by Eva Devon
A
Duke
Like No
Other
by
Eva Devon
The Dukes’ Club
Book 12
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the work of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
A Duke Like No Other
Copyright © 2020 by Máire Creegan
All rights reserved. No redistribution is authorized.
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The men in my life are my reason. Thank you to my husband and my beautiful, kind sons. | Special thanks to: | Patricia and Monica.
Don’t miss the other Dukes’ Club Books! Did you miss Calliope’s Book? Read here! | https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074CB5VC7?ref_=dbs_s_ks_series_rwt | Join Eva on FB at Devon’s Duchesses for fun, parties, and books! | https://www.facebook.com/groups/1489341377764647/
The men in my life are my reason. Thank you to my husband and my beautiful, kind sons.
Special thanks to:
Patricia and Monica.
Chapter 1
Cleo Duke was going to do murder.
The fact that the victim was an Englishman only made the prospect more appealing.
“My God!” she exclaimed. “What have you done?”
She stared at the devilishly handsome man in the shadows of the dim coaching inn room, wanting to throttle him. How had he done such a thing? She had had Captain Lockhart Eversleigh in her grasp. The bastard. And this man, this beautiful, poncy, linen-wearing fool had absolutely ruined everything! He stood staring right back at her.
Well, staring down at her, for he was taller than six feet, and she was rather diminutive though she was reticent to admit it.
“Madam, you kidnapped him,” he drawled with a sanguine arch of his russet brow.
“Kidnapped,” she agreed without apology. “Taken, abducted. Anything you wish to say, is absolutely true, but he deserved it.”
The man scowled at her from his impossible height. “Deserved it or no, you may not abduct any one you please.”
She cocked her chin up at him. “I think I may,” she countered. “I was very successful in the endeavor until you came along.”
“Madam,” he gritted, folding his remarkably muscular arms across his remarkably muscular chest. He squared his jaw and said, rather grandly, “You may not abduct people. This is England.”
She snorted, though she was impressed with his posture. Who would not be? “Oh, do you think because it’s England, it’s somehow more unacceptable than any other place in the world?”
“Yes,” he replied simply. “This is a place of order and rule.”
“Ha!” she exclaimed, stunned by his silly naiveté. Though, given that he was a lord and a true blue Englishman, she should not have been in this particular regard. “This is a place of fools and oppression.”
His brows drew together, clearly mystified by her.
“I ought to box you,” she said.
“You could try,” he declared. “Though I am unaccustomed to ladies attempting to strike my person.”
“I would succeed,” she countered.
He grimaced. “I know you wished to take Captain Eversleigh with you, but I couldn’t let you do it.”
“Why?” she demanded. “He was mine and my brothers’.”
“That is exactly why,” the man said, exasperated. The faint moonlight poured in through the window, playing over his perfectly tailored linen shirt and breeches. Even his boots somehow managed to shine. “You do realize his family would never have forgiven you all?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “We are not interested in forgiveness.” She narrowed her gaze. “We are interested in making my sister happy.”
“She would never have been happy after such a thing,” the man replied.
“How the devil would you know?” she scoffed. “You don’t know my sister at all.”
He sighed. “You’d be surprised.”
“What the devil do you mean?” she countered, folding her own arms defiantly against her chest.
“I had the good fortune to meet her just recently,” he said ruefully.
Cleo Duke cocked her head to the side. The man she had abducted was the man her sister was in love with, and now she would not be able to deliver him on a platter to her sister and bring her happiness back.
Oh, no, now the man had run off into the night, and she was stuck with another Englishman entirely. An interesting, beautiful, articulate, and capable Englishman, but an Englishman nonetheless.
“Who the devil exactly are you?” she demanded. “Because I want to know the name to write upon your tombstone.”
He laughed then, his sensual lips twitching with distinct amusement. “My name is Andrew Greenborough, the Earl of Rutherford, and I won’t be dying anytime yet.”
“And why is that?” she said, whipping the dagger from her waistband, tempted to prick him just to pierce his veneer of calm. Most of her life had been spent sailing around the globe, and she’d never met anyone so self-possessed as this fellow.
“Because you don’t actually wish to kill me,” he said, his gaze meeting hers. “And the truth is, I haven’t gotten an heir yet, and I’ve got no cousins. It wouldn’t do, you know, to go and ruin my earldom without at last producing an heir.”
She gaped at him. “Is that truly all you care about? Is that what your life is worth? The production of an heir?”
He shrugged, his massive shoulders rippling at the seemingly effortless gesture. “It does seem to be the main point of my existence, to produce another one of me.”
Another one of him. The idea was not entirely unappealing. There was something beautiful and rich about the tone of his voice, and the way he filled the space around him was, well, it was rather captivating.
They stood in the small room above the coaching inn. The din below was full of the screech of a fiddle, the chatter of men and women traveling across the country, and the scent of roasting venison stew in the air.
“I really ought to abduct you now, for revenge,” she said.
“You could try,” he said.
“I would succeed,” she replied.
Those sensual lips twitched again. “You said that already.”
“I’m saying it again.”
“What if I liked it?” he queried, his voice a low rumble.
“I beg your pardon?”
He cocked his head to the side. “What if I liked the idea of you abducting me?”
“Don’t be absurd,” she huffed, tucking her dagger away. She wouldn’t kill him today. He was clearly mad.
“I’m not being absurd.” He frowned then dropped his arms to his sides. “I’m rather tired of my life, if you must know.”
“How can you possibly be tired of your life? You’re an earl.” She studied him, wondering if all people in his position were bored. “You’re one of the luckiest people in the world.”
“It’s true,” he said. “But my life is rather dull.”
“That is your fault, not mine,” she pointed out without sympathy. “Anyone with as many possibilities as you is solely responsible for the uneventfulness of their life.”
&
nbsp; He laughed again. “I cannot argue that, but you must understand that my life is ruled by duty, and for just a few moments, there is a part of me that sometimes wishes I could simply—”
She leaned forward, amazed by his honesty. “Run away?”
He nodded then blew out a breath. “Something like that, or at least go adventuring like you do.”
She laughed in turn. “Adventuring? How the devil do you know so much about me?”
He waggled his brows. “So you confess, then, that you do go adventuring? I quite like your sister, you know? She is a remarkable woman, and, well, I might’ve gotten very close to asking her to marry me.”
“Well, that’s very awkward, considering we’re identical twins,” Cleo said.
“Yes,” he laughed. “It is. But it wasn’t that I was in love with her or that I wanted her particularl—”
“Oh, how complimentary,” she cut in.
“It was the way she lived, the way she lives her life.” Something earnest filled his voice. Admiration and longing deepened his tone. “No doubt the way you live your life too, that really appealed to me.”
“This is the most shocking of conversation,” she said with a purse of her lips. “Really. I am standing here with a dagger, still tempted to skewer you, and you’re telling me you might have asked my sister to marry you, and then you declare you simply like my way of life?”
He groaned, clearly realizing how terrible it sounded. “I suppose I’m looking for any sort of escape.”
“Well, death is an escape,” she teased.
“Yes, but it’s rather permanent,” he replied.
“I’m not surprised my sister told you no,” she said abruptly, considering his odd predicament. “I know I cannot marry a man I loathe.”
“You loathe me, do you?” he queried.
“Oh, indeed.” She circled to the right of him. “You made my life absolute hell.”
“No, I haven’t,” he protested. “I’ve just made it rather inconvenient for the moment. But truthfully, in the long run, you’re going to thank me.”
She guffawed at his absurd claim. “Thank you, my lord? I swear to God I never shall thank you if it’s the last thing I do. I’d rather die.”
“Don’t make promises you might one day have to keep,” he rumbled.
Good God, he was beautiful, Cleo thought.
It drove her a bit mad, the way he so easily accepted the things she said. Most Englishmen would have been absolutely writhing with torture at every word she uttered.
They would have hated her, scowled at her, and dismissed everything she had to say. But not him. He was giving as good as he got. And worse, he seemed to rather be enjoying their conversation, which was dismaying because, really, she had threatened to kill him. Clearly, he knew she wouldn’t do it. But she was tempted; she had killed men before, but never like this. It had always been in self-defense. When one sailed the most dangerous waters of this world, things did happen.
She pinned him with a hard stare. “My lord, when my brothers find out what you’ve done, they’re going to murder you.”
“Your brothers? Alexander and Adam?” He shook his head, confident. “No, they shan’t murder me. They might beat me to within an inch of my life. I guarantee you that’s true, but they’ll stop just in time.”
She gaped at him again. “You don’t seem particularly concerned by it.”
“Should I be?” His mouth quirked in a devilish smile. “A little bit of pain never hurt anyone very much.”
“Pain and hurting,” she said, “are synonymous.”
He sighed then wiped a hand over his beautiful face. “I suppose it’s true, but really, it doesn’t matter. A good beating, well, isn’t that the life of every boy in England?”
Her heart sank. How could he say such a thing? Was it true?
“You don’t truly mean that?” she asked. “You’re a lord.”
“Yes, I’m a lord,” he agreed, that devilish look still upon his face as he continued, “but that doesn’t mean I’ve lived on a pillow my entire existence. Clearly, you’re unfamiliar with English schooling, or schoolmasters, or the raising of an English boy who’s meant to feel nothing.”
“My goodness,” she gasped despite herself. “Apparently, I am not. But it would do a great deal of explaining towards all the Englishmen I’ve met if that has been your existence.”
He suddenly tensed as if he’d said too much. “Look here, I did allow Captain Lockhart Eversleigh to escape. I facilitated it because you must allow him to go after your sister of his own free will.”
“I should do no such thing.” But then she hesitated, truly taking in what he’d claimed. “How do you know he’ll actually go after her?”
“Because he’s in love with her, you fool,” he drawled.
“I am not a fool,” she replied, glaring daggers. “You’re the fool to trust Captain Eversleigh.”
“Oh, I trust him,” he said. “He’s one of the truest men I’ve ever known.”
“This is ridiculous,” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “Bickering over such a thing.”
“I agree.” He took a step forward, his long, hard leg eating up far too much space. “So, let me go.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not going to let you go just as yet. I need to tell my brothers what has happened.”
He lifted a hand and peered at his buffed nails. “I thought you were concerned about them murdering me?”
She groaned. “They won’t murder you, you’re correct.”
“And besides, if they do decide to beat me within an inch of my life, I can hold my own,” he said.
“Not with them,” she disagreed, feeling a bit dismayed at the idea of his perfect face bruised. “You’ve met Alexander and Adam, haven’t you?”
“Indeed, I have,” he said. “But they, they know that I’m quite capable.”
“Are you?” she asked. And as she gazed at his strong arms and carved jaw, she had a shocking feeling that, actually, yes. Yes, he might just be capable enough to outmaneuver her brothers, at least to survive long enough not to be murdered.
And that was no small feat, for her brothers had made their lives upon the sea, fighting pirates and other marauders.
An Englishman, a gentleman, a lord was not someone she would have thought could face them and come out on top, or at least at equal. But this man, she had a strange feeling, could. And it suddenly intrigued her. It shouldn’t, but it did.
For she had made a history of avoiding Englishmen, and a history of avoiding gentlemen in particular. She had no desire to give way to one now, except maybe, perhaps, to this particular one. He was rather lovely to look upon, and he said the most interesting things.
She shook her head as if coming up from water. “Stay here,” she said.
“Why the devil would I do what you say?” he asked.
“Because,” she said with a grin, “you like the way I live.”
Chapter 2
“He’s gone,” Cleo announced dramatically.
Adam Duke tensed on the rough wooden chair by the fire and growled over the din of the crowded inn’s common room. “What the devil do you mean he’s gone?”
“He’s absconded,” she announced, articulating herself clearly as she gazed from one handsome brother to the next.
“How the devil could he do that? We tied him up securely,” her brother Alexander exclaimed, his blond hair wild.
“He had help,” she confessed, wondering if she should try to assist the Englishman upstairs or throw him to the wolves. . . which in this case, happened to be her half-brothers.
“Help?” Alexander repeated.
“Not possibly you?” Adam asked, his bright eyes narrowing.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “Of course not me! The Earl of Rutherford.”
Adam and Alexander looked at each other.
Both of them stood abruptly.
Their chairs knocked back, and they started cutting through the crowd
for the hall.
“Wait!” she insisted, rushing behind them. “You’ll murder him if you go up now.”
“Of course we will,” Adam said over his broad shoulder. “And we’ll turn him into a wet spot upon the floor, for he deserves it. What the devil does that man think he’s doing, and to think I liked him.”
“I like him too,” Cloe answered truthfully.
Adam and Alexander stopped dead in their tracks in the middle of the inn, turned, and gaped at her as if she had gone mad.
“You like him?” Alexander tested.
She cleared her throat and confessed, “A bit.”
“An Englishman?” Adam asked, clearly flummoxed.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “I agree. It’s absurd, but there it is. He’s a rather interesting fellow, and I won’t deny it.”
“Well, then,” ventured Adam, folding his arms over his dusty travel coat. “You don’t wish us to murder him, but he has allowed Captain Lockhart Eversleigh to escape.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “That’s the gist of it.”
Adam arched a brow. “So, what do we do with him now?”
She shrugged. “We let him go—”
“I don’t think so,” Alexander cut in. “We have to make his life a little bit of hell. For so great an interference, you understand?”
She grinned at that. “That’s a very good idea. We could make his life very difficult for a bit, couldn’t we? For foiling our plans?”
“Indeed,” said Adam with a nod. “It’s the only thing to be done.”
Then he groaned. “I can’t believe we’re not going to be handing Calliope, Captain Lockhart on a platter.”
Cleo pursed her lips then said, “Rutherford seems to think he’ll go of his own accord.”
Alexander shuddered. “One can only hope the fool will do it. I really did think the only way he’d be with her is if we all took him to her. Well, we’ve lost that opportunity. . .” He cocked his head to the side. “And you truly don’t wish to murder Rutherford for it?”
She shook her head. “Is there anything we can truly do? The thing is done, and I don’t think we’ll be able to find him out on the moor or the heathland right now.”
