Dare to Love a Duke

by Eva Leigh

  Clearly, he’d been wrong.

  “We shall talk of this anon.” The duke gave his back a hearty pat. “Get some rest, Your Grace.”

  “I shall try.” But despite the weariness that pulled at his body and dragged down his mind, he knew that he’d find no respite in his bed tonight. Not when he felt himself stretched tightly like a man on the rack.

  Sooner or later, he was going to break.

  Two days passed with no communication from Tom. Lucia didn’t expect him to write her, especially after the uncertain way in which they’d parted. Yet as she’d gone about the ordinary business of her life, she often found herself standing in readiness, her head tilted to one side as if to catch a sound of his approach.

  In the interim, she’d finally begun her search for a location for the girls’ home. Just to take that step filled her with excitement and hope. She’d visited two properties so far, but either they didn’t meet her requirements or the terms were too dear.

  Her enthusiasm for the project hadn’t dimmed. If anything, her desire to finally have a site for the home blazed higher.

  Today, she’d left off her search. It was Wednesday, and in less than eight hours, the Orchid Club would be open for business. She had no time for woolgathering or speculation or thoughts of tomorrow.

  She, Elspeth, and Kitty—cradling Liam—stood in the kitchen and surveyed the baskets of ingredients Jenny would later transform into the guests’ refreshments.

  “Eggs?” Lucia consulted her list.

  “Six dozen,” Elspeth said with a quick look at the basket. Amongst her many valuable skills, she could count speedily and accurately from merely looking at a quantity of an item. Truly, her father had been a fool to deny her a position within the family accounting business.

  “East India Sugar?”

  “Two fourteen-pound loaves,” Kitty said. She snatched Liam’s hand away as he made a grab for one of the cones of sugar.

  “Butter—”

  A knock sounded at the service entrance.

  “Expecting anyone?” Elspeth asked.

  “All the deliveries were made this morning,” Lucia said. “Must be a peddler or tinker.” She checked the pocket of her apron and found a ha’penny. “I’ll give them a coin and we’ll resume our inventory.”

  Quickly, she headed to the back door before pulling it open.

  “We don’t need—” Her words abruptly halted as she beheld Tom standing on the back step, carrying a valise. Blankly, she said, “I thought you were a tinker or a rat-catcher.”

  A corner of his mouth hitched up. “Not especially adept at catching vermin. Though some of the hangers-on at White’s might qualify.” He looked at her warily. “The damned thing about trying to think is that there’s always too much noise to put any thoughts together. So much clamoring for my attention—it was enough to make me consider Bedlam as a quiet alternative.”

  Her mind struggled to catch up to seeing him on her doorstep, hours before the club was set to open. “There’s always Astley’s Amphitheatre.”

  He smiled wryly. “I told my family and friends I was off for a few days of travel. Got in my carriage and had the driver pick a destination. But I didn’t get far before I realized that the place I most wanted to be was here.” He drew in a long breath. A note of uncertainty was in his voice as he said, “I’d like to stay here until Saturday, and put my thoughts in order.”

  “Here,” she said slowly.

  “If it’s not an imposition.” When she was silent, he said, “I’ve no designs on returning to your bed. If there isn’t a spare room for me, I can sleep on the floor. With a few cushions, of course. I’m a duke, not a dog.”

  She looked at him for several moments, excitement and trepidation at war beneath the surface of her skin. Having him close would prove a temptation, even if they didn’t share a bed. The wise thing would be to refuse him.

  Wise, perhaps, yet she heard herself say, “I’d have to check with Elspeth and Kitty. This is their home, too.”

  “Of course.”

  She left him standing on the back step as she hurried toward the kitchen. What he asked of her . . . she wasn’t certain if it was a good idea, or a disastrous one.

  I want him near me, her yearning soul murmured. Just a few days. What could it hurt?

  Once in the kitchen, she quickly explained his request to her friends. “He needs a place to make sense of his thoughts. Only that.”

  “Surely there are fine hotels and inns where he can be alone,” Elspeth said with a puzzled frown.

  “It’s not his own company he craves.” Kitty sent Elspeth a knowing look.

  “He’s my employer,” Lucia pointed out. With a good deal more assurance than she felt, she said, “There will be no encore of our night together.”

  Once again, Kitty and Elspeth shared a speaking glance.

  “Stop doing that!” Lucia exclaimed.

  “It’s your well-being that concerns us,” Elspeth said tenderly. She moved to Lucia and stroked her hand down her face. “The most pressing question is whether or not you are comfortable having him here.”

  Lucia’s heart swelled with the pain/pleasure of her friends’ concern. They knew her so well, and wanted what was best for her. Not many in this world could claim the support of two strong women.

  “I can protect myself,” she said, again hoping that the confidence in her words could serve to convince herself. “Moreover, it can’t hurt to have the ear of a duke for three days. Powerful allies are always a worthwhile investment.”

  If she framed his stay as something that could work to her benefit, so much the better.

  “Then our doors are open to him,” Kitty said after a moment, and Elspeth nodded in agreement.

  Excitement pulsed through Lucia’s veins at this announcement. But, she reminded herself, she had to be wise and practical and approach his sojourn as a calculated decision rather than giving in to softer needs.

  She found Tom leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest. He straightened at her approach.

  “It appears that the Orchid Club now accepts boarders,” she said.

  The flash of his smile struck her right in the center of her chest. “Grand.” He picked up his valise and followed her to the kitchen.

  Elspeth and Kitty broke apart, their whispers stopping abruptly at Lucia and Tom’s entrance. Oddly, a measure of nervousness skittered through Lucia to have Tom finally meet her friends.

  “I’m Elspeth, Your Grace,” Elspeth murmured as she dropped into a curtsy.

  “And I’m Kitty, Your Grace.” Kitty also curtsied.

  “None of that,” he said warmly. “For the next three days, I’m merely Tom O’Connell, one of the staff.”

  Lucia frowned at him. “You cannot mean to work during your time here.” A duke working? It was beyond fantastic.

  “I can and I shall,” he said, decisive. “I’ll not be a sponger. While I’m under your roof, I’m yours to command.”

  Heat washed through her. Oh, if that didn’t give her ideas . . . She willed her blood to calm as she said in an admirably businesslike tone, “If that’s so, your timing can’t be faulted. Tonight, we’re hosting a night of performances of scenes from the Lady of Dubious Quality’s books.”

  His expression brightened as he grinned. “I know them well. Very educational. Got a much-read copy of The Highwayman’s Seduction beneath my bed.”

  “You and half of London,” she said drily. “We’ve spread the rumor that the author herself might actually appear. She’ll be masked, of course. But the excitement that she might be in attendance is sure to bring in more guests, which means there’ll be more work for the staff.” She arched a brow. “Are you prepared for a long night of exhausting labor? If not, now’s your opportunity to withdraw your offer with no harm done.”

  He suddenly looked very imperious, and exceptionally ducal as he raised himself up to his full height. “Don’t insult me.”

  Was it terribly wron
g that a flush of arousal coursed through her to see him at his most aristocratic? “Scusatemi.”

  “Your servant.” He bowed.

  It was such a gallant movement she couldn’t stop the flutter of awareness in her stomach. “Let’s find you a room,” she said, trying to make her voice sound as detached and professional as possible. As if that’s likely at all. I’m an idiota where he’s concerned.

  Gathering her composure, she strode from the kitchen, and heard him follow.

  They wound their way up the servants’ stairs.

  “The bedchambers are occupied,” she said over her shoulder. “Kitty and Elspeth used to have separate rooms. As of yesterday, they share one now, but Elspeth’s chamber is still full of her things, so I’m afraid there’s no choice but to put you in one of the empty servants’ chambers on the top floor.”

  “If it has a mattress and is reasonably free of vermin, it will suit my purposes.”

  “If you had been a rat-catcher, I could state with assurance that this house hasn’t any vermin, but you’re only a duke, so . . .” She shrugged.

  Behind her, he gave a soft laugh that stroked hotly along the nape of her neck as surely as if he’d touched her. “Fair enough.”

  At the very top of the stairs, she opened a narrow door and stepped into a cramped hallway. “Sometimes our staff sleeps here if they’re too tired after work to go home. We have two girls come in during the day to help clean and cook, but they go home after supper, so you’ll likely be alone up here.”

  “Excellent,” he declared brightly. “I can indulge in my midnight vocal calisthenics without fear of disturbing anyone.”

  She pressed her lips together but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “This will be your chamber.”

  She waved to an open door, and stood back as he drifted inside.

  Inside, the furniture arrangement was simple and serviceable, with a narrow bed, a washstand, and a battered clothespress. The pitch of the roof made him bend slightly to accommodate his height. Surely the valise he set down at the foot of the bed cost more than all of the furnishings together, but he merely looked around with an approving nod.

  “Certain you wouldn’t be more comfortable at an inn?” she asked.

  He opened his luggage and removed several neatly folded shirts. “There’s more tranquility in this small room than in any of the finest hotel suites.” He set the shirts inside the clothespress, then turned to face her. “I’ll be plain. When I’m near you I feel a sense of . . . peace.”

  Her stomach clenched, but she tried to ignore it. “You didn’t seem peaceful when we went to bed together.”

  Oh, Dio, why did she say that? Professional distance was what they needed.

  “Well, no.” A corner of his mouth curved upward. “I’d had a year of wanting you, and when you gave me the gift of your desire, I wasn’t about to squander it.”

  The heat in his gaze proved that, if given that gift once more, he’d take full advantage.

  The room became smaller, the air charged. Heat traced along her flesh. She had a vision of him laying her down on the slim bed and kissing his way down her body.

  Yet he held himself still, making no move toward her, for which she was grateful.

  She forced herself to step back, until she stood in the corridor. “Our work lasts until sunrise,” she said with an attempt at composure, “so I advise you to get some rest. Be downstairs for the staff meal by five o’clock.”

  “Sounds as though you intend to run me ragged.”

  “Are you game for the challenge?” She planted her hands on her hips.

  His gaze held hers and she felt like a girl again, experiencing the heady rush of attraction. “Whatever you throw at me, I’ll be ready for. When I set my mind to something, I don’t stop until I see it through.”

  “I remember your . . . stamina.” Madonna, why did flirtation come so easily when she was with him?

  Before she could say anything even more provocative, she turned and sped away. It was her custom to take a small nap before opening for the night, and she’d trained herself to fall asleep within moments.

  Yet having him under her roof, knowing he was so close, any attempt at sleep would be fruitless.

  Chapter 13

  Lying on his bed, hands folded behind his head, Tom stared at the low ceiling pitched just a few feet from his face. He’d tried to open the small window, but had been unsuccessful in unjamming it, and so the air in the chamber was heavy and musty.

  Certainly, he’d stayed at a few inns whose accommodations had been less than luxurious—that room on the road to Harrowgate, with the leaky roof and permeable walls that permitted every stray breeze to pass through the chamber—but sleeping in a room designated for servants was a first.

  Yet he needed this. The room, the time to sort through the maelstrom of his thoughts. The nearness to Lucia. Even to think of her calmed the storm within him. She was fire, yes, and his desire for her hadn’t cooled. She also possessed strength and certainty. All things seemed possible whenever she was close.

  He sat up, carefully angling his body so he didn’t slam his head into the ceiling, and checked his pocket watch.

  Nearly five. Time to go to work.

  He shook his head at himself as he stood. Dukes didn’t work at establishments that catered to London’s sexual needs. And yet, here he was, adjusting the folds of his neckcloth and tugging on his waistcoat like a footman preparing for his first day on the job. Nervousness danced along his limbs—foolishness to feel it, and yet he wanted more than anything to do a good job, to please her. After one last adjustment of his garments and smoothing his hair, he headed downstairs.

  His heart kicked when he found Lucia in the ballroom. How was it that the sight of her never failed to hit him with a rush of exhilaration?

  With her back to him, she spoke to a group of masked women and men standing atop the stage. Tonight, she wore a striking gown of sapphire with short, full sleeves, appearing regal as any crown princess.

  Christ God, but he could stare at her for hours.

  She did not appear to notice that he had entered the chamber. He had the rare pleasure of watching her without her awareness.

  “The first performance will begin at eleven,” she said in an efficient voice as she consulted a folio in her arms. “There are no clocks, so you’re responsible for getting yourself to your places on time. I trust you’ve had adequate time to rehearse.”

  “Yes, madam,” everyone chorused.

  “And everyone knows the order of scenes, correct?”

  The performers nodded.

  “One final note,” she said, her tone warmer, “and then I’ll leave you to complete final preparations and rest. Two of our strongest men will be in this chamber during the enactments. Should the unlikely happen and any of our guests attempt to join you onstage or assault you, Will and Arthur will remove them immediately. Your safety is guaranteed.”

  “Thank you, madam,” a brunette said sincerely.

  Lucia nodded before turning away, and her gaze fell on Tom standing behind her. Their eyes met—and awareness tightened through his muscles.

  She approached him with a wry smile, but he felt the thrum of gratification as her appreciative gaze moved along his body. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

  “As certain as the sun.”

  “Then let us put you to work.”

  She led Tom into the corridor, and he tried to subdue his response to her nearness. “You may be this operation’s owner,” she said as they stood in the hallway, “yet beneath this roof, I’m in command. Everything that happens within these walls is my responsibility. I require everyone employed here to treat their duties with the same gravity.”

  He bowed. “Rely on me, madam.”

  She consulted a timepiece discretely tucked among the folds of her skirts. “As I said, at this hour, the staff usually takes a meal downstairs. There won’t be much time to eat when the doors open, so my advice is to have y
our supper now.”

  “I hope you’ll join them.” And me.

  “It’s one of the best parts of my day,” she said with a growing smile.

  He gave a silent prayer of thanks to have her near him for a little while longer.

  Together, they went downstairs and entered the servants’ hall. It was a long room outfitted with an equally long table, with benches on all sides. Several loaves of thick-crusted bread were arranged on wooden boards. Most of the staff already sat, plates, cups, and cutlery arrayed before them. Chatter quieted as he and Lucia stepped into the chamber. The male members of the staff jumped to their feet.

  “Who’s this?” the cook asked as she stood holding a substantial pot.

  “I’m the new hire,” Tom said. “O’Connell. Tom O’Connell.”

  Everyone nodded and called out greetings. Thank God Tom had procured some clothes that didn’t shout Bond Street.

  “What’s in the pot?” Tom asked.

  “Mutton stew. With potatoes and parsnips.”

  He exhaled with relief that she hadn’t added, Your Grace, and rubbed his hands together. “The smell is heavenly, and I fear I’ll humiliate myself by devouring it with unseemly haste.”

  A blush stained Jenny’s already pink cheeks. “We’ve quince tarts to follow.”

  Tom groaned. “Madam, you are diabolical. Quince tarts are my weakness.”

  “No one can best Jenny’s quince tarts,” Lucia said confidently. “She even makes me pastiera for Easter.”

  “Not as good as they do in Naples, I’d wager,” Jenny said with a dismissive wave.

  Lucia smiled. “Maybe even better.” She glanced around the room. “But we’ll sing your praises after we eat.”

  She sank down onto the bench. The male staff took their seats, and Tom lowered himself beside her. There wasn’t ample space at the table, making his shoulder bump hers, and the length of his thigh fit snugly along her leg.

  You’re here to work and think. But his pulse wouldn’t listen, and it rushed through him to have her so close.

  Talk started back up again as the men and women who worked at the Orchid Club gossiped, teased, and told stories. Elspeth and Kitty sat beside each other, taking turns holding Liam as the cook and her assistants circulated around the table, ladling up stew and filling mugs with small beer.