The Heiress Gets a Duke

by Harper St. George

  When he pulled back, they were both gasping for breath, and he wasn’t smiling anymore. His eyelids fell closed as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Say we will always be friends.”

  Say that you still need me.

  Instead of giving voice to that, she swallowed and said thickly, “Always.”

  He pulled away from her, and the moment was over. His voice was normal as was his expression. “My fight with Wilkes is tomorrow night, same place. You should come.”

  She tried and failed to stomp out the alarm and fear those words evoked. He wasn’t hers to be concerned about. “Isn’t that a dangerous place for a lady?”

  “Not if you are with my men.”

  “But someone might recognize me.”

  “I suppose you are right. You see what happened last time someone recognized you there.” He teased her.

  She wanted to laugh to appease him, but it was impossible. “Please be careful. I don’t trust him.”

  “With good reason. I will be careful.”

  She nodded and reluctantly said, “You should go before my family returns. I’m certain they’ll be upset.”

  “Then I should stay and deal with them.”

  That sounded terrible. She wouldn’t be able to hold herself together sufficiently to handle them both, especially when she didn’t understand exactly what she felt. She should be happy, but she was decidedly miserable. “No, please go. I’d rather do it myself.”

  “No. You should not be forced to face them alone.” He appeared resolute.

  “Please, Evan. It’ll be easier alone.”

  He stared at her for a moment charged with meaning. Finally, he nodded. “I understand.” Reaching up, he brushed his thumb across her lips before dropping his hand and turning away. She forced herself to stay where she was instead of following him out. At the door, he said, “Goodbye, August.”

  She smiled and managed a wave. Words would have hurt too much.

  Chapter 22

  I never wanted but your heart—that gone, you have nothing more to give.

  Mary Wollstonecraft

  Persuading Max to take her to the fight had not been easy. He had outright refused each time she had mentioned it. It had taken her approaching him in the same cloak Camille had given her when it was time to go to convince him that she was serious. Now that they were in the warehouse awaiting the fight, he seemed to be experiencing an extreme case of doubt. They were not on the riser like last time, having deemed it prudent to stay among the crowd of working- and middle-class patrons to not get noticed. It helped that Max hadn’t been properly introduced to Society, so that any who saw him wouldn’t recognize him anyway. August kept her hood up just in case.

  “Why have we come here again?” Max sounded grumpy as he swiveled his head from left to right to take in the crowd. He had pushed them through the mass so that they were close enough to the ring to have a reasonable view but next to the wall. He stood squarely between her and anyone who might want to get close to her. She thought he was overreacting, but he wouldn’t listen to reason.

  “Because I want to see him. You should at least pretend you’re here to watch the match. All of that head swiveling is going to get us noticed.”

  He scoffed. She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear it in his tone. “You are here to see the man who cried off and broke your betrothal?”

  “Stop. It was mutual, and if you recall, I didn’t want to marry him anyway.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, he gave her a knowing look. She had cried a little last night, so her eyes were slightly red rimmed. Anyone could plainly see that. She quickly turned her attention back to the empty ring. The tears that she had not been able to stop last night had finally convinced her that she cared for Evan. No. More than cared. She loved him and wanted a future with him. It was why she had come, to face her fears and tell him that very thing.

  To be fair, she had been uncertain of that fact when he had come to her. It had been much later in the privacy of her bedroom when she had succumbed to her tears that had made things clear for her. She wouldn’t be hurting if she didn’t feel genuine love for him. As much as she had despised giving up her freedom to marry him, she hated giving him up even more. She missed his touch and his kisses and his quick wit and the way he had of looking at her that made her think he actually saw who she was and who she wanted to be.

  Mostly, she missed the life that they had begun to plan out together. After ruminating over that fact all day in her bedroom, she had come to the only conclusion possible. She wanted to continue their courting. No, that wasn’t the complete truth. She wanted their engagement. She was ready to marry him as they had planned, but if he preferred, they could take their time. The moment the decision had been made, August had known it was the right one. Something inside her had settled as if all was well with her world again.

  She would tell him after the fight. There was no sense in distracting him beforehand. She had not shared any of this with Max, hence his grumpiness. Actually, he had been angry enough with Evan that the knowledge might make him grumpier. She couldn’t be certain. The only person she had told was Violet, who had wholeheartedly agreed with her decision.

  All at once, the mood of the crowd changed. They became louder and pushed forward. The men guarding the ring were forced to hold out their batons to keep the area around the ring cleared. She and Max were pressed closer to the wall, his body shielding hers from the crush. He cursed under his breath, and she conceded this might not have been the most well-executed plan she had ever devised. They weren’t as isolated here as she and Camille had been on the riser.

  But her heart was pounding through her chest, and the blood was thrumming through her veins. She would see him again soon. Standing on her tiptoes to see over the head of a man who had moved in front of them, her stomach tumbled joyously when he approached the ring. The same men as before surrounded him, only this time the Earl of Leigh was a part of the escort. He leaned close to say something to Evan, who nodded, and then Leigh went to lean against the riser.

  Evan stepped through the ropes and into the ring, raising his fists and drawing a roar of approval from the crowd. His beard had grown in a little more, almost as thick as it had been the first time she had seen him. The pomade darkened his hair, and the beard partially obscured his features, but he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen. Her chest swelled with warmth and affection. His gaze scanned the crowd, and she hoped he would see her, but of course he didn’t. There were too many people in front of her.

  He was barefoot this time. Perhaps it was a condition of the fight. Her suspicion was confirmed when Wilkes entered the ring moments later dressed only in trousers. He still looked as mean as he had before, with eyes that were mere slashes of menace. His gaze never rose to the crowd. All of his ire was reserved for Evan.

  Genuine fear churned in her belly. Why hadn’t she tried harder to talk Evan out of this fight? It was completely unnecessary now with his financial troubles solved. A large part of it was for his own pride, she knew, but fighting Wilkes seemed to be an exorbitant price to pay.

  Her chest tightened when Wilkes approached Evan. He paid no attention to the fact that the official who was presumably setting the rules for the match had not yet finished speaking. He was angry and out for blood, so the blow was no surprise. Evan managed to move back to avoid it, and the official whirled away, hurrying out between the ropes. The crowd jeered their disapproval, but that didn’t stop Wilkes. He lashed out again and this time clipped Evan’s chin. August let out a gasp almost as if she could feel the pain herself. Max glanced at her but was immediately drawn back to the match.

  She watched the rest with her fingers covering her lips. Evan came back with a fury, landing blow after blow to Wilkes’s torso, but the older man appeared to have something to prove. He absorbed each blow and then matched them, walking Evan backwa
rd until he was nearly against the ropes. It was an endless back-and-forth, each taking and then delivering his own vengeance.

  Finally, Wilkes began to show signs of fatigue. His chest heaved, and he was slower to pivot and swing an answering blow with his fist. To compensate, he crouched low and rammed Evan in the stomach. This knocked him backward, and Wilkes fell on top of him, swinging his fist.

  “Dear God,” August cried out, and she pushed forward so that she could see if he was all right, but the crowd was too thick, and the men were on the ground. The men who had accompanied Evan rushed forward, but they didn’t seem to be entering the ring.

  “Stay here!” Max ordered and pushed his way forward. She had no intention of being left behind, and she followed in his wake. The crowd roared again, and Max called back, “He’s back on his feet.”

  Peering around his shoulder, she could see Evan’s smirk as he raised a hand in the air. The crowd gave another roar of approval. Wilkes wobbled to his feet and made an attempt at engaging Evan with a fist, but it was easily dodged. When Evan punched him in the chin, the larger man went down and this time didn’t get up. The official jumped between the ropes and checked him. “Wilkes is down!” he declared.

  The crowd cheered. Evan jumped, punching the air in victory. Several men hurried into the ring to help an unsteady Wilkes get to his feet, leading him out of the ring and down the path that led to the side door. Able to breathe again, August cheered with the people around them, and even Max smiled.

  “Do you want to go talk to him?” he asked, bending to hear her answer among the chaos.

  She meant to say yes, but a streak of shimmering pink caught her eye. Madame Laurent was walking toward the ring from her place at the riser next to the earl, a wide smile on her face and eyes only for Evan. She must have come into the warehouse behind him earlier, but August hadn’t noticed her. With the ropes between them, Evan put an arm around her waist and leaned down to say something. She laughed and said something back to him, and then lifted onto her toes to place a kiss right on his lips. The men near them howled in encouragement, and she smiled before putting her hands behind his head and deepening the kiss. It seemed to go on forever. When the kiss was finished, Evan stared down at her with the same intensity he had reserved for August. Or August had thought it was only for her. Apparently, he looked at every one of his lovers in that way. He had said he and Madame Laurent were only friends, but obviously that had changed after yesterday. Or perhaps they had resumed their relationship when he had returned from Charrington Manor.

  Nausea churned in her stomach, and she wobbled on her feet. Grabbing Max’s arm before he could react, she said, “No, I want to go.”

  Frowning, he glanced down at her and then back toward Evan. “Who is that?”

  “It’s not important. I want to go home.” He opened his mouth to say something, but she spoke before he could. “Now.”

  Fury burned in his eyes as he cast one last glance in their direction, but then he nodded and took her hand, leading them through the crowd and toward the carriage they had left waiting for them. August couldn’t speak right away once they were inside and on the way back to Mayfair. It hurt too much. Her body physically hurt with the pain of knowing that Evan had been so quick to move on from her. Less than a week had passed since they had agreed to their negotiated marriage. Since he had been inside her and they had shared the most amazing experience she had thought two people could share.

  What a foolish notion. Men took mistresses all the time, and it meant nothing. She had known that and yet somehow had believed that what they had between them was more. Fighting back the sick feeling in her stomach and her heart, she asked, “When do you leave for New York?”

  “The day after tomorrow. Why do you ask?”

  “I want to go back with you.”

  She couldn’t stay in London and risk running into him again.

  * * *

  * * *

  Congratulations, Hellion. That was a hell of a fight.” Gabrielle’s voice with the faintest hint of a French accent cut through the din of the crowd.

  Evan reached out, snaking his arm around her waist to bring her closer. She had been with him from the very first public match, and the men in the crowd seemed to love her, routinely getting louder and betting harder when she was present. “A hell of a fight for Wilkes,” he said.

  The cheers grew louder at the embrace, obscuring what she said in answer. She leaned up and placed a kiss on his mouth. It wasn’t an unusual display of affection after the win. What was unusual was the fact that she deepened it, her tongue brushing across his lips in an effort to have him open to her. They hadn’t been lovers in years, but he might have obliged her and played along if something about the way she had looked at him in the heartbeat before their mouths touched hadn’t raised suspicion. Her gaze had been too intent, too full of meaning. This wasn’t her usual playfulness. Then she tugged the hair at the back of his head, curling her fingers in the locks in the same way August did, and it suddenly felt like a mistake. Too intimate and with the wrong person. Placing his other hand on her waist, he gently pulled back. Her eyes reflected a passion he hadn’t seen in them since he’d left her bed.

  She leaned forward to speak near his ear. “Come home with me tonight, Evan.”

  Had she asked him after the last fight, he would have said yes. They had drifted apart as lovers to pursue others, but the attraction was still present. She was giving and adventurous in bed, and he carried nothing but fond memories of their time together. But she wasn’t right in his arms now. She was beautiful and perfect in her own way, but she was thin where his hands expected August’s curves, and too tall when his body longed to tuck her against him. She was not August.

  He wanted to take August home. To have her soothe his wounds and help him in his bath. Then he wanted to spend the rest of the night with her under him in his bed, showing her all the ways they could find pleasure together.

  “What happened with Ware?” he asked.

  She shrugged one shoulder, and he caught a glimmer of pain in her eyes. “He wasn’t who I thought he was.”

  Evan could have told her that Ware was a scoundrel and would never return her affection, but he had not wanted to ruin the small bit of happiness she had found.

  “Now that he’s gone, we could amuse ourselves for a few nights,” she said.

  Touching her cheek to gentle his refusal, he said, “I am sorry, Gabrielle, but I want August.” After their talk the day before, Evan had been willing to let August walk away from him. But that resolve had lasted for all of twenty-four hours. He wanted her in his life, and he planned to try to win her.

  “We need to get going. You never know when Wilkes’s friends might put in an appearance,” said Leigh, coming to a stop beside Gabrielle outside the ropes.

  It was true. They made certain to not linger after all of the public matches outside the club. The environment was largely uncontrollable and very prone to disgruntled gang members lurking to take back money that had been lost.

  “Do you love her, then?” she asked.

  He shrugged. Perhaps he did. Yes, if living without her made him feel so empty, he did. “Come back to the club with us and celebrate.”

  She nodded and allowed Leigh to lead her away toward one of the carriages waiting out back. Evan jumped out over the top of the ropes to where his friends were waiting. Thorne clapped him on the back in congratulations and tossed him a towel. As Evan brushed off the layer of sweat and blood, he looked toward the crowded riser. August was not there. He knew because he had looked for her as soon as he had entered the warehouse. Still, he could not help but look one more time, hopeful that he had somehow missed her. Foolish of him, but he had hoped she would come. Disappointment was bitter on his tongue.

  “The crowd is becoming restless,” said Thorne, nodding toward the side door.

  Evan agreed and
took a last lingering look before following him. His boots were waiting in the carriage along with his shirt and coat. He would take a bath in his room at the club before joining in the celebration. The truth was he did not feel like celebrating. He should have been ecstatic, and in the moment when Wilkes had fallen, he had been, but the feeling had been fleeting.

  The same emptiness that had been present ever since he walked out of August’s life had come swirling back. He missed her.

  Giving her freedom had been the right thing to do, but his noble instincts only extended so far. He wanted her to be his. That last kiss between them had been telling. She had wanted it as much as he had, and her eyes had shown genuine sadness as he was leaving.

  He was a duke who was not in need of a wife but who wanted one. He laughed, drawing Leigh’s attention as he swung himself up into the carriage. His ribs ached from Wilkes’s blows, but he ignored them.

  “Wilkes hit you too hard?” Leigh asked.

  Evan could not stop the smile that spread across his face. “I am going to ask August to marry me.”

  Leigh laughed without mirth and glanced at his brother, who was getting into the carriage. “We should have the physician examine him.”

  Thorne smiled as he sat across from them, stretching his long legs out before him. “He seems fine to me. Inherit a fortune and then sign the Crenshaw contract as insurance.”

  “This is not about the contract. I only want her.”

  Leigh looked at him as if he was mad, but Thorne raised a brow. “Words I never thought to hear you say.”

  They were surprising to Evan as well, but they were true. The hours he had spent without August had reaffirmed how empty his life had been before her. He had the club, his friends, and now the funds to help his tenants, and he would see to those things even without her. But he would much rather have her with him. She brought a light into his world that he did not want to live without. He refused to consider the possibility that she might actually reject him.