—From The Dulcet Duke
Chapter 13
Granny Donny didn’t like the new skinny housemaid any more than she liked the fat, flatulent housemaid before her. But she couldn’t concentrate on the help when her granddaughter was on the edge of ruin. Unmarried. With no prospects in sight.
The plan to marry off Ally to a worthy man had come to her a few weeks ago. Or was it months? Days? It was all so confusing! It was the day after waking with that disturbing pain in her right ear, which had gone as quickly as it had come. So strange, that pain. Anyway, it didn’t signify. A phantom pain in the ear; who ever heard of such a ridiculous thing? She had thought maybe it was a tooth. But the pain had gone quickly, and the teeth were still there. Every single one! Eighty-four years old and perfect teeth! She had always been blessed.
But now she felt distracted, as if she’d missed something important. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Since the real pain was gone, though, she didn’t take the pills. Oh, she pretended to. But they never noticed that she slipped them into her sleeve. Silly Alexandra and her endless pills. She wondered if they affected the ficus tree whose dirt she shoved them down into as soon as Ally or the nursemaid was gone. The healthiest tree in London!
Donatella Giordano took another sip of tea as she wondered why she hadn’t seen the necessity of her intervention in the girl’s affairs before. Why ever had she waited so long? The poor dear’s parents were gone—her own daughter and son-in-law, gone! He a scoundrel and she a devoted wife to a man who couldn’t be saved. No one to care for the girl and her future. Except for her, Lady Donatella Giordano!
She did so enjoy action.
If only she wasn’t so confused all the time. Nothing fit the way it should. People came and went. Her daughter. Her son-in-law. She felt as if she saw them around her, but everyone said they weren’t here. She felt as if they were near. It was like living in a dream that almost made sense. Only when she focused on Ally did her head clear.
Help the child.
The country house was empty when it should have been full of generations of Giordanos. Herself, in the parlor, embroidering. Hmm…did she know how to embroider? Of course she must know. A woman of her position. She was just tired, that was all. So hard to focus. What was she thinking about? Oh, yes, how she must take Ally and the duke to the country! How delightful! Her daughter, Lisa, by her side, chatting over tea. Oh, her dear, dear daughter. It seemed as if she had just left.
Where was Lisa again? Why wasn’t she caring for the child if she was here? Donatella squeezed her eyes shut. She had such a headache. It was so hard lately to keep on a happy face. To keep it all straight. But as the family matriarch, it was her job to keep the family intact.
Lisa is in the country, at the family estate. We are going to see her and her dear husband so they can meet Alexandra’s betrothed and I can die in peace, the family united and carrying on into the future.
It was just after seven when Sam arrived at the Plaza. His afternoon in the emergency room after the game (he had played to the end and his team had won 3–2 on his assist off the left wing) had confirmed a bruised rib, a minor injury he’d endured before, but no concussion. A little ice, some ibuprofen, no big deal. Just as long as he didn’t try to breathe too deeply.
Unfortunately, what he was about to do was making him breathe much deeper than he preferred.
A skinny, balding nurse in uniform let him into Granny Donny’s apartment, where the elegant old woman was perched on the edge of a gold couch, taking tea in a gown and gloves. The toes of purple silk beaded slippers peeked out from under her long skirt.
She held out her hand. He obliged with a kiss, then sat next to her, refusing her offer of cakes and Earl Grey. He had put on his best black Armani suit and silk tie, but next to Lady Giordano’s grandeur, he felt like a stablehand.
“I hope you’ve decided to join us in the country,” Granny Donny said. “We have such enjoyment planned. Lawn tennis and quail hunting and whist!”
“How could I refuse whist?” He made a mental note to look up what the bloody hell whist was.
Ally came into the room, and he stood on instinct and bowed. Under her icy stare, he almost lost his resolve.
She nodded at him curtly. “Glad to see you’re still with the living.”
Was he mistaken, or was she a little breathless, too? “Delightful as always,” he said.
They all sat. Ally didn’t touch the tea.
“The duke just told me that he’ll join us in the country, dear! Isn’t that delightful!” Lady Giordano positively beamed.
Ally nodded. “Delightful.”
“I really am joining you,” Sam said to Ally. “To play whist.”
“Good. It will be a pleasure,” Ally said, playing her role.
“No, you don’t understand. I mean, really. I’m coming.”
Ally’s eyes went wide. “Are you? Really?” The bottom had fallen out of her voice.
“Yes.”
“Don’t you have a flooz—?” She stopped herself. “A job?” she substituted.
“I do. In fact, I couldn’t get Monday morning off. A small matter of a photo shoot I have to tend to. But I’ll catch up with you by the afternoon.”
“You will?” Ally was at a loss for words, which pleased him immensely. “Why?” She practically squeaked the word.
“I couldn’t leave two women alone in a carriage to cross such dangerous territory.”
Ally looked like she wanted to kill him, so of course he smiled his most wicked smile. This was going to be fun.
Granny Donny took his hand. “No brigand would dare attack our carriage with you on board, Duke. Your skills with the sword are nothing short of legend.”
Sam stood before Ally could protest his nonexistent sword skills. “I really have to be going. Next time we meet, we shall continue this delightful conversation in the back of Paula’s carriage. Good evening, ladies. Until Monday afternoon, adieu.”
He had her alone in the garden. Her moist lips. The moonlight in her eyes. A lesser man would be merely tempted. A greater man would surely resist. A man like him would indulge, and without regret.
—From The Dulcet Duke
Chapter 14
Ally followed him into the hallway, closing the apartment door behind her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked. She smoothed her vintage yellow dress, as if it were as riled as she was.
“A man of honor doesn’t lie to a gentlewoman,” he said smoothly.
“But you’re not a man of honor.”
“That’s what you think. I’m out to prove you wrong.”
“Why are you doing this, Sam?” Ally asked.
“Because you’re not up to the task of escorting your grandmother back to 1812, much less to Long Island.”
“You think you’re going to protect us from brigands with your invisible sword?”
“No. I’m going to protect your delightful grandmother from you. You wouldn’t know how to show that grand, worthy woman a fun adventure if you tried. Just look how you bungled the dancing in the park.”
“You’re not a noble duke, Sam.” Ally was bright red and flushed over with a mist of perspiration despite the over-air-conditioned hall. “And I’m no sixteen-year-old virgin. I will not allow you to rush in and play hero to my damsel in distress.”
“You can’t stop me,” he said. He liked that she was so upset. It meant that she cared.
The blaze that erupted behind her eyes told him he had her on that point. She said, “You want to come? Fine, come. Actually, it does me the favor of pleasing my grandmother. But that doesn’t mean I’ll play that stupid role. You’ll always be my Veronica, Sam. I don’t fall for men who treat life and other people like they’re disposable.”
“Ah. Is that a challenge? You and me. Four days in a carriage.” He hit the elevator button. “You’ll have no problem resisting my dangerous charms?”
“Four days in a carriage with my eighty-four-year-old
grandmother,” she pointed out.
“Four days for me to prove that I am a gentleman, and you, my dear, are the rogue.” The elevator doors opened.
“Me?”
“Yes. The loner. The one who is lost, cut off from society. I will make you admit that you need me more than you could ever imagine and for reasons that you can’t control. G’day, m’lady.”
He caught the doors before they slid closed, caught her, pulled her to him, and kissed her. Hard. Solidly. Thoroughly. He let her go and she fell away from him, shock on her face. “For old times’ sake,” he said. “Next time, you kiss me.”
The doors closed with a soft click.
He was alone. He sank against the back wall of the elevator, the heat of her lips vibrating across his own.
I found her weakness, and it’s me.
Monday, he’d go on a carriage ride through Brooklyn and beyond with a woman who professed to hate him, her crazy grandmother, a worn-out horse, and a coachman he was starting to suspect might not be what he seemed.
And he couldn’t wait.
Ally slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, catching her breath as if she had escaped a wild animal.
In a way, she had.
There she went again, “stilling her heart.” Ridiculous.
It was lust, and she knew firsthand from her mother what happened when a woman forgot her responsibilities and gave in to lust. Because Sam was dead wrong—Ally was no rogue. He was the rogue that needed taming. And she knew now what his weakness was. She had seen it in his eyes when he addressed her grandmother in the park and then seen it again tonight, as he sipped his tea: He wants to be respected. By me.
I found his weakness, and it’s me.
Ally returned to Granny Donny in the living room. Her grandmother wore her emeralds and diamonds, looking beautiful, defenseless, and wealthy beyond belief. If their trip was anything like The Dulcet Duke, brigands on the road to the country would attack and the duke would save them.
Ha! What would Sam do? Kick the bad guy in the head with a soccer ball? He’d be useless. They were all going to die in a gutter before she even got a chance to be ravaged by him…
Oh, hell. That wasn’t what she meant. But the sizzling memory of his kiss was hard to ignore. She had to be careful. He had challenged her to resist him. Which wouldn’t be a problem.
She deserved a good man.
Whatever the heck a good man was.
And after Sam—with his raw passion, his heat, and the look in his eyes—did she really want a good man?
Or had she already lost herself to a hopeless, unrepentant rogue determined to drive her to ruin?
Or, at least, to Long Island?
Step Two :
Every rogue has something they hold dear.
Take it.
The roads from London to the estate in Derbyshire were filled with bandits, highwaymen, and countless other dangers. One needed a man, a gun, and a great deal of bravery. Princess Alexandra had the latter in great supply. The previous necessities, unfortunately, she had to hire and endure.
—From The Dulcet Duke
Chapter 15
Monday morning, Ally and Mateo helped Granny Donny into the carriage in front of the Plaza. Granny Donny wore her pale blue dress with yellow ribbons and her diamonds. Despite her apprehension, Ally had to admit that her grandmother looked beautiful against the red velvet of the carriage seat.
Granny Donny sat herself primly in the center of the seat and crossed her hands in her lap. “Where is the duke, dear?”
“He’s going to meet us as soon as he’s finished his photo shoot.”
“His what, dear?”
“His, er, as soon as he’s finished touring his estates.”
Ally climbed in beside Granny Donny, nervous, no matter how she tried not to show it. She had been to Brooklyn plenty of times, but, as June had pointed out over the course of the last week, always in a closed, locked car on a freeway. Frankly, she had no idea what to expect on the back roads of Brooklyn, if there were such things as back roads in New York’s most populous borough. In her wakeful hours, unable to sleep, she’d done as much research as she could on their trip. The first few neighborhoods would be spotty but okay since they were so close to Manhattan, full of artists, musicians, and Hasidim. But as they traveled deeper into the borough and beyond, it became harder to know what to expect. She had no idea what they’d find. Or who would find them.
Oh, hell. She was acting as wussy as a nineteenth-century princess. They’d be fine. This was supposed to be a fun adventure. Could Sam be right, that she was too rigid to give her grandmother her wish of fun and fantasy? She was determined to enjoy the ride.
If only the carriage didn’t look so fragile and open. Its chrome railings gleamed against white fiberglass sides. The red velvet seats were plush and luxurious. They might as well just put up a flashing neon sign that read “WE’RE LOADED! ROB US!”
The original plan was to walk Paula at an easy pace of five miles per hour for five hours. Then, after some discussion, she and Mateo had reduced today’s ride to four hours for Granny Donny’s sake—the sitting and jostling in the heat was easier for Paula than for Granny Donny, who had not a drop of Arabian blood in her veins.
But today was truly, dreadfully hot, and they recalculated and decided to shoot for going just past JFK Airport, where Mateo had a friend who could board Paula for the night. The change in plans was fine; Ally had every hotel and motel between them and Lewiston mapped out, as well as the address of every police precinct, every public park, and every public and private horse stable (amazingly, there were four stables in Brooklyn alone). She also had the names and numbers of every acquaintance she had ever had even the slightest contact with who lived along their route programmed into her BlackBerry. She rebooked her and her grandmother at the airport Hilton, pleased with herself for being open to new plans.
See, she wasn’t rigid.
She wrung her hands.
Were they having fun yet?
“I mapped out three different routes,” Ally said to Mateo, handing him sheaves of paper with routes highlighted in yellow. “Some ways are shorter, but some have less elevation—”
Mateo took her maps, but he didn’t look at them. “You let me worry about getting you there. Climb in. Let’s hit the streets.”
Ally caught something new in the set of Mateo’s jaw. Was he nervous?
Ally climbed into the back of the carriage and settled herself next to Granny Donny. “Have you ever taken Paula to Brooklyn before?” she asked Mateo. The rigidity of the coachman’s face was starting to make her sweat.
“No.” Mateo adjusted Paula’s tack.
“Why not?”
He swung himself onto the box and gave the reins a shake while cooing words of encouragement to Paula as they started off in the “wrong” direction, away from her usual route through the park. She hesitated a moment but didn’t protest. Mateo didn’t lose his rigid stance. “Because it’s illegal to take Paula onto the streets of Manhattan during the day,” he said.
Ally’s stomach clenched. “But we’re always out during the day.”
“Just to and from Central Park and her stables.”
Of course. How had Ally not noticed that before? They never had a reason to take Paula anywhere else. She looked back to the line of horses waiting for tourists at the edge of the park.
“Also, it’s illegal to take her over the bridges,” he said as Paula pulled toward the busy Fifth Avenue traffic. “So hold your breath, Princess. We’re going to break some laws.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Ally asked. Break a few laws. No big deal. Just laws. Breaking. Her skin felt chilled despite the repressive heat.
“Because I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew,” Mateo said.
“I wouldn’t have!” Ally felt ill remembering how her parents broke every law in the book, from “harmless” shoplifting after Granny Donny had cut them off from her mo
ney completely for losing too much at the track to sneaking onto the back of busy buses to avoid the fares. Breaking little laws was a slippery slope…
And yet, her grandmother looked so happy as they trotted down Fifth Avenue. This is the trip I promised her. The adventure. I’m going to be the fun one, the one up for adventure.
“Didn’t want to worry you,” Mateo said.
Ally’s heart was beating wildly as she scanned the vicinity for policemen. “Who’s worried?” she said as a new worry occurred to her. “Is the no-horse rule because it’s dangerous for Paula? Is she going to be okay?”
“She’ll be fine. The morning traffic moves so slowly, it’s not the danger of the cars; it’s the police we have to keep an eye on. It’s not a big deal.”
Ally tried to rally her sense of adventure. She could be fun and wild. If only it didn’t make her feel so ill. She wished Sam was there. She felt certain he could talk himself out of any trouble. “Well, at least this couldn’t get any worse,” she said as gamely as she could manage.
And then, it got worse.
“Where’s the duke?” Granny Donny asked again, looking around at the early-morning crush of humanity that streamed through the streets, cutting through the canyons of midtown like water flowing along the path of least resistance. Paula clip-clopped down Fifth Avenue easily, the traffic so slow, she blended right in. Ally kept waiting for a policeman to stop them, but the cops they passed didn’t seem to care about them. Maybe they were as ignorant of the no-horse law as Ally had been.
“Sam’s meeting us later. Work held him up. He’ll be here. He has my cell.”
“Well of course he’ll be here,” Granny Donny said, sinking back onto the seat. “A duke always keeps his word. But he better meet us soon. I won’t leave London without him, no matter how excited I am to see my daughter.”
How to Tame a Modern Rogue Page 11