The Grace of a Duke

by Linda Rae Sande

  It didn’t seem to matter what time of the day or night, or what they had been doing or were even about to do, but in her pregnant state, Jane was always ripe and ready for him. Last night, mere minutes before dinner was to be announced, she’d lifted her eyes to his as he offered her a cup of coffee in the library. He felt his groin tighten instantly when she first accepted and then put down the cup, and then, with just that suggestive look, she insisted he take her right then. She’d hitched her skirts up around her thighs, sat on the edge of the library table and then leaned back on her elbows, arching her back so that her swollen belly was lifted up. “Hurry, Garrett!” she’d begged, her ragged breaths coming in pants. And he’d barely undone the placket of his breeches before his cock sprang free and was plunged into her in an attempt to sate her sudden arousal. The frantic sex they shared had been fast and powerful and such a surprise to Garrett that he’d climaxed even before he was sure Jane had succumbed to the quick succession of contractions he felt in her body. Her long legs, wrapped around his hips, went limp as her body seemed to melt into the table top and her head slowly settled back. “Oh, thank you,” she’d murmured, gasping for air as a giggle burbled up from her throat.

  Thank you? Was she joking? She spent the entire day wearing no corset and no drawers and was quite willing to engage in sexual congress at a moment’s notice. No wonder some men wanted their wives pregnant all the time! Garrett thought in amazement. He’d managed to say, “You’re quite welcome,” before he’d heard Gates’ footsteps in the hallway. He’d quickly rebuttoned his breeches and helped Jane up from the table, smoothing her skirts as he did so before the butler entered and announced dinner.

  “Do I look like I’ve just been tumbled?” Jane had asked once the butler left, her expression showing a combination of embarrassment, shock and happiness.

  “God, yes,” Garrett replied as he tried to suppress a smile. He was still trying to catch his breath when he’d kissed her, and continued to do so until hunger finally got the better of them both and they headed to the dining room.

  Now, in their new apartments on the second floor of Wisborough Oaks, he took his time as he pleasured his wife, his movements slow and careful and almost torturous when he felt her inner muscles clenching and releasing him, pulling him into her wet, slick core as deep as he could go. He growled as he felt his oncoming release near, and he took great satisfaction in hearing Jane’s quiet mewling, in watching her long, elegant back arch in response to his movements. But he felt the most satisfaction when he heard his name in the sudden cry of her own release, and his world swirled into a spasm of pleasure so intense, he nearly blacked out.

  “That ought to teach him not to kick me,” Garrett got out in a whisper as he tried to regain his breath, his body suddenly going limp against the back of Jane’s. He wrapped his arm over her again and softly stroked her belly.

  Jane took a deep breath and let it out, quite happy that Garrett was still trapped inside her. “Maybe for a few hours,” Jane murmured in amusement, “But I rather think he will need reminding quite often.” In mere moments, sleep and sweet dreams overcame them both.

  “Tell me your good news,” Joshua urged before he took another fork full of beef to his lips. He closed his eyes and savored the rich gravy, briefly wondering if the innkeeper’s wife would share her recipe. The generous meal had been brought to their private parlor on the second floor of an inn outside of Southall, the aroma from the covered platter so enticing the duke hurried his wife into a chair at the small dining table before she’d had a chance to turn from where she stood staring at the fire. He barely had her properly seated before he was pulling his own chair under him so that he could begin eating as soon as the food was placed on the table.

  “Good news?” Charlotte repeated, her own forkful of potatoes held in midair as she regarded her husband. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she stated with a shake of her head.

  Joshua swallowed before cocking his head to one side. Despite the long day of travel, he thought Charlotte looked as fresh and lovely as she had when they’d left Mayfair that morning. Having spent the past few days as guests of Charlotte’s mother and father at Ellsworth House and knowing the next week would be spent in the company of the Earl of Gisborn and his new wife in Oxfordshire, Joshua was relieved to be alone with his duchess for this part of the trip. He gave Charlotte a look of disbelief and set his utensils on his plate. “You’ve been … smiling. All day. I watched you in the coach …”

  “You were sleeping!” Charlotte accused with a grin, her own fork landing with a clatter onto her plate.

  “Was not,” Joshua replied with a shake of his head. “Well, except for when you slept on my shoulder, and then I allowed myself a bit of a cat nap, but only for a moment,” he amended, the part of his face not covered by his leather mask showing an expression of mock seriousness.

  Charlotte took a deep breath and allowed the air to leave her slowly. Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to share her news with Joshua, she considered. She only wished she knew how he would react. “I do have news,” she finally admitted. “But I must implore you to answer a few questions before I can share it.”

  Joshua frowned. “Alright,” he reluctantly agreed, his one eyebrow cocked in uncertainty.

  “Hypothetically, let’s say …”

  “Hypothetically?” Joshua repeated, his eyebrow still arched up.

  “Yes,” Charlotte said with a nod. “Say you’re a nobleman …”

  “I am a nobleman.”

  “Yes, well then, this shouldn’t be too difficult for you to imagine,” she countered, her tone teasing. “You’ve recently taken a wife …”

  “I have indeed.”

  Charlotte bit her lower lip and gave her husband a lowering glance. “And she’s discovered, or realized, rather, that she’s …” Charlotte allowed the sentence to trail off as she stared at Joshua, a mix of fear and uncertainty crossing her features. Her shoulders slumped as she shook her head.

  “She’s ..?” Joshua repeated, leaning forward in anticipation. At the sight of her sudden sadness, hurt filled his eyes. “She’s … She’s made an awful mistake. She … she cannot abide the sight of her husband. And wonders now if her new husband will grant her permission to seek a divorce …”

  “No!” Charlotte retorted, wondering briefly if his comments were meant in jest or if he was serious. “That’s not it at all!” she countered, wondering how he could have come to that conclusion.

  Joshua stood up from the table, one hand gripping the edge in an effort to steady himself. “Christ, Lottie. Now? You had me convinced you loved me. In spite of …” He used his other hand to wave over the side of his face covered by the leather mask. “In spite of everything,” he managed to get out.

  He wasn’t jesting. “I do love you,” Charlotte insisted, rising from the table a bit too quickly, alarmed by his curse and stunned by his accusation. How could he think otherwise? How could he ..? Suddenly light-headed, she swayed and tried to catch herself on the edge of the table. “Oh!” she managed to get out before a blanket of gray covered her vision.

  “Lottie!” Joshua moved around the table and caught his wife before she fell to the floor. “Charlotte, darling, wake up!” he shouted, lifting her into his arms. He thought about shouting for a doctor but realized Charlotte had merely fainted. What I have done? he wondered before chastising himself for thinking the worst upon hearing her words.

  Joshua moved Charlotte towards the parlor’s settee, keeping his attention on her fluttering eyelashes as he lowered her to the cushions. Following her down, he pressed one hand against the side of her cheek. “Charlotte, my sweet,” he whispered. “Please be alright.”

  “Oh, Joshua,” she whispered in response, a tear escaping the corner of her eye. It left a moist trail as it slid down her temple. Placing her hand over his, she held onto it as she guided it down the front of her gown until it rested on her belly. “She hasn’t made a mista
ke,” she continued in a whisper. “Well, that is, unless her nobleman thinks having a child is a mistake, in which case, I really have made a cake of this. Hypothetically, of course,” she added, her eyes suddenly opening wide with alarm.

  “Hypothetically?” Joshua repeated, his attention on the place where her hand held his.

  “Well, unless you agree that it is good news she’s having a baby. If so, then it’s not hypothetical.”

  “It’s not?”

  Charlotte shook her head, her eyes searching Joshua’s for some hint of his reaction. “We haven’t exactly talked about your heirs since before the wedding, but I take my duties as your duchess very seriously and …”

  “You’re expecting a child,” Joshua stated, his hand absently caressing her belly as he regarded her. Dumbfounded, his gaze drifted to his hand.

  Charlotte nodded. “In December.”

  Joshua’s eyes widened in awe. “You’re going to give me a child? For Christmas?”

  Relaxing into the pillow behind her head, Charlotte finally allowed herself to smile. “Hypothetically,” she teased, rather pleased that Joshua seemed impressed by the news.

  The Duke of Chichester regarded his wife with a mischievous grin. “You wicked woman.”

  Her own smile widening, Charlotte nodded. “You wouldn’t have me any other way, Your Grace.”

  Joshua shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t,” he agreed. “Not a bit.”

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Linda Rae Sande’s

  Book 3 of “The Daughters of the Aristocracy”

  The Seduction of an Earl

  Coming soon from Outskirts Press

  Standing to the side of the front window of the Devonville House parlor, Lady Hannah Slater watched as the unmarked coach pulled up into the semi-circular drive and deposited its rather handsome occupant onto the crushed granite. A coin was tossed to the driver, who nodded and set his crop aside once he’d climbed back onto the box. So … the coach was no doubt hired and expected to stay put for the duration of the gentleman’s visit.

  But who was the fare?

  She watched as the tall man approached the front doors, his gaze directed straight ahead. His top hat was well suited to his height, his dark topcoat and buckskin breeches tailored to fit him precisely. There was a shine on his boots that suggested his valet had seen to them that very morning.

  Hannah wondered why he didn’t seem to direct his gaze to the rest of the house as most did when they approached the Palladian mansion in Park Lane. Perhaps he had already caught sight of her staring out the window and did not wish to embarrass her by looking in her direction. She stepped back and to the side a bit more, to keep his figure in view until he passed one of the Grecian columns that flanked the entry. Dark hair, long sideburns, a square jaw – he looked familiar, but Hannah could not be certain she’d met him.

  Oh, if only Lady Charlotte were still in town. She would know the man who was now being let into the vestibule by Hatfield. Charlotte knew all the gentlemen of the ton and several cits, besides. Having been betrothed nearly her entire life, Charlotte had no need of considering every man she met as a potential suitor. As such, she made friends with men for the sole purpose of having dance partners at balls. For Hannah, though, two Seasons lost to mourning meant she was still becoming acquainted with the available bachelors of the ton. Although she’d had six suitors her first year out, none were particularly interesting, and all but one were clearly angling for her dowry more than for her hand in marriage. The other was barely eighteen and apparently wanted to get married so he could escape his domineering mother.

  Almost twenty-one, and with one best friend married and, in Charlotte’s case, another almost so, Hannah had decided she would have to be settled before summer or die of boredom. She could only hope this Season would present some better prospects.

  Moving to the parlor door but making sure she stayed within its walls, Hannah listened intently. The man had apparently asked to see her father. A sense of disappointment settled over her, and she wondered at her reaction. The Season had only just begun. There had only been two balls and a musicale. Why would she expect a gentleman caller already?

  Perhaps it was Elizabeth’s visit, she decided. Lady Bostwick was so happy in her marriage to George Bennett-Jones. She’d spent most of her visit espousing the virtues of having an attentive husband – a man she had thought was a cit until Elizabeth’s father, the Marquess of Morganfield, set her straight and informed her he was a viscount. That was the day back in October when she became engaged to George. They were married so quickly, the ton had gossiped for nearly a week. And Elizabeth was already with child. In another three months, she would give birth!

  A stab of jealousy caught Hannah by surprise. Oh, to be with child! She thought it rather unfair that one had to have a husband before you could have a baby. At least, in the legitimate sense. She couldn’t imagine being a poor, unmarried woman with a child.

  Sighing, Hannah moved back to a chair near the fireplace. Her abandoned needlework lay on the chair cushion, and her dog, Harold MacDuff, lay napping on the floor directly in front of the chair. Rather than insist he lift his huge body and move it so that she could retake her seat, Hannah directed her attention to the piano-forté. Music would do her spirits some good, she decided. Rifling through the sheets of music she’d picked out at Birchall’s the week before, she pulled out a few and began to play.

  So engrossed was she in studying the music she played, Hannah was unaware of the visitor who stood on the threshold of the parlor. It wasn’t until she completed a selection by Bach and was moving a new sheet of music into place that she noticed her father’s caller. “Oh!” she managed as a hand went to the top of her bosom.

  “Brava, my lady.” Henry Forster bowed deeply, not wanting to take his eyes off the beauty at the piano-forté. He did so to complete the courtesy. Then he had to force himself to breathe. Lady Hannah was far more beautiful up close than she had appeared in the garden the night before. The pink muslin gown she wore complemented her skin as well as her figure, the bodice fitted enough to display the fullness of her breasts. With her slender arms and long fingers uncovered, it was apparent to Henry she had long since left the schoolroom. Twenty, perhaps, he thought as he allowed his gaze to rest on her face. Had Devonville mentioned her age? If so, he couldn’t remember. His brain was suddenly a bit addled.

  Hannah stood up from the piano bench and curtsied. Where is Harold? And why hadn’t he warned her there was a man awaiting her attention? She dared a quick glance at the fireplace and saw that the hairy beast still napped in front of her chair. Some guard dog you are, she thought with a bit of annoyance. As if reading her thoughts, Harold opened one eye for a moment before yawning and closing it again. “Thank you, my lord. I’m afraid it’s the first time I’ve played that piece …”

  “And yet you played it perfectly. Bach himself would have to agree, I’m sure,” Henry stated with a nod as he moved toward her. He stopped directly in front of her and reached for her hand. Lifting it, he brushed his lips over the back of the knuckles. Even her hands are beautiful, he thought as he held the one a bit longer than propriety would allow. “Henry Forster, Earl of Gisborn,” he said by way of introduction.

  Hannah blushed, the pink spreading over her cheeks in an instant. “You are too kind,” she answered, daring to return the man’s gaze. Gisborn? That made no sense. The Earl of Gisborn was an old fart of an earl. A wrinkled, disagreeable, mean old man. So old he was … dead, she suddenly realized.

  And this man was his heir.

  Henry Forster. She recognized the name, but the man who stood before her was not someone to whom she had been introduced at a ball or musicale. Lady Charlotte had spoken of him. She knew him from her youth. Nearby estates, or some such. “And I am Lady Hannah Slater,” she stated, shaking herself from her brief reverie. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” Her mind raced. Had he only come to the parlor becaus
e of the music? He’d called on her father. Their business must be complete. “Would you care to join me for tea?” she wondered, a bit surprised she would invite him, but if she did not, she was afraid he would take his leave of Devonville House, and she’d never see him again.

  Stunned at the invitation – he was alone with her in the parlor, with not a footman nor a maid in sight to act as chaperone – Henry cocked his head to one side. He wasn’t about to question his good luck. “I would be honored,” he replied with a nod.

  Hannah dipped her head in return and moved to the bell pull. “I thought perhaps I would have had another morning caller by now, so it shan’t be long.”

  Henry remembered what the marquess had said about her earlier caller being her ‘other best friend.’

  “Won’t you take a seat?” she offered, waving to the only chair her father would sit in when he was in the parlor.

  Hannah made sure to sit in an adjacent chair with a low table in front. She watched as Henry took the proffered chair. He seemed nervous, as if it was the first time he was alone in a room with a lady. “Did you have business with my father?” she asked, not sure how else to start the conversation.

  Henry considered the question. “Something like that. I find him quite … agreeable,” he offered, daring to look at her as he made the assessment.

  About to respond, Hannah waved toward the parlor door. A maid rolled the tea cart into the room, her eyes widening a bit at the sight of her mistress with a man and apparently no other servant in the room. She placed the silver tray with the pot and cups on the low table in front of Hannah along with a plate of lemon biscuits. “Did you by chance bring a biscuit for the dog?” Hannah wondered, hoping the mention of the hairy beast would put to rest any qualms the maid might have about leaving Hannah alone with the visitor.

  “Aye, milady,” the maid replied, her voice sounding ever so relieved at the mention of the dog. She placed a plate with an odd looking brown shape onto the table next to the biscuits.