What a Devilish Duke Desires

by Vicky Dreiling

  When she looked at him, his eyes were red. “I’m so sorry. I love you too much to do this to you.”

  “Don’t leave me, Lucy.”

  She shook her head. “You know as well as I do that nothing you say will change what happened today.”

  “I will take you to the Albany.” He knocked his cane on the roof. When the carriage rolled to a halt, Harry gave the driver new instructions. A few minutes later, his carriage halted one block away from the Albany.

  She threw her arms around him and kissed him. “Good-bye Harry.”

  “I’ll wait here this afternoon.”

  Acute pain shot straight to her heart. She stepped out of the carriage and squared her shoulders the same way she’d done that night she’d lost her seamstress job. Then she turned on Vigo Street and strode to Mrs. Finkle’s office.

  Harry was furious as he gave the driver directions to Beauland’s town house. When he rang the bell, a butler admitted him. Harry gave him his card.

  “I will return shortly,” the butler said, and installed him in the anteroom.

  Not long afterward the butler returned. “I regret to inform you that his lordship is not at home.”

  He would not stand for this insult. “Tell his lordship I am here on a matter of honor.”

  The butler’s eyes widened.

  He raised his voice. “Tell his lordship that I insist upon meeting him about a matter of honor. Do it now!”

  The butler hurried up the stairs.

  A few minutes later, the butler stood aside as Beauland walked down the stairs. “What the devil do you want, Granfield?”

  Harry stripped off his glove and slapped it in Beauland’s face.

  “Damn you, Granfield.”

  “Apologize,” Harry said.

  “I will not,” Beauland shouted.

  “Pistols,” Harry said, raising his own voice. “Dawn, Wimbledon Common.”

  Everleigh ran down the stairs. “For God’s sake, stop.”

  “Apologize or I swear I’ll make you a dead man on the morrow,” Harry said in a seething tone.

  “Father, stand down,” Everleigh shouted.

  “I will not,” Beauland said.

  “You are in the wrong, Father,” Everleigh said in a heated voice. “Now stand down!”

  Lady Beauland stood at the landing and started to sway. A maid rushed forward and caught her.

  “Enough, Father,” Everleigh said. “You are in the wrong, and you know it. I told you yesterday that Miss Longmore is a lady who has suffered from undeserved misfortune. She teaches dance lessons to support her blind grandmother. Granfield was not lying yesterday, despite what you think. You have leapt to conclusions and created a terrible scene.”

  “How dare you speak to me in that tone of voice?” Beauland said.

  “I dare because you are in the wrong,” Everleigh said. “Now make your apology.”

  “I will not,” Beauland said, scowling.

  “Then I am no longer your eldest son.”

  “What?” Beauland said. “You can’t do that.”

  “Yes, I can, and I will if you refuse to stand down,” Everleigh said.

  Beauland scowled. “You are my son. You will do my bidding.”

  “I promise I’ll walk out of your house forever if you do not apologize now,” Everleigh said.

  Beauland’s breathing was audible.

  “I’m leaving,” Everleigh said. “Give my love to my mother.”

  “Stop!” Beauland said.

  Everleigh turned about and folded his arms over his chest. “Say the words or I will leave.”

  Beauland inhaled and exhaled through his nostrils. Then he muttered, “I apologize for my mistake.”

  “Accepted,” Harry said.

  “I will walk with you to your carriage,” Everleigh said to Harry.

  The sun was shining brightly as they stepped out in the cool breeze. “Sorry about the scene,” Everleigh said. “My father is difficult.”

  “He reacts first and thinks later,” Harry said.

  Everleigh gave him a curious look. “I think you are aware of my father’s strict adherence to the proprieties, but you are not aware that my younger brother left home.”

  “For a woman who wasn’t considered suitable, I suppose.”

  Everleigh hesitated and said, “Not a woman.”

  “Ah, now I understand.”

  “Father cast him out five years ago.”

  Harry winced. Why were some people so damned cruel?

  “He is my younger brother,” Everleigh said.

  “You are close?” Harry asked.

  Everleigh nodded. “My father refuses to see him.”

  Harry knew it must have been hard on Everleigh and his brother. “Do you visit your brother?”

  “Yes. My father doesn’t know.”

  Harry noted the raw emotions on Everleigh’s face.

  “You will always be brothers. No one can take that away from you.”

  Everleigh took a deep breath. “Granfield, for whatever it is worth, I hope all works out for you and Miss Longmore.”

  “Thank you, Everleigh.”

  Harry had made a vow that he would never let Lucy go. He’d be damned if he gave up now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucy felt numb all over as she walked along Vigo Street. In the distance she could see dark clouds that seemed to represent the many dark days ahead without Harry. She was still in shock over what had happened, but she knew it was disastrous. Before this week was over, she would likely lose every one of her dancing clients. She would have to find a new second job as soon as possible.

  The clouds were growing darker and the wind was picking up. A few drops of rain landed on her as she walked through the yard. She was aware of men ogling her. It bothered her, but Lucy pretended to be oblivious to their stares and knocked on Mrs. Finkle’s door.

  “Come in,” Mrs. Finkle called out.

  When Lucy stepped inside, Mrs. Finkle handed her a stack of sheets. “Clean the usual rooms,” she said, “and don’t be rushin’ to avoid the rain. Nobody ever drowned from a little wet.”

  Lucy curtsied. “Yes, Mrs. Finkle.” She was weighted down as much from her gloomy thoughts as from the heavy sheets she balanced.

  As she walked up the stairs, the spare keys clinked in her apron. She decided to clean Harry’s room last as a fitting farewell to the forbidden man she loved. By the time she reached Harry’s set, Lucy was weary and her back ached.

  Lucy knocked on the door and called out, “Maid service.” No one answered, so she unlocked the door.

  When she walked inside, Bandit loped over to her and lolled his tongue. She petted him, and her eyes welled with tears. She felt so guilty about what had happened today. If she’d kept her distance from him, none of this would have ever happened. Now, because of her, two families were in turmoil.

  Bandit followed her from room to room as she cleaned. Traces of evergreen soap lingered in Harry’s bedchamber, and the scent filled her with pain. How would she live without him?

  She made herself hurry, because for some reason, it hurt to strip the sheets from his bed. When she realized the book of erotic engravings was missing, she wondered if he’d put it away for her sake. She shook off the thought and went to work sweeping. She wanted to keep as numb as possible, but she was more dispirited than she’d ever been.

  She managed to brush off the dog hair from the sofa, even though Bandit kept nosing her hand. She cleaned out the bowl and pitcher with vinegar and water. Then she cleaned out the ashes from the hearth.

  By four o’clock her lower back ached even more, and she was bone tired as she hefted the last bag of sheets over her shoulder. Thunder rumbled much closer and the wind swirled faster as she carefully picked her way down the stairs. All she wanted was to deliver the laundry, collect her wages, and find Harry’s carriage.

  A few raindrops fell as Lucy stepped into the yard. Her shoes sunk a little in the damp gravel as she walked to Mr
s. Finkle’s office. A group of men stood there talking. One man turned and stared at her. It was Mr. Castelle.

  He smiled and walked toward her. “Miss Longmore, what are you doing here?”

  She lifted her chin. “I work here.”

  Castelle did a poor job of hiding his shock. “It will rain soon. You might wish to take cover.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Castelle.”

  An errand boy hurried past and gave her a quick look, but she didn’t think much of it.

  Lucy fidgeted. “Please, excuse me. I must go.”

  “Yes, of course,” Castelle said. “May I help? Your bag looks heavy.”

  “No thank you.” She curtsied and continued on her way.

  She’d drawn attention from the other men momentarily, but they ignored her now. It was unlucky to have encountered Castelle, but she reminded herself that it no longer mattered. Today marked the end of her affaire de coeur with Harry. She would tell him this afternoon, when she met him a block away from the Albany.

  Lucy rapped on Mrs. Finkle’s door and hoped the woman would answer soon, because the bag was heavy. When the door opened, the errand boy from earlier regarded her with a guilty expression and ran out.

  Lucy thought his behavior curious but dismissed him from her thoughts as she stepped inside. “The last sheets are in the bag, Mrs. Finkle.”

  Mrs. Finkle rose and walked around her desk. “Well, I thought you had more brains than most of the girls that work here, but obviously not.”

  “What?” Lucy said, stunned by her words. Her heart drummed. “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you think I don’t keep an eye on the maids? I told you there was to be no fraternizing. You broke the rules.”

  “I did nothing wrong,” Lucy said, clasping her shaking hands hard. “One of the gentlemen recognized me from another job, but I did not linger.” Oh, dear God, she couldn’t lose this job. “There has been a mistake,” Lucy said. “Truly, I didn’t fraternize with the gentleman.”

  “A likely tale. I don’t want your excuses. You’re not the first to think you can slip into a man’s bed for a coin or two at the Albany. But you won’t do it under my watch.”

  “I did no such thing,” she said. “You’re accusing me of something I haven’t done. Mrs. Finkle, he greeted me in the yard, and I did not wish to be rude.”

  “Do you think I don’t know about that carriage what waits down the street for you every afternoon?”

  “I beg your pardon? What difference does it make if a friend gives me a ride in a carriage?”

  “I know who your friend is. I told you the rules the day you applied here. Rules is rules, and that’s the end of it for you, miss.” She turned around and opened a wooden safe. “Your final wages. Let this be a lesson to you. There won’t be no character letter neither.”

  Lucy started shaking. “Will you not reconsider? I only greeted him for a moment. I’ve taken on extra shifts when others didn’t show, and I’ve always cleaned every room until it was spotless.” She gripped her trembling hands hard. “Please, won’t you reconsider?”

  Mrs. Finkle shook her head. “I gave you a chance and you disobeyed the rules. That’s the end of it. Be gone with you.”

  Lucy walked out and felt an icy chill inside her chest. The errand boy gave her a sly smile and ran off. Lucy wondered if Mrs. Finkle paid the boy to watch the maids. She would never know, and there was nothing to be done about it now. As she exited Vigo Street and stepped onto Piccadilly, she once again felt as if she were moving through a thick fog. Raindrops started falling faster. She tried to find an awning to stand under, but there weren’t any nearby.

  She stood in the cold as the rain fell harder. She was cold, wet, and miserable as she stood on the pavement waiting for Harry. A speeding curricle drove past, splashing mud on her hem, slippers, and stockings. Her shoulders slumped, and she wondered how she would ever overcome this latest setback. She still had the character letter from Mr. Wilson, thank God, but she would not be able to list the Albany as her last employment. Lucy knew her dance clients would abandon her in droves once the scandal got out.

  She shivered. Her threadbare cloak was little protection from the cold. The wind kept blowing her hood back. The rain fell harder, but there was no shelter. When she took out her watch, she noted it was half past four o’clock. It wasn’t like Harry to be late. Ordinarily she would laugh at her disheveled appearance after a bit of rain, but she was chilled to the bone.

  A carriage hurtled along the street. Lucy stepped back to avoid more mud. When the carriage halted, the door flew open and Harry jumped down. “Lucy, I’m sorry. There was an accident in the street, and I was stuck. Oh my God, you’re trembling and wet through.”

  She couldn’t stop shivering as he helped her inside the carriage. Her head fell back against the squabs. “I’m s-so c-cold.”

  Harry pulled out a woolen rug from the compartment beneath the seat. He helped her out of the cloak, but she was shaking so badly it took forever. Once he had the cloak off, he covered her with the rug. “I know it only traps the dampness.” Her eyes closed, and she didn’t respond. He found his cane and knocked the roof. The carriage rolled off in the pouring rain.

  He surveyed her face. She was far too pale, and it scared him.

  When he smoothed a stray red hair from Lucy’s forehead, he gasped at the feel of her hot face. She was burning up with a fever. He must summon a physician as soon as they arrived at the town house, but damn it all to hell the streets were crowded with vehicles because no one wanted to walk in the downpour.

  “Lucy,” he said. “Sweet girl, talk to me.”

  She kept shivering, despite the woolen rug, and seemed completely insensible. God in heaven, she was very ill. Rain beat on top of the carriage. “Lucy,” he said. Her eyes fluttered momentarily and closed again. He pulled her onto his lap, thinking to warm her with his body heat, but she still shivered. He rocked her against him. “Stay with me, Lucy, I need you.”

  By the time the carriage finally arrived in the modest neighborhood, Harry was doubly shaken by Lucy’s lethargy and white complexion. When the butler opened the door, Harry shouted for him to send for a doctor immediately. He lifted Lucy out of the carriage and strode up the pavement. Once inside, he carried her upstairs and bade the maid to stay with her. The housekeeper sent him out of the room so that she could remove Lucy’s sodden clothing. When the maid opened the door a few minutes later, Harry walked inside and brought a chair beside the bed. The housekeeper had managed to get Lucy in a shift and claimed some knowledge of nursing. Not knowing what else he could do, Harry took her suggestion and bathed Lucy’s burning forehead and red cheeks.

  No one seemed to know of a doctor, so he penned a missive to his mother, begging her to send for a doctor. He was so rattled he almost forgot to include the address of the town house he’d leased. It would have proved a disastrous error, and he could not afford to lose a spare moment.

  Harry sent a footman in the carriage with the message and bade the driver to hurry as fast as he could. Then he ran into the house and up the stairs. He sat in the chair by Lucy’s bedside and took over bathing her forehead. She moaned, but she was otherwise listless. His heart pounded with fear. “Lucy, sweet girl, can you hear me?”

  When she did not respond, his throat tightened. God, he was scared. She was in a very bad way.

  The housekeeper brought Mrs. Longmore into the room. Lucy’s grandmother inhaled sharply after touching Lucy’s fiery forehead. Her cheeks were bright red and each time he bathed her forehead, she flinched as if any touch hurt her.

  Mrs. Longmore clasped her hands and her lips moved as she whispered a prayer for her granddaughter.

  Harry walked to the window, wishing the doctor would hurry. He was growing more fearful by the minute. Why had he not left earlier to pick up Lucy? He ought to have known the thunder portended a bad rainstorm. He held his fist to his mouth, knowing his tardiness was responsible for her illness.

  He return
ed to the chair and took her limp hand in his. “Lucy,” he whispered. When he touched her forehead again, she lay listless. He could hardly bear to see her in this awful state. His chest hurt. “Lucy, don’t leave me.”

  She thrashed her head side to side. His mouth dried as fear raced through his veins. “I can’t lose you,” he said, bathing her forehead again. “You’re strong, Lucy. You can conquer the fever.” But she was in an insensible state and her complexion was ashen.

  Once again, he walked to the window, but still no one had come. Now he worried that his mother was from home and had not gotten his message. At his request, the housekeeper sent a footman to inquire about any physician he could possibly find. He could not chance waiting for his mother.

  Harry bathed Lucy’s forehead again. “Lucy, you’re strong. You can conquer the fever.”

  She thrashed a little and then her head fell back. He clenched his jaw, because he was growing more terrified by the minute. “Don’t leave me, Lucy,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I was late.” He tried chafing her wrists, but she shivered again.

  Harry continued to bathe her forehead, though it did not seem to make any difference. Then he heard a noise outside and walked to the window. His mother stepped out of the carriage with a man who held a black bag. “My mother and the physician are here,” he said.

  “Thank God,” Mrs. Longmore said.

  He ran down the stairs to meet his mother. “Thank you for coming.”

  His mother reached up to touch his face. “Be calm,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “This is Dr. Rhodes. He treated one of Mrs. Vernon’s girls for a fever. Miss Longmore will be in good hands.”

  “Your Grace, please take me up to the patient,” Dr. Rhodes said.

  “Yes, thank you,” Harry said.

  “We’ll see her through this,” Dr. Rhodes said. “I brought some willow bark. We can infuse it in some weak tea. It is effective for bringing down a fever.”

  A trembling maid ran over to them and curtsied. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, I’ll make the tea if it pleases you.”

  “Thank you,” Harry said. “What is your name again, miss?”