“Good evening, gentlemen.” She smiled as she glanced around at them. She turned to the man to her right to introduce herself. Her smile froze on her face as she recognized the green eyes watching her. She nodded a greeting. “Your Grace,” she murmured.
“Ah, good show!” Lord Patterson exclaimed. “You two children have met.”
“Yes,” Wyndham said. “The lady and I spent a most interesting evening together.”
Jessica did not miss the interested glances that were passed about the table at the Duke’s remark. Not wishing to cause more gossip, she remained silent. To her dismay, Wyndham held her chair, not Lord Hoxly who was to her left. Jessica fumed. Why did the Duke have to be here tonight of all nights? One more evening and she would have been gone for several days. He could have come to Madame’s then. Besides that, he was sitting next to her. Fate was not being fair.
As Jessica waited while the cards were being dealt, she noticed there was a considerable pile of money before His Grace. Did he never lose? Well, tonight, she was ready for him. Tonight, she would win.
Play continued for several hours. Except for an occasional witty or charming remark from the other players at the table, the time seemed to drag on forever for Jessica. The pile of money before her became smaller and smaller, while that before the Duke grew. Becoming desperate, Jessica decided to do something she had never done. She decided to cheat. Her father had taught her how to do this when he had taught her to play cards, only because he wanted her to know when other people were doing it. She had become so proficient at it that even her father had been unable to tell when she had dealt from the bottom of the deck. She doubted that the Duke, who was her only target, would be able to catch her.
It was Jessica’s turn to deal. She held her breath as she dealt the cards around the table. The Duke said nothing. He merely picked up the cards before him. Bets were placed, and play went on. Jessica won the hand. The Duke lost.
The turn to deal traveled around the table twice more. Each time she dealt, she won, and the Duke lost. She was convinced he did not realize what she was doing. It was so easy. Perhaps she should have tried this before.
It was her turn to deal again. She picked up the cards, shuffled them. Just as she was about to deal them out, a darkly tanned hand snaked out and grabbed her by the wrist. With wide, frightened eyes, she looked up into twin shards of green ice.
“It would seem that the lady is dealing from the bottom of the deck,” the Duke said. His voice was quiet, menacing.
Jessica blinked, but hid the fear that slithered through her. “What are you accusing me of, Your Grace?” she asked innocently.
“I think that is quite evident,” he said. “I believe it is called cheating.”
“How dare you, sir!” she demanded. The only thing to do was bluff. She jumped up, knocking over her chair. She hoped he would release her wrist, but his grip became even tighter as he remained seated—bad manners as well as an insult.
“But I do dare, my lady,” he answered, his tone deadly quiet. “You see, I have been watching you. It is only to me that the cards come from the bottom of the deck. Would you care for a demonstration?”
One of the other men at the table cleared his throat and tentatively suggested, “I really don’t think that is necessary, Your Grace.”
The Duke acted as if he had not heard. Never taking his eyes from Jessica’s face, he turned the deck of cards face-up and began to recite each card as he took it from the top of the pile. “Four of hearts. Seven of spades. Jack of spades. Trey of diamonds. Shall I go on?”
Jessica’s eyes closed, and she felt the blood drain from her face. Suddenly, he was on his feet. He seemed to tower over her.
“If you were a man, I would demand satisfaction with weapons tomorrow at dawn,” he told her roughly. “But since you are a woman, there will have to be another way.” He paused for a moment, then his voice became silky. “I believe I have just the solution.” One arm went about her waist and pulled her close against his unyielding body. He forced her head back with a thumb under her chin as if he meant to kiss her. “Perhaps Madame would not be pleased to discover that one of her patrons has been cheating in her house.”
Jessica’s eyes widened in fright. She tried to wriggle away from his hard body. “No, please!” she gasped.
His arm tightened around her, preventing her escape. “Then you will have to convince me otherwise,” he said coldly.
Lord Hoxly leapt to his feet. “This has gone far enough, Your Grace,” he said stiffly. “I demand that you leave the lady alone.”
The Duke’s chilling glance fell on the man. “You demand, sir?”
“Yes.” Lord Hoxly stood tall. “If you require satisfaction from this young lady, I will gladly stand for her.”
Jessica glanced from one man to the other in uncertainty. She was relieved that someone at the table saw fit to protect her from the rogue who held her, but she did not wish anyone harmed because of her. Before she could gather her wits enough to speak, she saw the Duke’s eyes narrow dangerously.
“This does not concern you, Hoxly, nor any of the other gentlemen present. If you value your life, I would suggest you remain silent. You know I do not speak idly if I tell you that I will call out every man at this table if there is a hint of rumor concerning this night. The insult was to me and me alone, and the satisfaction I demand will come only from this lady. I presume I make myself clear, gentlemen?” His glance swept around the table.
The men either nodded or lowered their eyes. Even Lord Hoxly sank back into his chair.
The Duke turned back to Jessica. His thumb casually caressed her cheek as he murmured, “Remember, my sweet, persuade me.” He released her without warning and strode from the room.
Deathly silence fell after his departure. Jessica’s head swam, and she swayed. Lord Hoxly steadied her, as everyone began talking at once, and Hoxly helped her into a chair.
“Are you all right, my lady?” he asked solicitously.
Jessica managed a weak smile for him. “Yes, thank you. It was merely a slight dizzy spell. The man frightened me.”
“He is, indeed, a very frightening man,” Hoxly agreed. “Allow me to get you something to drink.”
Jessica nodded her agreement.
As he was occupied, Jessica saw a servant slip into the room and gather up the Duke’s winnings along with her own. Before she could stop him, he left. By the time Lord Hoxly had returned with a glass of brandy, her mind was racing. She had to recover what remained of her winnings. And she had to get out of there and speak to the Duke. She could not allow him to tell Madame about the cheating.
She took a small sip of the brandy, sighed deeply, and stood up. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I bid you good night. Thank you for your kindness, Lord Hoxly.”
“Of course, my dear, not at all,” Hoxly said with fatherly concern. “May I escort you to the door? Or perhaps to your home?”
“No, please don’t trouble yourself,” she told him, not wanting any witness to what she intended to do. “I feel much stronger now, and I am sure the Duke will not bother me again this evening. Good night, sir.” The other gentlemen were deep in conversation, so she was able to slip out unnoticed.
She walked quickly to the door and collected her cloak, but before leaving, she asked Jacques if he was acquainted with the address of the Duke of Wyndham. When she explained her intention was to return something the Duke had left behind that evening, the majordomo gave her the address. Then she went out into the night. Her hackney-coach was there waiting. She gave the driver the address, and they sped off.
As the coach drove up to the house, Jessica saw it was in darkness. Perhaps he had not come straight home, after all. Well, she was prepared to wait for him all night if necessary. She dismissed the hackney and walked up to the front door. It was slightly ajar. She thought that a bit strange, but terrib
ly convenient. At least she could wait for him inside without waking the household. It did not occur to her that there might be others, like parents or siblings, living in the house who might discover her.
Without another thought, she pushed open the door and walked in. She was in a large foyer, but it was dark, and she could not see any of its details, yet she could feel its size extend above her head and stretch out before her. Looking about, she spied an open door into one of the rooms. After a brief hesitation, she decided to wait in there. Discovery of her creeping about a strange man’s house in the middle of the night would be the ruination of whatever shred of a decent reputation she had, but her desperation to set things right overrode everything else.
The room was dark as well, but a fire blazed on the hearth. She thought it odd that a fire would have been lit in a deserted house, but the warmth of the flames beckoned to her. She went to stand before it and held out her cold hands to soak up its heat.
“I’m glad you came, Jessica,” a voice she recognized too well spoke from her right.
Gasping, she spun around. He was there, sitting in a chair, a brandy in his hand. He had been there all the time. Waiting for her. She felt like a small child who had been discovered with a hand in the jar of sweets.
To give herself time to regain her composure, she asked, “How did you know my name?”
The Duke shrugged. “A simple matter of asking Madame. She enjoys making love-matches.”
Jessica opened her mouth to protest his term for their relationship, then decided she had better keep silent. This was not the time to argue about insignificant things. Turning back to the fire, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
“I…I had to talk to you,” she said.
He said nothing.
Swallowing, she pressed on. “Please, you mustn’t tell Madame that I cheated. I have never done it before, and I will never do it again. Please.” She turned back to him and tried to read his expression, but his face was in the shadows.
Finally, he spoke. “How do I know that you will never cheat again? You appear to be quite expert at it, which leads me to believe it is something which you do quite often. Since I have been wronged, you seem to be asking rather much.”
Jessica could see this was going to be quite a bit more difficult than she had originally thought. The Duke was not one to be easily swayed by a coquettish smile or a pouting lip. He was not a man who would forgive easily. She was not going to be able to charm her way out of this predicament. Nor could she tell him the truth and risk her stepmother finding out, giving Margaret the leverage to force her into marriage with Sir Percival.
“What else can I say, Your Grace, except that I am sorry?” she asked.
He merely raised an eyebrow.
“What do you want of me?” she whispered desperately. “I will do anything you ask.”
Carefully, he placed his glass on the table beside him. In one graceful movement, he rose from his chair and came to stand before her. Jessica forced herself not to back away. A strange tension enveloped her with his nearness. She fought to keep her feet planted where they were. He gazed down at her a long moment before he spoke.
“Anything, Jessica?” he queried softly.
She looked up into those green eyes, darkened from the shadows. The firelight played across his face and made it appear demonic and handsome in turns. She knew what he wanted, what she would have to pay to keep his silence. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. Was the price really too high to continue in her current existence? The memory of Sir Percival floated before her eyes. There was only one answer to his question.
“Yes,” she said. “Anything.”
He watched her plead with him. And submit. He was torn between his righteous anger and his foolish desire for her. He had never met such a beautiful creature. She was an enigma, one minute seductive and alluring, the next cold and aloof, the next naïve and innocent. He did not believe her ploy of innocence. She was an adventuress, playing the odds for her own gain. But this time, she had overreached. She had played him for the fool, and for that she would pay.
He untied her mask and slowly removed it. Her beauty was completely revealed. She had not been hiding ugliness, but rather a perfection that would cause the angels to be jealous. The blood raced in his veins. He needed to see more.
He unclasped her cloak and pushed it from her shoulders. A tremor ran through her when his hands brushed her skin. Faked or real? He stood gazing at her a moment, drinking in her loveliness. He did not care if her innocence was a sham. He wanted her, despite her deception. Pulling her to him, wrapping his arms about her, he brought his lips down on hers, searing them with his passion.
This was Jessica’s first taste of a man’s kiss. It was pleasant at first. She enjoyed the strong feel of his arms holding her, the hardness of his body against hers, the warmth that enveloped her. Then the kiss became more demanding. Jessica felt as if she were being smothered. He took her breath, and still he did not stop. She began to panic. She had never felt this way before. She pushed against his chest.
“No,” she murmured. “Please, stop.”
When he released her, a puzzled expression crossed his face, but he did not move away.
She gave a small, nervous laugh. “I…,” she started, then realized she could not explain herself. She was too embarrassed to admit she had never been kissed by a man. Besides, she was supposed to be worldly. That was part of her persona at Madame’s.
“I’ll not force you, Jessica,” he said, his words matter-of-fact. “It is your decision. You know the cost of my silence. If you wish to pay the price, you’ll find me upstairs.”
Jessica watched him move with controlled strength and feline grace to the door and out into the foyer. His footsteps echoed in the dark as he crossed to the stairway. She heard him begin to climb the stairs.
She turned back to the fire as she worried her lower lip between her teeth. His touch had been exciting, his kiss frightening. Jessica had known no man intimately, and the prospect of making love with this stranger, handsome and intriguing though he was, struck fear into her heart. Not only that, she would be ruined, losing the one thing which she could bring to her husband should she ever marry—the fact that she had saved herself only for him.
Jessica closed her eyes and sighed. It had not been easy living by her wits these last several months. She had been very cautious about becoming too friendly with anyone—male or female. Self-preservation prompted her to react with coolness toward everyone. Being a lone female in a place like Madame’s, without the benefit of protector or benefactor, she had been fair game for any man who wished to try his luck at seducing her. Only Madame’s very thin blanket of guardianship had saved her on several occasions. What would happen now if she succumbed to the Duke? Could she pay his price and still remain aloof?
She glanced sideways to the door. She could not allow him to inform Madame of her cheating. Even though Madame was the one person with whom she had a close relationship, she could not impinge on that friendship. Madame did not countenance any form of dishonesty in her establishment. Jessica would be barred from ever playing there again, and she did not have entrance to any other gaming house. She would be unable to pay Margaret. She would be forced to wed Sir Percival.
Jessica came to her decision. There was no recourse but to climb the stairs and go to the Duke. Taking a deep breath, she started on her journey.
As she came to the top of the stairs, she wondered if he often had women guests in his bed. Thinking back on the gossip she had heard about him since his arrival, she thought it very probable that he did. Although not the usual course for a gentleman to entertain his paramours under his own roof, the Duke did not seem to be the usual sort of gentleman. The absence of any servants in the house was quite noticeable. They were probably accustomed to his late-night assignations.
One door stood ajar at
the end of the hall. Firelight flickered through the opening. She turned in that direction. When she arrived at the dark-paneled door, she hesitated, her heart pounding a nervous tattoo. She swallowed once, trying to beat down her fear. Placing her hand on the door, she slowly pushed it open.
The interior was dark and masculine, subtly lit by a group of candles in one corner on a table. A fire crackled warmly in the hearth. A large, four-poster bed with simple, but elegant, blue velvet hangings dominated the room.
The Duke was sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He’d removed his jacket and waistcoat and untied his stock. His shirt was open halfway down his chest. He’d drawn up one knee and rested a casual arm across it. The other long, muscular leg hung over the edge of the bed, his bare foot on the floor. Jessica had never encountered any pirates, but she thought they would resemble Damien Trevor, Duke of Wyndham, as he looked this moment.
She stopped just inside the door. A chill ran down her spine. It had been a mistake to come to the Duke’s bedroom. It was still not too late to turn and run, but she felt rooted to the spot. Her eyes were riveted on the lean figure who relaxed on the bed.
“Come here, Jessica,” he said softly from the dimness.
His voice was like a crack of thunder in the silence of the room. Jessica jumped. Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible string, she moved forward, closer and closer, until she reached the foot of the bed. Another few steps and she would be standing right next to him.
“Closer,” he said.
Gulping, she stepped forward.
“That is far enough.” Although his words were quiet, his eyes reflected the candlelight and made him appear like the Devil incarnate.
The Duke Who Loved Me: On His Majesty's Secret Service Book 1 Page 4