My Dashing Duke

by Andresen, Tammy

  Noelle nodded, but she would not cry. Why would she cry? It wasn’t as though she’d loved him! When the door closed behind them, leaving her small chamber silent, Noelle crossed the room and slumped into her favorite chair.

  Outside, sun glistened off the snow in the square—where she’d first spotted him. She ought to have left him to freeze! That lying excuse of a gentleman! She had trusted him from the very beginning. She’d told him how she felt about her father and her sisters. She’d not once lied to him as far as her intentions were concerned.

  And yet he’d not trusted her enough to afford her the courtesy of telling her who he really was.

  A Duke!

  A dishonest, two-faced, double-dealing duke! She dropped her forehead against the cold window, causing the glass to shudder. It would be all his fault if it were to break.

  Had he been laughing at her all along? Perhaps he’d not intended to marry her at all! It was possible that he’d only played with her for a spot of fun while he and his…other ducal dunderheads were stranded in this unsophisticated little village.

  The thought was a sobering one.

  Less than an hour ago, she’d allowed him to pull her into the larder and touch her—taste her—in the most intimate fashion. She closed her eyes, unable to stop the tear that escaped and trailed down her cheek. She’d not only allowed it, she’d welcomed it. She’d spent the most glorious moments of her life with him.

  And she hadn’t even known who he really was. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. She and her sisters, all of them, even their aunt, ought to have looked his title up in Debrets. Blitzencreek! How hadn’t she recognized it immediately for the invention that it was?

  She hadn’t questioned it because she’d trusted him and because even his touch had seemed sincere, honest.

  Vulnerable.

  She opened her eyes and focused them on the statue in the lawn. She would never be so gullible again, that was for certain. She dropped her hand to her leg, giving her own thigh a good smack. She would never marry. Another hit to her leg. She’d find a suitable husband for her sisters and travel between their two homes to visit her nieces and nephews.

  A broken sob escaped.

  “She never loved my father. In fact, I’m fairly certain she hated him.” Why hadn’t he told her about his mother before? He’d had every opportunity.

  She only loves herself. What a horrible person he’d had for a mother. Another sob escaped her lips. But then she paused. Why hadn’t he told her about his relationship with the duchess? Did he not think that she would be sympathetic?

  Had his mother withheld her love from her son, as well? Something sharp stabbed at Noelle. He’d said he’d never felt love. Did that mean he felt it now? Surely, he hadn’t fallen in love with her. It was an impossible notion. She gasped, her heart seizing in her chest, its fluttering beat sounding in her ears. Of course, he had not!

  Furthermore, it had not been a part of their plan. They’d decided from the beginning that a marriage would be better without the added complications of sentiment. Hadn’t they? Noelle rubbed a fist against her chest, which was suddenly aching something fierce. She did not love him. She could not love him. She summoned the image of her father as she’d last seen him, thin, haggard, hungover, and wretched. He’d not even been able to rouse himself enough to bring them here himself.

  He’d sent his daughters away. He’d refused to even listen to their protests, choosing instead to be a stubborn fool.

  He’d dispassionately informed them of his decision and sent them all packing. She’d felt as wretched as he’d looked.

  But another memory intruded. From Christmases past, when her father had dangled mistletoe over mother’s head so that he could steal a kiss. She and her sisters had caught him doing that so many times that it had ceased to be scandalous even.

  Mama would smile and laugh and pretend to be angry…but she’d get a certain look in her eyes. Noelle remembered when her father had been ill and how Mother had nursed him back to health.

  “You girls and your papa are the joy of my life,” her mother had told her one night. “My reason for living.”

  Love. It had the power to bring joy, but also the power to bring pain.

  A motion in front of the inn caught her attention and she held her breath. Someone had brought the sleigh around! Their sleigh.

  Was he coming to insist that she go on another ride with him so that he could explain, so that he could convince her to accept his apology?

  Should she hear him out? Would she forgive him?

  Her heart lifted and held suspended in the air for all of three seconds until two servants emerged from the inn carrying a trunk and two valises. Not wanting to be caught watching, she hid all but her eyes behind one of the drapes. She nearly choked on a gasp of disbelief when Dash emerged on their heels.

  Head down, he marched determinedly toward the conveyance and after having a few words with the man who’d brought it around, climbed onto the seat himself and took hold of the reins. His friend climbed up beside him.

  Surely, he wasn’t leaving? But that seemed to be exactly what was happening. Noelle’s heart panicked and then practically begged her to run outside and stop them. He hadn’t even said goodbye.

  Oh, but she had! She’d ordered him to go away and find the perfect bride.

  None of what they’d shared had been real. He’d only been playing with her. Seeing how quickly he was willing to abandon her merely confirmed the truth of it all—confirmed that spending time with him had been a huge mistake.

  He lifted his head to stare up at her window and her breath caught. Those midnight blue eyes seemed to burn up at her, begging her to stop him.

  But of course, he couldn’t know she was watching him.

  A voice chanted inside of her head, don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go. She forced herself not to step forward and wave.

  Those kissable lips of his parted, and her heart withered to think she’d never know his embrace again.

  She waited. And waited, and waited for what felt like a lifetime, and then, with a snap of his head and the flick of his wrists, he turned and the horses sprang into action.

  Christmas bells rang out behind him as he drove away. This was what Christmas had come to be to her. Death and betrayal.

  He was gone.

  Thank heavens she hadn’t given him her body. Thank heavens she hadn’t given him her heart.

  The moment he turned out of sight, she dropped her head into her hands and allowed her tears to fall.

  Thank heavens she didn’t love him.

  * * *

  Noelle lay back on her bed, her hands clasped on her belly and imagined herself laid out like this in a parlor. He left her. He’d driven away their sleigh without looking back even once.

  When she heard the door open and close and then light, tentative footsteps approach, Noelle didn’t flinch or even allow her eyelashes to flutter

  The footsteps were too light to be Aunt Winifred’s.

  Too hesitant to be Eve’s.

  “I know you are not sleeping.” Holly’s voice broke into Noelle’s wallowing silence.

  “It’s a good thing, wouldn’t you agree? That he left Maybridge Falls?” Still laying in repose, Noelle moved nothing but her lips. It would hurt to move. This way she didn’t have to feel anything.

  “Did he, er, leave alone?” An unusual pleading in her younger sister’s voice had Noelle peeking out from beneath her lashes.

  “One of his friends left with him—the tall one. Good riddance is all I can say. I wish they’d never stopped here.” She closed her eyes again, trying to forget the moment Dash had glanced up at her room. She could not dwell on the fact that he’d given up on her so easily. If she did that then she’d begin weeping again and she’d already allowed herself enough of that.

  Holly had yet to respond so Noelle was forced to come back to life. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she studied her sister, who looked as dejected as she, Noelle, fe
lt. “Why?”

  Holly was staring down at her hands and clutching a piece of cloth in her fist. A gentleman’s cravat? “No reason. I just…” She swallowed hard. “Wondered.”

  A soft knock sounded and Aunt Winifred peaked inside. “I’ve no idea what is going on amongst you girls, but Mr. Rudolph was going to pack up a basket of freshly baked bread and ham to replace that unfortunate bird and Eve refuses to collect it.” Her gaze narrowed on Noelle, who was certain her eyes were puffy and red, and then on Holly, who hadn’t even glanced up. “Betrothals come and go but so does dinnertime. I’m positively famished, so if the two of you would be so kind as to walk over while it’s still light out, we could all eat.”

  Their aunt’s face vanished but then appeared inside just as quickly. “All three of you will eat, and we will discuss what’s happened with Lord Blitzencreeker or Dasherwhatever and the rest of his lot.”

  “Dashlington,” Noelle provided as she sat up.

  “Whomever. The name doesn’t really matter, as far as I’m concerned. It’s what’s inside that counts.” She stared at Noelle meaningfully, raised her brows and then closed the door softly as she disappeared again.

  “I don’t suppose any of it matters now, although it’s rather embarrassing that the innkeeper knew more about my betrothed than I did,” Noelle admitted with a grimace.

  Not capable of disobeying her aunt, Noelle donned her snow boots reluctantly and followed Holly down the stairs where Mr. Clark was waiting with their coats and scarves. “Lord Blitzencreek was a fraud,” Noelle commented to him. “A duke, of all things. He didn’t say anything to you, did he?”

  “He did not,” Mr. Clark dropped Noelle’s scarlet cloak over her shoulders, “And I’m disappointed that he dissembled with you. However,” he clamped his mouth shut.

  Noelle stilled. “However?”

  The butler twisted his lips thoughtfully. “I realize it’s not my place to say this…”

  “Then do not.” Noelle wasn’t feeling very charitable toward the male species in that moment.

  “Please tell us what you were going to say, Mr. Clark?” Holly encouraged him.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I understand the offense to you, Lady Noelle, if he’d reversed the lie. It would have been far worse if he’d convinced you that he was a duke and was, in truth, a mere baron. But he did not. Most English misses would fall over themselves to land such a lofty title. They’d tell him what they believed he wanted to hear and pretend to be what they thought he wanted them to be.”

  Noelle folded her arms in front of her. “Most English misses are welcome to him then.”

  “It’s quite possible,” Mr. Clark continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “That your Duke of Dashlington merely wanted to be loved for himself.”

  “Gah!” Noelle lifted her hands into the air. “It was never meant to be a love match!”

  Mr. Clark merely raised his brows. “Very good then, Miss Noelle.” He opened the door and extended his hand with a flourish for them to exit.

  Noelle hated that he’d given her more reason to doubt herself.

  “Did you love him, perhaps just a little?” Holly had the temerity to ask as she hooked her arm with Noelle’s. “I cannot believe he was not in love with you. He watched you like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him, and he was always touching your shoulder, or your back. Plus, he said that he loved you, and I don’t think he was inclined to lie—except for the whole duke thing, that is.”

  “Yes. There is that.” Noelle picked her way through the snow. She’d be glad when winter was over. She’d be happy if she never saw snow again. “I can’t love him, Holly.” The admission caught in her throat.

  “Because of Papa.”

  “Yes.” But her reasoning was becoming less clear.

  “He made Mama happy, Noelle. Even after she fell ill.” Holly commented.

  Mama had been happy. Even in the end.

  Noelle stopped and stared at her sister. “Do you think that if Papa had been the one who fell ill, that Mama would have sent us away?” But she already knew the answer.

  Holly was shaking her head. “Never. She never gave up on anything. Remember the year the fields nearly flooded?”

  Noelle nodded. Three days of heavy rain had nearly been their father’s downfall. If not for–– “Papa was angry, ranting, ready to give up. But Mama insisted he go out and save what he could.”

  Holly was nodding. “And it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought.”

  “It wasn’t.” Noelle remembered with a sad smile.

  “Of the three of us, you remind me the most of Mama.” Holly announced as they resumed walking toward the inn.

  Something flickered inside of Noelle. She had lost Mama, the same as her sisters, the same as her Papa. She had loved Mama desperately, but after she’d passed, Noelle had not ceased caring for her sisters. She’d set her sights on the future and faced it head on. Loving one’s mother wasn’t the same as loving one’s husband but both emotions were love.

  What would she do if she lost the love of her life? Would she cease to be a mother to her children?

  She would not.

  She stumbled.

  Had she fallen in love with him?

  She cannot have! She hadn’t even known his real name!

  And yet, even though she knew he’d gone, even though she’d watched him drive away in their sleigh, her heart raced as she pushed open the door to the inn.

  She should have heard him out. She should have listened to his explanation.

  Mr. Rudolph glanced up from his desk as Holly closed the door behind them.

  “Good evening, ladies.” He frowned sympathetically at Noelle. “Your aunt sent word about the condition of your bird. Your aunt’s cook must be right popular with the strays in town.” He tugged at a bell pull behind him. “One moment and I’ll have your basket brought out.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Noelle bit her lip. “Lord Blitzen—I mean, Dashlington?” She tested his name on her lips.

  “The Duke of Dashlington.” He confirmed. “I cannot apologize enough for speaking out of turn earlier. I believe I’m the person to blame for His Grace’s departure.”

  She inhaled and then exhaled on a shudder. “Do you know where he’s gone?”

  “I’m afraid not,” his answer dashed her hopes. “But perhaps—”

  “Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” a cultured voice drawled.

  Holly and Noelle both spun around. If she was not mistaken, she vaguely remembered him speaking to Dash earlier that afternoon. She’d been so distraught, however, that she hadn’t taken note.

  “We haven’t met,” she blurted out.

  He leaned against the doorframe, wearing an unbuttoned waistcoat, his shirtsleeves folded past his elbows, and his hair disheveled as though he’d run a hand through it more than once.

  And yet he still managed to appear quite imposing and ridiculously handsome.

  Moving rather like a cat, he stepped forward and reached out to take her hand. “Nicholas St. Hope, the Marquess of Merriweather, at your service.” Extending one foot forward, he bowed deeply and dropped a featherlight kiss on the back of her wrist and did the same with Holly. Upon rising, he glanced toward the door, and his most affable smile faltered for an instant. “Just the two of you this evening?”

  “You mentioned that you might be able to help my sister.” Holly reminded him.

  The marquess glanced around the room and then indicated a table with four chairs near the corner. “I might. But I’d have a word with you first, if you’d be so kind, Lady Noelle?”

  Noelle swallowed hard but nodded. “Why didn’t you leave with him?” she asked after they were all seated.

  Lord Merriweather shrugged. “Unfinished business. Am I mistaken that you were asking our good friend, Mr. Rudolph, if he had knowledge of Dashlington and Tidemore’s destination?”

  “You are not mistaken, Dashlington’s destination, yes. Not the o
ther lords.”

  He brushed a wayward lock of hair away from his face at the same time his gaze flickered to Holly. “Well, yes. As a matter of fact, they’re both en route to London. I believe their intentions are to drink themselves into oblivion at Dashlington’s townhouse in Mayfair. One-seven-four-eight Grosvenor Street, if you were curious to know.”

  Holly exhaled a sad sort of sigh. She was a dear sister, to share in Noelle’s pain so deeply. “Do you think he will return?” she asked. That would make all of this so much easier.

  But His Lordship frowned and shook his head. “Not likely. He’s a damned stubborn fool.”

  Her heart pinched.

  “I might have acted too hastily.” She blurted out. “He should not have lied to me, but…”

  “Do you love him?” Merriweather’s easygoing demeanor vanished. “Because if you’re here because you’ve realized you rather fancy becoming a duchess, I beg you to leave the poor bastard alone. Pardon my language.”

  Noelle’s straightened her spine. “I could care less about being a duchess. In fact, I’d rather not, thank you.” And then the truth struck her. “I just want Dash.”

  Because she did. “I love him.” The admission surprised her but as she said the words, she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that they were true. She loved him and she needed to tell him. But was it too late?

  “Do you think he’ll talk to me? Have I ruined everything?” This gentleman seemed to know Dash quite well. As a friend, surely, he would know?

  He didn’t answer right away, but stared at her, thrumming his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “He was not happy when he left, and as I’ve already mentioned, he’s a stubborn ass.” But then his gaze traveled down her face, to her bosoms and then back up again. “But it’s not as though he’s been immune to you so far.”

  “So, I have a chance?” Hope blossomed in her stomach, rising up to her chest.

  “Dashlington House is easy enough to find, on the corner of Culrose Street, just across from the Park.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some letters. “If you would pass these along to him, when you get there, you’d save me the trouble.” He then reached another envelope across to Holly. “Miss Holly? Tidemore left this for you.”