Addicted to the Duke

by Bronwen Evans

  The room erupted into rapid talking. Just as he thought, the men, all adventurers at heart if not in experience, crowded round him.

  “Pembroke’s dead?” asked one.

  “I told him a man of his age should leave the exploring to you younger fellows.”

  Soon the house was in an uproar and Panton’s lecture was forgotten as the men drank to Pembroke and reminisced about his discoveries and the antiquities he’d brought back to London.

  He joined in a few toasts to a fine man, and satisfied that the gossip would get back to Fredrick and indicate he believed the earl was dead, he left Lord Foxhurst’s in search of his friend and fellow devil-driven rogue Stephen Hornsby, the Marquis of Clevedon. He would try Stephen’s favorite haunts, starting with Mrs. Kinlock. He’d heard she had a new redhead, and Stephen loved redheads.

  —

  It didn’t take him long to reach Mrs. Kinlock’s. As Alex stepped from the carriage, he noticed another hackney parked farther down the street, but no one alighted. His senses heightened, and it took only a few seconds to understand that Fredrick Cary was having him followed. Probably since he’d left Hestia’s. Thank goodness he’d stuck to his original plans and gone to Lord Foxhurst’s gathering. If he’d gone straight home Cary might have suspected something.

  He stumbled as if he’d had too much to drink and leaned against the gaslight post before sauntering in the door of one of London’s most popular gentleman’s club.

  It was late, well after midnight, so the stylishly decorated brothel was busy. The card room was smoky and the low murmur accompanying the wagers being placed sent a serious hush over the room.

  Stephen would not be spending his time wagering with other men. He preferred other manly pursuits. Alex kept walking until he was deep into the middle of the drawing room. The lighting was dim and he could hardly make out the identity of each guest. All he heard were the sounds of pleasure reverberating within the fashionable red raised velvet wallpapered room.

  He inwardly smiled, remembering many a night spent there with Stephen just before they had stupidly enlisted to fight the Turks back in 1807. He couldn’t believe it had been nine years ago. He swallowed hard. It felt like a lifetime. They were both not quite twenty years of age and thought sailing the high seas would be an adventure. His smile dimmed. It had been an adventure, but one that filled his nightmares and cost him more than any man should have to pay.

  Chasing the horrors of the past away, Alex stood in the center of the room praying Stephen hadn’t gone to one of the private rooms upstairs. It would be embarrassing knocking on each of the doors to find him, and rather indiscreet if he were being watched. Although no one other than a very wealthy member of the ton could gain entrance, which was in his favor.

  He picked a glass of brandy off the tray a servant proffered and asked, “Have you seen his lordship Clevedon?” The servant pointed. He could just make out Stephen’s profile over in the darkened alcove, watching the marquis’s hand sliding up a rather splendid naked leg. Before Alex could make his way to his friend’s side, a delicate feminine hand brushed over his chest.

  “Your Grace, it’s been over six months since you deigned to visit us—or should I say visit me.”

  Edith. She was his favorite of the women here. She was quiet yet self-assured, and he found he could relax in her company. She did not judge any of his habits. “I’ve been in Bedfordshire looking after my estate, sweeting. This is only my second day back in London and yet here I am.”

  She gave him a saucy smile. “It must have been lonely. And exhausting. All that responsibility.” She pressed her near-naked body against his, the flimsy sheer cover no barrier to her warmth and feminine charms. Arousal stirred within him. Her arms slid to his shoulder and firm hands began massaging them. “Perhaps I could relieve all that tension I feel coiled in this magnificent body.” The tension she wanted to relieve was obvious as her hand trailed to his groin.

  The idea of seeking relief between Edith’s experienced thighs pulled at his senses and desire pooled lower. If he hadn’t already spent the afternoon with Dianne in his bed he could have been tempted. However, he had a lot to organize this night. Speed was required if they were to steal a march on Fredrick.

  He briefly closed his eyes against temptation. He was here for something far more important than sex: revenge.

  “Before we play, my lovely, I have a friend I need to talk to. He’s over there. Shall we go and interrupt them?”

  Edith glanced in Stephen’s direction. “He seems to be totally engrossed in private play. Perhaps we should leave them be and instead indulge in our own play—upstairs.”

  He tapped her nose. “If it was private play his lordship wanted he’d have taken it upstairs.” He knew Stephen had certain tastes. The marquis enjoyed watching and being watched. Many thought him perverted, but in terms of men’s vices it was pretty harmless.

  He tugged her along with him as Alex made his way across the room to the alcove. He pushed the curtain aside and sat on the end of the long daybed, pulling Edith onto his lap.

  It took Stephen a few minutes before he lifted his head from between the young lady’s large breasts. He took one look at Alex and said, “As you know, I do love an audience, or perhaps you’ll let me watch you. Either way, it’s a pleasure to see you, my friend. When did you come to town?”

  “Yesterday.” He tried to ignore Edith’s hand as it stroked him through his breeches. Deep breaths. “I hate to do this, but I need a quick chat before you get too engrossed.”

  Stephen stared at him for a long minute. “It can’t wait until tomorrow in my study?”

  Alex shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Plus, best it seem like we are having nothing more than a night of amorous pleasure.”

  “That’s exactly what I was planning—and I’m still planning on accomplishing.” Alex could tell Stephen was intrigued. “Should I send our playmates upstairs to ready a room we can move to once we have chatted?” Stephen asked.

  He was about to say no when Alex looked to the right and bloody hell, Fredrick Cary was entering the drawing room dressed in his mourning black. Alex knew why Cary was here. One of his scouts could not gain entrance, so Cary risked society’s displeasure and had taken the scandalous step of attending a brothel while still in mourning for the man whose title and estate he’d just inherited. All in order to spy on Alex.

  Their eyes locked across the dim room and Alex slowly stood, pushing Edith off his lap and behind him as Cary approached.

  He didn’t wait for Cary to speak but used his ducal voice. “Not the done thing, old boy,” Alex said, “with Jonathan not even a month in his grave.”

  “You’ve heard then?” Cary asked.

  “Lady Hestia and her aunt had the decency to inform me this afternoon. Something you should have done. I would have thought you could have sent me a missive. I would like to have attended his funeral to pay my respects.”

  “His body was so badly decomposed we had to bury him as soon as we reached Pembrokeshire. He’s buried in the family plot. At least I did not dump his body at sea.”

  Alex nodded. “I thank you for that. Lady Hestia would have been heartbroken.”

  “Just doing one’s duty now that I am the earl.”

  Alex had to work hard to ensure his face remained placid. “Yet you think it appropriate to attend Mrs. Kinlock’s?”

  The new earl glanced past him at Stephen, and Fredrick let a sneer form. “We both know we have done a lot worse.”

  Alex stayed calm in the face of Fredrick’s knowing taunt. “True. However, that was when we were young and foolish. It would seem you’re no longer young, but still foolish. This is not how you want to start your new position and title. Respect once lost is hard, if not impossible, to regain.” Alex knew that from painful experience. His dependence on opium changed him. His behavior was appalling, and his father…His father had been so disappointed and ashamed of him. His father could not understand the hell he’d lived th
rough. No one could.

  Fredrick shoved a flask at him. “Shall we drink to no longer being young then?”

  He eyed his foe warily and slowly put the flask to his lips. At the first touch he knew. Laudanum.

  “We both enjoy the same tastes, do we not?” Fredrick’s words taunted him and he didn’t care.

  “There are many pleasures a man can enjoy,” he said, and smiled at Edith.

  Fredrick laughed. “I had heard you’d been making up your lost years. Quite a favorite with the ladies.” His smile died like a flame with no oxygen. “Or is it you were trying to purge your desire for my ward given her father forbade a match? I’m not one to go back on her father’s wishes, so I warn you…stay away from Hestia.”

  Anger surged deep in his gut. “Your ward?” His hands began to curl into fists ready to hit out as soon as Fredrick said her name. “Have no fear, I have no desires on your…ward. Marriage is not in my immediate future.”

  “She is my responsibility. I inherited my title and estate before she married, so she becomes my ward.”

  “She did not mention that when we talked. She’s twenty and quite independent. I hardly think she needs a guardian.”

  “She’s a woman. They all need…protection.” Fredrick walked to where Edith still sat on the daybed behind him. “They are such delicate creatures.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “For instance, my ward needs protection from men with dishonorable intentions”—he turned to look at Alex—“or from men undeserving of her. I’m sure you’d agree.”

  Alex raised his fist but Stephen placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder and whispered, “He’s not worth it, my friend.” Speaking up, Stephen said, “Lady Hestia will be in mourning for the next twelve months on her estate, and is in no danger from any man.”

  Fredrick’s snakelike smile was back. “So true.” He moved away from Edith, bumping Alex’s shoulder as he went past. “I just wanted to make my position clear. I will guide whom Lady Hestia marries. I don’t like your chances.”

  “Lady Hestia will marry whom she wishes. She’s made that very clear by the fact she has declined many offers already.” Stephen’s fingers dug into his shoulder. The idea of Hestia being forced to marry against her will made him want to strangle the life from Fredrick’s rotting but living body.

  “That’s because she has not had a man present to guide her, merely an old spinster who is not the best influence. That situation will soon change.”

  Alex made to take a step toward Fredrick and Stephen’s hand strained to hold him back. Instead he struggled to hold his tongue. “And you think you know what’s best for her. You hardly know her?”

  “Agreed. However, I intend to help her select a husband since she is in mourning and cannot attend functions. I’m sure we will know each other very well, very soon.”

  Don’t react. Don’t react.

  He wanted to brag that Hestia would be free of him and that they both knew what Fredrick had done and was trying to do. But he couldn’t. They still clung to an advantage.

  Suddenly Edith’s arm wrapped around his waist. “Your Grace, are you going to stand talking all night or shall we move on to something more pleasurable upstairs?”

  He pulled Edith into his arms and kissed her passionately. He’d do anything to make Fredrick think he was not interested in Hestia and had forgotten her. The kiss ended and he said, “Quite right, my Venus.” He looked at Stephen. “Shall we take our private party upstairs?”

  “And you think my way of life is perverse.”

  “Just dangerous and damaging to those you peddle your cargo to,” he replied as Stephen led the ladies upstairs.

  Fredrick put his hand on Alex’s chest as he made to move past him. “I’ll be upping my trade. Just think what doors will open for an earl. You might not wish to trade with the Turks, but I have no qualms.”

  Alex looked at Fredrick’s hand and his enemy had the sense to remove it. “You might now have a title, but you’ll never be a gentleman.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it, that I can remember a time years ago when no one would have recognized you as the son of a duke. I also know what depravity you succumbed to. What would our little Hestia think of her white knight if she knew you’d—”

  “Say another word and I’ll end you,” Alex said, cutting in. “Say anything to Lady Hestia and I’ll make sure they are the last words you ever speak.”

  “Now who’s the gentleman?” With that, Fredrick turned and, laughing, walked into the card room.

  Alex was shaking. Anger burned in his gut along with the accompanying fear. Fear that Hestia would suddenly see him for who he really was—a man so deeply flawed it was a wonder he functioned at all. Sometimes he thought the laudanum prescribed by Mr. Foxhall, the ship’s surgeon, was the only thing that kept him sane.

  He followed Stephen upstairs and hoped Fredrick didn’t stay too long. He didn’t want to get caught up in Stephen’s love play. He had too much to do at home.

  If Fredrick believed Hestia had not dashed to London for help, and that Alex was not suspicious about Jonathan’s death, then they might find it easier to slip away.

  What was worrying Alex was that Fredrick would not have proclaimed Hestia’s father dead if he had not already started looking, or even found, her father. Time was not their friend, and while it would be wise to put off leaving London for a few days, he could not afford the luxury.

  No sooner had he followed the ladies and Stephen into the room than Stephen shut the door and said in a low voice, “What’s this all about? I know you’re not here for my pleasure or your own.”

  “True, I prefer my pleasures male free.” He leaned close to whisper, “I need your help.”

  “With Fredrick Cary? You don’t need me to deal with the likes of him.”

  “With the new Earl of Pembroke?”

  Stephen’s eyes widened. “Fredrick has inherited?”

  “Are you gentlemen going to talk all night?” the redhead asked Stephen with a perfect pout on her lips.

  “His Grace and I are going to watch. Why don’t you and Edith entertain us for a while.”

  She shrugged and turned to Edith, who simply smiled and slipped her transparent robe from her shoulders before clambering onto the bed.

  As the men settled in to watch the sensual play, Stephen asked, “I’m not sure why you’ve come to me?”

  “The Earl of Pembroke’s death is not all that it seems. I’m worried what Fredrick will do next.”

  “Is Lady Hestia not coping? She’s not too distressed?” Stephen asked. “She’s young to be left on her own without a male to guide her.”

  “She has her aunt, Pembroke’s sister. Considering the circumstances, she’s coping remarkably well.”

  “I suspect she’s a strong miss. She seems to have bounced back from her ordeal at the hands of your nemesis Murad rather well. I’ve always found it difficult to understand why some man hasn’t proposed.” He was silent for a moment before continuing. “I suspect the Welsh heritage and the scandal of her capture put some men off, but she is a beauty. And I’ve heard she has a large dowry too. We men are strange creatures.”

  For some reason he wanted to rush and defend Hestia from his friend’s crass comments, but deep down he knew them to be true. Society was unforgiving.

  “I believe Lady Hestia has had several proposals but has declined every one. Unfortunately, as it turns out.”

  Stephen gave him a wide smile. “She’d make you a fine duchess, if you ask me. I wager she’d not decline your suit.”

  “That’s hardly a compliment. Not many women would turn down a proposal from a duke.”

  Stephen laughed. “She’s not interested in the title—or the money.”

  He had no reply to that statement because he knew it to be correct. “Why don’t you offer for her? You always said you’d marry for your convenience.”

  “She would not have me. She only has eyes for you. Everyone knows it, including you.” Stephen studied him. “I don�
��t need my wife to be madly in love with me, but I object to her being madly in love with someone else.”

  Why did her adoration unsettle him? Alex knew why. He didn’t deserve it. Perfection was an unattainable dream, especially for him. Time to change the topic of conversation.

  “Let’s leave the delectable Lady Hestia out of this. My problem is her father. I don’t think the earl is really dead. I believe Fredrick Cary brought a body home but it is not the earl.”

  Stephen’s eyes widened and he leaned close, keeping his voice low. “A ruse to get his hands on the title and estates?”

  His friend also understood Fredrick’s driving need to be accepted, to rise above his station. Fredrick lived on the edges of society and longed to enter the realm of the privileged and wealthy. Becoming the earl opened doors that currently were closed to him because some in society knew how he made his money. Alex wasn’t sure the title would be enough to overlook Fredrick’s trade in opium.

  “If he wants to enter the gilded doors then he’d best stop his trade.”

  During Alex’s first years home, before his father died, Stephen had on several occasions found Alex in a sorry state in London’s East End and pulled Alex’s arse home from the den of iniquity he’d stumbled into. Fredrick was usually there too, if not partaking, then supplying the brothel with the finest opium.

  “That is what I’m worried about. He has the title; what else is he up to? Lady Hestia has a large dowry and is now unprotected. He’s a clever bastard. The body was too badly decomposed to know who it was, but there was no signet ring or locket.”

  “What are you going to do? If the earl’s not dead yet, he soon will be. Fredrick can’t let him return.”

  “I intend to sail to the Mediterranean to warn his lordship before Fredrick has him killed for real.”

  “And you want me to come along?” Stephen finished on a smile before he had to even ask.

  “I need someone I can trust. Someone who has a large fleet of well-armed ships.”

  “When Fredrick learns you’re gone he’ll send men after you.”