The Duke's Undoing (Three Rogues and Their Ladies)

by Vandagriff, G. G.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  OVER THE ANVIL

  Ruisdell gathered Elise into his arms and felt her still-wet hair and clothing. The smell of wet wool mixed with the lemony scent that still clung to her, despite the rain she had ridden through. Though there were still many things unsaid between them, never had anyone or anything been more precious to him. He was tremendously moved by what she had endured to reach him. “My little love, how far have you ridden?”

  “From Grantham. A Runner was following our carriage, so I had to slip away.”

  “Am I mistaken, or have you muddied George’s best riding kit?”

  He led her inside and back to the kitchen where Mrs. Dean was baking scones for his breakfast.

  The stout woman blinked at the sight of Elise, shivering and muddy. “My dear girl! What has happened to you?”

  She explained the bare details of her flight followed by a request for a hot bath, to be followed by breakfast, and a brace of hot water bottles in her bed for an extended nap. “Thank you very much for taking in my betrothed,” she said. “Why did you do it?”

  “I remembered that he was very fond of you. Enough to break your door down. Anyone who is fond of you must have a good side to him. But I did warn him about keeping the house in one piece.”

  Ruisdell contemplated his beloved with adoration, tempered by amusement. What a woman she was. Imagine riding, alone, through a thunderstorm all the way from Grantham, through the night. Surely, if he had needed proof of her love, here it was. In spades.

  To Mrs. Dean’s surprise, he insisted on carrying the hot water cans up to his fiancée’s dressing room where her bathtub awaited her. He furnished her with his paisley dressing gown to put on after her bath, wondering if there were any shops in the village that sold female attire. Mrs. Dean told him that he would be able to buy a few things readymade but did not believe their style would suit his fiancée.

  “At this point,” he told the housekeeper, “she is more concerned with covering her nakedness than with style.”

  Mrs. Dean looked shocked. He rode off to town, chuckling.

  When Elise woke from her nap at two o’clock in the afternoon, he was pleased to see her appear in the library in the royal blue Merino wool gown with the paisley wool shawl he had purchased. Yes, he had gauged her size perfectly.

  “All right, my love, now we must talk. We cannot remain in close proximity for long, however, or I will ravish you thoroughly. And I am guessing that that would not suit you at the moment. You are bound be profoundly saddle sore.”

  She gave a happy sigh and grinned at him. “You possess amazing healing powers. Any soreness began to pass from my body the moment you held me in your arms this morning.” As he sat in the desk chair, she hoisted herself easily onto the desk top and swung her legs as though she were a young girl still dressed in George’s breeches. For a few moments, they just looked at each other. To him, it felt as if they had been separated for months. He drank in the sight of her—her deep blue eyes, tender with love for him, her luscious mouth with its intriguing short upper lip, her long delectable neck. Beneath her lovely breasts he knew that her heart was beating a tattoo. He could see the pulse in her smooth, white throat, just under her chin. They were on fire for each other. He wanted to kiss her, to plunder her lusciousness, but there were things that must be said.

  “Heaven knows you are a lot of trouble. I’ve known it ever since George made me aware of your history. Do you suppose you will manage to settle for one husband and no fiancés?”

  “I never thought I’d love another man when Joshua died. He was my soulmate for so many years. I haven’t known you long, and most of what I’ve heard about you is thoroughly disreputable. Since you seem to have taken my egregious faults in stride, however, I can do no less for you.” She looked down at her hands that were suddenly busy pleating the cloth of her skirt. When she raised her head, there were tears in her eyes. “I know you did not cheat at cards, Peter. Once I came to London and saw you again that first time with the soldiers, I knew that Gregory had lied to me.” The tears fell. “But it was too late.” Launching herself off the desk, she curled up on his lap, looping her arms around his neck and hiding her face in his cravat. “The publishers refused to stop the presses. I thought I could get Gregory to buy all the copies, but of course he refused. He was the cheat, was he not?”

  Ruisdell nodded, holding her tightly to his chest. “I thought it was the decent thing to cover it up. I didn’t think he fully realized the gravity of cheating at cards. But I came to know that he was a credible devil and cheating was a way of life to him.”

  “The marquis told me what happened at the duel. Thank heavens he was not a better shot!”

  “Thank heavens, indeed. Does it not bother you that I killed him?”

  “No doubt it is very cold-hearted of me, but when I heard the full story of what he did to you and how he tried to kill you so unfairly, I felt he got what he deserved. I think you were divinely spared, my love. Providence knew that your death would be the one thing I could never live through. I don’t think you have any idea how much I love you.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it sometimes, you little spitfire.”

  Unleashing him, she took one of his hands in a tight grip. Raising it to her mouth, she gave it a passionate kiss. Then, looking up at him she asked, “Forgive me?”

  In answer, he lowered his head to hers and let his pent up desire off its leash, kissing her with the fierceness and hunger that were the only things that had kept him from losing his mind during the events of the previous week. Her lips were eager and her breathing as heavy as his. Never in all these years had he desired a woman so much. Using control he had learned only on the battlefield, he ended the kiss.

  “I not only forgive you but I would have died for you, Elise. It was your honor I was fighting for as well as my own. Despite everything, you have become my Sunshine.”

  He finally told her the story of the disembodied voice. “Is it not wonderful?”

  Her eyes teared up again. “It is like Joshua. How he must have admired you.”

  They sat huddled together in silence while she sniffed. Finally, he offered her his handkerchief.

  Once she had blown her nose, she said, “I am quite aware that you must leave the country and am very much in favor of a long trip on the Continent. How irksome it is that there is a war on.”

  “I agree that Napoleon is inconvenient. But, my love, you have overlooked one little difficulty. Due to the press of matters in London, I failed to get a special license.”

  She smiled at him mischievously, her eyes twinkling. “I have always wanted to fly to Gretna Green like my heroines and be married over the anvil. And we are reasonably close to Scotland here, are we not?”

  He chuckled. “You think that would be romantic, do you?”

  She kissed his neck with little pecks and then whispered, “Not nearly as romantic as what comes afterwards.”

  Restraining himself with difficulty, he kissed her brow and the tip of her nose. “And what would you know about that?”

  “Not as much as I’d like.”

  Heated visions of holding her in his arms in their marriage bed, rolling over and over and over, tangling the sheets, almost robbed him of breath. “I love you, Elise. I love that you are a person in your own right. Not a woman in a hundred would have done what you did last night. I long to make you mine. I long for you to carry my seed, to make my children. I never want to be parted from you again.”

  “Not a woman in a million would have roasted you so thoroughly in a novel and caused you to have to fight a duel in which you could have been killed.”

  “There was never any danger of that. Your viscount was all talk. He couldn’t aim a gun literally to save his life. And, I think we can safely say that you have cured my ennui for good.”

  She grinned. “Somerset is going to miss you terribly. I will have to find him a wife when we return to England.”

 
; She was utterly adorable. Plundering her mouth again, he imagined once more what it would be like to partake of all her sweetness and had to pull himself up short.

  “You must get off my lap, love. You are making things exceedingly difficult for me. I think I had better pack my portmanteaux, and we must go into town and buy you another gown or two. It is a pity that Paris is off limits, but perhaps we can have some suitable gowns made for you once we reach Denmark. In Italy, we will buy your trousseau.”

  Depositing one more kiss on his temple, she leapt off his lap. “Shall we leave for Gretna in the morning?”

  “I fear we must, or I shall either lose my wits or despoil you.”

  *

  The hairy, uncouth blacksmith had never married a duke before. Using his anvil as an altar, Elise and Peter held their hands across it while he married them in his thick, Scottish brogue. Peter’s heart soared as he looked into the face of his beloved. She was weeping with joy, letting the tears fall freely.

  When the short service was complete, he carried her in his arms across the street to the inn conveniently supplied for newlyweds. And there, their separate roads, which had been nearly unendurably rocky, merged with the heat of their bodies. His love was unleashed upon her with a power he had never known. And her response to him was every bit as potent.

  As he lay afterwards, holding her to him, stroking her thick curls down the silkiness of her back, he knew that never had he treasured a woman so. Never had this act of possession, of creation been so sacred. Peter was reborn. Now bonded with Elise in this most intimate of ways, life stretched ahead, full of glorious possibilities.

  From this point on, he and his Sunshine would make their way together.

  THE END

  If you enjoyed The Duke’s Undoing, you’ll love the sequel, The Taming of Lady Kate.

  Here’s a sample:

  CHAPTER ONE

  IN WHICH OUR HERO RECEIVES

  THE SURPRISE OF HIS LIFE

  “Jack, dear, I appreciate the honor that you do me, but I’m afraid we just would not suit,” his childhood sweetheart said.

  “Not suit? Do not be missish, Caro. We’ve known each other for donkey’s years!” Jack leapt to his feet. Being on one knee in Caroline’s mother’s garden had been an absurd notion.

  “That is precisely the problem.” She smiled her sweet smile. His childhood playmate had grown into a honey-haired beauty who had retained her generous, unspoiled nature. All the same, he still had difficulty seeing her as the lovely woman she had become instead of the breech-clad tomboy he had helped out of her window at midnight.

  “Why should that be a problem?” he asked.

  “I want to marry for love, Jack.”

  This simple statement stunned him. It even hurt. He began to pace the flagstones. Lady Braithwaite’s prize roses in hues of coral, yellow, and blush pink surrounded them. It should have been romantic. “But I do love you, Caro. Surely you must know that! You are not just any woman to me.”

  “You love me as a small boy loves his favorite blanket. I make you feel secure and comfortable. I remind you of nursery teas with crumpets swimming in butter. But I want more than that for myself. I doubt you’ve really given this much thought at all, considering you must marry to gain control of your fortune. I’m the only woman to hand, at the moment.”

  He had not thought she would be so difficult to please. Someone must have turned her head with pretty speeches. What eligible young men did she know here in Wiltshire besides himself?

  “My feelings go beyond what you say,” he said. “Surely, you know you are become beautiful? That you have a disposition that suits me down to the ground? That a marriage between us would make our parents happy?”

  His words were true as far as they went. He supposed he had never really been in love. He enjoyed women; in fact, he adored women, just as he loved going about with his friends indulging in sport—shooting at Manton’s, boxing in Cribb’s Parlor, engaging in races with his high perch phaeton, playing at faro. Then, of course, there was what he thought of as his double life. His life had been so full up until now, he had never thought of looking for a wife. Caro’s flat-out refusal puzzled him.

  “But Jack! Surely I have told you that my Aunt Sukey has invited me to London? I am to leave in three days’ time. I am nineteen. It is past time that I had a Season. Even if I wanted to, I could not commit myself to a marriage now, when there are so many gentlemen yet to be met!”

  This gave Jack Bailey-Wintersham, Marquis of Northbrooke, pause, all right. The sobriquet Sukey together with Caro’s surname brought only one woman to mind. “The eccentric Lady Susannah Braithwaite is your aunt?”

  “Yes. Papa’s unmarried sister. She is very kind.”

  “Hmph. She is mad as a hatter. Crazy about beetles. Owns a preposterous tortoise, of all things. Kindness is not the word that comes to mind when one talks of Lady Susannah.”

  “She has very good connections. The Duke of Devonshire has been in love with her these many years. It was he who gave her Henry Five, her tortoise. And, in addition to that, she is a distinguished entomologist who has received an award from the Royal Society for her collection of beetles.”

  “My sweet Caro, I cannot imagine you living in such a household. Much better marry me than to become a bluestocking.”

  “We are childhood sweethearts, Jack. I fear that is all we will ever be. In your mind, I will always be a hoyden with whom you learned to ride to hounds and whom you boosted over the fence to steal apples from Farmer Wright. I want to marry someone in whose eyes I am delicate and irresistible. Whose kiss thrills me to my toes.”

  “Fustian! You read too many novels. Why should our friendship not be a fine basis for marriage? Do you not remember our blood oath?” he asked.

  “You do not mean to hold me to a promise made when I was but twelve!”

  “So you are actually turning me down in order to go consort with Whigs, beetles, and a tortoise?”

  “Yes, I am. And I’m afraid this is final, Jack. You would ride roughshod over me. You have always liked your own way far too much.”

  He scowled.

  She continued, putting a gentle hand on his arm. “I know you are in great demand among London hostesses. You shall have to do the Season this year—go to the balls, the routs, the picnics. You will find someone who will make your heart beat faster, Jack. Someone who will require you to make an effort to win her.”

  “It sounds inexpressibly wearisome. I would much rather marry you and settle here in Wiltshire.”

  “Yes, that would be the easy thing,” Caro agreed. “But I am convinced there is more than such a life. Something thrilling awaits both of us in London, mark my words!”

  So saying, she gathered her peach-colored flounces and disappeared into her house. Jack looked after her in bewilderment. Women! So, he had never kissed her! Was that what this was all about? Well, maybe that was not precisely how he felt about Caro, but he simply could not imagine being leg-shackled to anyone else.

  CHAPTER TWO

  IN WHICH OUR HEROINE RECEIVES A BLOW

  Lady Kate Derramore was painting a study of her garden in oils when her butler informed her that Cousin Freddie requested her presence in the library. Wishing it were permissible for ladies to curse in such situations, she stuck her brush in turpentine, shrugged off her painting smock, and looked at her hands.

  Cousin Freddie will just have to take me as he finds me. Curses on any and all entails!

  Walking into what she would always consider Papa’s study, she sat down across from her cousin, who was busy making a to-do about reading some document. He looked up, simulating surprise.

  “Ah, there you are, Cousin. Thank you for coming. I have a particular reason for wanting to speak with you.”

  “Yes?”

  “I have good news! Emily is increasing at last!”

  Her grumpiness vanished, and she jumped up from her chair, clapping her hands in glee. “Oh, that is not just good news, th
at is the best news! Congratulations, Freddie! How is she feeling?”

  “Right as a trivet, fortunately. We expect the happy event in the autumn. We have not told you sooner because we wanted to be safely past the point at which she miscarried the last time.” Clearing his throat, he assumed his stern Lord of the Manor face. “I have some other news as well.”

  Kate suddenly knew what was coming. By some means, he had arranged for her to leave what had always been her home.

  “I have been corresponding with your Aunt Clarice in London. You are nineteen, and out of mourning. Given the terms of your father’s will, it is high time you had a Season.”

  “And who is to pay for it, pray? I cannot ask that of you, Freddie. Particularly as you are about to become a father.”

  “I have been setting aside all the stud fees paid for your father’s stallion, Apollo. You inherited him, so it is only right that you should have the money. I have consulted with Emily and with your Aunt Clarice. The money will easily pay for all the gowns and fripperies you will require. Your aunt wishes to sponsor you. Her companion’s niece will also be there in the house for her first Season, so you will have company. The two ladies intend to bring you out together. They are even going to throw a ball and will not hear of any offers to reimburse them.”

  “But, Freddie, what is to become of Joey?” Kate asked. Since Papa’s death, her twelve-year old stepbrother was the only close family she had.

  “He will go to Eton, as he should have four years ago. I do not approve of spoiling the boy by hiring a tutor.”

  “But he will be terribly bullied! You know that, Cousin. That is why Papa hired a tutor. Anyone who is the least bit different suffers agonies in Public School.”

  “Perhaps that is what he needs to cure him of his stutter. He does not seem to make any effort.”

  “It is not a matter of making an effort! The harder he tries not to stutter, the worse it gets! He shall be miserable at Eton. Papa never intended for him to go there. He left plenty of money for a tutor. If you do not want him living here, I shall take him with me to London. We can hire a tutor there. I absolutely forbid you to send him to Eton.”