A Duke Changes Everything

by Christy Carlyle

  “Of course not.” Mina risked a glance and immediately regretted it. A wave of nausea hit and she reached out, her fingers grabbing his coat lapel.

  The duke gripped her arm. A comforting heat, sheltering her from the parapet’s edge. “You’re all right,” he said softly, as gently as she’d murmured to the shying stallion. “I’ll have a quick look and we can get back on solid ground.”

  Mina nodded, and he let her go to examine the damaged tiles again.

  If they ever got off the roof, she wanted to show him the gardens and the folly near the pond. Enderley’s groundskeeper had created topiaries that hadn’t existed when the duke was a child.

  “I’m not sure what good we can do up here. Wouldn’t a mason have far better knowledge of the structural integrity of a centuries-old wall?”

  He turned back to her, a smirk softening the sharp peaks of his upper lip. “You underestimate me, Miss Thorne. I do know a bit about old walls.”

  Mina squinted skeptically. “Don’t tell me you’re a bricklayer and a gambling club owner.”

  His chuckle was deep and appealing, and far too brief. “When I found the site of my club, it was a shambles. I learned more about masonry and plasterwork and the fine art of window glazing than you could ever imagine.”

  “You did all the work yourself?”

  “No.” He snorted and the left side of his mouth slashed upward. “I hired the best I could afford. But I insisted on knowing everything. Overseeing the work closely. Lyon’s is the only thing I’ve owned, and I wanted to understand every part.”

  “You really don’t trust anyone, do you?”

  “There are a few people I trust.” He narrowed an eye at her, and she was uncomfortably reminded that she’d already proven herself faithless in his eyes. More than once. “I can count them on three fingers.”

  “They must be extraordinary.” It irked Mina that she’d never be counted among those Nicholas Lyon trusted. “Why did you choose a shambles as the site for your club?”

  He shrugged. “Good location.”

  Mina waited. There had to be more.

  The duke let out a sigh. “I saw something others hadn’t. What it could become. I saw potential.”

  Mina felt a strange fluttering inside, as if a cage of sparrows had been freed inside her. “So you are capable of hope.”

  Shock softened his features again. A bit of warmth lit his eyes. “Only very occasionally.” He pulled back the lapels of his overcoat and shrugged the garment from his shoulders. “Would you hold this? Or, better yet, put it on and keep yourself warm.”

  Mina gathered the woolen coat in her arms, sinking her hands into the warmth he’d left behind. His scent wafted up, bergamot and something darker.

  Down on one knee, he braced his hands on the sloping roof tiles to get a closer look, and the crisscross pattern of bricks beneath him shifted.

  “Careful.” Mina hadn’t imagined the movement. The bricks beneath her feet shifted too. The slightest of movements.

  “Speaking of hope, I suspect that’s all that’s holding these bricks together. The mortar’s gone,” he said tightly. The bricks beneath him began to bow out toward the parapet edge, and a piece of the limestone facade emitted a terrible scratching groan as it moved.

  The duke got to his feet slowly, widening his stance for balance. Mina started forward and reached out a hand.

  “Don’t come closer,” he hissed. “Back away. Quickly.”

  Mina took one tentative step back but couldn’t make herself retreat any farther. She couldn’t leave him balanced on the edge of a crumbling stretch of stones.

  “Take my hand.” She bundled his overcoat under one arm and leaned forward, trying to find an extra inch of length in her arm. A vertigo swirl of dizziness pulled at her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the duke.

  “Stubborn woman,” he grumbled. Taking one long stride, he placed his boot closer to hers. “This patch is solid beneath my feet. Now turn around and head back to the stairs.”

  Mina looked down at the dark grooves between the stones where mortar should have been. She wasn’t at all certain the pathway wouldn’t crumble. “Just take my hand,” she insisted.

  If he fell, at least she’d have a hold of him. She stretched again, lifting off her boot heel, and lost her balance. Her body responded like metal to a magnet’s pull and she tipped toward the ledge. A scream burst from her throat.

  Her body went weightless, unbearably heavy, as her foot slid off the edge.

  Then Nicholas Lyon was there, leaning over, his hand latched onto her arm in a vise grip. “Hold on to me. And drop the bloody coat.”

  She let the overcoat fall and reached to grasp his shoulder. He immediately wrapped a hand around her waist and heaved her up.

  They landed in an awkward, half sitting, half reclining pile far too close to the edge of the three-story drop. Mina didn’t want to let go of him. He was warm and solid, and it was far preferable than focusing on the way her heart thrashed painfully.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, his breath coming fast. He settled his chin on the top of her head a moment, then cupped her cheek, tilting her face toward his. “Are you all right?”

  His gaze settled on her mouth, and he slid his thumb gently against her cheek.

  Mina watched as he studied her. For a man who seemed to know exactly what he wanted, he moved hesitantly, taking such care as he lowered his thumb to her mouth and traced the outline of her lips.

  She felt delicate under his tender exploration. Desirable. And she recognized the look in his eyes. The hunger and need. She felt it too. And she desperately wanted to touch him, to trace his mouth as he had hers and then replace her fingers with her lips.

  Mina’s pulse rushed in her ears as she held her breath, waiting, hoping. Yearning for what she couldn’t have.

  Then he shocked her. Lowering his head, he pressed his mouth to hers. One too-brief taste and he pulled back, then kissed her forehead. “Let’s get inside,” he whispered against her skin.

  He untangled himself and stood, keeping hold of her hand. “I’ll go first. You stay close behind.” A single long step and they both stood on a solid part of the walkway. “You go ahead of me, Miss Thorne, so I can make sure you don’t try to heave yourself over the edge again.”

  “Mina.”

  “What?”

  “Call me Mina.” The man had just kissed her, saved her, and she knew he hated the formality of titles and honorifics.

  He said nothing and released her. Mina feared she’d made an error in judgment. Or the duke had. Problem was, she’d enjoyed the feel of his lips against hers too much to count the experience as anything but pleasure.

  She followed him toward the doorway that led to an interior set of stairs. He encouraged her to go down first, but after descending only two steps, she turned back.

  “Never mind the name. Such familiarity would be improper.” Mercy, she was a ninny. She’d embarrassed him and herself. He was a duke. She was a steward. His steward. Perhaps throwing herself off the parapet walk would have been the better course.

  Do try to be proper, Mina. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind.

  “Sometimes propriety isn’t my first instinct,” she confessed.

  A rich, infectious sound reverberated against the stone walls. “I’ve noticed that about you. I rather admire it.” He dipped his head so they were eye to eye. “In addition to your stubbornness, and, of course, your short temper.”

  Did he truly like her for her failings? Her inability to behave as she ought, to be ladylike when she should. She still took umbrage at the bit about her temper.

  But Mina found she liked hearing him laugh. And the smile that accompanied his amusement? Devastating. Somehow, his toothy grin, framed by deep dimples on both cheeks, managed to make him both more enticing and infinitely more dangerous.

  “I fear we’d scandalize Scribb and Wilder if I call you Mina.” His forehead creased as if he was working out a thorny problem. “Of
course, I’d insist you call me by my name too.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, as if daring her to say it.

  Nicholas. Mina couldn’t bring herself to speak his name, but it echoed in her mind.

  “Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

  That sounded good. She longed for a cup of Mrs. Scribb’s oversteeped black tea and a blanket, and for her heart to beat at a normal rhythm. But she hadn’t accomplished anything she’d wished to.

  “I wanted to show you around the estate.” To showcase the beautiful parts, not the crumbling bits.

  “I’ve seen every inch of Enderley.”

  “But the garden—”

  “—has been cut back for the winter, I suspect.” He descended to the stair step just above her.

  Mina reached out to stop him going farther. Her palm landed on his chest, pressed against the buttons of his waistcoat and his firm muscles beneath. Mina dropped her hand, but she needed to stall him.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Lord Lyle’s horse.” She’d planned to confess all to him eventually, but the guilt of her deception weighed on her mind now more than ever.

  “You should have told me. Trusted me, as I must trust you. If you remain at Enderley when I leave, I’ll be relying on you to represent my interests, not engage in horse stealing.”

  “You can trust me.” The reminder that he would soon depart made her heart squeeze if as a fist had been wrapped around her middle.

  “No matter what I decide?” He pressed his hand against the wall next to her head. “What if I send the stallion back to Lyle? What if I told you to dismiss every member of the staff? ”

  Mina’s throat tightened until she could barely breathe. “Why would you?”

  “To start anew and be done with the past.”

  “Emma’s nineteen. Hildy is sixteen. They have nothing to do with the estate’s past. They never knew the father you hate so much.” Mina pressed her lips together. She hadn’t meant to speak so bluntly.

  “I see.” He huffed out a breath of frustration. “So you’ll do my bidding, and resent me for it every single day?”

  “Most dukes don’t bother with what their employees think of them.”

  Chuckling, he pushed off the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “What have I done to make you think I’ll be like most dukes?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “To be perfectly honest, I’d pass the title to Tobias if I could.”

  “Tobias would be an awful duke.”

  “Worse than me?” His voice had gone quiet, vulnerable. As if it mattered to him whether she thought he could embrace a role he loathed.

  “Definitely.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “That’s something, I guess.”

  “If you wish to be a good duke, I could help you.” Mina’s father had once described a steward’s work that way.

  “What would you suggest?” His gaze was wary, as if he’d agreed to a spoonful of medicine but was dreading the taste.

  Enderley came to the fore of Mina’s mind, as it so often did. If he planned to do better than his father and brother, taking care of his birthright was where he needed to start.

  Reaching into her pocket, she closed her hand around the list she’d prepared earlier in the morning.

  “This would be a good place to start.”

  Staring into her eyes, he reached for the folded list. Their fingers brushed and heat shot down Mina’s arm, then lower, to her middle, then her thighs. Like swallowing that bit of sherry he’d given her. One touch and her insides were warm.

  “You need to let go,” he said in a voice so low it made her shiver.

  Mina opened her fingers and took a step back. She was acting like a fool. Like that impetuous infatuated girl she’d once been. Such lovesick nonsense couldn’t happen this time. Her wayward heart would obey her.

  The first man she’d set her sights on had been a bad choice, but the Duke of Tremayne was an impossibility.

  As he examined her notations, both brows edged up his forehead. “This is a substantial list.” He flipped the page and found the rest. A muscle began pulsing in his cheek. “Might have been easier to note what did not require repair.”

  She couldn’t blame him for hating the burden of what his brother allowed to founder. Sympathy for the man kindled on a bone-deep level. It wasn’t his fault the estate had been ignored. She yearned to show him some part of Enderley that deserved saving.

  “There are things that aren’t on the list.”

  “What else? Another rotting room? A wall on the verge of collapse?”

  “Down here.” She descended the stairs and stopped at a small circular window set into the stones.

  He joined her, sharing the same step so that their bodies were pressed side by side. Hunching his shoulders, he peered through the old bubble-dotted glass.

  “Do you remember the tower? It’s the oldest standing piece of Enderley’s history.” Mina studied his profile and noticed his mouth tighten. “Some things here don’t need to be repaired. But they’re part of what makes the estate special.” Mina leaned in to peer over his shoulder.

  He turned so abruptly, she slammed her back against the wall to avoid a collision. “I want it pulled down.”

  “But—”

  “Burn the wooden structure inside and have the stones removed from the estate. Every one of them.” The ice in his voice matched the glacial blue of his eye. There was no warmth left between them. Not a shred of the man who’d saved her, kissed her, smiled and laughed with her. “Do it, Miss Thorne. I never want to see that tower again.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mina rubbed at her sleepy eyes and tried to focus on finishing off the morning’s correspondence. The previous duke’s creditors were losing patience, and bills kept arriving for debts he owed dozens of London businesses. She paid those she could and delayed those she couldn’t, but overdue accounts were the last topic she wished to broach with Nicholas this morning.

  The duke. She mustn’t think of him familiarly.

  Never mind that she knew how it felt to be wrapped in his arms and had spent a sleepless night thinking of the soft, heated press of his mouth. He’d kissed her to offer comfort. Nothing more.

  She did not need the complication of anything more. Even if she wanted it.

  A knock at her office door caused her muddled thoughts to scatter, and a moment later Wilder stepped through.

  She swallowed down her disappointment.

  “Mrs. Scribb says you didn’t take your breakfast this morning.” He carried a small tray bearing a cup of tea and a slice of Mrs. Darley’s glazed orange cake.

  Mina hadn’t slept well and had no appetite, but she smiled at the old butler, grateful for his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Wilder.”

  “The duke only took tea this morning too. Something ailing the pair of you?”

  “I’m not ill. Just busy.” Mina fought the heat she sensed crawling up her cheeks.

  The older man nudged up one brow. “Emma tells me you suffered a mishap on the parapet walk yesterday. I trust you weren’t injured.”

  “It was nothing. Though I suspect the duke is now convinced of the need for immediate repairs.” Mina’s heartbeat sped at the memory of her near fall. The too potent thought of Nicholas came, his hands reaching for her, his arms lending warmth and safety. Then a less pleasant memory. His face contorted in anger. His shouts echoing in the stairwell and his demand that she tear down the old tower.

  “The ballroom is an excellent place to start,” Wilder said. “I’m sure the master will soon see the merit of restoring Enderley as it should be.”

  “Tell me about the tower.” The man Mina wanted to ask wouldn’t wish to speak of it, and she had no desire to stoke his anger. But surely Wilder would know. He’d been at Enderley longer than all of them.

  The butler’s forehead buckled in a frown. His pale cheeks took on a bit of color. “Surely your father told you its history.”

  “Why would the duke wish to have i
t demolished?”

  “Demolished?” The old butler was shocked by the news. His lips fell open and he drew in a sharp breath before composing himself. “Dilapidation has set in. The structure is unsafe. Perhaps removal would be for the best.”

  “I thought our goal was to get the duke to appreciate the estate’s history, not destroy it.” Mina let out a sigh of frustration. Her plan to highlight Enderley’s assets and show Nicholas its merits had gotten off to a disastrous start. “Is there anything he’ll like here?”

  “He’s a man of business who appreciates turning a profit, I imagine. I understand he’s quite keen on investing in enterprises such as the railroad. Might the Wilcox farm interest him?”

  The Wilcoxes maintained the most successful of the many tenant farms on the estate, and thanks to Mina’s cousin, Colin, and his inventions, it was by far the most efficient.

  “Yes, of course.” Mina grinned and rose from her chair, excitement and anticipation sweeping away all remnants of fatigue. “A brilliant idea, Wilder.” She took a quick sip of the tea he’d delivered and broke off a bit of orange cake. “Is he in his study?”

  “Should be. Unless he’s gone for a wander.”

  Mina swept her fingers through her hair and straightened her bodice as she made her way across the hall. After how they’d parted the previous day, she’d dreaded approaching him. But now she had purpose, a plan to show him something about Enderley he couldn’t help but admire.

  She knocked softly and received no reply, then tested the handle and stepped inside.

  “Mercy,” she breathed at the sight before her.

  A tall vase lay shattered in half a dozen pieces on the carpet and the duke stood over the wreckage gripping one of his father’s ornamental swords.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” he said in a defensive tone. “I did not attack the pottery.”

  “Certainly not.” Mina glanced from the sword to the broken antiquity to the irritation on the duke’s face. “You’re just standing over it with a weapon drawn.”

  “I removed the sword from the wall to have a closer look and . . . collided with the bauble.” He stared down at the scattered shards. “Was it worth a lot of money?”