Bewitching The Forbidden Duke (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Scarlett Osborne

  Patrick was supposed to be hers.

  She wanted to stamp her foot, scream, and rage but instead, she swallowed her spleen and followed Brynn to the carriage. Her lady’s maid was to accompany her as it was an overnight trip and that was the only bright side on this dark day. She hoped fervently that at least whoever would be performing at the recital had some skill and talent.

  “Cheer up. It'll be fine,” Brynn whispered consolingly as the carriage took off.

  “Of course, it will be fine. I shall find some man who will capture my interest as much as Lord Bergon did at this recital. We shall be married and live together in eternal bliss.”

  Brynn simply looked away, her body vibrating with hurt. Melissa felt something twist in her chest with remorse. Brynn was her only friend and she was just trying to help.

  “I’m sorry. Please ignore my stupid words. I took my irritation with mother out on you and that was wrong.”

  Brynn turned her head to smile at her. “Tis fine. I understand.”

  Melissa reached out and squeezed her hand.

  * * *

  Halston Pickering was a dear friend to Patrick. They had attended Cambridge and roomed together. His father might have been the younger son of a baron but he was also an excellent businessman. The Pickerings were therefore quite well off. It created a situation of resentment and jealousy with the other sons of lords.

  Patrick and Halston were considered to be practically in trade and barely qualified to attend Cambridge so they stuck together out of necessity. A burgeoning friendship had resulted as well as many opportunities to do business together.

  So when Halston sent him a note, pleading with him to attend the piano recital his mother was throwing, he promptly agreed. Even though he was engaged, and thus no longer in the marriage mart, debutante mamas were always looking for personable young men to fill up the numbers. Halston did not want to face all that on his own.

  He had an appointment to take tea with Lady Rose and her mother, and he was torn between anticipation and trepidation. Not having seen Lady Melissa since she burst into his house a week and a half ago, he was eager to at least have news of her. He did not dare to dream that she might be present at this tea. If he did that, he did not know if he would be able to attend. He had kept an eye for her in the early morning at the Convent Garden market but neither she nor her lady’s maid had appeared.

  Patrick wondered what it meant.

  Is she too miserable to adventure or did something more grave than that occur?

  Patrick could admit that he was a little worried.

  He arrived a little early for tea as a result, smiling slightly as he handed off his hat and coat to the butler. He stepped into the drawing room, bowing over Her Grace’s hand as he issued his apologies for his earliness.

  “My eagerness to see you both made me impatient. I hope you can forgive me for calling upon you earlier than requested.”

  Lady Rose veritably beamed and Patrick felt a twinge of guilt for his lies. He wondered how soon he could ask about Lady Melissa without appearing rude. They all sat down with The Duchess looking exceeding pleased. As the butler poured their tea, the ladies inquired as to the health of his family.

  That reminded him of his stepmother and the bizarre request she had made recently that they all make a habit of sitting down to dine together every night. While The Duke was willing to indulge her, and his sister had no choice, he made every excuse to miss as many of these dinners as he could. He smiled tightly, informing The Duchess that his family was doing well.

  They drank their tea and Lady Rose asked him questions which he tried his best to answer. He was distracted, seeking any opening to ask after Lady Melissa but it was as if they knew what he wanted and steered the conversation from anything that might present an opportunity to unobtrusively slip her name into the conversation.

  Patrick was at his wit’s end. He was about to just blurt out his questions when The Duchess got to her feet, prompting Patrick to find his own as well.

  “Well, I do believe I shall go and lie down now. Lady Rose, I shall send in your lady’s maid to sit with you. Good evening Lord Bergon.” She nodded to him and he made her a leg before waiting on his feet until she walked out.

  With a deep breath, he sat back down, wondering why The Duchess had left them alone. Lady Rose immediately transferred herself from the armchair she had been sitting in, to the settee he was on.

  Patrick sighed inwardly.

  “Kiss me,” she said without preamble, her eyes bright and eager.

  Patrick hesitated, wondering if it was de rigueur to refuse outright to kiss one’s own betrothed. Even though it was already too late, he would not make that mistake again.

  “My dear Lady Rose, I cannot,” he avoided her eye as he said it.

  “But why? We are already engaged are we not?”

  “Exactly,” Patrick leaned forward ardently. “I fear that I may not have the requisite self-control should I begin to kiss you. Surely your mother has warned you of the dangers of forwardness with a man?”

  Lady Rose blanched, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment. “Well yes, but we are to be married.”

  “And once we are married, I shall be happy to kiss you every day. For now, I must restrain myself.” Patrick took a sip of his tea to hide his triumphant smile.

  Lady Rose’s face fell and Patrick knew she was check mated. He placed his cup down and began to ask the origin of her name. “Are you named for an antecedent?”

  “Oh, I have no idea. I suppose so,” her brow furrowed uncertainly.

  “And what of Lady Melissa? Is she named after an antecedent?”

  Lady Rose frowned at the mention of her sister’s name. “That isn’t really important,” she snapped.

  Patrick leaned forward, staring into his betrothed's eyes. “Why do you say that? You and your sister seem so distant. It is concerning.”

  “Oh, uh, no we are close. It is just, she is just a little wild and it is all we can do to keep her in hand. It gets exhausting sometimes.”

  “Wild? That is not the impression I got from her.”

  “Well, she is. Take my word for it.”

  Patrick inclined his head in acknowledgment. “And where is your ‘wild’ sister now?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Well, I suppose it does not. I was just curious because you said you had to keep her in hand at all times.”

  “She is out. You know she is still in search of a husband and so she likes to attend as many events as possible.”

  That stung. Patrick gripped his cup a little harder than necessary as he struggled manfully not to ask where exactly she was.

  Lady Melissa would not have volunteered for this. Patrick thought grimly. They have to be forcing her to go.

  The thought of another man sniffing around his…

  He cut the thought off before it could take him over and force him to get to his feet and demand that Lady Rose tell him where exactly they had sent Lady Melissa.

  “I see. And she goes alone to these events?”

  Lady Rose laughed at that and Patrick wanted to strangle her. “She is quite capable of comporting herself appropriately in company.”

  Patrick opened his mouth to point out that Lady Rose had called her sister wild and needing of a firm hand at all times not two minutes ago, so how could she sit there and say she was now capable of comporting herself in public? But he realized that he would be arguing for the sake of it and it would serve no useful purpose. Instead, he finished his tea as quickly as possible and got to his feet.

  “I want to thank you sincerely for the hospitality,” he said to Lady Rose. “But I must take my leave of you now.”

  Lady Rose got to her feet as well. “But why? It is still early!”

  “I apologize, but I have a prior appointment I cannot forego.”

  “Oh,” Lady Rose was the very picture of disappointment. Patrick might have felt badly about that if he was not too busy seething about
Lady Melissa.

  He reached for her gloved hand and kissed the air above it. “My Lady,” he murmured before striding out of the room as fast as he could. He would go to the recital and make discreet inquiries there. Somebody would have seen Lady Melissa or know where she was.

  They had to, otherwise Patrick would go out of his mind.

  * * *

  Melissa sighed, leaning back in her seat and fidgeting, looking for a comfortable way to get through the caterwauling that was Lady Katherine Egbert’s idea of singing. The girl was newly returned for the season from India where her father was the viceroy. Clearly, she was used to being kowtowed to, because no one had ventured to let her know that she could not sing. Judging by her smug expression, she must have thought she had a voice like the angels.

  Melissa wanted to get to her feet, stride to the piano and fling her off. She looked around to see if she was alone in this opinion and found that most of the room was not even paying attention to the recital. Debutantes had their heads together, probably whispering about the eligible bachelors in the room. The bachelors meanwhile were drowning their sorrows in the freely-available gin.

  The hosts at least were kind enough not to expect their guests to get through this without help. As her eyes swept across the room, they came to a stop, and caught on the figure of a man, leaning back in his seat and watching her with no effort at pretense.

  No.

  He was supposed to be spending the evening with her sister.

  What are you doing here?

  She flipped her eyes back to find that he was still staring at her. She hesitated, wondering what to do and then got smoothly to her feet. She nodded at the people on her right and left before gliding gracefully to the door. Undoubtedly, they would assume she was seeking the withdrawing room. She flicked Lord Bergon a glance just as she reached the door and turned right, slipping quietly into the hothouse proper.

  The room was like an artificial jungle with climbing vines and plants that gave off the various scents such as Arabian Jasmine and Hyacinth. She crept down one aisle, breathing in the various fragrances, trying to calm her frayed nerves.

  What is Lord Bergon doing here?

  She looked impatiently toward the door, hoping he would hurry up and come so she could ask him.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” the voice came from behind her and she jumped, not having heard anyone come in. She pirouetted on her heel to face him, lips pursed.

  “Lord Bergon. How nice to see you again.”

  “I hardly expected that you would be here. The Pickerings are not that highly regarded in society.”

  Melissa shrugged. “Well, my mother thought it was a suitable place to spend my evening.”

  Lord Bergon’s eyes lit with understanding. “So, it’s a punishment.”

  “One might call it that if they wanted to be vulgar.”

  He huffed a laugh and took a step closer. “What would you call it?”

  “A lesson in humility perhaps?” her mouth twisted involuntarily and she looked away.

  “What did you do to deserve this lesson?” he asked, taking another step closer.

  Melissa sighed. “My mother was unhappy to learn that I confronted you about...”

  “Oh, she found out?”

  “She was waiting for me when I arrived home.”

  The Marquess hissed in sympathy. “Is that why you stopped going to the market in the mornings too?”

  Melissa tensed, the color draining from her cheeks. She felt slightly faint. “I beg your pardon?” her voice was much too high not to betray her.

  He took another step closer, hand flicking her cheek. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me,” he whispered, his breath fanning across her nose. They were so close she could feel the warmth radiating off him.

  I should move away. She thought even as her feet seemed glued to the floor.

  His head came closer to hers.

  “Uuh!” The breath left her body in a whoosh and she was unable to breathe in because his mouth was covering hers. His soft lips pressed down upon hers, his wet tongue flicking at her lips as if it could persuade them to open if it was subtle enough. She stared at him, eyes wide open as his mouth moved against hers, a curious sound emanating from his throat, halfway between a growl and a whimper.

  She did not know what to do.

  Her knees felt curiously weak and she had to lean on the table behind her for they refused to support her weight anymore. His hair tickled her forehead and she could feel his hands framing her hips with the slightest of touches.

  She made a pleading sound, somewhere in her throat and he startled away, eyes wide with horror.

  “Forgive me.”

  Chapter 11

  Reluctance

  Patrick could not fathom what the matter was with him. He did not seem to be in complete control of his faculties. That was the only acceptable explanation for his behavior.

  Seeing Lady Melissa amongst the begonias, her light-blue gown complementing the aurulent hue of her skin, cinched so tight at the waist and spreading out luxuriantly at her hips.

  His fingers itched with the need to touch.

  He knew she had expected him to follow her here. He wasn’t sure why she wanted that, but he knew that he wanted his hands on her. It was like a compulsion–one he could barely control. He was kissing her before he could really think about it, her partly-open mouth an invitation he could not spurn.

  But then she made a sound in which he heard the fear and he was horrified. He stepped back, removing his hands from her body.

  What are you doing, Patrick? The low, disappointed sounding tone of the voice in his head sounded exactly like his grandfather.

  “Forgive me,” he mumbled, unable to look her in the eye.

  She drew in a shaky breath. “Forgive you for what?”

  “I...” Patrick just stared at Lady Melissa, her eyes downcast, chest heaving. He did not know if she was afraid or aroused.

  “Lady Melissa?”

  She lifted her lashes, favoring him with a hazel gaze. He felt he might drown in the liquid pools of her eyes. “Yes?” she asked ever so quietly.

  He swallowed, his throat making a clicking sound. “What is it you want from me?” the last bit came out as plaintively as he felt.

  She lifted her chin, her eyes never leaving his. “I want you.”

  Her words were simple, yet they cut him to the quick. He was unable to hold back his answer. “I want you too.”

  Their gazes locked and time stopped. A magnetic pull seemed to propel Patrick forward and by the looks of it, Lady Melissa was affected by the same phenomenon. Their lips met, softly, gently, and then truly, madly, deeply. Patrick’s tongue was so far down Lady Melissa’s throat that it was possible she had bitten it off. His hands wandered along the silky folds of her gown, following the sinuous line of her body.

  He knew he shouldn’t, but his body rebelled against his mind and went its own way. It did not help that Lady Melissa was pressed tightly against him, her hands snaking around his neck, her body arched in submission. There was only so much temptation he could resist.

  A loud clap had them breaking apart in discomfiture. They stared at each other in horror before both turning to face the doorway. Their eyes searched frantically for what–or who–had made the noise but there was nobody they could see.

  “We should get back to the recital,” Patrick said quietly. Lady Melissa nodded her agreement. He let her go first, needing a moment to get himself back under control. He waited ten minutes, took a deep breath and followed Lady Melissa back to the recital.

  * * *

  Breakfast was a buffet which meant that Melissa could get away with eating little. Ever since the interruption of their kissing session, she’d been on tenterhooks, quite sure that somebody would come up and expose her to the entire company. She jumped every time someone moved suddenly or walked past her. It was nerve wracking.

  “Good morning,” a deep baritone said from just behi
nd her ear. She almost dropped her plate.

  “Uh...” she replied before turning to see Lord Bergon smiling softly at her. “Should you be speaking to me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I speak to you?” he seemed honestly puzzled.

  “Because...” Melissa widened her eyes at him significantly. He simply raised an eyebrow and let out a hearty laugh.