Regarding the Duke

by Grace Callaway

  The guest had been Lord Parnell, a young rake known for his rapier wit. His cut had been clear, slicing deep into the heart of her woes: because Gabby lacked any alluring charms or mystique, she had to rely on her money to attract a husband.

  Gabby lowered her head in embarrassment. The necklace in question felt as heavy as an albatross around her throat. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know her own shortcomings; she didn’t need to have them pointed out in a public fashion. During the dancing after supper, Parnell and his cronies had watched her with smirks on their faces, sniggering to one another, and she’d known they were making fun of her.

  “Who said this to you?”

  The lethal edge in Mr. Garrity’s voice made her look up. To her surprise, his jaw was taut, and his eyes were smoldering, embers heating up the cold black.

  “Who said this?” he repeated.

  “It doesn’t matter—”

  “I beg to differ. No one insults you without consequences.”

  “I’m all right, truly.” His chivalry suffused her with wonder. “But thank you…for caring.”

  He stopped. Curled a finger beneath her chin. His touch rendered her incapable of motion or speech; even her worries about propriety and her reputation faded. He was like the sun and she a planet drawn into his powerful orbit. For a wild moment, she lost herself in his magnetic heat.

  “If anyone else is a nuisance, promise that you will come to me,” he said.

  Her breath puffed from her lips. He stood so close. Close enough for his scent to tickle her nostrils, a virile mix of exotic spice and clean male. Heat bloomed inside her, her knees melting.

  He increased the subtle pressure of his finger on her chin. His strength seemed to flow into her from that single point of contact. “Give me your word, my dear.”

  No man had ever offered to be her champion. To defend and protect her.

  Her voice hushed with wonder and amazement, she said, “I promise.”

  Satisfaction flared in his eyes before his gaze hooded.

  “Good.” He dropped his hand. “For the sake of your reputation, you’d best go back inside.”

  She hadn’t even noticed that they were once again near the main building. Although she didn’t want the magical interlude to end, she knew he was right.

  “Good night, Mr. Garrity,” she said with a tremulous smile. “I shan’t ever forget this evening.”

  He bowed. “Adieu, Miss Billings.”

  She floated back toward the house.

  “If you insult Miss Billings again—if you even look askance at her—you will answer to me.” Adam kept the target of his displeasure pinned against the wall of the stables. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal,” Lord Parnell gasped.

  “From here on in, you and your cronies will ensure that her dance card is full. Except for the waltzes; those are mine. Otherwise, you’ll do the pretty, and you’ll do it well.”

  “Y-yes, sir. Anything you say, sir.”

  The scent of urine wafted into Adam’s nostrils. With distaste, he saw the dark spot spreading over the front of Parnell’s trousers. The lily-livered bastard had no problem destroying a young woman’s confidence to further his own popularity, yet he hadn’t even tried to fight back against Adam. Like any bully, Parnell was a coward who only preyed upon the vulnerable.

  Having dealt with this despicable sort all his life, Adam knew how to deal with them. There was only one thing a bully respected: a bigger bully.

  Releasing the blackguard with a hard shove, Adam opened and closed his hands, feeling the burn of his well-used fists. These days, he didn’t dirty his hands much, but this was a matter of honor. His soon-to-be-bride’s honor.

  Recalling Gabriella’s sweet departing smile, he felt a surge of satisfaction.

  Everything is going according to plan. Soon she’ll be mine. And I’ll be one step closer to getting my vengeance.

  Numquam obliviscar—never forget.

  “Shall I finish up here, sir?”

  This came from Kerrigan, one of Adam’s personal guards. A giant with a shaved head and an eye patch, Kerrigan had a special hatred of toffs who hurt young women. Adam felt the same way. And Gabriella, with her poignant sweetness, stirred his protective instincts in a way no woman had for a long, long time.

  Adam straightened the lapels of his jacket. “Avoid the face. Leave no visible marks.”

  Kerrigan grinned, cracking his knuckles.

  The last thing Adam heard as he left the stables was Parnell’s terrified whimper.

  2

  Ten days later

  “You wanted to see me, Miss Billings?”

  At the deep, silky tones, Gabby spun around. She’d been nervously studying one of the gilt-framed landscapes in the gallery whilst waiting for Mr. Garrity’s arrival. She’d chosen this room for the privacy it offered. The cross-shaped chamber was situated in a low-traffic corner of the East Wing. And, if other guests happened to come by, she had the excuse that she was showing Mr. Garrity some of the paintings.

  Now he was here. Garbed in an impeccable suit of charcoal superfine, he looked like a sleek jungle cat juxtaposed against the chamber’s green walls. She, on the other hand, felt like a plump pigeon in her sprigged white muslin.

  “Beg pardon, I didn’t hear you come in,” she blurted.

  Above his pristine maize-silk cravat, his mouth curved. “Old habits, I’m afraid.”

  Despite the pressing concerns she had to address, she couldn’t help but ask, “Why would you have the habit of moving so silently?”

  “Because I once ran with a gang in the stews, and my survival depended upon stealth.”

  It took her a moment to digest the revelation, which had been delivered with his usual equanimity.

  “You were in a gang?” she said stupidly. “In the stews?”

  Looking at the elegant, powerful man before her, she found the notion unbelievable. Since he’d first approached her in the garden, she’d spent time with him every day. No one had seemed to take notice for murder had taken center stage: one of the performers hired to entertain the guests had been found dead in the library. But now the mystery of the acrobat’s death had been solved—thanks to the investigative prowess of Gabby’s friends, the Kents—and the murderer brought to justice.

  Just as one catastrophe ended, however, another had cropped up. This time, the intrigue involved one of the house guests, Mr. Wickham Murray. Apparently, Mr. Murray owed a substantial sum to Mr. Garrity, and others were characterizing the latter as a ruthless cutthroat.

  Given what Gabby knew of Mr. Garrity, she could not believe this to be true.

  Normally, she wouldn’t interfere in the affairs of others, but Mr. Murray was ever so nice. Moreover, he was soon to be the brother-in-law of Gabby’s dear chum, Miss Violet Kent, who’d made a surprising love match with Viscount Carlisle, Mr. Murray’s older brother, over the course of the house party.

  A lot had happened in ten days.

  Not least of all the fact that Gabby had fallen head-over-slippers in love with the man of her dreams. Actually, Mr. Garrity left all her girlish expectations in the dust: she couldn’t have even imagined a man as wonderful as him. While others might find his self-assurance daunting, she felt calm and protected in his presence. With his fierce intelligence and perceptiveness, she was certain that he saw all her flaws, but he didn’t seem to mind them. He treated her ever so kindly, his chivalry the stuff of fantasy.

  And there was no denying that he was the most handsome man she’d ever met.

  But now the party was ending, and she didn’t know when she would see Mr. Garrity next. If she’d see him again. She shut out that depressing thought. The important thing, she told herself, the reason that she’d sent a note asking for him to meet her here, was to discuss the situation with Mr. Murray. She was certain that, if Mr. Garrity but understood Mr. Murray’s difficult situation, he would show mercy on the young gentleman.

  “I grew up in the streets of St. G
iles. I survived by any means possible,” Mr. Garrity said calmly. “All of that is far behind me. But I thought it best you should know.”

  She stared at him, heart hammering, thoughts of Mr. Murray’s plight overshadowed by Mr. Garrity’s startling revelations. In their prior encounters, Mr. Garrity hadn’t revealed much about himself. He’d asked her many questions, however…and seemed genuinely interested in her replies. In fact, he was the only man of her acquaintance who seemed to enjoy her chatter.

  Now, for the first time, he was sharing something about himself. No etiquette lessons had taught her how to respond to such astonishing, intimate facts. In truth, nothing in her life had prepared her for a man like Adam Garrity.

  “Does that disgust you?” he asked.

  “No.” Horrified that he’d misinterpreted her silence for condemnation, she said in a rush, “Heavens, not at all! You could never disgust me. I…I just never thought of you as anything but the man you are now.”

  He raised a brow. “And what sort of man is that, Miss Billings?”

  “Powerful. Rich. Elegant and ever so handsome.” Lord above, please tell me I didn’t say that last part aloud.

  “I am, of course, gratified by your assessment.” The devilish glint in his eyes confirmed that she had, indeed, blurted her thoughts like a moonstruck ninny. “It gives me hope, my dear.”

  Her pulse quickened. “Hope for what?”

  “I wish to inform you of some facts,” he said, not answering her question. “I believe honesty to be the essential ingredient in any successful union, which is why I must be truthful with you.”

  A successful union? Does he mean…what I think he means?

  Although he’d paid her attention these past few days, she hadn’t dared to believe that a man as worldly and charismatic as he would ever view her in a romantic light.

  Hope bubbled through her like uncorked champagne. Giddy, breathless, she could only nod.

  “I do not, as a rule, discuss my past. I will do so this once, in order for you to have the necessary facts to make an informed decision. After that, I will consider the matter addressed and laid to rest.” He paused. “Does that suit you, Miss Billings?”

  “Yes,” she said speedily for fear that he might change his mind.

  “Perhaps you would care to sit?”

  He led her to a velvet bench situated in an alcove. Arranging her skirts, she peered up at him. From her angle, his dark masculinity was contrasted against the snowy plasterwork flowers that adorned the domed ceiling. With his inky, slicked-back hair and slashing brows, he looked like an angel fallen from that heavenly field.

  Exciting and earthly…a bit dangerous.

  “I am a self-made man, Miss Billings, in every respect. My mother died when I was six; I never knew my sire, who abandoned her shortly after they were married and before my birth.” His tone was devoid of emotion. “I’ve been making my own way in the world since I can recall. In my twenties, I started a business providing funds to those in need. One, in truth, not unlike your father’s bank. I have since grown and diversified that enterprise. I own properties throughout England as well as holdings in various industrial projects.” He paused. “Do you have any questions thus far?”

  Um, only about a million?

  She said the first thing that came to her mind.

  “Was it difficult…being so alone?” Her heart ached for all the hardship he must have endured and from such a young age.

  He dealt her a level stare. “Solitude has never been a problem for me, Miss Billings.”

  “You are saying that you prefer that state?” she asked with a frown.

  “I wouldn’t call it a preference, no. Merely a condition that I’ve come to accept.” His mouth ticked up at one corner. “Until you came along.”

  Gabby’s hand fluttered to her bosom. “M-me?”

  “You, Miss Billings.” His eyes were like a brazier, dark and smoldering. “I am five-and-thirty, my dear, and my thoughts have, of late, turned to the future. I hope I do not sound immodest when I say that I have achieved the majority of the goals I set forth for myself as a young man. I have wealth, property, and the freedom to live life on my own terms. What I do not have is someone to share it with. Someone with whom I can build a family. Someone who will give me sons to whom I may pass on my legacy.”

  Her heart was beating so fast that she feared it might burst from her chest. It was as if he’d plucked her dreams out of her head, presenting them as his own.

  “Since I have come to know you, Miss Billings, I’ve become convinced that you are the one I seek.” He studied her intently. “May I dare to presume that you might have a similar preference for me?”

  “Oh, Mr. Garrity, I do. Ever so much,” she said in an aching whisper.

  The slow curving of his sultan’s mouth touched upon the nerve of her deepest romantic yearnings.

  “Before I ask you an important question, there is something else I must address,” he said.

  “Anything,” she breathed. “Anything at all, sir.”

  Although his expression didn’t change much, she saw the way his smile reached his eyes. It was subtle, faint lines crinkling around his dark gaze, but it was there. And she loved that she could make him smile.

  I love him, she thought joyfully.

  “It concerns the notion of love.”

  Wariness smothered her giddy state. “What…what about it?”

  “I know that the concept of a love match is much in fashion with modern young ladies. Too much novel reading, I daresay. But I am an old-fashioned fellow and, more to point, one who values honesty. If I am to wed, I would want there to be no illusions between me and my wife.”

  “Illusions?” Gabby said in a small voice.

  “I don’t have much use for sentiment, Miss Billings. Being a practical man, I believe that actions speak louder than poetry ever could. In sum, I have no use for romantic love.”

  Her hopes deflated like a hot-air balloon that had suddenly run out of fuel. Her heart plummeting, she chastised herself for being stupid. For hoping that any man could ever fall in love with her. This was Adam Garrity, for goodness’ sake. He could have anybody he wanted. He’d only chosen her because…

  You’re convenient. An heiress.

  She forced the words out of her tight throat. “You’re proposing a marriage of convenience?”

  “Christ, no.”

  His adamant reply made her blink. And, dash it, hope once more. “Then what are you…?”

  “I’m proposing a marriage based on mutual respect and shared goals. I am seeking a spouse who is loyal, virtuous, and worthy of trust.”

  I can give you what you want, her heart cried. Be what you want.

  Swallowing, she forced herself to address her doubts. “And do you also wish for a wife who will bring a substantial dowry?” Do you want me simply because I’m an heiress? “If that is the case, you ought to know that—”

  “Your fortune is in a trust. A separate estate that is governed by a trustee and that your future husband may not touch,” he said matter-of-factly. “If your father should pass, your inheritance will also go into said trust, to be dispersed by the trustee for your benefit and that of your children. Am I missing anything?”

  Her jaw slackened. “How…how did you know…?”

  “As we become more intimately acquainted, you will find that I am not a man who leaves matters up to chance. When something is important to me, I make certain to have all the facts. And to make any necessary provisions to get what I want.”

  Some might think that his declaration sounded cold-blooded.

  To Gabby, it was the essence of romance.

  “And you want…me?” she whispered in disbelief. “Even without my money?”

  “I have no need of your money.” His eyes were mesmerizing whirlpools, drawing her in. “What I am in want of is a wife who will be a true and steadfast partner in our life together.”

  Longing halted her breath. And that was before
he went down on one bended knee, engulfing her trembling hand in his large, warm one.

  “I will speak to your father, of course,” he said in husky tones, “but first I must know your wishes. Is my suit favorable to you, Miss Billings?”

  Yes, her heart sang. Yes, yes, yes.

  He doesn’t believe in love, her head reminded her.

  She summoned her courage. “You said you valued honesty, so I feel I must be candid with you.”

  His eyes gleamed. “It is my wish that you always will be.”

  “I don’t know if I can have a marriage without affection. I understand your views on romantic love, sir, and I respect them, but I’m not certain I can be as…as indifferent.” Heat scorched her cheeks; she lowered her gaze to the gold buttons of his waistcoat as she carried on. “I may develop feelings, ones that you will find inconvenient. I shan’t be able to stop myself.” I’m already falling in love with you. “I don’t know that I’ll be able to be the sensible, cold, detached sort of spouse that you want.”

  Miserably, she looked at him. And was surprised to see the crinkles around his eyes.

  “I could never find you inconvenient, my dear,” he murmured.

  “But you don’t want love.” She shook her head. “And if I were to…to…”

  “I would cherish whatever feelings you chose to bestow upon me. Take care of them as I will take care of you.” He rose, pulling her with him. Her head spun at how closely they now stood together, only a sliver of space between them. “While I may not believe in romantic love, I do think that affection is a desirable quality in marriage. I will be faithful to you, protect you, see that you want for nothing. You will not find me a cold husband.”

  He lifted his hands to her jaw, tipping her head back. Anticipation shivered through her as she read the intent in his eyes: he was going to kiss her. Her first kiss. Worries wormed into her head. Am I going to do this right? How is one supposed to kiss? Goodness, my breath—what did I eat last? Then his lips descended, landing on hers, gently, ever so gently.