Dismissing the Duke

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  Esther shook her head of any fanciful thoughts. That smuggler girl had quality relations and came from a good family. Not that Timothy didn’t come from a good family…

  Actually, she didn’t know a thing about his family, other than his brother Jimmy. Where were their parents? Were they close? And what did they do? Jimmy wasn’t in service—was it possible their parents were landed gentry, perhaps? Surely that would pass muster with the powers that be.

  Esther decided in that moment that perhaps she ought to get to know the man she was about to embark upon a clandestine affair with.

  Now that Gabriel was safely out of sight, she darted into the stable in search of her paramour.

  Paramour. That word made her want to giggle. Who would have thought that she, Esther Whitton, the most sensible daughter of David and Alycia Whitton, would have a paramour? It was simply ludicrous, and yet…

  “What has you giggling, Miss Whitton?” came a gravelly voice in her ear as a pair of arms snaked around her stomach.

  His touch immediately sent shockwaves through her body—or, more specifically, to her most private of places. Heavens.

  She whirled around in his arms until their bodies were pressed together and she was staring up into his shining hazel eyes. She was going to lose herself to this man, one way or another. It seemed she may have already lost her heart. It was preposterous, really, when one thought about it. She hardly knew him, and yet she felt as if she’d known him her entire life.

  “Whatever it was,” she finally answered, breathless, “it isn’t important.”

  Lord above, he was handsome. She’d never imagined herself with such a fair man, seeing as her own features were rather dark. But here she was, lusting after this man with his silky blond hair and pale eyes. Like an angel—perhaps a fallen one, for she was certain a proper angel wouldn’t be staring at her like that. Or touching her waist with such familiarity. Or kissing her with such unbridled passion.

  Goodness, when had his lips touched hers? It felt as if they were meant to be doing this, always. His mouth explored hers, prying her lips apart. And then his tongue found its way to hers. She mimicked him in a twisty, tangled dance that made her breasts ache and moisture pool beneath her skirts.

  And then, remembering her mission, she pulled away. But she couldn’t speak—not yet, anyway, for she was completely out of breath.

  “Are you having doubts?” he asked, his eyes clouding with concern.

  Never. “No,” she replied. “It’s just that, I’ve realized I know nothing about you.”

  He could have been perturbed by this statement—he might have even sent her on her way if he were another man. But he wasn’t. He was Timothy. And a wide smile spread his lips just before he claimed hers again. It wasn’t a long kiss this time, but it was everything to Esther.

  “What if we went for a walk?” he suggested, much to her surprise.

  “But I thought…”

  Timothy pressed a finger to her lips. It was softer than she’d expected, but then again, he worked with Gabriel’s clothes every day, and it wouldn’t do to have snags in the fabric on account of his valet having rough hands. “It can wait,” he said gently. “But I’d like to get to know you too.”

  “You would?” She stared up at him, unable to tear herself away from those shimmering hazel eyes.

  “Don’t be surprised,” he said with a wink that made her feel all warm and tingly inside.

  “It’s raining,” she pointed out, deciding not to mention how improper it would be for the two of them to go walking together.

  He glanced over his shoulder to the open door. “That it is. Then we shall stay here, as planned. But I promise I won’t lay a hand on you…unless, of course, you want me to.”

  Heavens. He was flirting with her, and making every bone in her body ache to be near him. If he didn’t touch her, she might explode.

  They walked together to the very last stall of the stables. It was blessedly unoccupied, and bales of hay lined the outer edges. Timothy led her to the far corner and gestured for her to sit as he did so himself.

  “Well, go on,” he said, propping his feet up on an adjacent bale of hay and crossing his arms across his chest. “What is it you’d like to know about me?”

  Esther swallowed over the lust that was rising in her body, screaming at her to climb on top of him and…and…well, she wasn’t quite sure what it was she wanted to do to him, she just knew she wanted to be near him. Feel him. Press her body—

  “Esther?”

  “Erm, your parents,” she blurted out, realizing she’d apparently been silent for too long. Then she cleared her throat, and went on, “Who are they? Where do they live? What do they do?” He twisted his handsome face into a grimace, and Esther immediately felt like a dolt. “Botheration,” she muttered. “They aren’t alive, are they?”

  “’fraid not,” Timothy replied. “Lost at sea.”

  The mere thought gripped Esther’s heart. How many friends and family members had she said goodbye to at the docks? To think they might never return home… “I am deeply sorry for your loss,” she said.

  He gave her a half smile. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. Jimmy practically raised me from the time I was ten, and he was thirteen.”

  “Didn’t you have any relations that could care for you?”

  “An uncle, actually. The one who left Jimmy all his money. But he was a curmudgeonly old miser, so didn’t care much for having children in his home. We were to stay out of the way and remain unheard.”

  “Not a very fun childhood,” Esther said, though she had always followed those rules herself. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. She never wanted to be a burden to Mama and Papa, or cause undue stress in their lives. They had plenty of it with Gabriel and Leah, anyway.

  Timothy shrugged. “It was only for five years, and then Jimmy found work that brought us here, and I, too, sought out work in Service.”

  “And you like it?” she pressed. He glanced down at the ground, and his cheeks turned a slight pink. “You needn’t be embarrassed. There is no shame in hard work. I, myself, think I might be more fulfilled doing something with my life.”

  “Oh, but you’re rather busy already, aren’t you? And once you reach London, you’ll be even busier.”

  Something in his eyes spoke of sadness, disappointment. “Does that bother you?” she dared to ask.

  His hazel gaze met hers, sending a frisson down her spine. “What if I said it did?” His voice was a low growl that rumbled over her, shaking her to her core.

  Then I would never, ever be busy again. She, of course, kept that thought to herself, for she didn’t want to appear to be too eager. However, he would surely pick up on her eagerness when she threw herself across the bales of hay into his arms.

  She thudded into him, forcing the air from his lungs for a moment, but then he snaked his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. There was an urgency today—perhaps a fear of getting caught, or maybe just a desperation to explore one another more, to be near to him and ease the ache she felt somewhere deep down in her belly. His tongue darted in and out of her mouth, teasing her, taunting her. She put her legs on either side of him and then pressed herself into the bulge beneath his trousers. Good God in Heaven, that was the most wonderful thing she’d ever felt in her entire life.

  Esther knew she’d completely lost all her good sense, but she didn’t care. Not when his hands were caressing her back like that, not when his member was pressed into her mound, not when his mouth was making its way down her neck toward her aching breasts. Would he do it? Would he pull down the small strip of fabric that currently hid her throbbing nipples?

  “Oh, Lud!” she cried when he finally did. The dusky tip was exposed to the cold air for only a moment before his mouth covered it in warmth and wetness.

  “Shhh,” he admonished only briefly in between licks.

  Of course. But she was completely losing her mind. How could he expect her t
o keep quiet under such circumstances?

  She tried to relax—to give in to the play of his tongue on a place she never imagined a man’s tongue would be. Slowly, she pressed herself further into him, moving back and forth, up and down, trying to reach for something that she couldn’t quite explain.

  The rain beat loudly onto the roof, periodic gusts of wind would bring a mist through the open windows, cooling her face, but doing little to put out the fire that burned inside of her.

  And then Timothy freed her other breast, replacing his mouth with his hands, his fingers tweaking and rolling her nipples as he claimed her lips again. It was this further onslaught to her senses that started to push her to the edge, but when he began to buck beneath her, pressing himself even harder and faster against her mound, that she actually fell over the precipice.

  His lips never left hers, muffling her cries of ecstasy, as she exploded from the inside out.

  Chapter 7

  Timothy pulled away, but not too far, a smile on his lips despite the considerable pain in his trousers. Bloody hell, he needed his own release, but what the devil was he supposed to do? He wanted to allow Esther an opportunity to savor this sweet, sweet moment, and yet, if he didn’t do something about his situation soon, he’d be in a great deal of pain for the next couple of days.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, attempting to put her off of him so he could stand up.

  Her angelic face, which had been so happy and content a moment earlier, shifted to concern. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Of course, it’s just…” Damn. How was he supposed to explain this to her? “I need a moment to…to do for myself what I just did for you. I’m afraid time is of the essence.”

  “But why can’t I help?”

  Damn it all to hell. She was so bloody innocent, and somehow that made him even more desperate for what she was offering. Not that she even knew what she was offering.

  “No,” he said gruffly, hating himself for rejecting her offer. “You’re a proper lady, I’ll not—”

  She grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him close. “I’m sick of being a proper lady,” she admitted through gritted teeth.

  He stared at her, deep into her fathomless dark eyes, his breath coming in short, sporadic bursts as he tried to hold himself in check. “You’ve nothing to prove with me.”

  Esther gentled. “I know. But I want to…help.” Then she batted her long, black lashes at him, and said, “Show me what to do.”

  Timothy needed no more convincing. If she wanted to help, who was he to stand in her way? He grabbed her hand and put it beneath his trousers. She sucked in a breath—not of surprise or fear, as he’d expected, but of lust. Damn, but this proper lady was hungry for something decidedly unproper.

  “Oh, dear God,” he groaned as her small, dainty hand wrapped around his member. She was so soft, so perfect. He could only imagine what she felt like elsewhere.

  She was tentative at first, looking up at him for approval. But Timothy was lost to the pleasure of it all, and it took only a few gentle strokes before he was spilling his seed against the fabric of his trousers. He shook and groaned and let it all wash over him. When he finally caught his breath, he opened his eyes to find Esther staring up at him, blinking over and over.

  “Did I do it right?” she asked, but there was a mischievous smile on her pretty, pink lips.

  “You know damn well you did it perfectly,” he said as he collapsed to the hay beside her. “You’re sure you haven’t done that before?”

  Esther gasped and shot upright. “Of course I haven’t!” she shouted, and then, catching sight of his equally mischievous smile, smacked him on the chest. “You’re teasing me!”

  He was about to lean over and kiss her again, for he could kiss her all damn day, when the sound of hooves set his heart to racing all over again. Bloody hell, Gabriel must be back. But why so soon? He was supposed to be at The Lyon’s Den with Jimmy this afternoon, which was why he’d set up this little rendezvous with Esther.

  Timothy turned to look at her. Her eyes were wide and filled with panic. She lay frozen in terror. It almost made Timothy laugh, but instead, he grabbed her hand. Once he had her attention, he put a finger to his lips, indicating it would all be fine if they stayed quiet.

  To be truthful, it was the most excruciating ten minutes of his life. Gabriel was taking his time with his new gelding. Not that Timothy could blame him. Cinnamon was a beautiful animal with a gentle spirit—a horse like no other. Of course, his coloring was quite rare, as well—a deep chestnut with a flaxen mane. One didn’t come across such a horse every day, so it was no surprise that Gabriel had paid quite a bit for him. Though he probably would have paid more, knowing how very in love with him Sara Beth was.

  Timothy lay quietly next to Esther, hand-in-hand, both of them barely breathing, which was quite a feat after their activities. And while it was nice to lay next to her, he wished desperately to hold her, to kiss her. To find out what the devil she was thinking after her first time doing…that.

  At long last Cinnamon whinnied his goodbye to his master and Gabriel’s determined footsteps retreated from the mews. Both Timothy and Esther let out long breaths, but still just lay there, staring up at the rustic roof of the stable.

  “Are you all right?” he finally ventured, praying she was. It was, perhaps, not the best place to have one’s first intimate encounter. He hoped she didn’t regret it.

  A little giggle broke the silence, and he dared to look at her. She lay there, her dark hair splayed over the hay, an elated smile on her lips as she laughed up at the roof.

  Timothy turned on his side and came up to his elbow. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  That tickled her even further, and she laughed as she rolled to her side to face him, resting her head on her arm so she was gazing up at him. “It’s a definitive yes, Hargood,” she said. “Very, very good.”

  “Well, Miss Whitton, it’s a good thing I’m coming to London with you, for now that I’ve unleashed this hedonistic side, I will have to ensure you stay out of trouble.”

  She sobered and propped her head in her hand, so they were face-to-face now. “I want you to know…that is, I do not wish…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as if bracing herself to deliver difficult news. Timothy prayed to God she wasn’t going to write him off already. “I wish only to get into trouble with one person,” she finished, and then tentatively opened her eyes.

  Timothy couldn’t stop the smile or the giddiness he felt in his heart. He hadn’t scared her away. Even better, she seemed devoted to him. Lord only knew what London would bring—or the future in general. They were as star-crossed as Romeo and Juliet. Her parents may not approve, Danby certainly wouldn’t approve. The question was—would she care?

  He used his free hand to pull her towards him and pressed his lips against hers again, an attempt to seal their fate, if such a thing were possible.

  “The rain has slowed,” he said, pulling away from the kiss but caressing her cheek with his thumb. He wanted to stay here forever, but he knew they couldn’t, so he studied her face, praying he’d never forget how beautiful she looked in that moment. “You’d better go.”

  She didn’t argue with him, but she did lean in for last quick kiss before she rolled off the hay bale and stood to her feet. Timothy helped her remove the hay from her hair and dress, and then, after making certain the coast was clear, he sent her on her way.

  He stayed behind, of course, allowing her time to get back to her bedchamber before he emerged from the stall. He took a moment to say hello to Cinnamon on the way out, then emerged into the rain, and ran smack into a large wall. A wall that wasn’t supposed to be there. And that gave a little oomph upon contact.

  Squinting into the mist, he glanced up at what wasn’t a wall at all, but rather the Duke of Danby himself.

  “Your Grace!” Timothy said, backing away and bowing awkwardly at the same time.

  “Hargo
od,” he intoned. “I want to meet Cinnamon. That’s all Gabriel’s been talking about, so I thought to inspect the beast myself.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Timothy stepped aside and gestured toward the open door of the mews.

  “Take me to him.”

  It was in that moment that Timothy realized the front of his trousers were still sopping wet. With any luck, the old man would think he’d soiled himself, for if he began to question what really happened…

  Sweat broke out on Timothy’s brow. He had to keep himself hidden. He turned back toward the stables, leading the way, and when they arrived at Cinnamon’s stall, he pressed himself against the door, attempting to remain as casual as he could.

  “Ah, a beautiful beast, indeed,” Danby breathed, staring at the gelding with a reverent eye. “A rare find, and a silly name, but who am I to argue with Sara Beth? She was quite set on it.”

  “I rather think it suits him, though,” Timothy offered. “And he doesn’t seem to mind that it’s silly one bit.”

  Danby gave a little huff of amusement, his eyes still trained on the horse. “I hear you’ll be leaving Yorkshire for Town soon,” he said.

  Timothy cleared his throat. “Yes, Your Grace. I’ve been asked to accompany Mr. Whitton during the Season.”

  The old man turned to face him, but Timothy remained awkwardly pressed against the stall door. “London has many amusements, Hargood. I do hope you’ll take advantage of them.”

  “If Mister Whitton’s schedule allows, of course.”

  “Of course.” The duke narrowed his crystal blue eyes on him, and Timothy thought he might like to crawl into a deep hole and never come out. Bloody hell, how close had they come to being caught by the duke himself? Mere minutes had separated them both from complete ruin. Not that Timothy had as much to lose as Esther, but even so… “Do be careful, my boy,” he said, after an interminable pause. “One could become embroiled in any number of pursuits in London.”

  As Timothy stood there, dumbfounded and confused, the duke turned his attention briefly back to Cinnamon for one last admiring moment, and then stalked out of the stable. Timothy’s heart raced and his brow began to sweat again. Did he know? Was this supposed to be a warning against pursuing his great-niece? Surely if he knew what they’d been up to, he wouldn’t approve. But would he be so subtle about it? Or did he warn everyone against the dangers of London? It was a most peculiar conversation, but Timothy didn’t have much time to sort it out right now. Gabriel would be needing him, and there was still much to do before they departed for London in two days. Whatever the duke meant, Timothy would have to put it from his mind for now.