What a Devilish Duke Desires

by Vicky Dreiling

  Mrs. Norcliffe set her hand over her heart. “Mrs. Vernon, do you suppose Miss Longmore would consent to instruct adults in my drawing room?”

  “I imagine she would welcome the opportunity, if she is available.”

  “Do you have a means of contacting her? I would very much like to have her instruct in my drawing room on Tuesday next.”

  “I will send a servant round to her lodgings. I must warn you, I’ve already recommended her to several of my friends. I’m unsure about her availability, but I will inquire for you.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “I am obliged.”

  Mrs. Norcliffe’s spirits had risen substantially after calling on Mrs. Vernon. She was relieved that her nieces would have at least one practice session prior to the opening of Almack’s in a sennight. She would ask the other patronesses to help her spread the word to ensure her drawing room was a great squeeze during the practice session.

  Mrs. Norcliffe was more than a little concerned about the gossip over that drunken dance master. She knew it must have been bandied about in every drawing room in London. It was crucial for her to succeed with the new dance master. Of course, there was the unusual fact that the dance master was a woman, but Mrs. Vernon was trustworthy and without guile—unlike many others.

  Mrs. Norcliffe knew she carried enough influence to sway the opinions of other ladies of the ton. Over the years, she’d befriended all of the right ladies and gentlemen and made sure her drawing room was the most popular in all of London. If she sanctioned a female dance master, others would think it fashionable.

  The next evening

  Lucy was anxious that everything should be spotless and neat.

  She set out the teapot along with the cups, saucers, and spoons on the square table in the room that served as a parlor and dining room. She’d filled a kettle with water to set on the hob. The fire would provide light and warmth when the sun set.

  A floorboard squeaked as she walked to the window. The light was just beginning to fade. Then she turned to Grandmama. “Do you think he has changed his mind?”

  “No, I do not,” Grandmama said. “You are entirely too restless. Come help me darn the stockings.”

  “Grandmama, I will not darn stockings in his presence.”

  “For pity’s sake,” Grandmama said. “You can put it in the sewing basket when he arrives.”

  She sat on the sofa and immediately popped up. “I’ll add water to the roses.”

  Grandmama released a long sigh. “You are suffering from vexation.”

  “I can’t just sit and do nothing.” Lucy added a bit of water to the roses, smoothed the cover over the table, and set the vase in the center. Then she walked to the window again.

  “The shadows are longer now,” Lucy said.

  “You must be at the window again. Do you intend to advertise how eager you are for his presence?” Grandmama said.

  “I’m only eager to have done with him,” she said. “Oh dear, his carriage arrived. My nerves are on edge.”

  “He is the one obliged to apologize. You need only accept it.”

  Footsteps clipped outside their lodgings. A knock sounded.

  Lucy pinched her cheeks, moved the bolt, and opened the door.

  He stood there with his hat in his hand.

  “Please, come in,” Lucy said. Why was she a bundle of nerves? He was the one at fault.

  He bowed. “Thank you for receiving me.”

  Lucy took his hat and set it on the rosewood chest.

  Grandmama rose. “Your Grace, will you join us for tea?”

  “You are kind, but I do not wish to disturb you overly long.”

  “Please, be seated,” Grandmama said.

  He pulled out a chair for Grandmama and then for Lucy.

  “I’ll put the kettle on the hob,” Lucy said.

  His footsteps clipped on the wooden floor behind her. “The fire is burning a bit low,” he said. “May I offer my assistance?”

  “Certainly,” she said, stepping back.

  He took the poker and raked the coals. “It shouldn’t take long for the water to boil now.”

  They returned to the table, and once again, he pulled out the chair for her.

  When the kettle shrieked, Lucy retrieved it and poured water in the teapot. While they waited for the tea to steep, she said, “Why did you wait so long to tell us about your title?”

  “I realized if I revealed my identity right away, you would probably be shocked. I was caught between confessing immediately or waiting until afterward. I chose afterward because I wanted you to know me for who I am rather than the ducal trappings.”

  “You are uncomfortable with the title?” Grandmama said in a dubious tone.

  “I am proud of all that the title stands for, both the present and the future. Havenwood means a great deal to me, perhaps even more so now that my uncle is gone. But since inheriting, I’ve been besieged by sycophants and greedy matchmaking mamas. I can’t walk into my club without a group of insincere toadeaters surrounding me. A year ago, none of these people acknowledged my existence.

  “I never set out to deceive you, but I did a very poor job of enlightening you about my title. I made a grievous mistake. In hindsight, I ought to have told you immediately. If I had told you my feelings about the changes in my life as I’ve just described them, I could have avoided disgracing myself in your eyes. I beg your forgiveness, though I do not deserve it.”

  Lucy sighed. “You are not alone in making a mistake. I asked myself if I would have judged you as harshly if you had been part of the gentry rather than a duke. I realized that I was too severe because you are an aristocrat and that isn’t fair to you. After much soul-searching, I realized I would have been shocked to learn you are a duke, regardless of when you had told us. You were very kind to my grandmother and me that day. I’m sorry for cutting up at you.”

  “You had every right to be angry,” he said.

  “Shall we take our tea to the sofa where the light is better?” Lucy said.

  After they sat on the sofa, he raked the coals and joined them afterward.

  “How are your mother and cousins?” Mrs. Longmore asked.

  “They are all quite well. I recently dined with them on the occasion of my thirty-first birthday.”

  “I hope you had a nice celebration,” Lucy said.

  “Indeed, I received a gift from my mother. A silver saver for my manservant to bring my mail to me.”

  Lucy noticed mischief lurking in his eyes. “I suspect there is more to this story.”

  “You would be correct,” Granfield said. “As you might have guessed, I lack all toplofty ducal traits, much to my mother’s distress. However, I did not wish to disappoint her, so I thanked her profusely for the saver. About this time, I noticed that my faithful companion Bandit was slobbering over his bones on the new carpet. Since he had damaged one carpet already, I decided Bandit needed a receptacle for his bones. I cast my eye about and what did I see?”

  Lucy laughed. “The silver saver?”

  “You are correct,” he said.

  “You gave it to your dog?” Mrs. Longmore said in an astounded voice.

  “Oh yes. My valet Barlow, who is typically quite stoic, actually winced. For him this is akin to an attack of the vapors.”

  Grandmama’s lips twitched. “I marked you as a charmer and now I must add rogue as well.”

  “I rather hoped to elicit a chuckle from Barlow,” he said, “but thus far, I have failed in my endeavors to make the man laugh. Never fear. I am quite determined to elicit a chuckle from him.”

  “You are awful,” Lucy said, smiling.

  “You will not be surprised to learn I was especially mischievous as a boy. My friend Colin and I spent every summer at Havenwood. We bathed in mud, tried to ride Uncle Hugh’s pigs, and stole biscuits from the kitchen. My uncle Hugh taught us to fish and ride, but when we were naughty, he made us muck out the pigpens. There are reasons I don’t eat bacon.”


  Lucy’s shoulders shook with laughter. She set her dish of tea aside. “Did you meet your friend Colin at school?”

  “Yes, at Eton when I was eight years old. We’re practically brothers. I recently learned he will be a father soon. It’s hard to believe.”

  Grandmama sat up with a start. “Oh my, I beg your pardon. I must have dozed off.”

  Granfield rose. “I do beg your pardon,” he said. “I did not mean to overstay my welcome. If you wish, I will bank the fire for you.”

  “Thank you,” Grandmama said. “You need not rush. If you will excuse me, I will retire now. Lucy, be sure to secure the bolt when Granfield departs.”

  “I will, Grandmama.”

  He took off his coat and went to tend the fire. His wide shoulders needed no padding. When he rose and dusted his hands, she noted his superior height once again. In his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, she could discern the way his waist tapered.

  He joined her on the sofa and laid his arm across the top of it. “Tired?” he asked.

  “No.” She was too aware of him. In the shadowy room, she could not see his bright blue eyes, but the soft sound of his breathing mingled with hers. The tension between them crackled all around her. A long moment suspended. Her senses were heightened, and her breasts felt heavier for some odd reason. She discerned the scent of wintergreen soap and something else—something masculine and irresistible. Something unique to him.

  He leaned closer, and she could feel the whisper of his breath on her lips. “From the first moment we met, I could not get you out of my head.”

  His words made her feel giddy, but she held back, because she was still a little wary. “I am undoubtedly the first woman to threaten you with a knife.”

  He grinned. “Indeed you are. Now that you are unarmed, perhaps we could be friends.”

  “We will shake on it,” she said, offering her hand.

  He took her hand and turned her wrist, palm up. He looked up at her beneath his dark lashes, and then he kissed the tender underside of her wrist. When he touched his tongue to the pulse point, her breath shuddered out of her. She thought she might melt from the heat in his seductive gaze.

  “I’d better go,” he said. There was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he was aware of exactly how he’d affected her.

  When she inhaled on a shaky breath, he helped her to rise. She walked with him to the door as if she were enveloped in a fog.

  He halted and gazed into her eyes. Then he drew her in his arms and kissed her gently on the lips. His mouth moved over hers and his hand slipped down the curve of her spine. Heat and longing surged inside her. He wrapped his arms around her, and she could feel the hard, unyielding muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs as he pressed her against him.

  “Forgive me in advance,” he said.

  “For what?” she whispered.

  He kissed her gently once more, and then he drew his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Her lips parted and then his tongue was in her mouth, tasting her while his hands slid down her spine and to her bottom. He pulled her flush against him, and she could feel his hard body. She was breathing faster and everything inside of her was on fire for him. God help her, she wanted his hands all over her.

  He broke the kiss, and she was aware that his breathing had quickened as well.

  When he released her, he said, “Good night, sweet Lucy.”

  Her limbs trembled a little as he strode out into the night, leaving her to wonder if he knew it was her first kiss.

  Chapter Seven

  Wednesday afternoon, one week later

  Harry spent much of the day in dull meetings with his solicitor. When he arrived home, he intended to deal with more paperwork, but he discovered four missives from his mother.

  He opened the first one and sighed.

  Dearest son,

  As you are undoubtedly aware Almack’s opens for the season tonight. Bring your new carriage at precisely nine o’clock. I expect you to be sober and do not dally.

  Yours etc.

  Mrs. Norcliffe

  He snorted. “That’s unlikely,” he muttered, and opened the next one.

  Harry, I await your answer. Please be prompt in your reply.

  Yours, etc.

  Mrs. Norcliffe

  Mrs. Norcliffe was well known for her imperious demands, but he’d long ago learned it was best to ignore her when she got a bee in her bonnet. Harry set it aside and broke the seal on the last one.

  Harry, I am not amused! Send your answer now!

  Yours, etc.

  Mrs. Norcliffe

  No one, including his meddling mother, ordered him about.

  Harry took out a sheet of paper and dipped his pen in the inkwell.

  Dear Mama,

  I regret that I am unable to escort you to Almack’s this evening, as I have a previous engagement. Do enjoy the festivities. May I recommend the watered down lemonade, stale bread, and dry cake?

  Your disobedient son

  Granfield

  Harry sanded the missive and sealed it with wax. Then he rang the bell. Barlow covered a yawn and trudged into the parlor.

  “Barlow, please deliver this missive to Mrs. Norcliffe’s town house in Grosvenor Square.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Shall I wait for a reply?”

  “Certainly not. It will only result in additional trips to my mother’s abode.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Harry decided his mother needed a lesson in patience. “Barlow, do take the scenic route to Grosvenor Square. Be sure to admire the budding leaves and wildflowers.”

  Barlow, to his credit, did not blink an eye. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “After you deliver the message, you may take an impromptu holiday. You will have earned it from all the exercise today.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I shall take advantage of your offer.”

  Harry considered taking Bandit to the park in hopes of seeing Lucy, but he really needed to attend to his correspondence. He supposed he’d better hire a secretary soon, as he’d begun to fall behind on the paperwork. That meant he’d have to interview candidates, and when would he find time for that?

  Bandit’s nails clicked on the marble. He trotted over to Harry with a bone in his mouth and dropped it on the floor. Harry grinned. “For me? Why thank you, Bandit, but I find bones don’t agree with my digestion.”

  Bandit lay down on the cool marble and chewed his bone.

  A rap sounded at the door. Harry had half a mind to ignore it, as he was certain his mother had sent another blasted missive. With a gusty sigh, he strode to the door and opened it. “Bell, come in.”

  His friend hung his hat and greatcoat on the pegs in the foyer.

  “Have a seat,” Harry said.

  Bell stretched out his legs and surveyed the parlor. “You’ve spruced the place up.”

  “Maid service, mostly for the copious dog hair. Speaking of service, I’m in the market for a secretary. Know of anyone?”

  “I’ll ask my secretary for a recommendation.”

  “Brandy?” Harry said.

  “Hell, yes. Have you got a cheroot?”

  He opened a silver case and offered one to his friend. They lit them from the lantern on his desk.

  Bell inhaled and blew out a smoke ring. “It’s been too long since I’ve had one.”

  “Why?” Harry said.

  Bell looked chagrinned. “Laura threatened to kick me out of bed if I ever came in stinking of smoke again.”

  Harry guffawed. “Tell her I blew smoke on you.”

  “She won’t believe it.”

  Harry flicked an ash in a tray. “I suspect you’re here for a reason.”

  Bell nodded. “According to Laura, something is in the wind. Apparently there has been quite a bit of speculation about the opening of Almack’s tonight. The patronesses have planned something unusual.”

  Harry sipped his brandy. “What can that have to do with me? It’s not as if I’m planning to attend.” />
  Bell inhaled and blew out a smoke ring. “You might wish to reconsider.”

  “Why?”

  “This may come as a shock, but your mother is one of the patronesses now.”

  Harry scowled. “Surely not.”

  “Sorry, old boy. Laura confirmed it. I thought you ought to know.”

  “No wonder my mother kept sending me messages to escort her tonight. I intended to ignore her.”

  “Old boy, you might want to be on hand. Something is definitely afoot.”

  Wednesday, early evening

  Lucy returned home to eat a quick dinner with Grandmama before reporting for her duties at Almack’s.

  “I hope you will have a chance to watch the dancers,” Grandmama said.

  “I’m not counting on it,” Lucy said. The wages were low, but she figured every coin she saved would go toward her dance studio fund.

  “Speaking of dancing, that servant came again today,” Grandmama said.

  Lucy frowned. “Which one?”

  “The one who works for Mrs. Norcliffe. She’s quite demanding and insists upon you instructing dance at her home in Grosvenor Square next week on Tuesday at ten o’clock. I told her servant he would have to return on the morrow for your answer.”

  Lucy sighed. “Tell him I will instruct for Mrs. Norcliffe next week.”

  “Dearest, you’re teaching dance to Mrs. Vernon’s girls and the Chaffin twins as well this week. Every day you are cleaning at the Albany. I worry you will fall ill.”

  “I’m perfectly fine, Grandmama. I must take advantage of as many opportunities as possible during the spring season. When the ton retreats later in the year, requests for my dancing instruction will diminish. It’s important that I work as hard as possible now to ensure we have plenty of money saved.” She finished her tea. “Now I must hurry,” she said, donning her cloak. “I can’t be late my first night at Almack’s.”

  “Good luck,” Grandmama said. “Please be careful while walking home.”