Loving the Wrong Lord

by Bethany M. Sefchick

Phin didn’t blame her. Her father was a madman, and that was being polite about the matter. Not that he would mention such things because doing so wasn’t proper. Phin was always proper. Well, not really, but everyone believed he was, and this young lady was likely no different.

  Or was she?

  Did she see what everyone else did? Or did she, with her wise eyes and old soul, see more? Did she see past the gossip and the scandal and the frigid, proper façade to the living, breathing man beneath?

  Could she tell there was more to Phin Trew than the stiff and proper illusion that was the Duke of Fullbridge?

  Or maybe he was just being foolish and fanciful.

  Lady Josie was from Cumbria, after all, and she had lived there for her entire life as a virtual prisoner of the man the Bloody Duke and several of Phin’s friends had carted off to the docks less than an hour ago. Perhaps she had no knowledge of who or what Phin was supposed to be, save for whatever lies her father had told her over the years.

  And whatever she read in the papers, of course. Phin assumed The Town Tattler reached Cumbia – eventually.

  Lies she likely did not believe, however, as she was currently standing alone next to him – though still in full view of almost the entire ballroom as was proper. If this pixie truly believed Phin was as wretched as her father had claimed? She probably would have run screaming from this place an hour ago, begging to return home.

  Or something similar. Phin had little experience with hysterical females as his sister Priscilla didn’t have a hysterics-prone bone in her body. And Faith? Well, Faith had been temperamental and quick to anger, but fits of hysterics – true hysterics anyway – were not in her repertoire.

  Still…this fairy sprite hadn’t fled when she’d had the chance. Instead, she had shown remarkable strength in standing up to her father and then determination when she’d been introduced to Phin himself. Phin admired that about her. Like him, there was more to this slip of a woman than met the eye.

  “Your father is no longer here.” Phin was tired of melancholy. He’d endured enough of that over the years. Ever since Faith had died during childbirth and her recently-not-so-dearly-departed-father had hounded him – no, blamed him – in the years that had followed, Phin’s life had been nothing more than duty mixed with coldness and a touch of misery.

  “No, he is not here, is he?” Lady Josie notched her chin higher, and for a long moment, she stood there looking proud and defiant. Lord above, Phin wished that she was older or at least a lady of looser morals. He had a feeling she would be a hellion in bed.

  Not that the saintly Lord Phin was supposed to think about women in his bed. At least not according to the gossips and his late father-in-law. No, he put women of all sorts on pedestals and treated them like glass because he was still in mourning for his first love. Phin certainly wasn’t supposed to imagine tumbling ladies like this one in the middle of his conservatory back at Havenhurst.

  Or at least that’s what people thought.

  Except that Phin was still very much a man and while he needed a wife and mother for his son? He also had far more physical needs. Very base ones if the way his mouth all but watered at the thought of Lady Josie’s rather lovely breasts was any indication.

  God above, what was wrong with him? Too long without a good fuck, most likely. As a general rule, he didn’t dally with courtesans or bar maids, and he only occasionally took mistresses. His last mistress had left him the previous fall. Meaning he was in desperate need of female companionship.

  Too bad it wasn’t proper for him to just pick a woman – much like Lady Josie – and give her a good bedding.

  And if the old tabbies and dragons of London – many of whom had given him his saintly status where females were concerned – even imaged he had such lustful thoughts? They would likely pass out where they stood. Or run screaming from the nearest ballroom.

  That, he grinned to himself, would be something delightful to see.

  “Is something amusing you, my lord?” Lady Josie raised one delicate eyebrow in question, a quizzical expression on her face. “Or is the company not to your liking? I am hardly a London sophisticate, after all, though I am told I do have my moments.”

  Again, Lady Josie surprised him. In general, ladies did not comment upon a gentleman’s thoughts in such a bold manner. Then again, this was not a normal young lady. She was…unique.

  And fascinating. Captivating. And he wanted to bed her. Badly. As soon as possible.

  May his soul rot in hell for thinking such a thing.

  “Just thinking about the absurdity of life, my lady.” An irrational part of Phin simply wished to call this woman by her Christian name, but that would be downright scandalous.

  He wasn’t scandalous. Not any longer. Such things didn’t bother him. At least he didn’t think they did. Still, attracting that kind of gossip wasn’t in his nature any longer.

  Still, he wished to speak her name just the same. Which begged the question of what in the hell was wrong with him, other than a lack of bedsport. He had no idea.

  Glancing around, Lady Josie gave him a secretive wink. “Life is absurd, my lord. Once you realize that? I find you have a much easier time of things.”

  Unable to stop himself, Phin laughed – loud and long. It felt good. Very good. For the first time since Faith had passed nearly six years ago now, he felt as if he was coming back to himself – and he had this unsophisticated fairy sprite of a woman to thank for that.

  Absurd indeed.

  And for the first time in those six long years, Phin began to wonder what the future held. What it might look like. He wondered about what might be next. If only someone – hell, anyone – could see past the perfectly cold exterior to the rather flawed and most certainly hot-blooded man beneath.

  Josie looked at the man beside her, laughing as if he had never heard anything so funny in all of his life. This man was supposed to be a duke. While she freely admitted that she knew little about dukes – or any other members of the peerage beyond her own father, actually – she was fairly certain they did not behave like this. Or did they?

  Lud, she wished that she knew.

  Actually, Josie wished for a great many things just then, beginning with a father who was in possession of all of his mental faculties. Oh, and a father who had allowed her to venture just a bit farther than the local village once she came of age. Until she had come to London two days ago, Josie had never been farther from her home than the distant edge of Sharpe-On-Edgecombe, and even then, that had only been to visit the local modiste’s shop and nothing more.

  Now she was standing in the middle of a glittering London ballroom filled with the very cream of London society, and she didn’t have a single idea regarding how she should behave. Or what was proper. Oh, she had a general idea. She had endured a string of governesses, after all. But learning from a book was not quite the same thing as putting that knowledge into practice.

  She might have grown and matured quite a bit since her cousin, Penny, had last seen her, but that still didn’t make Josie quite ready for the bright lights of London.

  On the other hand, it wasn’t as if she had much of a choice.

  Not after her father had hauled her here and then chosen to display the depths of his madness for all of the world to see, anyway.

  “Lord Fullbridge? Should I fetch someone? Are you…well?” Josie reached out to place a delicate hand on his arm when it seemed as if the man was gasping for breath.

  “Quite well,” he replied as he wiped at a tear that threatened to spill out of the corner of his eye. “Better than I’ve been in some time, actually.” Finally, he drew in a deep breath. “Lady Josephine Marshwood? Would you care to dance?”

  For as little as Josie knew about London, she was quite certain that if a duke asked a lady to dance, she said yes.

  “I would be honored, your grace.” She took the arm he offered and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor where she could hear gossip regarding the evening
’s events beginning to swirl.

  “I am Phin,” he whispered in her ear, making the hairs on the back of her neck tingle in a rather pleasant and far too exciting way. “When we are alone? I am just Phin. Not a duke. Not to you.”

  Josie wanted to ask him why she was different, and if that reason, whatever it might be, was good or bad. However, before she could, Lord Fullbridge – no, Phin – swept her into his arms and into the steps of the waltz. He didn’t even ask her if she had permission to waltz. He simply assumed. She did, of course, though that was only due to a rushed approval and voucher to Almack’s that someone had procured for her before she had even arrived in London.

  Someone probably paid off by her father, and she hoped no one in polite society ever learned about that particular indiscretion.

  “And I am just Josie,” she whispered as he twirled her away from the more crowded parts of the dance floor. “I am no one special, your grace. Some would argue that I’m not even a lady. Not after the way my father has behaved recently.”

  “You are not responsible for the sins of your father,” Phin corrected and pulled her just a little closer, which made Josie’s body heat inside all the way to her toes. In a pleasurable way, of course. “You are an innocent.”

  She inclined her head. “Not so innocent as many would assume, I’m afraid.” Even though she knew she should not, she met Phin’s gaze directly. “I watched my father turn into a monster right before my eyes. I saw his brutality and felt it directly. It is difficult to remain innocent after such things.”

  To her surprise, Phin nodded in agreement, his own eyes far too knowing. “Indeed, I suspect that would be the case.” For a moment, he studied her. “You are wise beyond your years, Josie.”

  “So, I am told, Phin.” In truth, there were days when Josie felt as if she was the oldest living person in the world.

  But not now. Not tonight.

  Now she felt young and free and, if not beautiful, then pretty at least.

  At least she felt pretty when Phin looked at her. As if he saw her and not the disgraced Lord Telford’s daughter.

  She also felt hot and achy and tingly. Not because of the gentlemen in this room who looked at her lasciviously, as if they wished to undress the innocent, countrified miss from the outer reaches of Cumbria. She felt that way because of the man currently spinning her across Lady Chillton’s dance floor. The only man to ever look at her as if she mattered and had a brain.

  It was, Josie had to admit, a very gratifying feeling, and she would have to be careful not to allow it to go to her head. Or worse, her heart.

  “Have you ever been young, Josie?” Phin frowned at his choice of words. “What I mean to say is, have you ever felt like a debutante?” This time he growled. “No, that is not right either. Dash it all! I am told I have a way with words and yet with you? I seem to trip over my own tongue.”

  Josie laughed. “For what it is worth, I have taken your meaning quite well. And to answer your question, no, I have never felt like a carefree, youthful girl. I am not certain I would even know how to be. Everyone I have ever met tells me I seem old, if not ancient, to them. As if I was simply born an adult.”

  Odd as it sounded, that was true. Josie did not frolic or laugh or giggle as many young ladies her own age did. She never had, not even when she had been a child. Instead, she had been a serious little thing, always worried about what her father might do next or if the earldom would have the funds to continue given the way her father spent money as if it grew on trees.

  She had no idea why she was this way. All she knew was that she was. And she could not seem to change.

  “I prefer to think of you as being wise,” Phin countered. “Wise beyond your years. A man would be a fool not to appreciate that.”

  Did he mean that he appreciated that about her? This was one area where Josie truly wished she was wise beyond her years. What did a lady do when a gentleman paid her such a compliment? It wasn’t exactly something that a simple “thank you” would cover. Or maybe it would?

  “And yet so many men do just that,” she finally replied, making certain to offer Phin a winsome smile to ease the sting of her words.

  That must have been the right thing to say because once again, the duke laughed loud and long, attracting the notice of nearly every pair of eyes in the room.

  But just then, Josie didn’t care because Phin was looking at her as if he wished to devour her, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t mind that a man was looking at her thus. In truth, she rather enjoyed the attention. More than that, she felt all tingly inside, and her blood began to thrum in her veins. She felt damp between her thighs, and her breasts began to ache, especially when she imagined this man touching her.

  She wanted this man. The certainty of that struck her hard and fast.

  Absurd and irrational as it was, she wanted the Duke of Fullbridge for her own.

  She shouldn’t. They would be nothing short of a scandal.

  She hated scandal and gossip. Now more than ever after what her father had done.

  Such things could ruin her life. She could be given the cut direct, or worse, cast out of Society.

  She should do her best to avoid scandal, gossip, and all of that unpleasantness.

  In short, she should stay far, far away from Phin – the man her father had attempted to destroy.

  But that didn’t change the fact that Josie still desired him.

  And she had absolutely no idea what to do about that.

  Chapter Two

  May 1821

  Lady Darby’s Ballroom

  London

  “Did you hear about Lord Telford’s plans for Lord Fullbridge?”

  “Gads, yes! Ghastly, if you ask me, to use his ward in that fashion! Utterly wretched! I know the man lost his daughter, but such treachery is no excuse!”

  “Praises be that he escaped the man’s plans thanks to Lord Candlewood and the delightful Mr. Greer! Now the duke can select a proper bride. No more vicars’ daughters.”

  “Does the man even wish to wed again?”

  “Rumor has it his first marriage was miserable, so I can’t imagine why he would. Still, the boy needs a mother. Not to mention that the dukedom needs a spare.”

  “I’ve been told Lady Tabitha is currently seeking a husband. And I’ve heard he loved his first wife to distraction. A veritable saint, she was.”

  “Saint, my foot. Lady Mercy was as cold as a witch’s teat. I tell you true. Lady Tabitha is a better choice, I suppose. Still, put her on a glass pedestal, he will. Mark my words. He’s that sort now. Should he even get that close to her. I’m told she’s quite skittish. Still, she would be a saint in his eyes. More so than his first wife.”

  “Is that such a terrible thing?”

  “Perhaps. If you are Lady Tabitha. Though she is rumored to be quite frigid as well, so she might not mind.”

  “What about Lady Josephine? She is fair enough of face, I suppose, if a bit rough. Comes from too much time in the country.”

  “Truly? You would suggest that? After all her father did to Lord Fullbridge? Why would the duke put himself through that sort of suffering again? Do you think he’s mad? Her family certainly is!”

  “You do have a point. She is pretty, but her father? So unfortunate! And after her sister, too, no less!”

  “The duke can do better, I’m certain.” A long pause. “Do you think he still desires someone with the perfect breeding hips?”

  “Probably. He is a man with only a single heir after all.”

  “I wonder if he would be interested in my Hortensia. There’s only Mad Uncle Silas in my family, but no one talks about him. At least not if we can help it.”

  “Your delightful Hortensia does have the perfect hips for breeding. Very sturdy and all of that.”

  “I know! Isn’t it wonderful? Just think! A duchess in the family! I swear, I think I shall faint!”

  As Lord Phineas Trew – Phin to his family and close friends – m
ade his way through Lady Darby’s enormous ballroom, he could hear the gossips whispering about him behind their fans as he passed by the row of wallflowers and old dragons and tabbies that could be found at nearly every London gathering. Including this one.

  Actually, some of them didn’t even bother to whisper – or have the good sense to hide their gossiping faces from his view. Rather, they stared at him boldly, as if all but daring him to contradict him. Which he would have done if such a thing would have been proper. How could so many supposedly intelligent people get things so bloody fucking wrong? They didn’t even try to get anything correct any longer. Lies had become the truth, and no one cared.

  Then again, this was London, which in and of itself explained a lot. This place survived on gossip and lies, scandal, and intrigue. It was the way of the world, and if you were a peer? It was ten times worse.

  Phin was also a widowed duke with a young son in need of a mother, which also explained everything else that London’s thirst for the worst sort of gossip did not. As everyone knew, dukes often made for the most delicious gossip. Widowed dukes currently seeking a new bride? So much more the better.

  Phin might be the Duke of Fullbridge, but he was also currently the subject of every gossip and tabloid newspaper in London and beyond, unfortunately, and, again, much to his annoyance.

  Then again, some of the gossip was partly his fault, though not all.

  His ill-thought-out spring house party where he had attempted to secure a match with any number of eligible young ladies had not been his best idea for a number of reasons. Looking back, he could see the error of his ways. At the time, however? He had thought the plan rather brilliant. It hadn’t been.

  The years he had spent keeping marriageable women at a distance and earning himself the reputation of a gentleman who viewed the fairer sex as fragile, delicate creatures that should be looked at but not touched, not even to bed them and get them with child? Yes, that hadn’t helped much either. Make that mistake number two.

  Allowing unchecked gossip and innuendo regarding his supposed devotion to his late wife spread like a wildfire had been mistake number three. Though to be fair, Faith’s recently departed (and not much missed) father had a hand in that too. The late Vicar Wilson had spouted that nonsense at every opportunity. Phin just hadn’t done anything to stop him, even though he knew he should have.