I Dared the Duke

by Anna Bennett

  “You may refer to me as the warden,” Julie stood at attention, saluting.

  “Keep me informed,” Meg said. “I have the feeling there will be plenty to report.”

  * * *

  Later that evening, on the first day of Beth’s confinement, a package arrived. Beth tore off the brown paper to reveal a familiar book—Mythological Creatures. Between pages 278 and 279, which contained a description of Ladon, she found a bookmark with a single sentence written on it: Dragons are real.

  On the second day, she received another delivery. It was a box containing a lovely bottle of sparkling wine and a note: From our wine cellar.

  On the morning of the third day, a messenger brought her a large flat package. Julie held it while Beth unwrapped it.

  Julie tilted her head and made a face at the half-scorched painting. “What is that?”

  Beth swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s a horse.”

  Her eyes stung as she read the note tacked to the back: Phyllis misses you.

  And then she burst into tears.

  Uncle Alistair ambled into the room, his tufts of white hair waving. “There, there, dear.” His forehead creased in concern. “Don’t despair, Elizabeth. I come bearing good news. We’ve received an instigation to a dinner party this evening—at the Duke of Blackshire’s residence.”

  Beth turned to Julie, deciding she wasn’t too proud to beg her little sister. “Please, may we go?”

  Julie’s gaze flicked from Beth’s tear-stained face to the misshapen horse painting and back again. “Your duke has eccentric tastes, it would seem … but when it comes to you, he could not have chosen better.”

  Beth hugged her sister tightly, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Of course we may go to the dinner party. And we’ll send word to Meg that she and the earl must attend too. I’m certain she’d never forgive us if she missed it.”

  Happiness blossomed in Beth’s chest. The quarantine was over.

  She and Alex would soon be together again.

  Chapter FORTY-TWO

  Mr. Sharp welcomed Beth, Julie, and Uncle Alistair into Blackshire House, apologizing profusely for the faint smell of smoke that hung in the air, and whisking them past the closed door of the study, which was tarnished with soot.

  “Allow me to escort you and your family to the drawing room, Miss Lacey,” the butler said, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. “His grace, the dowager duchess, and Lord Darberville await you, as do Lord and Lady Castleton.”

  Beth swallowed nervously. While she’d worked for the duchess, Mr. Sharp had always treated her warmly—like a daughter. But this evening, his tone was different.

  Perhaps the shift was due to the lovely gown she’d borrowed from Meg. Pale pink silk and trimmed with sparkling crystals, the dress floated around her legs like a whisper. Or perhaps the butler was merely relieved that the blow to her head hadn’t been as grave as he’d feared.

  Either way, Mr. Sharp addressed her not as a lowly companion. Rather, he spoke to her as though she were … an esteemed guest.

  The butler ushered them into the drawing room and announced Beth, Julie, and their uncle like they were royalty.

  Only vaguely aware of the other guests, Beth locked her gaze on Alex. Dressed in a midnight blue jacket that hugged his broad shoulders and buckskin trousers that were molded to his muscular legs, he took her breath away. And when his handsome face broke into a broad smile, one she knew was just for her, well … her belly spun cartwheels.

  “Beth,” he breathed. As though he’d forgotten about the half dozen other people in the room.

  “Alex,” she replied—because it seemed less awkward than addressing him as your grace.

  He went to her—in front of his grandmother, her uncle, his best friend, her sisters, and her brother-in-law—and raised her hands to his lips.

  “I confess that I’d planned to make a speech during dinner. It was supposed to charm you and entertain the gentlemen and make all the ladies reach for their handkerchiefs. But now that you’re here, I don’t think I can wait to say it, and I don’t think I can manage much beyond the raw, simple truth.”

  “The truth is good.” She gave him an encouraging smile.

  “The first truth is that neither you nor your sisters are wallflowers. And I’m sorry that, years ago, I dubbed you as such.”

  “Bloody hell,” the earl barked. “How dare you, Blackshire?” He flexed his fists, itching to defend his wife.

  Meg linked an arm through her husband’s and patted his sleeve soothingly. “We accept your apology. Do go on.”

  Alex focused on Beth once more. “The second truth is that I am not a rake—not even remotely. Rumors of my, er, prowess are unfounded.”

  Perched on the sofa across the room, the dowager fanned herself. “Mr. Sharp, I require a drink at once!”

  Lord Darberville sank into the nearest chair and dragged a hand through his hair. “I believe I’ll have one as well, Sharp.”

  Julie blinked, incredulous. “This is the best dinner party I’ve ever attended,” she declared.

  Beth squeezed Alex’s hands and arched a brow, her subtle way of letting him know that as far as she was concerned, the rumors of his prowess were completely founded. In fact, she could scarcely wait for the opportunity to allow him to demonstrate again.

  He blew out a long, slow breath and gazed at her with something akin to adoration. “But the third truth—the only one that really matters—is that I love you. I’m not certain you can fix me, Beth. But I’m willing to let you try.”

  “You don’t require fixing,” she said softly. Although there was one charming lock of hair on his forehead that she would brush aside later. “I love you. Just the way you are.”

  Uncle Alistair coughed into his hand, puffed out his chest, and assumed a stern expression. “I do hope this is all leading to the appropriate confusion, duke.”

  Oh dear. “He means conclusion,” Beth whispered.

  Alex nodded at her uncle and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “With your permission, sir?”

  Mollified, Uncle Alistair waved an arm magnanimously.

  Alex turned back to Beth and dropped to one knee.

  Good heavens. Her vision blurred and her heart pounded out of her chest.

  “Elizabeth Lacey,” Alex said. “A lot of things in this world aren’t what they seem. But my love for you is true … and very, very real. I’d be the happiest man alive if you would do me the great honor of becoming my wife.”

  “Oh, Alex,” she sniffled.

  He looked up at her, his beautiful eyes pleading. “Say you’ll marry me, Beth.”

  “Yes!”

  The room erupted in a chorus of cheers and squeals as Alex stood and wrapped his arms around her. “God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured into her hair.

  Julie clapped her hands. “My sister is going to be a duchess!”

  “My companion is going to be my granddaughter-in-law,” the dowager said, dabbing a handkerchief at the corners of her eyes, behind her spectacles. “And I shall be free, at last, to spend my time rusticating in the country.”

  Beth and Alex froze, stunned. “The country? But I thought you wanted to live here,” Beth said. “Close to Alex.”

  “I did,” the dowager said sheepishly. “But only to ensure that he became settled. Now that you’re betrothed, I may finally enjoy a bit of a respite.”

  “Wait.” Alex shook his head, disbelieving. “You need a respite from me?”

  “No, dear.” The dowager clucked her tongue. “But the numerous accidents of late—fires, broken balconies, and the like—have taken a toll on my nerves.”

  “That’s all over now,” Alex assured her. “There’s no need to run off.”

  “I’m not running off,” the dowager countered. “I promise to come visit often, especially once my great-grandchildren arrive.”

  Lord Darberville choked on his brandy and Alex shot him a death glare.

  “Very well,�
�� Alex said, turning back to his grandmother, “but you cannot leave town for a few weeks, at least.”

  The dowager arched a brow. “Why ever not?”

  “Well … I … for one thing, my study is in a shambles. You were in the midst of redecorating it, if I recall. You might at least finish the project.”

  “Pshaw.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I have no doubt that Elizabeth can manage the task far better than I. If it weren’t for her, you’d still have a horrendous painting of a llama hanging on your wall.”

  “That’s no llama,” Lord Darberville cried. “That’s a horse.”

  “Damn,” Alex muttered.

  “Which means I won the bet.” Lord Darberville smiled, smug in victory.

  “My goodness,” Meg said with a happy sigh. “It seems we have much to celebrate. After all, it’s not every day one witnesses a proposal at a dinner party.”

  “I’d like to point out,” Lord Castleton said wryly, “that it only counts as a dinner party if we actually eat dinner.”

  Alex chuckled and signaled to Mr. Sharp, who rang a bell and cheekily intoned, “Dinner is served.”

  * * *

  Alex had spent much of the evening trying to devise ways to steal some private time with Beth.

  He should have predicted that his grandmother would see to it.

  At the end of dinner, she’d reminded Beth that most of her belongings were still there and wistfully wished for one last evening together so they might finish the novel they’d been reading.

  No one, least of all Beth, had the heart to deny his grandmother, so it was agreed that Beth would stay in his house one more night.

  After all the happy guests had gone home, and the duchess was settled in her bed, Beth sat beside her and began to read. But his grandmother—who’d had a few glasses of celebratory champagne—was snoring a mere two pages later.

  Or, perhaps, she only pretended to.

  Proving once again that she really would do anything for Alex.

  Beth turned down the lamp on her nightstand and tiptoed into the hall, where Alex waited.

  “Jesus, I’ve missed you. I thought I’d never have you to myself,” he growled, lacing his fingers through hers.

  “I am all yours now,” she whispered. “And I’ve missed you too.”

  “Let’s go. My bedchamber,” he said. “Unless you’d prefer the wine cellar.”

  “Hmm.” She laid a finger on her chin, as though she had to ponder the decision. Shrugging, she said, “As long as I am with you, I don’t care where we are.”

  Warmed by the sentiment but tired of talking, he scooped her up and carried her all the way to his room. Once there, he pushed the door open with his foot and laid her on his bed.

  Their bed. At last.

  Cradling her cheek in his palm, he gazed into her luminous eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.” In the moonlight that streamed through his window, her pale pink gown shimmered and her chestnut curls glistened. The long line of her neck begged to be kissed, and the round swells of her breasts nearly spilled out of her bodice. He wanted to devour her.

  “Is your head truly all right?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She smiled wickedly, tugged off his cravat, and tossed it onto the floor.

  “And you’ve forgiven me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she repeated, unbuttoning his waistcoat, untucking his shirt, and sliding a hand up his abdomen. “Shall I prove it to you?”

  His mouth went dry. “Hell, yes.”

  She kissed his neck and slipped a hand inside his trousers, stroking him until he thought he’d—“Enough,” he said panting. “I believe you.”

  “Now make me believe,” she said saucily.

  “Gladly.” He shed his boots, jacket, and trousers before loosening her laces and tugging off her clothes. Though tempted to run his fingers through her hair, he left it piled on top of her head—so it wouldn’t hide an inch of her. He plundered her mouth and caressed her breasts and touched her till she moaned in ecstasy.

  “I want you,” she said, winding her arms around his neck. “Now, tomorrow, always.”

  “I need you,” he said, sliding into her. “God, I need you, Beth.”

  She wrapped her legs around his waist and they moved together until they both were panting and on the brink.

  “Alex,” she cried, “I … I … oh.”

  He came with her, hard and long and … right. So very right.

  Touching his forehead to hers, he savored the perfect fit of their bodies. “I love you, siren.”

  “I love you too,” she said with a blissful sigh.

  It seemed fairy tales really could come true.

  And dragons … were most definitely real.

  Thank you so much for reading I Dared the Duke—I hope you enjoyed Beth and Alex’s story!

  • If you’d like to learn more about the Wayward Wallflower books, please visit my website (http://annabennettauthor.com) and sign up for my newsletter (http://eepurl.com/bTInsb).

  • I can usually be found procrastinating on social media and would love some company! Join me on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/AnnaBennettAuthor) or Twitter (https://twitter.com/_AnnaBennett).

  • Lastly, reviews are a great way to spread the word about books. I’m always grateful for honest feedback from readers—even a quick rating or review on your favorite bookseller’s site is incredibly helpful.

  Thanks again for spending time with me and the Lacey sisters!

  —Anna

  Read on for an excerpt from Anna Bennett’s next novel in the Wayward Wallflowers series

  THE ROGUE IS BACK IN TOWN

  Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  Sam managed to contain himself until Wiltmore left the parlor—then leaped out of his chair and slid onto the settee beside Juliette. “What the devil were you thinking, volunteering me as your uncle’s apprentice?”

  “Shh,” she said, casting a nervous glance at the door. “He’ll hear you.”

  “You should have discussed the idea with me beforehand,” he sputtered.

  “It popped into my head at the last moment. And I think it was rather brilliant.” She leaned back against a worn cushion, beaming with triumph.

  Sam closed his eyes and imagined being cooped up in the old man’s stuffy study for hours on end, listening to tedious lectures concerning God only knew what—the digestive systems of mollusks … the mating habits of beetles … He broke into a cold sweat. “I can’t do it. I was never a very apt student.”

  She picked an invisible piece of lint from her skirt. “I cannot say I’m shocked. But a short apprenticeship is hardly cause for alarm. Heavens, you’d think I’d enlisted you to fight with the British army.”

  “Enduring enemy gunfire might be preferable to deciphering scientific formulas,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

  Smiling with false sweetness, she said, “You are most welcome to join the cavalry any time you wish.”

  He moved closer, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “I certainly wouldn’t attempt to stop you.”

  “And the moment I stepped foot outside this house, you’d no doubt barricade the door.”

  She tilted her head, pretending to consider his words. “It’s difficult to predict what I would do. However, if you’d like, we can put your theory to the test.”

  Damn, she was beautiful—and too stubborn by half. Her full lips were pressed into a straight line, and her captivating eyes sparked with defiance. But she knew very well that he wouldn’t walk out the front door. He wouldn’t shirk his responsibility or fail his brother—not this time.

  “I’m afraid you won’t rid yourself of me that easily … Juliette.”

  Her composure fled instantly, and her cheeks flushed pink. “I-I have not given you leave to address me by my given name.”

  True, but Miss Lacey sounded too prim and starchy. Juliette, on the other ha
nd, perfectly captured her grace and passion.

  He stretched an arm behind her, resting it on the back of the settee. “I shall be living here—assisting your uncle, apparently—for several days at least. Given the circumstances, I see no reason to stand on ceremony. Besides,” he said glibly, “we’re cousins.”

  “Cousins?” she repeated, incredulous. “Apparently you’ve lost track of where your falsehoods end and reality begins. Have you forgotten that our supposed mutual relation—your dear great aunt Harriett—is a figment of your imagination? Merely one of the many lies you told my uncle?”

  Sam swallowed. No, he hadn’t forgotten.

  And he sure as hell wasn’t having cousinly thoughts at the moment.

  Juliette was so close that the citrusy scent of her hair enveloped him, and the slight pulse beating at the base of her throat entranced him. Though she may have been his adversary, all he wanted to do was to brush aside the errant chestnut curl that skimmed her shoulder and press his lips to the satin skin of her neck.

  Maybe a few days trapped in this house wouldn’t be as torturous as he’d feared.

  She leaned toward him, giving him an excellent view of her round breasts straining against the confines her silk gown. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?” she demanded.

  He lifted his eyes to hers. “I have. You don’t want me to address you as Juliette.”

  “And you will respect my wishes?” she asked warily.

  “Of course.” He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “But since I’m averse to addressing you as Miss Lacey, I shall have to think of another name for you. Something more fitting.”

  “Your manners are beyond the pale,” she said, seething.

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Don’t fret. I’ve already conceived of the perfect name.”

  With a toss of her head, she sniffed. “Congratulations, but I have no interest in hearing it.”

  “No? Suit yourself than … spitfire.”

  * * *

  Julie gasped, indignant. “How dare you?” She’d had the upper hand for all of two minutes before Lord Travis had managed to wriggle under her skin again.