The Duke Is a Devil

by Karen Lingefelt

  “Oh, why must you always laugh at me, as if I’m an object of scorn?”

  He abruptly sobered. “Did we not discuss this the other day?”

  “Most likely, but there were so many other things happening...”

  “So there were. Fair enough. Let me say it again. I do not consider you an object of scorn, and I never have—unlike some of our mutual relatives, I should remind you.”

  She looked startled and even a bit chastened at that, as if realizing, though loath to admit it, that he raised a very good point.

  “If I ever considered you an object of scorn, Cecily, then I would never find amusing some of the things you say and do. I would never even give you the time of day. I could have been disgusted and repulsed by the ink stains on your face, the accounts you cast up, your amazing talent for falling into a ha-ha and stubbing your toe on a suit of armor and knocking the whole thing over. Why, I might even have left you to starve to death in that treehouse. Is that not what Harry intended at the time?”

  She faltered, looking very much as if she wished to cry. Dane longed to take her into his arms, but he had an unpleasant feeling that she would only push him away.

  “You deceived me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she feared she might burst out weeping if she spoke any louder. “They only wanted that book published so they could reap any profits from it. I hoped you would stop publication to prevent that happening.”

  “I only prevented them from reaping those profits,” Dane assured her. “You will be the one to reap the profits. You and no one else, Cecily. The publisher, worried about the possibility of libel, wisely consulted my solicitors —or what you might refer to as my ‘ducal powers’...” He made sure to lift his hands and waggle his fingers at that, but her somber gaze was fixed elsewhere, “...before proceeding any further with publication. My ducal powers persuaded the publisher to withdraw their offer to Harry and Willard, and make one to me.”

  She shifted her gaze back to him. “At which point you should have returned the manuscript to me so I could burn it once and for all.”

  “Perhaps I should have. But—”

  “There is no perhaps about it. You should have. I’ve said a hundred times that I never meant for it to see the light of day. I never meant for anyone to see it, especially you.”

  “Why? Because you fear what I might think of you after having read it?”

  “Then you did read it?”

  “Well, of course. And I must say it’s the most entertaining thing I’ve ever read.”

  She turned scarlet and spun away. “Lady Frampton said you did it to seduce me.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Though in all honesty, he couldn’t deny it, either.

  “Of course you wouldn’t. Evie thinks you did it to lead me on some sort of merry chase.”

  “That I would certainly say. But I will concede now that I should have returned it to you as soon as it came into my possession, and without reading a word of it. That was quite dastardly of me, and I would not blame you one bit if you chose to retaliate by ending our betrothal before it is even barely official.”

  “Maybe that’s what you’re hoping I’ll do,” she retorted. “After all, as a duke who should be able to do as he pleases, why would you want to be forced to marry me because you ruined me? Indeed, that’s what everyone is going to think this evening.”

  “Indeed, you say?”

  “That, or they’re going to wonder why I would marry a man who seems to have ruined another lady.”

  “Oh, they won’t wonder that at all,” Dane replied. “Admit it, Cecily. Even if such a woman existed, you’d still marry me because I’m a duke.”

  “Is that why you think I’m marrying you?” she cried. “Because you’re a duke? Or because you ruined me?”

  “I’d like to think you’re marrying me because you love me.” And to his bewilderment, she had yet to say that she did.

  “But no one else is going to think that, and don’t bother exhorting me to ignore what anyone else thinks. That would be simple were it not for that book. The Duke Is a Devil, by The Lady He Ruined. What else do you expect everyone to think when they see that?”

  “No one is going to think that, because it just so happens I asked the publisher to change the author’s identity.”

  “To what? Surely not my own name?”

  “I thought to make it a surprise. I was hoping to give you the final edition of the book this evening, but the publisher sent a message this afternoon, informing me that it was still at the printer’s and it might not be ready till the morrow.”

  She slowly turned halfway, her head down, still not quite facing him. “Then it isn’t—out there yet?”

  “Not till next week, the publisher tells me.”

  “So I have all that time yet to fret about it. But I do believe I’ve had enough surprises to last a lifetime.” She kept her arms locked to her sides, her fists clenched. She stood ramrod straight, yet he could barely discern a slight quiver in her shoulders.

  Guilt lanced him. If he hadn’t broken her heart, he’d certainly ripped it. This duke was truly a devil. He ventured a single step toward her and as much as he longed to do so, he still didn’t dare to touch her, fearing the slightest touch would be unwelcome at this moment.

  He could only speak, and from the heart. “Cecily, you have a rare gift. I saw it in that book. I’ve told you before I won’t be hurt by its content. No one else will, either. Few women have done what you have, accomplished what you have. And you should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

  “They—”

  “Never mind what they say or think. They’re angry or scornful because they can’t do what you’ve done. They don’t have your courage or imagination. They don’t possess whatever possesses you to do something out of the ordinary. In that sense, you’re far ahead of just about everyone who will be here this evening. And I’ll tell you something else: I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished. It only makes me love you all the more.”

  Finally, she turned and lifted her head to face him with those enormous blue eyes that glistened in the candlelight.

  He added, “What you’ve accomplished will make me even prouder to be married to you. You deserve your success. That’s why I’ve made arrangements with my solicitors that any profits from that book will be yours to do with as you please.”

  Her eyes flicked from one side to another as she contemplated that, and then she said, “Even though by law, everything I have will belong to you—those profits, that book...” She touched the diamond necklace that glittered around her throat, “...this necklace you just gave to me. Even my gloves, my bonnet...”

  “The money will be yours, Cecily, however much it is,” Dane said earnestly. “Even if the book doesn’t sell a single copy—if it’s all for naught financially—as my wife, my duchess, you will still never want for anything.”

  She faltered, her arms no longer locked at her sides, her hands no longer clenched as if in readiness to pound them on his chest in futile but feminine fury. Instead she raised them, clasped together as if in prayer or supplication.

  “It all seems too good to be true,” she murmured. “I never dreamed any of this could be possible.”

  He ventured a wry smile. “Which raises the question of why you would try to fight it all this time? As if you think it isn’t meant to be—ah, you’re nodding. Only why would you think it isn’t meant to be?”

  Her lower lip trembled as she pondered that further before saying, “Maybe I don’t think I deserve it. I’m not worthy of love or success or—”

  “But you are,” he said firmly. “You may think no one else knows that or believes it, but I do, Cecily. You need only believe it of yourself, and to believe in yourself.”

  “Lady Ashdown said almost the same thing,” she said, her voice on the verge of breaking. “No one else has ever said that to me, except...”

  “She’s right. Listen to her if you won’t listen to me
.”

  “Except you. Oh, Dane,” she whispered, lifting her clasped hands almost to her face, and she swayed forward ever so slightly, as if she were about to fall against him.

  But he was there for her, just as he was always there for her.

  With that in mind, he stepped forward and finally took her into his arms. He felt his heart lighten as she welcomed his embrace, wrapping her own arms around him by sliding her hands inside his black superfine coat and reaching for the satin back of his waistcoat. She rested her head against his heartbeat and he nuzzled her chestnut hair that was as impeccably coiffed as it was that night at Ashdown Park. He breathed deeply the scent of roses.

  “I’m here for you, Cecily, always,” he murmured. “Don’t you know I’ve always been here for you? And I always will be.”

  “I’ve been a fool.”

  He chuckled and kissed her on the brow. “No, you’ve only been Cecily. And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  She tilted her head up to meet his loving gaze, and he cupped her cheeks in both of his hands as he kissed her on the lips. “Soon our guests will be arriving,” he said. “We shall stand in the front hall, and you will be formally introduced to each one.”

  She emitted a tremulous little sigh. “I can’t help feeling a bit apprehensive about it all.”

  “You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I have faith in you, Cecily. I always have. Now you need to have faith in me. Let everyone else think I’m the devil of a duke in that book. You know better.” He paused, gazing deeply into her eyes. “You do know better now, do you not?”

  She took a deep breath, just as quivery as the sigh. “By now, I should certainly hope so. And henceforth, I shall endeavor to be as unpredictable as possible.”

  He cocked a mischievous brow. “Ah, but I thought you didn’t care for surprises?” His tone was light and teasing.

  “Usually I don’t. But you seem to take great delight in them.” She tilted her head to one side. “How did you expect me to react to all of this? Did you think I would jilt you?”

  “Truth be told, I had no idea,” he confessed. “I was always optimistic that you would be pleased. I did have doubts for a few moments just now. Certainly I was taken aback by the fact that you confronted me with the truth first, thanks to my sister-in-law and her sister-in-law. But I do believe everything turned out as it should. Everything will turn out as it should—unless you dare to do something unpredictable again. Or even if you dare.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “I hope you do,” he replied, as someone rapped at the door.

  “Your Grace, the guests are arriving,” announced Osbert.

  He took Cecily by the elbow. “Shall we?”

  She smiled up at him. “Let’s.”

  Receiving all of the guests must have taken close to an hour. Even Willard and Thea showed up with Rebecca, as well as their married daughter, Marianne, and her husband, Lord Pilkington, followed by his widowed mother and sister Pippa. Dane was relieved to see Harry nowhere in sight.

  Willard made the minimum required acknowledgement of Cecily, muttering only, “Niece,” with the slightest inclination of his head before he moved on.

  “Anything more than that might kill him,” Dane murmured in Cecily’s ear, and she sniffed a discreet little snicker. Oh, she would make a splendid duchess.

  Thea, on the other hand, gushed over Cecily. “Your mother would be so proud of you today, if only she were still here.”

  Cecily stared at her aunt for a moment, and furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Who are you and how did you know my late mother?”

  Thea bristled, as Dane chuckled.

  “Do you not recognize me, Cecily? Maybe not, since I scarcely recognize you in all this finery,” her aunt huffed. “But you’ve lived with us for years, ever since your parents—well, but I daresay that’s how you came to be acquainted with the duke here, since he was our neighbor. I am your mother’s sister, your Aunt Thea. And that was your Uncle Willard just now.”

  “He didn’t seem to recognize me, either. Then again, he never quite recognized me even when I was residing under his roof all these years. But yes, I suppose you do look familiar to me now. It’s just that you don’t sound familiar.”

  Thea yanked her younger daughter forward. “Oh, but surely you recall your cousin Rebecca? And Marianne?”

  Cecily confirmed that she did. They moved on, to be followed by a willowy, blue-eyed blonde dressed in purple.

  “Mrs. Frey,” said Dane. “So glad you could come. May I present Miss Cecily Logan? My dear, may I make known to you Mrs. Cassandra Frey.”

  They exchanged the customary how-do-you-do, and then Cassandra said, “You do know Bradbury’s been jilted several times before, and that someone has even written a book about it?”

  Dane longed to intervene here, but decided to wait and see how Cecily dealt with this.

  “Of course I know that,” she replied. “We country girls aren’t entirely naïve. And I must congratulate you, Mrs. Frey.”

  Cassandra looked genuinely puzzled. “Oh? To what do I owe your congratulations?”

  “You are the first guest—and a few hundred have passed through already—to have mentioned that book.”

  Cassandra now looked sincerely astonished. “Indeed? Would you believe I almost didn’t mention it for fear everyone else might have done so already? Alas, I couldn’t resist.” She flashed a smile at Dane who, not for the first time, was glad they never married.

  “I for one did not think anyone would dare mention it to her,” he said. “Certainly not while I’m standing next to her.”

  “Excellent point.” Cassandra glanced back at Cecily. “Or maybe I couldn’t resist because one of the characters in the book is supposedly based upon me. But I’m sure Bradbury has told you all about me, already.”

  “I didn’t have to, Mrs. Frey,” said Dane. “No one needs to be told about you. Everyone just seems to know already.”

  Cassandra laughed lightly and returned her attention to Cecily. “So I simply must ask, Miss Logan—why would you marry Bradbury knowing he’s ruined a young lady he’s refused to marry—according to this scandalous book, in any event? Does that not trouble you?”

  “That might depend on the identity of the young lady,” Cecily replied. “Mayhap she isn’t young at all. It could be she’s not even a lady, not now, but perhaps she was at one time. Possibly she’s a widow, but still considered rather young for a widow.”

  Cassandra nodded. “Indeed, there are many in the ton who believe me to be the author, a testament to how scandalous the book is—but I have no talent for writing, Miss Logan. And Bradbury may have told you that I never jilted him for Mr. Frey or...” Here she trailed off, which Dane thought was unlike her.

  “Lord Whidbey?” he suggested. “It might interest you to know he’s here this evening.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me, Your Grace, but it interests me not.” Cassandra flashed a breezy smile meant to indicate she no longer cared about Whidbey.

  “I’m pleased to hear that,” he said. “Because I do believe you deserve someone worthy of you. Indeed, that is why I released you, at your request, from our betrothal years ago.”

  She sighed. “Alas, it didn’t do me much good. Not that I wished to marry you, for I have always, foolishly, dreamed of marrying for love.”

  “Perhaps you will yet,” Cecily said. “For I, too, have always dreamed of doing the same.”

  “Oh, was there someone else you hoped to marry, only to give him up for a duke? And mind you, Miss Logan, no one would blame you if you did, for he is a duke, after all.”

  “Then I wonder why you would inquire as to why I would marry him, knowing he’s ruined another lady?” Cecily countered.

  “Unless you happen to be that lady. In which case, he is doing the gentlemanly thing by marrying you, and you may count yourself fortunate to have been ruined by a duke, devil or no. Well, I mustn’t ho
ld up the line, so may I wish the two of you many felicitations.” With a little flutter of her gloved fingers, Cassandra swept on, but by now there was no one left in line. Dane had issued an invitation to the Prince Regent, who had yet to make an appearance, if he deigned to make one at all.

  He couldn’t help wondering why Cecily hadn’t confirmed to Cassandra that she was, in fact, marrying Dane for love. After all, despite what he thought he’d ascertained from her book, he had yet to hear her say the three magical words to him.

  “Well,” he finally said, taking Cecily’s gloved hand into his own. “I daresay you dealt with that quite neatly, my dear.”

  “I rather thought so,” she airily agreed. “Shall we wait for Prinny?”

  “We needn’t do so. We could be standing here till dawn, and he may never show. We may as well proceed to the ballroom, only not by the same route as our guests. We should make our way upstairs to the gallery over the ballroom, and then make a grand entrance by descending the staircase there.”

  “The same staircase where the young Lady Tyndall made her entrance almost two years ago, when everyone thought they were going to be presented with Princess Antonia?”

  “The very same. We can take this staircase over here by the library door, and work our way around.”

  “Oh, but first—” She abruptly broke off and lowered her head, turning what Dane thought was an adorable shade of pink. “Oh, but I needn’t finish what I’m saying. You can still read my mind, yes?”

  Dane laughed. “I believe I can. There’s one at the top of this staircase. I only hope you won’t have to wait in line.”

  “If I do—or even if I don’t—you needn’t wait outside for me.”

  “But do you know how to reach the ballroom staircase from there? Oh, there will be servants up there. Any of them will show you the way. I’ll be behind the doors to the ballroom staircase, waiting for you. Come.”

  Dane led her up the staircase winding around the vast front hall of Bradbury House. “I don’t suppose you were here for young Lady Tyndall’s wedding, either?”