A Duke She Can't Refuse

by Gemma Blackwood

  “A book of music,” she breathed, as the title page was revealed.

  “Duets,” he said. “I know you like to play, and I suspected you preferred company to practising alone.”

  She hugged it to her chest, careful not to bend it. “It is perfect!”

  He glanced down diffidently, but he was smiling. “Perhaps you can play some with Isobel when you come to visit.”

  “Of course!” She took a step towards him. “Alexander…”

  It was the first time she had used his first name. It felt almost sinful. He was a duke, and she was only Miss Daisy Morton.

  But what she had to say next was too important, too personal for Your Grace or Duke.

  “What is it?” he asked, meeting her eyes with that steady grey gaze.

  “There is something I want before I am certain that we should go ahead.” Daisy drew her dry bottom lip into her mouth to moisten it.

  “Anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable –”

  “I want you to kiss me.”

  There. She’d said it. It could not be unsaid. It was done.

  Alexander froze, a breath caught halfway into his chest. He nodded once, carefully, and moved towards her. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and pressed his lips to her forehead.

  A rush of warmth ran down to the tips of Daisy’s toes, but it was not enough. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know,” he said. The sadness was back in his eyes. That distant look that made it seem he was gazing a hundred years into the past. “But that is not a good idea.”

  She forced a smile. “On the contrary, I think it is a rather excellent one.”

  “No, Daisy. My answer is no.” He lifted her chin with his finger. His eyes were tracing the contours of her lips. In that moment, she knew that she had tempted him. That he wanted her – however fleetingly.

  Knowing that only made it worse.

  “You must remember what we agreed,” he said. “If I thought you were in danger of falling in love, I would call a halt to our engagement at once. You said you would be honest with me. Is there any risk of love?”

  Something stung deep in her chest, as though he had slapped her directly in the soul. “Who said anything about love? I asked for a kiss, that’s all.”

  He tilted his head to one side, regarding her with cool curiosity. “Do kisses mean so little to you? You cannot have had many.”

  “Plenty,” she lied. “More than I can count.”

  He chuckled. At last, a crack in the armour. “Honesty, Daisy. You promised me honesty.”

  “Drat.” She tossed her shoulders, shrugging his hands away. “Well, what is it to you how many men I have kissed?”

  “Because,” he said, with a sternness that made her jump and stare at him, “the first man to kiss you must be one who deserves it. Someone who does more than admire your spirit, or notice your beauty, or smile when you tease him. He must adore you. He must want that kiss so desperately that all his better instincts desert him. If he does not, he will not be good enough. I am not saving your reputation so that you can make a match with someone who thinks you anything less than perfection.”

  Daisy raised a hand and brushed her fingers against her lips. They tingled as though the kiss Alexander had imagined for her had really happened. Desperate, passionate, stealing the breath from her.

  “And that man is not me,” Alexander concluded, the fire leaving his eyes. “It can never be me. So do not get it into your head that kissing me is a good idea. I assure you, it is quite the opposite.”

  He straightened out his jacket and offered her his arm. “We ought to go into the drawing room and announce our engagement before your brother hunts me down with a pistol. Are you ready?”

  Daisy had never been less ready for anything in her life. Her head was whirling, her thoughts a mess.

  She had never really wanted to kiss anyone before. She had been asked several times, naturally. Once she had even been forced to make judicious use of a glass of iced lemonade when a certain gentleman received entirely the wrong impression from her friendliness.

  How was it possible that Alexander’s rejection was a thousand times more alluring than any other man’s persistence?

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Let’s do it before we lose our nerve.”

  5

  In the days immediately following their engagement, Alexander made himself a paragon of polite distance. It was out of necessity as much as anything else. The brightness in Daisy’s eyes when she’d asked him to kiss her was never far from his mind.

  Nor was her disappointment when he refused.

  Perhaps Ralph was right to be suspicious of him. At this rate, he would end up sacrificing Daisy’s heart to save her reputation.

  So, when he called on her, he commented on the weather and asked after her mother’s health. When they met at card parties or evening engagements, he offered her his arm, holding it rigidly out from his body so that he did not risk brushing against her. When she suggested they should walk alone together through the lovely gardens at a house party on the outskirts of London, he reminded her that their goals were best served by showing themselves in public.

  He knew he was disappointing her. How far he must be from her dreams of being wooed by a duke! And yet she remained as self-assured as ever.

  Only one moment saw a break in his composure. Daisy and her mother had come to call upon the Balfour ladies, though everyone knew they were really calling upon him. Of Alexander’s sisters, only Selina knew the truth behind the engagement. Alexander hated lying to his siblings, especially where it concerned their friend, but he knew them too well to trust that none of them would accidentally let the secret slip.

  Besides, it was hardly the first time he had kept an important matter hidden.

  Daisy and Isobel were sharing the stool at the pianoforte, their hands crossing over each other’s and their laughter mingling with the twinkling duet they were playing. For once, he did not have to worry about Isobel’s spirits. Pleasure shone in her face as Daisy insisted on playing faster, faster, faster, until both girls threw up their hands and dissolved in merriment.

  “Bravo!” Alexander called, clapping his hands. “An encore! I demand an encore!”

  Isobel rose from the instrument, her face glowing with effort. “I cannot go on!” she declared. “My hands are liable to fall off if I play any more!”

  “Come here and take some tea.” Selina, ever the perfect hostess, had seen to it that their finest china and best tea were out for Daisy and her mother. Lady Peyton was sipping contentedly from a teacup, her eyes flickering between Alexander and her daughter as she pretended to listen to one of Anthea’s diatribes on politics.

  Just before Isobel reached the tea table, Selina leaned across to Alexander. “You mustn’t let your fiancée get lonely.”

  Alexander’s eyes darted towards Daisy. She was leafing through the music Isobel had left on the piano, entirely oblivious to everything else in the room. Her dark hair was pinned up, but a few soft locks had fallen down to frame her delicate jawline.

  It only took a second for Alexander to forget his resolution to keep a steady distance. Before he knew it, he was standing at Daisy’s side.

  “I thought I might assist you by turning the pages,” he suggested. Daisy glanced at him, mischief in her eyes, then turned back deliberately to her music.

  “My, my. Such a variety to choose from!” She sighed and hummed a few notes to herself as she leafed through the sheets.

  Alexander was not fooled. She was pleased that he had come to stand near her. And her pleasure made him glad.

  “I think I will try this one.” Daisy settled her choice on the music stand. Alexander recognised the piece. It was the overture to a recent opera, altered to become a piano solo. There were at least ten pages to turn.

  He would be required for some time.

  Daisy caught his eye, and he did not have to guess what she was thinking. The way she bit her li
p to hide her smile made it perfectly clear that she knew she had caught him and rejoiced in it. “Can you spare the time, Alexander?”

  He took up his place at her side. He could hardly object now.

  Not that he particularly wanted to.

  Daisy raised her hands, shook them out dramatically, and let them fall onto the keys. Her fingers moved over the instrument with ease. He could only imagine the hours of practice she had expended to read music so flawlessly at first sight.

  There was nothing practiced about her now. She played as easily as she laughed.

  The piece was soft and slow, with twinkling high notes and an undercurrent of deep passion from the lower keys. Alexander’s breathing slowed until it kept time with the steady rhythm of Daisy’s left hand.

  His own hand rose and settled lightly between Daisy’s shoulder blades. She did not acknowledge him.

  Here, he could feel her body sway as the music took her from one end of the piano to the other. There was no tension in her shoulders. She was perfectly relaxed. Lost in the music, perhaps. Comfortable beneath his touch, certainly.

  He was more than comfortable standing there with his hand grazing the gauzy fichu about her shoulders. Contentment blossomed in his fingertips, moved up his arm with the pumping of his blood, and settled in his chest. It was good to be near her.

  Daisy gave a sharp nod. She played a few more bars, and the music stopped. Alexander blinked, tugging his hand back to his side.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “The page,” she said. “Did you lose your place?”

  He had. In more ways than one. “I apologise.” He turned the page swiftly, not failing to see that Daisy’s pink lower lip was caught between her teeth once more. She was hiding a smile – whether of mockery or satisfaction, he could not tell.

  He kept a good few inches between them for the rest of the piece and was careful not to let his eyes stray to the strands of dark hair falling against her pale neck again.

  That evening, as Alexander lay in bed with the image of Daisy at the piano appearing to him each time he closed his eyes, he finally admitted to himself what he had hoped to ignore.

  Yes, he wanted Daisy. He would be a fool not to.

  And she admired him, too. That made everything much easier… and much, much more difficult.

  If she were a sophisticated society lady, expert in flirtation and practised in guarding her heart, things would be different. He would be able to indulge his baser desires without compunction. Steal her kisses, tempt her with caresses, let her entice him to a private rendezvous whenever the mood took her.

  But Daisy was something fresher, more innocent, infinitely more precious than that. She hardly knew what she was doing when she asked him to kiss her. She was ready to open herself to him, freely and easily, and invite him into her heart – a place where he did not deserve to be.

  Alexander could not offer her love. Even if he had wanted to dive headfirst into romance – and, alluring as Daisy was, he truly did not – there were rules he had set in place for himself that could not be broken. Rules designed to protect both himself and those under his care.

  The darkness of his bedroom deepened until it was hauntingly reminiscent of a darkness he had once walked through as a much younger man, bare feet padding down into soft, wet grass. A slow walk, because he dreaded what was at the end of it – but not too slow, because even then he could not shy away from the tragedy of his own making.

  Alexander sat up abruptly and tore the bed curtains aside. Moonlight streamed in through the window, cutting a silver line across his pillow. The light chased away the ten-year-old memory just before the worst of it replayed in his ears.

  He would never have thought a sound could reverberate for a decade, but his sister’s screaming was no ordinary noise.

  Sweating, he pushed off the bedsheets and went to the window, flinging it open to let in the night air. His hot face cooled, as did his thoughts.

  The way ahead was clear. He had sworn that he would not allow Selina to suffer alone for the fatal mistake he had once made. Not without serving his own life sentence beside her. His betrothal to Daisy would remain exactly what it was – a sham. What he felt for her was physical attraction, nothing more. Easily triggered by an eager young admirer, and just as easily set aside.

  He owed too great a debt to the ghosts of the past to hope for anything more.

  6

  “Stop here!” Daisy called to her driver, doing her best to sound as if nothing was wrong. The open carriage came to a halt, the horses prancing as they were abruptly pulled up.

  The driver turned to her and touched his hat respectfully, a frown on his face. “Are you sure, Miss Morton? We’re some way from the park.”

  “I only need a moment.” Daisy gathered up her skirts and set a hand on the side of the carriage, jumping down without waiting for the footman’s hand. “I want to call on Lady Edith. I will be back out again soon.”

  The driver’s eyebrows knit together. “Now, Miss, your brother told me to take you around the park for some fresh air, not to go calling about town. I don’t know that I can rightly disobey him.”

  “I won’t get you into trouble,” said Daisy, giving him her most innocent smile. “He won’t object to my calling on Edith. And I’ll only be two minutes, I promise.”

  Her heart juddered painfully for the few seconds it took for the driver to relent.

  “Very well, Miss. You know best.” He tapped his nose. “I won’t mention it to Lord Northmere.”

  “Thank you!” Daisy turned her back on him almost before the words left her mouth and dashed for the Balfours’ front door with a haste that would have made her mother tut alarmingly. She rapped the door knocker several more times than was necessary.

  “Please hurry, please hurry, please hurry,” she whispered to herself, hopping from one foot to the other. The elderly butler was not known for his prompt responses, but her hammering must have had some effect, for he opened the door with alacrity.

  “Miss Morton!” he exclaimed, bowing. “I am afraid the ladies are not at home.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Daisy, tiptoeing up to peer over his shoulder into the empty hallway. “Lady Edith told me they would be visiting with Mrs Heywood today. Would you be kind enough to let me in anyway? I’m afraid I left something behind when I was last here. Something very important.”

  The butler did not step aside. Daisy clenched her teeth and forced herself to keep smiling. “Do let me know what it is, Miss, and I will fetch it for you at once.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t,” she said. “It’s… It’s quite difficult to describe. May I not come in to search for it? I am sure the duke won’t mind.”

  “That is the problem, Miss. The duke has remained at home today.” The butler lowered his voice. “You are unaccompanied, Miss, and attempting to call upon a gentleman. It wouldn’t be proper for me to let you in under such circumstances.”

  “I don’t care a fig for what’s proper!” Daisy cried in frustration. How typical of Alexander to employ a butler even more deeply enamoured with propriety than he was himself! “Please call His Grace at once. He will not object to my coming in.”

  That was a risky gamble. The butler was perfectly correct, after all. It was simply not done for an unmarried lady to call upon a gentleman, whether they were engaged or not. She knew Alexander would not be pleased to see her.

  Unless…

  Daisy’s mind returned to the way his hand had caressed her back as she played the pianoforte the previous day. At first, she had thought she was imagining it. The stiff-backed, stern young duke would never permit himself such a liberty.

  Not unless he wanted to touch Daisy more than he wanted to remember the rules of their ersatz engagement.

  Perhaps he might not be too dissatisfied to find himself alone with her, after all.

  She folded her arms and took a deep breath, wishing she could turn her voice to ice at will the way Alexander could. “His Gr
ace will be most displeased when I tell him I was turned away at the door.”

  “Will I, now?”

  Daisy’s eyes flared wide. Alexander had appeared at the end of the corridor, just outside the door to his study.

  “Your Grace,” the butler began, “I was just explaining to Miss Morton –”

  Alexander’s grey eyes locked onto Daisy’s. She swallowed.

  What was it about him that set her so off balance?

  “Please let me in,” she said. “It is very important.”

  Alexander nodded slowly. “If it is important to you, then I cannot argue. Wilton, let the lady in.”

  If the butler had any further objections, he swallowed them with admirable professionalism. “Welcome, Miss Morton. May I take your coat?”

  “Thank you, but I’m not staying.” Daisy marched past him and flung open the door to the drawing room. She glanced over her shoulder at Alexander, who was watching her with the faintest trace of amusement. “I don’t require any assistance, thank you. I left something behind yesterday, and I have come to retrieve it. I’ll be gone before you know it.”

  He leaned across her to hold the door open. There was a deeply masculine scent about him, something like freshly cut wood and salt sea air, that did nothing to help her already pounding heart.

  “Let me help you search for it.”

  Daisy did not enter the room. “I would rather you didn’t.”

  Alexander made a swift gesture to Mr Wilton, who quickly found himself a pressing task elsewhere.

  “Daisy,” said Alexander, his voice stern but his eyes soft, “tell me what you have lost.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered, lowering her eyes to the floor.

  Alex put a finger underneath her chin and slowly lifted it until she had no choice but to look at him. “Are you in trouble?” he asked. The way he said it, so calmly and kindly, made her heart ache. It seemed he was ready to face the direst situation with equanimity, if it meant helping her out of a scrape.