The Forbidden Duke

by Burke, Darcy

  When he reached the subscription room, he was aware of the buzz dying more quickly than usual, of the stares that seemed to burn straight through his coat. He’d created a bit of a sensation by directly approaching Haywood and taking him upstairs, and that rankled. He could only imagine what they would say when they learned he’d hit Haywood. But Haywood wouldn’t tell them that. He was vain and self-important enough to fabricate a story to explain his split lip. Still, people would draw their own conclusions.

  Titus shrugged the irritation away. People would always draw their own conclusions. And there was nothing he could do about it, save intimidate them, which he was not above doing. Instead of keeping his attention forward and ignoring everyone as he typically did, he sent a few well-directed stares, silently communicating that they should all mind their own business. Would they? How much influence did the Forbidden Duke really carry?

  He didn’t really give a damn what any of them thought. He did, however, care what they thought of Nora. She hadn’t deserved what had happened to her nine years ago, and she sure as hell didn’t deserve it now. She especially didn’t deserve Haywood causing her yet more heartache.

  At least that would stop. Titus was certain he’d successfully prevented Haywood from bothering her again. He’d pen a note to his stepmother as soon as he returned home and assure her of that fact.

  Then he ought to visit his mistress. He still hadn’t been to see her since that first night. He’d much rather visit Nora and ensure she was all right after her encounter with Haywood, but he wouldn’t do that either. No, he’d do what he’d done every night the past week—he’d go home alone and dream of an auburn-haired beauty with enchanting tawny eyes.

  He had to accept that he was far more interested in Nora than he ought to be. This changed nothing, however. He wasn’t looking for a wife, and if he were, she would never want him once she learned the truth about the past. It was past time he quashed his inconvenient attraction.

  Chapter Eight

  When Nora came down to dinner the following evening, she stopped short in the doorway. Kendal stood near the table, talking to Lord Satterfield. He looked terribly handsome, dressed in an impeccable dark blue coat and pantaloons that had to be the absolute latest in the style of men’s garments. They hugged his thighs, presenting an exceptional portrait of a virile gentleman.

  “Kendal, you’ve come for dinner!” Lady Satterfield’s exclamation came from just behind Nora.

  Both men turned to look at the doorway, and Nora fought to keep a blush from staining her cheeks. They could have no idea that she’d been standing there gaping at Kendal. Lady Satterfield, on the other hand, might very well have caught her in the act.

  Nora moved into the dining room along with Lady Satterfield, who went to her stepson. Kendal bussed her cheek in greeting. “I hope it’s no trouble that I’ve come.”

  “Never. I see your place has already been set,” she said. “Let us sit. Harley looks ready to serve.”

  Satterfield always sat at the head, with his wife at his right and Nora on his left. Tonight there were two seats on the left, which meant she’d be sitting next to Kendal.

  While Satterfield held his wife’s chair, Kendal performed the same service for Nora.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, feeling unaccountably nervous.

  The first course, including soup, boiled beef, and carrots was served, and wine was poured. Nora had been overwhelmed by the wealth of food since her arrival at the Satterfields, but was beginning to grow accustomed to it. It wasn’t that she and her father had gone hungry, but they’d led a very simple life.

  “The weather has been exceptional,” Satterfield said. “Did you ride today, Kendal?”

  “I did.” He looked at Nora. “Do you ride?”

  “Not well. My cousins—they sponsored my first Seasons—introduced me to it, but I never mastered the sport, I’m afraid.”

  “We shall have to rectify that,” Lady Satterfield said. “I can picture you in a cunning riding hat. We shall have to shop for a habit.”

  Kendal chuckled as he flashed his stepmother a look. “And what of the horse? She’ll need something to ride.”

  “We have a horse.” She looked at her husband. “Don’t we, dear?”

  “Not one that is suitable for Nora. However, I’m certain Kendal has an appropriate mount.” He sent a questioning look at the duke.

  Before Kendal could respond, Lady Satterfield interjected. “I just remembered that Mrs. Gilchrist invited us to ride at their house outside town.” She looked at Nora. “Would you feel comfortable doing that?”

  Nora had met Mrs. Gilchrist and her son Mr. Barnaby Gilchrist yesterday at the picnic. She’d taken a walk with Mr. Gilchrist, and he’d talked mostly of horses. And fish. She’d enjoyed her time with Mr. Dawson more. But then neither could compare to Kendal.

  She stole a quick glance in his direction. His dark hair brushed the top of the white collar at the back of his head. The contrast was striking, especially when compared with the warm bronze of his skin. He was clean-shaven, but she could detect the dark shadow beginning to creep over his jaw. She looked away quickly, lest he catch her.

  “Nora?”

  Lady Satterfield’s query reminded her that she’d forgotten to answer. “I think I’d prefer to wait to ride in public until I’ve mastered at least a few practice walks.”

  “Kendal, do let us know when you can take her for a ride,” Lady Satterfield said.

  The duke looked at Nora, and the impact of his gaze curled her toes. Goodness, she was as fervent as she’d been in her youth. Had she learned nothing? Resolved to ignore her attraction to the duke, she focused on her meal and tried to think of Mr. Dawson, who likely wouldn’t care if she could ride or not.

  “Kendal, how are your stables at Lakemoor?” Satterfield asked. “We didn’t venture up for a visit this past fall. I shall make it a priority this year. You put on quite a hunt.”

  Nora peeked over at him. Did he host a hunting party? She was surprised, given his reputation. She didn’t think he socialized at all.

  “It’s a small affair, if you recall.”

  “Yes, but I like that. So many hunting parties have little to do with hunting.” Satterfield chuckled. “Or so it seems.”

  “That’s because Kendal only invites local gentlemen and you, my dear,” Lady Satterfield said. “It isn’t a proper house party at all.” She looked at her stepson with slightly pursed lips but said nothing more.

  “It isn’t a house party.” Kendal’s tone was light, but there was a thread of steel.

  Nora had the sense that Lady Satterfield wasn’t pleased with Kendal’s lack of social activity.

  Lady Satterfield sighed. “Yes, yes, I know.” She sipped her wine, then offered her stepson a warm smile. “Whatever makes you happy, dear.”

  Was that what made him happy? Keeping to himself? Did he prefer isolation? Having endured nine years of that, Nora suppressed a shudder. While she’d found Society challenging, she couldn’t imagine going back to a life of seclusion and hoped she wouldn’t have to.

  The conversation turned to a variety of topics—from Kendal’s work in the House of Lords to Nora’s family to the theater. It was, overall, one of the most pleasant evenings Nora had spent, and by the end of the last course, she’d actually relaxed in the duke’s presence. Maybe he wasn’t so forbidden after all. At least not to his close family—not that she believed she was one of them, but for now, she could perhaps enjoy this familiarity.

  “It’s a lovely evening,” Lady Satterfield said as she placed her napkin on the table. “Kendal, why don’t you take Nora for a walk around the garden?”

  Nora’s heartbeat sped. There went the comfort she’d only just found.

  But why? It was a walk, nothing more, through a very small walled garden. And maybe he didn’t even want to go.

  “Certainly.” Kendal stood and helped Nora from her chair.

  Apparently, he did want to go. Or he was merely
being polite.

  Lord Satterfield assisted Lady Satterfield. “I’m off to my club for a bit.” He pressed a kiss to his wife’s cheek.

  She leaned close with a warm smile before looking toward Nora and Kendal. “And I’ll just be up in my sitting room answering some correspondence. I don’t think I need to chaperone you for such a short jaunt.”

  They all went their separate ways—Lord and Lady Satterfield exiting the dining room into the main hallway and Kendal and Nora to the rear sitting room, which functioned as a library and general gathering space for the family. Kendal offered Nora his arm and led her into the cozy room in which she’d spent several evenings reading from the Satterfields’ excellent collection of books.

  The library was not a small chamber; however, it seemed somehow smaller tonight. Kendal’s presence seemed to invade every nook and inhabit every cranny, and Nora was nearly overcome with awareness. And nervousness.

  She rushed to say something to put herself at ease. “I quite enjoy the Satterfields’ library.”

  He paused, pivoting toward the bookcases that marched along one wall. “Do you? What are your favorites?”

  Nora wondered what he’d think of her tastes, which ran the gamut from romantic novels to gothic tales to poetry to suspenseful narratives. “I have many. I’m afraid it’s difficult to choose.”

  “What’s the last one you read, then?”

  She hesitated, but only briefly. “A romantic novel by Sarah Wilkinson.” Presumably, he’d find her tastes lacking.

  “I’ve read all of her books.”

  Nora looked up at him in surprise. “You read Sarah Wilkinson?”

  He gave her a sly look. “Perhaps you noticed that Lady Satterfield owns every title. She’s always had a penchant for such stories, and, in my youth, I read everything I could get my hands on. Everything.”

  Nora pressed her fingers to her mouth and giggled. “Do you like romantic novels?”

  “I don’t dislike them. If I’m in a particular mood, I’ve been known to read three or four in a week.”

  Her giggles turned to outright laughter. “The Forbidden Duke reads tawdry romances? What would the ton say?”

  “I don’t give a damn what anyone says, but I suppose that would cause a stir.”

  How lovely it must be not to care—not to have to care—what others said about you. “Everything you do causes a stir,” she said, her laughter dying down. “The novels would make you seem more human, however.” She inwardly winced at how awful that sounded. “Oh dear, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to infer you aren’t human.”

  He took her hand and tucked her fingers beneath his coat, guiding her palm flat against his waistcoat directly over his heart. “You can feel that I am.”

  Nora’s breath caught. She looked up at him, her gaze locking with his. “I never doubted it.”

  He let go of her hand, and she slowly, reluctantly let it fall to her side. Frissons of excitement danced up her arms and spread, awakening her senses.

  “You are correct, however, that others perhaps view me differently,” he said. “I don’t allow them the opportunity to be this close.”

  Yet he was permitting her. Again, she considered that he did so only because she was his stepmother’s ward. But because she was curious and impetuous, she asked, “Why am I different?” Immediately she wanted to take it back. She wasn’t different, of course. She was simply here. “Please forget I asked. You are too kind to pay attention to me and support my cause.”

  His lips twisted into a slight frown. “I’m not doing this out of kindness.”

  She wasn’t precisely certain what “this” meant, but she wasn’t going to ask for clarification. “Then why are you doing it?”

  “I don’t know.” He fingered a wisp of hair that grazed her ear. It was a singular moment, as if time ceased to exist between them. But it was fleeting too. He quickly retreated from her, turning his back as he went toward the fireplace. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

  He turned once he was a safe distance from her. “I wanted to ask if you were all right after Haywood insulted you at the picnic.” His tone was crisp, almost businesslike, but it didn’t calm the sudden tumult of anxiety that spilled through her.

  She’d so hoped her encounter with Haywood would go unnoticed, but it seemed scandal might plague her again. “What did you hear?”

  “I don’t listen to gossip. My stepmother informed me of his unwanted attention toward you.” His brows pitched low for a brief moment. “I’ve ensured he won’t bother you again.”

  She couldn’t begin to imagine what that meant. “What did you do?”

  He glanced away from her and shrugged. “He knows he’s not to speak with you or even speak of you. Not only do I not listen to gossip, I don’t tolerate it concerning people I care about.”

  Nora froze. He cared about her? The rush of panic she’d felt at being at the heart of another scandal faded and was replaced with a warmth she couldn’t quite name. “I still don’t know what I did to gain your family’s support. I…thank you.”

  “Why do you think you have to have done something?” His dark brows drew together, and while he didn’t look exactly fierce, he possessed an intensity that could very well be intimidating. “Are you that unused to kindness?”

  Yes, in fact, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit such a shameful truth. She laughed, but it held a ring of discomfort. “You must agree that it’s a bit extraordinary for a prominent family—a duke’s family—to take in a young woman like me.”

  “Like you,” he repeated. It wasn’t a question, but he said it in such a way he seemed to want to know what she meant. Surely he knew of her background. They hadn’t spoken directly of it, but of course he knew.

  She wanted to be certain. She looked him straight in the eye. “A woman who has been ruined by scandal.”

  He slowly arched his brow. “You deserve to be here. You deserve to find happiness—everyone does.”

  A kind and thoughtful Untouchable who seemed to find her interesting… She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his potent stare. “What about you, Your Grace? Are you happy?”

  “I’m not unhappy.”

  She resisted the urge to smile. “That’s not exactly a resounding proclamation of joy.”

  “I am quite happy at Lakemoor. I enjoy working with my tenants. I enjoy my horses.”

  “And reading tawdry romance novels. Please don’t leave out the most interesting thing about you.”

  A laugh erupted from his chest, and Nora gave in to her grin. “Yes, let’s not leave that out.” He walked across the room toward her, coming as close as he’d been before. “Shall we resume our walk?”

  He took her hand and curled it around his forearm. His heat, his scent, his proximity filled her senses. She clasped him more tightly with the need to anchor herself.

  The familiarity she’d believed to have sprung up between them at dinner and over the course of their other encounters suddenly transformed into something else—intimacy. And with it came a hunger for this man who said she deserved to be happy, who danced with her, and who’d come to her rescue with Haywood. She longed to stroke her fingers along the firm line of his jaw, perhaps feel the hairs sprouting there now at the end of the day. Would they be prickly or soft? Tantalizing or abrasive? Tantalizing, she was certain.

  More than that, she wondered what his lips would feel like on hers. The solitary kiss she’d experienced nine years ago hadn’t been pleasant, even before the scandal had broken. She hadn’t been in a hurry to try it again, not that she’d had the chance. But now, standing here so close to Kendal, she couldn’t help but think his kiss would be different. His kiss would be everything she’d dreamed of and more.

  She reminded herself that she couldn’t kiss him, and that she probably shouldn’t even be alone with him. This was precisely what had landed her in trouble in the first place. Oh, but if she could kiss him without anyone finding out…

  Walking with him in t
he garden was perhaps a foolish idea, but Nora still couldn’t bring herself to say no.

  Chapter Nine

  Titus guided her out onto the terrace, then down the pair of steps into his stepmother’s garden. “It might be small, but Lady Satterfield prides herself on the roses in particular. You should see the gardens at their country home.”

  He was fairly certain his attempt at small talk was pathetic in the extreme, but his brain was having a difficult time outpacing his body at present. The touch of Nora’s hand on his arm, the sensuous curl of her lips as she spoke to him, the provocative slant of her tawny eyes—all of it triggered an exquisite need.

  Walking with her in the garden was a bloody terrible idea. But he was doing it anyway.

  He steered her toward the roses he’d mentioned. They weren’t blooming yet, but in a few weeks, they’d be a riot of color and a buffet of gorgeous scents.

  She inclined her head toward the neat row of shrubs. “We have roses back in St. Ives. Tending to them was one of my favorite summertime activities.”

  He envisioned her alone in the country, clipping at rosebushes, perhaps pricking her fingers on their nasty thorns. Somehow that seemed a metaphor for Society—beautiful but treacherous. “Will you miss that? I’m sure my stepmother wouldn’t mind if you wanted to tinker with these.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, but I think she will have me too busy with other things. She’s quite committed to ensuring I have a Season to remember.”

  Complete with a husband. He barely managed not to scowl.

  They walked for a moment in silence. He should leave. He’d only come to dinner because he enjoyed dining with his stepparents. Except now, that dinner came with a beguiling woman who occupied far too many of his thoughts. A woman he’d pledged to avoid but couldn’t seem to.