A December with a Duke: A Regency Romance (Seductive Scoundrels Book 3)

by Collette Cameron

  She toyed with fire, and with a man of his caliber, experienced and devilishly charming, she’d get burned. Charred to cinders.

  “What goes on in that beautiful head of yours?” He touched her cheek again, then spread his fingers until they framed her jaw.

  Given the temperature, the black leather should’ve been cool to the touch, yet heat seared her face.

  “I see wariness and confusion,” he said. “But mostly, dread of being hurt again.”

  At last she dropped her gaze to the buttons on his greatcoat. Mouth dry as parchment, she swallowed.

  “Why should I stay, Your Grace?”

  “Because I’m inclined to take the risk and grant your request. Sometimes it’s necessary to take a chance. Particularly if we seek something worthwhile.”

  She gave him a hard look.

  Was he still talking about Sarah?

  Withdrawing his hand, he swept the house a casual glance.

  “I’ve not seen Sarah this animated or cooperative since . . . Well, ever. As I said last night, she hadn’t reached her second birthday when I sailed from India with her, and she’s had a hard time adjusting. Her reaction to you is nothing short of miraculous.”

  “She likes my hair.” Everleigh raised a hand to her temple. “She says it’s angel hair.”

  “Hair your shade is rare, even in England. She’s never seen the like.” He gathered her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow once more.

  “You aren’t interested in becoming a duchess, are you?”

  At once she stiffened and opened her mouth to ring him a peal, but his jovial wink sucked all the ire from her.

  He but teased.

  “No. Not a duchess or wife to any man of any station ever again.”

  She couldn’t speak plainer. Best to nip any wayward notions he might have in the bud. Only a fool didn’t learn from past experience.

  Rather than taking offense, a sympathetic smile to tipped his mouth, and compassion simmered in his dark gaze.

  “I admire your pluck. And your strength. You are a remarkable woman, Everleigh Chatterton.”

  If he’d said he worshipped her beauty or some other flattering hogwash she’d heard before, she’d have been able to dismiss his compliment. Instead, foreign warmth seeped into her bones.

  He steered her around an ornate marble fountain topped with a trio of cherubs and four crouching horses beneath. No water flowed today, probably a precaution against the freezing weather.

  “Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

  “No, I intended to after my walk.”

  “You don’t attend Sunday services in Colchester?”

  “No.” She shook her head before glancing over her shoulder. A caravan of vehicles rattled and squeaked their way down the drive. “I know it’s expected, but I’ve not been able to since . . .”

  She touched a gloved finger to the oval locket, barely detectable beneath her cloak and redingote.

  Would he judge her as so many others had?

  She glanced upward, searching his expression for any sign of censure.

  “I cannot stop being angry with God for letting Meredith die.”

  She hadn’t been angry with Him after being ruined or forced to wed Andrew. At least not this lingering inability to let go of her hurt. But when she lost her baby too? Well, that had pushed the limits of her faith, and her beliefs had shattered under the weight of her anguish.

  Sympathy softened his features. He covered her hand with his and squeezed. “You have my sincerest condolences. I cannot fathom the depth of your grief at such a tremendous loss.”

  “Thank you.” She drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs to capacity, willing herself not to cry in front of him. After a second, she released the air in a whoosh.

  “Why don’t you attend church, Your Grace?”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment.

  “I didn’t want to leave Sarah only a day after arriving. True, she mightn’t even know I’m gone, but I don’t want to put Mrs. Schmidt in that position.” He glanced overhead for a long moment. “At one time I too struggled with anger toward God. When my parents died, but especially after Sarah’s mother died, and she was left an orphan. Time has helped ease that disappointment, and a realization that the matter was out of my hands. What I did afterward is what counts.”

  “You must’ve loved Sarah’s mother very much.”

  An odd twinge pinched her lungs.

  He looked so taken aback, she almost chuckled.

  “Meera was a friend, nothing more. Her husband Rajiv saved my life five years ago. I was set upon by thieves. They beat me severely. That’s how I got this.”

  He pointed to his scarred nose.

  “But Rajiv chased them off then took me to his house. People would call it a hovel here, but he and Meera had made it into a comfortable home. Though they were poor, they somehow paid for a physician to treat me, and they nursed me back to health until I was well enough to tell them who I was. Rajiv refused to let me repay him, though I know he could’ve used the money.”

  He stopped and leaned against a Grecian statue.

  “Every time I went to India, I visited them. Rajiv wouldn’t accept money but allowed me to bring gifts. Sarah’s doll is one of the them. The time before last, when I arrived, Meera told me Rajiv had died. A bull elephant went berserk and trampled him.”

  Everleigh sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s awful.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed.

  “Meera and Sarah were on the verge of starving. I made arrangements to send them funds and supplies monthly, since she refused to leave India and come to England. It was the least I could do.”

  He grew silent for a moment, his bent forefinger pressed to his lips as if he struggled to control his emotions.

  There was more to this man than she’d ever have guessed.

  “The last time I was there, I learned that Meera had died. A sickness of some sort. I never did find out what exactly. Another family occupied their house, and Sarah was living in a crate behind it. I don’t know why they didn’t take her in, or if she had any other family, but I knew at once I must take her from there. If I’d been even a week later, she’d have starved to death.”

  They resumed walking, the frozen gravel crunching beneath their feet.

  “The poor little dear.”

  Tears blurred Everleigh’s vision, and she bit the corner of her lower lip against a sob.

  Voice husky, she managed, “You are a truly decent man, Your Grace.”

  He chuckled. “Not everyone would agree with you. I’m no saint, and I don’t pretend to be, but common decency demanded I help the child of the man who saved my life.”

  He mightn’t be a saint, but plenty of people wouldn’t have thought Sarah their responsibility.

  They’d made the house, and he opened the door for her.

  “What say you, we have our breakfast in the nursery?” he asked as she stepped inside.

  Everleigh grinned for the first time in a long while. “That sounds delightful.”

  “There you are.”

  Everleigh went rigid as Caroline’s strident voice shattered the pleasant mood.

  Griffin gnashed his teeth to keep from telling Caroline Chatterton to bugger off.

  “I thought you were leaving,” he said crisply as he closed the door.

  Attired in a dusky green traveling gown, she turned her seductive gaze on him, trailing his form in a manner that made him want to take a bath.

  Her rouged mouth twisted slightly to the side.

  “I am, just as soon as I’ve had a word with Everleigh. The carriage awaits me even now. My cousins in Kent are anxious I spend the holiday with them.”

  Balderdash. Her cousins probably didn’t know she was about to show up on their doorstep and ruin their holiday.

  “We don’t have anything to say to one another. Please excuse me.” Everleigh made to move past her.

  “I have a proposition.” Caroline played with
the fingers of the gloves she held, her arrogance slipping a notch. “I think it would be beneficial to us both, most especially you.”

  Everleigh sighed but faced her. “What is it?”

  “Can we speak privately?” Caroline slid Griffin a pointed glance.

  “I’ll wait for you in the nursery.” He didn’t bother lifting his hat in farewell to Caroline.

  “I’ll be along shortly,” Everleigh said. “Don’t wait for me to break your fast.”

  “How positively domesticated you two sound.” Jealousy made Caroline’s voice strident.

  “Should we expect a joyful announcement soon?” She made an exaggerated ‘O’ with her mouth and pressed two fingers to her lips, feigning surprise. “But I thought you’d sworn off ever marrying again.” Her vapid gaze dropped to Everleigh’s middle. “Unless . . . you’re breeding another bastard?”

  “Watch your tongue, Mrs. Chatterton.” Griffin unbuttoned his overcoat. Made for the bitter cold, it was much too heavy for indoors. “You not only disparage Everleigh, but you besmirch me with your innuendos, and I assure you, I don’t take kindly to insults or to my honor being sullied.”

  What a malicious harpy. It was a wonder Chatterton the younger didn’t do himself in, married to a shrew like her.

  Except for the minutest flinch, Everleigh maintained her poise.

  “On second thought, Your Grace, I should like a witness to my conversation with Caroline. A man of standing whose word is respected and who can vouch for what is said.”

  Irritation crimped Caroline’s mouth. “That’s really not necessary—”

  “Oh, but it is. If you want me to stay and listen to this proposition.” Everleigh folded her arms. “You see, I’ve learned to protect myself, and I have you and the other Chattertons to thank for making me so cautious.”

  Caroline’s fuming gaze waffled between Griffin and Everleigh. Lips pursed and looking like she’d sucked moldy bread, she gave a condescending sigh. “I truly don’t understand why you must always be so difficult.”

  “I’m hungry and cold, Caroline. Get on with it before I change my mind.”

  Everleigh removed her bonnet as she spoke.

  “Oh, very well.” Caroline leveled Griffin a peeved glare, but he merely cocked a brow in response.

  “I believe I can help you with the unpleasant tattle I’ve heard of late. I shall squash any murmurings I hear about your involvement in Arnold’s and Frederick’s deaths in exchange for ten thousand pounds.” Caroline declared it as if granting a royal pardon.

  Griffin barely stifled an incredulous snort. She had ballocks; he’d give her that. Not a jot of common decency however.

  Her gaze skittered away from his reproachful stare.

  A hint of color highlighting her cheekbones, she tilted her pointed chin to a haughty angle. “I also promise not to ask for any more funds from you.”

  How magnanimous.

  “Let me make sure I understand you clearly.” Everleigh waggled her bonnet toward the other woman. “If I concede to your blackmail—for that’s what this is—you’ll squelch the rumors you started? Do you think me an imbecile? You’ll squander any monies I give you just as you did those I already paid you, and then you’ll demand more.”

  Everleigh was absolutely right. Mrs. Chatterton was a parasite who’d keep coming back as long as she believed her extortion would work.

  “I wouldn’t be too anxious to turn down my offer. I can destroy you.” Caroline advanced toward Everleigh, all semblance of civility having flown. “You’d best be careful an accident doesn’t befall you as well.”

  “Have you forgotten I’m standing here, Mrs. Chatterton?” Griffin said, squaring his shoulders. “For that sounded very much like a threat to me. You’d best hope nothing does happen to Everleigh, because yours is the first name I’ll give the authorities, along with a sworn statement that I heard you threaten her.”

  Stepping forward, he blocked her path to Everleigh. “I think you should leave now.”

  “I’m leaving, but rest assured, Everleigh, you haven’t seen or heard the last from me.” Caroline jerked on one of her gloves as she stomped away.

  “By the by, Caroline. . .?” Everleigh pulled at that tips of one gloved hand.

  Caroline glared over her shoulder as she crammed her hand into the other unfortunate glove.

  “If anything should happen to me, Rayne and my cousins have been named my heirs.” Everleigh had unclasped her cloak and, after shrugging if from her shoulders, lay it across an arm. Tone as frosty as the ground outside, she said, “You won’t get a six-pence, even in a Christmas pudding. However, if you are willing to sign a contract with very specific terms, I may consider advancing you funds one final time.”

  Caroline let loose an oath Griffin had only heard seasoned doxies use before as she flounced down the corridor.

  “I do believe that was a no.”

  His jest earned him a slight smile as they made their way toward the stairs.

  “Everleigh, you don’t owe her anything.”

  “I know, but I also know how utterly terrifying it is to be a woman without anything in a man’s world. If she agrees in writing to never bother me again, it would be worth it. I’ll consult with my solicitor after the first of the year and see what he suggests.”

  Something pleasant tumbled against his ribs.

  “Does that mean you’re staying for the duration of the house party then?”

  Why did her answer matter so much?

  He was wasting time with her: a woman who might be a splendid mother to Sarah, but who had no interest in marrying. What he ought to be doing was determining if any of the other female guests would make a suitable mother. And if he found one that would, could he abide being married to her, let alone faithful, for the decades to come?

  That shouldn’t be too terribly hard to tolerate, since he still intended to travel extensively—at least six months out of the year. He’d already postponed a trip to Greece and another to Rome since bringing Sarah to England.

  Could he bear being away from Sarah that long? He’d grown quiet attached to the little minx and she to him.

  Everleigh remained silent as they ascended the first flight of stairs. One of her hair pins had come loose and was in danger of slipping from her hair.

  He drew her to a halt before the stairway to their floor.

  She cast him a questioning look.

  “Just a moment. Your hairpin is coming out.”

  He pushed the pearl capped pin into her hair, taking a moment to brush a finger across the soft strands. Her hair really was extraordinary, as fair as milk. No wonder Sarah had asked if she was an angel.

  Everleigh’s perfume—light, faintly tinted with vanilla and perhaps lilies—wafted upward, the scent as addictive as any opioid.

  Neck bent, she remained absolutely motionless.

  A gut-wrenching thought pummeled him.

  Was she afraid of him?

  Or did she grieve for her daughter?

  Insensitive clod. He’d nearly forgotten the significance of the day.

  “Everleigh?”

  Very slowly and just as gently, he placed a bent finger beneath her chin and edged it upward.

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  Her brilliant green eyes rounded before her gold-tipped lashes fluttered downward, fanning her high cheekbones. Color blossomed beneath the dark fringe. No Ice-Queen here. In fact, other than that brief interlude when she said she was going to leave, she’d been almost cordial to him.

  He brushed his thumb across her chin, just below her peach-tinted lower lip. Each time he touched her skin the satiny smoothness awed him. Was she that flawless all over?

  “Are you?”

  She shook her head. “No. At least I don’t think I am, but you do make me uneasy in a queer way.”

  His chest expanded in profound relief. She didn’t even realize what she felt was carnal awareness. Desire. No wonder, considering the abuse she’d suffered. He’
d wager his favorite horse she didn’t trust her instincts.

  That was fine.

  He trusted his, and the woman standing uncertainly before him was curious but timid. Had she ever been kissed with tenderness?

  She still didn’t move nor had she opened her eyes.

  Flattening a palm at the small of her back, he drew her ever nearer.

  “Everleigh, I want to kiss you, but I shan’t if it will make you afraid, or if you don’t want me to.”

  A lengthy moment passed and, just when he as about to suggest they continue to the nursery, she lifted her mouth.

  Humility overwhelmed him that this gentle woman, who had no reason to trust him, would gift him not only with her trust, but a kiss from her luscious lips.

  Slowly, so he wouldn’t startle her, he lowered his head and barely brushed her lips with his.

  She stiffened, then relaxed, a small smile playing around the edges of her mouth.

  He kissed her again, this time pressing his mouth to hers a bit more firmly, but making no attempt to deepen the kiss. She wasn’t ready for that level of intimacy yet.

  “See, that wasn’t so awful, was it?”

  Her eyelids slowly drifted upward, and wonder shone in her eyes before a mischievous gleam entered them, making the gold shards in her irises glint.

  She swatted his arm.

  “As if I’d tell you. You’re already too full of yourself. I shall admit it wasn’t too terribly dreadful.”

  He chuckled, absolutely enthralled with this playful, bantering Everleigh.

  As they continued to the nursery he couldn’t keep from asking her again.

  “Will you stay for all of the Duchess of Sutcliffe’s festivities? Please.”

  For God’s sake, man.

  He was all but pleading.

  And toward what end?

  If she let me kiss her, might she not also let me woo her?

  A lot could happen in a December with a determined duke. Wasn’t the season supposed to be one of miracles?

  Head bent, mouth flattened into a considering line, she pondered his question.

  He liked that about her. She thought before she spoke or reacted.

  She gave him a small, almost shy smile.

  “I shall stay.”