A Deal with a Duke (The Daring Drake Sisters, #2)

by Christie Kelley

  “I apologize, Jenkins. I am still new to this world.” There was an undercurrent of humor to his voice.

  “Of course, sir.” Jenkins closed the door behind them. “Breakfast will be up in a moment.”

  Harry and Simon walked to the morning room and waited as the footmen carried trays of eggs, herring, ham, toast, pastries, tea, and coffee. Once all the food arrived, he dismissed the footmen.

  Simon sipped his coffee and then grimaced. “I will send over a blend of my coffee. This is dreadful stuff.”

  They ate in silence for a few moments, but Harry knew the quiet wouldn’t last. He adjusted his posture slightly. An ache at his midsection reminded him that he would likely feel quite sore tomorrow.

  “All right, then,” Simon started as he placed his coffee cup back on the table. “What happened last night?”

  “Nothing happened.” Except he kissed Louisa. Which turned out to be more amazing than his imagination could have envisioned.

  Simon laughed. “Harry, while I haven’t known you for long, I do know evasion when I see it.”

  “I danced with Louisa,” he admitted slowly.

  “And is there an issue with dancing with a friend?”

  “No, in fact, we were both a little surprised by the thought that we had never danced together. What bothered me was watching her dance with the other gentlemen. It shouldn’t have annoyed me, but it did. I’m supposed to find her a husband.”

  Simon jerked his head toward Harry. “I beg your pardon? I don’t believe I heard that last bit right. I thought you said you were supposed to find Miss Drake a husband.”

  Harry nodded. “We agreed upon it when she visited me over Christmas.”

  “She visited you...with her mother?”

  “No.” Harry stared down at his plate. “She came alone. That is how Charlotte came to know her.”

  Simon covered his mouth as if trying to hide a smile. “Just so I understand, Miss Drake paid a visit to you over Christmas, alone. She did this to ask you to find her a husband. While there, she met Charlotte, who seems completely taken with her. And you agreed to find her a husband.”

  “Yes, that sums it up.”

  “The woman you love wants a husband, but not you?”

  Harry glanced over at his brother. “I do not love her.”

  Liar. Damned conscience.

  “I see,” Simon commented. “And she doesn’t love you?”

  “No. We are strictly friends. Nothing more than that.”

  Simon shrugged as he ate a bite of eggs. “Very well. You don’t love her. She doesn’t love you. Then seeing her dance with other men shouldn’t be a bother, now should it?”

  “You are a very annoying younger brother.”

  “Thank you,” Simon replied with a smirk. “I believe you have a decision to make, brother dear. Either marry the girl yourself or find her a husband and spend the rest of your life watching her from afar. Because no matter how much you deny it, the fact is, you are in love with her.”

  “It matters not,” Harry admitted slowly. “She does not want to marry me.”

  “You’re a duke. What girl wouldn’t wish to marry you?”

  “Louisa Drake.”

  Simon frowned as he scraped his chair back. “I hate to run, but I have a meeting at noon. Harry, are you certain she doesn’t want to marry you?”

  “Oh, she has made that obvious many times.”

  “I am sorry then.”

  No, it was for the best that she didn’t want to marry him, but he didn’t tell Simon that bit. As his brother left, Harry finished his coffee. Jenkins bought in a post that had just arrived. Harry ran his finger over the neat script of his name, wondering why Louisa would write to him.

  He read the note, crumpled it up and hurled the offending missive into the fireplace. Louisa had the nerve to thank him for introducing her to Collingwood and told him how much she’d enjoyed dancing with Collingwood last night. Not one mention of their kiss. As if it never happened.

  As it shouldn’t have happened.

  At least one of them had good sense. Harry walked to his study to send a quick reply thanking Louisa for the introduction to Miss Bigby, and while a sweet, young lady, she was not the type he was looking for in a duchess. And that he hoped Louisa would have someone to introduce him to at the Marchtons’ ball tomorrow night.

  LOUISA WALKED TO THE salon after sending off a note to Harry. Emma had read the letter before Louisa sent it and agreed the tone should make him particularly jealous. A part of Louisa wished she didn’t have to play these games with him. There had to be a way to make him realize what he wanted was right in front of him.

  Maybe it was her fault for not seeing him in this manner years ago. If she had, he’d never have gone to India. Never would have fallen in love with Sabita.

  Never had Charlotte.

  What a dreadful thought! He needed that little girl, and she needed him. Louisa had never been one to believe in fate and love, until lately. But perhaps it was fate that sent him to India so that he could have Charlotte. Fate that made her not realize until now how perfect Harry was for her.

  Fate? Predestination was a ludicrous thought only for the romantics of the world.

  Louisa set her shoulders, no more thinking about what might have been. He was here now and unmarried. And she had every intention of making the most of the situation.

  As she strolled into the salon, she found her mother reading a letter with a deep scowl lining her face. “Is everything well, Mamma?”

  “No, it is not.”

  “Oh?” She sat down across from her mother close to the fire. “What is wrong?”

  “I have received a letter from Lady Huntley. She and Lady Gringham noticed you returning from the terrace last evening followed by Worthington only a minute later. Lady Gringham mentioned to Lady Huntley how you were at Northwood Park when she arrived. And that she never met your companion.”

  Her mother crumpled the note and stared at Louisa. “How could you be so foolish? And why did you not mention the most important fact that the Gringhams were at Northwood Park?”

  Louisa closed her eyes for a long moment. “Mamma, the duke and I are strictly friends. He noticed me leave the ball and feared for my safety. We spoke for a few moments and then returned to the ball.”

  “When will you remember, it only matters what people imagine might have happened?” Mamma dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “What will Lord Bolton do when he hears this awful news?”

  Louisa doubted Lord Bolton would do anything. But Lady Bolton would need to be appeased. The Boltons were an ancient family, tracing their roots back to the conquest. Lady Bolton had been the daughter of an earl of a similar lineage.

  “Mamma, send a note back to Lady Huntley and explain that His Grace thought I looked ill and came outside to ascertain that I was well. And let it be known that my companion was ill with a fever when we stopped at Northwood Park, which is why Lady Gringham never met her.”

  “Oh Louisa, you make this seem so easy.” Her mother twisted her handkerchief in her hands. “But you know how gossip takes on a life of its own. I fear this may bring shame down upon us.”

  More shame than a dead father being released from prison? She would never forgive her mother for that lie. Nor would she forgive him for stealing money from the bank he worked at in Cornwall merely to give Tessa a Season.

  “Only if we let it.” Louisa sighed as she stared at the fireplace.

  “Mrs. Drake, Lady Bolton is here,” a footman announced.

  Her mother’s eyes widened. “Oh dear, send her in. Louisa, you should leave.”

  “It might help if I stayed,” Louisa commented. “After all, I was the reason for the gossip and should have the ability to defend myself.”

  “Well said, Miss Drake.” A large woman dressed in black bombazine entered the room with a huff. Her graying hair was up in elaborate curls that would better suit a woman of much younger years. “Mrs. Drake, I do believe your dau
ghter should explain her case to me.”

  “Lady Bolton,” Louisa said with a curtsy. “Welcome to our home.”

  Her mother blathered on welcoming Lady Bolton and then ordering tea. Lady Bolton eased her large frame into the chair Louisa’s mother had vacated. The poor chair protested with a loud creak as the viscountess sat. “Dreadful day outside. At least you have a warm fire for me.”

  After ordering the tea, her mother returned to the room and sat on the sofa away from them both as if an outsider in her salon. “It is lovely to see you again.”

  Lady Bolton turned her lip up. “I believe you already know why I am here. I have made no pretense that my George is marrying beneath himself. It wasn’t bad enough that you had the issue of your eldest daughter’s husbands, but now your second daughter was observed returning from the gardens during Lady Leicester’s ball followed quickly behind by the son of the man who killed your eldest daughter’s husbands. It is preposterous!”

  “My lady,” Louisa started gently. “I have to agree that it is preposterous. Who would believe such an outlandish story? I went out for a breath of air on the terrace because I felt faint. The gracious duke, who by the by, is nothing like his father, noticed I had left and followed me outside to make certain I stayed safe. He has always been quite the gentleman. There was nothing more to the story than that. I fear I may be ruined for attempting not to faint in the middle of a ballroom.”

  Lady Bolton stared at her long and hard. “I am not sure why, but I do believe you, Miss Drake.”

  “It’s the absurdity of the matter, my lady. Who would believe that the duke would be kind to one of the Drakes after all that has happened? But he is the epitome of compassion. The duke was most sympathetic to my companion Mrs. Fitzhugh when she fell ill while traveling. His Grace allowed us to stay with him for three days until she was well enough to travel again. Is he not just the kindest of men?”

  “I see,” Lady Bolton replied before pursing her lips. “I suppose it is far too impossible to believe he had an interest in you.”

  Louisa clenched her jaw to keep from retorting to the bitter lady. “I suppose you are correct, my lady. I am all but a spinster.”

  “Very well, the matter is settled in my mind. Now, where is Miss Emma this morning?” Lady Bolton asked in a cold tone. “She should have greeted her future mother-in-law.”

  “She had a headache this morning and returned to her bed,” Mamma replied quickly before adding, “Would you like me to fetch her?”

  Lady Bolton shook her head. “I shall be gone before she dresses.”

  “Lady Bolton, if I may, have you and your son decided on a date for the wedding?” Mamma asked softly.

  “There is no hurry, Mrs. Drake. I should think you would want them to become better acquainted.”

  “Yes, of course, but Emma is quite eager to become—”

  “A bride,” Louisa interjected before her mother said something to insult the viscountess.

  “Yes, a bride,” Mamma repeated, nodding her head.

  “Before the Season is over, I suppose,” Lady Bolton said with a resigned sigh before standing. “I shall take my leave now.”

  “You don’t wish to stay for tea?” Mamma begged.

  “No, thank you, Mrs. Drake.” She started to walk across the room before stopping and looking back at Louisa. “And please control your daughter’s behavior before she causes a scandal from which you cannot recover.”

  “Of course, ma’am,” Mamma said with a glare to Louisa. “Lord Collingwood danced two sets with her last evening. I am quite certain she will be far more circumspect now.”

  Louisa barely contained her eye roll.

  Once Lady Bolton departed, her mother turned on her. “You are not to see or dance with the duke again. I will not risk your sister’s marriage over your folly with that man. I forbid it.”

  “Forbid it?” Louisa asked incredulously. “I am five and twenty, Mamma. I will see my friend Harry and even dance with him should he ask.”

  Louisa stormed out of the room and decided to check on Emma. As Louisa strode through the hall, a footman closed the door with a post in his hand.

  “Miss, this just came for you.”

  She took the note from his outstretched hand and smiled, seeing the handwriting. “Thank you, John.”

  Racing upstairs to Emma, Louisa wondered what he might have to say this morning. Perhaps her attempts to make him jealous worked.

  “How are you, dear?” Louisa quietly asked as she peeked inside Emma’s darkened room.

  “Much better now. I think the coffee and toast helped.” Emma sat up and looked over at her. “Didn’t you send him the note yet?”

  “This is his reply.”

  “That was quick.”

  “Indeed.” Louisa pushed open the curtains before returning to the bed. “I think that is a very good sign.”

  “Open it already.”

  Louisa broke the seal and scanned the message. Her shoulders sagged as she pressed her lips together and blinked to keep from crying.

  “What is wrong?” Emma asked, reaching out for Louisa’s hand.

  “He was happy to hear that I enjoyed my dances with Collingwood last night. And Harry thanked me for introducing him to Miss Bigby. While she wasn’t what he is looking for, he hopes I will have someone else to introduce him to tomorrow night.”

  “Let me see that.” Emma grabbed the note out of Louisa’s grip.

  “Do you think he might be using the same tactic we are?”

  Emma shook her head slowly. “I honestly do not know.”

  Not even their kiss had affected him the way it had her. She was a fool to think he might feel something for her other than friendship.

  Chapter 13

  MEMORIES OF A SIMILAR night flooded Harry’s mind as he glanced about the ballroom of Lady Marchton’s home. It was seven years ago that he met Louisa at the Marchtons’ ball. But tonight, he couldn’t seem to find her. Picking up a glass of champagne from a passing footman, he walked the room. He shouldn’t look for her. The goal of the night was to gain introductions to several ladies and speak with Blakely.

  The room sparkled from the candlelight catching the cuts on the gems worn by the ladies and creating a kaleidoscope of colors on the walls. Perhaps she wasn’t in attendance tonight. Focus on the other ladies, not Louisa, he told himself sternly. Pausing to scan the room again, he heard the two blondes in front of him speaking softly.

  “But he is a duke,” the taller lady insisted.

  “He is mad,” the petite woman insisted. “His father killed the man’s wife.”

  “And then there is the issue with his daughter.”

  “A heathen for certain.”

  He clenched his fist around the stem of the champagne glass. He couldn’t help but clear his throat loud enough that the two girls glanced back. A sensation akin to pleasure slid over him as they blushed violently and walked away. As he moved through the crush, a lady in front of him whirled around, and he had to catch her elbow to keep her from slamming into him.

  His heart pounded as he stared down into her sapphire eyes. Wearing an ivory gown with lace trim, Louisa looked breathtaking.

  “Your Grace,” Louisa said with a quick curtsy. “I had no idea you were here yet. Not that I can see anyone except those in front of me. I have never seen such a crush.”

  He nodded. “Good evening, Miss Drake.”

  “There is someone I would like to introduce you to if I can find her again,” she said with a quick laugh.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, Miss Turnbull.”

  Harry frowned. “Aren’t the Turnbulls in trade?”

  Louisa sighed. “I will never be able to marry you off.”

  “Marry me off?” Harry sipped his champagne. “You sound like a marriage-minded mama.”

  “I feel like one with a very difficult daughter who is too picky for her own good.” Louisa glanced past him. “Oh, there she is!”

  Harry took i
ssue with being compared to a difficult daughter but turned as Louisa waved to Miss Turnbull. Watching the raven-haired woman gesture in return, a shiver of apprehension snaked down his back. Miss Turnbull had dark hair, and she appeared almost as tall as Louisa.

  “Miss Turnbull, may I introduce His Grace, the Duke of Worthington?”

  Miss Turnbull turned her attention to him, and Harry forced a smile.

  “It is a pleasure, Miss Turnbull.”

  “Yes, it is,” Miss Turnbull purred. “I have admired your fortitude in handling your father’s death, Your Grace. It must be deeply disturbing to discover such dreadful things about your own father.”

  Was he supposed to thank her for that odd compliment? Perhaps the girl was nervous. His title had that effect on some people. Miss Turnbull’s brown eyes shifted back to Louisa as he remained silent. He supposed he should ask her for a dance.

  “Miss Turnbull, I appear to be without a partner for the next set. Would you care to dance?”

  Her smile a little too full, exposing a row of slightly crooked teeth. “I would, Your Grace.”

  “Miss Turnbull, do tell the duke what you were speaking of with me earlier,” Louisa said with a grin. “About the possibility of locomotive uses.”

  Miss Turnbull’s eyes widened in surprise. “I scarcely think the duke would like to hear of such things at a ball, Miss Drake.”

  “You underestimate him,” Louisa said with a glance to him. “He loves to discuss topics of modern machinery and inventions, do you not, Your Grace?”

  “Indeed,” he replied, wondering why Miss Turnbull would prefer to hide her intelligence. “I do believe our dance is about to begin.”

  He held out his arm to her and escorted her to the dance floor. The entire dance, Miss Turnbull kept the conversation on the events of the day and the latest on-dit. Perhaps she didn’t want any of the other dancers to overhear a dialogue on industry and acquire a reputation as a bluestocking.

  As the dance ended, she pointed to where her parents stood, watching them approach.

  “Miss Turnbull, I would love to hear your thoughts on the use of steam engines locomotives.”