Denying the Duke (Lords & Ladies in Love)

by Callie Hutton

  Mother narrowed her eyes. “It is not appropriate for a duke to swear.”

  Shaking his head, he stood and walked to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. “One thing confuses me.”

  “And what is that?”

  Alex turned and leaned against the window frame, crossing his arms. “I understand you never had much use for your second son. Merely the ‘spare.’ What I don’t understand is your lack of grief at the loss of Cyrus.”

  “It is not good manners to grieve in public,” she quickly answered. “Are you suggesting I held no love for my son?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “I have no idea what I am suggesting. I have failed to understand you most of my life.”

  Whatever she had intended to speak with him on must have been important since she passed commenting on his words. “What I wish to address is the necessity for you to secure an heir as quickly as possible.”

  Alex’s eyebrows rose as he returned to his seat. “Indeed?” Now it appeared he was to be pushed from both sides of the aisle. “Anyone in particular you had in mind?” He refused to play her game.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. Lady Patience is a lovely woman, and we all thought she would make a perfect duchess—”

  “For my brother.”

  His mother hesitated. One did not interrupt the duchess. “Yes. Well, he was to be the duke, but now that duty falls to you. You must move forward and make sure the dukedom is secure for the future.”

  He tapped the ledger on his desk with his pen. “I intend to secure the future of the dukedom. In my own time. With my own choice for a wife.”

  She leaned forward. “Do not be stubborn, Your Grace. We all know you had a tendre for Lady Patience. I imagine what I am suggesting meets with great approval on your part.”

  “Mother, that was four years ago. I was a young man and Lady Patience just out of the schoolroom. You, Father, and her parents decided she would make an excellent bride for my brother. As you noted many times in my life, I am not my brother.”

  “But you are the duke!” Mother’s face flushed and she almost lost her well-honed restraint. Something Alex had never witnessed.

  “I apologize to you for that, but I had no control over the circumstances that thrust me into the role. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.” He pulled the pile of correspondence toward him in a rather rude dismissal. He would not continue this conversation when it was a question he wrestled with himself.

  Once the door closed behind his mother, he pushed back from the desk and strode to the window, restlessness he was not used to swamping him. He stared out as the pale sun highlighted small buds of flowers trying desperately to announce spring.

  There was certainly no denying the attraction that still raged between him and Patience when they were together. He wanted her, more than any woman he’d ever known. He’d been half aroused since he first laid eyes on her after learning she was not his brother’s widow. But did he want her for a wife?

  Or, better yet, would she want him for a husband, once she realized what a changed man he was? The young Alex who had foolishly dreamed of things beyond his reach was now an embittered former soldier with blood on his hands, wrestling with demons.

  In his frustration, he mused whether it would be better to be done with it all, grab Patience, and head for Gretna Green. He could think of one very good reason not to dash off to find her now and propose. Her father and his mother, two people he had no use for, were on a campaign to force his hand. What no one had taken into consideration, as far as he knew, was what Patience had to say about it. Perhaps he should discuss it with her, not their parents.

  Unable to concentrate any longer on the correspondence on his desk, he moved to the desk, stacked the pile of letters and invitations into some semblance of order, and left his study. He strode from the house and walked the two blocks to Wilton’s townhouse. The door opened the minute his foot hit the bottom stair. He took the steps two at a time and burst into the entrance hall.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace.” The man at the door gave a perfect bow.

  “Is Lady Patience at home?”

  The man looked genuinely sorry. “Unfortunately, Your Grace, Lady Patience and Lady Wilton are making afternoon calls.”

  Alex hesitated. “Is Lady Patience’s lady’s maid about?”

  If the butler thought anything unusual about a duke asking for a lady’s maid, nothing showed in his demeanor. “If you will follow me to the drawing room, I will send Polly to you.”

  Alex studied the man for a moment. “Are you Wickham?”

  “I am, Your Grace.” A slight surprise caused the man’s brows to rise.

  Alex grinned. “I hear you are an exceptional chess player.”

  A slight blush rose to the man’s cheeks. “I try, Your Grace.”

  After a short consultation with Polly, Alex set off to the mews behind his townhouse to have his Landau readied.

  Chapter Eight

  Patience had no sooner settled into a chair in Lady Albright’s drawing room than Miss Cissy Spencer hurried across the room and sat alongside her. “Oh, goodness, Lady Patience. We were so sorry to hear about His Grace’s death. You must be beside yourself. I mean”—she turned as if she were sharing a great secret, and lowered her voice—“given the way he was found.” She shivered. “It must have been awful for his…” She stopped and covered her mouth, blushing quite red.

  This was Patience’s first foray into Society since Cyrus’s death. Though she would not be comfortable attending balls just yet, she had bent to Mother’s suggestion that she should attend some afternoon calls, rides in the park, and more sedate social events.

  “His Grace, the Duke of Bedford.” Lady Albright’s butler made the staid announcement and stepped aside as Alex entered the room.

  Their hostess fluttered and fawned as Alex bent over her hand. She gave a telling glance to her daughter, Lady Patricia, who immediately patted the seat next to her. “Your Grace, please do sit here. I will be happy to pour you some tea.”

  Patience grinned at Alex’s smile as he joined Lady Patricia. She knew well that smile was insincere. It appeared the marriage-minded mamas and daughters-in-waiting had already begun their campaign to snag a duke. Which raised the question: What exactly is Alex doing here? Had he decided to begin his search for a bride? Was Lady Patricia on his list of potential candidates?

  She quelled the sudden urge to cry. She hadn’t even had a chance to get to know him again, yet, it appeared he might be snatched from her before she decided if their young love had survived the four years of separation.

  “His Grace is so handsome, is he not?” Miss Cissy whispered close to Patience’s ear. “I know someone like Lady Patricia will catch him, however. Her mother is notorious when it comes to matchmaking. She secured titles for all three of her other daughters, but a duke would be her pièce de résistance. They make a lovely couple, do they not?’

  Patience studied the two of them, their heads bent in conversation. It bothered her to see them so close together, his dark brown curls to her pale blond locks. “Yes, they are charming together.” She hated how her voice shook.

  Miss Cissy regarded her with curiosity. “Do you have intentions toward His Grace? After all, he is your deceased betrothed’s brother. Had you met him before he returned from the military?”

  She shrugged. “Once when we were quite young.” When we fell in love and made promises to each other to wait three years, but our parents had other plans.

  Miss Cissy sighed again. “He is certainly easy to look at.”

  She’d had enough. Watching Lady Patricia hang on his every word and edge closer to him on the settee, apparently with her mother’s blessing, turned her stomach and threatened a headache. “Mother, I would like to leave.”

  “Of course, dear.” They both stood, which gained Alex’s attention.

  “One moment, ladies,” he said to Mother. He turned to Lady Patricia. “I am afraid I must
take my leave now. Thank you for a pleasant chat.”

  Her face fell when he stood. “Oh, Your Grace, you have hardly spent any time. Can you not stay a bit longer? I was so enjoying our conversation.”

  Lady Albright jumped in. “Yes, Your Grace. I am sure Lady Patricia would love to show you the gardens.” Both women beamed at him, apparently forgetting it was highly unlikely any flowers would be in bloom in late March.

  He bowed. “I would love to view your gardens. Perhaps another time.” His cool voice and staid expression showed no emotion, whereas at one time he’d been so open she could read every thought on his face. “But I fear I must attend to some business.”

  Lady Patricia’s hopeful smile turned into what she must have thought was a flirting pout. “Very well, Your Grace, perhaps some other time, then. I shall see you to the door.”

  Patience managed to restrain from rolling her eyes, as she and Mother, along with Lady Patricia hanging onto Alex’s arm, effected a small parade to the front door. All they were missing was music and flags waving. Lady Patricia tried her best to delay Alex as the Wilton carriage rolled to a stop at the front door.

  “Thank you for calling, Lady Wilton, Lady Patience.” She continued to cling to Alex’s arm.

  Patience smiled, her jaw tight, but graciously curtsied. “Thank you, it has been a pleasure.” Liar.

  Not sure how he’d done it, but as soon as the door to their carriage closed, Alex appeared at the window to the coach. “Lady Patience, I wonder if you would accompany me on a ride this afternoon? Lady Wilton, I would be happy to have you join us.”

  “Unfortunately, Your Grace. I find myself somewhat weary, and would appreciate a lie-down. You may call for my daughter at our townhouse. We are headed directly home.”

  “That would be perfect.” He turned and headed to the landau with the duke’s crest on the door. Odd that he had not arrived on his horse. Could it be he had stopped in at Lady Albright’s home with the sole purpose of seeking Patience out, knowing she and Mother would be there?

  It was a short ride to the townhouse. As she gathered her skirts in preparation to step down, Mother turned to Patience. “I know your father is most anxious for a match between you and His Grace. This might be a good opportunity to secure your future.”

  Patience moaned. “Please, Mother, not you, too. I had hoped you were on my side. I have no control over what His Grace wishes regarding a wife. He might not even want one just yet, and he certainly has his choice of ladies. Perhaps you didn’t notice Lady Patricia fawning all over him? That is just the beginning. There are many young ladies who would be thrilled to be selected as his duchess, and have no doubt already set their caps for him.”

  Goodness those words hurt. Even though she wasn’t yet sure their feelings for each other had bridged the gap of four years, the thought of him holding another woman in his arms and kissing her the way he’d kissed her twisted her insides.

  “Nonsense. You and he have a history. I might bring to your recollection the day I told you of your father’s plans to betroth you to his brother. I was the one who wiped away your heartbroken tears. Here is an opportunity to gain what you wanted so badly.”

  Yes, but does he want it? This new man whose eyes no longer hold humor, but pain? Whose open, carefree manner is now closed and cautious?

  Patience followed her mother out of the coach and took Alex’s arm as he escorted her to the landau. As they settled in for the ride, Alex asked, “Does a ride in Hyde Park appeal to you?”

  “Certainly, Your Grace,” Patience said.

  They joined the queue of carriages and horses taking the daily stroll on the pathway during Polite Society’s fashionable hour. After about ten minutes, when they’d nodded to acquaintances and acknowledged greetings from all the young ladies and their mothers who eyed Alex with a newly acquired interest, Alex placed his hand over hers and said, “Patience there is something of importance I wish to discuss with you.”

  She wasn’t altogether happy with the look on Alex’s face. His more guarded mien had turned downright lugubrious, alerting her to the seriousness of the subject he wanted to discuss. She braced herself to hear that he’d decided to choose a bride—most likely Lady Patricia—and wanted her to know that for as much as they had once meant to each other, there was no future for them.

  …

  Alex had no idea what was going through Patience’s mind, but at his words she had stiffened and moved farther away from him. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

  Just the little bit of time spent in Lady Albright’s drawing room had forced him to acknowledge his mother was not the only person who thought he should secure a wife posthaste. If one young man could collapse and die so easily, so could he. Not that he was morbid enough to dwell on the possibility of his early demise, but a man had to see to his responsibilities.

  No doubt at every affair he attended forthwith, he would be eyed with speculation, and flat-out pursued by the ladies of the ton with marriageable daughters. With everything else he had been presented with since his return to London, the last thing he needed was a chase by determined mamas. Or put into circumstances with some conniving chit that resulted in a forced marriage.

  “I need a wife,” he blurted out.

  Patience turned to him, her eyes wide. “I see.” After a slight pause, she continued, “Is the purpose of this ride to ask my assistance in the selection? If so, I assume Lady Patricia would be at the top of the list. She is beautiful, gracious, well bred, and many other things I cannot think of at the moment.” Her voice was high pitched, and she spoke rapidly. “On the other hand, perhaps Lady Matilda, or Miss Susan Wright, both lovely ladies. There is also—”

  “Patience. Stop.” He reached over and covered her hand with his.

  Her cheeks were flushed, and her rapid breathing brought his attention to the swells of her delectable breasts as they moved up and down.

  “I do not have the time or stamina to go through the process of courting. I am also restricted by the events I can and cannot attend due to being in some sort of mourning—although I am quite sure a duke can pretty much do as he pleases.

  “My new duties have nearly overwhelmed me. Since we have been friends for a long time, I thought, perhaps, you might be willing to fulfill that role for me.”

  Patience continued to stare at him, and though her cheeks were still flushed, he had an uncomfortable feeling that this time, the flush rose from anger. Her eyes snapped, and she clenched her fingers together tightly in her lap. “I see. You wish me to fulfill a role to keep you from being bothered by the selection process? Do I have that right?”

  Alex stiffened and glanced at her sideways. “That is not exactly what I meant, although it might have sounded that way.”

  “That is precisely how it sounded, Your Grace.”

  Bloody hell. She was angry. He had really bungled it. Drawing in a deep breath he tried again. “I cannot truthfully tell you we can pick up where we left off years ago. I’ve seen horrible things, Patience, that have changed me from the young man you once knew. I am no longer the second son who was free to join the military, or make my own way in the world. I am still trying to find my way around, and cannot take on another project.”

  “Take on another project? You sought me out at Lady Albright’s home to ask me to join you in a ride, all for the intention of asking me to be your project?”

  “That is not what I meant,” he snapped.

  Patience moved as far from him as she was able without falling out of the vehicle. “I feel a megrim coming on, Your Grace. Please take me home.”

  “Will you give me the opportunity to explain myself better?”

  “I wish to go home.”

  With a deep sigh, Alex turned the landau and headed toward the park exit. At this point it was probably best to allow Patience time to calm down. He did have an obligation to marry, and if he must select a wife, he truly did want that wife to be Patience, but he doubted he could offer her the lo
ve and affection he’d once felt. Yes, lust and desire were still there, but somewhere deep inside was blackness and a weary soul. Once Boney had been defeated, and he’d returned to England before his assignment in America, he’d decided he would avoid burdening a woman with his bleakness, thus no leg shackles for him. At the time, with no need to marry, it had been a wise decision.

  Silence reigned as they made their way from the park to the townhouse. Patience sat still as a statue when he jumped down and rounded the vehicle to help her alight. She stiffened as he reached up and grasped her around the waist, and her eyes refused to meet his. Rather than wait for him to escort her, she gathered her skirts and started up the stairs.

  He watched her go, her back straight, and her shoulders back. She would make a fine general.

  And duchess.

  Alex had the driver return the landau to the mews and prepared Night Storm himself to leave as quickly as possible. The ride through town to White’s didn’t do much to clear his head.

  The footman at the door took his greatcoat, hat, and gloves. The room held a number of men reading newspapers, sipping brandy or coffee, and conversing.

  He settled into a chair in the corner, in no mood for company.

  “There you are. I thought I spotted you from across the room.” Lord Wilton collapsed into the chair across from him. “Lady Wilton tells me you and my daughter went for a ride in the park.”

  Bloody hell. Just what he needed after the disastrous proposal he’d made to Patience. The muscles in Alex’s stomach clenched. He really disliked this man. “Yes, I just returned her home.”

  Wilton signaled a footman to bring him a drink. “How goes your search for a bride? Am I to assume that was the purpose of the ride with my daughter?”

  The man was beyond belief. “You might as well know I have reason to believe any proposal coming from me at present will be rejected by Patience.”

  Wilton reared back as if slapped. “That is impossible,” he blustered, “if you were to ask her, I am sure—”