One Night with a Duke

by Sandra Masters

  Cook Phoebe, under stress in so many ways, wrung her apron with her hands. “Yes, Your Grace. Unknown to me, one of the lesser cooks engaged a young lady to assist in soup and gravy preparation. When I did find out and started to question the girl, she seemed nervous and frightened. I got a queasy feeling about her and looked for Mr. Randall, but I couldn’t find him. So I waited for him to return to the kitchen. Then he came for me.”

  “Where is this girl now?” Raven asked the terrified cook who seemed about to cry.

  “Gone, Your Grace.”

  Raven turned to his cook and spoke to her in soft and calm tones. “Now, Cook Phoebe, you did well to question this girl. Give Randall a detailed description of what she looked like and what she wore. If you need to replace her with someone else, send to the village for two girls with whom you are acquainted, perhaps Malford’s daughters, so we can get this fine meal you prepared ready for our guests. You have done well, rest assured.”

  “She couldn’t have gotten far, Your Grace,” Randall replied. “She will be found.”

  He handed the cook two gold coins. “I’m most pleased.”

  Cook Phoebe hesitated to take the generous offer.

  He smiled and pressed the money into her hand. “Now be gone with you. I’m hungry already.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Thank you.” She scuttled off with her hand held tight around the precious coins.

  Raven shook his head. “That was a close call, Randall. You know what to do. If you find this girl, detain her in a locked room with no windows.”

  “What are we to do with the package?”

  “Inform Seigfreid. Have him burn it in an open fire away from the manor. I would not want it to fall into anyone’s unknowledgeable hands. Save the burlap and markings after the contents are disposed of so I have evidence. Warn him to make sure he is downwind and take care not to inhale the smoke. Suggest he uses a handkerchief over his nose and mouth.”

  Randall nodded at the instructions, left the room holding the dangerous package with care as if it were a bomb about to explode.

  After he had departed, Raven arose from his chair and went to the table where the brandy resided. He took a large snifter, filled four fingers of liquor, and gulped it down.

  It would indeed be a long night. He would need a suitable diversion.

  ****

  Still in his study a couple of hours before dinner, there was a tap on Raven’s study door. “Enter,” he said.

  “If you have a moment, Your Grace…” Winston awaited permission to speak.

  “Yes, I have a few minutes. What is it?” and gestured for him to sit all the while he kept his disciplined air about him.

  “I wish to inform you that my sister has invested a sizable sum of money into my share of the cartel. Samantha assures me she has not spoken to anyone besides myself and my aunt.”

  “If you are satisfied, it’s sufficient for the moment. I do have a question for you.”

  “And that is?”

  “How well do you know Lord Dudley?”

  Raven withdrew a card from his drawer and handed it to Winston.

  He raised his eyes from the card to Raven. “How did you get this?” After careful thought, he added, “Do you suspect me of betrayal? There is no good I could derive from such a thing. You’ve given me an opportunity to soar with eagles. I can’t believe you would think I would repay you with treachery.”

  Raven’s fist clenched at the wound he’d inflicted on the young man and its necessity tested his resolve. “Someone has given out the information and now the entire venture is in danger. Winston, part of my responsibility is to the people I convinced, by my word, to join the cartel. If one of us has betrayed the others, I have to know. My duty is to ask difficult questions. I’m serious when I say lives are in danger, and, in particular, mine.”

  Raven rose from the chair and came forward toward the young lord. “At this juncture, without me, the cartel will dissolve. I don’t say this with conceit or arrogance. I’m an obvious target and became aware this could be a possibility when I started. It’s imperative that I know whom I can trust.”

  “If you have to ask whether you can trust me.” Winston’s eyes glistened in obvious pain, “You are an unfortunate man. I wanted to emulate you from the first moment I met you. That is why I adopted your quizzing glass and sartorial style. You are a man who commands attention, and I would follow you without question in all things—even to hell. I would not betray my mentor and the man I admire most.” Winston said in a loud voice, “Yes, I’m afraid, but fear is not a crime.”

  He stood. “You have maligned me and mine beyond all measure.” Winston paused. “As for that card of Lord Dudley’s, he gave it to my sister at last week’s ball. He wished to call upon her. She became upset and placed it in my pocket. I forgot about it since it held no importance to her or me. That is the truth. You might choose to ask Samantha, if you dare.”

  “Winston,” he called. “Responsibility can cause us to hurt people for whom we care.”

  With his back to his mentor, the young noble turned. “I’m wounded, Your Grace, and would like to withdraw to my room.”

  “As you wish,” said Raven, angry with himself.

  So he was no nearer to the identity of the culprit and had alienated those he cared about most. Damnation.

  He was now totally convinced Winston’s youth and inexperience didn’t make him guilty. Raven peered out his study window and his heart strings thrummed at the sight of the sun’s radiance on Samantha’s copper hair. A voracious hunger encroached for him to hammer a love song from his heart, to take her in his arms and hold her close, although he knew he could not.

  So he just gazed at her for a long time. His mind ached at the pain he inflicted upon the sister and brother. This week was supposed to be of familiarity, intimacy, and jovial tenderness and it had become a disaster. There was nothing more he could do at the moment, but his resolve firmed, as did his manly parts.

  Chapter Thirty

  Raven heard the footsteps of Prince Nicholas before he saw him directing his staff, who struggled with the huge antique Russian samovar. With great care, they brought the vessel into the drawing room. The exquisite urn was encrusted with gems of various colors glistening in the sunlit room.

  Raven announced to the group that Prince Nicholas would inform them about the priceless antique.

  Prince Nicholas cleared his throat and said with much pride. “This belonged to my aunt. A connoisseur of the finer things in life, the moment she knew I coveted it, she gifted this unusual piece to me. Of course,” he nodded. “I do recall the exact moment she did so. I knew she always favored me. I might add, with good reason.” He looked at the guests and fondled the edge of his mustache. “There were many who lived in fear of her, but I loved her for all she was…a strong hellcat.” He pointed to the treasure. “I do enjoy bringing it on my long trips since I’m convinced the tea it brews is fit for a Prince. I’d be pleased to obtain your opinions.”

  “Dinner á la Russe.’” followed established protocol. Prince Nicholas’ servants assisted the house staff. The novelty of the menu and the white-gloved presentation stimulated conversation for most of the night.

  When at last they proceeded through all the courses and were ready for dessert, the ice cream came forth in various flavors served with a crème embellishment. The guests now enjoyed the sweet wine, and His Highness presented a toast. “To His Grace, our gracious host and my dearest friend, and the Lady Margaret, our esteemed hostess, please raise your glasses, in sincere thanks for a most memorable event of my beloved Russia. Da. Yes.” Glasses raised as the guests all smiled in appreciation.

  “You are quite welcome,” Raven said. “Now, gentlemen, shall we retire to the library for some brandy while the ladies gather in the main drawing room. There are refreshments there, and it will give us time to speak of other matters.” Raven led them to his library, and the conversations they had kept light and convivial soon evolved into las
t minute questions about the precarious situation that now enveloped the cartel.

  A half hour later, the gentlemen joined the ladies and formed conversational groups. One talked about horoscopes, and Lady Samantha read the ladies signs.

  Raven walked toward a group in conversation about the imminent ball. Some others started a game of whist. Raven approached Samantha and extended his arm to her and asked, “My lady, we might be able to look at a few of the eighty-eight constellations. Would you join me?”

  She accepted and laughed. “I don’t think we have time for all of them.” They walked through the doorway where he guided her to a secluded corner of the balcony out of sight of everyone.

  Samantha gazed at the stars and identified Orion, the giant hunter, as one of them. Her face touched his when she pointed upward. She experienced a difficulty at the heady sensation, which overcame her and she swayed a moment. Her eyes sought and found his. The warmth of her body played tricks, so she glided her hand to her throat to calm her thoughts. Poised to enter the uncharted waters of passion, with him as her guide, her inner muscle tightened. Such a strange reaction. She held her eyes to his. The quiet unsettled her.

  “I would like to know what your thoughts are right now, Samantha.” With gentleness he held her hand. His simple touch made her temperature soar, her nerve endings quivered. Everywhere there was heat, hot, wet, slick in inviting silence.

  “If I told you, Raven, you would lecture me about propriety.” They laughed in mock gaiety. She tried to calm the thrum of her heartbeat, which pounded in her temples like siege battering rams to a fortress gate. Her logic disappeared, and in its place was—desire.

  Through the foggy mist of her mind, she heard him whisper, “Samantha, if you’re taking a chariot ride, don’t forget to include me. You have that faraway look in your eyes.”

  Samantha liked the sound of his voice when he uttered her name. It rolled off his lips like sweet nectar.

  “Do you succumb to temptation at all, Raven?” She wet her lips in anticipation of something wonderful and decadent. “I find it hard to believe a man of such intellect and progressive behavior with such a concern for human welfare is tempted.” She turned quickly to look back at him. “Are you?”

  Samantha had a need to keep conversing. He had asked her about her thoughts. Some things became clear. How do you discern need versus want? Strong new sensations propelled through her now non-existent barriers, and they demanded release.

  “My lady, I’m not a saint. On the contrary, there are many who would refer to me as the devil incarnate.” His words were velvet, soft, and his breath warm as he nibbled her earlobe at the sensitive spot behind her ear. So this is what it’s all about. She uttered a simple sigh.

  In her innocence she faulted herself for her inexperience. She faulted the tingle that grew and escalated to a warm flurry in her stomach that increased in intensity. It took all of her strength to pretend the sensible woman in her still existed. The moment Raven first entered her carriage and her life, everything changed—for the better. How much longer would she have to wait?

  Raven closed his eyes for a moment. She smelled fragrant and the essence of everything female. Her honeyed lips taunted him with their sweet affectation of innocence. Yet how could a widow feign innocence so well? He asked this question many times. Either she was a good actress or a complete innocent. He pondered the choice.

  Raven drew closer to her. “I have missed the scent of you and regret our lack of time together. Everything is not as I planned. There is much I want you to see.” He locked his eyes to hers. “When you get to know me intimately, you might be surprised,” Raven said.

  “Intimately?” Wide eyes beckoned him.

  “Very intimately,” he said.

  The strong vibrations prompted his instincts that she shared his thoughts. The night seemed to stand still, and they were alone in a separate world they created.

  “You are incredibly complicated.”

  “Yes, I know.” She stepped back.

  “You are stubborn and willful.”

  “Yes.” She took another two steps back.

  He advanced. “You are irreverent in your attitude toward me.”

  “Yes, but not as much as before.”

  Her back to the wall, he moved toward her, raised his right hand alongside her hair. His left arm against the wall, enclosing her in his body vise.

  “I shall have to punish you for your offenses.”

  “No.”

  In spite of all the negative aspects, his lips leaned into hers. “You are damn irresistible, and I want you.”

  “Oh,” she sighed.

  “I will come to your rooms tonight.”

  “No, that is not wise.”

  The sound of her racing breath thrilled him. “There is a stairway at the back of your suite which is discreet.”

  “How discreet?” she asked.

  “Very,” he answered. “It’s there I will wait for you after everyone has retired and escort you to the boathouse. I’ll be in the darkness to rescue you.”

  “And will I need a rescuer?”

  How he loved it when she flirted shamelessly with her long fringed eyelashes.

  He grinned. “Perhaps I should have said my services are available if required,” he added.

  “Do I look like a woman who needs servicing?”

  He expelled his breath, “Let us just say, yes. And I am here to pledge my desire to do so.” Raven moved away, but her nearness captured his every thought. Her scent was fragrant, sensual, and expectant.

  He did not expect the ruffle of her fan tap to his cheek. A light one, it surprised him. “Does that mean you will meet me?”

  The provocative look in her eyes wielded its power, “Yes.”.

  His hand went to his cheek and an amused chuckle rose to the trees. “Touché.”

  “Don’t be late.” She flicked open her fan.

  “Hah, you are dismissed.”

  “Hah,” she laughed back. “You’ll find I don’t dismiss easily.” With a wide swoop of her silk skirts, she turned away; her heels punctuated the stone floor, and she never looked back.

  The mirth of her laughter appealed to him. He closed his eyes in contemplation of his head between her full breasts—soon. The pang in his groin elevated his desire. Damnation, he never experienced such a thrill.

  Obsession, a word he disdained, came to mind. What does a man do with an obsession? He answered his question…I give in.

  The amazement of her action with her fan amazed and stilled him. Like fine wine or cognac, she would not disappoint. This gave him delightful food for thought. What else would that fan do?

  The ladies retired for the evening. Samantha accompanied her aunt to her bedroom and waited while the maid prepared her aunt for the night’s sleep. She kissed Aunt Min’s forehead and whispered, “Sweet dreams. Dream wonderful dreams for me, too.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I have to do that, Samantha. I’m sure you will conjure up a few of yours tonight. She turned her head away from her niece in obvious fatigue, “Good night, child. Do try to be good.”

  Dear sweet Aunt, I don’t like to deceive you at all, but I want to be with Raven tonight, even if for a few moments. Please understand. It’s something I must do.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Samantha entered her chambers, posed at her reflection in the mirror, brushed a curl into place, and dabbed perfume in the cleft between her breasts. The book wrapped in satin ribbon lay on her vanity. She clutched it with her right hand before she descended the steps in silence. Afraid to trip on her gown, her other hand clung to the rock wall, and she became aware of the panic that threatened to engulf her in anticipation of what the evening would bring. In truth, she was petrified, but seduction beckoned and overcame the fear. Would he be there?

  When she reached the bottom, alarm overtook her. Her breathing raced, and her hands shook, now convinced she dared too much. About to turn around and go back, the sound of Raven’s soft
whisper calmed her like a warm breeze after a storm.

  “I’m here, Samantha. Allow me to assist you.” He reached to steady her with his assured touch.

  The nearness of him soothed her, any fear now forgotten.

  His fingers on her lips caressed lovingly in a signal to be silent. The touch of his arm encircling her waist relieved her anxiety. Samantha allowed him to lead her down the path toward the lake and the boathouse in the semi-dark night with a full moon to illuminate the way.

  Did he sense her trepidation?

  Further from the main house, he spoke in low dulcet tones. “I’m pleased you didn’t change your mind. The boathouse is my favorite place. I’d like it to become yours, too.”

  A shadow of a man appeared. She startled, stopped, and looked up to Raven wide-eyed.

  “Don’t be afraid. It’s one of my men.” He nodded and the man withdrew into the darkness. “Now, at least for a short time, I can relax and be a man who is bewitched by you.”

  Raven stepped aside and she entered through an open door. He followed her and secured the lock. A few discreet candles lit the room, but the full moon and bright star-studded midnight sky provided the romantic atmosphere.

  Samantha broke the silence of the moment. “I have this book for you, Raven. It’s the first edition of poems by John Keats. There is a note for you inside.” She held the book in her hand for him to take.

  She gazed upward, drawn to his steel dark gray eyes tinged with silver, his softer side, she thought. His male stature, animal magnetism, and deep, strong presence made her aware of how much she wanted this man to hold her close, touch her with those long manicured fingers, and make her a true woman. Somehow she knew he would fulfill all her naïve expectations. Everything about him was majestic. Magical, too?

  Something happened to her. Her control vanished like an unrequited wish. His nearness became undeniable. If she lost her courage now, she might never know the tenderness of his touch and the joy of his closeness. If he didn’t kiss her now, she’d perish.