by Eva Leigh
As he spoke, she felt her pulse speed faster and faster.
His gaze burned her. “Jess. You did hurt me. Terribly. But,” he continued over her when she tried to apologize again, “I understand why you did what you did. The wound you gave me would not have been so deep if I hadn’t loved you.”
Her breath caught, yet she said, “Loved. Past tense.”
“Present tense.” He reached up and gently cupped her jaw. “I love you, Jess. I never stopped. You’re courageous and you know your mind and you’re the most intelligent person I know—and I know some damned brilliant people. And,” he went on, his words so deep that they went right to the heart of her, “you see me not as a duke, but as a man.”
He tipped her chin up as he stepped even closer, the distance between them shrinking to scant inches. “When I’m with you, I’m more myself than ever before. I know what I am with you. I know who I am.”
“Who are you?” she breathed.
“I’m just Noel. You are just Jess.” His voice thickened. “And I would be so honored, so very humbled, if you would be my duchess.”
She stared at him. Surely she hadn’t heard him properly. “I’m a commoner. I deceived you.”
“Yes, and yes.” Naked longing shone in his gaze. “And I want to move forward with you in my life. Be beside me, Jess. Always.”
“I . . .” She couldn’t find words, not a single one. Happiness rushed through her, so intense it verged on pain, but she leaned into that pain. Loving it. Loving him.
His brow furrowed. “Do you want me to kneel? Because I will do it. I’ll kneel for you, Jess. Only you.”
When he started to sink down, she gripped his arms tightly, trying to keep him on his feet. He looked up at her, a flare of fear in his eyes, as if she might refuse him.
Nothing could be further from the truth. “Not yet,” she murmured. “The next time you kneel before me, by God, we will have the time and privacy to enjoy it.” She went on, “I do love you on your knees. I love that you love me to command you. I will, you know. Command you.”
Slowly, his expression brightened. “What will you command me to do?”
“So many wicked things. You do them so well.” She lifted up on her toes to put her mouth to his.
He kissed her back, searing and urgent. Then he pulled away enough to ask, “That’s a yes?”
She laughed. “It’s a yes. But, Noel,” she could not stop herself from saying, “all of what I said is true. I’m a commoner, a farmer’s daughter. Surely if I become your duchess, you will shock Society. You’ll lose friends.”
“I might,” he said. “And I don’t give a goddamn about it. What Society believes doesn’t matter to me. And my true friends will adore you, as I do.”
“Not exactly as you do,” she said with a grin.
“Not exactly.” He looped his arms around her, drawing her as close as two clothed beings could be. “I vow to spend the remainder of my days serving you, giving you pleasure. Loving you.” His gaze was dark and limitless and hot. “Will that satisfy you, Jess?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered against his lips. “That will satisfy me, indeed.”
Epilogue
Four months later
The open window let in a faint trace of woodsmoke on the crisp autumn air. From her place at the kitchen table, with the ledgers open in front of her, Jess drew the fragrance deep into her lungs.
She sanded the pages now covered with her columns of numbers. Her work had taken her most of the morning and into the afternoon, but she didn’t mind her labor. Not when the end result was so wonderful.
Jess stretched as she rose from the table, working out the stiffness that had collected in her bones from sitting for hours. Once she’d loosened her body, she headed outside, eager to tell everyone the good news.
McGale & McGale Honey Soap thrived. She had the figures to prove it.
The staff was busy making enough soap to fill the staggering number of orders that had come in now that the term of exclusivity with Daley’s had ended. It seemed that having a duchess as part owner and operator of a business was enough of a novelty to attract customers, but the quality of the product kept them coming back for more.
Meeting the demand had been a struggle, since there simply hadn’t been enough hands. But after sending out word that the operation was in the process of expansion and in need of help, people found their way to Honiton. Many of the McGale & McGale workers were veterans, as well as widows, and others seeking steady employment.
She headed toward the main barn. As she walked toward it, she passed Fred.
“Come with me,” she said to him. “I’ve some information to share with you, Cynthia, and Noel.”
“You’ll find both of them in the shipping yard,” Fred said. “Can’t you tell me now?”
“No preferential treatment.” Jess sniffed, but she likely punctured her faux annoyance by grinning. “About-face, sirrah.”
Her brother grumbled, but he fell into step beside her as they walked toward the part of the farm where delivery drays were loaded. Several heavy wagons stood there now, and a line of workers passed crates of soap to each other, moving them from where they were boxed up to the drays themselves.
As Jess neared, her gaze moved down the line of workers. One man had his back to her as he accepted each box and stacked them in the bed of the wagon, working without a coat and waistcoat. No mistaking who it was—her husband.
The wild happiness she felt whenever she saw him struck her anew. It opened petals within her, blossoming.
“A duke stacking boxes of soap in a wagon is certainly not a typically aristocratic pastime,” she said as she approached. “But you’re anything from a typical aristocrat.”
“That’s because I’ve perfected what it means to be a toff,” he said easily.
“I’ve some news,” she said.
“Paul, will you take my place in line?” Noel asked the man standing beside him. When Paul nodded, Noel stepped away from his task. He grabbed his coat and waistcoat, which had been draped over one side of the wagon, and shrugged into both of them. A moment later, he stood next to Jess and took her hand in his.
At this rate, Jess would have a whole meadow full of happiness blooming inside her.
“Tell us!” Cynthia said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Jess looked at each of them—her sister, Fred, and Noel all looking at her expectantly—and couldn’t contain her grin. “We’ve made a profit. Not a little one, either. Our net profit margin is twenty-three percent.”
Cynthia let out a whoop, and Fred beamed.
Noel turned to her and cupped her jaw with one of his broad hands. Affection was warm in his gaze as he murmured, “By God, Jess, you’re a wonder.”
“It was a group effort,” she said. “The credit belongs to all of us.”
“But you were the one steering the ship. You brought us here.”
“I like that.” She ran her fingertip over his lips. “How you say us.”
“It’s always us, Jess.”
He bent to kiss her, but froze when Cynthia called, “Oof, have a care for your workers’ delicate sensibilities.”
Jess scowled at her sister. Before Jess could call back a rude reply, Noel lightly held her chin and moved her to face him once more.
He kissed her. In full view of all of their workers, uncaring what anyone might think of a duke seducing his duchess in plain sight, he kissed her deeply.
“For God’s sake,” Cynthia grumbled. “Flaunt your undying love somewhere else.”
“As you like, dearest little sister,” Jess said, though her words were a little breathless.
“Meant to tell you,” Noel said, weaving his fingers with hers and leading her away, “a letter came to Carriford this morning and I hadn’t a chance to say. Lord Trask has already requested that we both attend next year’s Bazaar.”
“That’s not for months and months.”
Noel shrugged. “Suppose he wanted, and I
quote, ‘two of England’s top financial minds’ to give his event a little more polish. After the wild success of Catton’s, and then the Graveses’ fire-suppression system, he knew that we were both necessary components for the Bazaar.”
“A wise man, that Lord Trask.” She noticed that Noel guided her toward their waiting carriage. “Should we go back to Carriford now? They might need me here.”
“They might,” he agreed. “Did you want to remain?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“If you need me.”
His gaze turned sultry and his voice dropped into a growl. “I need you, Jess. Now.”
Her whole body heated, and she slid her hands up his solid chest. “That’s something we haven’t tried.” She glanced meaningfully at the carriage.
“Today’s the day we do.” He helped her up into the vehicle, then climbed in beside her and shut the door. He pulled down the curtains in each of the windows, turning the interior of the carriage dim and intimate.
At once, he knelt between her legs, his hands gathering her skirts as they slid up her legs.
She tried for a laugh, but the sound came out more of a gasp. Arousal climbed higher with each of his caresses. “What have I done with the influential, urbane duke?”
“He’s right here,” Noel rumbled. “On his knees before you. Exactly where he wants to be.”
Acknowledgments
This will be my twenty-seventh published romance and you’d think that the process gets easier with so much time and experience. It doesn’t. But thanks to the efforts of some truly amazing people, you’re currently reading an actual book and not a tear-stained scribbled note of apology.
To begin with, I want to thank Nicole Fischer, who very politely and kindly let me know that perhaps a romance and not a thinly veiled critique of capitalism was more what readers wanted. Thank you for guiding me through a rocky and challenging process, to create a book worthy of Rotherby and Jess.
Thank you to Kevan Lyon, who has championed my work for thirteen years, and Patricia Nelson, who keeps an eye on the details.
Thank you to Pamela Spengler-Jaffee, the hardest-working woman in publishing.
My sincerest gratitude and thanks to Rose Lerner, Theresa Romain, Megan Frampton, Sasha Strachan, Jen DeLuca (Hook gifs forever!), Sarah MacLean, Jenny Nordbak, Erin Ljungdahl (sorry Smith’s Wealth of Nations didn’t make it into the book), Farrah Rochon, Caroline Linden, Darcy Burke, and Tracey Livesay.
And thank you, dear reader, for going on this totally awesome ’80s-inspired journey with me.
Announcement
Keep an eye out for McCameron’s story . . .
WAITING FOR A SCOT LIKE YOU
Coming Spring 2021
Can you guess who his love interest will be?
Hint: it’s a road trip story and the carefree lady finds a party wherever she goes . . .
About the Author
EVA LEIGH is a romance author who has always loved the Regency era. She writes novels chock-full of determined women and sexy men. She enjoys baking, spending too much time on the Internet, and listening to music from the ’80s. Eva and her husband live in Central California.
evaleighauthor.com
Facebook: zoe.archer1
Twitter: Zoe_Archer
Instagram: zoearcher73
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By Eva Leigh
The Wicked Quills of London
Forever Your Earl
Scandal Takes the Stage
Temptations of a Wallflower
The London Underground
From Duke Till Dawn
Counting on a Countess
Dare to Love a Duke
The Union of the Rakes
My Fake Rake
Would I Lie to the Duke
Coming Soon
Waiting for a Scot Like You
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
would i lie to the duke. Copyright © 2020 by Ami Silber. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition AUGUST 2020 ISBN: 978-0-06-293243-3
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-293242-6
Cover design by Amy Halperin
Cover illustration by Jon Paul Ferrara
Avon, Avon & logo, and Avon Books & logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
HarperCollins is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
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