Duke and Duplicity (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 15)

by Emma V. Leech

  “I’m dreaming,” she said, her voice faint. “Only my addled brain could come up with a story so utterly…utterly….” She gave a strangled laugh and then threw her arms about Ranleigh, who held her tight. “It’s over,” she said, sobbing into his waistcoat. “It’s finally over. I hardly know what to do, what to think.”

  Ranleigh tilted her chin so she looked up at him and smoothed the tears from her face, staring at her with such adoration that she only sobbed harder.

  “Yes, you do,” he said, his voice chiding. “You’ll damn well put me out of my misery and make an honest man of me. Preferably before you give me a nervous collapse.”

  “I can do that,” she said, forcing the words between sobs and hiccoughing laughter. “Oh, yes, please.”

  Chapter 20

  “Wherein the bride wore boots.”

  Archie stared at herself in the looking glass, turning this way and that. Ranleigh had refused to tell her how much he’d spent with his tailor. Archie suspected it was a great deal more than was the going rate to soothe the old devil’s outrage at being asked to outfit a woman. However, his client was the Duke of Ranleigh, and there was always the threat of him taking his business elsewhere… so it had been agreed upon.

  Actually, the grizzled old buzzard had been perfectly amicable once he’d gotten over the initial shock, but then Ranleigh had probably paid him to be amicable too. Oh, well. He certainly knew his business.

  The coat fit her like a glove. There were two dozen more, all in different colours and cloths. Likewise, the endless pairs of trousers, breeches, and pantaloons which Ranleigh thoroughly approved of. Then there were the waistcoats. Waistcoats in silk and satin, embroidered, striped and spotted and checked, every single one with dazzling colours and no expense spared. He’d even bought her a violet one, though expressly forbidden her to wear it outside of the house. As if she would!

  God, she loved that man.

  She loved him so much she was prepared to be utterly selfish and marry him, despite the fact the scandal and gossip would follow him for the rest of his days. He seemed remarkably content with the situation.

  Archie went to the door of her room at the sound of a soft knock, to find Selina waiting for her.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, excitement in her voice. “Everyone’s here.”

  Archie swallowed and held her hands out. “I guess so,” she said, looking down at herself.

  “You look quite magnificent,” Selina said, approving as she walked a circle around her. “My word, Archie, that waistcoat!”

  “It is something, isn’t it?” she agreed, smoothing her hand over the embroidered silk. It was covered in flowers in shades of yellow and blue. “I didn’t want to carry a bouquet, but I wanted flowers, so… It was Ranleigh’s idea, of course,” she added with a smile.

  “Perfect,” Selina said, giving a happy sigh. “And now you’d best come along before the poor man has a breakdown. I’ve never seen anyone so nervous.”

  “Really?” Archie looked at her in surprise and then frowned a little. “He’s not having second thoughts, is he? I mean—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Selina said, rolling her eyes. “The poor man is pacing the floor with impatience. Second thoughts, indeed!”

  Before Archie could say another word, she was taken by the hand and towed forcibly from the room.

  “All right, all right. I’m coming,” she muttered, hurrying in Selina’s wake.

  Selina, however, would not let her go until she reached the door of the grand salon, which had been repurposed for the wedding. Will was waiting for her and held out his arm with a smile.

  “Well, my friend,” he said, looking her over and giving an approving nod. “Ready to become the Duchess of Ranleigh?”

  Archie blanched and swallowed hard. “Honestly, I’ve been trying not to think about that part.”

  Will chuckled. “Nonsense, you’ll outrank me and enjoy every moment of it. I’m quite prepared for you to be abominably high in the instep from now on.”

  “Oh, Will!” she said, scandalised. “As if I would.”

  She took his arm, snorting with amusement as he continued to chuckle. Archie looked up as he placed his hand over hers.

  “Thank you,” he said, serious now. “For asking me to give you away. I… I’m very touched.”

  Reaching up on tiptoe Archie kissed his cheek. “Of course,” she said, smiling at him. “Your friendship kept me going when I felt like giving up, and you were willing to face the scandal to protect me. I know just how much that would have cost you. I won’t ever forget it, Will.”

  Will made a throat clearing sound and squared his shoulders. “Enough of that,” he said briskly. “Or you’ll have us both blubbing.”

  “If you’ve quite finished,” called a rather terse voice from inside the room. “I am waiting.”

  “Are you quite certain you want to marry him?” Will said, raising one eyebrow.

  “Quite,” Archie replied, struggling to keep a straight face.

  Will reached to adjust her cravat just a touch. He gave a sigh. “Oh, very well, then,” he said, shaking his head, and led her down the aisle.

  ***

  “An old married man then,” Alex said, grinning as he came to shake Ranleigh’s hand after the ceremony. “Welcome to the club.”

  Ranleigh shook his hand, smirking a little. “Less of the old, thank you. I’m younger than you.”

  Alex tutted, shaking his head. “Good Lord, you’re hanging onto that, aren’t you? It’s only three years, you know, hardly a decade.”

  “Touchy, touchy.”

  He grinned as Alex gave him a despairing look and then caught sight of Archie. Her head was thrown back and she was laughing, clutching at Erasmus’ arm and roaring at whatever most likely filthy joke her friend had just shared with her. Likely at his expense, too. Not that he cared. As long as she was with him, and happy, he’d play the clown for her if she wanted him to.

  “That’s why you avoided me, wasn’t it?”

  Ranleigh looked up to see Alex watching him, a shrewd glint in his grey eyes.

  “What?” he asked, dragging his attention back to his friend. “Oh.” He shrugged and gave a rueful smile. “I’m not proud of it, but… well, it was hard to be around you when you were obviously so blissfully married.” At this moment Alex caught sight of his wife Céleste. who looked up from her conversation with Selina and blew him a kiss. Ranleigh snorted. “It was quite nauseating, if you want the truth.”

  Alex usually stern face softened as he gazed at his beautiful wife. “I can’t deny it, and I don’t give a damn.”

  “Yes, well,” Ranleigh said, amused. “I’m going to thoroughly enjoy getting my own back.”

  “You do that,” Alex replied, patting him on the back. “She’s quite delightfully unusual. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

  “Me either,” Ranleigh admitted, allowing himself to feel rather smug. “Thank you, by the way, for everything you did.”

  Alex shrugged. “I didn’t do anything other than put you onto Pelham. Glad it all worked out. It ought to have done. He’s a good fellow, though I admit I think this job took him a little by surprise.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Ranleigh said with a snort. “Is he related to Randolph Pelham? Viscount Cheam?”

  “That’s right. He’s the youngest son. Doesn’t get on with his father, so the fellow cut him off. Hence the need to earn a crust.”

  “Ah,” Ranleigh said. “Yes, that would explain it.”

  “Blackehart likes him,” he added.

  Ranleigh raised one eyebrow. “I take it that’s a ringing endorsement?”

  “Yes,” Alex said, grinning. “It is.”

  The wedding breakfast was loud and mercifully short, and Ranleigh escaped with his new wife at the earliest opportunity.

  “Well then, Duchess,” he said, holding both her hands once he’d closed the bedroom door. “Alone at last.”

  Archie grinned at
him. “We’ve been alone together every night for some weeks now.”

  Ranleigh shook his head, his expression grave. “Ah, but that was just practising. Now we’re married. It’s different.”

  “Practising?” Archie queried, looking a little alarmed. “What does that mean?”

  Ranleigh gave a theatrical laugh and waggled his eyebrows at her before sweeping her up in his arms. “It means there’s no escape now, my pretty. You’re in my power and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Really?” Archie asked, hooking her arms about his neck.

  “No, not really,” he said, sighing and giving her a reproving look. “You are well aware that I’m quite under your thumb, but you might at least play along.”

  “Oh,” she said, brightening. “In that case….” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Oh, oh, unhand me you brute. Please don’t take me back to your lair and ravish me.”

  Ranleigh looked down at her, frowning. “I don’t have a lair.”

  She shrugged and pursed her lips, considering this. “Well, the bed then. We can draw the curtains; if it’s dark it will seem lair-like.”

  “Good idea.” Ranleigh strode to the bed and flung her down in a heap. “Prepare to be ravished,” he intoned in a thundering voice.

  Archie collapsed into hysterics. “No, no….” she spluttered. “You can’t do it yet, you have to pull the curtains.”

  Raleigh huffed and began unhooking the curtains and tugging them around. “Do all villains have such details to contend with? It rather takes away from the drama.”

  “Oh, but you’re doing very well,” Archie said, her tone soothing.

  “Thank you,” he said, grinning as he pulled the last curtain into place and climbed in beside her. “There.”

  “Ranleigh,” she said, sounding as if she was struggling not to laugh as he pulled the gap shut behind him.

  “Yes?”

  “We’ve still got our boots on.”

  “Well, damnation!”

  ***

  Archie’s fingers trailed back and forth through the dark hair on her husband’s chest. She’d been married for a good few hours now, but she thought it would take a deal longer before she got used to the idea. Possibly a decade or two. The thought made her smile like a fool. That the ton likely never would was an idea that frightened her a little, but Ranleigh didn’t care a jot, so… why should she? She was a girl from nowhere, though her family had been respectable enough. There was no denying, however, that she was not respectable and never would be, and Ranleigh loved her for it.

  She’d married a duke.

  Archie mulled that idea around for a moment, considering it, and then dismissing it. She hadn’t. She’d married Ranleigh, who just happened to be a duke. He couldn’t help it after all. Just like she couldn’t help being… Archie. It was what they were, for better or worse.

  Better, she decided, finding she was still smiling. Definitely better.

  “I like that look on you,” Ranleigh’s voice was soft in the dim light behind the curtains. He traced a finger over the curve of her lips. “You should smile always.”

  Archie nipped at his finger. “I’ll do my best, but as long as you are around it ought not be a problem.”

  Ranleigh shifted, turning her onto her back and gazing down at her, dark eyes intent. “I never thought I’d find this,” he said, wonder in his voice as he traced the line of her jaw. “I saw Alex and Céleste and I was so damn envious because it’s so rare, Archie. Love like that, it’s… it’s special and extraordinary, and I was so bloody alone before you came into my life. Don’t ever change, don’t try to fit in or stop people talking, because you’re a bloody miracle and I love every inch of you.”

  “Every inch?” she said, smiling now.

  “Mm-hm,” he said, bending and kissing her neck. “Every. Inch.” He tugged the covers down and kissed a path across her chest and found her breast, his lips brushing against her nipple. “Especially this bit,” he murmured, before moving to repeat the motion on the other. “This bit too.”

  She shivered as he carried on, kissing a path to her navel and dipping his tongue inside until she squirmed and shrieked. “This bit is rather good,” he added, chuckling now before disappearing under the covers. “There’s a bit down here somewhere,” came a muffled voice as Archie bit down on her fist, torn between hysteria and desire as he continued to kiss her. “Ah yes, here it is.”

  His tongue, warm and wet and firm swept over her as her breath snagged in her throat.

  “Oh, Ranleigh!”

  “I think you mean honey cakes,” came the muted reply.

  Strong hands held her hips firm and stopped her ability to writhe. He tasted her again, teasing and tormenting the delicate flesh as he pleasured her, stealing her breath and making her cry out and clutch at the bed covers.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice dark and wicked under the covers.

  “No!” she exclaimed, outraged at the idea.

  She could feel the curve of his mouth against the soft skin of her thigh as he turned his head and kissed her there.

  “Command me then. Tell me what you’d have of me.”

  Her cheeks flushed at the idea, but she was damned if embarrassment would stop her getting what she wanted.

  “Don’t stop, you terrible man. Kiss me.”

  “Where?” he asked with quiet deliberation, though she’d known it wouldn’t be enough.

  “There,” she ground out, a little frustrated now.

  “Here?” he asked innocently as he moved up to kiss her stomach.

  “Oh! Wretch, you’re doing it on purpose.”

  His terrible chuckle was the last straw. Sinking her hands into his hair, she pushed him down, guiding his head where she needed him to be.

  “There!”

  “Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so?”

  To her relief he obeyed, though she kept a hold of his hair, just in case. This time there was no teasing, however, and she rushed towards her peak as the sensation became overwhelming. Insensible with pleasure she cried out, clutching at him as he held her still, easing every last throb of her climax from her sensitive skin.

  She was still breathless and dazed when he reappeared, flinging the covers from his head and taking his place between her thighs. In one swift movement he was inside her and Archie wrapped herself around him, crying out with a new wave of delight before the last had time to fade away. She held onto his powerful shoulders as he sighed with contentment.

  Archie gazed up at him, blissful and happier than she’d ever believed possible.

  “If we have a boy, what shall we call him?”

  Ranleigh paused, staring at her in surprise. “I thought you didn’t want children?”

  Archie frowned, marvelling at everything he’d been prepared to give up for her, realising in that moment that he’d believed her words about never wanting children, and had married her anyway. Her heart swelled with the enormity of it and she shook her head, eyes glittering with tears.

  “I only said that to make you change your mind. So you wouldn’t want to marry me,” she said, the astonishment audible in her words. “I… I’d like to have your children. Our children.”

  Ranleigh’s breath caught as he stared down at her in wonder, and then he smiled, a soul stealing smile that made her chest ache with happiness. “I think I’d like them too,” he said. “In fact, I can’t wait to meet them. So, let’s finish what we started, eh?”

  “Yes, please, Ranleigh,” she said, sighing and giving herself over to pleasure. “I think that’s very sensible.”

  Epilogue

  “Wherein the ton is given fair warning.”

  “They’re staring at us,” Archie hissed, feeling the hair on the back of her neck prickle. They were walking down Bond Street, at the hour when the rich and famous, and infamous, paraded their wealth and flaunted the latest fashion.

  “Of course they’re staring at us,” Ranleigh rep
lied, arching one eyebrow at her in surprise. “We’re fabulous and extraordinary.”

  They’d been married a week, and this was their first appearance in public. Rumours had been rife, of course, the scandal sheets full of speculation at the announcement of the duke’s marriage to a woman of dubious origins. A widow no less, and—most shocking of all—one that dressed as a man!

  Ranleigh paused, and Archie stopped to look up at him.

  “No regrets?” he asked, his eyes full of understanding and concern.

  Archie looked about her, at faces she didn’t know, staring and speculating, whispering, and then back to her husband. Her smile was genuine and heartfelt. “Not one. Not for a second.”

  He stared at her, and then leaned down, pressing a kiss to her mouth.

  A little startled at being kissed in public, Archie drew in a breath. “Ranleigh,” she whispered, somewhat shocked and more pleased that was likely prudent. “You’re going to make us even more notorious if you keep that up.”

  “We’re already notorious, darling. We may as well enjoy it.”

  Snorting in a most unladylike fashion, and perfectly unrepentant, Archie grinned up at him.

  “Ranleigh!”

  They both turned to see the indignant features of Jeremiah Bagshot hurrying towards them.

  “Oh, Lord,” Ranleigh muttered, pulling Archie a little closer. “Well, I suppose we’d best get it over with.”

  Bagshot pulled up short as he caught sight of Archie arm-in-arm with Ranleigh. A bewildered expression flashed across his face.

  “I know you,” he said, suspicious. “You’re Mr… Mr Anthony?”

  “Archibald,” Ranleigh corrected, sounding a little bored as he flicked an invisible piece of lint from his pristine sleeve. “Though it’s your grace, or duchess, to you, Jeremiah.”

  Jeremiah gaped, doing a rather fine impression of a goldfish, which was only highlighted by the startling orange of his satin waistcoat.

  “You mean to say it’s true? You m-married this….” Bagshot looked Archie up and down in horror, though Archie wasn’t sure if it was her scandalous attire or the fact that Ranleigh had married at all that was more distressing to him.