she’d only hit him over the head with her reticule, even if that wouldn’t have quite the same effect as her own head.

  But could he, in all honesty, proclaim the former?

  Or maybe he could just ignore the question and pretend he didn’t hear it. Dukes could do things like that. Dukes and cowards.

  He reached over to open the door. Cold, damp air wafted in. Cecily sprang from the seat toward the open doorway. She might have made it out of the barouche in a single bound if she hadn’t knocked heads with Dane again. This time he saw stars.

  Cecily, however, practically fell out of the barouche, landing almost facedown in the sodden forecourt.

  He swiftly leaped out to help her back to her feet. Mud spatters freckled her face and dappled her green pelisse.

  “Not again!” she cried. “Why do these things always happen around you?”

  He was taken aback. “Why do these things...?”

  “You heard me. And if you didn’t, you should have read my accompanying thoughts. Why do they always happen around you?”

  He stared at her in bewilderment as he rubbed his sore temple. “For once I failed to accurately read your mind. I fear you may have knocked the ability right out of my brain box. You mean you’re not wondering why ‘these things’ always happen to you? Only why they always happen when I’m around?”

  “Yes! Precisely. I already know these things always happen to me. I would only like to know why they seem to happen more frequently when you’re in the immediate vicinity.”

  “As if you suspect I have a hand in such things?”

  “So it would seem.”

  “Well, Cecily, you’ve said it yourself. You’ve certainly written it.
I’m a devil. I live to visit evil and misery and even wanton wickedness upon your soul. But I suppose I should ask a very important question of you—which of your feet did you injure this time, and how?”

  She made a growling noise and stormed away. He was gratified to note she wasn’t limping.

  “Look on the bright side,” he called after her. “You’re starting to become more unpredictable.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  This was not how Cecily planned to make a first impression on her long-lost cousins. She suspected the only reason they didn’t storm back into the house and slam the door in her face was because the Duke of Bradbury stood right next to her.

  She longed to flee, even if it was just to the other side of the barouche. Indeed, she might have plunged back into the barouche, and head first, too, if Dane didn’t have such a firm grip on her elbow.

  The Countess of Ashdown hastened forward. “Are you quite all right...uhh...Your Grace?”

  The Earl of Ashdown, who looked to be about the same age as Dane, said, “Welcome back to Ashdown Park, Your Grace. ’Tis always an honor to receive you here.”

  “And I am glad to be here. As for my traveling companion, I’m not so certain. May I make known to you my neighbor, Miss Cecily Logan? I believe she is a long-lost cousin of yours.”

  The earl and countess peered at Cecily for what seemed a rather long moment to her, as if they were trying to make up their minds whether they should acknowledge this mud-splattered stranger as their kin.

  The countess suddenly appeared to snap out of her skeptical trance. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Cecily? I’ve long desired to make your acquaintance! Do come in, won’t you? I am so sorry for what happened just now. Are you quite all right?” She reached for Cecily’s free arm just as Dane released her other.

  Now was Cecily’s chance to flee. Instead, she lurched toward the countess, who appeared to be the same age as Cecily, plump with the merriest of brown eyes. “I’m fine. Just embarrassed, though I don’t know why I should be. I seem to fall down a great deal.”

  “All the more reason we’re glad you’re here!” Lady Ashdown replied, as she led Cecily away from the duke and earl. “You’ve broken the ice already, though I daresay it was unwitting. I’m not sure I would have known what to do if you were so very prim and proper.”

  “I can’t be too prim and proper if I’m traveling with the duke minus a chaperone.”

  “Then you’re not married to him? I mean, when you stepped out of the barouche—”

  “I fell out. You can say it, my lady. I fell out.”

  “When you fell out, and then he—well, he leaped out. At once I assumed he must have finally found his duchess...”

  That might explain why she’d tentatively and initially addressed Cecily as “Your Grace.”

  Lady Ashdown went on, “But then when he introduced you as our long-lost cousin, Miss Logan, then I had to wonder if the marriage was so recent that he hadn’t yet accustomed himself to introducing you by your married title.”

  Cecily couldn’t help smiling at that. “No, my lady, I’m afraid I’m still Miss Logan, the long-lost cousin.”

  “But I’m so glad you’re not lost anymore. And do call me Grace. And my husband, your cousin, is Hugh.”

  “Then please call me Cecily.”

  “Cecily! Oh, I can’t believe we haven’t met before now. It’ll be like having another sister. I miss my own. Charlotte and her husband, Lord Ethan Lovell, now live on the Continent. He’s with the British legation in Petrovia, Lasotania. Perhaps you’re aware that your duke is related to their new king.” Bradbury’s grandmother had been a princess who was also the grandmother of the aforementioned new king.

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t call him ‘my’ duke,” Cecily said ruefully.

  “No? Well, we should have plenty of time later on to discuss that. I’m sure you’d like to get cleaned up first.”

  “I will not dispute that,” Cecily replied.

  Grace personally led Cecily upstairs to her assigned bedchamber that was much more sumptuous than the so-called “former monk’s cell” she’d had for her first night at Tyndall Abbey, but not quite as luxurious as her accommodations for the second night.

  “Perhaps you’d like a bath?” Grace queried. “There’s plenty of time before dinner.”

  “I’d like that very much indeed. Also the chance to clean my teeth. Perhaps you’ve noticed already that my breath is very disagreeable.”

  “If I did, I would never say anything.” Grace held up her right hand as if to swear to this, and might have placed her left on a Bible had one been available.

  Cecily unbuttoned her pelisse. “It’s just that I imbibed a bit too much brandy last night, with the result that I was violently ill this morning, though at midday I did manage a bit of lamb stew. But we left Tyndall Abbey so hastily that I didn’t have the chance to do more than gargle with the last of my cologne.”

  “Those of us who have had to travel for more than two nights on the road are quite familiar with that dilemma,” Grace reassured her. “Even without being sick, it’s next to impossible to remain impeccably groomed while traveling. I don’t doubt that even His Grace is requesting a bath at this very moment. Fortunately, we have more than one tub.”

  “But unlike me, he wasn’t sick this morning. Indeed, I found nothing objectionable about him on the journey, until he thought to kiss me though I reeked.” Cecily shuddered at the mortifying memory. She wondered if she would ever have any memory of him that didn’t make her shudder with mortification.

  Oh, there was always the moment when he rescued her from the treehouse, and she instantly fell in love with him at that point...but then it was ruined after he brought her home and left, at which point she was punished for getting into such trouble that she had to make a nuisance of herself to him. But everything since had led to nothing but even more trouble.

  Grace broke into her reverie. “Will you be continuing to London with the duke? You’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you like. I’m expecting our second child before the end of the year, and our first is almost a year and a half.”

  This might be the perfect solution if for some reason Bradbury didn’t marry Cecily, after all. To her, that idea was still as real—or unreal—as the happily ever after she’d penned for Madfury and Catriona.

  With that in mind, she said, “It so happens I may need a new situation, and very soon. I’d be happy to offer any help you might need with your babies.” She hesitated, shrugging off her pelisse, and added, “I was once a governess.”

  Grace smiled. “We do have a nurse, but we’ll certainly need a governess a few years hence, especially if this new baby is a girl. In the meantime, know that you are family, Cecily, and there is more than enough room for you here at Ashdown Park. If you like to read, we have one of the best libraries in Northamptonshire.”

  This was almost too good to be true. If Bradbury wouldn’t halt the publication of that book—or marry Cecily—then she had an ideal place to hide for the rest of her life, if necessary. She dared not pinch herself, for fear she might wake up and find herself back at Uncle Willard’s, with Harry trying to break down her door. And why would she even want to pinch herself, anyway?

  Then Grace did it for her, in a manner of speaking. “Where were you governess, and when?”

  Cecily clasped her hands together. “Until May of last year, I was governess to Lord Sanford’s granddaughters.”

  “Oh? And how long were you there?”

  Cecily should have known that being considered family wouldn’t excuse her from the usual interrogation of a prospective governess. “Three years,” she said lightly, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary about that.

  “Why did you leave?”

  Cecily’s hands were still together, but instead of being clasped, she rubbed them nervously around each other. “I’m afraid that Lord Sanford’s younger son paid a bit too much attention to me, even though he was far too old for a g
overness.”

  “He tried to have his way with you?” Grace gently placed a hand on Cecily’s arm. “Did he hurt you?”

  Cecily shook her head. “Not at all, and maybe that’s the trouble.”

  A long pause followed, then, “You welcomed his attentions.” It was very much a statement, not a question at all. Yet Cecily tried and failed to find even a hint of accusation in Grace’s tone.

  “He was going back to his regiment, and said he might never return. And he didn’t. He was killed only a few weeks later at Waterloo. Still, I shouldn’t have encouraged him. I knew it then, but he—he was the first and only gentleman who—well, nothing of great import happened.” No, it wasn’t as if she’d ever been in the lordling’s bed even if the lordling had spent the night elsewhere. Lord Septimus had never seen her in her shift, as Bradbury had this morning. He’d never insisted that she touch the falls on his breeches, or lift her skirts for him, as Harry had done on more than one occasion. No, he only wanted a little kiss.

  “But you were given notice all the same,” said Grace. “I suppose his mother caught the two of you and accused you of trying to seduce her helpless, defenseless little boy of more than one and twenty years?”

  “No, the Duke of Bradbury is the one who caught us,” Cecily said, trying and failing to keep the sourness out of her voice.

  Grace looked taken aback. “The same Duke of Bradbury who just brought you here? Well, of course. This only happened last year, you say, and he’s been duke for quite a few years now.”

  “Only hours later, Lady Sanford handed me my notice. And it was back to Uncle Willard and Aunt Thea, who informed me that I could only stay with them until their youngest daughter, Rebecca, found a husband, unless I happened to find one first. Vicar Eastman indicated an interest in me until a week ago, when he suddenly switched his affections to none other than Rebecca—and at the behest, I might add, of none other than...guess who?” For if the duke hadn’t propositioned her in his dining room she would never have had the accident that led the vicar to assume the worst.