A Duke in Need of a Wife

by Annie Burrows

  Not surprisingly, the Duke in question stiffened and made a sort of growling noise, low in his throat.

  ‘What was that?’ It sounded like the man had dashed to the door. ‘I think someone is coming. We will have to hide.’

  Oh, no! There wasn’t room for all four of them behind the sofa. Not that anyone would be doing any more hiding, actually, if the man with Lady Elizabeth did attempt to dive behind the sofa, since he’d land on the very man he would least wish to meet.

  ‘I didn’t hear anything,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘It was probably just a fox, or an owl, or something.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it is my nerves,’ said the man shakily. ‘The thought of deceiving His Grace, when he has been such a generous benefactor of late...’

  ‘Well, just carry on thinking of him as a generous benefactor, Septimus. Only, in future he is going to be generous with his wife, rather than his funds.’

  The Duke was now breathing rather deeply through his nostrils.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the man Sofia now knew was the scientist she’d always thought looked troubled. And now she knew why.

  ‘I must get back before I am missed,’ said Lady Elizabeth before the scientist could give his guilty conscience free rein. ‘Kiss me, one last time,’ she commanded in a husky voice.

  To Sofia’s disgust, there came the same rustly, gaspy, slushy noises she’d heard before. Only this time, she could picture the intense young man and Lady Elizabeth devouring each other, even while they were hoping she might still marry the Duke. Which made Sofia shudder.

  The Duke was still breathing heavily. She could actually feel his outrage mounting the longer the kiss went on.

  It felt like an age before the other couple broke apart, gathered up their lanterns, stumbled out of the summer house and shut the door behind them.

  ‘My goodness,’ said Sofia, after raising her head above the sofa back, to make sure they’d really gone.

  ‘Goodness has nothing to do with it,’ growled the Duke, getting to his feet and brushing down his clothing.

  ‘No. I can see that from your point of view...’

  ‘From anyone’s point of view!’

  ‘No, but they are clearly very much in love.’

  ‘Love!’ He spat out the word as though it was a lump of gristle. ‘That’s the sort of behaviour your much-vaunted love gives rise to! They are plotting to cuckold me. Before I’ve even proposed to the baggage!’ He strode to the door and flung it open. She could see his broad-shouldered outline silvered by moonlight in the doorway. She got up and rubbed ruefully at her sore hip.

  ‘I cannot believe she would agree to marry you when she’s clearly in love with another man,’ she said, walking over to join him. ‘What a pity he could not be wealthier. Or her family not depending on her so much.’

  ‘What?’ He whirled round to glare at her.

  ‘Well, only consider. If they could just marry each other, then neither of them would even consider going to such desperate lengths.’

  ‘Hmmph.’ He glared in the direction the other couple must have gone. ‘I suppose, in a way, I can see your point.’

  ‘You mean, you can see you ought only to marry a woman who loves you?’

  ‘I can see,’ he growled, ‘that Lady Elizabeth certainly should not marry any man but Brown. Look,’ he said, taking her by the arm, ‘you had better get back to the house as well, before anyone else takes it into their heads to take a moonlight stroll. It appears there is no telling who next may turn up in the one place I thought was sure to give us some privacy. Lady Margaret and Perceval, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘Oh. Is she in love with him, then? I thought she had more in common with that poetical chap.’

  ‘It was a figure of speech,’ he said irritably. ‘I have no idea what she may be plotting. Or him, for that matter. Go on,’ he said, planting a swift kiss on her forehead. ‘Back to the Court with you. We will speak further tomorrow.’

  And with that he thrust her out of the door, shutting it behind her. Fortunately, Snowball had stayed close to her skirts the whole time and was on the same side of the door as she was, so she had company on the long walk back to the house.

  It was heart-wrenching to have to abandon her when they reached the kennels. Snowball whined and hung her head in dejection when she realised what was happening. ‘I know, I know, it must be horrid,’ she said, caressing the dog’s head. And vowed to bring a treat for her pet the next day to make up for being locked away like a criminal.

  * * *

  So the next morning she went in to breakfast before taking Snowball for her walk, planning to sneak a couple of sausages into her reticule.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Underwood,’ said Oliver, from the head of the table. ‘You are late to breakfast this morning. Did you not sleep well?’

  Sleep? How had he expected her to sleep after the discoveries she’d made in the summer house? Not only about his real motives for wishing to marry, but also the shocking plans Lady Elizabeth was making with her secret lover.

  Not to mention the fact that every time she had closed her eyes she felt Oliver’s arms round her and his lips upon hers. Her spine tingled just the way it had done when he’d breathed down her ear. It had made her feel restless and hot. Flinging off the covers hadn’t helped. Nor had getting out of bed and opening the window. The tepid breeze that had sighed over her body had not been able to erase the feel of his hands. In fact, it had felt almost like a caress—so much like a caress that she’d had to pull the sheets back up over her.

  Which had made her too hot.

  ‘Not terribly well, no,’ she replied, making for the buffet. ‘It was so hot,’ she added, helping herself to a plate of cooked food...and slipping a sausage into her reticule.

  ‘It is likely to remain hot for the next few days,’ said Oliver, eyeing her keenly as she made her way to a vacant seat about halfway along the table. ‘Which is why I have organised a picnic for us all, down by the lake, for later today.’

  ‘How thoughtful of you, Your Grace,’ cooed Lady Sarah. ‘Being by the water always feels so refreshing.’

  It would be even more refreshing if they could actually swim in it, Sofia reflected as she turned over her teacup. Not that it was likely.

  ‘Are there trees close by, for shade?’ asked Lady Elizabeth. ‘I should not wish to risk ruining my complexion.’

  Sofia could not help shooting her a startled glance. How could she care so much about her complexion and so little for her marriage vows? She couldn’t have a scrap of integrity. Why, she looked as fresh as a daisy this morning. No signs that she’d been up late last night meeting her secret lover. Or lying in bed tossing and turning, remembering what it had felt like to have his hands all over her person.

  Sofia took a gulp of the tea a footman had just poured her, to hide the fact she was flushing with guilt. For what right had she to criticise Lady Elizabeth when she was no better herself? At least Lady Elizabeth was in love with her solemn scientist. She had no such excuse for kissing Oliver. Or letting him kiss her, to be more accurate.

  ‘Not only are there trees for shade...’ Oliver was telling the breakfasting guests, in a very masculine voice.

  She set her teacup down with a snap. How could his voice be anything but masculine? He was a man.

  A man who’d held her pressed along every inch of his solid body while they’d been hiding behind the sofa...

  ‘There are also boats which you may take out on to the water. Or rather,’ he continued, ‘you may employ some gentleman to row you out on the water.’

  Would he remove his jacket and roll up his shirtsleeves if he were to row her across the water? He must have fine, sinewy forearms to judge from last night. Probably, with his colouring, covered in a lot of black hair...

  Her mouth ran dry. She had another cup of tea, but it made no difference.
>
  As she glanced across the table at the scientist, who looked even more gloomy than usual this morning, she caught him yawning. And promptly had to stifle a yawn of her own.

  ‘If you will excuse me,’ she said, getting to her feet.

  ‘Leaving the table so soon, Miss Underwood?’ Oliver gave her an amused look.

  ‘Yes. I have not yet taken Snowball for her walk.’ Hopefully, a brisk walk through the grounds would clear her head. Even though it was well past the freshest, dewiest part of the morning.

  He nodded, his eyes flicking briefly, and with amusement, to her reticule.

  Oh, he must have seen her filch the sausage from the sideboard. How...how mortifying! Her face aflame, she walked to the door, conscious of that lazily amused gaze boring into her spine. As surely as she’d felt his breath on the back of her neck when they’d been clasped in that close embrace behind the sofa.

  She wiped her hand across her forehead, which was clammy. Oh, lord, but it was hot already, today. Hopefully it would be cooler in the woods, where she was planning to take Snowball. But as for a picnic down by the lake, later...that was going to be extremely uncomfortable.

  In more ways than one.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It hadn’t been any cooler in the woods. The only effect Sofia’s walk had on her was to make her feel gritty, as well as tired. She trailed up the stairs to her room, looking forward to having a wash and changing into a fresh gown.

  Her heart sank, therefore, when the first thing she saw upon entering her room was her aunt, and her aunt’s maid Marguerite, apparently intent on exhuming every item of clothing from the wardrobe and scattering it across the room.

  ‘Sofia, you clever girl!’ Aunt Agnes clasped her hands at her breast, a broad smile on her face.

  ‘Clever? In what way?’

  ‘In landing a marriage proposal from His Grace.’ She clapped her hands this time.

  ‘A marriage proposal?’ Was the room spinning, or was it just her brain?

  ‘Yes. His Grace summoned your uncle to his study right after breakfast to inform him of his decision.’

  ‘Oh, did he?’ His decision? His?

  She felt as if she’d been ambushed. She’d told him exactly what she thought about his ideas about marriage. She’d told him to find a wife who loved him.

  How could he trample all over her opinions like this? Had he no respect for them? For her?

  And what about Aunt Agnes? How could she be looking so pleased? What of her plans to marry Sofia to Jack?

  ‘Surely Uncle Ned did not give his consent?’

  ‘Well, he was a bit reluctant and tried explaining that you had an understanding with your cousin, but His Grace overrode him. Said that a definite proposal trumped a mere understanding.’

  ‘But...surely...’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about your Uncle Ned. I shall soon make him see the advantages to all of us of you becoming a duchess. You will be in a position to do something for Betty and Celia, and their children which, I must say, I shouldn’t think Jack would ever have permitted. Oh, I can hardly believe it.’ Her eyes shone. ‘My niece, a duchess. In spite of my family prophesying no good would come of me marrying down. That’ll show ’em! And Lady Sale, too. If you only knew the way she’s been looking down her nose at me and assuring me that the matter was as good as settled. She told me that the only reason any other girl was invited here was so that His Grace’s intention of marrying her precious daughter should not be too obvious. Hah!’

  ‘Wait...wait...’ Sofia finally put her finger on what had disturbed her so much about what Oliver had said to her uncle. ‘You said he said that a definite proposal trumped a mere understanding?’

  ‘Yes. He did. He means to marry you, Sofia. You!’

  ‘But he hasn’t proposed.’

  ‘Well, naturally, he would have wished to speak to your uncle first,’ said Aunt Agnes, with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘But now he has gained consent to the match, he means to make you a formal offer. In fact, he asked that you go to him in his study, the moment you returned from your walk. That’s why I’m picking something out for you. You will always remember what you were wearing the day a duke proposed to you, you know. Now, let me see. Oh, how I wish you had something a bit more...’

  She bustled back to the wardrobe leaving Sofia standing, stunned, in the doorway. But only for a moment. While Aunt Agnes and Marguerite had their heads together, she turned and left the room.

  There was no point in getting changed. Not to give the Duke a piece of her mind. Besides, they wouldn’t find anything more, as her aunt had put it, no matter how long they rummaged through her wardrobe.

  She’d reached the end of the corridor before realising she had no idea where, in this vast, sprawling building, the Duke’s study actually was.

  Fortunately, as Lady Elizabeth had said the night before, the place was infested with footmen, whose sole task it was to direct bewildered guests to their intended destination. Even more fortunately, it was the friendly footman, Peter, whom she encountered first. And rather than merely pointing her in the right direction, he offered to escort her personally to Oliver’s domain.

  There, they encountered another footman, a far more senior one to judge by the supercilious expression on his face.

  ‘His Grace is occupied at the moment, miss,’ he said with a slight sneer. ‘And had he wished to speak with you, he would have sent for you.’

  ‘Well, he did,’ she retorted. ‘That is, he told my uncle, who told my aunt that he did.’

  ‘Indeed?’ The man clearly did not believe her. Did he really spend his days refusing to admit importunate girls to his employer’s private rooms?

  Well, she was not going to be turned away by this...flunkey! She crossed to the side of the corridor directly opposite the door to the study, leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest.

  ‘I will wait until he’s finished whatever it is he’s doing, and then you may ask him yourself if he wants to speak to me,’ she informed the snooty footman.

  ‘I will go and fetch you a chair,’ said Peter sympathetically.

  She was just about to thank him when the door opened and Lady Elizabeth’s scientist emerged, white-faced and trembling. He stumbled away, a dazed look on his face. It hardly surprised her. Oliver had never looked, to her, like a man who took plots against him lying down. She had no idea what form his retribution would take. She only knew she wouldn’t be in Septimus Brown’s shoes, not for all the tea in China.

  It made her pause. This was not going to be a good time to confront him.

  On the other hand, he might as well get all his quarrels over with in one fell swoop.

  She stepped forward.

  The footman held up his hand, went into the room and shut the door in her face.

  He emerged a few seconds later, his expression wooden. ‘You may go straight in,’ he said, holding the door open for her. It was all Sofia could do not to poke her tongue out at him on the way past.

  Oliver, who was sitting at his desk, rose to his feet and came around it, his hands outstretched in greeting, a smile softening his usually harsh features.

  ‘How dare you,’ she cried, forestalling him, ‘tell my uncle that I would marry you?’

  He came to a dead halt, lowering his arms and his eyebrows. ‘Because last night you spoke of loving me...’

  ‘What?’ He thought she’d been making a declaration?

  Oh! No wonder he’d kissed her.

  But then, almost straight away, he’d said love was for fools.

  How...humiliating.

  ‘I never said I wanted to marry you,’ she shot back at him in self-defence.

  ‘You make a habit of kissing men to whom you are not betrothed, do you?’ He planted his fists on his hips. ‘I certainly would not have kissed you, had I not b
elieved you had just agreed to become my wife.’

  ‘You never said a word about marriage! You just...pounced!’

  ‘I said a great deal about marriage.’ His frown deepened. ‘That is, I explained why I needed to marry. I laid out the kind of woman I needed to be a mother to Livvy. You countered with your own version of what kind of marriage you wanted. And then you let me kiss you.’

  She went over the conversation they’d had immediately before he kissed her. To be honest, that kiss had been so explosive it had pretty much blown everything else out of her head. And even later it had been all she’d been able to think about...the feel of him holding her close, behind the sofa.

  She wiped a hand across her forehead.

  ‘No. I mean, yes, I did, but you...you were speaking in a general way. About your plans to find some woman. A woman who would know how to protect Livvy from malicious gossip and take a stand with you in your bids for reform. Neither of which I can do. Of course I didn’t think you meant me!’

  Though it certainly explained why he’d kissed her. She had been a bit bewildered, briefly, before she’d caught fire. And then, of course they’d been interrupted by the arrival of Septimus Brown and there hadn’t been time for him to enlighten her as to why he’d so suddenly and unexpectedly thrown propriety out of the window.

  ‘So all that talk of love was a lie then, was it?’

  For a moment she thought she saw pain flash across his face, though he swiftly closed it off.

  ‘No,’ she said, appalled that somehow she’d made this haughty, insular man reach out for something that wasn’t there. ‘I wasn’t lying. You do deserve to find love. Just...’

  ‘Just not with you?’

  ‘Well, no, because...’ She took a deep breath. ‘Because I deserve to be loved, too. And you recoil from the mere mention of the word.’