What a Devilish Duke Desires

by Vicky Dreiling

  “We’re fogging up the windows,” he said, laughing.

  “Oh, dear Lord,” she said. It was so good to hear his laughter and see his beautiful blue eyes.

  He framed her face with his big hands, and then he stripped off his gloves. He trailed kisses from her lips to her jaw and down to her neckline. She inhaled on a ragged breath as he drew his tongue along the inner seam of her bodice. Her nipples tightened as he cupped her breasts, and it felt sinful, but she couldn’t resist him. He kissed her again with more intention, and she dared to touch her tongue to his. He pulled her onto his lap, and she felt his hands tugging on her upper back. Then a shock of cool air hit her flesh. His breathing was faster as he lowered her puffed sleeves, trapping her arms and exposing her breasts. “Oh my God, you’re beautiful.”

  She should stop him. She meant to tell him that they mustn’t. She knew it was forbidden, but when he took her nipple in his mouth, a strange high-pitched sound came out of her throat. When he switched to her other breast, she squeezed her legs together and a spurt of pleasure sizzled through her.

  “Oh yes, I love that you’re so responsive to my touch.”

  After he broke the kiss, they were both breathing harder.

  “What are you thinking?” he said, cupping her cheek.

  Her face heated.

  “Lucy?”

  She took a deep breath and kissed him quickly, but he caught her in his arms again. “You’re my captive now, and I will never let you go.”

  “I beg to differ, sir. This captive intends to escape the moment the carriage stops.”

  “Drat. Where are my manacles when I need them?”

  She laughed. “You amuse me, Harry.”

  “I like the sound of my name on your lips.” He angled his head and gave her another long, deep kiss. “I missed you,” he said. “I feared I might never see you again.”

  She framed his face with her hands. “I swore to give you up, but I couldn’t.”

  “I will never give up on us,” he said. “Never.”

  “I was scared,” she said.

  “I know, but don’t be afraid.”

  When the carriage halted, he helped her on the steps. They walked to their bench and sat next to each other.

  “Being here reminds me of that first time we met in the park,” she said. “I was determined to resist you, but you managed to charm me. When we met again, I let down my guard. Then I discovered that it wasn’t mere wealth separating us.”

  “I knew you were a gentleman’s daughter the first time I heard your voice.”

  Her eyes held a fierce expression. “My mother was born a lady, but my father was a younger son and owned no land. Even if he had, he would not have deserved the title of gentleman.”

  “What happened to your family?”

  “My mother died, and Grandmama lost her sight.” She took in a shaky breath. “I thought my father would take care of us.” Her mouth thinned. “Instead, he turned to the bottle for comfort. When the money dried up, he started selling our possessions: crockery, shoe buckles, a clock, anything he could find. It was clear to me he would sell off everything we had. I hid my mother’s pearls, because I couldn’t bear for him to sell them. He was furious when he couldn’t find them. I trembled the whole time he shouted and cursed. Two days later, he was drunk when he fell off his horse and broke his neck.”

  Harry reached over and squeezed her hand. She must have been terrified.

  “There was very little money. I had no choice but to leave the only home I’d ever known. I had to find employment. So I hired a man to bring us and our possessions to London.”

  “I’m glad you have the pearls,” he said.

  She fisted her hands in her lap. “I lost my position as a seamstress, and the dance master I formerly worked for shorted my wages. I took the pearls to a pawnshop on Petticoat Lane. I had to pay the rent.”

  He winced. I’m sorry, sweet Lucy.” He drew her into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m not. Those pearls kept a roof over our heads.”

  “Are there no other family members besides your grandmother?”

  She hesitated. “None that I’ve met.”

  He frowned. “Who are they?”

  She said nothing.

  “Lucy, do you know who they are?”

  She nodded. “My mother’s maiden name was Forbes.”

  His eyes narrowed. Then it hit him. “As in the Earl of Wargrove?”

  Her mouth thinned. “Yes.”

  He took her by the shoulders. “My God, your grandfather is an earl, and you are working as a servant?”

  “He disowned my mother.”

  His eyes blazed. “Why?”

  “She eloped with my father to Gretna Green when she was nineteen.”

  “Have you tried to contact Wargrove?”

  “No,” she said, her voice sharp. “After my mother died, I found a returned letter written in her hand. It was addressed to Wargrove. The seal was unbroken. He’d never bothered to read it.” She turned her face away because the memory still held the power to wound her.

  “After so many years, you may find matters have changed with your mother’s family.”

  Loathing was written all over her face. “I want nothing to do with Wargrove or any of his kin,” she said heatedly. “He was cruel to refuse my mother’s letter.”

  Harry frowned. “How did your mother meet your father?”

  “My father was Wargrove’s secretary. I’ve no idea how they contrived to elope. Afterward, my parents moved to Westbury, but many in the village never accepted her.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “For the same reason you knew I was educated.”

  “Her cultured manner of speaking,” he said.

  “When I was younger, I did not understand. One day I overheard two women gossiping after church. I was twelve or thereabouts when Mrs. Rhodes said my mother put on airs. It wasn’t true. Many in the village didn’t like her because she wasn’t one of them.”

  “Ignorant people,” he said in a harsh tone.

  Lucy could still picture her mother’s determined smile when she confessed that she had been an earl’s daughter and left it all behind to marry Lucy’s papa. “I asked my mother about her family, but she only looked sad and said they lived far away.

  “Matters changed as I got older. A new assembly hall was erected in town. My mother knew all the dances because a dance master had taught her. She offered to teach anyone wishing to learn. There were many who refused to acknowledge my mother, but the younger men and women were keen on learning the etiquette and steps. I helped teach the younger children.”

  “I wondered where you’d learned to dance.”

  “When we arrived in London, I found an advertisement for a dance assistant. Mr. Buckley made me do all the work and often shorted my wages, but it was a job I desperately needed. Then I found work as a seamstress and afterward a steady job at the Albany. I left the dance master weeks ago and am encouraged that I am gaining clients. You know the rest.”

  “If you will let me, I can help.”

  “I know you mean well,” she said, “but I’ve proven myself more than capable of making my own way in the world. It wasn’t a choice, but it has made me stronger.”

  He drew her into his arms again. “Let me be strong for you.”

  He didn’t understand that she mustn’t rely on anyone but herself. She’d learned that lesson well when her father had abdicated his parental duties for the bottle. “You are an aristocrat, and I am a maid. A furtive meeting in the park or your carriage is all we have.”

  “It is not impossible,” he said.

  “It is not advisable, either.”

  “Plenty of my mother’s friends have observed your talent in dance instruction. They have also marked your refined speech and manners.”

  “They also know I receive compensation for my dance instruction. I know that is unacceptable to the ton. I’m not one of them, and I
never will be.”

  “Your grandfather is an earl,” he said.

  She inhaled sharply. “If you believe that I would welcome Wargrove after he disowned my mother, you are wrong,” she said, her voice trembling with ire. “Harry, you know this isn’t just about us. It’s also about your family. Your mother will wish to find husbands for your cousins. If you were to marry a woman beneath you, it might affect your cousins’ chances of making a good marriage.”

  “I don’t believe that for an instant. Frankly, I don’t care if you’re a chimney sweep’s daughter. I care about you. I don’t give a damn about society. I don’t give a damn what my mother thinks, and I certainly do not give a damn about the patronesses at Almack’s.”

  “Will you deny that Almack’s means a great deal to Mrs. Norcliffe? Would she not suffer embarrassment?”

  “I berated my mother for her rude treatment of you. She retained you to teach a dance lesson and made rude comments. Believe me, she deserved my condemnation,” he said, his voice rising.

  Quite likely his rebuke had resulted in the opposite effect he’d intended.

  “If you had not known me, would you have rebuked your mother?”

  “Yes, because it is in poor taste to abuse those in one’s employ.”

  “The point is I will never be welcome in your world.”

  “I disagree. Your manners clearly proclaim you are a lady. I knew it the first time we met.”

  “Harry, if you are seeking a lady of high birth, you had better look elsewhere. Wargrove never recognized my mother’s marriage.”

  “Lucy, I don’t care about rank,” he said in exasperation. “I care about you, and I will not give up on us.”

  “Your peers, your cousins, your friends, and, yes, the patronesses have all seen me serving at Almack’s. I am a servant and a dance instructor. That is all I’ll ever be to the ton.”

  “I’m a duke, and that makes a world of difference.”

  A bitter laugh escaped her. “Your mother would never accept me. If we were foolish enough to get engaged, it would set off a scandal, one that would have negative consequences for your family. My mother suffered for having married beneath her station. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

  “You worry for nothing. My influence counts for a great deal.”

  “Yes, but you must also consider your cousins. If you were to court a woman beneath you, especially a servant, it might well dampen their marriage prospects. Their beaux would question how it would affect their families. I can’t do that to you and your family, Harry. I can’t—”

  “There have been plenty of ordinary people, like Brummel, who moved among society without a problem.”

  “They are men, and they are the exceptions.”

  “We can be the exceptions,” he said. “I know we can do this.”

  “Your family, your friends, and society all expect you to marry a wealthy lady of noble birth,” she said, her voice rising. “No one will ever question her pedigree. You are your mother’s only son, and you have inherited a grand title and property. You need a wife who knows the intricacies of the ton. That would be someone who understands and is accepted in your world.”

  “Lucy, I’m a duke. I can and, if necessary, I will defy the ton.”

  “At what cost, Harry? If you were foolish enough to marry someone beneath you, it would affect every aspect of your life, including your political career and your acquaintances. Your friends would be uncomfortable, and so would you when the invitations stopped coming because you married a maid. No one in the ton would accept such a marriage. I won’t be the instrument of unhappiness for your family. I can’t do that to you.”

  “From the first words I heard you utter, I knew you were not what you appeared to be,” he said. “Your grandfather is an earl,” he said. “That changes everything, Lucy.”

  She reared back. “Do you think that I will go to them and beg to be acknowledged?” she said her voice rising. “I won’t do it, Harry. I might have considered corresponding with them before I saw the returned letter, but I won’t do it now.”

  “To me you are a lady, regardless of whether you recognize Wargrove or not, and, Lucy, I think you should make contact.”

  “Why?” she said. “So that it will pave the way for me to miraculously become a lady of the ton?”

  “No, I think you should try to contact them because they are your family. You owe it to yourself to discover the truth about them.”

  “I need no more proof than that unanswered letter Wargrove returned,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “I will not contact my mother’s family. It is clear to me none of them cared about her.”

  “What if there are extenuating circumstances? All of the trouble started before you were even born. I think you should investigate,” he said. “It’s quite possible there are things you know nothing about. It has been many years, after all. Will you think about it?” Harry said.

  “I doubt they would welcome me.”

  “I suspect you would be surprised at their reaction,” he said.

  Her heart hammered in her chest. “I don’t know if I can,” she said. “He hurt my mother. What kind of man would disown his own daughter?”

  “There is only one way you can find out,” Harry said. “I hope for your sake you will consider it.”

  “What good could come from it?” she said, her voice pitching higher. “I doubt they even know of my existence.”

  “They are your family. It would be a shame if your family never had a chance to meet you, because they had no idea how to locate you.”

  “I will think about it, but I doubt I will change my mind.” She sighed. “The light is starting to fade. I should leave soon to avoid walking in the dark.”

  “I’ll take you up in my carriage.” He leaned down until his breath whispered over her lips. The scent of his skin filled her senses. It was elemental, like the smell of rain, but unique to him. He drew her closer, and she held her breath, certain he meant to kiss her.

  The sound of footsteps on the grass startled her.

  He tightened his hold on her. “It’s only a servant walking a dog.”

  She put her hand to her pounding heart. “I worry someone we know will see us and think I’m your mistress.”

  He took out his watch. “They’ll all be at Rotten Row.”

  “I had better go,” she said.

  “My carriage is here. It makes sense for me to take you home. I insist.”

  “You insist?”

  “Yes,” he said, tickling her waist to distract her.

  “Don’t,” she said with a squeak.

  “You had better agree or I’ll tickle you again.”

  “Stop, stop. I surrender.”

  “I like the sound of that,” he said, his voice rumbling. Then he stood, pulled her flush against him, and gave her another lush, deep kiss. Her skin heated, and everything inside of her melted. She laid her head against his chest and breathed in his scent. “If I were a better person, I would give you up for your sake and the sake of your family. But I can’t,” she said.

  “I would never allow it,” he said, holding her tightly in his arms. “I won’t give you up, not ever.”

  He kissed her again, and this time she rose on her toes, and his hands slid to her bottom. He pulled her flush against him, and she could feel the hard ridge of his erection. His breathing was faster and a little ragged. They were both breathing hard when he broke the kiss. She set her palm on his chest and felt the beating of his heart.

  “I will make you mine,” he whispered.

  He offered his arm. When she took it, she knew he’d managed to charm her into doing his bidding once again. Despite all the obstacles between them, she couldn’t seem to squelch the hope beating in her heart. The hope that he was powerful enough and determined enough to flout society. She desperately wanted to believe that somehow he was strong enough to overcome all of the obstacles so they could be together. Because even though she’d tried to resist him,
even though she knew it was impossible, she loved him, and she wasn’t ready to give him up yet. Just a little while longer and then she would end it. She must love him enough to do what was right for him and his family.

  That night

  Harry set out a sheet of paper, dipped his pen in the inkwell, and paused. What the bloody hell was he thinking? If he went against Lucy’s wishes and contacted Wargrove, she would never forgive him, and she would be justified. It wasn’t his decision to make.

  He’d known it was wrong before he trimmed his pen, but he’d been worried about Lucy and her grandmother since he’d learned they lived in one of the worst neighborhoods in London. Just thinking of her walking in the dark made him wild with fear. He also worried about Mrs. Longmore. Lucy had told him their neighbor Mrs. Green looked in on Lucy’s grandmother during the day, but that only reminded him that Lucy would be all alone if God forbid something happened to her grandmother.

  That, however, did not give him the right to intervene on Lucy’s behalf with Wargrove. In truth, she had good cause to be wary of the man. She knew very little about him, and what she did know was not positive. Yes, there was the possibility that matters might have changed after all these years, but it was equally possible that Wargrove would refuse to acknowledge his granddaughter. After all, the man had not even deigned to open a letter from Lucy’s mother.

  Harry had to consider the emotional impact on Lucy as well. What would happen if Lucy met Wargrove and he refused to recognize her as a family member? She would be devastated. Her father had failed her and God help him so had he. The last thing she needed was another man to disappoint her. If she would agree to marry him, he’d get a special license tomorrow, but she had misgivings and fears that it would hurt his family. He didn’t believe it, but she did. Regardless, the worst thing he could do was to take matters into his hands without consulting her.

  What he needed to do was persuade Lucy that they could be together. He must prove to her that he could scale that invisible class wall without hurting anyone in either of their families. He had no illusions about her resistance, but he’d sworn to make her his. He mustn’t let doubts deter him.