The Duke's Fallen Angel (Devilish Dukes, #1)

by Amy Jarecki

  The door cracked open. “May I have a word?” asked the man who consumed her thoughts.

  “Ack!” Crossing her arms over her chest, Bria sank lower in the tub. “I’m bathing.”

  “I promise to keep my eyes averted.”

  “What if one of the sailors or Johnny—?”

  Drake stepped inside. Closing the door behind him, he looked at her with the intensity of a man starved. “Forgive me. I could stay away no longer.”

  A flutter of yearning spread low in her belly. Oh, how she loved this man. And he grew more handsome every time she saw him. “Is Johnny settled?”

  “He’s fit right in. The lad is exploring with Captain Schiffer’s cabin boy. Buggie is twelve and Johnny is following him like an enamored puppy.”

  “After his ordeal on the Lloyds, the lad deserves to have some fun. He’s such a sweet child. I cannot bear to think of how difficult things have been for him.”

  Drake sauntered forward, making her ache for him all the more. “Not unlike your beginnings, I imagine.”

  “Far worse. You forget I lived in relative comfort until the age of fourteen.” A slow grin spread across Bria’s lips as her gaze slowly meandered up his body. “Your beard combined with your scar makes you look dangerous.”

  The corner of his mouth ticked up. “You reckon? I think I look like a pirate.”

  “I like it.”

  He stroked his fingers along his jawline. “It is not exactly the fashion, but I swore I wouldn’t shave until I found you. It served as an ever-present reminder of my purpose.”

  “You did?” Her heart twisted. It ached, melted, and pined. Oh, how she’d missed the intensity of his stare—blue eyes that, had she not been sitting, would have made her grow weak at the knees. “For me?”

  “Only and always for you, my darling.”

  He sat beside the tub. “I wish I could join you.”

  “Scandalous.”

  Leaning forward, he pretended to peek around her crossed arms. “A scandal worth exploiting.” He grinned as he reached down and grasped the sponge. “Allow me to wash your hair, my lady.”

  Relenting, she fished for the soap and handed it to him. “You are shameless.”

  “When it comes to you I have no shame. Now lean forward.”

  Bria covered her face with her palms while Drake sopped up water with the sponge and drizzled it over her head. “Have I ever told you how much I adore your hair?”

  “Just my hair?”

  Gentle but strong fingers began massaging the soap into her scalp. “It is only the icing on the cake.”

  “Sweet cake?”

  “The sweetest.”

  He helped her rinse, then swirled the sponge around her back. “Britannia, you must know how much I love you.”

  “I do. I love you as well but—”

  “I want to marry you.”

  Curving her back, she drew her hand over her mouth. If only it could be so. If only rules and society were different. “But you cannot.”

  “What say you? I can marry whomever I please.”

  “Aren’t dukes supposed to marry highborn women from reputable families?”

  “Theoretically, yes. But Moses brought no tablets down from Mount Sinai commanding all dukes to marry daughters of peers and gentlemen. Besides, you are the daughter of a British monarch and a baroness.”

  “An illegitimate daughter, mind you.”

  “So, who gives a fig?”

  “The whole of London society.”

  “Oh, just them.”

  “Aren’t you worried? Won’t you be ostracized?”

  “The British aristocracy places far too much importance on how things look.” Drake swirled warm fingers across her back. “Will people gossip? Yes. Will the papers have their heyday? Yes.”

  Bria closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “But what about Chadwick Theater? Won’t ticket sales plunge?”

  “Possibly.” He kissed her temple. “But people will not be able to stay away from talent. And I have every intention of continuing the success of our first Season.”

  “With ballet?”

  “And opera.” Drake grinned irresistibly, while his tongue tapped the corner of his mouth, his eyes growing dark and seductive. “But I don’t want to talk about the theater right now. I want you to agree to be my wife.” Grinning irresistibly, his kisses nibbled from her ear to her neck and finally around to her mouth.

  As their lips met, her heart broke. Drake had so many lovely dreams, but he was forgetting one critical factor. “I want to marry you more than anything, but...”

  “But?”

  “How easily you forget I was kidnapped, falsely charged and shipped to Australia by my own grandfather. What might he try next? Not only am I not safe, I fear for your life as well.”

  “Believe me, your grandfather will never again come near you. I don’t care if I have to make an appeal to the crown, he has behaved despicably and without cause.”

  “All to protect the honor of his family name.”

  “He is a deceitful prig. And his henchman is worse. I intend to have Gibbs brought up on charges.”

  “Do you think he will be convicted?”

  “There is enough evidence against him.” Cupping his hands on her cheeks, Drake kissed her again, slowly, seductively. “Agree to marry me right here and now. I’ll die if you go back to France”

  Right there. Soaking wet without a stitch of clothing on her body, he rendered her powerless to resist. “One more thing,” she whispered, all thoughts of France vanishing.

  “Anything.”

  “You won’t like it.”

  “How do you know unless you ask?”

  “Very well. I want to take Johnny as my ward. I have a little money now. I can see to his education and ensure he grows up to be a fine man—not a thief.”

  His smile grew warm and filled with love. “You have really grown attached to the lad, have you not?”

  “I feel it is my duty to protect him.”

  Drake let out a long breath. “Then I must have a condition of my own.”

  “Yes?”

  “That Johnny must become a ward of us both. Once a woman marries, by English law, her ward becomes her husband’s ward.”

  Bria threw her arms around his neck. “Oh Drake, I love you more with each passing day.”

  “Then we have only one more thing to settle.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Do you want to have a scandalous elopement and wed aboard the Hastings, or shall we wait and marry in the chapel at the castle?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  DRAKE WASTED NO TIME making the wedding arrangements with Captain Schiffer. Thank heavens. If Bria had to spend one more night without being in his arms, she’d burst.

  She stood in front of the looking glass and pressed her hands to her stomach. There she stood, about to marry a duke with only her ratty old costume to wear, not to mention the skirts were scandalously short. One of the sailors had come up with a handful of hairpins, so at least her hair was tidy. She had no rouge or face powder, nothing to improve her appearance.

  And yet, when she’d argued all these points, Drake repeated three words: “I don’t care”.

  “Bria!” Johnny burst through the door and charged inside with Buggie, the cabin boy on his heels. “Look what we have for your wedding.”

  No matter how excited and adorable the child appeared, as his guardian, she mustn’t abide his audacity—not to mention hauling a friend into a future duchess’ cabin without so much as a knock. “I beg your pardon, but before you show me one single thing, I insist you go out to the corridor and knock. A young man never bursts into a lady’s or anyone’s chamber without first requesting permission.”

  “But—”

  Bria thrust her finger toward the door. “Do it, I say.”

  Johnny rolled his eyes at the older boy. “Bleeding hell.”

  “And without the colorful language,” she added before
they skulked away, shutting the door behind them.

  An impatient rap sounded. “May we please come in, milady?” asked Johnny, followed by a considerable amount of giggling.

  “May we come in, your worship?” Buggie barely contained his laughter while his voice resounded through the timbers. The troublemaker.

  “Your magnificence,” the younger miscreant chortled.

  “Oh, please.” But Bria had asked for their sauciness. She cleared her throat. “Enter.”

  Again, the door burst open. “Buggie told me one of the sailors makes flowers out of paper.” Johnny thrust his arms forward with an enormous grin. He held at least a dozen paper roses that looked as if they’d been made from castoff letters. “Now you’ll have a posy to hold for your wedding.”

  Bria took one and held it up. It really was a work of art and if not for the ink, the flower would have looked like a real rose. “These are splendid.”

  “I knew you’d like them.”

  “I do. Very much.”

  The boy grinned as if it were Christmas morn. Then he nudged Buggie. “Go on. ’Tis your turn.”

  The older lad shoved a bundle of lacy cloth into Johnny’s hands. “You do it. I’m not accustomed to speaking to girls.”

  “All right then.” Giving Bria a bow, the lad held up the lace. “This is the captain’s tablecloth. He said you could use it for a veil.”

  “It’s good as new,” added Buggie. “And no one will be the wiser.”

  “Why, thank you.” Bria imagined gravy stains accompanied by a spot of red wine or two, but she shook out the cloth, grateful to have something to cover her costume. “You’re right, it looks new.”

  “You’ll have to give it back after the ceremony,” said Buggie. “The captain needs it on account he is hosting the wedding feast in his cabin.”

  “I don’t mind. Thank you for being so very thoughtful.” Swinging the cloth around her head and shoulders, Bria performed a pirouette. “A bride always wears something borrowed when she’s married. This is perfect, and I doubt anyone will know it is really a tablecloth.”

  Johnny beamed. “I think it’s beautiful.”

  HOW DID SHE MANAGE it?

  Drake expected to see the love of his life appear on deck dressed like the Sylph. But she’d found some ivory lace and had it wrapped around her head and shoulders like a shawl. Smiling, her face pure and radiant, no other woman had ever looked as beautiful.

  In her hands she carried roses. Paper roses, but they looked so real, he could practically smell them. Johnny strutted beside her protectively as if he might kick anyone in the shin if they tried to touch the bride. “I’m giving her away.”

  Drake patted the boy’s sandy curls, which were almost clean now he’d had a bath. “You’re doing a fine job. Thank you.” But he didn’t linger long on the lad. Today was Britannia’s day and he wanted to shower her with adoration. “You look stunning.”

  She smiled. “Delicious, perhaps?”

  “Delicious, stupendous, wonderous, divine...”

  “I suggested delicious because I’m festooned with a tablecloth.”

  He stifled a laugh. “No woman hath ever put mere drapery to so good a use.”

  “I’m glad you approve. Though I must say the groom is far better clad than the bride.”

  “I have nothing but my theater attire from that fateful night and a spare shirt I borrowed in Portsmouth. But I would marry you no matter what you chose to wear.”

  Her gaze slid to his chin. “You shaved.”

  “Only for you, my love.”

  “Shall we begin?” asked the captain, holding the Common Book of Prayers.

  Drake gave the man a nod. “Please.”

  “Dearly beloved...”

  He barely heard another word. As Captain Schiffer droned on about the sanctity of holy matrimony, Drake stared into the whisky eyes he’d grown to love, the pert lips he was dying to kiss, the radiant smile of a woman who would be his for the rest of their lives.

  “Drake Alexander Thomas Chadwick, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

  When Bria’s expression became inquisitive, Drake realized a response was necessary. “I will,” he croaked.

  “Britannia LeClair, wilt though have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other keep thee only unto him, so long as you both shall live?

  “I will,” she said as if no one on earth possessed the power to change her mind.

  The captain looked across the crowd of sailors. “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

  “That’s me, Johnny. I don’t have no surname. But I give her in holy man-a-mony all the same.”

  Drake chuckled and gave the boy a wink.

  “Sorry,” Britannia whispered.

  “Not at all. He’s perfect.”

  “You’re perfect.”

  “May I continue?” asked the captain with a sober frown.

  Johnny gave the bride a very inappropriate nudge. “There’s more?”

  “Yes, and now you must go stand by Buggie.”

  Drake pulled upon all his ducal training and swallowed a laugh. There he stood, seventh in line to the throne, eloping with the love of his life who was wearing a tablecloth, who happened to be of questionable birth, given away by a foundling who had been convicted of thievery and sentenced to fourteen years transport.

  And I couldn’t be happier.

  The rest of the ceremony continued without further incident and, when it came time to place a ring on Bria’s finger, Drake removed the unicorn signet. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow...”

  Britannia gasped as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Your seal?”

  He bent down and whispered into her ear. “Until I find a proper jeweler.”

  “Without ado, I pronounce you man and wife!” The captain closed his prayer book. “Open a barrel of rum for the crew. Two drams per man, mind you. I’ll tolerate no drunkenness aboard His Majesty’s ship.”

  As the Hasting’s deck erupted into mayhem, Drake drew Britannia into his arms. “You have made me the happiest man in Christendom.”

  “And me the happiest woman.”

  The noise from the celebration ebbed as he lowered his chin and kissed her. “There will be far more kissing in our cabin this eve.”

  “Must we wait?”

  “The captain has a feast planned with the officers, otherwise, I’d make our excuses.”

  “Oh, yes.” She removed her veil. “He needs this back for the table.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  A FEW HOURS LATER, Drake closed the cabin door and faced her. Bria’s breath quivered with anticipation as he stepped forward and grasped her hands. “You are a duchess now.”

  “I am?”

  His hands slid around her, enveloped her. “You are my duchess and I will have no other.”

  “I cannot believe it.”

  “I cannot believe I found you without sailing all the way to Australia.”

  “I’m so glad you did. Captain Sands tried to...”

  “Did he force you?”

  “No. He gave me an ultimatum—used Johnny against me, but you came before I had to make a decision.”

  “Thank God.”

  She smoothed her hands up the front of his chest before her fingers slipped around him. “I never want to be separated from you again.”

  Melting into his arms, she closed her eyes and savored him. And when he captured her mouth, she went boneless, scarcely able to support her weight.

  With one hand pressed into the small of her back, Drake suppor
ted her while he slipped the gossamer gown from her shoulders and let it to drop to the floor. “Are you warm enough?”

  Hardly aware of her surroundings, she smiled at him. “Your warmth is plenty for the both of us.”

  He sucked in a sharp inhale and unlaced her stays. “I want to see you bare.”

  Bria shuddered. It seemed like an eternity since she’d last lain with this man who’d stolen her heart. So many times when she’d lain in the dark cell below decks, she’d ached to be with him, ached to join with him as God intended a man and a woman to share passion. She wanted Drake Chadwick to hold her in his arms forever and make love to her like she was the only woman in the world.

  The insides of her thighs quivered while the scant pieces of her clothing dropped to the floor. When all that remained were her threadbare stockings and garters, he grinned, slowly lowering himself to his knees. “This is my favorite part.”

  She threaded her fingers through his thick, black hair. “And why is that, Your Grace?”

  He brushed his thumb through the triangle of curls at her apex. “Because the most intoxicating scent in all the world is hidden inside this treasure.” He tugged one garter bow. “And I can sample the fragrance whilst I unmask the most perfect, most shapely legs I’ve ever seen in all my days.”

  Bria reached for him but he caught her fingers and kissed them. “One more garter, my love.”

  When she was completely naked, he took her hands, rose, and stepped back. How erotic it felt to be completely bare while he was still clothed. Drake’s gaze raked along her body. She shivered when his lips parted, his eyes grew dark and the big duke gasped.

  With a sultry chuckle, she stepped into him and smoothed her hands down his lapels. “You’ve made love to me with your eyes, now I want to feel the flesh of my husband take me to the stars.”

  A devilish chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest. “Ask and ye shall receive.”

  In less than half a minute, shoes, doublet, waistcoat, neckcloth, shirt, breeches, hose and drawers all dropped into a heap.

  Bria’s hips swayed as she stepped into him, running her fingers through the downy soft hair on his chest. Good glory, he defined male perfection. “And men like you think they need a valet.”