A Duke Like No Other (The Dukes' Club Book 12)

by Eva Devon

  She’d never done anything like it before, and it was the most marvelous thing in the whole world. She never wanted to let that go, and it terrified her.

  She’d never thought she’d want to be with someone for the rest of her life. But suddenly, she found herself contemplating Andrew and his powerful embrace, wondering if she could have it for all time. It was bloody terrifying.

  And so, as she climbed into his curricle, she kept herself measured. She would not let him know how much she absolutely loved his company.

  Oh, she would enjoy herself, of course, but she did not wish him to know what an impact he had upon her. He gave her his hand, pulling her up into the high vehicle. With his other hand, he easily kept the horses in check. She’d never been on a curricle ride, and she was a wee bit trepidatious.

  Horses were still something of a mystery to her.

  Yes, it was true she could ride them, but they were volatile creatures, completely beautiful, and seeming to understand humans. And yet they had quite strong personalities of their own. She often wondered how humans had made such good friends with them. It astounded her that horses had allowed such a thing at all.

  Andrew pulled the sleek beasts around and headed for the park. The crisp air was delicious, which was quite surprising. She’d grown accustomed to the smoky air of London, but on this particular day, a breeze had come in and blown the dank air away.

  The sun shone overhead, and it was clear that spring was fully in sway. The trees danced overhead, the blossoms upon them heavy and beautiful.

  Hyde Park was just down the way, and she was astonished to find that the curricle was a remarkably smooth ride. In fact, it felt rather like she was flying, the way the horses pulled them so smoothly. And as soon as they reached the park, Andrew gave the horses a bit more head, allowing them to take to the Row. He encouraged them to pick up speed, and she clasped a hand to her tricorn hat as she laughed.

  “Enjoying it, are you?” he asked, his deep voice content.

  “Yes, of course,” she said, grinning. “It almost feels like we’re sailing.”

  “Sailing?” he echoed, his strong hands easily working the reins.

  She nodded, laughing joyously. “This is what it feels like when the ship goes and the wind has you and you’re off and nothing can stop you.”

  He laughed too. “Absolutely marvelous.”

  “It is,” she agreed.

  “So this will do?” he queried, his eyes alight with curiosity, “Instead of sailing, a curricle ride?”

  She stared at him. “Yes, it will absolutely do. Besides, I am quite enjoying the trees.”

  “Yes,” he teased. “There’s a bit of a shortage of trees at sea, isn’t there?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly, breathing the fresh air deep into her lungs. “There is a most definite shortage of trees at sea. Unless, of course, one counts the timbers one stands upon.”

  He hesitated. “Are you missing it a great deal, then?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Being at sea,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “I haven’t given it a great deal of thought,” she replied honestly.

  His brow furrowed with surprise. “Truly?” he queried.

  “Truly,” she repeated. “I am quite enjoying my time in London.”

  “I’m most surprised,” he confessed. “I never thought London would hold your interest for long.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it won’t,” she rushed, suddenly feeling as if she had given too much away. “Any day, I still feel that urge to go off to parts unknown.”

  The smile seemed to dim from his eyes.

  “Does that disappoint you?” she asked.

  “Of course not. It is the expectation we’ve always had,” he said though a good deal of the happiness dimmed from his voice.

  She nodded.

  She didn’t wish to ask, what if she stayed? What if they changed their expectation? For that was not the relationship they had.

  It was not the relationship they had promised each other. Now, it seemed as if it would be greatly foolish if she were to suggest something else.

  She was not supposed to do that, so she would not. Would she? No. It was an impossible thing. She was not willing to put her heart in such jeopardy. It was far too terrifying. She’d seen the way her mother had suffered from love. She would not do such a thing herself.

  Still, Andrew looked a bit dark now, as if a cloud had come over his beautiful, perfect, sunny day at the idea that she might be going off at any particular moment.

  That should have heartened her, shouldn’t it, the idea that he wanted her to stay?

  But it didn’t, because she was afraid he wouldn’t truly wish her for long, that maybe the end of their relationship was just around the corner. . . And then he would find someone new or someone to marry.

  Because marry, he would.

  A man like Andrew had to.

  And he certainly wouldn’t marry someone like her. Nor did she wish him to. . . Did she?

  And so they rode on in silence for a few moments.

  She hated it. The feeling between them that something was just a little bit off. The past weeks had been wonderful. Every day had been better than the last, and they’d enjoyed each other thoroughly.

  So much so that perhaps they were now both of them wondering how long it could last.

  It didn’t seem fair that joy or happiness was only allowed to exist for a short period of time before one was already anticipating the end of it. It seemed quite cruel, really, but here they were.

  Even with the flower-tinged air, with lilacs dancing about them, they were both seemingly on edge.

  “Shall we go out this evening?” she asked, longing to break the silence.

  “If you should like to,” he replied, keeping the horses steady.

  “Oh dear,” she said. “That sounds much more like you’d prefer to stay in.”

  “Of course I’d preferred to stay in,” he said, his eyes warm with desire. “I would love to take you before my fire, stretch you out and—”

  Just the hint of promise sent a wave of hunger for him through her. “Someone will overhear you,” she said.

  “They shan’t,” he said with a wink. “The horses’ hooves will cover any scandalous thing I can say.”

  “Ah,” she said. “But they will see it in the way you’re leaning towards me, the scandal in your voice.”

  “You,” he said, “are far too concerned about scandal for a lady Captain.”

  “Not at all,” she scoffed lightly. “I have no concern. But you should be concerned if you’re going to find yourself a young lady one of these days, to wife.”

  He frowned at that. “I don’t really care to think about that right now.”

  “Surely, you are going to be doing it soon,” she ventured. “You did say that you would.”

  “I didn’t think you would be interested in my future,” he said tightly.

  “Oh, I’m not,” she said. “But I do wish you to be happy. It’s none of my business who you marry. But still, I would love to know you happy when I go.”

  “When you go,” he repeated, his face blank.

  “Yes,” she said, then with forced cheer, added, “And I don’t want you to pick anyone too silly.”

  “You must have very low expectations of my abilities if you think I would marry someone silly.”

  “Well,” she said, clearing her throat and wondering about the wisdom of this conversation. “One can be quite foolish when it comes to marriage.”

  “Indeed,” he agreed. “All of us can. But I am not driven by the needs of other men.”

  “No?” she asked, wondering what he could mean.

  “No,” he said softly. “I need not necessarily marry for money or station. I can marry who I choose.”

  “Can you?” She arched a brow, skeptical. “I don’t believe that to be true. I think you shall have to marry for societal expectations. You will marry a l
ady, someone from a good family, and someone who will be able to manage your house as they should.”

  He frowned at that. “That’s not inaccurate,” he admitted. “But if I wished to marry someone a bit different, I could.”

  “Oh?” she queried, feeling suddenly alert to this strange conversation.

  “Yes,” he said, and then suddenly was very quiet and added, “I could marry someone like you.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she gasped.

  “I could marry someone like you,” he repeated, his voice that delicious low rumble.

  Her heart began to hammer in her chest, and she could scarce draw breath. Suddenly, she felt like the air was full of dust and she was choking on it. “I-I—”

  “I see,” he said, turning away. “It is not something that interests you. In fact, it looks as if it terrifies you.”

  “It does terrify me,” she said. “I’d never thought to marry anyone.”

  “And certainly not someone like me, an English lord,” he pointed out.

  “Exactly. Definitely not an English lord,” she said, her smile strained.

  “No doubt, you’ll marry some sailor someday, some ship’s captain, who will take you away all over the seven seas.”

  “I had not thought to marry at all, and certainly not another captain,” she protested quickly, sensing he had not been entirely in jest. “But I truly had not given the idea any credence. After what happened to my mother, I just never thought that—”

  “I understand,” he cut in. “Let us go back, I find I am suddenly tired.”

  “As am I,” she whispered, suddenly feeling that a few short words had changed everything and that the happiness she felt over the last weeks had slipped through her fingers just as she knew it would. . .

  Chapter 17

  “I asked her to marry me.”

  Ellesmere sputtered on his brandy. “You did what?”

  Andrew leaned back in the leather chair, ground his teeth, and contemplated picking up the crystal decanter of brandy. . . A snifter wasn’t going to do it. But that wasn’t quite the done thing in the club.

  “I asked her to marry me,” he repeated.

  Ellesmere sat up straighter. “You didn’t?”

  “I did,” Andrew countered, before taking a fortifying drink. “And she looked absolutely horrified.”

  “What the devil did she say?” Ellesmere demanded, smoothing a hand down his waistcoat.

  Andrew grimaced, he didn’t wish to dwell upon it, but he could not cause the spiraling thoughts of the moment to cease. “Like I said, she looked absolutely horrified.”

  “That’s a no, then,” Ellesmere said with a sigh.

  “That’s a no,” Andrew confirmed, drinking again. If he could, he’d drift away on a sea of the stuff. After all, she’d likely soon be drifting off on a very real sea, herself. . . And she’d be out of his life. The agony of it shocked even him. It felt as if his heart had been yanked unmercifully from his chest.

  Ellesmere contemplated him, dark eyes wide. “I’m astonished you asked her to marry you at all. I had no idea you were thinking of doing it. I mean, it’s clear to everyone that you’re in love with her.”

  “I am not in love with her,” Andrew groaned, driving a hand through his hair.

  He was, though. There was no question.

  He absolutely adored Cleo Duke.

  She was everything he had ever wanted and more, and he’d loved spending every day with her, every night with her, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But the look on her face when he had proposed marriage made it very clear she had absolutely no interest in spending her life with him.

  Ellesmere stood and, sensing the severity of the moment, did not wait for assistance. He picked up the decanter of brandy and poured it liberally into their snifters.

  “Now,” Ellesmere began boldly. “Did you actually get down on one knee, old man, and ask her to marry you?”

  Andrew blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  Ellesmere blew out a derisive breath. “Bloody hell, old boy. That’s a no. Did you plan it at all?”

  Andrew stared up at his friend. Plan? Ha. Did one plan anything with Cleo?

  “Clearly not,” Ellesmere observed ruefully.

  “No, I was not planning it,” Andrew agreed, though he did not see that it would have made a great difference. “We were out for a ride in my curricle, and the conversation turned round to whom I would wed one day.”

  “Did it, by God?” Ellesmere asked, shocked.

  “She’s very concerned about my happiness apparently,” drawled Andrew.

  Ellesmere’s lips twitched. “Very kind of her, very kind.”

  “Yes,” Andrew said, wincing. “But apparently, she’s not interested in having a part in my future, except perhaps as friends one day.”

  “Damnation.” Ellesmere lifted his snifter and swirled the contents, clearly not as committed to sending himself three sheets to the wind. “But if you didn’t actually ask her properly, perhaps she was horrified by the way you asked rather than the concept of it. She does seem quite happy in your presence.”

  “I cannot imagine that is the case,” retorted Andrew. “She is an adventurer who has no desire to settle down.”

  Ellesmere was silent for a long moment then said firmly, “I had no idea you were such a coward, old man.”

  “A coward?” Andrew growled. “I asked her to marry me.”

  “You asked her to marry you out of hand, and you weren’t planning on it.” Ellesmere gave a firm shake of his head. “No. If you truly love her—and I believe that you do—and you wish to spend the rest of your life with her, you must ask her passionately. You must declare your feelings for her, and you mustn’t ask her in a sort of offhand way. Where’s the sense in that?”

  Andrew frowned. His friend had a point. He’d never really considered it like that before, but the idea of asking her again, well, it wasn’t really that horrible in the end. What was horrible was the idea of not seeing her anymore, of her leaving him, of her going off to parts unknown and of their affair ending when he wanted it to continue forever.

  He would absolutely loathe himself if he let her go easily now, and he would be a coward if he did not try again.

  So, as he squared his shoulders and put his snifter down, he knew that was exactly what he was going to do. He was going to pull himself together, and he was going to ask Cleo Duke to be his wife because he did love her, and he was never going to make the mistake of letting her go without trying damned hard to win her.

  “I can see you’ve decided to do it,” Ellesmere said, clapping him on the back. “Glad to hear it, old boy. That’s the spirit now, and I’ll be there to support you whatever way it goes.”

  “Thank you for that,” Andrew said, feeling a strong mixture of hope and trepidation.

  “Most welcome,” Ellesmere said, grinning. “Besides, she promised she’d help me find someone. She has to stay around.”

  Andrew laughed at that. “I like the way you think, Ellesmere. Let’s consider that as a part of our tactic, eh? Convincing her to stay.”

  “I think that sounds absolutely splendid.” Ellesmere agreed. “Surely, a woman like Cleo has no wish to go off.”

  “A girl like Cleo,” warned Andrew, knowing there was nothing certain about any of this, “is completely unpredictable. . . and whatever the consequences, I love her with my whole, damned, ridiculous heart.”

  Chapter 18

  Cleo wanted to kick herself all over London with her favorite pair of boots.

  Andrew had asked her to marry him, and what had she done?

  She’d stared at him as if he’d lost his head.

  Oh, the horror of it!

  She’d never imagined marrying anyone. She truly hadn’t. But the idea of marrying him, well. . . If she was completely honest with herself, it was rather marvelous.

  Though every part of her that had learned to be strong over the years warned against it, she had to admit.
. . she absolutely loved him. Every day had been happier in his presence.

  Oh, she had the history of her parents to think of, it was true, knowing that her father had made her mother unhappy. But when one did not take chances in this life, there was no chance at joy or happiness. That was something her mother had taught her, and something she had seen proved again and again.

  Lady Beatrix peered at her over her tea. “You look most perplexed.”

  “I am,” Cleo said, making no attempt to hide it. There was no point, not with her sister-in-law and now friend.

  “What ever is bothering you?” Lady Beatrix asked.

  Cleo bit her lower lip then blurted, “I’ve fallen in love.”

  “Have you?” Beatrix asked, beaming as she added another two lumps of sugar to her tea. “I’m delighted to hear it. And so will your brothers be.”

  “I doubt that very much. I’ve fallen in love with the—”

  “The Earl of Rutherford,” finished Lady Beatrix.

  “Is it so very obvious?” Cleo asked, plunking her elbows upon the linen-covered table as she groaned. “How did this happen?”

  “Well, you spent a great deal of time together,” Lady Beatrix pointed out as she stirred her tea until it was the perfect temperature. “And you two happened to hit it off marvelously and are perfect for each other. That’s all there is to it. Your personalities suit.”

  “Is that it?” Cleo asked, amazed at how simple her sister-in-law made it.

  “Indeed, it is.” Lady Beatrix took a satisfied sip of tea then smiled. “And I shall be very happy to go to your wedding.”

  Cleo cradled her head with her hands. “He will not ask me to again.”

  Lady Beatrix coughed on her tea. “He asked you?”

  “Yes,” Cleo said, lifting her head and meeting the shock on Beatrix’s face.

  “And you did not say yes when you clearly wish to?” Beatrix asked, amazed. “Why are we, humans, such fools?”

  “It is most complicated,” defended Cleo.

  “And what, dare I ask, is so very complicated about it?” Beatrix demanded. “He asked you to marry him, and you love him. Therefore, you should.”

  “But what will I do?” Cleo lamented. “I travel the world.”