A Duke's Decision (The Duke''s Club Book 4)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  “Perhaps, but remember, these men fight with words and connections. They can be much more dangerous. The French can only kill you. These men can ruin you.”

  The Duke scoffed, “What is the worse that could happen? I am stripped of my title and returned to the battlefield? I could only hope for such a fate.”

  The Prime Minister studied him for a long moment, his eyes probing as if searching for a hidden truth. At last, he nodded and patted him on the back. “I wish you luck. And if there is anything I can do to help. A … blockage that needs to be moved. Please let me know.”

  Nodding, the Duke thanked him then left. Now for moving things along, he thought as he stepped out onto the street. He had informed the senior person. Now it was a matter of overturning apple carts and burning bridges to find the rats behind this fiasco.

  .o0o.

  Emily’s heart jumped when His Grace entered the parlor. She held her breath as he walked across the room to pour himself a whiskey. The man looked so handsome. His wide shoulders seemed to take up half the room.

  “Have you eaten, Your Grace?” she asked him. “Should I ask Jarvis to send something from the kitchen?”

  “No need, I stopped at Whites.”

  Emily glanced at the glass in his hand. How much had he had to drink? she wondered. He seemed to be displaying no ill effects.

  “Well, how did it go?” she asked, unable to stop herself. “With the Prime Minister?”

  Lady Denton simply shook her head. It appeared she had given up on curing Emily of her fascination with politics.

  “Well,” the Duke said as he took a long sip. “Better than I expected.”

  “Will the Prime Minister help you in your inquiries?”

  The Duke nodded as he placed his now empty glass on the mantel. “He says he will. But of course, seeing will be believing.”

  Lady Denton huffed as she pushed herself up out of her chair. “If you two insist on talking about politics then I will leave you to it. I refuse to be subjected to such drivel.”

  Emily jumped from her chair. “I will go with you, My Lady.”

  Lady Denton waved her hand in dismissal. “No need, Lizzy will help me.”

  An awkward silence fell over the room as Emily realized this was to be the first time that she and the Duke had been alone together since their kiss. The memory made her cheeks grow warm.

  The Duke studied her for a long moment. Was he remembering their kiss, also?

  God, the tension was becoming unbearable.

  “Please, Your Grace. is the Prime Minister as intelligent as they say? Tell me everything.”

  He laughed, “A man doesn’t rise to that position without intelligence. Too many knives ready to cut him down at the first failure.”

  Emily nodded. Of course, he was right. Oh, how she wished she could have been a fly on the wall in the Prime Minister’s offices so that she could have listened to there meeting.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced her disappointment down and looked up at him as he started to pace. Something was bothering him, she realized. Something other than the meeting with Lord Liverpool. Was it their kiss? Her heart lurched with pure fear. Was he going to finally discuss what happened?

  “I met a friend of yours today,” he said as he glanced at her with a deep frown. “Lord Hawley. He sends his greeting and hopes you will save him a dance when you return from mourning.”

  Emily’s felt her brow furrow with confusion. Why had such a simple thing upset the Duke? She could see it in his body language, the tight shoulders, the frown, the way he stood there almost accusing her of some traitorous error.

  He hesitated a moment as if worried about continuing. “He also mentioned that he might be approaching me in the future to discuss a … joining of our families, I think were his words.”

  The Duke poured himself another drink then turned back to study here. “I feel I should warn you to be careful with the man, he is not all that he appears.”

  Her heart jumped. Was the Duke jealous? No, surely not. He despised the man, that had been obvious from the first night he returned. That must be it, she told herself.

  “Your Grace, you need not fear. If I were ever to fall in love with a man. It would not be with someone like Viscount Hawley.”

  She looked up into his eyes and silently pleaded for him to understand. The only man she would ever love was standing there before her.

  The truth hit her like a great weight from an even greater height. She was in love with the Major. With His Grace, the Duke of Richmond. She had been for years. A love that could never be acknowledged, she realized with a great sadness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emily closed her eyes and soaked in the pleasure of Lizzy brushing out her hair. Having a Lady’s maid did have its benefits, she thought to herself with a secret smile.

  “Are you fitting in well?” she asked the maid.

  Lizzy snorted slightly as she continued to run the brush through Emily’s hair.

  “Everyone is very nice, Miss.”

  Emily watched the maid in the mirror and realized that something was bothering her.

  “But?” she asked.

  Lizzy frowned and stopped brushing to stare off into the distance.

  “That Jones. He can be so frustrating. I swear he was put on this earth to make my life miserable.”

  A quick worry made Emily’s stomach clench. She despised the idea of two people she cared about not getting along.

  “What has he done?” Emily asked.

  The maid shook her head as she returned to running the brush through Emily’s hair. “Little things, Miss. He never smiles. And he thinks he knows everything. Just this morning he was telling me how to remove blood stains from cloth. Trying to tell me to use cold water and not hot. Everyone knows you clean with hot water.”

  Emily bit back a smile.

  “Besides,” the maid continued, “what does a man know about bloodstains.”

  “The man was a soldier,” Emily said feeling a strong need to defend the Duke’s valet. “I imagine he has dealt with a lot of bloodstains.”

  The young maid frowned as she stopped for a moment. “Perhaps, Miss. But the man really does need to learn how to smile.”

  Emily fought to hold off a frown. Corporal Jones smiled all the time. Why couldn’t Lizzy see it? Or was there something else going on? she wondered. It was hard to imagine the Corporal being shy about anything in this world. But had Lizzy unknowingly tamed the man?

  Later, as Emily stared up at the canopy above her bed she thought about the maid and the valet and wondered if there was something there between them. The thought was like a punch to the stomach. They would be able to find happiness together. It might be difficult and trying at times. But they could get there.

  Unlike herself. Turning over, she fought to not cry. Her heart ached with love for a man who would never accept her. A Duke, the Major. God, how had she allowed this to happen?

  Deep down though, she knew that it had always been this way. There was just so much to be impressed by, what woman wouldn’t fall in love. Tall, handsome, a war hero. Kind to his friends with a hint of danger for his enemies. Honorable …”

  Honorable. Was that why he couldn’t see her? His ward, his responsibility. Young. Innocent. Was that why?

  Oh, life was so unfair she thought as she rolled over again. Desperate to find a comfortable position to ease the pain in her heart.

  Grabbing a pillow, she hugged it to her chest and sniffled. Really, she was being silly. He was the Major, of course he would never fall in love with her. How could he? The man was a Duke, a warrior. He had every noble Lady in England wanting him. Why would he ever love a sergeant’s daughter?

  A distant noise made her freeze as she mentally searched for a source. It was late, everyone had been asleep for hours. Unlike herself, they were at peace.

  “Nooooo,” the voice called.

  Emily jumped from her bed, quickly lighting a candle. The Major. Another nightmare
, surely. She had been with him but hours ago and there had been no sign of the malaria.

  “Please, Nooo,” he called again.

  Her heart broke at the sound of misery and pain. Rushing from her room she raced to his door, cupping the candle to keep it lit. This time she didn’t hesitate but immediately knocked and called for him, “Major, Your Grace.”

  “Nooooo,” he moaned. “It’s … gone. His head, it’s gone.”

  “Major,” she called out louder this time desperate to wake him. When he didn’t answer she tried to open the door only to find it locked. Blast the man, she huffed as she once again pounded on the door to wake him. “Wake up Major. It is a dream.”

  Still no response, desperate, she searched the hall for something to break through the door. Anything to pull him from his despair. Her insides felt as if they would shatter if she couldn’t get to him.

  Should she call on Jarvis, or Jones? No, she realized immediately. The Major would be furious if the servants knew of his nightmares. The man couldn’t abide being thought of as weak or in need. She would have to solve this herself. But how?

  The Duchess’ rooms, maybe? The connecting door. Emily held her breath as she rushed to the door to the rooms held in reserve for the future Duchess.

  Unlocked, she discovered as she let out a long breath. Of course, they were. Why would anyone lock a door to an unused bedroom? “Please,” she begged as she hurried to the connecting door.

  “Yes,” she whispered to herself as the doorknob turned. Pulling it open, she lifted the candle to peer into the darkroom. Her heart raced. She was invading his room without his permission. He would hate her for it.

  “Stop,” he yelled.

  Emily froze, terrified she had made a mistake. It was only when she saw the Major thrashing back and forth on his bed that she realized he had not been yelling at her but at the demons in his nightmare.

  “Major,” she whispered as she approached the bed. “Wake up. Everything is all right.”

  He kicked the last bit of sheet from his feet and growled under his breath.

  Emily held her breath. Dressed in only small clothes, the Major continued to thrash as if he were fighting the devil himself.

  Swallowing hard, Emily gently placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Wake up Major, it is a dream. Please wake up.”

  Faster than a striking snake his hand snatched her wrist and pulled her down onto the bed next to him. The room was washed in black as the candle she had been holding fell to the floor to be snuffed out.

  Her heart pounded as she fought to stop from screaming. The man was so strong. The night was so dark. She desperately needed him to wake. A sudden fear filled her as she imagined him thinking she was his enemy. There was no telling what he might do in such a situation.

  “Please Major, Wake up. … Duncan, you must wake up.”

  The man froze, the hand holding her wrist slackened just the slightest. Emily held her breath as she waited for him to return to the land of the real. Desperate to regain control, she sat up and looked down at where she believed him to be.

  Why had she dropped the candle? A frantic need filled her to look at him. To know he was all right.

  “Emily?” he asked with a gravely whisper.

  She let out a long breath. “It was a dream, Major. Everything is all right, Your Grace.”

  Again, there was a long pause before he slowly released her wrist. Emily felt a sense of relief wash over her. He was back, she was no longer in danger.

  “My Emily,” he whispered as his good arm wrapped around her waist and once again pulled her onto the bed. This time though, she could tell he was seeking comfort, not the defeat of an enemy.

  He held onto her as if she were a rock in a raging river, his last hope for salvation. A feeling of love filled her. He needed her. Here, now, he needed her, if only to retain his sanity.

  Her hand covered his hand on her stomach, holding it in place, silently letting him know that she was there for him.

  Slowly his breathing returned to some kind of normal, his body relaxed as he pulled her closer and buried his head next to hers.

  My God, she loved this man so much. More than any woman had ever loved a man, surely. And to be held in his arms like this. His broad chest against her back, his rock-solid arm trapping her to him. It was where she belonged.

  Slowly, unintentionally, a fire began to build deep inside of her. More than a want, a need. A primeval urge that called to her very soul.

  Wiggling backwards she pressed herself against him, rubbing herself against him. An instinctive action that she couldn’t stop from doing.

  He moaned as his arm clamped down even tighter.

  Yes! She thought as she felt him grow hard, pushing at her, silently demanding.

  A raging desire filled her. She wanted him, needed him to fill her. It was as if every part of her being demanded it. Just this once, she thought. She would know what it was like to be a woman.

  Without thinking, as if moving on its own accord, her hand reached down and slowly pulled up her nightgown, exposing herself to him. Thanking the powers that be that it was dark.

  A deep growl rumbled from his throat as he pushed against her. His hardness pressing against her, demanding to be released.

  My God, she wanted this more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. Reaching back, she fumbled at his pants, pushing them down to release him.

  “Emily,” he gasped as she took him in her hand.

  Her insides melted, the man was so big, so hard, like a steel bar encased in velvet. A feminine need made her push back against him, demanding that he take her.

  “Please,” she begged as she pulled at him, positioning him.

  His arm locked around her, he thrust forward.

  Emily gasped with both pain and pleasure as she felt herself spread to take him. A new strange wonderful sensation of being invaded washed through her. The man she loved was making her feel complete.

  “Yes,” she whispered as she basked in the sense of fulfillment. It was as if she had finally achieved life’s meaning.

  Slowly he started to withdraw. Emily whimpered at the sense of pending loss only to have him thrust again.

  “My God,” she moaned as she pushed back to meet him. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire. Every sense at full awareness. The feel of his arm. His warm breath against her neck, the ticking of the clock on the mantle. The aroma of sandalwood mixed with coal smoke. Every part of the world was immediate and alive.

  “Yes, Duncan,” she groaned as he thrust into her again, over and over. Pushing her to new heights, new awareness.

  She thought she would surely faint from the intensity as she fought to catch a breath, all the while demanding more and more until her world exploded into lights and colors as wave after wave of pure pleasure washed through her.

  “God, yes,” she yelled as she felt him push into her with every last effort before his own release inside of her, his arm trapping her. His body and hers joined as one.

  Heaven, she thought as she sighed and relaxed into him. Pure heaven.

  The Major’s arm relaxed finally as he slumped behind her, his rapid breathing fighting to catch enough air.

  Emily smiled to herself. She had done that to him, pushed the Major to this point. Now she thought. Now maybe he could rest peacefully. At least for the night.

  Her mind knew there were now a dozen new problems she must deal with. But for the moment, she would enjoy this sense of rightness.

  .o0o.

  It was the sound of a door slamming downstairs that woke her as a sense of fear and shame filled her.

  The arm, his arm still held her in place, but it had been hours since … she couldn’t even think of what they had done. No, surely not. But her sore body told her otherwise. There was no doubt, her memories were true. Her glorious, wonderful memories.

  A sense of shame filled her. Not at what they had done, but the way she had demanded it from him. My God, wha
t must he think of her? How would she ever be able to be in the same room again?

  A thousand different fears and worries tumbled through her brain, each demanding to be first priority. But her only need was to be away before he woke. To escape so that she didn’t have to see the disappointment in her. Her heart raced as she frantically searched for answers.

  What had she done? How could she have made such a grievous error? The man had been half out of his mind and she had used him. Used his temporary weakness for her own pleasure. What kind of woman did that make her?

  He would despise her, surely.

  The thought forced energy into a foggy mind. She must escape.

  Gently, she slowly lifted his arm then slipped out of the bed, desperate to not wake him. The cold floor reminded her that she was barely dressed. Please she begged over and over, please don’t wake up.

  Once she was away from the bed and beyond his read, she turned to look back at him. The faint light from the morning dawn gave her just enough to see him.

  His forehead was no longer creased. His face was relaxed. As if he were at peace. A sad feeling mixed with pride filled her.

  “Sleep well, my love,” she whispered as she hurried to the adjoining door with the Duchess’ suite. At the door, she turned one last time. The man hadn’t moved a muscle. Her heart broke as she realized she would never know this feeling again. She would never be loved like that again. She new the Major. He would insist on it never happening again. His honor would demand it.

  Sighing, she studied him one last time, memorizing every detail before turning and with a heavy sigh left the man she loved. Left him to a peaceful rest.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emily continued to pace in the parlor. Where was he? A sick feeling of dread washed through her as she thought about seeing him again. What would he think of her? Would he be mad, hateful, or worse, indifferent?

  Turning she retraced her steps as she looked up at the clock in the corner. He had been gone all day. Where was he? And why hadn’t he taken the time to see her before he left? Surely, the man was not that cold or callus. To leave her in this state of uncertainty was almost cruel. Something she would not have expected from the Major.