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Fate Gave Me a Duke
by Amanda Mariel
Chapter 1
Mayfair, England
December 12, 1811
Lady Juliet Gale stood near the potted ferns at her dear friend Olivia, the Duchess of Thorne’s Christmastide ball. Her gaze lingered on the dance floor where couples clad in deep greens, vibrant reds, golds, varieties of blues, and silvers danced the quadrille. Candlelight caught their jewels—or was it the other way around—and glittered about the enormous space.
Add to that the bows of greenery Olivia had placed about the room, and the setting certainly was festive. Everyone who was anyone seemed to be in the room, and they all wore smiles, their continence full of merriment and good cheer.
Juliet lowered her silk fan as her gaze met Olivia’s. “You outdid yourself.”
Olivia beamed back at her. “William told me to spare no expense for such a special evening. He wanted perfection, and I daresay I delivered. The girls are a smashing success.”
William and Olivia had married last year, and in the process, Olivia became both mother and sister to his three younger siblings. Tonight was the unofficial come out ball for the oldest two sisters, Lady Catherine and Lady Louisa.
Juliet tapped her fan against Olivia’s arm in a playful manner. “My, but you sound smug. Nothing like patting oneself on the back.”
Olivia huffed a soft sigh, though she wasn’t the least bit scalded. “There is no need to be jealous,” she retorted in a teasing lilt.
Juliet turned her attention back to the dancing couples, her gaze finding Louisa and Catherine in their complimentary silk gowns. One in silver and the other in an ice blue, both trimmed in seed pearls and lace. The girls seemed to enjoy themselves, and they certainly were garnering loads of attention from the gentleman. On that score, Olivia was quite right, and it thrilled Juliet to witness the outcome.
She turned her attention back to Olivia. “I was only jesting. Honestly, you have every right to be pleased with yourself. It seems Louisa and Catherine are a success.”
“Indeed,” Olivia said. “I am planning for a parlor full of suitors come morning.”
Juliet took a glass of champagne from a passing footman. “And, right, you should. I would wager they both have offers of marriage by season’s end.” She brought the glass to her lips and took a copious drink as she wondered if her turn would ever come. At four and twenty, most of her peers considered her past her prime and no doubt racing toward spinsterhood.
Olivia turned her understanding gaze on Juliet. “Do not fret. Your prince charming will arrive.” She waved her hand at the crush of lords and ladies. “Perhaps he is here now, and you have only to find him.”
“I am not fretting,” Juliet said. She brought the champagne flute back to her lips for another drink as the music ended, and couples began departing the dance floor.
She could not help but notice how Catherine’s partner was leading her toward the balcony. He had his hand resting over hers where her fingers looped over his arm and smiled at her as they traversed the room. Perhaps the girl had already found her future husband.
“I daresay he looks smitten,” Juliet said, without taking her gaze from the couple.
“I had better chaperone them,” Olivia said, “From a distance, of course,” then departed with haste to follow Catherine and her suitor.
After finishing her champagne, Juliet sat the empty flute on a passing footman’s tray, then looked about for their other friend Emma. Her usually cheerful mood turned more sour when she spotted Emma in her husband’s arms. She did not begrudge Emma. On the contrary, joy-filled her at her friend’s happiness.
Still, she could not help feeling a bit left out. Perhaps, even abandoned to some extent. The three of them, Emma, Olivia, and Juliet, had been the closest of friends. A trio of wallflower’s who always kept each other company and cheered one-an-other on. Now she was alone. Leastwise, mostly alone, and she very much wanted her own happily ever after with a dashing gentleman.
Juliet sighed as she started across the ballroom toward the hallway. She was not truly alone, and it was unfair of her to think in such a way. Emma and Olivia still included her in all the ways they could. The three of them were still fast friends and loyal confidants. And, most importantly, it pleased Juliet that her friends had found love.
She was simply depressed tonight and, as a result, being unfair. Olivia was right. Juliet would find love. Though she very much doubted it would happen tonight. She had to be patient. And if her friends were any indication, the wait for her own prince charming would be well worth it.
Yes, she would hold out hope, but she would seek a bit of solitude in the meantime. Half an hour away from the glittering ballroom and smiling couples would no doubt set her mood to rights. When she reappeared, she would be her usual cheerful self.
Juliet slipped out, then turned toward the library. She would select a new book to read, and once she’d cleared her mind, she would slip back into the ballroom.
No one would miss a stray wallflower.
Of that, she was certain.
Giles Fortescue, Duke of Cleburne, bemoaned his attendance at this bloody ball. He’d never enjoyed such events and, as such, did all in his power—and he welded a considerable amount—to avoid them.
On the rare occasions when he failed, he ensconced himself in the game room or between a willing widow’s thighs. Sadly, there would be little of that this evening. He’d already been here several hours and drank a copious amount of liquor. Yet, he remained in the ballroom, as Thorne had requested.
Casting his gaze about the room, he caught sight of his long-time friend ensconced in conversation and wondered if he might sneak off for a bit without notice. Surely Thorne would not begrudge him a small reprieve. After all, Thorne was well aware of Giles’s aversion to these things.
A smile curved his lips at the thought, and he searched the room seeking a lady to distract himself with. His gaze met nothing beyond the innocent smiles of debutantes and appraising eyes of matchmaking mamas.
The whole thing was enough to make a fellow’s skin crawl. And he wondered for the thousandth time why he’d allowed Thorne to rope him into this.
Giles slipped his flash from his coat and took a long drink of the brandy canceled within. Perhaps if he got drunk enough, Thorne would dismiss him from his obligation. Leastwise, he would find the ball more tolerable. Regardless, he was well on his way to being foxed and had no intention of slowing down now.
Giles simply was not fit company. He did not belong at a come-out ball full of innocent ladies. Thorne never should have besieged him to attend. He certainly should not have requested that Giles remain in the ballroom.
Why the devil had he allowed Thorne to talk him into attending his sister’s ball, at any rate? Giles should have declined. He was not the sort of man to add prestige to such an event, and certainly not the sort that would help the girls.
If anything, his presence here would hurt their chances of finding suitable matches, and Thorne well knew it. Giles was well known as a rogue. The fact that he was a duke only allowed him more liberties. He could tarnish a lady’s reputation by merely dancing with her.
Still, Thorne was Giles’s oldest and closest friend. He could scarcely refuse his invitation. Nor could he ravish any of the innocent ladies swarming the ballroom.
There was nothing for it, he was here, and he would
do his best to honor Thorne’s wishes. Surely, he could survive one night of debutants.
He took another long drink of brandy before he capped his flask and closed his eyes.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a familiar feminine voice fairly purred near his ear.
A roguish smile curved his lips, for it seemed his luck was taking a turn for the better. “Lady Lambert,” he said as he opened his eyes to greet the widow.
She gave a slight smile, her gaze full of invitation. “It has been some time, Your Grace.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. The last time he had entertained her had been several months back. Perhaps a year ago. “How long has it been? A year?”
She gave a nonchalant shrug. “I couldn’t say.”
The severe set of her face betrayed her feigned nonchalance, and he recalled why he’d ended the affair. She had become too serious—even a bit territorial. He’d wager she knew down to the hour how long it had been since he bedded her.
Regardless, she was just the distraction he needed tonight.
He brushed the back of one finger along her cheek and asked, “Have you missed me,” he leaned closer and added, “Kitty?”
Passion flared in her gaze. “Met me in the library in twenty minutes, and I shall endeavor to show you exactly how much.” She tapped her silk fan against his chest. “I promise I will not disappoint you.” Kitty pivoted, then fled in a billow of scarlet skirts, her hips swaying in invitation.
Giles waited a few minutes, then strode around the perimeter of the ballroom before exiting. As he made his way to the library, he sipped from his flask. A bit more brandy and a willing woman would set him to rights. After his little tryst, he would return to the ball and lend Thorne his full support.
For whatever that was worth.
Chapter 2
Juliet inhaled a deep breath as she turned to face the shelves of neatly bound books. All at once, her stress melted away, and her mood took a turn for the better.
She much preferred the scents of leather and vellum to those of the stifling ballroom. The intermingling rose, jasmine and sandalwood colognes and powders combined with bodily odors clogged her nose and turned her stomach.
But this. Ah yes, she adored the scent of the vast and utterly deserted library. Beeswax, tallow, leather, and vellum mingled with the smell of the crackling fire in the hearth. It was peaceful and inviting. And best of all, there was no one else about—no one to judge her and no one she needed to impress.
She was alone. Save for herself and the books, of course. Juliet smiled as she scanned row after row of volumes bound in brown, red, and blue with gold lettering. From where she stood, her sightline contained nothing more than books, and she adored the prospect of selecting one.
The idea of escaping into a different world and letting her imagination run wild always thrilled her. When she read, she became one of the characters. It was as if she got sucked right into the book and lived the story. There was no greater escape. Not for a lady, at any rate.
She stepped closer to the shelves, then reached out to run her fingertip along the book spines as she considered each in turn. Edgeworth, Hoffmann, Scott. All excellent authors, but not quite what she was looking for. Juliet strolled further down the row of books, then paused when she spotted a recent novel, Sense, and Sensibility by A Lady volume one.
Finding the author’s title and anonymity interesting, she plucked the book from the shelf and then opened it. She’d likely read it for no other reason than to support the anonymous female author. All the same, she hoped the storyline would be intriguing.
Juliet read the first line: The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex. So it was to be a family tale, she thought as she read further. It did not take long to discover that the Dashwood females were in a precarious position. She determined the book to be well worth her time and continued to read.
Juliet considered sitting on one of the sofas or chairs scattered about the room, but thought better of it. It would not do for her to grow too comfortable, for if she did, she might forget to return to the ball within a reasonable amount of time. And if she dallied for overlong, Olivia would take notice and be cross with her.
One chapter, she reasoned with herself, and then she would return to the ballroom. With her decision made, she allowed herself to sink into the tale as she stood near the hearth with her body facing the bookshelves. After less than a paragraph, she was hooked on the story and devouring the pages.
“You are early, kitten.” The deep timbre of a man filled the room.
A pair of muscular arms came around Juliet as she heard the masculine voice. She jumped at the intrusion and unexpected contact, the book dropping from her hands to thwack against the floor.
“There is no need to play coy,” he said, then brought his lips to the column of her neck.
Caught completely off guard, heat spiraled through Juliet, and a small moan floated from somewhere deep inside her. She’d never had a man’s lips on her neck—never had much attention at all from men.
Who was this one, and more importantly, who did he think she was?
Regaining a bit of sense, she pulled away then turned on him. “Do you make a habit of accosting ladies?”
His eyes darkened from a light blue, green shade to more of a deep hazel as he stared at her. For a moment, he appeared unsure, perhaps confused, then he gave a devilish grin and said, “Only the beautiful ones.”
Her heart slammed in her chest as her pulse ticked up. He was tall, broad, and devastatingly handsome with his golden hair, patrician nose, full lips, and chiseled jaw. And he had called her beautiful! She’d never beheld such a man. Certainly never been complimented in such a way by an exceedingly handsome man.
He took a step forward, bringing his body closer to hers, and she smelled the brandy wafting from him. All at once, his behavior made sense. The man was foxed, quite thoroughly if she had to guess.
Juliet held out a staying hand. “Whoever you were expecting, I am clearly not her.”
“Certainly not.” He reached for her. “You are a far better surprise.” He caught her in his arms and brought his lips to hers.
Juliet thought she must be in a dream. Or perhaps a nightmare. Either way, it was proving far too pleasant. New sensations traveled through her, her body feeling more alive than it ever had as he slanted his mouth over hers.
She should stop this at once. The man was clearly foxed. She could taste the brandy on his lips and she’d smelled it before. It radiated from him, but she did not find the smell or the taste off-putting. On the contrary, it smelled of fruit, a pleasant and earthy aroma mingled with the taste of sweetly bitter liquor as their lips joined.
If they were caught…
His tongue slid across the crease of her lips, and as if on instinct, she opened her mouth, allowing him entrance. Devastated, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on as he deepened the kiss. All thought fled her mind when he pulled her body tight against his, pressing her breasts to his muscular chest.
She’d been kissed before. Once by a neighbor boy. But that kiss… It could not compare to this. They had been children, and the kiss had been chaste. An experiment between two curious youths that left neither impressed. Nor had she experienced any of the sensations the man kissing her now was causing.
Her entire body warmed and tingled as he worked his lips over hers, his tongue sliding over hers and hands holding her close. Tendrils of heat and wanton passion unfurled within her and spread throughout her body. Her pulse thrummed, and the place between her thighs grew damp. The effect of his kiss was devastating, and all at once, addicting.
He cupped her bottom and lifted her from the ground. “Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart,” he said before capturing her lips anew.
Unwilling to stop herself, she complied, wrapping her legs around his hips as their mouths took greedily of each other. Juliet wanted more of this—she wanted more of him.
He carried her to a nearby table th
en sat her on its edge, his mouth never leaving hers. An unfamiliar sensation, a deep longing gripped her as he stroked one hand up her leg, pulling her skirt up with it.
This truly was too much. Another moment, a few inches higher, and she would reach the point of no return. She would be ruined if she did not stop him now. For she’d be unable to stop him later. She craved these new sensations he was causing within her—she wanted him.
Ultimately, she found herself powerless in the face of his seduction. When she should have pushed him away, she pulled him closer. Another minute. Another kiss. One more caress. She would allow herself one more minute of bliss, then she would demand he leave her.
He slid his lips from hers and blazed a trail of fervent kisses across her cheek, stopping to suckle her earlobe, then whispered, “You are so sweet. So beautiful.”
Her core throbbed as her heart delighted. She was a fool. A wanton she-devil destined for ruination. But most shocking of all was the realization that she did not care. Juliet had never felt so alive, so feminine and primal, and she reveled in the powerful awakening.
He trailed his kisses down her throat, suckling and laving her hot flesh as he stroked higher up her thigh. His touches gentle, his fingertips like little flames dancing across her thigh.
When he dipped his tongue into the valley between her breasts, Juliet whimpered with need. Her body begged for more, something else, something she knew only he could give her.
But she could not allow for it. This had to stop before they were caught. Before she let him go too far. Before, she gave all of herself to a stranger.
Juliet pushed at his shoulders. “Stop. We cannot.”
He brought his head up to meet her gaze but did not remove his hand from her thigh. “What is your name, sweetheart?”
Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1) Page 51