Gambling on the Duke's Daughter

by Diana Bold

  One of the servants informed Dylan the duke was in the kitchen with Jonathan. Dylan headed in the direction the man indicated and found Jonathan stretched out on the floor, still unconscious. The duke paced around his prone body.

  “I should have let you kill him,” the duke muttered without preamble. “He would wake up on a slow boat to China if he weren’t the Marquess of Langley’s son.”

  “It doesn’t matter whose son he is,” Dylan asserted. “He has to pay for what he’s done.”

  The duke nodded. “You’re right. I’ll insist Langley banish him. The marquess won’t be happy about it—Jonathan is his heir—but I’m sure he’ll agree it’s the only possible way of making amends. God forbid we should have to drag this matter into the courts.”

  “God forbid,” Dylan agreed. Enough scandal and gossip surrounded Natalia already. A sensational trial would only make things worse.

  Clayton nudged Jonathan’s hip with the toe of one polished black boot, as though he wanted to kick him a few times. “Well, let’s just try to put all this unpleasantness behind us, shall we? The wedding is in less than two days.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  On the morning of June third, Dylan stood before the mirror in Basingstoke’s guest suite and struggled to arrange his recalcitrant cravat. Julian had offered him the use of a manservant, but after about two minutes of the man’s stiff and unsmiling company, Dylan had sent him away. He was nervous enough already.

  “Do you need a hand with that?”

  His brother’s voice jarred Dylan out of his nervous thoughts. Stunned, he let his hands fall from the starched fabric. He met Michael’s gaze in the full-length mirror, instantly defensive. “What are you doing here?”

  “Basingstoke told me about the wedding. I hope you don’t mind if I attend? After all, it isn’t every day a man’s only brother gets married.”

  Dylan forgot all about his neckpiece and turned around. He met his brother’s gaze head-on and realized how much he’d hated to be the cause of the rift between them. “I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

  Michael shrugged and shook his head. “Words said in anger. I didn’t mean them.”

  Dylan managed a smile of his own, divested of his tremendous load of guilt. “I’m glad to hear that, Michael. God, you can’t imagine how happy I am that you’re here.”

  “I couldn’t let you go through the most important day of your life without a single member of your family by your side.” Michael stepped forward and tied Dylan’s cravat with crisp efficiency. “I’m sorry, but Father refused to come. He’s still furious you managed to do what I couldn’t. I told him it’s his own fault he’s lost Natalia’s dowry. That if he hadn’t driven you away, you might have been willing to help him.”

  “What about you?” Dylan picked up the light gray morning jacket that completed his wedding ensemble and shrugged into it, careful not to meet his brother’s gaze. “Are you still angry with me?”

  “I regret having to marry Emma Marks.” Michael gave a bitter laugh. “But I feel nothing for Lady Natalia. We really don’t suit. She would never have cared for me the way she cares for you.”

  “Perhaps you should take a closer look at Miss Marks.” Dylan flashed his brother a speculative look and wondered if the flamboyant American was exactly what he needed. Maybe she could get him to bend a little. Michael needed to have a little fun and learn not to take everything so damned seriously. “I met her, you know. She’s a very interesting woman.”

  Michael snorted, the most ungentlemanly sound Dylan had ever heard from him. “I suppose so—if crass, low-bred commoners appeal to you.”

  Dylan grinned. “You’re such a snob, Michael. The girl can’t help not being born an aristocrat.”

  “You’re right.” Michael gave a reluctant laugh. “I haven’t made much of an effort to get to know her. We’ve never even spoken.”

  “Well, perhaps you should introduce yourself. You never know what might happen.” Dylan went back to the mirror and gave his appearance one last critical glance. “I think it would be a very fine thing, being in love with your own wife.”

  He hoped such a thing was possible—prayed Natalia could learn to care for him again.

  “Well, I doubt that will happen in my case, but it seems as though you’ve got something special with Lady Natalia. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

  Dylan smiled at his brother once again. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much Michael’s absence pained him. Bless Basingstoke for his interference. “Thank you for coming. It makes all the difference.”

  NATALIA’S WEDDING WAS supposed to be brief and impersonal, performed by a clergyman in her father’s extravagant gold salon. But when Natalia entered the room on her father’s arm, she discovered Clarice had managed a small miracle, given the short amount of time.

  Thousands of white roses accented the gold and white décor. Elegant floral arrangements covered every surface and filled the heavy air with their sweet perfume.

  Although still morning, dozens of candles burned on the small altar where the clergyman waited. They provided a romantic ambiance with their flickering light.

  Only Michael, Basingstoke, Clarice, and Natalia’s father were in attendance. The Earl of Warren had not come, and she wondered what sort of man refused to attend his own son’s wedding.

  But all thoughts about the guests, or lack of them, drifted away when she caught her first glimpse of her future husband. Dylan stood to the clergyman’s left, dressed in an elegant morning suit of the palest gray. His dark hair had been ruthlessly tamed, and his pale eyes glittered with appreciation as he took in Natalia’s elaborate, beaded white gown.

  “You take my breath away,” he told her as the duke gave him her hand.

  His sweet words held a ring of truth. “Thank you,” she whispered. Heat rose in her cheeks as Dylan’s strong fingers closed on hers.

  The clergyman smiled and then cleared his throat. Solemnly, he read the words that would bind Dylan and Natalia together for the rest of their lives. All too soon, he reached the heart of the ceremony.

  “Do you, Dylan Patrick Blake, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

  Patrick. His middle name was Patrick. Natalia tucked that little bit of information away for future reference. This was yet another thing she hadn’t known about her future husband.

  “I do.” Dylan held Natalia’s gaze, the moment fraught with promise. Natalia found herself drowning in the depths of his turbulent gray eyes.

  “Do you, Natalia Anastasia Sinclair, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  “I do.” Natalia promised to love and honor Dylan Blake in a trembling voice. Such a huge vow to fit inside two tiny words.

  “You may kiss your bride,” the clergyman announced, breaking the spell.

  Dylan blinked, and then slowly lowered his mouth to hers. The tenderness of his chaste kiss melted some of the anger she’d been trying so hard to hang on to. The small crowd of guests gave a spatter of applause.

  She was now Mrs. Dylan Blake.

  DYLAN COULDN’T TEAR his gaze away from his beautiful bride, who was resplendent in white lace and satin. Her intricate hairstyle left longer silky tendrils curling down her back. Diamonds sparkled at her throat and neck, but her emerald eyes far outshone such paltry treasures.

  He still couldn’t believe she was actually his.

  There had been a moment, there at the altar, when she’d given him an unguarded look filled with such sweet promise... And kissing her again had been sheer heaven.

  As they turned away from the clergyman to accept the congratulations of their small circle of guests, Dylan held fast to her hand, unwilling to let her go.

  Excitement pulsed through him at the thought of the night to come. Unfortunately, he still had to get through the wedding breakfast and then the first leg of the long trip to Edinburgh. He regretted having decided to start the trip today, but he wanted to get to Aldabaran as s
oon as possible.

  NATALIA DRIFTED THROUGH the wedding breakfast in a daze. The fine champagne Basingstoke had provided for the celebration went straight to her head and relaxed her for the first time in days.

  She was grateful for the tipsy detachment. Otherwise, she would have burst into tears. All her life, she’d imagined her wedding day, and this wasn’t at all how she’d planned it.

  She’d expected her special day to be a huge formal affair, with hundreds of people laughing and wishing her well. Instead, only these few friends and family members had attended, and the atmosphere was far from festive.

  Even her groom was quiet and subdued. Although every time she turned her head, she found him watching her.

  At last, the interminable breakfast came to an end. The small group adjourned to the parlor, where her father and the duchess presented her with an intricately carved ivory box that contained all her mother’s jewels. The gift touched her, but it still didn’t make the whole thing seem real.

  Then the moment she’d dreaded arrived. Dylan wanted to leave directly for Scotland, and she was forced to say goodbye to her father and Clarice.

  She embraced the duchess tightly. “I’ll miss you so much,” she whispered as she inhaled Clarice’s scent of lavender and sweetness.

  “Everything will work out for the best,” Clarice promised her. “Write to me every day.”

  “I will.” She tried to smile through her tears.

  Her father came next, looking worried and grim. “I hope you made the right choice, daughter. God knows I intended so much more for you.”

  “He’s a good man.” Natalia found herself defending Dylan despite everything that had happened. “Don’t worry, Father. I’ll be fine.”

  He nodded, then returned to Clarice’s side.

  Sherbourne approached her next, while Dylan and Basingstoke said their goodbyes on the other side of the room. “Congratulations. You’ve managed to achieve something people in our class rarely do. You’ve married for love.”

  Love. She looked away, embarrassed. This man had heard her say those damning words. He’d seen her locked in Dylan’s passionate embrace.

  He should have been at her side today. She almost wished he was. At least with him, she would have always known where she stood. He would never have made her heart race and her breath catch. He was far too proper to feel such a crass emotion as love.

  “Dylan married me for my dowry. It had nothing whatsoever to do with love.”

  “I wouldn’t be so certain of that. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Sherbourne lowered his voice. “He has a good heart. He just needs someone to care about. I know he’s hurt you, but I think if you give him a chance, he’ll never let you down again.”

  “I wish that were true.” The picture he painted of his brother resembled the one she secretly held in her heart, and she desperately wanted to believe he knew Dylan well enough to be right.

  Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for your kind words. They mean a great deal to me.”

  He flushed, obviously taken aback. “My brother is a lucky man. A very lucky man.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Natalia and Dylan set off for Aldabaran in a fine coach that Basingstoke had loaned them. Dylan was grateful for his friend’s generosity. It would have been impossible to have a meaningful conversation with his wife if they were surrounded by strangers.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to have a meaningful conversation when they were alone, either. Before they even reached the outskirts of London, Natalia turned her face away, curled into a protective little ball on the opposite seat, and went to sleep.

  At least she pretended to sleep. He had his doubts. She was probably faking it to avoid talking to him.

  In truth, he could use a nap as well. He’d spent the previous night pacing in his suite of rooms at Basingstoke’s, wondering if he’d made the right decision. Could he ever earn Natalia’s forgiveness?

  How could he bear it if she kept him at arm’s length forever? Perhaps her reticence would not hurt so much if he’d never gotten to know her. But they’d had that one magical evening together, and he feared he’d spend the rest of his life trying to recreate it.

  Would she even allow him to consummate their vows? God, what would he do if she turned him away? Would he be forced to eventually turn to another woman?

  His heart rebelled at the very thought. He didn’t want to take a mistress. He wanted his wife.

  He sighed, and then shifted in his seat in an attempt to wake her, but she didn’t move a muscle. In the end, her utter stillness gave her away. If she truly slept, her body would sway in rhythm with the coach.

  He stared out the window for a while, but his frustration grew with each passing mile. He couldn’t stand her silence. He had to do something.

  “I think there are a few things we need to talk about.” He spoke casually, as though they’d been in the middle of a conversation. She flinched, and he grinned with satisfaction. “I know you’re not sleeping,” he continued. “And I wish you’d stop pretending you were.”

  For a long moment, she didn’t move. He had to restrain himself from reaching across the coach and shaking her. At last, she sat up, brushed a few wayward strands of hair out of her remarkable green eyes, and met his gaze. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

  Mollified, he searched for the right words. “I’d like to work this out, Natalia. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “You don’t need to do anything. I realize this fiasco isn’t entirely your fault.” She sounded bitter and resigned. So unlike the vibrant happy girl he’d met just a few short weeks ago.

  “It is my fault. All of it.” He hated this feeling of helplessness. He had no idea what to do or say that could make things right.

  She shook her head. “It was my own choices, my own decisions that brought me to this. I was such a fool.” She blinked rapidly, as though trying to hold back tears. “I’m afraid to trust myself.”

  It slew him to know she felt that way. He didn’t want her to feel foolish about herself. He wanted her to regain her wonderful impetuous spark. He wanted her to trust herself again. He wanted her to trust him.

  “It’s not wrong to be impulsive and passionate. Do you think you’re the only girl who ever stole away from a party to kiss a man in the dark?”

  “Perhaps not. But I should have known better.”

  He raked his hand through his hair and laughed. “I should have known better, too. I should’ve walked away the moment I realized Michael wanted you.”

  “But you couldn’t.” She broke eye contact and sank back against the velvet seat, staring out the window at the passing scenery. “You had your precious wager to think about.”

  He’d known this was coming, sooner or later. Perhaps it was better to have the wound out in the open, where the blister could be lanced. They’d already let things fester and boil beneath the surface for too long.

  “I never meant to hurt you.” He wanted to reach out to her, hold her the way she’d held him. He wanted to show her he could offer comfort as well as passion.

  “What did you think would happen? You knew I’d find out. You didn’t even try to keep it a secret.” Her anger was a vast improvement over the bitter resignation.

  “The gamble seemed harmless enough at the time. I only had to dance with you a few times. Nothing that would harm your reputation. I planned to collect my winnings and never look back. But then I met you, and I knew I couldn’t do it. I wanted far more than that.”

  “Why?” She held his gaze, her green eyes filled with reproach. “I’ve heard the rumors. I know about all your conquests. No woman has ever captured your attention for more than a moment or two. All you wanted was my dowry.”

  “No,” he murmured. “You sell yourself short.”

  “Admit it,” Natalia insisted. “In a few weeks, you’ll want someone else, and I’ll be nothing but a burden to you.”
<
br />   He shook his head and prayed she was wrong. He needed this marriage to work. The alternative—an endless, empty future—was too awful to contemplate. He couldn’t bear to go back to the way things had been. He needed his life to have some meaning.

  For better or worse, she was it.

  “Despite the circumstances, I didn’t take our wedding vows lightly. I won’t look elsewhere. Not unless you intend to shut me out completely.” He met her gaze head-on. “Do you?”

  She blushed and closed her eyes. “No. I didn’t take those vows lightly either.”

  “Good.” He sighed and tried to relax. The entire conversation had taken much more energy than he’d expected, but there was still one more thing he wanted her to know. “I knew you were different the moment we met. When you looked into my eyes and really saw me. Not the hero my father wanted on display for his parties. Not the fearless captain my men looked up to, but the real me. The one no one else had ever tried to see before.”

  She gave him a wistful smile. Then she crossed the aisle in a swish of silk skirts and sat beside him. Threading her fingers through his, she stared deep into his eyes. “Show me that man again. I miss him.”

  “I will.” Her generosity stunned him. He knew how much it cost her to move those few feet.

  They passed the next few hours in silence, watching the scenery pass, but she never took her hand away.

  He held on tight. As far as meaningful conversations went, this had definitely been a good beginning.

  BY THE TIME THEY REACHED the inn, Natalia was drooping with exhaustion. Although Basingstoke’s coach was well sprung, the road had been rough. Her entire body ached from the jarring ride.

  Dylan went inside to procure them some rooms while she remained in the coach. She needed a few moments alone to gather her thoughts. The hours spent holding his hand in companionable silence had rattled her far more than she wanted to admit.