One Fine Duke

by Lenora Bell

  She’d been carried away by the contrast—the overwhelming fear and then the sudden relief and comfort of Drew’s strong arms. His intoxicating kiss.

  Mixing up the desire for adventure with desire for him. A dangerously narrow distinction.

  She was courting danger . . . she was courting him.

  She wanted him, desperately. She was inexperienced but she was willing to learn.

  She wanted everything he could teach her. Everything had seemed so clear cut and now everything was blurred.

  Chapter 19

  “Good evening, Wilhelmina.”

  Mina nearly jumped out of her skin. Uncle Malcolm was waiting for her in the doorway of the front parlor when the duke’s carriage dropped her back home.

  “You startled me, Uncle,” she said.

  “Come in here.”

  He knows everything. He’d had her followed. He knew what she’d been doing.

  Don’t confess to anything.

  At least she’d been kissing the man he wanted her to marry.

  He entered the parlor and indicated that she should sit in a chair near the fire. He took the seat across from her.

  Something was very wrong. His face was shuttered, his eyes hard.

  Sir Malcolm shook his head slightly. “You look . . . like your mother tonight.”

  “Do I really look like her?”

  “Too much.”

  For the first time she wondered about her uncle’s relationship with her mother. Had he admired her? There was something about the way he’d said those words.

  “I wish . . . I wish she could see you tonight,” he said.

  Now she knew something was very wrong. Her uncle never talked like this, he never gave her compliments.

  “I know it wasn’t easy for you to come and live with me. I hope I didn’t do wrong by you.”

  “You gave me a safe upbringing,” she said carefully.

  “I know you want to be here in London, that you view going back to Sutton Hall as an imprisonment, but something’s changed. You can’t stay here any longer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re returning to Sutton Hall with me. Tonight. There will always be another Season.”

  “First I had months, then weeks, and now minutes?” She struggled to keep her voice even but dread swamped her mind.

  “An old enemy has resurfaced after nearly a year. I’m going to be leaving London sooner than I thought I would, tomorrow morning, as a matter of fact. I won’t leave you with only Griselda. She’s too feeble and her headaches are becoming more frequent. The doctor told me that she requires absolute bed rest and silence.”

  “Let me stay, please. I can care for her.”

  “You’re not the most silent of creatures.”

  “If you fear for my safety, set a guard on me.”

  “The only place you’ll be truly safe—from my enemies and from yourself—is at Sutton Hall. It’s impenetrable.”

  If he was alluding to his espionage activities this must be a grave threat, indeed. “It’s Le Triton, isn’t it?”

  He sighed. “You know I can’t talk about that. You’re . . . you’re all I have.” A rare crack in his armor.

  “You’ve protected me too long, Uncle. You can’t stuff me full of cotton batting and keep me on a shelf like one of Great-Aunt Griselda’s hedgehogs. I tried so hard to become what you wanted me to be—a substitute for your own daughter. I suppressed my true nature and tried to be content with all of the restrictions. I wanted to be useful to you. I became your secretary, always thinking that if I worked hard enough you would . . .” her voice faltered.

  What—what had she been hoping for? Kindness, understanding . . . affection?

  His face remained closed. “Are you finished?”

  Stung, she nodded.

  “You’re far too clever, Mina. Clever enough to get yourself killed. Now not another word. Write Griselda a farewell note and we’ll go now.”

  “No.” The word rose from some buried well of anger and helplessness to explode from her mouth.

  “What did you say?” Her uncle’s eyes narrowed.

  “I won’t go.”

  “I’m your guardian and I’m sworn to protect you. I say you go to Sutton Hall.”

  She recognized the steel in his eyes, the coldness in his words. Her mind spun through all of the avenues she might try. But there was only one path she could see that would remove her from his power—break the hold he had over her.

  “You can’t make me go.” She rose from her chair. “Because I have a new protector now. I followed your instructions. I’m engaged to the Duke of Thorndon. Aren’t you proud of me?”

  His eyebrows rose. “You’re lying. I can feel it.”

  “I’m not. You don’t control me anymore. I’ll go and live at his house with his mother and sister until we can be married. His sister invited me to stay with them.”

  “When did this happen?” her uncle asked suspiciously.

  “Tonight. We kissed in the dark paths of Vauxhall and then he proposed.”

  “Proposed marriage?”

  “Of course marriage. What else? We’re madly in love.”

  “I don’t have time for your games. You’re coming with me now.”

  “Go and visit the duke tonight—he’ll tell you that it’s true.”

  If she could find a way to reach Drew first, plead her case, he might agree to help her.

  Grizzy’s ancient doorman tottered into the room. “Sir Malcolm, the Duke of Thorndon is here to see you.”

  “It seems the duke has come to us,” said her uncle.

  Drew strode into the room. “Forgive the intrusion, but you forgot your shawl in my carriage, Miss Penny.” He held out her ivory pashmina.

  “Your Grace,” said Sir Malcolm. “I believe we have much to discuss.”

  “Indeed?” asked Drew.

  “Indeed.” Mina moved toward him quickly. She’d whisper in his ear as she accepted her shawl.

  A hand clamped around her elbow and directed her, none too gently, toward the door.

  “This is between gentlemen, Wilhelmina,” said Sir Malcolm.

  “But—”

  Her uncle pushed her out of the room. The door closed with an ominous click.

  Dismissed. Locked outside. Her future a matter between gentlemen.

  She bit her lip so hard that it bled.

  If Drew chose to corroborate her lie, then she might be allowed to stay in London.

  But why would he? She’d made sure to antagonize him from the moment she met him. And all of those inappropriate kisses, most of which she had initiated. He didn’t think of her as a respectable, sensible candidate for his marriage of convenience.

  She’d dug her own grave.

  When he told her uncle that she’d lied, there would be no option but to go back to Sutton Hall or run away with no money, no means of supporting herself.

  Sir Malcolm’s network of informants and spies would find her within hours.

  Her entire future hinged on Drew trusting her to have had a valid reason for lying about their relationship.

  Her entire future was in his hands.

  Chapter 20

  Mina paced up and down the hallway. After what seemed like years the door to the parlor finally opened.

  “You may join us, Wilhelmina,” said Sir Malcolm. She couldn’t tell anything from his voice or his expression—he was unreadable as ever.

  She walked into the room, her heart leaping into her throat.

  Drew had a forbidding expression on his face. He had his arms crossed over his chest, her shawl still draped over his arm.

  Her heart sank. He hadn’t covered for her. How could she have expected him to go along with such a wild and unprincipled scheme? He prided himself on his iron control over his life.

  Had she really expected him to throw caution and control to the wind and lie to her uncle’s face?

  “Go to your room and gather your things, Wilhelmina,” Drew
said. “You’re coming to live with my mother until our wedding by special license.”

  Wedding?

  She searched his face. He gave her a nearly imperceptible nod, a small glimmer of warmth.

  She couldn’t believe it. He’d lied for her.

  She wanted to fling herself into his arms and pull his head down to her level for a glorious thank you kiss. But instead she merely inclined her head in an elegant manner befitting a future duchess. “Of course, my Duke.”

  “Take the long way home,” Drew instructed his coachman after he handed Mina into his carriage. He wanted some time to talk to her before he brought her home.

  “Imagine my surprise, Mina, when I returned a shawl and gained a fiancée,” he said, settling onto the seat across from her.

  She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, her eyes hidden by the shadow cast by her bonnet brim. “Why did you corroborate my lie?” she asked.

  He’d done it for many reasons, none of them practical. He couldn’t confess to the reason that remained topmost in his mind. When he’d returned her home that evening, he hadn’t wanted to leave her.

  He wanted to keep her by his side.

  It was as simple as that. Right now it was all he could do to remain seated across from her, instead of moving next to her. Taking her into his arms, where his heart told him that she belonged.

  He must choose his words carefully. He wasn’t thinking clearly. “When your uncle asked me if we had become betrothed this evening, I didn’t know what to say. We have shared several passionate embraces, and most would say that was grounds for an engagement.”

  “Oh no. Drew.” She twisted the edge of her shawl in her hands. “I’m not trying to trap you into marriage. I hope you didn’t agree out of some chivalrous notion that since we’ve kissed we must wed, because I don’t feel that way.”

  There may have been some chivalry involved. Some pride and some possessiveness. She brought that out in him. “All of this—the kissing, the search for Rafe, and now this fake engagement. Won’t any of it have consequences?”

  “Perhaps for me,” she replied softly, “but your life can go on exactly as it was before you met me. Once this is over, and we break things off, you’ll be able to find your sensible bride and bring her to Cornwall.”

  He didn’t know what he wanted anymore—for life to go back to the way it was before, or something else.

  A new way forward. A possibility he’d never imagined.

  “I don’t blame you if you’re angry with me,” she said, her voice quiet and subdued. “I know you don’t like to be caught off guard or to lose even an inch of control.”

  “I didn’t lose control, I seized it. There were two ways to turn—left or right. Good or bad. Moral or immoral.”

  “Agreeing to a fake engagement with me was the moral choice?”

  “You told me that going back to Sutton Hall would be like dying for you. After speaking with your uncle, I fully understand why. He doesn’t understand who you are at all. He thinks he can shape you, mold you into something he wants you to be.” He placed his hand against the seat cushion, wishing he could touch her instead. “He’s obviously deluded.”

  She frowned, and then her face cleared and her eyes brightened. “You understand. You really, truly understand.”

  “Don’t sound so shocked. I’m not without perceptive abilities.”

  “You know that he stifles me with his overprotectiveness, his rules and restrictions. And you’re offering me my freedom. It’s extraordinary. When I first met you I thought you were just like him. But you’re the complete opposite.” She met his gaze. “Drew. You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you.”

  The emotion lighting her eyes was reward enough. Though it was all a sham, and probably an enormous risk that could have unforeseen and damaging consequences, it all felt worthwhile in this moment.

  He’d helped her, he’d been useful to her, and he’d fought for her freedom.

  She was grateful. She was smiling. It made him happy.

  “I told him that his letter and my brief acquaintance with you had confirmed that you were the perfect choice of wife for me. I told him that we would be married by special license and I would hasten you back to Cornwall immediately, where you would stay under lock and key until you bore me an heir.”

  Her eyes widened. “You did not.”

  “Words to that effect. It seemed to be what he wanted to hear.”

  A slow smile spread across her face. “You’re brilliant. You were speaking his language. How did you know that would be the perfect thing to say?”

  “I know men like your uncle. They see the world always in terms of what it means to them, not what it means to other people. You were either going to become my wife, because then you would be mine to protect, or you’d be hidden away back in the countryside, where he could protect you. I told him that we didn’t want the union made public until all of the details were in place. It buys us time to continue the quest.”

  But what came after the quest was over?

  The carriage traveled over cobblestones, jostling her against the cushioned wall.

  She pressed her nose to the window. “We’re close to Berwick Street. The house I grew up in is Number Seven. I haven’t been back yet. I didn’t want to see it. But now I want to, just for a moment.”

  Drew rapped on the carriage ceiling and the wheels slowed.

  It was a fine evening, crisp and cool. The air didn’t smell as clean as it did by the ocean, but the coal smoke wasn’t overpowering because of the brisk breeze.

  They walked along the street, the gas lighting casting pools of golden light. There was no one out. Everything was silent, as if the world was holding its breath.

  He took her hand because he had to touch her.

  “This one,” she said.

  A town house like any of the others on the street. Stone, wood, bricks, and glass.

  “This is where I grew up. My parents left me here when they traveled, which was most of the year. They were always traveling on the Continent. Once they even visited America.”

  “What were their names?” he asked.

  “George and Lilly. My mother loved to wear red gowns. I had one of her gowns altered.”

  “The scarlet gown you changed into?”

  “The very one. I believe you said it looked like a rose mated with a bawdy house sofa.”

  “I didn’t know it was your mother’s gown.”

  “No one would. The seamstress made far too many modifications, added too many frills. But the fabric remained the same. A memory from my childhood. She was always laughing, always chattering, she never stood still. In my memory she’s just this swirl of red, like a brushstroke on a canvas eternally caught in motion.”

  That’s how he felt about Mina. That she was this swirling force that touched everything around her with renewed life. “And you wanted to be just like her when you grew up.”

  “Of course I did. During their infrequent sojourns in London they held the most decadent and notorious at-homes with all of the dissipated artists, writers, wits, and adventurers. I used to sneak out of my bed and watch from the upstairs balcony. I saw Lord Byron drinking wine and reciting poetry.”

  “I can tell you from personal experience that Byron was a donkey’s arse.”

  “And yet you quoted his poetry to me.”

  “I had suffered a blow to the head.”

  “You must admit that his words hold power. The power to move our hearts.”

  She had the power to move his heart. And that scared him. It was impossible to be in her presence and remain impassive. “I’ll admit it,” he said. “But you have to admit that his private life was a disaster. Much like Rafe’s life is now.”

  He couldn’t resist pointing out the similarities. It still galled him that she’d ever considered his brother as a marriage prospect.

  “Before she left with my father on their final tour of the Continent, my mother gave me a gift
that I’ve only recently begun to understand.”

  “A family heirloom?” he asked.

  “Five words. It was the day my parents left. I was sullen all morning, plaguing my governess and refusing to do any lessons. My mother entered the schoolroom. I ran to her, threw my arms around her waist, and begged her to take me with them.”

  “You were ten years old?”

  “Yes, too young to go with them but I didn’t understand that. It was almost as if my mother had a premonition that she would never see me again. She dismissed my governess. I made a fuss and she let me cry and she didn’t try to quiet me. She let me cry myself out and then she smoothed my hair back from my face, and she looked me in the eyes and said, ‘Don’t be a good girl.’ That’s it. That’s what she said. And then she left and I never saw her again.”

  “What an odd piece of advice for a mother to give her daughter.”

  “I’ve asked myself so many times what she meant by that. Had I misheard? Had she actually said, “Be a good girl,” which would of course be what most people would have said, but I’m sure that’s what she said. And I think she was giving me her philosophy of life. Good girls are supposed to be rewarded—the good girls who know their place, the girls who don’t make a fuss, the girls who stay inside. She was telling me to break the rules, to not care what people thought of me.”

  “Not an easy or popular philosophy.”

  “Especially with my guardian. He always promised me that I could go to London when I turned sixteen. Then it was seventeen. Then eighteen. I made a vow when I was stuck in the countryside facing the prospect of a dreary spinster life as my uncle’s secretary, that if I were ever allowed to have a Season I would make it count. I would taste all the fruits of town, be they sinful or saintly.”

  “You’re here now.”

  “I don’t know what changed his mind. He went to Paris and the Duke of Ravenwood was there, and Uncle Malcolm came back changed. He told me I could have a Season. But when I arrived in London, my great-aunt pronounced me unfit for polite society, and she embarked on a series of etiquette lessons.”

  “The ball where I met you was your first appearance.”