My Favorite Duke (The Duke Hunters Club Book 2)

by Bianca Blythe

  “Perhaps not,” Juliet said.

  Horatius shrugged. “In the future, I will have you know that when I am working here, I am not to be disturbed. I work very often. I trust that is fine.”

  She nodded.

  “Good, good. A woman with a modicum of intelligence should be able to occupy herself. I believed you to have a modicum.”

  “Er—yes, I believe so,” Juliet said.

  He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her. “So you’re sure this can’t wait until later.”

  “No,” Juliet said reluctantly, even though now she was keen not to speak about even the weather with him, much less a delicate subject.

  “Well then?” He moved his hand impatiently, as if he believed she were a lever he might pull.

  Juliet swallowed hard. “You should know before you marry me that I’m not in love with you.”

  His face was placid. “That’s what you wanted to inform me of?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.” Her voice squeaked; most of her breath had already left her throat.

  “What for?” His face remained calm.

  “Because we’re supposed to marry,” she said, stunned.

  He chuckled. “My dear, we’re getting married, not performing in one of those vile plays on the South Bank. I hardly supposed we were in love.”

  “No?”

  “What is love, after all?”

  Juliet gave a tight smile. She knew what love meant. She knew how love made her heart soar at the mere thought of Lucas. She knew how his comments and insights made her heart quicken, and she knew how his words made her laugh like no other. And she knew the tenderness she felt toward him.

  That was love.

  She loved Lucas.

  “I’m in love with someone else,” she said hurriedly.

  He frowned. “That was unnecessary to say. Most unnecessary.”

  “It’s true.”

  “One does not say everything that is true. A lady knows that. Even children know not to speak unless spoken to, and you interrupted my work to tell me such things. It’s the Duke of Ainsworth, isn’t it?”

  She nodded miserably.

  “Appalling fellow. Wandering about my estate like that.”

  “He was accompanying me.”

  “It’s not the first time that I’ve seen him about my estate. Says he’s researching flowers or some other such nonsense.”

  “It’s not nonsense,” she said.

  Horatius snorted. “Well, well. I do wish you hadn’t told me that.”

  “I had to. We’re getting married.”

  “I’m glad you haven’t forgotten that.”

  Juliet stiffened, even though Horatius had always been the person forgetting every social occasion in which they were supposed to meet.

  “I understand if you don’t want to marry me,” Juliet said stoically.

  “Well, of course, I don’t want to marry you,” Horatius said. “But that’s rather not the point. We are betrothed, and I haven’t time for a broken engagement.”

  Juliet wasn’t certain why the Duke of Sherwood didn’t have time for anything. After all, he hadn’t had time for anything that involved her. He might be technically a member of parliament, but he hadn’t attended parliament during the season. This was an estate, but it hardly had vast farmlands that he needed to personally manage: the hilly terrain wouldn’t permit that.

  “What do you occupy yourself with?” she asked.

  Horatius’s face grew purple. “That is none of your concern.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Good.” The duke nodded curtly. “Now, please. I am a busy man. But I assure you, I will not let you marry Ainsworth.”

  “The choice is mine.”

  With that, Juliet left the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “JULIET?” LUCAS ASKED.

  The figure couldn’t be her. He knew that. He had imagined her, evidently. No doubt after he’d spent so long pondering her auburn locks, her upturned nose, and her willowy figure, it was easy to imagine he was seeing it. His heart, clearly, wanted to compete with his eyes for prevalence.

  Personally, Lucas thought it odd he’d imagined Juliet dripping water on the velvet brocaded curtains that hung in his library.

  But there could be no mistake: that was her.

  In my imagination.

  “Lucas?” the apparition asked, the voice setting his nerves on fire.

  “Juliet?” he asked tentatively.

  “Oh, dearest.” The non-apparition proceeded rapidly toward him. The non-apparition resembled Juliet exactly, but the non-apparition was speaking such amazing words, he couldn’t believe it was her.

  He’d said goodbye to Juliet, and he’d been warned away.

  Yet, here, in a dripping morning gown, was Juliet.

  His love.

  “Lucas?”

  Lucas rose. That was definitely his name. He stepped toward her.

  No doubt, she just wanted to give him a lost cuff link or something. Or perhaps she wanted to thank him again and speak vaguely about future friendship and invitations to crowded balls where they might nod to each other over a punch table.

  It didn’t matter. She was here, and his heart soared, as if some eagle had taken hold of it.

  “Where’s Sherwood?” he glanced over her shoulder.

  “He’s not here,” she said softly.

  “Ah.” He nodded. “Well that’s good.”

  She studied him. “Indeed?”

  “Er—yes. More independence. Good thing.”

  “I’m not going to marry him, Lucas.”

  Lucas’s eyes darted up.

  “And I know that doesn’t necessarily mean anything to you. But I thought you should know.” Juliet wasn’t prone to stammering, but now she did so. “And maybe it doesn’t matter to you—”

  “It matters,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “Oh?” Her lovely dark lashes flickered up.

  He nodded. “It matters absolutely.” He glanced again at the door, but no one was outside. He took her hands in his. They were icy, but his heart swelled and warmed. “I didn’t want you to marry him. Because—”

  “Yes?” Her voice was higher-pitched than normal, and a pink glow spread over her luscious cheeks.

  “Because I love you.” Lucas squeezed her hands.

  A smile spread over Juliet’s face. A delightful smile. A smile so joyful he thought she must, absolutely must, love him too.

  The thought caused his heart to lurch happily.

  “I love you,” Lucas repeated. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

  Her smile brightened even further. Her eyes sparkled, and she raised her chin and gazed fully at him. “I love you too.”

  He pulled her into his arms, his heart bursting as she gave a joyful laugh. And then he kissed her. His lips found hers, indulging in the taste, the feel of hers. His lips danced, and her lips matched every step. The kiss grew longer, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

  He loved her. So much. And for some mad, absolutely incredible reason, she was here. Her pleasant scent wafted over him. He’d thought the wildflowers were outside. But here was one right in his arms: the best one of all.

  He kissed her, placing his arms about her tiny waist, conscious of the curve of her bottom and of the sensation of her breasts pushed against his chest.

  HEAVEN.

  She was in heaven.

  She hadn’t thought heaven was in a tiny cottage on a rainy day, not when she was wearing a mud-stained dress, not when her lifelong dream had just been shattered.

  But she was absolutely, utterly in heaven.

  To think she’d once despised this man. To think she’d once done anything but utter the loveliest words to him. To think when she’d first met him, she hadn’t leaped promptly into his arms and embraced him.

  There was no odd, stilted formality. No reserved carefulness. No proper pecks.

  She was being kissed.

  A
nd she adored it.

  Reluctantly she pulled away, placing her arms against his chest. The kiss ended, and Lucas stared at her, his gaze dazed, and his shirt tousled.

  “We need to speak about Sherwood.”

  “Right.” He withdrew his arms through her. “Shall we also talk about spiders and slugs and storms?”

  “You think he’s horrible.”

  He nodded gravely, then uncertainty seemed to fall onto his face. She realized she’d wounded him earlier, and her chest hurt.

  “I think he’s horrible too,” she said, and he nodded.

  “And I—” she continued, pausing to consider what to say next. Some sentences she was not accustomed to forming.

  “You?”

  “I think he might be involved in the ghastly affair.”

  He frowned. “You do?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I do.”

  The words didn’t seem to cause him immediate joy. “What makes you think that?”

  “I found some papers.”

  He was silent.

  “But that’s not why I’m not marrying him,” she said hastily.

  His face relaxed, but he twitched his lips.

  “Not that I would otherwise marry criminals,” she said, and he laughed.

  “I told him I didn’t love him.”

  “Oh?”

  She nodded, feeling her cheeks warm again.

  He smiled and stroked them tenderly, and her heart danced, as if they were on the finest ballroom in the world, as if she were in her finest Parisian gown, as if the best musicians in all the land were playing.

  “But then I found these.” She stepped back and removed the papers. “I—er—thought it was perhaps best not to talk to him at that point.”

  He grasped the stack of papers and looked through them.

  “I might be wrong but—”

  He glanced up at her, his gaze startled. “This is the proof we needed.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re amazing.” He flicked through the pages more. “Absolutely amazing.”

  Finally, he put the papers on his desk. “I’ll need to show these to Sebastian.”

  She furrowed her brow, then he marched to the hallway. “Stanley? Is my friend here?”

  “The duke? I believe he is visiting the magistrate’s wife. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Great Olympus,” Lucas said. “Sherwood must have framed the magistrate.”

  She widened her eyes.

  “You’re going to go back to your parents. If the duke finds out you took this...”

  “I told them I was going to spend the next few days with my cousin.”

  He nodded. “I don’t like you being close to Sherwood.”

  “And you’ll—”

  “I’ll show these to Sebastian tomorrow. First, I’m going to put the papers in the safe. And then we’ll decide what happens next.” He gazed up at her. “We won’t allow Sherwood to continue like this.”

  Lucas opened the door, then quickly returned. “Sherwood’s men are outside.”

  She blinked.

  “Let me show you the back of the cottage.” Lucas grabbed her hand and led her through the house. They passed a butler who gave them a shocked expression. “It’s fine, Stanley. We’re getting married.”

  Married?

  Something must have changed in her expression, for Lucas grinned. “Did I not tell you that, dearest? We’re absolutely getting married.”

  “Oh.”

  He turned to her. “Do you like that?”

  “Yes.” She nodded hastily. “Oh, yes!”

  He grinned. “Fantastic. Then it’s settled. You’re to be my new duchess.”

  She giggled, and she felt his fingers squeeze her hand. A footman passed.

  “This is my betrothed,” Lucas said gaily.

  “Very good, Your Grace,” the footman said.

  Juliet and Lucas giggled. Joy moved through her as they hurried over the wooden floorboards and ducked underneath the occasional supporting timber piece.

  Soon, they came to the end of the cottage. Lucas opened a door, and they stepped outside. Her feet sank into mud, and Lucas gave her an apologetic look.

  “A bit slippery, I’m afraid.”

  She smiled. “That’s fine.”

  The rain continued to dot down upon her, then strong arms swept about her. In the next moment, Lucas gathered her in his arms, nestling her to his chest. One arm supported her back, and the other arm supported her legs.

  Mountains spread up before them, lit by the setting sun. The world glowed, and even the raindrops had halted their long fall.

  She turned to her head to Lucas. Her betrothed. Her future husband and partner for all eternity. His eyes sparkled happily.

  This was where she belonged. Right here.

  In this man’s strong, sturdy arms.

  He strode down the hill toward the lake.

  “Sebastian likes to swim here.”

  “The water is cold.”

  “He doesn’t mind.” Lucas frowned. “Actually, he minds a good deal, but it doesn’t stop him. It’s worth it.”

  Juliet considered this. She’d made absolutely the right choice too. It had been worth it.

  Love.

  Lucas helped her into the boat, guiding her with his strong hand. The boat wobbled as she entered, but he didn’t flinch. But once she was settled inside, he leaped inside, grabbed the oars, and moved so hastily she realized he was completely aware of the importance of leaving.

  He moved the oars powerfully through the water. Water streamed equally in each direction, as if he were demonstrating ideal rowing technique. They soon moved from the shore toward the center of the lake.

  “Stop! Stop!” Horatius’s burly servant yelled at them, but Lucas only laughed. “He won’t find another boat. We’re well away from him.”

  “There will be a scandal,” Juliet said.

  Lucas’s face grew more serious. “Do you mind?”

  She shook her head.

  She didn’t mind.

  Not if it meant she could be with Lucas permanently.

  She shrugged. “I can handle a bit of scandal.”

  “Even one involving a broken engagement?”

  She nodded.

  Everything that had seemed important before lacked significance. Her place was with Lucas.

  Juliet would not make that mistake again.

  The rain splashed large drops into the water, and spray landed on Juliet’s attire and hair. Lucas sent her a concerned look.

  “This isn’t the most elegant method of transport.”

  Her eyes widened, then she realized he was referring to the lack of a roof.

  “I’m simply happy I found you,” she said.

  He beamed. Lightning flashed in the sky with the same brilliance as Chinese gunpowder.

  The light fell, and stars filled the sky. They glimmered with the intensity of any diamonds, and Juliet had seen many when she’d visited balls and the homes of wealthy women of the ton. Diamonds were only faint replications of a single star, and hundreds, thousands shimmered now.

  This was her life with Lucas. She snuggled against Lucas’s arm.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  Juliet frowned. “I suppose so. But I hadn’t thought of it.”

  She was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was alone with Lucas. Lucas seemed to be aware of that as well, for he stroked her back. She leaned against him, enjoying the warm sensation his skin brought. He glanced in her direction, and then her heart stopped as he moved his head toward her.

  A kiss was coming.

  Her heart sang, and in the next moment, everything was wonderful. Lucas’s tongue played with her mouth, and she quickly followed him.

  He feathered kisses along her face, then he groaned. The sound was so husky, so animal-like, that her heart leaped at the thought he could lose himself so fully in her presence.

  Nothing seemed to make as much sense as to have his arms about
hers, to inhale the cotton and cedar fragrance that wafted about him, and to lean against his firm frame.

  His body fit against hers perfectly, as if each curve of hers fit perfectly against every angle of hers.

  His lips continued to dance with hers. How could a man who hung around at the corner of dance floors, who never leaped into a reel, be so good at this?

  And yet he was.

  That fact was absolutely unmistakeable.

  It was one of the truths in the world: something similar to how the sun would always bounce about in the heavens even after a long night, even after a rainstorm, even after the sky would fill with angry clouds that sailed along the heavens with a ferocity not seen since the Spanish Armada threatened British shores.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  At some point, the sky turned dark, and thousands of stars replaced the sun. Juliet stared at the sky. It should be uncomfortable to lie in a rowboat, but it was oddly pleasant simply to stare at the sky.

  She felt Lucas beside her. She felt his arms, his legs touching hers. Energy pooled at her core. His very presence seemed exciting. She wanted to curl against his chest, and she wanted to wrap her legs about his. She wanted everything.

  “No one is around us,” Lucas said, his voice husky.

  “No.”

  He moved his hand nearer her, and something caught in her heart. He put his arm around her neck, and she was conscious of both his hand’s large size as well as an instant familiarity with it. It felt correct for Lucas’s hands to be about her. It felt right to feel the sudden warmth as his hand touched the bare skin of her neck. And even when he touched the sleeve of her dress, and she shouldn’t feel any warmth emanating from his hand at all, fire shot through her arm.

  All her nerve endings seemed to reach up to touch him, and when his arm was firmly settled around her, butterflies still fluttered in her body, obstructing her ability to breathe easily.

  It didn’t matter.

  Nothing mattered except the feel of him around her. Nothing mattered except the sound of his breath beside her, mingling with the gentle waves about the rowboat, and nothing mattered except the slight stroke of his hand against her arm.

  He’s here.

  He will always be here.

  She wasn’t going to marry Horatius, she was going to marry Lucas, and that was a very wonderful thing.