How to Capture a Duke

by Tina Gabrielle

  He turned away slowly, almost painfully, and reached for the door handle. “I’ll summon your maid.”

  …

  Early the following morning, Tristan pounded on the door of the Piccadilly house with more force than necessary. Lord Jeffries’s butler opened the door on the third knock.

  “Lord Jeffries is still abed, Your Grace,” the butler said, recognizing Tristan on sight.

  “It does not matter to me.” Tristan pushed his way inside and took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor of the fashionable London town home. Spencer’s butler didn’t bother to voice an objection.

  Tristan threw open the door at the end of the hall.

  The man lay in bed, a hand over his eyes. “I said to leave me alone!”

  Tristan strode to the window and jerked open the heavy curtains. Bright sunlight flooded the bedchamber.

  “I shall sack you!” Spencer moved his hand and squinted in the bright light to see Tristan, not his butler.

  “Good morning, cousin.” Tristan folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the frame of the bed.

  “Tristan, Christ!”

  Spencer’s hair stuck up in different directions like straw. His eyes were bloodshot, and his complexion appeared sickly.

  Tristan unfolded his arms and came close. “If you didn’t look like shit, I’d be tempted to bloody your nose.”

  Spencer sat up in bed. “I know why you’re here. But you should know that I had no choice but to tell your wife.”

  “You had a choice. You could have k…k-kept your mouth s…s-hut.”

  “Maybe. But she has a right to know.”

  “It was not your place to tell her.”

  Spencer rubbed a hand down his face. “Not entirely true, is it? You keep reminding me that if you don’t have children, then I get the dukedom.”

  “So?”

  “I felt an obligation to inform her. If you had properly told her, then this would not have come to pass.”

  “She is my wife,” Tristan growled. “My desire to beat sense into you is growing.”

  Rather than take the warning, Spencer met his angry gaze. “If you do not want her, another will.”

  “Like you?”

  “There are plenty of other rogues in London, and you know it.”

  Spencer’s crooked grin served to make Tristan’s gut clench tight. “Perhaps,” Tristan said, “but I expected better of you, cousin.”

  …

  Olivia woke with a pounding headache. Her maid entered and pushed back the curtains to reveal a bright morning. “You slept late, Your Grace.”

  “Did I miss the morning meal?”

  “Aye. You slept right through it. His Grace said not to disturb you.”

  Last night’s heated encounter in the carriage returned in a rush. Tristan had been passionate and gentle, and she’d experienced wondrous feelings at his skillful lips and tongue.

  “He is in his study, then?” Olivia asked.

  “His Grace left early this morning to deal with some business.”

  She knew better than to ask what business. It didn’t matter anyway. As soon as he returned, he’d head straight for his study.

  After Spencer’s confession last night, she understood her husband better. Tristan’s distant behavior didn’t have to do with their hasty marriage or whether he still believed she’d tricked him to the altar. He had no intention of having anything other than a marriage of convenience.

  She rose and dressed and made it to the morning room and asked for a steaming cup of coffee rather than tea. She drank and ate alone.

  Again.

  She’d seen the longing in Tristan’s gaze last night. He desired her, wanted her, but his stubbornness outweighed everything else. She’d even tried to tempt him into spending the night with her by asking him to help her with her gown, and his rejection still stung. Was this her future? To eat alone? Sleep alone?

  She was never one to feel sorry for herself, and she wouldn’t start now. At least she had a busy day planned, and she would force herself not to think of her husband.

  The coffee helped her headache. She finished her meal and went looking for Gordon. “I’m expecting a visitor. When Lady Ware arrives, please see her to the drawing room. No need to disturb the duke.”

  Gordon nodded. “Of course.”

  An hour later, Lady Ware arrived, and Olivia was ready. She rose to greet the other woman. “Thank you for visiting.”

  Lady Ware smiled and folded her hands before her. She was dressed in a lovely pale-yellow morning gown. “It is I who thank you. I’ve never dreamed I’d be invited to Keswick Hall.”

  Olivia rang for tea. When the tea things arrived, she poured a cup for Lady Ware and offered it to her. “How did you fare last night in the ladies’ gambling room?”

  A shadow crossed Lady Ware’s face, and she lowered her teacup. “Not as well as I’d hoped.”

  “Ah, was it at the roulette wheel?”

  The lady’s gaze lowered to her tea. “No, hazard.”

  “I see. I did tell you my family owns the Raven.”

  “You did,” Lady Ware agreed. “I was quite shocked to hear of it.”

  “You are a friend. I’ve helped others with their debts.”

  She looked at Olivia expectantly. “You have?”

  “Everyone has bad luck once in a while.”

  The lady worried her bottom lip. “Yes, yes. They do. Luck was not with me last night.”

  “I’d like to help.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll ask my brother to forgive the debt. It’s that simple.” It wasn’t Ian whom she’d ask but her sister.

  Lady Ware looked so relieved, tears formed in her eyes. “I’ll be forever indebted to you.”

  “Nonsense. That’s what friends are for.”

  Lady Ware set her teacup on the end table and scooted forward on the settee to take Olivia’s hand. “If there is anything I can do for you, not that I have much influence, but if I can manage it, all you need to do is ask.”

  The corners of Olivia’s lips curled in a smile. “There is one thing.”

  …

  Tristan was in a foul mood when he returned to Keswick Hall several hours later. He’d stopped at a tavern before returning home. His visit with Spencer had served to sour his disposition, and he’d hoped a meal and a tankard of ale would help, but it hadn’t. He wanted nothing more than to shut himself inside his study and read a book.

  It was not to be.

  Antonia swept into Tristan’s study with the force of a summer gale. “Tell me you have come to your senses and reconciled with your wife.”

  She would never change. Stubborn. Demanding. Inquisitive. She’d stood by his side when his own mother had been ashamed of him and shunned him. Antonia stood straight in the doorway, not making a pretense of leaning on the cane clutched in her right hand.

  “Hello, Grandmother. I thought you would be immersed in the Season and would have many soirees to attend. Isn’t that why you returned to town?”

  “Harrumph. I came to see how you are faring.”

  Tristan’s lips drew in a thin line. “You mean you came to i…i-interfere in my marriage.”

  “And will I be disappointed?”

  “Not unless you expect a change. All is the same.”

  “For a man as intelligent as you are, you are behaving quite stupidly.”

  He took a deep breath and prayed for patience.

  “Olivia did not intentionally deceive you and force you to offer her marriage. I’m ashamed to admit that I had thought so at first, but after I spent a week with your bride, I realized I was wrong.”

  He didn’t answer. He’d been coming to the same conclusion himself. It had started after he’d met her family, especially her sister. It was clear that they loved Olivia and wanted only her happiness. Why would she see the need to entrap him into marriage?

  Did it truly matter at this point? Whether he was right or wrong about his wife, it still
didn’t change their circumstances. She’d wanted to marry for love, to have children. An impossible dream. He shouldn’t have kissed her last night, shouldn’t have touched her. She was utter temptation, and he needed to harden his resolve. She’d asked him if she should take a lover. Perhaps that was best.

  Liar! Then why does the thought drive you to madness?

  If she’d been unintelligent, boring, and unattractive, he would not be in this position.

  But she wasn’t.

  He was aware of Antonia waiting for his response. “Whether Olivia intentionally deceived me or not, it matters naught now.”

  She stomped her cane. “Of course it does, my boy!”

  Tristan was careful not to come too close. He didn’t trust her not to strike him with the blasted cane. “I cannot give her what she most wants.”

  “And that is?”

  “Children.”

  Her lips pursed in a scowl. “You know I love you. Always have. But you are making a mistake. I only hope it is not an irreparable one.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Men gathered in mass in the Lords’ Chamber. Tristan settled amongst the crowd and listened to the many conversations around him. The Soldiers Bill would have its final reading today, and members of the House of Lords would debate the key points and main purpose of the bill. Concerns would be addressed and counterpoints raised. He’d already written to those he’d suspected would join Lord Ware and Lord Dumfries in opposition. A dozen letters had borne his seal and been hand-delivered.

  His arguments were well-crafted and set forth the benefits and fairness of the bill. He knew firsthand that neither Lord Ware nor Lord Dumfries excelled at arguing. Dumfries’s speeches comprised more rhetoric than logic.

  If only he could argue on behalf of the bill himself. Frustration lodged in Tristan’s throat. His face tightened, his jaw hardened, and he knew if he was to attempt to speak now, the words would sound guttural and broken.

  All quieted as the speaker began. “The second reading of the Soldiers Bill will be presented today. Lord Lampton, the sponsor, will go first.”

  Lord Lampton stood and eloquently stated his reaffirmation of the bill.

  Thereafter, it was time for the opposition to voice their concerns. Lord Ware was first on the list. “I had thought to stand and state opposition today, but after studying the language of the Soldiers Bill, I no longer oppose it but shall vote in favor of it.”

  Men looked at him in surprise, but no one was more shocked than Tristan. Had his correspondence to Lord Ware’s acquaintances changed the man’s opinion?

  Not bloody likely. So why the complete switch? What maggot was eating the man’s brain?

  A tap at his shoulder drew his attention, and he turned to find Spencer at his side. Tristan wasn’t one to hold a grudge, but he was still annoyed with his cousin.

  Spencer leaned close and lowered his voice. “You are not the only one who is surprised at Ware’s change of loyalty for the bill.”

  “What do you think is behind his change of heart?” Tristan asked.

  “I do not know. From what I can tell, most don’t. He was the bill’s most staunch opponent.”

  Tristan listened to the rest of the arguments, but his gaze kept returning to Lord Ware. The man appeared calm, as if his change of mind hadn’t caused havoc or made a bit of difference. Tristan was determined to find out the man’s reasoning.

  In contrast, Dumfries appeared agitated, his face flushed, his gaze darting back and forth between Lord Ware and the other members of the house. Tristan experienced a thrill at the man’s distress.

  Clearly, Dumfries hadn’t been forewarned. But how did this happen? The two men were political allies and staunch opponents of the Soldiers Bill. How could Ware not tell Dumfries that he had changed his vote?

  After the business of the day was concluded and all amendments to the bill discussed, Tristan headed straight for Lord Ware as he made his way through the Prince’s Chamber.

  A hand landed on his arm.

  Tristian turned to face Dumfries. Reacting instinctually, his arm tensed and his gaze narrowed.

  Dumfries released his grip at once.

  Memories of Eton came flooding back. They were never far away when Dumfries was in the room. Years had helped, but the hatred for the man would never fully fade.

  The man’s lips twisted in what could only be described as an arrogant sneer. “I never thought you would stoop as low as to use your wife, Keswick.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tristan snapped.

  Dumfries stared at him for a heartbeat. “You don’t know? Your wife has befriended Lady Ware. Women can be quite persuasive when they set their minds to task.”

  Tristan wouldn’t have been more surprised than if Dumfries admitted it had been his letters that had influenced Lord Ware’s opinion.

  “What I want to know,” Dumfries said, his expression mocking, “is what your wife used to influence Lord Ware to change his vote?”

  So did Tristan. His mind churned as he contemplated this unexpected turn of events.

  When had Olivia met Lady Ware? Had they known each other from the past? It was possible. He recalled that Lady Ware was younger than her husband and closer in age to Olivia. But if Lady Ware had recently been in his home or Olivia had visited Lady Ware’s residence, wouldn’t he have known about it? But most surprising of all, learning of Olivia’s actions did not diminish his thrill of victory. Especially over Dumfries.

  Tristan schooled his expression to remain impassive and met his enemy’s glower. “How my wife succeeded is of no consequence. You lost, Dumfries, and your bitterness matches your disposition. Go lick your wounds in private.”

  In the meantime, Tristan needed to keep better track of his wife.

  …

  Laugher tinkled from Keswick Hall’s gardens. Tristan made his way to the garden gate and halted at the scene before him.

  Five-year-old Catherine and a boy who appeared about a year younger than the girl were playing hoops on the lawn. Olivia was with them, using a short stick to drive her own hoop forward. Along with the two children, she was enjoying the games and laughing in pure delight.

  Carefree and lovely, he’d never seen a lady behave so uninhibitedly. He was still reeling from Lord Dumfries’s admission that Lord Ware supported the Soldiers Bill because of Olivia, somehow. For as long as Tristan lived, he’d never forget the look of furious defeat on Dumfries’s face.

  His wife had thought to do that for him?

  After all that had transpired between them, he was surprised she would have bothered or cared. He knew his fault was a lack of trust. He’d rarely trusted anyone, other than his grandmother, in a long, long time.

  He hadn’t treated Olivia fairly. Yet she’d still aided him and helped with a cause that meant much to him. He was beginning to see her differently. Oh, he’d known she was different from all the other ladies of the ton the moment she’d stepped into his Rosehill stables. She’d been reckless, defiant, and determined in her attempts to ride Atlas. Other men would view these traits unwanted in a wife, but life’s circumstances had changed him, and now he found these qualities desirable. Now she’d gone out of her way to do something special.

  For him.

  The children shrieked in pleasure as they used their own sticks to keep their hoops rolling across the lawn. They pumped their short legs to keep up with Olivia. The boy’s hoop careened into Olivia’s, and together, they crashed to the ground. More laughter ensued.

  The little boy sprang to his feet then proceeded to jump up and down. “Again!”

  Olivia clutched her chest in mock exhaustion. “Enough. I must catch my breath.”

  Tristan’s feet moved of their own volition, and the garden gate screeched as it closed behind him. Three pairs of eyes turned to him.

  “Duke!” Catherine leaped toward him then launched herself into his arms in a flurry of skirts. “I told Auntie Olivia that I hoped you would come. Let’s play.”
<
br />   Tristan smoothed a wayward lock of red hair from her eyes. “Who’s the boy?”

  “My cousin, Alexander.” Catherine took Tristan by the hand and tugged him toward the others.

  Olivia dusted dirt off her skirts as he approached. “This is Lord and Lady Castleton’s son, Lord Alexander.”

  Tristan held out his hand. “Hello.”

  “Are you the duke?” Alexander stared up at him with inquisitive brown eyes.

  “I am.”

  He pursed his lips. “You gave cousin Catherine a train. I want one.”

  “Alexander!” Olivia chided. “Is that any way to ask for anything?”

  “I want one, please.”

  “I’ll buy you a train on one c…c-ondition,” Tristan said.

  “What’s a condition?”

  “An agreement,” Catherine answered, her chest puffing up in self-importance.

  “If we beat the ladies at hoops, then I will buy you a train,” Tristan said.

  Alexander’s eyes widened. “Agreed.”

  Olivia cocked her head to the side and studied the duke. “You mean to challenge us to a race?”

  “I do.”

  Olivia folded her arms across her chest and met his eyes. “What will we get if we win?”

  “I’d like to go to Gunther’s for ices,” Catherine said, quick to speak up.

  Tristan nodded in agreement.

  “And me? What will I get?” Olivia asked, a glint of mischief appearing in her gaze.

  Tristan’s eyes licked over her like a candle flame. She looked beautiful with her disheveled fair hair and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Her light, teasing nature caught him off guard. He didn’t feel the normal alarm at a woman’s machinations. Rather, he experienced something else, something far more dangerous that he was helpless to resist.

  “What would you lik…lik…w-want?”

  “For you to escort me to the theater.”

  A night out with his wife. To escort her on his arm, to spend an evening with her in a private theater box, to enjoy the play. A perfectly ordinary request. Only they did not have an ordinary marriage.