The Most Dangerous Duke in London

by Madeline Hunter

  At half past one, while writing letters, a rap on her door brought Jocelyn out of the dressing room to open it. Mrs. Finley stood on the threshold, flushed and a little breathless.

  “My apologies, milady, but a gentleman has called.” She handed Jocelyn a card. “A most distinguished gentleman. One of those important people you spoke of this morning. I’ve put him in the library.”

  Jocelyn closed the door and handed Clara the card with a bland expression, but her eyes sparkled.

  The card belonged to the Duke of Stratton.

  Without either of them saying a word, Jocelyn came over to fuss with her hair, then gave her dress a critical frown before nodding.

  As presentable as she could manage, Clara went down to the library. She found Stratton perusing the mostly empty bookcases. At the moment he was at the one that held the published copies of Parnassus. She trusted he had not removed any of them for a closer inspection, but if he had he would just assume she subscribed.

  He turned on hearing her step. Her heart rose on fluttering wings at the smile he gave her. “You need more books.”

  “The decorator recommended a shop where I can buy them by the yard. I thought it would be more fun to choose each one myself. It will take more time, but in a few years I will probably have most of the shelves full.”

  He came to her, bowed over her hand, and kissed it. “You neglected to repeat your command that I not visit, so here I am. Are you angry with me?”

  She could not say what she should say. He would know she lied. Worse, he would know her for a coward and a woman who did not know her own mind. “I am not angry. I am glad that you called.”

  “Come with me,” he said, still holding her hand and coaxing her to the doorway. “I must test my luck and hope this does not anger you either.”

  She followed him to the front entry. He opened it to reveal his horse tied out in front. Another horse stood beside it. A wonderful horse, as fine as Galahad and similar in build but darker in color. Almost black. It wore a sidesaddle.

  Stratton went down and gave the horse’s neck a firm stroke. “You can name him what you like. I have already arranged for his board and care at a stable in the nearby mews.”

  She stepped down and joined him to stand where the horse could see her and she him. “He is beautiful. I do not understand, however.”

  “He is yours. I found him for you. Women do not go to the auctions, so to get the best I had to do it. Do you like him?”

  “I adore him.” Oh, what a horse. He had gorgeous lines and an imperial gleam in his eyes. She petted his nose. The horse eyed her, taking her measure just as she took his. “What do I owe you for him?”

  “Nothing. He is a gift, of course.” Stratton sounded vaguely exasperated but appeared delighted with her reaction to the animal.

  A gift. A very valuable one. To accept would be compromising. To refuse outright would be insulting. “I must insist on buying him. I will do so when my trust next pays out.”

  “You are a stubborn woman. I went to great trouble to give you a gift, and now you are turning me into little more than your horsemonger.”

  “I appreciate the trouble. I do. I could have never found him myself. He is a wonderful surprise. However, I cannot accept a gift this valuable.”

  He sighed with annoyance. “I will have my steward inform your trustee of the amount. I am not going to take your money outright or willingly agree to this.”

  “Thank you. I must give him the perfect name and will put my mind to it.”

  “If you change into a habit, we can go for a ride in the park before it gets too crowded. You can contemplate his name while you ride him.”

  Her better sense said she should decline this ride. Her excitement over the horse silenced that voice in two seconds. “Come inside and wait while I dress properly. Only a short ride, however. I have many household duties today.”

  Twenty minutes later she sat in the saddle. The horse immediately tested her when they set out. He tried to trot before her signal. She reined him in firmly.

  Stratton missed none of it. “The auctioneer warned he needed a firm hand. He is spirited, and as you just saw, somewhat rebellious.”

  “I can manage him.”

  “I knew you could. The two of you have much in common and will find common ground quickly.”

  “Are you comparing me to a horse?”

  “Only in the best way.”

  “I suppose I do not mind too much. It could have been something else. Like a fish.”

  They made their way to the Strand and rode its length, maneuvering through the crush of carriages. She kept her attention on her horse, to ensure that the common ground they found was that which she chose.

  When they reached Mayfair, Stratton guided them onto the residential streets so they would not parade down Bond or Piccadilly. Finally they entered Hyde Park.

  “Have you chosen a name yet?” he asked.

  “He is opinionated, moody, and persistent. Perhaps I should call him Duke.”

  “I don’t know any dukes with those qualities.”

  “Don’t you? I do. The park is fairly empty, it is so early. Shall I give him his head? The poor thing is in agony at this pace.”

  “Absolutely. I will follow.”

  She brought her horse to a gallop quickly and aimed for the western area of the park. A few other riders exercised their mounts there, charging to and fro. She found a perfect rhythm and enjoyed the speed as much as her horse did.

  She pulled up and Stratton did beside her. “I have decided. Duke it will be. There is real nobility in him.”

  “Duke it is, although when I am with you it may not be clear whom you address.”

  “I will call you Stratton.”

  “I would prefer it be Adam.”

  It seemed a small thing, but she knew it was not. She doubted anyone except his mother called him Adam. This invitation to informality implied a continued and growing intimacy.

  She debated her answer. While she did, a horseman rode toward them, hailing Stratton. She squinted to see who it might be and recognized the horse, the coat, and the blond hair. Theo closed in fast.

  What bad luck.

  Theo reined in his horse and favored her with a huge smile. He all but glowed. Even while he greeted Stratton, his delight was all for her. She had not seen her brother this happy in months.

  Very bad luck.

  “What a fine mount you have there, Clara. One of yours, Stratton?”

  “He is mine,” Clara said. “I just got him. I did not want to impose on your generosity all the time.”

  “I would not have minded, although it would have been inconvenient for you to cross town for my stable.” Theo glanced slyly at Stratton to see what, if any, reaction that evoked. Since the duke did not appear the slightest bit confused, Theo must have concluded Stratton knew where she lived now. His blue eyes sparkled with satisfaction.

  Damnable, hellish luck.

  “I must return to my friends,” Theo said. “I will leave the two of you to entertain each other.” He pivoted his horse and rode back whence he had come.

  “You are not pleased he saw us,” Stratton said.

  “Not at all.”

  “You will have to tell them sometime.”

  “There is nothing to tell.”

  “Of course there is. Will the whole world know that before you do?” He turned his horse. “Let us go this way.”

  This way led into the depths of the park, far from the bridle and walking paths. No one would see them here and grin knowingly the way Theo had done.

  No one will see us here. She looked over at Stratton, thinking she should object. Only she did not want to. She hoped he was up to no good. A tightness in her breathing said as much. A disgraceful anticipation claimed her. She might be standing on a precipice, preparing to jump, hoping she would fly and not fall.

  He dismounted on an isolated patch of grass and tied his horse. He plucked her down from Duke and tied him as
well. Together they sat on the grass.

  “I would appreciate it if you did not tell anyone you tried to give me Duke as a gift,” she said. “It could be misunderstood as other than a gesture of friendship.”

  “Probably so, since I am not in the habit of giving mere friends horses. I am also unlikely to kiss them senseless, or caress their bodies, or—”

  “You know what I mean. I also think we could just all decide that whatever caused the break between our families is over and done and no longer important. So much anger when no one even knows what happened is ridiculous.”

  “I know what happened.”

  She turned in surprise. “You do? Lady Hollsworth said it was probably honor, a woman, or land.”

  “It was land. My father explained it all to me. Your father probably did the same with Theo, although I doubt he and I heard the same stories.”

  She waited. He watched the horizon, his fine profile tempting her to reach out and trace its line. Maybe she would let him remain silent and just spend the next half hour looking at him.

  Only she was curious. If this man was in her life now, she wanted to know why he had not been before.

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  He seemed to think about that. “It started with our grandfathers. There was a tract of land in the county that they disputed. An inheritance on your grandfather’s part, but my grandfather had an earlier claim.”

  “Or said he did.”

  She received a sharp look for that.

  “I am just reminding us both that there are two sides here. Two stories. Please, go on.”

  “It went into the courts, and as such things happen, nothing was resolved during their lifetimes. The lawyers got fat, the rents went into escrow, and nothing progressed.”

  “Is it still like that?”

  He shook his head. “Your father found a solution. While my father was in France, courting and marrying my mother, your father went to the courts again. He revived the dormant case and pressed for a judgment. Our solicitor was caught off guard by the fast movement. It was all done within one week. Needless to say, your father received the benefit of that judgment.”

  “I do not care for how you said all of this. Not for your choice of words, nor your tone. You have implied that my father was dishonorable.”

  “More that he was very shrewd.”

  “I am sure it was a coincidence that the courts addressed this right then.”

  “Clara, there are no coincidences in Chancery. The timing and the speed spoke of someone with strong influence pushing this forward.”

  “I still think that—oh!”

  He pulled her toward him and into an embrace. “Hush,” he murmured before kissing her.

  She allowed those kisses to vanquish her indignation. They removed any thoughts of old family wars from her mind. She could be very happy, she thought, being kissed for hours in the sweet breeze.

  That was not to be, however. He checked his building passion. For a long, quiet spell they sat there, entwined, not speaking. She ached, and wondered if he did too.

  “Is it your intention to always live alone?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Can you believe that no one has asked me that before? I am not sure I have even asked myself.” She did now, so she could try to answer. “My father remarried when I was a child. Since his new wife was not my mother, I may have noticed things I otherwise would not. The way she obeyed and deferred. The assumptions he made about his power over her and her property. I did not especially like her, but I still thought it unfair. I had more freedom than she did. I even had more of the real him than she did. He never taught her to shoot or took her hunting. Her place in his life was a very small one, it seemed to me.”

  “There are some couples who share more affection than you are describing.”

  “I do not know if they lacked affection. Perhaps they loved each other deeply. It made no difference. So I decided one day, when I heard her petitioning to visit a friend, like a child might beg a governess, and heard him deny her that small freedom—for no good reason, it seemed to me—I decided I would not live like that if I had the choice. And I did have the choice. Of all the privileges of my station, that has been the greatest one.”

  He gently stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “Was it also your intention to live like a nun? To deny yourself physical love? It is a part of your nature as surely as your ability to think and to know emotion.”

  “I never intended that. You are not the first man to kiss me. I have not lived like a nun.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her. “That is good to know.”

  Again those yearnings flowed, enough that she kissed him back with more aggression than she had used before. He turned hard and demanding in response.

  “This will never do,” he murmured between kisses that belied his words. “If we keep doing this in places like this, inevitably we will be seen.”

  She found the strength to press him away and create a gap between their bodies. His arms remained around her, however.

  He was right. They risked too much with these games. She risked everything.

  “Come with me to my house,” he said. “It is only a few streets away.”

  She wanted to agree to go. Every inch of her body did. But those streets were the most dangerous streets in her world. Dozens of people who lived on those streets knew her. Hundreds. She could not ride down one of them without being recognized. Nor could he. To then risk being seen entering his property, his home . . .

  “That will never do either,” she said. “You know it will not.”

  “In a few minutes I may know it. Right now I want you so badly I do not give a damn who sees what.”

  She had to laugh at that, ruefully. “I am not allowed to not give a damn.”

  He released her from his embrace but kept one arm around her. “I will find a way. When I do I intend to take my time, after the hell I am going through.”

  Take his time?

  He noticed her puzzlement. He crooked his arm around her neck and eased her head next to his. “Kissing you. Touching you. All of you. Your neck.” He kissed her neck. “Your breasts.” His hand skimmed over her breast, creating a jolt of pleasure. “Your thighs.” He caressed her thigh from knee to hip.

  He did not stop talking. He told her, in shocking detail, what else he would do. It was the kind of thing decent men never said to decent women. At least she did not think so. She would have stopped him except his words mesmerized her, and her simmering arousal threatened to become a conflagration.

  A deep silence heavy with sensual power followed his scandalous description.

  “We should ride back,” she said.

  “I can probably do so in another ten minutes.”

  It took her a moment to understand what he meant. Then she blushed hotly. He laughed.

  Society had arrived at the park by the time they rode back to the gate. People were busy with each other, and being seen, so she did not notice too many people paying attention to them.

  “I can ride home on my own,” she said. “Tell me which stable you arranged for me to use.”

  “I will not hear of it. I will escort you there.”

  She would have preferred he not do that. Now that she was riding again and no longer in his embrace, she could not rid herself of the feeling that she had been scandalous today. Deliciously so. Not because of the kisses but rather for having heard what he said, and how he said it, and allowing those faint touches and sensual provocations.

  At her house, he helped her dismount, then took her horse’s reins. “I will bring him to the stable. It is Cooper’s place, in the western mews.”

  “Thank you.”

  He bent to give her a kiss before returning to his saddle and leading Duke away. She watched him until he turned off the square.

  Before entering her house, she looked up the façade as if something invisible called for her attention. She cau
ght a flash of a white cap at a window before it disappeared. Jocelyn had been watching them. Or else Mrs. Finley had.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Clara sat at her library table with paper, ink, and pen. She tried to plan the next edition of Parnassus.

  It was not going well. Her mind dwelled elsewhere, not on the mix of essays and articles that might appeal to women readers.

  While she ate her dinner, a few hard truths had presented themselves. They demanded attention and contemplation, and since she could not remove them from her mind, she faced them squarely now.

  First, Theo had seen her with Stratton and drawn conclusions that were not warranted. She would be lucky not to find her grandmother placing an engagement announcement in the papers before the week was out.

  Second, while the two of them had not attracted much attention, they had been seen together. After spending time with each other at Brentworth’s party, rumors were bound to start.

  Third, she had learned the history of their families’ old feud, and in telling it Stratton had blamed her father far more than his. She thought that ungallant. If he had not kissed her, she would have pointed out how unfair his interpretation had been. Only he had, and once more caused her to forget too quickly why she was not supposed to like him or to accept his company and how those rumors of his seeking revenge might be true and might even touch on her family.

  Four—she sighed heavily when she admitted this—unless her astonishment led her to misunderstand, or unless Stratton spoke in poetic euphemisms, she had all but given him permission to do things to her that she had never realized men did to any women, least of all women like her.

  Finally—she sighed again, at her lack of good sense—she might have also allowed him to think she was agreeable to an affair. Which she was not. A kiss now and then was one thing. An affair would be too delicious—no, not delicious! Where had that word come from? Rash and dangerous, that was what it would be.

  She repeated those two words again in her mind. She focused on them. She pictured herself explaining that to him. Except he looked magnificent in her imagination, that little smile forming while she disabused him of that entire notion. Then he interrupted her with a kiss, and a hundred sparkles of excitement enlivened her in that fantasy. And in reality too, where she sat on the chair.