On a soft, dreamy sigh Eleanor leaned into the kiss.
A storm, she thought with no small amount of delight as Derek nibbled lazily at her bottom lip. It was the least complimentary compliment he’d ever given her. And all the more perfect because of it.
If someone told her she and the duke would be kissing over a picnic supper less than one month after his return to Hawkridge, she would have laughed herself into a fit. Yet here they were, sitting in the middle of the lawn with a basket between them and Sir Galahad and Lancelot chaperoning from a distance.
The last two weeks had been the most magical of her life. Not because she had discovered lovemaking – well, not only because she’d discovered lovemaking – but because she had finally discovered her husband. It may have taken eleven months and twenty-nine days, but at long last she’d found the man behind the mask. And he was everything she ever could have hoped for.
Gone was the cad who had mocked her and demanded she give up her animals. In his place was the man who had given her her very first kiss. The valiant knight who had saved Donald from the housekeeper and rescued Henny from the thunderstorm. The charming rogue who had, against all odds, managed to steal her heart.
All that being said, he was still a scoundrel and they still fought like cats and dogs. But that was part of their appeal. Despite what he’d said in the carriage barn out of anger, Derek did not want her to be anyone other than who she was. He told her as much the morning after they’d made love when the first light of dawn had yet to steal across the sky and she’d been tucked into the hard concave of his body.
‘You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before,’ he’d told her, one hand absently combing through her tangled curls. ‘I used to think that was a bad thing. But now I know it’s your greatest asset. Never change, Eleanor. Even if someone is stupid enough to ask you to.’
To date, it was the second best compliment he’d ever given her.
“We need to stop,” she murmured, pushing lightly against his chest when she felt his fingers unbuttoning the back of her dress.
“Why?” he asked as his lips worked their way down her throat.
“Because…because I think I hear someone coming up the drive.”
“Let them come. I certainly intend to,” he said, mouth curving in a wicked grin against her bare shoulder as he pulled her sleeve down. She batted his hand away.
“Derek, I’m serious.”
“So am I. Fine,” he sighed. Giving her one last kiss, he stood up and shrugged on his waistcoat. “But if this is anyone less than the king himself, I’m coming back here and – bloody hell.”
“What?” Alarmed by the dark shadow that stole across his countenance as he turned to look at the drive and the shiny black coach rolling up it, Eleanor scrambled to her feet and hastily straightened her bodice. “Do you know who that is?” she asked, watching as a tall, thin man alighted from the carriage and, after a surreptitious glance at the manor, proceeded directly inside.
“Yes,” Derek said grimly.
“And?”
“You’re better off not knowing. This will only take a few minutes.”
“I’ll go with you.” She started to follow him, but he stopped so abruptly she nearly ran into him.
“It’s better if you remain here.”
“But I–”
“Eleanor.” His jaw tensed. “Please.”
“Very well,” she said, even though she had absolutely no intention of staying put. “But only if you promise to tell me who that man is when you return.”
He pressed a distracted kiss to her brow. “I promise.”
She waited until he’d gone around the front of the house before she picked up her skirts and dashed around the back. Using the servant’s entrance, she slipped through the kitchens and down the hall.
It was easy to find where her husband had gone. All she had to do was follow the sound of raised voices to the front drawing room. The door had been left slightly ajar and she felt only the slightest twinge of guilt as she peeked inside. If Derek hadn’t wanted her to eavesdrop then he should have at least told her who the man was that had instantly put him in such a bad mood. It wasn’t her fault she had a healthy dose of curiosity.
Her husband stood with his back to her, his rugged frame partially obscuring the thin stranger so all she saw was one sharp blue eye and a flattened lick of black hair. Georgiana, dressed in black and looking supremely bored, sat on the sofa with Mr. Pumpernickel perched on her lap. Over the past few weeks the two had taken a liking to one another and it was rare to see them apart.
“…know you’re not welcome here, Norton,” said Derek tersely. She couldn’t see his face, but his tension was obvious in the rigid line of his shoulders.
“I’m family, aren’t I?” The stranger – Norton – replied with an insolent sneer that immediately put a bad taste in Eleanor’s mouth. If he really was family it must have been a distant relation, for with the exception of their hair color he and Derek looked nothing alike.
“You should have sent a calling card, dear cousin.” This from Georgiana who was looking at Norton as if he were something she’d just had scraped off the bottom of her shoe. “At least then we would have known to hide the silver.”
“Georgie. Pleasant as ever, I see.” Norton’s attention flicked back to Derek. He smiled thinly. “You know very well why I’m here. The timing of the will was quite specific.”
The will? Eleanor’s brow knitted with confusion. What will?
“With one day to go, I decided to see for myself if you’ve met the terms our dearly departed grandfather set forth. I wish it didn’t have to come to this, Derek. Truly I don’t.” Norton’s sigh was annoyingly long. “But the will was quite clear, I’m afraid.”
“I know the bloody terms of the will,” Derek snapped. “Say what you’ve come to say and then get the hell out. My patience is wearing thin.”
“Very well. I hesitate to speak so bluntly in front of a lady.” His gaze swerved back to Georgiana as an insolent smirk twisted his narrow lips. “Which is why I’m glad there isn’t one here.”
A growl that was more beast than man tore bubbled up from Derek’s throat. “Insult my sister again,” he said in a deceptively soft voice, “and it will be the last thing you do.”
“What’s a little teasing between family? Fine, fine,” he said when Derek took a menacing step in his direction. “No need to get violent. No need at all. This is why Grandfather put that last little caveat in the will, you know. Because he knew you weren’t suited to be a duke. You haven’t the temperament for it.”
“You’d have Hawkridge run into the ground before the year was out,” Georgiana said disdainfully. “Everyone knows you’re out of money, Norton. And desperate enough to do anything to get your hands on my brother’s inheritance. I almost feel sorry for you.”
“Save your pity for yourself when I toss you out on your ear,” Norton spat as his face blanched and then turned a deep, dull red. “Enough of these games. The will was clear, and it will hold up in any court. So has the marriage been consummated or not? You’ve only two days left.”
Eleanor concealed her gasp just in time. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she stared at her husband in shocked silence as she began to understand just what Norton was talking about. There was a will, created by the late Duke of Hawkridge, Derek’s grandfather. And within in it he must have made some sort of stipulation that Derek had to marry before his twenty-ninth birthday. She didn’t know exactly what would happen if he didn’t meet the terms of the will…but it wasn’t hard to guess. The title would pass to the next male heir, in this case Norton.
Was that why Derek had returned to Hawkridge? To consummate their marriage and make it legally binding? Had he been plotting to get her into his bed this entire time? Had the last two weeks meant nothing to him?
As she thought of every loving word and every gentle touch they’d exchanged, she felt a hard knot form in the middle of her chest. Lies, she thought
as she reeled away from the door. It had all been nothing but one lie after another. Derek didn’t care for her. He never had. He simply hadn’t wanted to lose the dukedom. And as soon as he told his cousin the terms of the will had been met in full, he was going to return to London and she would never see him again.
With a muffled sob she turned on her heel and fled down the hall.
At the sound of a soft cry, Derek whirled around. Biting back a savage curse when he saw a flash of Eleanor’s blue dress as she bolted away from the door, he immediately went after her. He could hear Norton shouting something at him, but his cousin’s whiny voice paled in comparison the dull roaring in his ears.
“See that my cousin is immediately escorted off the property,” he told the first footman he came across. “And if he tries to return, shoot him.”
With that matter finished, he set off to find Eleanor. Knowing a search of the house would prove futile, he went immediately to the old carriage barn. She’d barred the door against him, but with one kick of his boot he sent it crashing open.
“Get out!” Eleanor she cried when he stepped inside, dashing at her cheeks as she rose from the pile of straw she’d been crouched in. Donald and Ronald stood on either side of her, their necks arched and their feathers raised. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“I know what you think you heard,” he began in a low, soothing tone. “But you have to let me explain–”
“Did you or did you not come here with the sole purpose of consummating our marriage so you wouldn’t lose your title to your cousin?” she demanded hotly.
“Yes, that’s why I came here,” he admitted, and pain sliced through him like a dagger to the heart when her bottom lip wobbled. He took a step towards her. Would have taken another if not for Donald and Ronald’s low warning hiss. Damned geese. The things were more dangerous than a pair of wolfhounds. “That’s why I came here,” he repeated, lifting his arms beseechingly. “But it’s not why I stayed.”
With an incredulous snort she turned her head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Eleanor, look at me,” he said softly. “Please. It’s not what you think.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she glared fiercely at him. It was the first time he had ever seen her cry, and his heart ached anew to know that he was the cause of all her pain. If only he’d explained the bloody will before now…but things had been going so well he’d been reluctant to bring it up for fear of this exact reaction.
“I thought – I thought you were falling in love with me,” she whispered.
“I am falling in love with you.” His hands curled into fists. “I have fallen in love with you.”
“No you haven’t,” she said, shaking her head from side to side. “It was all a ruse. An act. You played me like a fool, and the worst thing is that I let you do it.”
“If you would just – dammit!” he exclaimed when he tried to get closer to her and one of the geese lashed out. “Call off your guard dogs, Red. Let me explain.”
Reaching into a metal bin, she picked up a handful of corn and tossed it behind her into the straw. “There,” she said as Ronald and Donald waddled away. “Now you can explain.”
“You’re right about the will. I discovered the terms shortly after my grandfather died and I inherited everything. My relationship with him was…let’s just say it was tumultuous. He knew the last thing I wanted to do was marry, at least before I turned thirty, and so that was the one thing he forced me to do.” Derek’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “He also knew I would never allow Hawkridge to go to Norton. As you saw for yourself, the conniving little bastard is even worse than I am.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Eleanor muttered under her breath. “Was it all planned then, from the very beginning?”
“No.” In two strides he was standing directly in front of her. Reaching out, he brushed his thumb across her damp cheek, catching a tear before it could roll down her chin. “You were never planned, Eleanor. I know I haven’t been a good husband to you. I know you have no reason to believe me, other than the fact that I have no reason to lie. So know that I speak the absolute truth when I tell you that you were never the wife I wanted. But you were always the wife I needed,” he murmured into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her gently against his chest. “I’m just so bloody sorry it took me a damned year to realize it.”
“Eleven months and fifteen days,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
“What?” he said with a frown.
“Eleven months and fifteen days. That’s exactly how long it took you to realize that you’re hopelessly, helplessly in love with me.” When she tipped back her head all of her tears were gone and she was smiling the brightest, most beautiful smile he had ever seen. At the sight of it he exhaled the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding and tightened his grip.
“Do you forgive me then?” he asked, gazing down into her brilliant green eyes. Green eyes that were filled with more love and understanding than he had any right to deserve. “I know I should have told you about the will sooner. I was an idiot not to.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “You were. But I do forgive you. On one condition.”
“Anything,” he said instantly.
“Henny has been feeling rather lonely lately–”
“No,” he said, already shaking his head. “That hedgehog has already caused enough damage. We’re not getting another.”
“That hedgehog is the only reason we’re together,” she countered.
When she put it that way…
“Very well. You can have as many hedgehogs as your heart desires.” Lifting her chin, he grinned crookedly down into her beaming face. “But only if you kiss me first.”
With a musical laugh, she threw her arms around his neck. “I thought you’d never ask…”
Epilogue
4 years, 9 months, and 11 days later…
“Mum! Mum! They’re hatching! They’re hatching! Come quickly.” Grabbing onto her mother’s wrist with surprising strength given her diminutive size, four-year-old Olivia dragged a laughing Eleanor out of the drawing room and into the foyer.
“You’ll need a hat and cloak,” Eleanor told her daughter sternly. “It’s cold outside.”
“But it’s spring.” Olivia’s freckled nose scrunched up in defiance. “And you never wear a hat.”
Stubborn little brat, Eleanor thought with great affection. Olivia may have inherited her father’s dark hair, but her freckles and opinionated nature came straight from her mother.
“I will this time.” Reaching into the closet, Eleanor pulled out the first hat she could find, a straw Capote trimmed with blue ribbon and white silk flowers. “There,” she said, adjusting the wide brim so it was centered over her forehead. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Derek drawled as he entered the foyer and kissed his wife’s cheek before looping his arm around her waist and tucking her snugly against his side. “Where are my two favorite ladies off to on this fine morning?”
“The eggs are hatching!” Olivia exclaimed, her ebony curls bouncing as she jumped up and down with excitement.
“Are they?” said Derek with wide-eyed surprise. “Well then, this is a very serious occasion indeed. Shall I call for the trumpets?”
The corners of her mouth twitching, Eleanor slanted her husband an amused glance. Nearly six years married and he never failed to make her smile each and every day. She’d thought she was in love with him before their children were born, but it was nothing compared to what she felt for him now.
When her belly was heavy with Olivia he’d confessed to her that he was afraid of what sort of father he would be. Having lost his own at such a young age, he had only his grandfather for comparison, a man whom Eleanor was very glad she never had the occasion to meet.
‘I very nearly ruined our marriage,’ he said, brandy eyes dark with worry. ‘What if I r
uin our child? What if he or she despises me?’
‘Just be yourself,’ she told him before taking his hand and pressing it to her abdomen. ‘There, do you feel that strong kick? Our baby loves you already. All you have to do is love him or her in return.’
And he had. First Olivia and then Byron, now eight months old and growing like a weed. Fatherhood had also had the added benefit of making him an even better husband. Gone was the arrogant cad she’d married. In his place was a man who valued family first and foremost. A man who understood what was important in life. A man who finally knew that love wasn’t an inconvenience, but a gift. The most precious gift a person could give or receive.
They still argued, of course. They were both too stubborn not to. But they always made up in the most delicious of ways, and Eleanor was fairly certain one of their latest arguments was going to yield a wonderful surprise in the coming months. It was still too early to know with absolute certainty, but she had a feeling. The same wonderful, glowing feeling she’d had with Olivia and Byron. That, coupled with the fact that she’d tossed up a perfectly good blueberry scone this morning, made her almost positive she was carrying their third child.
“Oh, I don’t think there’s time for trumpets,” she said, looking at Derek with mock seriousness. “Best we get down to the pond as quick as we can.”
“Before all of the eggs hatch!” Olivia shouted, clapping her hands with glee.
“Precisely. Have you seen your brother and Mrs. Faraday?” she asked, referring to the children’s nanny, a sweet woman in her mid-forties who had the patience of a saint, a necessary requirement when dealing with a very stubborn four-year-old.
“She just took Byron to the nursery for another nap.” Olivia’s hands dropped to her waist as she rolled her eyes. “Babies sleep a lot.”
“That they do, half pint.” Derek ruffled his daughter’s hair. “That they do. As soon as you put on a hat like your mother instructed, we can go see if the eggs have hatched.”
A Duchess for all Seasons: The Collection Page 19
