Never Have I Ever With a Duke

by Burke, Darcy

  “I have not.”

  Perhaps he should. It could be a source of income. Arabella inwardly winced, hating that she saw everything in terms of bettering one’s financial state. However, she knew he needed it as much as she did. She suddenly wondered if Lady Clifton was wealthy. Arabella’s stomach sank.

  “Did your great-great-grandfather design anything else? He seems so talented that he ought to have been known, and yet I’ve never heard of him.” Lady Clifton dipped her chin. “Granted, I am not an architectural expert.”

  “He designed the gardens at Huntwell in Huntingdonshire. He went there to become the secretary.”

  “And your family has served as secretary there ever since,” Phoebe said. “Until recently. I wonder what your ancestor would say to see you here now as the duke in the garden he designed and the house he built.”

  Arabella felt the rise of pride and passion in Graham beside her as much as she saw his chest inflate and his shoulders square.

  “He would be quite pleased, I think.”

  “Did he design the maze too?” Jane asked, looking toward the large, intertwined rows and alleys of hedges.

  “That was his favorite aspect,” Graham said, smiling. “He created it for his children. It is specifically designed for a challenging game of hide-and-seek. There are all sorts of nooks and crannies that are perfect for hiding oneself.”

  “How splendid!” Lady Clifton exclaimed.

  “I don’t know,” Phoebe said skeptically. “Wouldn’t it be easy to become lost?”

  Graham cocked his head to the side. “Yes, but if you put your hand—right or left, it doesn’t matter—on the shrubbery and keep it there as you walk, you will eventually find your way out.”

  “We should play,” Lady Clifton said.

  Jane nodded in agreement. “Oh yes, I think we should.”

  Graham lifted a shoulder, then looked from Phoebe to Arabella’s mother to Arabella, his gaze settling warmly on her. “What say you?”

  If there was any way Arabella could get lost in a maze with Graham for even a few minutes, she would take it. “Yes, please,” she said, looking him square in the eye as a tremor of anticipation tripped through her.

  “All right, I’ll give it a go,” Phoebe said with a hint of reluctance. “Since you explained how I can find my way out. However, if I can’t get out, I will scream at the top of my lungs, and you will be forced to rescue me.”

  He chuckled. “I would be happy to.” He looked back at Arabella’s mother. “Mrs. Stoke?”

  She shook her head. “I will leave this to you younger people.” She gave Arabella an encouraging smile. Clearly, she hoped Arabella would turn this to her advantage somehow. Oh, if she only knew how wrong this all was, and how there was absolutely no hope for her and Graham.

  They all stood, save Arabella’s mother, and made their way to the opening of the maze, which was not visible from where they’d picnicked.

  “Wait, who’s doing the searching?” Jane asked.

  “His Grace, obviously,” Phoebe said. “Not only because he’ll have to play rescuer if need be, but he’s the only man.”

  “Yes, it must be him,” Lady Clifton agreed. “How much time do we have to hide?”

  “I’ll give you five minutes, and then I’ll call out.” He pulled his pocket watch out and glanced down at the face.

  Everyone stood there for a moment before Jane said, “Let’s go!” She led the way into the maze, with Lady Clifton behind her and Phoebe trailing. Arabella purposely went last.

  She looked back to Graham, who mouthed, Go to the left.

  Anticipation curled through her again as she entered the maze. She passed a right turn and another right turn and another one. Was there a left?

  He’d said there were nooks and crannies. Perhaps she’d missed something. She backtracked, this time looking to the right, and finally saw it, a narrow opening. Graham called out that he was coming to find them.

  Sliding between the hedges, she slipped into a small space, glad to find it empty. After situating herself to wait, she heard the gentle crunch of pebbles followed by the press of leaves as Graham inserted himself into the nook. It was just large enough for them to stand and barely touch.

  “Oh good, you found it,” he whispered.

  She put her hand on his chest and felt his heart beating sure and strong beneath her palm. “You’ve clearly spent time in this maze.”

  “I’ve been rather obsessed with it since moving here. I would have loved this as a child.”

  She heard regret in his voice. “You’re angry this was denied you.”

  “I didn’t have to live here, but to be welcomed and embraced by family is all my father ever wanted.”

  “Family is so important.” It was why she would do anything to save her parents, including forfeit her own happiness. She didn’t want to think about that right now. Not when happiness—however fleeting—was standing right in front of her.

  “We don’t have much time,” he said.

  “Then you better kiss me.” She’d intended to ask him about Lady Clifton, but she didn’t want to waste their time together. Maybe the widow was his future, but Arabella was his present, and he was hers.

  His mouth came down over hers as she curled her arms around his neck. He swept her up against him, bringing their bodies flush. She longed to wrap her legs about his waist as she’d done in the park. Instead, she stood on her toes and pushed her pelvis against his, feeling the delicious length of his shaft even through their layers of clothes.

  He caressed her breast through her gown as his tongue explored her mouth. He put his other hand on her backside, encouraging her movements against him. Desire roiled through her, arousing her to a fevered state.

  This was not conducive to coupling, but there were other things they could do… If not for the time.

  He kissed along her cheek and down her neck, suckling lightly at her flesh. “I would take you here if I could.”

  She dug her fingers into the hair at his nape and gloried in this moment, in his touch, in their mutual longing. Oh, how she wished things were different!

  They parted, their breath coming fast as he clasped her waist and she put her hands high on his chest.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “I think the time is up.”

  Yes, their time was up. Graham would either recover their money, or they’d be forced to marry—and not each other. As if that had ever been anything more than a dream. For a brief moment, she wondered what would happen if he managed to get the money from Tibbord. And in that moment, she realized she never really expected that to come to pass.

  He seemed to read her thoughts, for he said, “I’m going to get your father’s money. You’re going to be free to be a true member of the Spitfire Society.”

  She smiled up at him. “I know you’ll do your best.” She leaned up and kissed him quickly. “Go. I’m going to sit with my mother.”

  He nodded, then kissed her once more before turning and slipping out of the nook. The air turned cold, and Arabella wrapped her arms around herself. They couldn’t continue like this. He needed to marry Lady Clifton or someone else. She needed to marry Sir Ethelbert or someone else.

  Arabella left the maze and returned to her mother, who frowned slightly upon seeing her. “I was hoping you would be the last one out.”

  “Why?” Arabella sat beside her on the blanket.

  “So that you could spend some time with His Grace, of course.”

  Arabella was glad her mother couldn’t tell how fast her heart was still beating or detect the glow she felt lingering about her after being in his arms. “Mama, you mustn’t get your hopes up about a match with the duke.”

  “I’ll get my hopes up however I like,” she said primly. But then her gaze darkened. “Though I must say, I was disappointed to see Lady Clifton arrive. Surely he’d rather choose a young lady who has never been married and who doesn’t already have children.”

  “Then why shoul
dn’t he look toward Phoebe or Jane?”

  “They don’t signify, dear. They’ve quite consigned themselves to the shelf with their Spitfire Society.”

  Before Arabella could defend their choice—and their independence—Jane came from the maze laughing.

  “Oh my,” she said, catching her breath as she joined them. “I startled His Grace quite marvelously.”

  Phoebe came out a moment later, but it was several minutes before Graham emerged with Lady Clifton on his arm. She nestled against his side quite closely and laughed gaily as they made their way to the blanket. Arabella shoved away the sharp stab of jealousy that she had no right to feel.

  A short while later, the ladies took their leave, each of them thanking Graham for the lovely afternoon. None, however, was more effusive than Arabella’s mother.

  “Your Grace, we are simply thrilled you took us up on our suggestion to visit—when you recently called on Arabella.” She said all this so that everyone, especially Lady Clifton, could hear.

  “I’m so pleased you could come,” Graham said evenly. He gave her a charming bow before turning to Arabella. His gaze brushed over her like a flame, and Arabella would have given anything to return to the maze with him.

  Then his attention moved to Lady Clifton, who smiled prettily. She dipped a curtsey. “Thank you, Duke, for including me in this brilliant excursion. I especially enjoyed the maze.” She tipped her head coyly, prompting Arabella to wonder why she’d enjoyed it especially. Had Graham kissed her too?

  Of course not!

  Her head told her he would never be so callous. However, her head also knew that Graham had to find an heiress, and if Lady Clifton possessed a fortune, she was precisely what he needed. Her heart, on the other hand, told her she should stake her claim on Graham and never let him go.

  But she couldn’t. She had to accept that she—and Graham—needed to move on.

  How was she supposed to do that when she was falling in love with him?

  * * *

  Graham paced the library at Brixton Hall as he awaited Tibbord’s arrival. The man had sent word late yesterday asking to meet this afternoon. The end was nigh—he’d solve his money woes and Arabella’s and then—

  And then what?

  Then she would embrace her future as a member of the Spitfire Society, and Graham would set to work refurbishing Halstead Manor and focusing on his new role as duke. A small voice at the back of his mind wondered if their affair could possibly continue. Or maybe even lead to something else. Would she want that? She certainly hadn’t given him the impression she did. History—her history—said that intimacy between them did not need to result in marriage.

  Hedge’s voice carried into the library just before he came to the door. “His Grace is just in here.” Exactly as they’d planned—Hedge would show Tibbord directly to the library and speak loudly enough that Graham could hear them approach.

  Graham inhaled deeply and straightened his coat as Tibbord moved past the butler into the library. He was short and stocky with a thick neck. He handed his hat to Hedge, revealing a head of thick, dark hair. His eyes were light—gray perhaps—and quickly scanned the room before settling on Graham. It was an odd perusal, as if he were searching for exits.

  “Welcome to Brixton Park,” Graham said.

  Tibbord bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.” He moved forward, and Graham extended his hand in greeting. Tibbord shook it and offered a bland smile. “I’m pleased to have been invited to return. You’ve a new butler, I see.” He flicked a glance toward Hedge.

  “Yes. Several of Brixton Park’s retainers left after the prior duke died. How kind of you to recall them. Did you visit here often?”

  “A few times,” Tibbord said smoothly as he sauntered to the window looking out toward the maze. “I never had a chance to visit the gardens, however. The maze always intrigued me.”

  “It’s rather amusing.” Graham longed to lure Tibbord into the center and leave him there overnight. Hopefully, he wouldn’t know how to escape. Graham looked toward Hedge and inclined his head. The butler took himself off with Tibbord’s hat.

  Tibbord’s clothing was exceptionally well cut and crafted from fine materials. He seemed to be doing well, but then why shouldn’t he be?

  “Shall we discuss business?” Graham asked.

  Turning from the window, Tibbord exhaled. “I suppose. That is why I’m here.” His lips pulled back in a self-important grin.

  Graham moved toward a seating arrangement near the windows and gestured Tibbord toward the settee, while he sat in a chair.

  Tibbord perched on the settee with a flick of his coattails. “Osborne says you have money to invest. That is excellent to hear, since it seems the prior duke overextended himself.”

  “You must have known the Duke rather well to be privy to such information.”

  “He shared many details about his financial situation. I know he had to pay annuities to countless relatives, and it was an endless drain on his coffers. Brixton Park has also long been mortgaged, and he was forced to increase the debt to support his dependents. I was more than happy to help him try to reverse his fortune.”

  “Except you didn’t.” Graham kept his tone somewhat light. He didn’t want to scare the man off—not yet. Not until he understood precisely what would be required of him. “You took his money and failed to provide a return. Some people would call that theft.”

  Tibbord frowned, his brow forming deep grooves. “I dearly hope you aren’t accusing me of something criminal. There was a return—not as large as I’d hoped—but His Grace insisted I invest it in a risky scheme. I did not recommend it, but he was adamant. Unfortunately, he lost the entire investment.”

  “Is that also what happened with the Stokes and your other clients?” Graham asked with deceptive calm.

  Tibbord showed no sign of concern. Instead, he smiled condescendingly. “I shouldn’t speak of other clients.

  “Then allow me,” Graham said. “All these people simply made poor choices that you facilitated? That seems an unlikely coincidence.”

  At last, Tibbord’s eyes hardened, and his muscles seemed to tense. “I assure you it is. Why are you bringing this up? I begin to wonder if you are truly interested in investing with me.”

  “I am not, actually.” Graham leaned back in his chair and assumed a nonchalant posture while inside, his blood was roiling. “I invited you here to demand the return of the duke’s investment. I believe you stole it, and if you don’t return it, I’ll sue you for fraud and theft.”

  Tibbord’s nostrils flared, but that was the only reaction he betrayed. “That sounds rather expensive.”

  “I’ll also ensure you aren’t welcome in any gaming hell in London. Since that’s where you hunt the desperate, how will you find your marks then?”

  As Tibbord hesitated, Graham wondered if he’d finally broken through the man’s bravado. “Let me save you the trouble. I can’t return the investment because I don’t have it. As I said, it was a risky scheme, and the money was lost.”

  Graham stared at Tibbord with unconcealed malice. “Show me the proof of the investment and how it was lost.”

  Tibbord leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “What is your goal here?”

  “To have my money—and that of the Stokes—returned.”

  Tibbord held up his hands briefly before scooting back onto the settee. “Well, that simply won’t happen. The money is gone. Furthermore, His Grace didn’t care. He suspected there would be no return, but as he was not long for this world, he said it would be your problem and he didn’t give a fig if you were bankrupted or not.”

  Graham felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. “He told you that?”

  “Yes.” Tibbord looked at him with pity. “You can’t prove the duke ever invested with me. I am very careful. Though not careful enough, apparently, for I should never have met with you today. What a tedious waste.” He stood abruptly.

  Fury coursed through Grah
am, driving him to his feet. “I’m so sorry to bore you. You’re discussing people’s lives. This isn’t about me and whether I can have a new horse or buy another country house. People at Halstead Manor count on me, and that estate needs attention.”

  “Don’t forget all those pesky relatives and their annuities. It sounds as if you’ll need to sell Brixton Park. As it happens, I know of a buyer. I’d be happy to facilitate the sale.”

  Graham glared at him. “I wouldn’t let you facilitate a use of the privy. Forget about me.” How it grated to say that! “You must return the Stokes’ money. You preyed on them and have made Mr. Stoke quite ill, leaving his wife and daughter vulnerable.”

  Tibbord snorted. “Stoke is an idiot who doesn’t know when to quit. He wagered himself into a corner, racking up losses he couldn’t hope to regain. He deserves whatever he gets.”

  Graham fought not to hit the man. How could he be so heartless? “And so do his wife and daughter?”

  Tibbord shrugged. “They are not my problem, and neither are you. You’ve wasted both of our times today.”

  Graham advanced on the man, baring his teeth. “I am a bloody duke. You can’t steal from me and walk away.”

  A shadow of fear crept into Tibbord’s gaze. “Are you threatening me?”

  “I should call you out. In fact, I will if you mention any of this to anyone—no one is to know about the Stokes’ financial state. Or mine.”

  Tibbord narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have any money to invest at all, do you?”

  Graham clenched his jaw but didn’t say a word. “I ought to squeeze you until you bleed the money you stole.”

  A bit of color leached from Tibbord’s face. “You could try, but there would be nothing.”

  “Where did it go?” Graham gritted the question out through his teeth.

  Tibbord shrugged again. “I like to spend.”

  Unable to control his anger a moment longer, Graham lunged for him, grabbing Tibbord by his lapel. “You’re a blackguard. I’m getting the money you owe us.”