His voice had gone low and husky, his eyes hooded with desire, and answering passion had warmed her blood.
She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the bed. “We’ve hours before—”
After a short rap on her door, the bubbly lady’s maid assigned to Theadosia barged in. The servant’s eyes rounded in surprise, and a blush scooted up her already ruddy cheeks.
“Beg your pardon, Your Grace.” She curtsied, her focus glued to the floor. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Sighing, he’d kissed Theadosia on the nose.
“I’ve just given my wife a new ball gown. Please see that the wrinkles are removed before tonight, and I want her hair worn down, please.”
The extraordinary amethyst and diamond parure set Theadosia wore, complete with a tiara fit for a princess, had been another gift from him, delivered as she dressed for the ball. She did feel like royalty, and today had been nothing short of magical.
She’d been the one to suggest that they wed today to save her mother-in-law additional work preparing for a grand wedding. It also spared Theadosia’s parents a great deal of awkwardness.
Papa had performed the ceremony, but neither he nor her mother were attending the ball. He’d vowed he didn’t deserve the privilege, but more probably, humiliation kept him away, as well as a renewed oath to avoid gaming of any sort, including cards. The news of his resignation and the reason behind his hasty notice had traveled swiftly through Colchester and the surrounding area.
Next week her parents would sail to Australia, accompanying a shipload of convicts and soldiers. The Church had magnanimously offered her father a position there as vicar; no one else showed the least interest in such a remote, primitive post. He’d been so grateful not to be defrocked, he’d eagerly accepted, but only after asking if Jessica might live with Theadosia and Victor. He would not risk towing his unmarried daughter halfway across the world, exposing her to dangers unknown.
Althea and her family were expected in two days. Mama had wanted to see her daughter and grandchildren before sailing to Australia. Especially since she and Papa would be gone for three years; time enough for the gossip to settle.
Craning her neck, Theadosia searched the ballroom for Victor once more. Silly to miss him so much. Only a few minutes had passed.
“Thea, I think it was terribly rude of the Duke of Bainbridge to commandeer Sutcliffe the way he did. Surely he knows a groom’s place is at his bride’s side on their wedding day.” Jessica slipped her hand into the crook of Thea’s arm. Wide-eyed and excited, she too scrutinized the ballroom, no doubt hopeful her dance card would be filled before evening’s end.
“Don’t fret, Jessica. It’s just the way of men. They only think of themselves. He meant no offense. They never do.” A tinge of bitterness crept into Nicolette’s voice.
Her betrothed had tossed her over for an heiress two seasons ago. Ever since, she’d become a consummate flirt, gaining a reputation for crushing any man foolish enough to try to pay his addresses.
Nicolette brushed her gloved hands down the front of her embroidered white satin gown. The royal blue velvet half coat perfectly matched her eyes, which sparkled with mischief at the moment. “I don’t recall ever being in the company of so many seductive scoundrel’s, do you, Gabriella and Ophelia? What great fun we’ll have this week.”
Wearing identical gowns, except for the color, the twins shook their heads.
“No, not to mention so many devilish dukes,” Ophelia said, a skeptical brow arched.
Mirroring her twin’s action, Gabriella lifted a matching eloquent eyebrow. “Sutcliffe certainly travels in exclusive circles, Thea.”
Like Theadosia, the twins had never left Colchester. They lived with their aged grandparents and rarely attended anything more exciting than a tea or church. To liven things up, they were known to switch identities every now and again. Few people, except their family and dearest friends, could tell them apart.
“Ah, there you all are at last. I almost despaired of finding you in this infernal crush. I suppose that means the ball is a smashing success.” Everleigh Chatterton glided toward them, her silvery gown, trimmed in black satin, accenting her white blonde hair. She’d been widowed almost two years ago but still wore half-mourning colors right down to her jet and diamond locket and earrings, as well as her ebony silk gloves.
Theadosia suspected Everleigh’s extended mourning period had far more to do with discouraging the attention of besotted men attracted to the stunning beauty like bees to blossoms, rather than any lingering grief she felt for the loss of her much, much older and despised husband.
Jemmah, the Duchess of Dandridge and Rayne Wellbrook, Everleigh’s step-niece, accompanied her. They smiled in greeting whilst vigorously waving their fans.
“Lord, but it’s stifling,” the Duchess of Dandridge said. Hers had been a fairy-tale match too.
Thea glanced from friend to friend, and finally to Jessica. If only they might have their happily-ever-afters as well someday.
She would pray they did.
The Duchess of Dandridge had the right of it, nonetheless. The ballroom had grown beastly hot in a short period. If only Thea might slip outdoors for a breath of fresh air, perhaps even run her hands through the fountain bubbling in the garden.
“Is that tall, dark man still behind me?” Everleigh murmured as she also flicked her horn brisé fan open. Behind her silver mask, her jade green eyes sparked with annoyance.
An exotic looking gentleman followed her, accompanied by the Dowager Duchess of Sutcliffe and the banker Jerome DuBoise, her nearly constant companion since his arrival four days ago.
“Yes.” Theadosia nodded, searching for an excuse to whisk her friend away. “Why don’t we get some ratafia? I’m quite parched.”
“Theadosia my dear, where’s Sutcliffe off too? I thought for certain he’d stick to your side the entire evening.” The dowager duchess fairly glowed under Mr. DuBois’s obvious admiration.
“A few of his friends wanted to wish him happy.” Thea returned her smile. Her mother-in-law already treated her like a beloved daughter. “I think it was really an excuse to indulge in a tot.”
The dowager chuckled while gesturing to the tall man. “Do let me introduce Griffin, Duke of Sheffield. He’s nephew to Mr. DuBois and quite the world traveler.”
She efficiently finished the introductions, and after the women curtsied, Everleigh half-turned away, just short of snubbing the duke. Her marriage truly had been an awful affair and had left hidden wounds she refused to speak about. Even though she was only three and twenty, she’d sworn off men and marriage.
“Another duke?” Ophelia whispered soto voce to her twin. “How many does that make? Five or six?”
The Duke of Sheffield flashed a dazzling smile, his teeth white against his tanned face.
“Actually, there are ten of us. Myself, Dandridge, Sutcliffe, Pennington, Bainbridge, Westfall, Kincade, Asherford, San Sebastian, and Heatherston. The last three aren’t here, however, and Kincade and Heatherston are Scots. We met at Bon Chance several years ago, and have been the greatest of friends since.”
Bon Chance?
Wasn’t that the scandalous gaming hell run by Madam Fordyce?
“Oh my, ten you say?” Ophelia appeared suitably awed, while her unimpressed twin hunched a shoulder.
“They’re just men, Ophelia,” Gabriella said.
“I imagine you’ve a great many interesting stories you could tell.” Nicolette batted her eyelashes. She appeared such a coquette, but any man foolish enough to take the bait soon found himself verbally skewered.
“There’s Sutcliffe now.” A proud smile illuming her face, the dowager pointed her closed fan.
Theadosia’s gaze tangled with Victor’s across the room, deliciously irresistible in his formal togs, as he strode toward her. Several other gentlemen, including the other dukes, each with varying degrees of disinterest or boredom etched on their aristocratic features, also ambled tow
ard the cluster of women.
She wasn’t the least surprised the male guests flocked to her exquisite friends. They were in for a surprise though, for none of the women gave a rat’s wiry tail about impressing peers, social position, or how many titles a man held. A rarity to be sure, but that was one of the reasons the women were such close friends.
After bowing, Victor pulled Theadosia to his side. “I beg your indulgence, but I’m abducting my bride for a waltz on the terrace. You ladies should also dance.”
He sent a swift, stern look to the other males standing there. “Gentlemen, behave.”
He didn’t even wait for a response, but whisked Theadosia out a side door. No sooner had they left the ballroom’s noise and heat than he swept her into a secluded corner and into his arms, crushing her to his chest and kissing her like a man long-starved.
She opened her mouth, welcoming him in. Her hunger grew, desire sluicing through every pore. Pulling her mouth free, she panted against his neck.
“Darling, do we dare forego the rest of the ball?”
The temperature inside the ballroom was nothing compared to the scorching need blazing within her.
“I’m a duke. I would dare anything for you, Duchess.” Victor released a raspy chuckle. “Come. There’s a back entrance.”
Like naughty children, they clasped hands and ran to the other side of Ridgewood. Less than ten minutes later, after a few stops to indulge in blood sizzling kissing, Victor opened her bedchamber door.
Theadosia gasped, slowly spinning in a circle.
Dozens of candles lit the chamber, the glow casting romantic shadows to the farthest corners. A cheery fire burned in the hearth, and on the table near the window, a bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket between plates of sweetmeats and dainties. But it was the bed that commanded her attention. The bedding had been pulled to the foot, and coral and peach rose petals covered the ivory satin sheets.
“Oh, Victor. Did you arrange this? It’s so romantic.”
She lifted up on her toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his firm mouth.
“I did.” He pivoted her to unlace her gown. “And I told your maid she wouldn’t be needed.”
He made short work of divesting Theadosia of her clothing, but when he reached to pull her chemise over her head, she crossed her arms and backed away.
“No, you undress now. I want to see you.”
A lazy grin curled his mouth.
“Your every wish is my command.”
She watched him in the looking glass as she removed the tiara and earrings, and was about to unclasp the necklace when he closed his hand over hers.
“Leave it on. I want you wearing it when I make love to you.”
He lifted her hair, pressing hot kisses to her neck, and a low moan escaped her.
Meeting his searing gaze in the mirror, Theadosia swallowed.
Wearing only his trousers, he radiated masculine beauty. Hair black as midnight covered his sculpted chest, the fine mat disappearing into the vee at his waist.
This glorious man was her husband.
She turned, offering him a siren’s smile. Gazes still locked, she untied the ribbons at her shoulders, allowing her chemise to settle at her feet.
Victor froze for an instant before he scooped her into his arms and strode to the bed. Reverently, as if she were as fragile as the petals he lay her on, he lowered her to the mattress.
He shucked his trousers and slid onto the bed. “Let me take you to paradise, darling.”
“Oh yes, Victor.” She eagerly curled into his side, and sometime later when the heavens burst behind her eyelids and her body quaked with bliss, she cried, “I love you.”
“And I love you, Thea,” he groaned, finding his own release.
When their breathing had returned to normal, Victor raised Theadosia’s hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.
“For as long as I have breath in my body, Theadosia, I shall love you. You are branded on my spirit. My soul is finally whole.”
“As is mine.” She traced a finger along his jaw. “I suppose we have Leadford to thank.”
Victor skewed a brow in astonishment. “And precisely how do you figure that devil is in any way worthy of our thanks?”
“Because, husband dearest, he forced your hand.” She nuzzled his chest, then giggled when he tickled her ribs.
“Vixen.”
“Enough talk.” She climbed atop him, relishing the sensation of his firm, sinewy body beneath hers. “Take me to heaven again.”
Before you go, if you enjoyed ONLY A DUKE WOULD DARE please consider leaving a review on B&N.
USA Today Bestselling, award-winning author, COLLETTE CAMERON pens Scottish and Regency historicals, featuring rogues, rapscallions, rakes, and the intelligent, intrepid damsels who reform them.
Blessed with fantastic fans as well as a compulsive, over-active, and witty Muse who won’t stop whispering new romantic romps in her ear, she lives in Oregon with her mini-dachshunds, though she dreams of living in Scotland part-time.
You’ll always find dogs, birds, occasionally naughty humor, and a dash of inspiration in her sweet-to-spicy timeless romances®.
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Dearest Reader,
I’m so grateful you chose to read ONLY A DUKE WOULD DARE. I know you have many wonderful choices of historical romances to read, and I am honored you read the second book in my Seductive Scoundrel’s Series.
Victor was introduced in A DIAMOND FOR A DUKE, and he was such a fun character, I couldn’t wait to write his story. I wanted him to be flawed but redeemable; a hero who didn’t really know what he wanted. Until he met Theadosia again, that is. She’s all that I adore in a heroine: strong and intelligent, yet also a kind, considerate person.
Victor makes a cameo appearance in EARL OF WAINTHORPE, and you’ll see more of Thea and her duke in the rest of the series as well.
The next book in the series is A DECEMBER WITH A DUKE. Everleigh Chatterton is the heroine. I bet you can guess who the hero is!
Please consider telling other readers why you enjoyed this book by reviewing it on B&N. Not only do I truly want to hear your thoughts, reviews are crucial for an author to succeed. Even if you only leave a line or two, I’d very much appreciate it.
So, with that I’ll leave you.
Here’s wishing you many happy hours of reading, more happily-ever-afters than you can possibly enjoy in a lifetime, and abundant blessings to you and your loved-ones.
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A DIAMOND FOR A DUKE
Seductive Scoundrels Book One
A dour duke and a wistful wallflower—an impossible match until fate intervenes one enchanted night.
Caution: This Historical Regency Romance contains a duke who literally thumbs his nose at society, a sweet and intelligent wallflower with a secret dream, a villainess worthy of a fairy tale, and two delightful match-making dowagers.
A dour duke.
Jules, the Sixth Duke of Dandridge, disdains Society and all its trappings, preferring the country’s solitude and peace. Already jaded and cynical since the woman he loved died years ago, he’s becom
e even more so since unexpectedly inheriting a dukedom’s responsibilities and finding himself the target of every husband-hunting vixen in London.
A wistful wallflower.
Forever in her stunning sister’s shadow, Jemmah Dament has adored Jules from afar for years—since as children they were the best of friends. She daren’t dream she can win a duke’s heart any more than she hopes to escape the life of servitude imposed on her by an uncaring mother. Jemmah knows full well Jules is too far above her station. Besides, his family has already selected his perfect duchess: a poised, polished, exquisite blueblood.
But one enchanted night.
A chance encounter reunites Jules and Jemmah, resulting in a passionate interlude neither can forget. Jules realizes he wants more—much more—than Jemmah’s sweet kisses or her warming his bed. He must somehow convince her to gamble on a dour duke. But can Jemmah trust a rogue promised to another? One who’s sworn never to love again?
Enjoy the first chapter of A DIAMOND FOR A DUKE
April 1809
London, England
A pox on duty.
A plague on the pesky dukedom too.
Not the tiniest speck of remorse troubled Jules, Duke of Dandridge, as he bolted from the crush of his godmother, Theodora, Viscountess Lockhart’s fiftieth birthday ball—without bidding the dear lady a proper farewell, at that.
She’d forgive his discourtesy; his early departure too.
Unlike his mother, his uncles, and the majority of le beau monde, Theo understood him.
To honor her, he’d put in a rare social appearance and even stood up for the obligatory dances expected of someone of his station. Through sheer doggedness, he’d also forced his mouth to curve upward—good God, his face ached from the effort—and suffered the toady posturing of husband-stalking mamas and their bevy of pretty, wide-eyed offspring eager to snare an unattached duke.
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