Reforming the Duke

by Keira Montclair

  “Oh, pah, you think I stayed at home every day while you were a child? How boring would that be? I loved your father, Philip, but you cannot spend every minute of every day together. Your father and I both agreed that we needed to have some interests that were ours alone. Oh, heavens, we would have made each other miserable otherwise.” She shook her head at the thought. “Actually, speaking of menus, perhaps I shall speak to Cook about our dinner tonight. Excuse me, Philip, would you?”

  Philip’s lips curved at the edges as his mother orchestrated a swift departure for the kitchens. He had to admit, she did appear to be active most of the time. Perhaps Sara had a point. Would she agree to the arrangement if he ensured she could continue making dresses?

  Briefly, his mind drew him back to a steaming bathtub. His body responded instantly. He found himself rearranging himself in his chair to make room for his erection. It befuddled him that the mere memory of her should have such an effect on him.

  His brother Adam strolled into the breakfast room.

  “What brings you home so early, Philip? Must have been a bad evening.” Adam smirked at him as he strode to the sideboard. He filled a plate and sat at the table with a smile.

  “There was nothing wrong with my evening. In fact, it was one of my more enjoyable evenings of late,” Philip answered as he sipped his tea, glancing at the newspaper so he didn’t have to look at his brother’s smug expression.

  “I would expect so. My guess is you had a little taste of the delicacy that was here with the broken finger. Dem, but she was a sweet thing.”

  Philip bounded out of his chair in a flash, grabbing his brother by the neck cloth before he slammed him against the wall. His plate went flying, striking a glass off the table, and the sound of glassware breaking brought his mother running into the room.

  “Rot it, let me go!” Adam squirmed under his grip.

  “Philip, stop acting like a madman this instant!” His mother’s voice reached the rafters.

  Red-faced and furious, he reacted instantly. “If I ever hear you speak of Lady Downey in a disrespectful manner in the future, I promise you, we will finish this outside,” he growled, inches from Adam’s face. “Do you understand me?”

  “Philip!” his mother shouted. “Enough!”

  “All right, I have it. She is yours,” Adam choked out, his face turning red. “If you hadn’t pledged you’d never fall in love with another woman, I would have kept my mouth shut.”

  Philip released his brother, who slumped down with his hand on his neck.

  “I do not have feelings for her,” Philip announced, proud of his calm tone. He certainly didn’t feel calm, although he didn’t understand why he should be so angry on Sara’s behalf. Such loose talk was not uncommon for Adam. He’d chastised his brother for it before, but it hadn’t bothered him this much in the past. “But I will not tolerate you talking about her as if she were a trollop.”

  Adam ran his hand across his throat before returning to the table. “You said she is a widow living alone.”

  “That does not mean she is a trollop!” Philip yelled.

  “Somehow, I don’t believe most of the females in the ton would agree with you. But I’ll cease.” His brother aimed a mock bow at him.

  The duchess folded her arms across her chest. “Although I dislike the way he chose to express himself, I have to agree with him, Adam. You are speaking inappropriately of Lady Downey. I will not have that type of talk in this house. Keep it at White’s. I don’t care to hear it.”

  “Sorry, Mother, you were not in the room at the time. It was not meant for your ears,” he offered sheepishly.

  “Don’t you know yet, young man, that my ears hear everything in this house?” Her finger pointed at him. “You should remember that. And, Philip, look at the mess you’ve made. Why, it will take the servants an hour to clean up after you.”

  “Pardon my thoughtlessness, Mother. I’ll have better control in the future.” He glared at his brother while he returned to his chair.

  A few moments later, Emma burst into the room with a smile on her face.“Oh my, wasn’t that a wonderful ball last night? Everyone complimented me on my dress. Even Lady Ardleigh thought I was the prettiest girl there. But I couldn’t agree with her. I must say that Lady Downey was the most beautiful. Do you remember her gown, Mother? The color was fabulous on her, and when she was dancing with Philip, the lavender was even more stunning. I also thought Lady Ardleigh’s gown was lovely. But I’m not surprised as she told me Lady Downey designed it for her.” Suddenly Emma stopped and glanced around the room. “Oh, goodness. What happened?”

  “Nothing, child. It was just a small accident. We’ll clean it up later. Please be careful of the glass in the corner.” His mother stepped into the hallway. “Celia? Could you clean up this glass when we are all seated? I don’t wish for it to be carried throughout the house.”

  Emma sat down at the table, eyeing her brothers to gauge their temperaments. “What was that loud noise earlier, Mother?”

  “Nothing, my dear. Do not concern yourself,” the duchess said.

  “Philip, are you and Lady Downey in a relationship? Is that the correct way to ask, Mother?” She blushed as she glanced at her mother.

  “No, we’re not, Emma.” He hid his face behind the newspaper again, hoping that would put an end to it.

  “Well, Philip, you should hear how all the ladies were talking about the two of you last night. They all think you are in a relationship now. And some of the things they were saying were not polite, if I do say so myself.”

  He couldn’t stop himself. He sprang out of his chair, tossing the paper onto the table. “That’s enough. I will not sit here and listen to any more gossip about me or Lady Downey.” He stalked out the door and down the hallway, heading for the stables. He could hear his mother’s chastisement all the way to the end of the hallway.

  “That is exactly why you do not belong at balls yet, young lady. You’re too young to understand the meaning of the word ‘discretion.’ You will not be going again for a while.”

  The last thing he heard was his sister bursting into tears.

  Philip propelled himself from the house as quickly as his feet would take him. He needed to get away. In a matter of days, his whole life had become focused on a young woman with chestnut locks—a turn of events he frankly didn’t understand given that he’d promised himself he’d never let another woman into his heart. The only way he could make sense of things would be if he removed himself to a peaceful environment.

  His lake soothed him like nothing else could. He took off his shirt and settled himself on the dock, his feet hanging off the end. His toy sailboat sat next to him, as it always did on such outings. Sighing, he cast his line out into the tranquil water.

  Sometime later, it struck him that his fishing spot was not casting its usual magic. His thoughts still lingered on Sara. Her quick and adamant rejection of his plan had gutted him. He’d thought it the perfect solution—she would be safe from Stinky, she wouldn’t have to work anymore, and he’d make wild passionate love to her every night. He would even pay off her husband’s gambling debts. What more could she want? Miranda had always begged to stay in his townhouse.

  His feelings frightened him, especially since he cared more about losing Sara after one night than he had about Caroline leaving. Perhaps a few passionate nights with her would cure him. Yes, that was the solution. He just had to convince her to spend time at his townhouse. Even after it was over, he’d take care of her. Make sure she was safe.

  But how could he persuade her?

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Sara arrived home, she was still reeling from her encounter with Philip. Her hands shook as she tried to fit the key in the lock. Once inside, she closed the front blinds and locked the door behind her. She searched her shop, making sure she was alone. There was no sign of forced entry or any intrusion into her space, so she hurried upstairs to change her clothing. She had plenty of sewing to do.
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  As she sat at her worktable, her mind ran over the events of last night. How could she have believed she was in love with such a man? True, the lovemaking had been wonderful, but maybe it was that way with most couples. Would she feel the same way in another man’s arms?

  There had to be another man she could care for who did not want to turn her into a strumpet. Even if she was now a widow, she still deserved respect, didn’t she? How could he even think she would just move in there, close her shop, and be sexually available to him whenever he wanted?

  Of course, her marriage had been almost the same way. The only things Duncan had wanted from her were her father’s money and sex, and the sex had been totally different from last night. Her husband had only cared about his own needs.

  At least the duke had taught her that women could also derive pleasure from the act. Now that she knew it was possible, she didn’t think she would ever marry again unless she was intimate with the man first. She would never again be bound in a loveless, passionless marriage.

  A noise sounded outside her back door. She jumped, only to realize it was an animal of some sort. Her overreaction gave her pause—perhaps it had been foolish of her to reject Philip’s offer so quickly. There was no denying the arrangement would have benefits: Stinky would no longer be a threat to her if she lived with the duke. Besides which, she would no longer have to worry about money. She loved her business, but she preferred designing dresses to sewing them. Sara tried to flex her broken finger. It was improving, but what would it be next time?

  Living with Philip would get rid of it all—the pain, the fear, and the insomnia.

  Of course, if she made that choice, she would no longer be able to visit with his mother or his sister. What would Mary think? Or worse, what would her mother and father think of her? Even though they were both dead, she hoped to reunite with them in heaven someday.

  Since she was an only child, both parents had fussed over her. Although she had no strong memories of her mother—just a sense of warmth and love—her father would always praise her whenever she did something particularly well. He’d smile at her so broadly the edges of his eyes would crinkle. “That’s my girl,” he’d say, patting her on the shoulder, “I’m so proud of you.”

  What would they think of her if she moved in with the duke?

  The tears finally came.

  ***

  A few days later, Sara sat cleaning the front room of the shop when the bell alerted her to customers. She turned to see the duchess and Emma enter with the duke directly behind them.

  “Good morn, Your Grace. How may I help you?” Sara gave a deep curtsy. Even though her stomach was full of butterflies at the sight of Philip, she vowed not to give in to her feelings.

  “Good morning to you, Lady Downey.” The duchess smiled as she advanced toward her. “We are here to see if one of Emma’s walking dresses is ready.”

  “Why, yes, Your Grace, I just finished two yesterday.”

  “Goodness, my dear, how do you do so much in a day?” Mary asked.

  “Oh, it was nothing. I enjoy sewing. It relaxes me.” Sara stole a glance at the duke over Mary’s shoulder. Blast it, did he have to be so devastatingly handsome? His dark hair curled slightly at his neck. She longed to run her fingers through those locks the way she had the other night. However, when she gazed into his eyes, she saw the stark coldness had returned. There was no sign of the warmth she’d savored in his townhouse.

  Ah, so this was how the world worked. Sweet smiles, warm caresses, and soft words until the act was done. Then everything returned to the way it was before. Why did that upset her? Had she really thought he would stroll up and kiss her in front of his mother? No, of course not, but at least he could have smiled at her. His face was grim as ever. His coldness confirmed she had made the right choice. If this was how he would treat her after making love to her, she did not want anything to do with him.

  She dipped her head to hide her blush. To prevent herself from feeling any more awkward, she quickly turned away, saying to the St. James women, “Follow me, please. I will gather the gowns from the other room.”

  ***

  Philip paced in the front room. He was glad Sara had taken his mother and sister to the other room. Bloody hell, but the woman made him hard instantly. He’d forced himself to think of Caroline just to get himself back under control.

  Damnation, he and Sara had been fabulous together. He pulled on his cravat. He hadn’t expected to have this response. His desire for her should be lessening, not increasing. Why did she have such a profound effect on him?

  “Lady Downey, the gowns are absolutely fetching. Thank you so much for your hard work,” his mother said as she returned to the front room.

  “I especially love the pale blue gown. The pastel ribbons across the skirt are beautiful. I have never seen anything so clever!” Emma remarked. “Oh, Your Grace, wait until you see the designs Lady Downey has made for me. I don’t ever want to go to another dressmaker. She is by far the most talented. I’m sure you agree with me, don’t you, Mother?”

  “Yes, my dear.” Mary ushered her daughter to the door. “Philip, we’ll be outside in the carriage. Please take care of everything for me, won’t you? Thank you again, Sara.” She nodded to Sara as she exited the shop.

  Philip paid Sara what he owed her for the gowns, and when their fingers brushed, she jerked her hand back as if she’d been burned.

  He gazed into her eyes. “I did not think you minded my touch, Sara.” His voice was husky, his words soft. He breathed in her scent and his mind reeled with all the sensations that one breath brought him. He thought of how wonderful she had tasted, about how good they had been together. He wanted her again. No, he had to have her again.

  Her cheeks flushed as her eyes lowered. “I didn’t mind your touch the other night, Your Grace, but things have changed.” She brushed a stray hair away from her face.

  Philip reached for her face, intending to stroke his fingers across her cheek, but stopped. “Have you given my proposal any more thought? It does not have to be this way. You know we’re fantastic together. Come to my townhouse tonight.” He ached to run his hands down her arms again, to cup her breasts. To kiss her.

  Sara stepped back. She looked up at him then glanced away. “I’m sorry, but I cannot do that. Thank you for your kind offer, but I think it best that I stay here.” She swallowed as her hands fisted in her dress.

  He needed to touch her, taste her, but propriety held him back—that and the fact that his mother and sister were watching their every move through the window. Instead, he said, “Sara, you’re not safe here.”

  “I can’t do it. I need to stay here and finish my work.” Playing with a thimble, Sara added in a whisper, “I don’t wish to lose my self-respect, even though a small part of me wishes I didn’t care so much.”

  She’d refused him again. He’d hoped she would change her mind once she had the chance to consider his offer, but she’d trampled on his heart, just like Caroline. “Ah, the little modiste is above me, is that it, Sara?” he said, barely recognizing his cold, distant voice. “Do you forget your station?”

  He stared at her quivering chin as the tears gathered in her lashes.

  Guilt stabbed into him—since when did he give a toss about stations?—but he couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t grovel. She’d made herself quite clear, hadn’t she? Suddenly desperate to get away, he turned on his heel and slammed the door on his way out.

  Chapter Twenty

  Philip was quiet in the carriage, his mind firmly fixed on Sara. Why the hell had he treated her so poorly?

  Finally, his mother spoke. “Why don’t you drop Emma and me at the orphanage? You can pick us up later.”

  “Mother, I can wait if you need me to.” He stared blankly out the window.

  “No need. Lady Downey gave us all these new outfits for the children at the orphanage.”

  Philip turned his head sharply to stare at his mother, only then taking
in the two large sacks she’d carried away from the dressmaker’s shop. “She what?”

  “Sara cannot bear to throw out good material so she puts scraps of fabric together for the children. She asked me to take these outfits to the orphanage. There is quite a bit of clothing here, and it will take us some time to sort through it all.”

  He stared at his mother in shock.

  “Philip, are you quite all right?” Emma asked.

  “Yes, of course. I will return for you in two hours. Will that be sufficient?”

  “Oh, certainly. That would be wonderful.”

  After leaving off his mother and sister, Philip made his way into White’s and strode into the far room. Ardleigh sat at his usual table, thumbing through the newspaper.

  “Greetings, Brentwood. What has put you in such a sour mood today?” Ardleigh queried with a smile.

  Philip sat across from his friend. “It certainly isn’t any of your business, but I was hoping to move a certain widow into my townhouse.”

  “Ah.” Ardleigh nodded. “Lady Downey turned you down. Perhaps you are going about it in the wrong way. Women do expect to be treated with care. You two must have had quite a night together after the ball.”

  “As it happens, it was an excellent night. At least, it was for me. Apparently, not so for a certain widow.”

  “Brentwood, you’ve lost your charm, have you?” Ardleigh said with a chuckle. “Did you ask her kindly or order her to do your bidding?”

  “It isn’t important how I asked her, what matters is her refusal. Why ever would a dressmaker refuse a duke? I could take care of her and protect her from the threats to her safety. What is her problem?”

  “Since I happen to be familiar with the lady in question, perhaps it could be self-respect? Perhaps the lady doesn’t wish to be known as a mistress. She’s very intelligent, Brentwood, not your usual twit. I doubt she would be happy in your townhouse.”

  “She can spend my money and never have to work as a modiste again. What more could she want?” Philip loosened his cravat. “That was all Caroline cared about, jewels and more jewels.”