The Good, the Bad, and the Duke

by Janna MacGregor

  Then, like a bolt of lightning, he understood he was going home with more than Rufina.

  His old companion, loneliness, sidled up next to him with the promise to keep him company.

  Chapter Twenty

  After Paul’s departure, silence reigned within the Duke and Duchess of Renton’s intimate dining room. The pounding in Daphne’s heart lit a fire of anger that refused to die and caused her blood to boil.

  “That was beneath you, Pembrooke,” she announced, not hiding her rebuke. “Mother and Renton invited Paul into their home to share a meal and friendship. Not only were you rude to him, but to them also. You should be ashamed.”

  Her mother reached over and squeezed her hand. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go home and retire? Renton and I will come over tomorrow to discuss how to make this right with Southart.”

  Renton caught her mother’s gaze and nodded. Empathy and sadness lined his face for his wife’s discomfort. “Of course, my love. That’s sound advice. Cooler heads will prevail in the morning.”

  “No, Daphne,” Alex warned, his deep baritone laced with resolution. “I’ll not be ashamed for trying to protect my sister from ruin or heartbreak. He leaves everything he touches in shambles.”

  Somerton turned his solemn gaze to hers. “Daphne, your brother is only concerned for your well-being.”

  “Oh really, Somerton?” she hissed. Though her ingrained manners dictated she not be sarcastic, tonight called for a different type of comportment. “If he’s so concerned for my well-being, why would he embarrass my dearest friend and Mother’s guest?”

  “Not here, Daphne,” Alex bit out.

  Emma laid her hand on Somerton’s arm. “If both of you had seen the way Paul looked at Daphne in the salon before you arrived, you would have seen his true regard. I’d say he cares deeply for her.” Emma turned her gaze to Claire. “Wouldn’t you agree, Claire?”

  Claire patted her mouth with the serviette, the movement an obvious attempt to gather her thoughts. Slowly, she placed the cloth on the table and turned to Alex. “I never like to disagree with you, but I agree with Emma. Daphne and Paul are friends, dear friends, I might add. Your sister is a wonderful judge of character. As such, we shouldn’t make judgments about him until we know more. His effort to start a hospital that will benefit those in need is another example that he’s taking his ducal responsibility seriously.”

  Ignoring everyone, Alex took a sip of wine.

  Emma straightened in her chair. “Alex, Southart’s care for your sister during the Christmas holiday was—”

  “Secretive and cowardly,” Nick added.

  “He didn’t come and confess what he’d done,” Alex argued.

  The thin restraint Daphne had on her anger broke free. Furious, she stood and faced both men. “Neither of you has any idea what you’re talking about. He’s been nothing but gracious and kind to me. When he first discovered I was alone, he offered one of his carriages and a maid so I could travel to Pemhill. On Christmas morning, he offered to stay at the house until you arrived and personally explain to you what had happened. I asked him not to.”

  Not after she’d discovered that The Midnight Cryer had published her fantasy about Paul.

  “Proves my point entirely. Any man of honor would have stayed and seen the situation fully resolved.” Alex stood confronting her.

  “It was my duty, not his, to tell you what had happened,” she countered.

  “Daph, he’ll break your heart,” The gentleness and conviction in Alex’s voice cut the distance between them. “I’ve seen it countless times.”

  “Oh, please. What a ludicrous idea,” she scoffed. “He’d never hurt me. He’s the only one who puts me first.” She closed her eyes briefly and willed her anger to abate, then lifted her chin for courage. “Alex?”

  Her brother’s face had softened, his eyes lined with pain.

  God, she didn’t want to hurt her brother or anyone at the table, but she’d not let him and Somerton continue in their misperceptions of Paul. She’d not let her brother malign the man she loved with all her heart.

  “Alex, if you don’t accept Paul and what he means to me, you’ll leave me no choice. If forced to choose between him and my family…” She paused and held her brother’s gaze. “I’ll go with him.” She turned her piercing stare to her stepbrother. “The same goes for you, Somerton. Whether either of you believes my reasons are sound makes little difference.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed. “My God, this isn’t friendship we’re discussing. It goes much deeper, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does.” She’d not reveal her regard for Paul in this fashion. Not when she and Alex were so angry. She turned and addressed the others. “Mother, thank you for dinner. It meant the world to me.” She nodded her thanks to Renton.

  “Daphne, my dear. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Renton offered.

  She forced a smile, then turned to her best friends in the world, Emma and Claire. “Thank you both for your support. You’re not only my family, but my greatest strength and truest friends.”

  Without a glance back, she left the room and soon was in a Pembrooke carriage. Thankfully, Mavis hadn’t accompanied her this evening, which made her decision all the easier. She leaned out the carriage and directed the driver to take her to the Duke of Southart’s residence.

  She’d not rest until she told Paul how sorry she was for her family’s behavior. More important, tonight she’d tell him her true feelings.

  She loved him and wanted a life with him.

  As his wife.

  * * *

  Paul sat at his desk with a roaring fire lighting the room. Flashes of red and gold lit the papers strewn across his desk. A letter from his father’s solicitor reminded him of their appointment tomorrow. The old duke’s one last rant at Paul’s failings would be delivered in the morning.

  There was really no need for his father to have extended the effort, as Paul had been reminded ad nauseam about his own deficiencies this evening. He struggled to comprehend how in the world something so rare and pure as his regard for Daphne could have turned into his greatest regret. The humiliation on her face had been a punch to his gut, one he vowed never to be a part of again.

  Rufina lay draped around Paul’s neck like a pet albatross. How fitting that the tiny purring mass of fur was a reminder of how devastatingly dire the entire night had been.

  He shook his head at the sentiment. At least the evening held one bright spot. A small girl with bright gray eyes had been his own guardian angel tonight, offering something that few in this world wanted from him—friendship. Margaret had recognized his sadness immediately, and her gift had already brought him comfort—her small kitten, Rufina, a keepsake he’d cherish.

  He chuckled at Margaret calling him Her Grace. Indeed, he was Daphne’s, or at least that black-haired siren was his—someone he’d treasure for the rest of his days, even if they couldn’t share a life together. He raised his gaze from the papers on his desk to the fire. The reality of his bleak future returned.

  The study door opened. Assuming it was a footman attending to the fire, Paul shifted his gaze back to the pile of papers on his desk. Rufina stretched, then snuggled closer. Paul repositioned the kitten so she wouldn’t fall, while giving a few scratches behind the ear.

  “What do you have around your neck?” Daphne stood before him more beautiful than ever. Her tentative smile had a force that was greater than the moon’s pull on the Earth. “Is that Rufina?”

  He fought with every ounce of his strength not to rush and take her in his arms. Instead, he nodded once. “Margaret gave her to me when I was leaving. If she wants her back, you should take her.”

  She shook her head. Her presence resembled a shimmering spirit he had suddenly conjured from his thoughts. “No. I’m sure Margaret and her mother are thankful you’ve taken Rufina as your own. Tomorrow, the kitten was to make her new residence at one of the Pemhill barns. You’ve spared Rufina the long trip and Margaret unnec
essary tears.”

  “That’s me, the knight in shining armor,” he quipped sarcastically. “At least to a little girl.”

  “A twenty-five-year-old girl happens to think so, too.” Daphne’s whisper was as fragile as a moonbeam’s dance across the floor on a cloudy night.

  “Sweetheart, I’m the antithesis of a knight or a hero.” Having forgotten the kitten wrapped around his neck, he leaned back in his chair, only to have the little one clawing at his neck to remain.

  Piqued that her sleep was soundly disturbed, Rufina jumped from his shoulder to the desk. Paul scooped the bundle of fur in his hands and set the kitten on the floor. She gave a little stretch, then meandered on the hunt for a cozy chair in the front of the fire where she could curl into a ball.

  “What are you doing here?” Paul asked, then added quickly, “Not that I mind.” Truthfully, it felt so right to have her with him at home. “But shouldn’t you be with your family? What if someone sees you here?”

  She stared without uttering a word. The firelight danced with abandon about her ebony-colored tresses. Such a vision reminded him that he’d sell his soul for one more night with her.

  “I don’t care what others think. I must tell you…” She cleared her throat. She studied the floor for a moment, then forced her gaze to his. “I confronted Somerton and Alex about their boorish behavior toward you.”

  His body stiffened, but he forced himself to relax. He raised his right hand to adjust his left cuff, then dropped it. He was well aware that it was a protective action, but the well-honed movement was as natural for him as breathing—particularly after all the practice he’d had with his father. Deep down, he knew he didn’t need to be defensive with her. “Why would you go against your family?”

  She chewed on her lips, then with a flutter of her hands, she wrapped her arms around her waist in a protective gesture.

  He stilled at the sight. Momentarily robbed of the ability to think or breathe, he inhaled sharply. He stood slowly, never taking his eyes from hers. Whatever she was about to tell him was excruciating painful for her, and he’d do anything to protect her from any unnecessary heartache or worry—particularly since he’d caused it.

  He clenched his fist—the need to take her in his arms turned into a raging hunger, a need he had no right to satisfy. He circled the desk and leaned against it. Like a selfish beast, he craved her and her presence. He wouldn’t touch her, but he could feast on the sight of her.

  “It wouldn’t be honest for either of us if I don’t say what I’m feeling.” Her quiet determination showed her true strength of character.

  The woman who stood before him deserved every happiness life could offer, particularly after all the sorrow she’d experienced. If he had the power, she’d never suffer any further worry or hurt if he had anything to do about it.

  She took one hesitant step nearer, keeping her arms wrapped around her waist. “I … I meant every word I said to my family because…”

  The room grew silent with only the fire crackling. “Because why, sweetheart?” he coaxed tenderly.

  The lines around her eyes betrayed her torment, but she tilted her chin and looked him straight in the eyes. “Because I love you.” She swallowed but never took her gaze from his. “I told them I’d not forsake you.”

  In two strides, he reached her side and took her into his arms. With his hand around the nape of her neck, he pulled her tight. His heartbeat pounded a staccato rhythm as he rocked her gently in his embrace.

  “Believe it or not, that’s what I was trying to tell you in the salon. But I couldn’t share my feelings with you because of all the interruptions.” He tilted her face and concentrated on all her steadfast beauty. “I love you and want to marry you.”

  Her shyness melted into joy, and the sight intoxicated him more than a bottle of champagne.

  Before he could continue, he had to make her understand what marriage to him would cost her. “If you agree to marry me, your brother might not have anything to do with you. He might expect Claire to do the same. I imagine the same would be true of Somerton. I can’t ask that of you.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No. I don’t believe it for one second. Alex wouldn’t do that, or allow the others to. I believe his stubbornness is born from his grief over Alice’s death. He’s trying to protect me, but he’s making me miserable.” She smiled. “No matter what, Claire loves me, too, and would never cease caring for me. And Emma? She’s my best friend. Nothing would keep us apart.”

  She grasped the lapels of his evening coat and stared at her fingers. “But you see, it makes little difference.” Her gaze slowly crept upward until the certitude in her eyes nearly blinded him. “If I can’t at least have the chance to build a life with you, the rest of it doesn’t matter.”

  “A break between you and your family might never be repaired. It would be beyond selfish of me to take you from something that is forever yours. Since I don’t have a family, in my eyes that is even more important. What I wouldn’t do to have a family.” He shook his head gently. It was madness to convince her otherwise, but he loved her too much to have her sacrifice her family. “It’s too precious, Daphne.” He stroked her hair, knowing he shouldn’t touch her. It would become harder to convince her not to abandon her family. But he needed to feel her right now.

  “Only Alex and Somerton are the ones against it. With time, they’ll change their opinion.” She gazed at him with conviction and the utter certainty of her decision shone in her eyes. “I’m not saying this out of anger. I meant what I said. I want only you. If you don’t want the risk of alienating them for your own reasons, that’s your prerogative. But I’ve made my decision.”

  The depth of her love became crystal clear, and that simple fact humbled him like none other.

  He lowered his mouth to hers, then worshiped her lips—worshiped her. With each kiss, his desire grew until it became overpowering. She was the most precious thing he’d ever held in his arms. With infinite care, he kissed her, trying to bank the fire that roared through his body. She was his, and he wanted her in his bed tonight. He wanted to make love to her until neither of them could remember what days had passed—only that their future lay with each other. His body hummed and his cock throbbed the more he kissed her. On a sigh, she parted her lips, and like a starving man, he took what she offered. The moan that escaped her was a heady sound, one that gave him absolution from all his sins, and he took the freedom she offered. With his tongue, he explored her mouth. Nothing would be rushed tonight. This was a passion built on love—a completely different encounter from anything he’d ever experienced.

  With infinite ease, he broke away from her beguiling kisses and kissed the top of her forehead. She was so precious to him, and he wanted her with every inch of his being. He leaned back but kept her locked in his arms. “Lady Daphne Charlotte Hallworth, will you make me the happiest man on this earth and marry me?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “The answer is yes.”

  “Then we should seal our betrothal with a kiss,” he whispered. Always the consummate lover, he’d never experienced any nervousness around a woman. But tonight, with Daphne and this declaration of love between them, he wanted everything perfect. He wanted to show her how much he loved her. He took her in a kiss, one that caused him to lose himself in her embrace. Lose himself in her goodness.

  But he also found his bearings—found his worth—in her love.

  With this woman, he could become the duke Robbie and his father always expected him to be.

  He kissed a path across her cheek until he nipped at her earlobe. “Moonbeam, would it be presumptuous of me to ask you to my chamber? I have an overwhelming desire to make love to my fiancée.”

  Her cheeks turned a glorious shade of red, and she nodded. “And I have overriding passion to make love to my fiancé.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Paul took Daphne’s hand and led he
r to the door. Still holding her hand, he turned toward her. With his back to the door, Paul swiftly kissed her as he turned the knob. With a blazing smile worthy of a consummate rogue, he tugged her out into the hallway. With her thoughts in shambles from his kisses, she followed.

  From nowhere, her mind righted itself and insisted on the appearance of propriety. If the servants saw her enter his chambers, they’d wonder what they were doing, or worse, they’d know what she and Paul were doing. What kind of a duchess would they think he’d married? Suddenly, she pulled him to a stop.

  His winsome and all too fetching smile eliminated her hesitation. Tonight, all her dreams had come true. No matter what her brother or Somerton thought, Paul was a wonderful man—a kind man. A man who would be the perfect husband and partner for her.

  He tilted his head, obviously confused by her behavior.

  “The servants,” she whispered. “I don’t want them to see us like this.”

  “Like what?” he teased. “You ready to have your wicked way with me while I devour the woman I love?”

  An avalanche of feelings rolled through her. Life with Paul would never be dull or tame in the least. They’d be lovers their entire life, she was sure of it. “They’ll think you’re devouring a woman of low morals.”

  “I don’t really care what they think, Moonbeam,” he whispered as he stole another kiss.

  “I do.” At his touch, she leaned toward him ready to tie their lives and love together. But not like this.

  He answered with a single nod of his head. “That’s all the reason I need. Come with me.”

  He took her hand in his and led her to a staircase at the end of the hallway. More opulent than a servants’ staircase, the wide granite structure was beautiful, with carved marble busts of gods and goddesses acting as support posts along the way. “What is this?” she asked.

  “One of my ancestors thought of this for the ease of his duchess. It leads to the nursery above the ducal chambers, with an exit off the family floor. The idea was that it was a straight path from the kitchen to the family floor to the nursery.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I never really appreciated it before, but tonight it’s my favorite part of the house.”