Duke of Sin

by Adele Ashworth

  He smiled in satisfaction, adding, “Would it then be fair to say that a true child of the universe learns how it is to be Godlike from actually partaking in sin and being fortunate enough to observe it in others? We are only redeemed when we recognize sin in ourselves and beg forgiveness. I would submit to you, then, that sin is a natural product of the universe, created by our Lord, intended to teach.”

  That shut every one of them up, including Vivian, who now looked at him in astonishment as the others did. He almost laughed.

  Vivian was the first to recover herself. With the straightening of her spine and the clasping of her closed fan with both hands in front of her, she gazed up at him, thoughtfully looking into his eyes as she daintily shook her head.

  “My lord duke, I had no idea you were a philosopher.”

  The other ladies simply gaped at her.

  He tipped his head once to her. “I have little else to do but read, Mrs. Rael-Lamont.”,

  “You’d do well to be reading the Good Book, your grace,” Mrs. Boseley admonished.

  His brows lifted. “And who’s to say I’m not, madam?”

  The whole lot of them seemed to twitch in their stays from that comment.

  He glanced down to Vivian again. A slow grin widened across her mouth.

  “Indeed, sir,” she said pleasantly. “Would you care to walk me to my doorstep, your grace? I only live around the corner and I would enjoy hearing some of your philosophic interpretations of our holy book.”

  She asked him politely and yet dared him with her eyes. He couldn’t begin to assume What she felt at that moment and decided not to try.

  “I’d be delighted, Mrs. Rael-Lamont.”

  “Good.” Turning back to the women of her acquaintance, she nodded once to them. “I shall see you all on Tuesday for tea at Mrs. Safford’s cottage.”

  One by one, they curtsied to him, without response, likely due to the fact that they’d been made speechless. For him, after all these years of solitude, it was a priceless moment.

  “Good day, ladies,” he remarked. Then he offered his arm to Vivian once more, and she took it without reservation. Together they began to stride down the street, turning more than one head with the very odd look of a local widow who makes a living selling flowers clinging to the forearm of the Duke of Trent. For Will, it felt marvelous, a feeling of freedom he hadn’t experienced in years.

  They strolled silently at a relaxing pace until they rounded the corner onto Pillar Street. At that point, when they were at last out of range of prying eyes, Vivian sped up a bit, releasing her grasp of him as she more or less hurried to her house.

  Will grew mildly perplexed at her change in demeanor until he crossed the threshold of her porch that intentionally hid the front door with clinging vines and pots of sweet-scented flowers.

  Suddenly she whirled around to face him, her eyes flashing an anger he had never seen in her.

  That stopped him abruptly. “I suppose you’re mad at me.”

  Her lips drew back into a thin line as her lids narrowed. “Of course I’m mad at you!” she seethed in whisper. “When I suggested attending church as a way to redeem your character and good name, I didn’t mean for you to purposely seek me out this Sunday.” She closed her eyes and placed her palm on her forehead in an attempt to calm herself. “Do you have any idea how your attention to me this morning could very well cost me my social status in Penzance? I rely on that, sir, for my well-being. God, how all of that must have looked.”

  That statement struck him hard at gut level. His mind went numb as his blood turned cold. When he said nothing in response, she opened her eyes again, noticing immediately how her words had affected him. Her mouth opened slightly and her shoulders sagged. “Your grace…” Her voice trailed off and she simply looked at him, confusion on her brow melding with a hint of sorrow and regret.

  “You have no idea why I sought you this morning,” he stated, not expecting an answer.

  She just continued to look at him, dumbfounded.

  His jaw tensed as he clasped his hands behind him. “And all this time I was hoping to kiss you. I think I shall find my driver instead. Good day, Mrs. Rael-Lamont.”

  He turned on his heel and left her.

  Chapter 10

  She’d had enough of being used. Vivian sat lazily on the settee, hands folded in her lap, staring at the ceiling in her parlor as she took note of the wallpaper: fat little cherubs, golden scrolls, intertwining vines and pink roses. It was perhaps a bit flowery, some might say meretricious, but this was her room, her house, her life to choose the style in which to live it. She had demonstrated that numerous times, to friends and those who loved her. But in the course of three weeks her very secure world had been turned upside down—first by a devious actor, of all people, and then by him.

  Vivian closed her eyes and shivered as she remembered with clarity the feel of his large hands on her back, his lips on hers, his gravelly sigh as he pulled her tightly into his arms. He was a man who wanted her, probably needed her for more than her sexuality, and yet there was so much else involved, so many hidden issues to be resolved. So many secrets.

  “Mrs. Rael-Lamont, this just came for you.”

  Vivian opened her eyes and stood quickly, acknowledging her housekeeper who had entered the parlor to hand her a note.

  “Thank you, Harriet,” she said, taking the plain white paper from the woman’s outstretched fingers.

  Harriet nodded-once, then turned and left the parlor.

  There was no indication of its sender from the purple sealing wax on the back, so Vivian used her finger to pull it apart. Instantly, she felt herself go numb.

  I am leaving Saturday for Thuro. You have six days. GM

  Gilbert Montague… A man who would destroy her life as surely as if he wielded a knife and cut her heart out with the skill of a hunter.

  And with that vivid thought, the most amazing thing happened. Along with sharp feelings of betrayal, helplessness, and rage, she also unexpectedly felt a burst of renewed energy course through her, threatening to bubble over, forcing a dose of absurd laughter to escape her. Seconds later her eyes began to water from her now uncontrollable fit of giggles, and she covered her mouth with her palm should Harriet think she’d gone mad.

  But it was all too suddenly, intensely funny for her sensibilities. How, dear God, had her ordinary, simple life become so twisted? How did she come to al-low two totally different men to control her destiny? Why was she at their mercy? She had never been one to shrink from difficulties, but to face them with dignity. At that moment she came to the realization that it wasn’t these two powerful men, so diametrically opposite each other, who’d caused the problems she now faced, but rather her reaction of cowardice in allowing them to use her. Finally, it was all too apparent what she had to do.

  With her palms together in prayer position in front of her face, the simple note resting between them, Vivian kept her eyes closed for several long moments, forcing herself to calm. Then with deep resolve, she crumpled the note in her fist and tossed it into the wastebasket beside her writing desk as she walked to the parlor door.

  Enough self-pity. It was time for her to act.

  Will sat at his writing desk, attempting to concentrate on the correspondence before him. Try as he might, there was just no comparison between the settling of estate taxes and the vivid memory of Vivian’s luscious lips, the color of wet rubies. God, how incredible they would feel wrapped around his—

  “Your grace, Mrs. Rael-Lamont is here to see you.”

  Wilson’s interruption startled him and he jerked upright at his desk. “Show her in.”

  “Immediately, sir.”

  Will raked the fingers of both hands through his hair, closing his eyes and wishing, wishing for his erection to subside, at least for now. He had so much to discuss with her, he supposed, and she probably wanted to offer an apology for her anger this morning, which was no doubt why she’d come calling on him only hours after h
e’d left her at her doorstep.

  He groaned, then stood to greet her, a certain nervousness seeping in, which, under the circumstances, thoroughly annoyed him.

  He turned to face the door when he heard her approaching footsteps on the marble floor in the hallway, leaning his hip on the side of his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. He wouldn’t begin to determine if that were a defensive measure or not. He did it more or less without thinking.

  Then for the second time that day he stood before the beautiful widow, who now appeared much calmer in his presence. She no longer wore her formal attire but instead had changed into a simple yet presentable gown of peach muslin, cut low in the neckline but hung rather loosely at the bodice. Actually, for the heat of the afternoon, she looked cool and refreshed, striking really, with her ivory skin and shiny upswept hair that simply begged to be wrapped around his fingers.

  Her expression remained unreadable as she walked toward him, her gaze holding his almost defiantly. Will could very well expect that she was still angry, though at this point he suspected he was madder. Why she was here after the argument they’d had, he couldn’t begin to guess. He decided then to let her control the meeting, for now.

  “That will be all, Wilson,” he ordered, even as his butler retreated, shutting the double doors behind him.

  They stared at each other for several long seconds, their standoff disquieting.

  “Your grace,” she said stiffly.

  “I’m surprised to see you again so soon, madam.”

  Her brows arched minutely. “Are you.”

  It was a statement rather than a question. “Indeed. You must be overheated from the walk.”

  She pressed her lips together. “That’s irrelevant, really.”

  “Is it?”

  What a remarkably stupid conversation. “Why are you here, Vivian?” he asked quietly, his body tense.

  She drew a deep breath, though she never looked away. “I’m wondering when I might receive the manuscript,” she admitted forthrightly.

  Her directness was enough to give him pause. And her change of approach honestly puzzled him. “When I’m ready to give it to you, I suppose,” he replied.

  She lifted her chin a fraction. “You’d said you wanted companionship in exchange for it, and I’m beginning to wonder why you haven’t taken it.”

  Will began to feel his heart beating in his temples, an incessant pounding that increased by the second. He remained composed, his body calm on the outside, though, lest she realize what thoughts of taking her were doing to him. Even now, as standoffish as she was. “I thought that’s what I’d been doing all this time,” he maintained bluntly, “enjoying your companionship, that is.”

  That confused her for a moment as she studied him, her forehead creased ever so gently. Then, hugging herself tightly, she bravely acknowledged, “But you have yet to take me.”

  He breathed so steadily, so slowly, he knew she had to be wondering if her words affected him at all. She merely had to glance down to notice how very much he desired her. And almost intuitively he decided she kept her eyes focused on his because she was afraid of what she’d see. Widow or not, she understood the attraction he felt for her, and most amazing of all, she didn’t back away from it. Undaunted, she stood before him with the will of a woman who once knew lovemaking and desired it again. It took everything in him at that moment not to take two steps forward, grab her around the waist, lift her skirts and plunge deeply.

  “It is… what you want, isn’t it?”

  Those quiet words of unsureness shook him from his reverie. God, if she only knew.

  “I thought I’d made that clear, Vivian.”

  Instead of faltering, she straightened her spine and narrowed her eyes. “You’re still angry.”

  He quickly caught himself from very nearly gaping at her. “I don’t even understand that.”

  “Naturally.” She finally glanced away, taking one palm and patting the uplifted hair at her neck. Clearly exasperated, she added, “I will never understand men, either.”

  Now he was amused. Unfurling his arms, he placed his palms flat on his desktop behind him and stretched out his legs, crossing one over the other.

  “I’m not sure what I’ve done that’s so terribly difficult to understand,” he countered. “Perhaps you can explain it to me.”

  “Explain it to you?” She lifted both arms heavenward and turned her back on him. “I’m the one who’s suddenly baffled.”

  He was getting to the point where he couldn’t even begin to remember what they were talking about.

  “Vivian—”

  “What are you waiting for, Will?” She moved farther away from him, toward the settee. “I need the manuscript; you need me.”

  The trees rustled from a sudden gust through the windows; a foghorn sounded off the distant shore. Neither of them noticed the intrusion.

  “Tell me what you need my prized manuscript for, Vivian,” he insisted very quietly. “And why you need it now. Today. That is why you’re here, isn’t it? Not because you’re so anxious for me to bed you.”

  She didn’t respond to his bold statement because they both knew she didn’t need to. She turned her profile to him and brought both of her hands up to her face, clasping them together at her mouth. Just from that gesture alone, Will could easily detect her frustration and annoyance.

  After a moment of silent tension, she eyed him sideways, watching him with a frown upon her brow. “I need the manuscript. I offered to buy it—”

  “It’s not for sale.”

  “And yet I am?”

  That caustic reply made his blood boil, and he fisted his hands on the desktop. “From the beginning, madam, I asked you to tell me the truth. You’ve denied me the advantage of knowing why you came to me with such a ridiculous proposal in the first place. Now you’re here and you’re desperate. Why?”

  She dropped her hands and faced him fully again, her cheeks turning pink, her lips thinning with her willfulness. “I’m not desperate.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  That made her thoroughly mad again. He could see it in her set jaw, her ramrod stiff posture, the way her lovely hazel eyes flashed at him hotly. Oh yes, he’d hit a nerve. It was suddenly a very real confrontation between them, with revelations lying just below the surface.

  Will stood erect again and slowly began to walk toward her. “You came to me from the beginning, Vivian, with your half-truths and riddles. I’d finally like some answers. I’d finally like to know what scares you so, who scares you so.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I’m not scared.”

  He cocked a brow as he neared her. “Oh? Then why are you so anxious to spend your time with an accused murderer? Obviously something frightens you more than I do.”

  She had no answer for that, though she looked ready to slap him. Seconds later he towered over her, impressed that she stood her ground without tears or claws.

  With trepidation flowing through her soft voice, she fairly whispered, “Has it not occurred to you, sir, that I might want more from you than your treasured manuscript? That this might only be an excuse? That I might simply desire you as a man?”

  For the first time in his adult life, William Raleigh, Duke of Trent, nearly fell to his knees in front of a woman. Astonished, and likely unable to hide it in his expression, he peered down to her beautiful face, her dewy soft skin now moist from a combination of heat and tightly wound anger.

  She smirked, knowing she’d stumped him, which conveyed to him how perfectly proud she was of it.

  And that’s when he finally understood. She was using him—a pure, animalistic man—just as all women used men, appealing to their needs and base desires. Oh, how desperate he must look to her, must have seemed to her when she first appeared on his doorstep only three weeks ago.

  Nostrils flaring, he reached out and firmly grasped her neck with his palm. Startled, her eyes opened wide and she pulled back a little. He held to her tightly, lett
ing her know, in no uncertain terms, that he was in control.

  “You expect me to believe you made up this entire scheme because you desired me physically?” he murmured, his fury bleeding from his words.

  She attempted once more to break free of him, to no avail. “That’s not what I said.”

  “No, it’s what you didn’t say, my darling Vivian. How foolish I must look to you. How arrogant. Just like a gentleman who is not gentle. A man who killed his wife, who is shunned by society, who is not fortunate to have the charms of a lady at his fingertips.” Through clenched teeth, he added, “What a challenge.”

  She began to tremble. He took that as a sign of guilt and mounting anger rather than fear. If there was one thing he knew absolutely, it was that she was not afraid of him.

  “I desire you as a man, your grace,” she spat, her focus quickly shifting to the doorway and back again. “Why can you not believe that?”

  Through a bitterness he felt very deep within him, he replied, “Because of all the things I am, stupid isn’t one of them.”

  She swallowed; her wide eyes shined with brilliance as she locked them with his.

  “Of all the things I have ever said to you, your grace,” she countered, “implying stupidity on your part wasn’t one of them.”

  His cheek twitched even as he rubbed his thumb along her jawline, lowered it to feel the quick pulse in her neck. “If you were so attracted to me as a lover would be, Mrs. Rael-Lamont, why do you continue to avoid using my given name?”

  She raised one hand and clasped his forearm, though she didn’t try to lift it or push it away. She just held on to him as if unsure what her next move should be. In some very odd manner, Will found this battle of wits with her unbelievably arousing.

  “Because,” she said succinctly, lips tight, “I didn’t expect us to be so intimate emotionally.”

  He almost laughed. “After the… exchange of the manuscript?”