The Duke's Defiant Debutante

by Gemma Blackwood

  "Just imagine!" Lily said faintly, as they entered her bedroom. "Being carried to bed by a handsome Duke! See, Angelica, you aren't the only one who has such adventures."

  Edward raised his eyebrow and studiously avoided Angelica's eyes. Angelica led him to Lily's bed, a comfortable four-poster stacked high with cushions and extra blankets, and he set her down gently.

  "I'll send Kitty in directly to help you get ready for bed," said Angelica. Whenever she spoke to her sister there was a tender tremor in her voice that caught at Edward's heart. Had he spoken to Adelaide the same way, in the throes of her final illness?

  "The sun hasn't even gone down yet," Lily protested.

  "Miss Stirling, you will rest," Edward ordered her. "For my sake if not your own. Only imagine the condemnation your parents will heap upon my head if you should fall ill after spending the day in my care."

  To his surprise, Angelica did not stay with her sister, but followed him out into the corridor. Lily was right – the sun had not quite set. Orange light filtered through the windows, lighting Angelica's eyes with a glow that entranced Edward more than he wanted to admit. She positively shone at this time of evening. She brought to mind visions of cosy fireplaces, warm blankets, welcome embraces at the end of a long day.

  He realised that he was picturing her in the best private sitting room at Redhaven Castle. Yes, she would look well there. He would have to give it to her – make it her own private territory. Perhaps, when the time was right and the nights drew in, he would be invited in of an evening to bask in the warmth of her spirit.

  "You have been so kind to Lily," said Angelica. She spoke softly, to avoid their conversation disturbing Lily as she rested behind the bedroom door, but it struck Edward that it was not only that which lowered Angelica's tones. She almost appeared nervous. "Thank you."

  "There is nothing to thank me for." Was it truly so surprising to her that he wasn't the brute society made him out to be? No wonder she had refused him when he proposed.

  He wondered what Angelica's response would have been if he had waited. If he had got to know her better before asking for her hand. Edward was beginning to see that he had managed things very poorly at the start. He could only hope that he didn't come to regret it.

  Angelica had placed her hand on his chest. She stood in front of him with lips slightly parted, looking at him with an expression that was part fright, part gratitude, and partly that incorrigible mischief. "All the same, Edward. I should like you to know that –"

  He kissed her. He could not help himself. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to close the space between them with his lips.

  Angelica froze in shock beneath him, then, slowly, put both of her hands around his neck and kissed him back.

  It had been such a long time since Edward had been this close to a woman. Such a long, cold, lonely time that he could hardly bear to think of it. Angelica was overwhelming his senses. Had kisses always been so soft, so warm, so natural and easy? Had they always stirred him with passion and filled his belly with fire?

  Edward pulled Angelica closer to him and explored her mouth with his, learning the shape of her lips, travelling the space between the corner of her mouth and her earlobe with his kisses, memorising the inward curve of her waist with his hands. She let him lead – for once, she was obedient, submissive, a student in the art of physical love. Edward barely knew what he was doing himself.

  The only certainty that remained was that he had wholly, wholly, lost his mind in Angelica's sparkling eyes.

  "Edward," gasped Angelica, when he finally relinquished her. "Edward, I... I..."

  "Don't tell me you're lost for words, Miss Stirling?"

  Her eyes flashed. "You overestimate your abilities, Your Grace."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  She turned up her pert little nose. "One kiss is not enough to leave me speechless."

  "Let us see what a second will do," he growled, pulling her towards him again.

  A pointed cough interrupted them just as their lips were about to meet. Angelica jumped away as though she had been scalded. "Kitty! How long have you been standing there?"

  "Long enough, Miss," said the servant, looking from Angelica to Edward with a disapproving expression. Edward felt rather piqued. Who was a lady's maid, to tell him when he should and should not kiss his own fiancée?

  Catching his glare, the maid dropped a quick curtsy. "Mrs Stirling sent me to see to Miss Lily. I'm afraid I'll need to ask you to step aside, Your Grace. Her bedroom is just through there."

  "Edward and I were just saying goodnight," said Angelica. "He was just leaving."

  "Hmph!" Kitty was wise enough not to put her response into words. Edward stood aside to let her into Lily's room.

  Angelica was laughing silently into her hand. "Oh! Forgive me! I should go in and see that Lily settles. Thank you for a wonderful day, Edward. And..." She lowered her hand to whisper the rest. "And for my first kiss."

  "Your first...?"

  Her eyes widened. "Could you tell?"

  "Not a bit of it. I... I thought it was wonderful."

  Angelica's lips curled into a smile. Edward found himself following their movements rather too closely. "Now, that's something," she said, almost to herself. "Wonderful. From the fearsome Duke of Redhaven. Wonderful."

  Before he could protest at the term fearsome, she had slipped back into Lily's bedroom, leaving him alone in the corridor.

  Edward found his own way back to the front door, where the butler met him and let him out with some ceremony.

  "Do pass on my regards to Mr Stirling," said Edward. "I will not have time to see him this evening."

  "Certainly, Your Grace. Goodnight, Your Grace."

  "Goodnight, Hinchley." That was neatly done. The last thing Edward wanted to do was converse with Mr Stirling while licentious thoughts of Angelica still swirled in his mind.

  He felt more alive than he had since he could remember. When was the last time his heart beat this quickly, the world seemed this vibrant with possibility? Years. It must have been years.

  "Where to, Your Grace?" asked the driver, as he got back into the carriage. Edward was far too full of energy to go home to his empty house.

  "The Earl of Lathkill's house. He's overdue a visit from me."

  He sank back onto the velvet cushions and let the carriage take him deep into London's encroaching night. The anticipation of Frederick's surprise on actually receiving a visit from him was amusing, to say the least. Little would Frederick guess what had finally managed to raise Edward's sunken spirits!

  He would not breath a word of what had passed between him and Angelica to Lathkill, naturally. That glorious moment was already crystallising in his memory, a perfect and precious thing to be kept safe at the back of his mind and taken out to cheer him in times of future trouble. How sweet she'd been, how naïve yet passionate, how pure...

  Edward caught sight of his own face reflected in the carriage window and startled upright with shock. He was actually smiling. Smiling like a ninny.

  "Be careful, Thorne," he muttered to himself. Since he could not ask Frederick's advice, he would have to be his own confidant. "She doesn't know you. Not yet. She's young, and full of enthusiasm for everything. It won't do to get carried away."

  No, he had to keep his mind focused on his goal. He was marrying Angelica to produce an heir, that was all. Only luck would bring anything more to their marriage – and when had luck ever been in Edward's favour?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Angelica knew her mother despaired to see her writing letters by candlelight – "It's so bad for your eyesight, my dear!" – so, that evening, she settled down to her correspondence at the little desk in her bedroom where her mother would not see.

  Dear Lady Cecily,

  How sorry I am that you have left London! You were the first friend of my first Season, and I will never forget the kindness you showed me and the help you gave me with all my many mistakes. I hope
your mother's health recovers quickly. Is it too much to pray for that she will be well enough to bring you back to London before the Season is over?

  Thank you very kindly for your invitation to Loxwell Park. I will not hesitate to visit as soon as I possibly can. At present, however, I am much occupied in preparing for my marriage. Edward has ordered the banns to be read this coming Sunday, so I have only a few weeks of solitude remaining! He wants us to be married as soon as possible.

  Did you notice that I am now calling him Edward, not His Grace the Duke of Redhaven? Cecily, I know that I shared all my misgivings with you, and you were kind enough to warn me of Edward's reputation – but I have the happiest news for you! Now that Edward is no longer a stranger to me, I am more hopeful than ever that my marriage will prove to be a success.

  Angelica paused and touched the end of her quill pen to her lips, wondering how much she should reveal to her friend. She was not used to keeping secrets, but some things – some things were lovelier when they remained private. She was growing to understand that the most important part of her relationship with Edward would be kept between the two of them, private and intimate.

  She rather liked the idea. If anyone had told her that morning that by nightfall, she would be thinking of Edward with a thrill of delight, she would never have believed them. But it was true.

  Edward is not at all the horror that the ton has declared him to be. Quite the opposite – he is a man of extraordinary kindness. I do believe that, with a little help, he may one day become positively cheerful.

  I have nothing as yet to write to you regarding the rumours which surround him. I must admit that when I am out and about these days, I see people whispering behind their hands rather more often than is comfortable. But we have not yet reached the proper level of intimacy for me to demand an explanation, and I am happy to let matters take their natural course.

  I am sorry to think that you may not be able to attend my wedding, but I will keep you acquainted with all my plans as I make them. I have settled upon wearing roses in my hair, rather than a cap or bonnet. As to the dress I do not know – only that I do not wish to wear silver, as Mrs Green did on her wedding day.

  You simply would not believe the quantity of venison my mother thinks will be necessary for the wedding breakfast! And no fewer than five different varieties of soup. But perhaps you are accustomed to these things; your father is a Duke and you must be used to the requirements of a Duke's household.

  I do not mind admitting that I am full of trepidation at the thought of becoming a Duchess, but I am determined to rise to the occasion. I shall be writing to you at every moment, asking for your wise advice, even though I will be an old married woman!

  Yours ever,

  Angelica Stirling

  She sealed the letter and set it to one side. Poor Cecily! If anyone was cut out to dance till dawn at every ball in London, it was her. Angelica felt her absence very sorely. She could only hope that the Duchess of Loxwell recovered swiftly, so that Cecily could make a triumphant return.

  The next letter gave her a little pause for thought. To Cecily, she could simply speak her mind, but her next correspondent warranted a little more finesse.

  She took up the note from Miss Valentina Drake and read it through again. On the face of it, it was nothing more than a simple invitation to pay her a call.

  Angelica found her fingers automatically toying with the buttons on her gloves and forced herself to stop. Her mother always said it was not a genteel habit, and, besides, it made her look nervous.

  She took up her quill.

  Dear Miss Drake,

  Thank you for your kind invitation. I would be delighted to pay you a visit. I am entirely without obligations next Friday and I will call upon you at whichever time is most convenient.

  Yours sincerely,

  Angelica Stirling

  She blew on the paper to dry the ink out quickly, before she changed her mind. She could not admit to being entirely happy about her new acquaintance with Valentina.

  "Soon you will be signing your letters differently," said a soft voice behind her. Angelica nearly jumped out of her skin.

  "Lily! You ought to be asleep!"

  "I was asleep. Now I am awake again, and we have not had a chance to discuss the day." Lily perched on the edge of Angelica's writing desk. "Who are you writing to?"

  "Miss Valentina Drake."

  "Her?" Lily wrinkled her nose. "You are pursuing the acquaintance, then?"

  Angelica ignored Lily's misgivings and tucked the letter into an envelope. "Miss Drake's aims align with mine. If we can become friends, it will benefit both our husbands."

  "I thought you did not wish to force a friendship on Edward against his wishes?"

  "I will not force him to do anything. I will simply nudge. Encourage. Guide." Angelica sealed the letter and set it down with a flourish. "I truly believe that Miss Drake is right. A divided family is an unhappy one. Edward has suffered a lonely life for too long. If I can do him some good by persuading him to think kindly of his cousin, by all means I will do it."

  She looked up to find Lily watching her with a quizzical smile. "What is Edward's happiness to you, Angelica?"

  Angelica struggled for an answer. Lily, grinning, nudged her with a bare foot.

  "You are falling for him."

  "I am not!"

  "It's true. You like him. Don't be cross, Angelica. I am happy for you."

  "You are?"

  Lily leaned forward and planted a kiss on Angelica's forehead. "A happy marriage. That is the best thing I could wish for you."

  "I cannot say I truly like him," Angelica admitted. "Not yet – not quite. But my feelings are undergoing a material change. When he first proposed, I was horrified. When Papa told me I had no choice but to marry him, I felt resignation. Now... Now I allow myself to be excited. Only a little. But it's there."

  "A fine start," said Lily.

  "Do you think?"

  "Who knows what it may grow to be?"

  Angelica hugged herself, looking at the letter to Valentina. Miss Drake had been so secure in her affection for Mr Thorne. Could Angelica hope to feel the same way herself, some day? "A happy marriage. Only imagine! After all, there must have been some reason for it, Lily. Out of all the girls in London, he proposed to me. Edward is a serious person. He would not have asked for my hand if he did not at least suspect that we would be happy...would he?"

  "I am more certain than ever that he will make you a very fine husband," said Lily. "And, if he does not, you shall at least have an estate with three lakes to distract yourself."

  "Gracious! As if I care about the size of his estates!"

  "The most important thing is whether you care for the Duke."

  Angelica opened her mouth to make a sharp retort, but found it dying on her lips. Instead, she lowered her head, pressed her lips together, remembered the sensation of his hands around her waist, the hidden passion of his kiss. "I believe I do care for him, Lily. I do."

  "Then I am happy," sighed Lily. "And I will go back to bed before you become distressed with me. I should be resting – don't I know it! Goodnight, Angelica."

  "Goodnight, Lily."

  Only once Lily had gone did Angelica realise that she had not mentioned the kiss. She remembered the day of Lily's first kiss, when her sister had come bursting into her room full of excitement and shocking details.

  This was the first secret Angelica had ever kept from her sister, but it felt right. It was between herself and Edward. If all her hopeful dreams of love came true, it would be the first secret of many.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "Here we are," said Frederick, tapping the outside of the famous bay window with his cane. "White's Gentlemen's Club. The only place in London worth being seen in, old chap."

  "I cannot believe you talked me into this," said Edward, through gritted teeth. Frederick laughed.

  "It's supposed to be an enjoyable place to pass the time, Thorne. Not a
torture chamber."

  "For you, perhaps. You're not the man called a murderer by half of London."

  "Let's forget about the past for say half an hour and see if we can't have some fun, eh, Thorne?" Frederick opened the door and entered the club ahead of him. After he had divested himself of coat and hat, he walked into the main room and was greeted by cheers.

  "Lathkill! Good to see you!"

  "I say, chaps, it's the Earl of Lathkill!"

  "Come and have a drink with me, Lathkill!"

  Edward followed him, and every cheerful voice died away. At the far side of the room, there was a clinking sound as a knocked-over bottle spilled its expensive contents to the floor.

  "Who remembers my good old friend the Duke of Redhaven?" asked Frederick, his voice ringing loud in the silence. Nobody answered. Unabashed, Frederick took Edward's arm and led him towards a group of men who all but flinched away. "Come along, Thorne. Let's make some introductions."

  Slowly, the conversation resumed. The room filled with slightly muted chatter. Edward allowed himself to be seated at a table of whist players who now looked extremely nervous.

  "Well, Your Grace," said a red-cheeked fellow who Frederick had introduced as Viscount Hatherford. "How do you find London? Is it much changed since your last visit?"

  "In the most important aspects, I believe, it remains as it always was," said Edward coldly. Frederick shot him a look. Edward settled back with the cards in his hands and wished himself elsewhere.

  London had not changed. He was still the object of suspicion, rumour, and fear wherever he went.

  The only bright spark about this city had been Adelaide, and she now lay cold and lifeless beneath its soil.

  "Too right," said the young man sitting at Hatherford's side. He had a mass of golden curls which gave him a rather cherubic aspect, and he toyed with them constantly. "London's entertainments are always the same dull old thing – who wants to drink warm lemonade at Almack's, for goodness' sake? Give me a hunt on a misty morning and a shotgun in my hand any day! Let London hang!"