A Renwick House Christmas Boxed Set

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Unfortunately, he was too foxed to use any of his usual tactics.

  Meaning… he resorted to trickery.

  Not one of his finer moments.

  She didn’t even fight him.

  Which, according to his drunken haze, told him she desired him as much as he desired her, which according to his calculations, also meant she would be receptive to his kiss.

  She wasn’t.

  Instead, she pushed against his chest and kicked until, with a curse, he pulled away.

  “What the devil was that for?”

  “You pompous, arrogant, son of a—”

  His hand covered her mouth before she made a fool of herself by insulting a peer of the realm, one who ranked higher than she, if only by a tiny hair.

  “Cease from speaking, you insulting wench.” Well, he could have said that better. He blamed the whiskey, and those wretched twins. What were their names again? Anthony and Ambrose, something? Why the devil had they kept pouring that whiskey? Terrible idea to begin with. He needed a clear mind, not one muddled with alcohol.

  He shook his head.

  Katherine slapped him, offering her assistance no doubt.

  “Well, that was helpful, my thanks.” He scowled and touched his cheek where he carried a painful mark of her assault.

  “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Katherine’s nostrils flared. He didn’t need to be sober to know she was upset, but he did need to be sober to be able to concentrate on her face rather than the swell of her breasts.

  Damn, but she had nice breasts. He had a brief vision of freeing them from that ridiculous dress, tasting them, exploring them, a pinch here, a lick there.

  “Benedict!” she screamed his Christian name quite loudly. Why the hell had she done that? Had she no care for the foxed?

  “Stop yelling!” he yelled.

  “Why did you kidnap me like that? I’m completely and utterly ruined now! My parents are probably already announcing our engagement, elated that I left with you! Oh, this is so horrible!” She sat back against the cushions and punched the seat with her hand.

  “Yes well, I obviously hadn’t thought that through very well,” he admitted touching a hand yet again to his throbbing face.

  “You don’t say,” she mocked.

  “Now see here.” His head felt much clearer when he was enraged, funny that. “We will marry and that is that.”

  “Hours ago, you wanted to murder me, and now you want to marry me?”

  “Yes, well no, I’m not sure.”

  “I feel so desired, la, I’m going to be a puddle at your feet if you keep speaking to me with such delicate words and phrases.”

  “You don’t want to marry me,” he stated boldly. “You’ve told your parents and my aunt, though you grudgingly admitted to allowing me two weeks to court you.”

  “I thought it a kindness.” She smiled sweetly.

  Minx. “No, you thought to inflict more torture on my person. But not again, I will not be ruined and then jilted out of a proposal.”

  “Pardon?” She leaned forward.

  “You heard me, I was quite ruined tonight.”

  “What?”

  “Ah, so she lacks intelligence as well as hearing?” Benedict grinned at his brilliance. “You ruined me, not the other way around. It was you on top of me, and you who clumsily fell into my carriage; all it would take is one word from me to your family and you’d be stuck with me.”

  Katherine folded her arms across her chest, giving him another lovely view he wouldn’t mind staring at for the remainder of the evening. “Smarter when you’re foxed, hmm?”

  His eyes darted back up to her face. He really needed to stop getting so distracted. “I’m always smarter, and don’t you forget it. The way I see things is you have no choice but to marry me. But never fear. I will allow you to earn the right to choose and court me as you see fit.”

  “Me?” Katherine laughed. “Court you? A man? How much whiskey did you consume?”

  Not near enough, not near enough. Blazes, her smile was beautiful. Why was it so blasted hot in that carriage? He cleared his throat. “I’ll call upon you tomorrow, and you may court me as you see fit.”

  “Or else?” she asked in a tiny voice.

  “Or else I’ll ruin you even more than you’re ruined at this very moment. You won’t be accepted anywhere, and my slip of a cousin will be sorry he ever danced with you.

  A defeated look washed across her features as her eyebrows drew together and her mouth gaped open. “I know what you’re doing.”

  He sure hoped not.

  “You, you!” She pointed at him and pounded the cushion again. Poor, sad, little cushion seat. “You mean to make it look like it’s my fault when the engagement doesn’t work! You mean to salvage your pride, you hateful man!”

  He sneered. “But of course. It works for the both of us. Your parents see that you truly tried to make it work, you put forth such a gallant effort. And in the end, when it still isn’t enough to win over the most infamous duke of the ton, they’ll nurse your broken heart, and you will be free to do whatever you like.”

  “But—” She chewed her lower lip. What he wouldn’t give to be that lip.

  Plump.

  Red, with just a hint of pink in the middle.

  Wet.

  Hell, her lips looked wet didn’t they? One tiny taste would satisfy any sort of curiosity, now wouldn’t it?

  Water, he needed some sort of water to get rid of his foxed state. He was starting to feel… sentimental.

  “But I’ll still be ruined, won’t I?”

  “Of course.” He grinned. What did he care if she was ruined? He’d already planned on ruining her, ravishing her, and then leaving. That was to be her punishment for all the torture she’d put him through, and she was more than deserving. He would enjoy every single second.

  She took a deep breath and cursed — quite impressively for a young lady — ending with, “You’re the devil.”

  “So I’ve been told, love. So I’ve been told.” He picked up her hand, though she tried to keep it at her side, and bestowed a kiss across her knuckles. “And always at your service should you need to make another deal with the devil.” With a wink, he pulled back, chuckling.

  Chapter Seven

  The devil is in the details

  Katherine narrowed her eyes at the man. Surely he was the devil himself! The injustice of it all. By all appearances it would look — well, it would look like she was besotted with the man, and then when it would be time for them to announce their betrothal, there would be no betrothal to announce. Her parents would be livid, she would still be utterly ruined, and Benedict would get away scot free, Devil Duke reputation intact, and if anything, even more famous throughout the ton!

  But worse of all, her heart dropped as her mind played the truth over and over again in her head. The Duke of Paisley would be out of reach, for even if he wasn’t already betrothed to Lady Anastasia, what would he possibly want with a ruined girl?

  So, it was in that moment, when she looked at the choices laid out before her, that she became selfish and impulsive. If no one was to have her, if love would never be her destiny, perhaps she could make the duke's life a living, waking, hellish nightmare. For it was his fault that this was all coming to pass.

  “Why are you smiling?” he asked, grinning and leaning forward to receive a kiss, no doubt.

  “Oh, because.” She gave him her most coy look and blinked her eyes, resting them finally on his lips as her eyelashes fluttered. She looked back up, into his piercing gaze.

  Eyes dilated, his gaze was ravenous, dark, sensual. She gulped and leaned forward. His lips met hers in a frenzy. She reciprocated, allowing herself one moment of weakness before biting his bottom lip, hoping she would draw blood.

  “Damn it! What the bloody hell was that for?”

  “Ruining my happiness, that’s what,” she spat. “It seems we have two weeks to become acquainted. Get your beauty rest, for
you’ll need it.”

  He cursed again as the carriage came to a halt in front of her house. “Oh, and Banbury?” She stepped out of the carriage and turned. “Consider yourself warned. I never back down without a fight.”

  “Been nearly killed four times to prove that very true statement,” he muttered begrudgingly.

  “Exactly. Good day, your grace.” She winked and walked into the house.

  Not typically one to throw any sort of tantrum, Katherine stomped up the stairs and quietly closed her bedroom door, all the while forcing her mind to forget the feel of the devil’s lips as they’d caressed her own.

  Why was he nicknamed the Devil Duke anyway? Granted, he leaned toward rakish tendencies and did have a slight obsession with horse racing, but didn’t all fashionable young gentleman?

  The way things looked tonight, the men of London were drinking whiskey as if it was going out of style and slapping one another on the back as if being a man was such a brilliant privilege that they needed to keep congratulating one another on their sex.

  Katherine knew she needed to get her rest, for tomorrow would be the most trying day of all. At dawn, she had to begin courting the devil himself, and every able-minded person in London would sit back and watch the entertainments, for she would be the first woman to ever gain a proposal from the duke.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Benedict lifted his pounding head, rising slowly from the warmth of his bed. The knocks began anew.

  He cursed.

  “I know you’re in there!” the voice boomed.

  His stomach rolled and clenched as a giant unseen hand seemed to squeeze his chest like a vise.

  Agatha.

  Well, now it was final. She was singlehandedly trying to kill him. Had she no respect for the inebriated and half dead? He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes just as the door burst open. Agatha entered with Percy, his irritated valet, in tow.

  “How could you?” she screamed again affirming his earlier assumption that she was planning his demise.

  “How could I, what?”

  “Be such a man!”

  He wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or horrified that his aunt had accused him of such. He looked down to make sure at least half of his body was covered and sighed in relief that it was.

  “Did you want me to be a woman?”

  Percy coughed.

  Agatha narrowed her gaze. “Your very presence irritates me.”

  Benedict sighed. “So it seems. I take it this is the reason for your intrusion? My offensive sex and irritating presence. Pray, if I offend you so, why don’t you simply leave?”

  She snorted and stomped her heel onto Percy’s foot.

  Eyes wide, Percy clenched his teeth and slowly lifted his eyes heavenward.

  God does not hear our pleas my friend, believe me, I’ve tried, Benedict thought.

  “You are not listening to me!” Agatha yelled.

  Any louder and his head might explode. Then again, if he died, he wouldn’t have to listen to Agatha screeching anymore.

  “Apologies, you were saying something about irritation and my offending sex?”

  “You’ve made a horrible mess of everything! Do you even know what people are saying? It’s all over the gossip rags. Oh, my heavens. You’ve done some terrible things, Benedict, but this is truly worthy of a prize!” She thrust a paper in his face and lifted a handkerchief to her eyes.

  Benedict took the paper and scowled.

  It was Mrs. Peabody’s blasted gossip rag. Everyone read it. He would be lying if he said this was his first offense, the chit clearly had it out for him. With an exaggerated sigh, he read the words:

  This should come as no shock to the rest of you. This author, however, was utterly appalled. To think! The Devil Duke ruining an innocent, and at the holiday’s first ball! Shamefully, I was beginning to think rumors of this dark duke’s demeanor were merely exaggerated. Now I believe we can all see firsthand what type of man he is.

  For a man who not only ruins a woman in front of his own flesh and blood, but has the audacity to capture her and enclose her within the confines of his carriage sans chaperone, can only be one thing. A devil in disguise. This author only hopes that the matriarch of that particular family will do something before the devil does more damage. La, I have it on good authority that it would take the fires of hell licking at his heels before the duke would say yes to an engagement. In case you were keeping track, dear readers, this brings a grand total of ten ruined debutantes over the course of three years. This author shudders to think of the disgrace heaped on both families. Well, it is positively not done! If he is given more invitations for the holidays, this author may eat her quill!

  —Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers

  Benedict laughed, amused that the lady would accuse him so hotly of something that was truly not even his fault.

  She had accosted him.

  She had fallen on him.

  She had leaned in and kissed him.

  Fine, so the last part was slightly exaggerated, but still, she was just as guilty. No woman should have such soft lips.

  “What will you do?” Agatha asked, arms crossed.

  By the look in her eyes he knew he had one of two choices. Laugh it off and kick her out of his home with a hearty farewell or make her privy to his true intentions. After all, he did have some pride to salvage. To think, a woman denying him… and a spinster no less!

  “I’m so pleased you’ve asked, and to think I was just readying myself to come over to your house and tell you of my plans.”

  Agatha rolled her eyes. “Which is why you were still sleeping when I knocked on the door.”

  “I was merely meditating on the sweet words I would utter to my beloved.”

  It was Percy’s turn to snort, and Agatha coughed behind her hand.

  “Besides,” Benedict added with a stretch, “to say what happened against my door was a knock would be a terrible injustice. It was more of a bang, or something akin to a cannon exploding in my bedchamber. Now, if you will be so kind as to excuse me, I have a call to make.”

  With determination, he offered a smile.

  He wasn’t sure if it was the smile or the speech, but his aunt promptly fainted.

  Three hours later, after an ungodly amount of smelling salts, tea, and instances when he saw his aunt's ankles, she was packed into a carriage and sent home.

  “Do you think she was feigning illness?” Baldwyn said beside him. Apparently Benedict hadn’t been the only one to be roused from his sleep in the early morning. In fact, Baldwyn had smartly chosen to break his fast at Benedict’s home while Agatha stormed into Benedict’s rooms to scold him.

  Baldwyn had it easy, however. He simply needed to speak to the girl’s father and all would be done.

  Benedict had to fight.

  But he was used to winning.

  And how difficult could it be to win a spinster’s heart?

  Chapter Eight

  Try Again

  Katherine pleaded with her parents to allow her to return to the country. Instead, it seemed the more she begged, the more resolute they were in their decision.

  Distressed, she had taken to her rooms.

  A knock sounded at her door.

  Please let it be a thief coming to steal her away or perhaps knock her senseless? And then she could wake up confused as to how she had become ruined the night before.

  She wanted to forget any of it had happened.

  It was too mortifying.

  Too horrible.

  Everything, except the stolen kisses.

  But they didn’t count. Everyone knew kisses only counted when they were given in earnest, and if Benedict was earnestly kissing her, well, the whole idea would be ludicrous.

  He was merely competitive and a seducer of innocents and truly the worst sort of man. Well, he had been successful in ruining her, and now the only course of action was to go about a betrothal and wait for him to inevitably end things. The
n she could go back to the country and die alone.

  Splendid.

  Not exactly how she had imagined her life would turn out.

  Another knock came, this one a bit more insistent.

  “Enter,” she said, thoroughly disgusted with herself for entertaining dreams of the rogue's kisses.

  “He’s here,” said her maid Nancy in a tiny voice.

  Katherine picked a feather off of her pillow and huffed. “Who?”

  “You told me not to utter his name,” whispered Nancy.

  Shivering, Katherine sat up. “You mean he’s here?”

  “The very one.”

  “Well, who let him in?” she all but screamed.

  “Your mother. Seems she was overwrought after the scandal sheets were delivered. Allow me to speak frankly?”

  “Always.”

  “It is worse than you thought upon your return last night, my lady.”

  “How much worse?” Katherine asked, sick with dread.

  Nancy drew a deep breath,“Much.”

  Well, that was descriptive and helpful. She had to think. Her eyes darted to the window.

  “I fear the fall would kill you.” Nancy read her thoughts.

  Drat.

  Allowing herself a few minutes of silent pity, Katherine closed her eyes and sighed. Things could always be worse. She could be deathly ill, or perhaps crippled, or blind, or…

  She shuddered. After all, it was never a good sign when one had to think of death in comparison to her current situation.

  Katherine managed to make it down the stairs, though she took great pains to methodically count each step, for in her mind, it was a reminder of how many steps she would take until she entered the inferno.

  How was it, she wondered, that God allowed such a man to live?

  Upon entering the room, she was given her answer.

  For like Lucifer himself, the man was too beautiful to kill.

  Curse him.

  “Ah, my dear, there you are!” Her father embraced her and patted her on the head. But Katherine’s eyes never left the duke’s.