The Duke of a Thousand Desires

by Jillian Hunter

  “So you know everything,” Ravenna said before her aunt could go into hysterics. “I’ve shamed myself,” she added.

  “What is done is done,” the white-haired Welshwoman said with a resigned air. “I regret you went behind my back to expose David’s infidelity. Why didn’t you seek my opinion before taking this rash action?”

  Ravenna shook her head in frustration. “I attempted to do so a dozen times. You and Aunt Primrose assured me David was sowing his wild oats and that I should believe only what I saw with my own eyes.”

  “You saw him?”

  “Yes.”

  “How demeaning for everyone involved. I don’t know that I would have reacted as you did. I might have been too shocked to make a sound.”

  “I didn’t plan to shriek like a banshee. Nor did I anticipate attracting the duke’s notice. I wasn’t even aware we had stepped outside at the same moment.”

  “One steps outside for a breath of air, not to incite the scandal of the century. I collect that Rhys was your partner in this calamity.”

  “I forced him,” Ravenna said. “He agreed it was time to unmask David for the wretch he is.”

  “We were all misled by David’s gallant airs. I never realized he was rotten to the core.” Aunt Glynnis took off her spectacles. “But what is the truth about Simon? He went to school with your brothers. I liked the rascal, I admit.”

  “He is an exceptional man,” Jane murmured from her desk.

  “He would have to be to marry my niece after this,” Aunt Glynnis said. “But I have to wonder -- was there more to your innocent friendship than I perceived, Ravenna?”

  Had there been?

  Had Ravenna missed the signs of a smoldering romance between her and Simon?

  Had she been afraid to admit to herself that she found him compelling? She recalled the day he’d saved her from her brother beneath the old stone bridge.

  Indeed, she had relished taking refuge in his arms. Had she secretly hoped he would kiss her then? He hadn’t. She had escaped back to castle, shivering wet and confused, a spark of discontent ignited within her.

  As far as she knew, Simon had forgotten the encounter, even though in both reality and her deepest thoughts he had grown forbidding. Someone whose protection might come at a cost.

  “Nothing ever happened between me and Simon,” she said after a deliberation that denoted some degree of regret. “And while he might not care what others think, he is concerned about your opinion. Will you forgive us?”

  “I don’t see that I have a choice,” her aunt said fretfully. “Are your lives truly in danger?”

  “Simon seems to think so.”

  Aunt Glynnis tucked her glasses into her bodice. “To think that all of this happened while I was taking the waters to restore my stamina for your wedding. I should have taken you with me.”

  “Yes,” Ravenna murmured. Goodness knew, to judge by her few encounters with Simon, she would need a powerful restorative herself to survive not only the ceremony but what came after.

  Aunt Glynnis released another sigh. “Who was this lunatic in the gardens who shot at Simon?”

  “We don’t know,” Jane said, her quill poised in mid-air. “We’ve made arrangements for Ravenna to stay with Heath and Julia until the marriage takes place.”

  “Then I shall stay here, with Grayson’s permission,” Glynnis said.

  Jane smiled. “You are more than welcome,”

  “Thank you, my dear,” the older woman said with a nod of appreciation. “At minimum Ravenna will pass the days before the ceremony with dignity. Won’t you?”

  Ravenna straightened her back. “I hope so.”

  “You and Rhys have no more schemes up your sleeves? No plans to escape the duke?”

  “Not a single one.”

  Aunt Glynnis perked up. “Then all that remains is for me to speak with Simon about the conditions of your courtship.”

  “What courtship?” Ravenna said with a startled look at Jane.

  “People your age may not care for custom, but I do. You have to attend the proper places and make a pleasant impression on those who count. It is a privilege to be a duchess. The country looks to its peers for an example, which, alas, in our family’s case is an imperfect archetype indeed.”

  Twenty minutes later Aunt Glynnis cross-examined Simon at a table set with tea, coffee, and fresh apple muffins lathered in fairy butter. He wasn’t sure what Ravenna had revealed to her, but until he knew the situation called for a lot of nodding and smiling and all the charm he possessed.

  “I’m sure you must have questions,” he tentatively began.

  “And I will ask them.” She inspected him over her muffin. “You are marrying Ravenna of your volition?”

  “Yes. Do I understand that you expect us to enter a period of courtship?”

  “Not if it gives you an excuse to delay the wedding.”

  “Glynnis,” he said, putting his hand to his heart. “I have given my word.”

  “My niece gave her word to another man.”

  He reached for his cup. “I’m not sure what you’ve been told, but Ravenna and I don’t have the luxury of following tradition. The old rules are rubbish. She saw my assailant. She is vulnerable by virtue of the fact that she could identify him, or he thinks she could.”

  “She should not be left alone, or to her own devices,” she said, returning her muffin to her plate.

  “I agree. Until he is apprehended, she should not appear in public unguarded.”

  “And yet you were attacked at a private affair,” she said in concern. “Her wedding was to be held in St. George’s. What do we tell those we invited?”

  “Tell Sir David’s acquaintances to jump in a lake. The others are welcome to attend the ceremony in Grayson’s chapel.”

  She stirred her tea. “When is this event to be held?”

  “Twelve days. Two weeks? As soon as I have the special license.”

  “Don’t you wish to romance my niece?” she asked shrewdly.

  More fervently than Glynnis could guess, which was an admission a gentleman could hardly make to his betrothed’s aunt. “What matters is that she is under my immediate protection. As her husband it will not appear inappropriate that I am constantly at her side.”

  “There is nothing appropriate about how this engagement has come about,” she said wryly. “Let us not pretend differently between ourselves.”

  “Do you think that Ravenna would like me to court her?”

  “I would like you to,” she said with a disingenuous smile. “Twelve days, though. It should not be a hardship, Simon. The populace will suspect a child is on the way.”

  “Hang the gossips.”

  “How am I to show you off in such a short time?” she asked, eyeing him like a surprise gift she had just opened.

  He exhaled in relief. She had accepted him. Or she would make the best of the situation. Regardless of her reasons, he preferred Glynnis as a friend to another foe.

  “What a shame Griffin cannot be here,” she said, her smile disappearing.

  Simon wished he felt the same. He would have to explain to Ravenna about his proposal sooner or later, but later bought him time to persuade her that he had wanted her long before now, and honor had forced him to keep his deep wanting a secret.

  He went home before darkness fell. Sitting in his bedchamber he reviewed the face of every person he’d met at the ball, every conversation he’d held or overheard. Who had set the trap?

  He thought of Ravenna and felt his heart lighten in happiness. Would he wake up tomorrow and find she had been a dream? Then he would not close his eyes.

  It was likely he wouldn’t rest properly until he had kept his promise to take every sweet inch of her for his own. Until that moment he’d simmer and survive on memories and anticipation. The sweetness of her mouth. Her silky skin. Her bravery.

  Great God. He glanced balefully from the lunar clock on the mantelpiece to his bed. His sex hardened as he envisi
oned her awaiting him in willing surrender.

  His eyes felt heavy. He snapped back to himself at the pinging of rain against the window. He removed the rosette from his waistcoat pocket. Desire and the threat of death. Was she asleep? Afraid? At least she was not alone.

  13

  Ravenna came upon Simon early again the next day. She’d taken a pot of hot chocolate and buttered toast in bed, then slipped through Heath and Julia’s quiet house, not wanting to cause a disturbance after the conflict she had created. She’d thought of Simon all through the night. Perhaps for that reason she wasn’t startled when she found him alone in Heath’s study.

  She loved this retreat, redolent with the aroma of must and cigars, crammed with precious old books on obscure topics and charts of exotic lands she’d never dreamed existed. A large military desk dominated the room. Its multiple hidden drawers and pigeonholes held knowledge only Heath understood, although Julia had said he’d committed his most crucial secrets to memory.

  Simon stood facing the wall, inscrutable in his own fashion, his large hands clasped behind his back. He was examining a map of Egypt when she approached him. A fitted black coat dropped from his broad shoulders to his knees. His concentration allowed her to admire his athletic figure in detail. And to steel her nerves.

  Then he turned, acknowledging her presence with a knowing smile. She realized with a blush he was aware she’d been conducting a clandestine appraisal of his person. Her curiosity seemed to amuse him.

  “You look nothing like a man in fear of his life, Simon. One would swear you hadn’t a care in the world.”

  “How lovely to see you.” He moved with ease around the bulky desk toward her. “I hope you finally slept well.”

  “Not a wink. I wondered whether Aunt Glynnis had given you second thoughts. Have you come to retract your offer?”

  “I’m made of sterner stuff.”

  “I tend to agree.”

  His eyes slid over her. “You aren’t insubstantial yourself. But even if I changed my mind the rest of your family wouldn’t allow me past the city gates. We can’t call off the engagement without provoking greater scandal.”

  “How did you win my aunt over?”

  He shrugged. “I was myself. That is all.”

  “That is more than enough,” she said grudgingly.

  He bent his head to hers. She held her breath, tantalized by the scent of minty shaving soap on his thin cheeks. “Your aunt would like us to go through the rigors of courtship.”

  “There really isn’t time,” she murmured, his closeness a disturbance. He was so gorgeous and good-hearted that she felt guilty he wasn’t marrying a woman he had chosen. “I don’t need a courtship.”

  “Why don’t we sit down on the sofa?” he politely suggested. “You look discomposed all of a sudden. I hope my appearance here isn’t upsetting.”

  “I shall have to be strong. Stop treating me as if my veins run with maiden’s water and not blood.”

  His hand slid under her elbow. “Sit down, for heaven’s sake. I won’t bite.”

  “You kiss.”

  “You are very kissable.”

  She sank down on the sofa in an unruffled pose, but she doubted Simon was deceived. He had lived a bachelor’s life in London while she had stitched tapestries in the turret for her brothers to use as dartboards. Mercifully the Simon she remembered was not a man to abuse his power.

  He brushed back his coattails and sat down beside her. Ravenna realized she was staring at his face and glanced down at the cushion propped in the middle of the sofa. She had to accustom herself to his company. But what she wanted to do was caress his face. His damaged beauty fascinated her.

  “On the subject of courtship,” he said, bringing her back to earth. “We could make a show of it. Or you could plead a sudden indisposition to keep you out of view.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked, glancing up.

  He smiled at her indulgently, and she thought that she might enjoy the illusion of pursuit. How could she complain when such an alluring man offered to court her?

  They contemplated each other over the strategic cushion.

  “An indisposition,” he said, “could imply anything from mumps to a mad fit, which would allow you seclusion until you ‘recover’ or Society moves to another scandal. No matter how poorly we have behaved, the world will soon find new victims to devour.”

  “Why can’t you be the one to go mad or have the mumps?”

  His mouth curled. “Because then I would have to stay at home without an excuse to watch over you until the wedding.”

  He moved the cushion aside. He might have been playing chess. He said carefully, “Elopement is another possibility. With your relatives naturally in on the ruse.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s not the best idea,” he agreed. “For the time being you are safer with your family nearby.”

  “I’ve no inclination to remain housebound indefinitely, threat or not,” she said. “I’ll go genuinely mad. Your assailant may never be found. Would you lock me away forever?”

  “It is a tempting thought, having you all to myself. However, I’d rather have a compliant bride than a captive one.” He glanced back at the door, his voice falling conspiratorially. “There are countless ways for a dedicated husband to entertain his wife in the privacy of their own home. Books, kisses, conversation, lessons in love. Long walks in the hall.”

  “And these lessons are to instruct me on how to entertain you?” she said with an arch smile.

  “How perceptive you are.”

  “I shall probably regret asking this, but what do you desire in a duchess?”

  “I’ve never put together a duchess file,” he said, his eyes kindling.

  “Do you have a standard of beauty?”

  “I wouldn’t say that a woman’s appearance is the only quality that attracts me. It certainly isn’t enough to keep my interest.”

  “Then?”

  “Passion, I think.” His brow furrowed. “By which I am not referring to carnality. Character, as I’ve said, is what ultimately matters -- a lady who lives life to the fullest and cares as much for others as herself. Not a saint, mind you. I appreciate a woman who can laugh deeply. And love.”

  “I perceive blank pages in this file.”

  “I suppose my ideal duchess is whatever you are. Do I measure up to your standards?”

  “That remains to be seen,” she teased him. “I can’t fault your appearance. You’re too handsome for your own good. As to your character, well, I once thought you were aloof, but perhaps you’re sad. You scowl more than you smile. You always did. You were lonely when you were young, weren’t you?”

  “How could I have been? I had a passel of servants and advisors to shadow me. And two siblings.”

  “But the three of you were kept apart,” she said slowly.

  “We have all our roles to play,” he said. “I was raised to be the heir to a dukedom. You were raised for marriage.”

  “It appears I wasn’t raised properly. I made a tragedy of my betrothal. You at least act as befitting your position.”

  He crossed his arms behind his head, openly amused by her analysis. “I didn’t realize you’d given me that much consideration. Or that my brooding countenance displeased you. Do you want me to grin like a marionette all day long?”

  “You’re the one who insisted I smile at Grayson’s party.”

  “That was for your family. You can do as you like when we’re alone.”

  She fidgeted, wondering when the actual courtship would begin. “Did you come here to see me or Heath?”

  “Both of you, although I’d rather spend time sitting here for a while.”

  “We won’t get away with much romantic folly in this house,” she whispered. “Heath was a spy, and I vow that if speck of dust changes position, he’ll take notice.”

  “He’s still involved in espionage,” he whispered back, lowering his arms. “A man with his in
tellect isn’t content to read newspapers at his club and discuss politics with other gentlemen.”

  “I expect he’s listening to our every word.”

  “He might be if he were home. He was called away on business. I was told to make myself comfortable until he returns.”

  “Julia invited you inside?”

  “Indirectly, yes. She sent down a message through the footman that she was in the middle of an important appointment and wouldn’t see me until she was finished.”

  “You have the devil’s timing.”

  “Perhaps. Anyway, I don’t want to stir up dust. I want to reacquaint myself with you and that isn’t a royal secret. Thinking about kissing you again kept me up all the damned night.”

  “You are a scandalous man to admit that this early in the morning. But -- if you really want to kiss me there’s nothing between us except a cushion and a false courtship.” She nudged the cushion to the carpet. “And one obstacle is gone.”

  “You like to live dangerously, don’t you? I could take that as a gauntlet thrown.”

  She glanced down, feeling worldly and half as wicked as he was. “It was. Do you accept?

  “For life.”

  He leaned into her until their lips almost touched. She waited and at length lifted her eyes. The naked fire in his gaze sent a flare of anticipation through her. He looked as if he had more on his mind than kissing her.

  “Why are you frowning?” she whispered.

  His fingertip shaped her cheekbone, her chin, and slowly dropped into the deep vale of her décolletage. Her lips parted on a silent exclamation. Wicked she’d wanted and he was as good as his word.

  “I frown when I concentrate,” he said quietly.

  She half-closed her eyes in expectation as his mouth nibbled her earlobe and then came down on hers. He drew her lower lip between his teeth. Her breathing suspended, she felt his hand brush the underside of her breast, a negligent caress that quickened her blood. His fingers outlined her taut nipple through her silk dress. He flicked his tongue across hers. An insistent throb spread through her stomach.

  “Simon?”

  “Mmm.” He molded his body to hers at an angle that warned her not to underestimate him. His heavy arousal pressed through the pleats of her gown. She sat tight, shaking inwardly, and prayed she would not melt in the heat of his body. Ruefully she realized that while she might aspire to be a wicked lady, she was in truth as worldly as the globe on Heath’s desk and as easily spun about.