A Vixen For The Devilish Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  He had been distracted and confused by it but Harry had tried to ignore her. But even during the game of whist, he would see her pause every few minutes and he would feel a pair of eyes on him. He briefly regretted that he had not come outright and asked her what was going on in her mind. But she was a temperamental one and he had not wanted to provoke her.

  Besides, most of his attention had been taken by Adelia, and he had much preferred to lavish her with his regard instead of worrying about her sister.

  “What do you want, Lady Dorothea?” Harry spat out, feeling instantly ashamed at his bitter and annoyed tone.

  He had come into earshot of his butler whose head shot up, and he looked at Harry in surprise for a moment before composing himself.

  “I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

  Harry shook his head in embarrassment. “Nothing, Perry. Carry on.”

  Harry retired to his library, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. At the end of the day, he resolved to find out what Adelia’s thoughts were on her sister’s sudden change of heart. If Adelia thought it was genuine, then Harry would go along with it.

  Two days later, he called upon Adelia. He found her in the drawing room of Cornhill Estate, intently scratching away at her French assignment, with her books spread around her. Lady Cornhill was nowhere in sight and neither was Adelia’s governess. Her lady’s maid was sitting in the corner, hands in her lap. Adelia barely looked up as Harry sat down in the chair next to her.

  “Lady Cornhill's gone to call upon Lady Crowley. I do believe she is ill or indisposed—I’m not sure which. Lady Dorothea went with her. So we are alone here. That’s probably not proper but I don’t mind if you do not. So, Harry, what has you so agitated?” Adelia had laid down her quill and now looked Harry straight in the eye. He had no idea how she knew these things. She just seemed to have this intuition when Harry wanted to talk to her about anything.

  Taking a deep breath, he began, “So, er, I do not know if you know this but when I left here the other day after our game of whist, Lady Dorothea came after me. She said she was off to visit Lady Francesca and wanted to walk with me. I found it a little strange but there was not much I could do at the moment.”

  Adelia nodded her understanding.

  “So I wanted to ask your opinion, seeing as she’s your sister...what do you think of her behavior change?” Harry trailed off and looked at Adelia, who had that knowing look in her eyes.

  “Well, I too was puzzled at her change when she began to treat me with courtesy and respect. But now, I think she has seen the light. And I am glad for her.”

  “I know, but it was just odd. I have observed her since before we met and she has been phenomenally selfish, almost bordering on cruel, definitely thoughtless and rude. She cared for no one but herself. But now, suddenly, she is concerned for my welfare? And yours? Does she want to be friendly? She is happy for us? It’s a lot—”

  “Yes, it is. But a big change has happened. Can you imagine discovering you have a long-lost sister? Why, Lady Cornhill can hardly go through the day without bursting into tears. If anything was going to affect her, I would imagine that would do it.”

  Harry snorted. “If you say so.”

  “Come, Harry. If she is actually turning over a new leaf like she says she is, you have to give it some time before you go tearing her down. Just wait a bit. Do you mind her making nice with you, or would you actually consider being a friend to her? Soon, she will be your sister-in-law, after all.”

  “I suppose so. There has just been a lot of changes in my life recently. Perhaps I am not taking it as well as I’d hoped.”

  “You are too hard on yourself.” She reached out and squeezed his hand, “It will be all right. We shall get through this.”

  Harry sighed. “I did not wish to bring you down. Come, tell me what you would like to do today. I have brought you some books on the supernatural for your reading pleasure. You had said you took a wicked pleasure in reading about fairies and such....”

  Adelia smiled, “Yes, my moth— I mean, my foster mother would be upset if she knew I was reading such things. She always was superstitious.”

  “And even now you delight in getting away with it?” Harry smiled at the twinkle in her eyes even as she shrugged self-deprecatingly.

  “I think that deep down, we never lose the delight in doing what is forbidden.”

  “Indeed,” he leaned in, his lips hovering over hers. “Like kissing you is forbidden? I feel a great desire to do it.”

  She gave him a knowing look which intensified before she looked away, staring into space, deep in thought. Then she turned back to Harry.

  “Well, then…what are you waiting for?”

  Chapter 22

  The Kissing Game

  He leaned forward slowly, keeping green eyes locked on gold, and she found that she could not look away—did not want to look away. Their lips touched, warm and soft, and she knew if someone walked in right now— her birth mother, the butler, anyone—it would not be a good thing.

  She could not bring herself to care.

  His tongue snaked out of his mouth, laving against her lips and she parted them, letting him in. The scent of him overwhelmed her, sandalwood and the smoke of a cheroot. His tongue tasted of the wine he must have drunk before he came. It was intoxicating. She wondered if one could get drunk from the fumes emanating from someone else’s mouth. Because she felt quite giddy and unsettled just from the tiny contact of his tongue gently caressing her bottom lip before reaching into her mouth and playing with her own.

  Adelia felt a hysterical giggle bubbling up within her and pressed tighter to Harry’s lips to keep it inside. She felt warm hands circling her waist, not pulling her closer or holding her tight. Just…touching.

  It was distracting. She could feel her flesh wanting to jump as if she was a spooked horse. She wanted him to touch her more, even as she wanted him to let her go. Her own hands grasped tentatively at his shirt, fisting it and pulling him unconsciously closer.

  What do I want?

  Her heart was pounding beneath her bosom and she could hardly breathe. His finger moved an infinitesimal inch, rubbing gently against her waist and she gasped, mouth opening wider and allowing him to plunder her as he pleased.

  His lips remained gentle, questing, not trying to rush her into anything. She did not know if she was sad or disappointed about it. Her body felt as if it was on fire, at the same time, her extremities were cold. She did not know what had possessed her to ask him for a kiss. Perhaps she was a little more disturbed than she had thought about her sister running after him.

  If indeed that was what it was.

  Lady Dorothea was still learning how to be a warmer person. Very likely, she just did not understand that the boundaries of gentry still applied. Or she truly wanted to help Harry. Adelia could not fault her for that.

  Mine.

  The word reverberated in her mind even as she pulled Harry closer and he stopped simply holding her waist, and encircled it with his warm, strong hands.

  She made a sound of wanting in her throat and was instantly embarrassed. By the way he tightened his grip on her, she had to assume that Harry had heard it. His mouth was a little more aggressive, his teeth nipping at her mouth before he sucked into it, tasting, tickling, tantalizingly tentative licks that were more arousing than any plundering demand.

  She longed for him to take her, make her his, even if she was not sure what that might entail. She knew she could not expect more from him than this and still remain undisgraced. Harry was no rake to take what was not his. Still, she knew they were tempting fate, skirting the very edges of propriety. Should his hand wander even a little, they might not be able to go back.

  Adelia did not know what would show on her face. Would her mother be able to tell that she was stripped of her innocence? Was that even what she wanted?

  She made a sound between a whimper and a moan and felt him struggle before he pulled back, to look int
o her eyes.

  “F-forgive me. I should not ha-have,” he stammered, still breathing hard, his hands still gripping her waist as if he was unable to let go.

  “Tis my fault. I goaded you into it.” She made no attempt to remove herself from his embrace.

  They stared at each other in silence.

  The sound of footsteps in the corridor finally had him dropping his hands and moving out of her immediate vicinity. They could do nothing, however, about their heaving breaths.

  “Di-did I tell you about I have that book that tells the story of changelings?” Harry said and for a moment, Adelia could hardly understand his words.

  “Changelings?” she asked.

  “Yes. It originates in Scotland, I do believe. When a woman gives birth, and the child is sickly, sometimes it was believed that the fairies came for the real child and left a changeling behind.”

  “Oh…” Adelia blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog of desire from her mind. “Is that so? How fascinating.”

  “I shall try to remember to bring it for you when next I visit.”

  “I should be much obliged.”

  They continued to blink at each other, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering with yearning. They dare not touch even though the footsteps in the corridor had faded away.

  Harry got to his feet. “I should take my leave.”

  “Oh?” Adelia could not hide her disappointment. “Already?”

  “Yes, it would be for the best, before I forget myself completely.”

  Adelia smiled wryly. “Now why does that not sound nearly as threatening as it should?”

  Harry smiled back. “Probably because we are both depraved.”

  “You could be right about that.”

  He bowed smartly. “I shall bid you good day, Adelia.”

  “Good day to you, Harry.”

  * * *

  Lord Cornhill had a habit of riding out over his estate in the mornings, and then spending the hours after breakfast attending to business. He devoted his afternoons and evenings to his family and now, with the advent of Adelia in their lives, they were busy introducing her to society. To that end, Lady Cornhill had suggested a house party for which they had invited as many members of the ton as would attend.

  Lord Cornhill now spent those afternoons and evenings participating in whatever entertainments his wife thought would divert their guests. Since the first of those guests had arrived, his morning rides had been in the company of those gentlemen who desired to take exercise, but he had still found them a pleasant escape from the unaccustomed bustle of his household.

  Unfortunately, this morning, the weather was too wet to venture forth on any but the most urgent of errands. Lord Cornhill breakfasted early before retreating to his library. He intended to write to his man of business in London concerning several matters before his guests diverted his attentions. Hardly any of his guests possessed an intellectual bent, and so he predicted a few hours to himself, something he had been sorely missing of late.

  Perhaps he had spent too many years rusticating on his estates, as his wife had often chided him. He was aware that a country house party could hardly compare to a crush at the height of the Season, and yet, he longed for the time when he would once again resume his orderly existence.

  When he did receive a guest in his library, he was not surprised that it was the Duke. Lord Cornhill was surprised, in fact, that the Duke had committed to staying the entire four days of the house party. He was not one to socialize with the ton. He knew that the gentleman was only here in order to ensure that his bond with Adelia was respected by other members of the ton. Lord Cornhill was not so old that he had forgotten the possessive nature that young love could take.

  He smiled to himself, shaking his head. The Duke would no doubt make a suitable son-in-law and to his relief, Dorothea was none the worse for him having chosen her sister over her.

  It was the second reason he had agreed to this house party. Perhaps Dorothea would find a gentleman who could hold her attention and pique her interest. Perhaps in that way, they could look forward to a double wedding next spring.

  That would indeed be a dream come true. Lord Cornhill wanted nothing more than for his daughters to be happy and settled, preferably close by. Nonetheless, he was grateful for the harmony of his household and prayed that it would continue for a long time to come. Finding their daughter after nineteen years was an unexpected gift, one he would savor forever.

  Chapter 23

  House Party

  A discreet cough caught Adelia’s attention, directing it away from the fabric she was embroidering. She’d come to find it soothing when she was anxious. The number of people currently milling about the house definitely made her nervous.

  “They’re awaiting you on the lawn, My Lady,” said her new lady’s maid, who stood in her open doorway. Adelia thought her name might be Anna but she was not completely sure.

  Adelia was seated by the window looking out at the throng of people filling the vast lawn at the rear of the Cornhill estate. The place was quite grand, the Harringtons’ prosperity able to keep it in flawless condition.

  Its manicured grounds were to be the site of most of this week’s house party, ostensibly to commemorate her entry into polite society. Adelia personally felt its purpose was to bring together as many eligible bachelors in one place as possible, so that Dorothea could have her pick of them. Or maybe it was she who was meant to widen her prospects? She was not sure of that, either.

  It was a strange life, but a necessary one, or so Dorothea insisted. Adelia deferred to her in the matter, seeing as it was she who had lived the life of a gentlewoman while Adelia was little more than an interloper. “Thank you,” she told the lady’s maid and stood.

  Adelia removed her apron and looked down at what she wore, a white gown, high-waisted and flowing, of white muslin printed with bunches of blue roses arrayed in stripes from bodice to toe. The gown had a modest scoop about the neck. She wore a gold band around her head, which kept her hair out of her eyes when she leaned forward as she sewed. She decided to leave it, fluffing up the tumbling blonde curls around her face, and making their cascade down her neck seem contrived rather than arbitrary.

  She folded her embroidery and left her chamber. She just touched foot to the last step when hard fingers wrapped around her arm and pulled her into the little alcove beneath the stairs.

  “I’ve just heard that Lord Milford will be arriving tomorrow,” Dorothea whispered in her ear. “Heir to the Duke of Edmure. And Glanville Denny Woodrow, the Earl of Braewood, is arriving today. You must remember their names, for they are important to the family. Do not embarrass me, all right?”

  “But—”

  Dorothea’s face did a complicated dance where she seemed to be fighting for a certain expression but failed. In the end, she sighed. “See here, do not worry, I shall be right there with you. Just do what I do.”

  Adelia sighed. “I will.”

  “Thank you.”

  Adelia blinked at Dorothea, her mind in turmoil. She loved her sister, she wanted to be worthy of her efforts and her regard. Sometimes it was just so difficult. This family, this life, was so foreign to what she was used to.

  “They’re expecting me in the garden,” she said dully, pulling away from Dorothea.

  Dorothea let her go, and she escaped, her arm smarting as she blinked away the moisture in her eyes. She hoped that anyone observing her would think that she was blinking from emerging into the suddenly bright summer sun.

  The ladies spotted her and waved to indicate she should join them.

  “My Lady, so good of you to join us,” murmured Lady Cornhill, beaming at her.

  Adelia took a deep breath to bolster her patience. “My sister wished for a word with me as I was coming to you,” she said carefully. “I apologize for my tardiness.”

  Her mother waved away her words. “You’re here now.”

  Yes, I am.

  Adelia forced a smile and ai
med it at the others: a distant cousin, Lady Valerie Wyndell, and her daughter, as well as other members of the haute ton. They were all striking ladies, chestnut-colored hair or blonde or even dark; blue, grey, or hazel eyes, sculpted cheekbones. Adelia felt very out-of-place with them, with her tawny hair and unusual eyes. If it were not that Dorothea was her spitting image, she did not know if she would be able to stand there amongst them. She already felt a fraud as it was.

  Adelia turned away from their chatter and her eyes fell on two gentlemen descending the marble stairs leading from the terrace to the lawn. She recognized one, although the other was a stranger. Her face lit up with delight and she almost leaped toward him before remembering herself.