The Devil Duke: A Nobility Love Triangle Romance (The Demon Duchess Series Book 1)

by Tessa Bowen

  Shit! What am I going to do with this stupid, friggin’ gum?

  “The first course will be served presently, Your Grace.”

  “Very good, Reese.”

  The Duke observed her over the rim of his glass as she wiggled in her seat. Izzy was painfully aware that she was being sized up. She tugged at the neck of her pilled sweater dress and ran a shaky hand through her hair, shoving the purple part behind her ear. She guessed she didn’t measure up, and how could she? He was perfect and tall and rich as a king. He sat elegantly in his throne while she writhed in agony,

  The food looked delicious, but her stomach was in knots. In her nervousness, she nearly knocked over her water glass. She attempted to make the save but one of the spoons fell on the rug. Immediately, a servant was there to take care of it. She wanted to crawl under the table and die.

  “Do you think you are equal to this job, Miss De Luca? It will be quite a challenge. You are a foreigner and common born, you aren’t familiar with our customs.”

  She gave an anxious snort. “Common born. That’s one way of putting it.”

  Deliberately, he set down his wine glass and glared at her. “This is not comic relief, Miss Deluca. This is my life we are talking about. Are you ready to have a thousand photographs snapped of you every time you go anywhere? Will you be able to handle it?”

  The dopey smile melted off her face and her chin shot straight up. She was sick of this snooty dude scowling at her. “Yeah, I can handle it.”

  “Certain adjustments will need to be made to your appearance.”

  “Adjustments?”

  A frown marred his brow as he stared at her in that intensely critical way. He waved a hand in the air, motioning to the top of her head and then lower. “You will need an entirely new wardrobe and a new hairstyle, of course. Archibald will set it all up.”

  “I didn’t know that would be part of the deal.”

  “You signed a contract, did you not?” His accent made him seem all the more austere and formal. The candlelight glinted off his gold signet ring as he sawed away at his food. “It should have been clearly stated what was expected of you. Certainly, you did not think your present appearance would be satisfactory.”

  “I never said it was ‘satisfactory’ but it’s the way I look, isn’t it? Maybe you should have gotten a friggin’ Ralph Lauren model for the job.”

  The Duke’s eyes narrowed to slits. “The pay is very good, Miss Deluca and you will get some new clothes out of the bargain. I hardly think you should have any objection.”

  “I know I don’t look good enough to be with someone like you, but you don’t have to be so rude about it? I feel like I’m in a scene from Beauty and the Beast.”

  He rose and threw his napkin on the table. “Oh? And which of us is the Beast?”

  When Izzy’s jaw dropped, her gum landed on her tongue. “I thought…I thought…you wanted me to help you.”

  “How can you help me?” he spat. “You know nothing of my world. This is bloody preposterous and it will never work.”

  Izzy ejected herself from her seat. “Why did you ask me to come all the way out here then!”

  “It wasn’t my idea. I don’t know what that old fool was thinking.”

  He stalked out of the room. Izzy raced after him, fury setting fire to her heels. She spotted a light at the end of the hall and heard voices.

  Sir Archibald’s reed-like tenor mixed with the Duke’s rumbling baritone. “Your Grace, I am sure she can be made over properly to suit you. Not to worry. We can get the best people on it. She does have good bone structure—don’t you think?”

  “That tattered ragamuffin could never pass for a duchess! She is the most unlikely candidate for this job. She is an urchin from the streets—a little gutter rat,” the Duke ranted. “Good Lord, and that ridiculous haircut. It looks like she hacked away at the ends with a dull knife and all the dyed bits.”

  “I believe it is only one dyed bit, Your Grace.”

  “Have it undyed at once! It looks like a parrot made its bloody nest on her head, and the gum chewing—a most atrocious habit.”

  “She is a diamond in the rough to be sure, Your Grace. But you must see this is all for the best. The public loves the story—why they’ve gone batty for her.”

  “What an absolute bloody farce—my entire life has been decided for me and all because of one bloody photograph, with one bloody silly girl. I have no choice but to follow along like a fool.”

  She will buy you your freedom which you know is the best thing for you and Lady Charlotte. It has already happened—the story has been told, we can’t stop it now. We may as well make the best of it, Your Grace.”

  “How old is she anyway?” The Duke demanded. “She looks like a thirteen year old boy—and an unkempt boy at that. This is a bloody sham. Which one is she anyway—the one who spilled coffee on me in New York?”

  “No, Your Grace, I believe she is the one who fainted in your arms.”

  “The idea that I would take up with such a creature is unfathomable. Let alone make her my wife. She does not express herself properly, her manners are deplorable. She has no natural grace, her diction and carriage are poor. She even snorted at me. You know how I loathe snorting—I find it truly repugnant.”

  Isabel had heard quite enough. She leapt out of the shadows and stormed the study. “You are the one who needs to get some friggin’ manners…Your Grace!”

  The Duke stopped pacing behind his desk as the young woman with the strange haircut advanced on him, jamming a finger in his face. Standing, she only came up to his chest, but that little finger she wielded was a mighty weapon.

  “If you think for one second that I’m taking anymore shit from you, you are wrong. DEAD wrong, do you hear me, you pompous friggin’ blowhard? I don’t care how much you are paying me.”

  The Duke’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. There came that little finger again, right in his face. She nudged him back, cornering him until the back off his legs met with the corner of the desk.

  “You are the one who does not know how to talk to people, not me,” she went on furiously. “I mean what is your friggin’ problem, anyway? I didn’t come all the way out here just to be dressed down by some windbag with a funny accent. I know I’m not a ‘ten’ or anything. I’m probably not even a five, but so friggin’ what! Not everyone is born perfect like you!”

  The difference in their size did not seem to intimidate her. He noticed her chest was heaving and her big, dark eyes flashed with emotion. They were the biggest, blackest eyes he had ever seen. The Duke studied her features as she panted in outrage. The old man was right about her bone structure, it was quite fine indeed. He hadn’t noticed it before in the low light of the dining room. She had exceedingly clear skin too, golden brown in hue. Yes, her features were quite delicate, save but those great big flashing eyes.

  He squinted and leaned in a bit, searching out the pupils in the black pools. Were they even there?

  “Stop staring at me like I’m some sorta freak!” She whirled, addressing Sir Archibald who trembled in his oxfords. “You tricked me! You made me think he wanted me to come here. You said he was a perfect gentleman. He’s like the meanest dude I’ve ever met! He didn’t act like this the day I sold him the tie. If I knew what he was really like, I never would have agreed to come here. No wonder you offered me a million dollars. I mean he looks great, but this guy is a total friggin’ nightmare!” Izzy turned her attention back to The Duke. “I thought you were supposed to be a real lady charmer. Well, I’m a friggin’ lady—kind of anyway and lemme tell you, I am NOT charmed.”

  Trevor found himself looking forward to hearing what the belligerent imp would spout off next.

  “Perhaps I need to brush up on my lady charming skills,” he quipped

  She let out an offensive snort. “Yeah, I’ll say.”

  “I’ll get my people on it straight away,” he said very seriously. “I am sure there is some sort of semi
nar I can attend.”

  “I have another thing to say.”

  “Please, do continue Miss De Luca. We are on pins and needles.”

  “You think you are so much better than me because you come from all this,” she motioned wildly around her. “And I come from the ‘streets.’ But I’ll tell you what, you’re just a spoiled, la-de-da, friggin’ fancy pants wearing English snot bag!”

  Now that was a first.

  At some point during her impassioned speech, her gum had shot out of her mouth and landed directly on the toe of his polished oxford.

  “Crap,” she said under her breath.

  She crouched down and plucked the gum off his shoe. She held it on the tip of her finger, not knowing where to put it. The Duke produced an immaculate handkerchief from his breast pocket and held it out to her.

  Izzy smacked the gum right into the center of the monogrammed scroll. “I’m so outta here, dude. I wanna be on the first plane tomorrow, got it?” She turned on her heel and marched out of the room. “You can keep your million dollars.”

  He crumpled the thing in his hand and held it out to Sir Archibald who scampered forward to retrieve it.

  “You signed a contract, Miss Deluca,” he called out after her. “You are legally bound.”

  The girl’s stomping ricocheted throughout the house as she made her furious ascent up the staircase. “So sue me!”

  The Duke waited for the slamming of the bedroom door before turning to his secretary. “Good Lord, she really skewered me, didn’t she? Quite bracing really, to be dressed down so thoroughly.”

  “Bracing…Your Grace?”

  “I remember her now, the one at the department store with the great big eyes. She certainly makes a lot of racket for such a little thing, doesn’t she?”

  “She does have real moxie, Your Grace.”

  The Duke placed his fingertip on his lower lip and gave it a thoughtful pat. “Moxie…yes, she’s got that in spades and there is something else she has…”

  “Good bones, Your Grace?”

  The tapping turned to stroking as his gaze drifted off. “Yes, the bones are quite good, but the rest of her is a bloody disaster. I’ll have to apologize now, won’t I—what a bloody bore. In any case, see to it she stays ’til morning, will you.”

  The Duke went the same way as his feisty guest, leaving Sir Archibald to wonder (yet again) how this would ever work.

  Chapter Three

  Izzy drank in the idyllic countryside. The outdoors smelled almost as good as he did.

  How could anyone that smells so good be such a giant a-hole?

  The grass was damp and Izzy was grateful for the tall rubber boots a servant had supplied her with. Moisture seemed to cling to everything on the grounds of the estate, draping the vast expanse of green in a billowy mist.

  To think I almost got to live here for a while. I guess a walk around his royal friggin’ highness’s realm wouldn’t hurt before I bail out of this freak show.

  She came to the edge of the shimmering pond. With a sigh, she peeked at her reflection.

  He called me a beast. I’m not that hideous, am I? I’m certainly not a beast.

  Heaving another sigh, she lifted her gaze to the gently rolling hills and shadowy woodland. A pristine pavilion peeked through the clump of trees. A small pond with a beautiful statue in the center of it lay before the pavilion and a tiny bridge spanned the two. A small form jumped out of the trees and landed on the bridge, twirling in rapid circles.

  “Hi,” Izzy called out.

  The dervish stopped whirling and showed herself. An adorable young girl with a ginger mane of ringlets stared down at her from the bridge. She was dressed in a white and blue stripe dress with a sailor’s bib. A set of transparent fairy wings were attached to her shoulders with elastic straps. Her face and arms were covered in freckles and she had the same beautiful grey blue eyes as the Duke.

  “You must be Charlotte.”

  “Shhhhhhh. You will scare them away.”

  “Who?”

  “The other fairies, you ignoramus.”

  “Oh, man—you really take after your father, don’t you?”

  “Are you Daddy’s new girlfriend? You are not quite pretty enough are you? Come forward American invader.”

  “God, what is with you people?”

  Izzy took a step closer so the Duke’s daughter could size her up. She hoped she would get a better rating from his kid.

  Charlotte reached out a hand and tugged a piece of Izzy’s hair. “Daddy doesn’t like short hair on ladies.”

  “Nope, he sure doesn’t.”

  “The purple bit looks like a feather. I rather like it. Perhaps you are not beautiful but you look just like a fairy, or maybe more like an elf. I can’t quite decide. You are tiny like an elf but you have great big eyes like a fairy. Will you be having your picture taken with Daddy?”

  “That was the idea, but I won’t be staying long.”

  “Mummy left us too. She did not like the pictures.”

  “Oh…I’m sorry.”

  “She did not want to be a Mummy. She only married Daddy for his money. She got her settlement and never came back. You may play with me if you wish.” Charlotte pointed to the set of lavender wings that lay propped up against a tree. “Hurry up then— put on your wings.”

  Izzy followed orders, dropping her hoodie sweatshirt and kicking off her rubber boots.

  “I’m going to hold your hand because that is what fairies do when they dance with each other, but it doesn’t mean I like you.”

  Izzy shrugged. “Okay, that’s cool—I don’t like you either.”

  Soon the girls were chasing each other across the lawn. They splashed through the fountain, frolicking with gaiety. Izzy paused when she heard a horse whinny in the distance. The Duke appeared on horseback at the top of the hill. He was flanked by a very beautiful riding partner. The woman was dressed in full equestrian attire and was in her mid-thirties. She was tall with blonde hair twisted into an elegant low bun. They made a perfect couple.

  “Who is that woman?”

  “Abigail Sutton. She is a baroness. She is one of Daddy’s girlfriends.”

  A baroness, how perfect.

  “Does she live here?”

  “No, she only comes when Daddy wants her to.” Charlotte hollered across the lawn to her father. “Daddy, I have found an American fairy to play with!”

  Tugging at her dripping fairy wings, Isabel slogged out of the fountain feeling like a ridiculous drowned rat. The Duke approached, staring down at her from astride the giant animal.

  His gaze wandered to the waif’s lower half. Her ruffled skirt was soaking wet and shimmied high over her thighs. The garment was miniscule to begin with but looked to have shrunk in its currant wet state, exposing a good portion of leg. Her skin was brown as an almond and the Duke found himself wondering if the rest of her was as dusky. He tilted his head, taking a closer look at the writing on her t-shirt. On the front of it was a big, red apple with a bite taken out of it. Underneath it in quotes it read, “Take a bite out of the Big Apple.”

  “Your apple seems to be missing a bite.”

  Izzy followed his gaze, gasping when she realized her thin shirt was soaked through to reveal her black lace bra and erect nipples. She pulled the drenched cotton away from her skin, blushing profusely.

  The Baroness’s laughter filled the air like music. “Oh, Trevor. Don’t bully the poor girl. They didn’t warn you about him, did they? He can be a real tyrant. We all put up with him because he is so terribly good looking.”

  The Duke grumbled something under his breath as he dismounted. He handed Abigail the reins. “Take Charlotte back to the house, will you? I’ll see you at breakfast.” The Duke waited for them to disappear before addressing Isabel. “I see you’ve met my daughter.”

  Izzy issued forth a loud snort. “Yeah, she put me through the meat grinder too.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here. I was very rude l
ast night.”

  “Yeah…you sure were.”

  “Please accept my sincerest apology.”

  She blinked in surprise.

  An apology from the Devil Duke himself!

  He pulled off his riding gloves, slapping them against his thigh. “I’d like you to stay on.”

  He’d like me to stay on!

  His eyes were as grey as the cloudy sky. He was magnificent in the bright morning light. His features seemed to be hewn of marble, and he was tall, so very, very tall. Every long inch of him was handsome. Izzy noticed his thick eyelashes were tipped with red and gold. The sun filtered through them, making them glitter. A faint sprinkling of freckles ran across his nose, whispering the story of the red haired little boy he had once been. The red had faded to a rich auburn, shot through with stands of copper.

  Isabel shook her head to clear it and squared her shoulders. “Okay, but you better be nicer to me or I really will leave—I don’t care about the money. I’ve been poor my whole life and I’ll keep on being poor. I won’t be treated like that again.”

  A light flickered in his inscrutable eyes, turning them blue around the pupils, then his moody gaze shifted to the horizon. “What’s left of my family wouldn’t survive the scandal if you should leave. I’m sure you’ve read about me in those slanderous rags.”

  “Yeah, you’ve got quite the rep. Well, you’ve got to be nicer to me then, even if it kills you.”

  “I suppose you’re right. I certainly don’t need any more public embarrassment. My wife left me—abandoned her daughter, you know.”

  “Because of what they write about you, you mean?”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Partly—it wasn’t a marriage of love anyway. She tricked me by getting pregnant. Not that I regret having Charlotte, of course. As for my reputation, I’ve had quite enough skirt-chasing for one lifetime. I’ve simply got to reform.”

  The girl gave a dramatic eye roll—a habit which he found as annoying as the snorting.

  “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not, Miss De Luca—as long as the world believes I have changed. If you do your job properly the press will think I’ve settled down. Eventually, they will leave me alone and stop giving me ridiculous names like the Devil Duke. Do you really think I want my daughter reading disparaging things about me?”