The Dangerous Duke of Dinnisfree

by Julie Johnstone

  He was tall and powerfully built, like a solid, unmovable oak. His slightly spread stance emphasized the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips encased in tan breeches. A shaft of sunlight crested over the covering at the front door to Madame Sullyard’s and struck the man’s head. His thick hair gleamed like burnished copper. The faint smile at his lips spread to a slow, wolfish one. Heaven above! She was gawking, and he knew it! She darted out from behind the tree, marched in the opposite direction to Jude’s door, and knocked. How utterly embarrassing to be caught gaping.

  Her hand froze in midair. That man behind her could very well be a client of hers in a few short hours. The idea was terrifying.

  The door flew open, and a hand shot out and dragged her inside. Jude stood before her, his gaze intense. He reached behind her and slammed the door.

  Arabella shuffled backward until her shoulder blades met wood. Behind Jude stood an older, rather distinguished silver-haired gentleman in a gray coat and gray pants.

  He smiled. “Hello, Miss Carthright.”

  She frowned, looking between the man and Jude. “How do you know my name?”

  The man’s eyebrows twitched upward, and he shot Jude a questioning look.

  Jude inclined his head as if to say, Go on.

  “Judas told me just moments ago. Did you bring the box?”

  She felt her own eyebrows rise.

  “It’s all right,” Jude said. “This is Mr. Winston, the rare commodities dealer of whom I spoke.”

  Mr. Winston looked surprised by Jude’s statement. Perhaps he’d not known Jude told her of him.

  Jude looked between them with an odd, almost satisfied grin. “Mr. Winston came back to Town earlier than he had planned.”

  Arabella could barely contain her excitement. This meant she could sell the box and not have to sell her body! She took the bag off her shoulder and pulled the jewelry box out as she glanced at Jude. “There’s something in it, but I don’t know what. If it’s valuable—”

  “I’ll get it back to Elizabeth,” Jude supplied.

  Arabella nodded with relief and thrust the box toward Mr. Winston. “Do you think you can sell it?”

  The man looked from her to the box, and then to Jude and back again until Jude nudged him. Mr. Winston blinked as if surprised. A bead of sweat had appeared on his forehead. “Er, I’m not sure. My tools are in the other room to open it. I’ll go examine it there and let you know momentarily.”

  Jude held a handkerchief out to him. “Still feeling ill, are you?”

  The man frowned. “What?”

  Jude motioned to the man’s head. “You’re sweating.”

  “Oh.” He snatched the handkerchief from Jude. “Yes, indeed. I still feel ill.” The man blotted his forehead as he turned and disappeared out of the small entranceway. When the sound of his footsteps had faded, Arabella exhaled the breath she’d not even realized she was holding until that moment.

  Jude bowed to her slightly. “You look lovely today. So fresh and innocent and trustworthy.”

  She quirked her mouth at his strange wistful tone. “Thank you, Jude.” More than that seemed odd to her, though, starting with how she’d been dragged into the house. “Why did you snatch me through the entrance? As if someone might see me.”

  “Oh, that. So sorry.” He shrugged. “When you knocked, I glanced out the window to see who was here, and I saw Madame Sullyard outside. I owe her a bit of money, you see, and I didn’t want to give her the opportunity to ask me for it at that moment.” He shrugged again.

  “Oh. I assumed Madame Sullyard would be arranging my becoming a-a…” Arabella couldn’t force the word impure out.

  “She is. Or she will be. Would have been.” He grinned. “But Mr. Winston is here now as I planned.”

  “As you planned? But you thought he was not in Town.”

  “Yes, I meant as I planned on occurring eventually.”

  “Judas!” came a roar from down the hall.

  Jude flinched, as did Arabella, and he pulled his brow into a deep frown. “Wait here.” He rushed out and disappeared the same way Mr. Winston had.

  Arabella’s chest tightened. She glanced around the small entranceway. There was nowhere to sit, which was a bit peculiar, but even more disturbing was the utter lack of any sort of decoration. Either Jude did not have the money to decorate, or he didn’t care to, or he deliberately hadn’t done so because… Why would someone put nothing personal in his home?

  Before she could address her concerns, the solid clap of footsteps coming toward her filled the silence. In the time it took to inhale a shaky breath, Jude rounded the corner, jewelry box in hand and his face tight with strain. Close on his heels was Mr. Winston. There was a necklace dangling from his right hand. Each step made the necklace sway, the gems glittering in the light. Arabella barely held in her gasp when she saw the enormous heart of diamonds surrounding a dazzling, huge emerald.

  Mr. Winston strode in front of Jude before coming to an abrupt halt inches from Arabella. Her body tensed immediately, but she stiffened her spine and raised her chin. “Is there something amiss?”

  His features hardened before her very eyes. “Did you open this box, Miss Carthright?”

  His curt tone stirred her anger. She was tired of people being rude to her. “The box was locked,” she replied, matching his cold tone icicle for icicle.

  “I already know that,” he retorted, his voice growing terser. “That was not my question.”

  She would have dearly loved to spin on her heel and leave this boorish man standing here, but she could not afford to. “I am not a magician,” she said. “No, I did not open the box. I did not have tools to do so as you did.” She purposely eyed the necklace he held. “I’m not quite sure what has you upset.”

  His face flushed, and he glanced at Jude as if it were Jude himself who’d upset the man.

  Jude put his hand on Mr. Winston’s shoulder. “Arabella, please forgive Mr. Winston. He is a man who is very passionate about the items he sells, and this jewelry case would have brought a great return to both of you.”

  “Would have?” she asked in a whisper. Her voice had abandoned her in a flash, along with a hefty amount of her hope.

  Jude’s eyes turned sad. “Yes, I’m sorry, but the case is damaged and it appears that someone tried to pry the lock open, so the jewelry box has lost all value.”

  Arabella’s gut clenched as she shook her head. “But that’s impossible. I looked at the jewelry box myself this morning, and it was perfect.”

  “To an untrained eye, Miss Carthright,” Mr. Winston said, his tone much calmer now than moments before, but he regarded her with distrustful eyes. The man still thought she’d tried to pry the box open! He moved his hand, and the necklace once again caught her attention.

  “Jude, you will get the necklace back to Lady Conyngham, correct? I mean, you didn’t know it was in the box did you?” Suspicion was stirring in her gut, though she prayed she was wrong. Had Jude had her take the box to get the necklace? It appeared to be worth quite a bit.

  He shook his head. “I had absolutely no notion it was there. I promise you, and I vow I will return it discreetly tomorrow when I see her. Do you believe me?” His gaze bore into her.

  Did she believe him? She nibbled on her lip. Did she have a choice? She had to believe him. She needed his help now more than ever. Finally, she nodded and Jude smiled.

  Without a word, Jude clapped Mr. Winston on the back. “Since we have no more business,” Jude said to the man, “I’ll show you my small garden, as I promised.” He turned to Arabella. “I won’t be but a moment. Follow us and you can wait in the study.”

  Arabella nodded and trailed in silence behind Jude and Mr. Winston. When they got to the study, Jude paused. “Here you are. I’ll return shortly.”

  She moved into the room as he and Mr. Winston continued toward the garden. Arabella was glad to see a very comfortable-looking settee in the room. Her feet were aching from the walk her
e. She strode across the small space toward the settee but jerked to a halt when she realized the jewelry box was sitting on the desk. She could not resist looking at the box one more time. A few steps closed the distance between her and the desk. She carefully picked up the box, which was open to reveal a velvet-lined rectangular space. There was only one compartment to the entire box. Arabella scrutinized the lock. It looked perfectly fine to her, but it was true that she did not have a trained eye.

  Voices raised in argument jerked her out of her study of the case, which she nearly dropped in fright. She quickly set it back on the desk and glanced toward the window behind the settee. Jude and Mr. Winston stood in the garden and were clearly arguing about something. Arabella frowned. She hoped that Jude was standing up for himself. Mr. Winston may be devoted to his profession, but that gave him no right to be nasty. She was tempted to move closer to the window to try to read their lips, but before she could make up her mind, Jude turned on his heel and strode away while Mr. Winston departed out of what appeared to be a back entrance.

  Within seconds, Arabella heard Jude approaching. He entered the room with a sigh and motioned for her to sit down as he went to his desk and took a seat. “I’m sorry about that, Miss Carthright. Mr. Winston is rather high-strung.”

  “At this point, I daresay it is acceptable for you to call me Arabella,” she replied. He was privy to her downfall, after all.

  Jude nodded. “I’m truly honored. Now”—he folded his hands together on top of the desk as he regarded her—“it appears things, as is usual with life events, have taken an unplanned detour.”

  “Well,” she said, attempting to joke and make herself less nervous, “I suppose my downfall was planned.”

  His eyes impaled her. “Not by me, Arabella. I vow to you that.”

  Well, he did have a hand and he had been the one to offer her the solution, but she kept the thoughts to herself. His sudden intensity made her uncomfortable.

  “It seems you will need my services to set up an appointment with Madame Sullyard, after all.”

  Arabella nodded, though her head suddenly felt impossibly heavy. “I—” She swallowed, her throat incredibly dry. “Yes.”

  Without a word, he picked up a bell and rang it. A man appeared immediately, dressed in full gold-and-burgundy livery. He regarded Arabella with wary eyes, but bowed to her, his salt-and-pepper hair unmoving from its slick-back state. “You summoned me.”

  Was this the butler? In all her nervousness, she’d not even truly taken note that a servant had not answered Jude’s door.

  Jude retrieved a quill, scratched something on a piece of foolscap with it, and held it out for the man. “Take this to Mary.”

  The butler secured the note and left without a word. Arabella fidgeted in her seat, her palms and underarms dampening with perspiration. What was she doing? She was not at all sure she could go through with this. Doubt seized her, and she scrambled to her feet. “I don’t think I can do it,” she blurted.

  Jude came swiftly around the desk to her. He put his arm around her shoulder and patted her. “My dear,” he said, squeezing her shoulder, “we can all do anything if necessity calls for it. Especially if it is to help someone we love. Or to protect them. Or to bring them to us as they should be.”

  Arabella immediately thought of her father and mother and bit down on her lip to stifle her cry. They needed her to be strong. She had to do this.

  Jude released her and faced her, shoving a fallen lock of his dark hair out of his eyes. “I take it by the look of despair on your face that you must do this—obtain money—to protect someone you love.”

  “Two people,” she whispered shakily.

  “Then gather up your courage,” he said with a wink. “I know it courses through your blood.”

  The door to the study opened and the butler entered. “Miss Morgan is here.”

  Jude nodded. “Thank you, Saxton. Show her in.”

  Arabella frowned. Who was this Miss Morgan?

  As Mr. Saxton turned, presumably to retrieve Miss Morgan, a beautiful woman with fiery-red hair gathered into a high creation at the crown of her head swept into the room. She brushed by the butler without acknowledging him. Miss Morgan, Arabella presumed, flicked her green gaze at Arabella, and her eyes narrowed into slits. “She’s too pretty. I don’t like it.”

  Arabella felt her eyebrows draw downward, confused. What was this woman talking about?

  Jude strode toward the woman, grasped her, and drew her to him in a crushing embrace that made Arabella’s mouth fall open. He kissed Miss Morgan full on the mouth, covering her lips with his, and the woman moaned. Arabella’s face heated, but her stomach fluttered and tingled. She’d never seen such an embrace in her life. People simply did not do such things in front of others, yet Jude, clearly, was different, as was this woman.

  When he pulled away, he looped his arm around a rather dazed Miss Morgan and smiled down at her. “There now. I told you she reminded me of my sister and not to be jealous. You know you have my heart and my loyalty.”

  Miss Morgan preened up at him. “Silver-tongued serpent,” she hissed, batting her long eyelashes at him. “What you requested should be simple. He’s still there.”

  “Who is still here?” Arabella asked.

  Jude flicked his gaze to her but did not reply. Instead, he refocused on Miss Morgan. “Excellent. Were you safe coming over here?”

  The woman scowled. “Why would you ask such silly questions? I’m always safe. You know Madame Sullyard.”

  “I do know the witch better than anyone,” Jude said in an ominous tone.

  Miss Morgan nodded. “She’s too busy to notice my departure, and anyway, she trusts me implicitly.”

  Jude kissed the woman on the nose. “As she should, my pet. You are her right-hand girl.”

  “Jude, will you not answer me?” Arabella fairly growled. “Who is still there?” Did Jude have someone in mind for her? And if so, how in heaven did he know the clientele at Madame Sullyard’s? Was it because of his secret relationship with Miss Morgan?

  As Jude simply stared at her without replying, Arabella considered him for a moment in his dark blue coat with gold buttons and his inexpressibles that fit him perfectly. She really knew nothing about this man, and yet she was allowing him to dictate to whom she would sell herself, and he was not answering her questions.

  She plunked her hands on her hips. “I thank you, Jude, for your help, but I demand a say in who I bed.” Her stomach plummeted as she said it. It was a struggle to even think it. Doing the deed was unimaginable.

  Miss Morgan snorted. “She’s feisty. And ignorant of the ways of the underworld.”

  Jude nodded but offered Arabella a smile. “The demireps do not get to choose their clients, Arabella. Just ask Mary.” He smacked Miss Morgan on the bottom. The woman didn’t even blush.

  “’Tis true,” Miss Morgan—Mary—replied. “Jude was my first client, and I didn’t want to bed him at all. I’d heard of his ferocious appetite.”

  Arabella pressed her hands to her cheeks. She’d have perhaps been less embarrassed to be standing here stark naked. She had never seen such openness in talk or intimacy.

  Mary smirked. “But then I fell in love with him.”

  “She’ll do anything for me,” Jude said matter-of-factly and with a grin.

  Arabella scowled. Including allowing him to bed others like Lady Conyngham, she supposed. But what did she know? Mary surely bedded others, didn’t she? Maybe they liked it that way. Arabella gulped at the thought. She could never stand to share the man she loved or allow another to touch her when her heart belonged to someone else.

  Mary suddenly tittered with laughter as she stared at Arabella. “You are a funny one. You wear your shock on your face. You are beautiful and innocent of the wicked ways of the world. She is perfect, Jude. You’ve outdone yourself. Madame Sullyard will be foaming at the mouth to have her as one of her girls.”

  Jude scowled but nodded. “The
witch will be pleased.”

  Arabella had a suspicion that perhaps she was not the first desperate woman in need of money that Jude had led to Madame Sullyard’s lair. But she couldn’t be angry. It didn’t matter how she came to be here. She had to be here to survive, so she was actually grateful to Jude.

  “Something simple has become complicated, which I don’t like,” Jude grumbled.

  “It always does,” Mary murmured. “You shall sort it out, I’m sure.”

  Arabella shifted from foot to foot. Were they now speaking of her or something else entirely?

  Jude gave Mary a peck on the cheek. “Go. Time is wasting away.”

  Mary nodded and moved toward Arabella. “Come,” she chirped in a startlingly cheery tone. “When I’m done with you, no man will be able to resist the temptation you present.”

  “Only one man,” Jude said in what sounded like a stern warning.

  Arabella dug her heels in when Miss Morgan tried to tug her out of the room. She eyed Jude. “What man? Is this man you speak of intended for me?”

  Jude nodded. “I assumed you would prefer to find a benefactor and become his sole mistress rather than host a different man every night.”

  Bile rose in Arabella’s throat, but she jerked her head in a nod. “You’re correct.” Her voice cracked.

  “Mary will help you as I have instructed her to do. Listen to her and you will catch the interest of the gentleman.”

  Mary nudged Arabella in the ribs. “Then he may just take you under him,” she teased in a throaty voice that made Arabella heat from head to toe. Mary winked at her. “And I daresay I doubt you’d find a complaint, though I personally wouldn’t know.”

  Arabella’s heart beat a vicious, painful rhythm. “Who is this man?”

  “The Duke of Dinnisfree,” Mary responded, and with a swift pull, Arabella followed her out the door.