Nothing Compares to the Duke

by Christy Carlyle

The wariness in her cousin’s eyes made Bella nervous. “I’ll be back,” she told her father before following her cousin into the hallway.

  “We should go to your sitting room.”

  Bella wanted to ask. Anxiousness was rolling off Louisa like smoke and she was usually as clearheaded as Bella. When they reached the sitting room, Bella closed the door behind her and leaned against it.

  “Tell me what’s wrong. You look miserable.”

  “I’m not,” Louisa insisted. “Please don’t worry. It’s just a challenge that must be overcome.”

  “What is?”

  For the first time she noticed that Louisa had something clutched in her hands. An envelope with Bella’s name and address written on the front.

  “I have bad news and good. Which do you prefer first?”

  “Good.” The practical choice was to hear the bad news first and comfort herself with the good, but she wasn’t feeling practical.

  Louisa smiled conspiratorially and slipped her the envelope as if it was a secret missive she’d need to burn after reading. “It’s from a publisher in London. Mr. Peabody.”

  Bella frowned and took the letter gingerly. “I’ve already met with him. He rejected me.”

  “What does it say?” Louisa sat in one of the chairs near the window and leaned forward eagerly.

  The man had been unequivocal and curt the day she’d met with him. He’d made her feel as if she was wasting his time by even visiting his office.

  “Perhaps this is just a formal written rejection.” Bella slid her fingernail along the letter’s closure and pulled the note free. She read the formal salutation with a sigh and then gasped.

  “Is it good news?” Louisa leaned closer, attempting to peek over the letter’s edge.

  “He says he would like to see the full manuscript and invites me to visit next week or at my earliest convenience.” Even as Bella heard her own words and reread the note, she couldn’t quite believe the man’s change of tone. “It makes very little sense.”

  “People change their minds, Bella. Did you leave any of your manuscript with him? Perhaps he took a closer look and reconsidered.”

  “I didn’t though. He had a cursory glance at a few pages and told me no. Very firmly.”

  “Then this truly is good news.” Louisa beamed proudly. “He’s changed his mind and wishes to give you a second chance. You deserve more consideration than a few moments and a few pages.”

  Bella had a feeling she knew what had led to Mr. Peabody’s reversal. Only one person other than Meg knew of her plan to meet with the publisher in London. And only Rhys knew the precise address of the man’s office. She was torn between gratitude for his wish to help her and frustration that he didn’t heed her insistence on finding publishing success entirely on her own.

  “Do you want to hear the rest?”

  “Yes, of course.” She’d almost forgotten there was bad news too.

  “I’ve been helping Aunt Gwendoline sort through which clothes she wishes to take to Greece and had one of the footmen bring a traveling trunk from out of storage.”

  “Good. I promised I’d help her this afternoon too.”

  “She refuses to actually pack the trunk.” Louisa drew in a breath and said, “I believe she’s going to try to convince you to hold the ceremony before they depart.”

  Bella shook her head. “That’s not what they agreed. We told them that we wish to wait until next year.” Good heavens, she was speaking as if it was going to happen at all. “If they’d only go, I know they’ll love it and even after I’ve told them the engagement is broken they’ll see out Papa’s term.”

  “And what if she insists on a wedding before they’ll depart?”

  “Planning a wedding would take too long. Papa is expected next month. The school year begins in late September. They must go now.”

  Louisa cast Bella a look that reflected all of her own worry.

  “What will you do?”

  Bella tapped her fingers against her lap and weighed the very few options she could imagine. Only one seemed both simple and effective. “I’ll have to negotiate with her again. Urge her to go and accept that the wedding won’t even be planned until next year.”

  Louisa crossed her arms and pursed her brow in a worried look. “I’m not sure that will work. She’s not content to let it wait. She feels that arrangement still leaves you unsettled.”

  “Then I’ll have to give her part of what she wants.”

  “How can you?”

  Bella lifted her hand to the high-buttoned collar of her day dress, fingers searching for the reassuring feel of the pendant underneath the fabric. “It will require the duke’s help. Now, let’s just hope he agrees.”

  “I beg you, Your Grace.”

  As Bella approached the ballroom where the housemaid told her she’d find Rhys, she heard Mrs. Chalmers’s voice. The way she petitioned him with such earnest desperation made Bella quicken her step. What in heaven’s name was he putting his faithful housekeeper through?

  Crossing the threshold, she found Rhys, Mrs. Chalmers, and Meg in the center of the room.

  “Miss Prescott, I hope you’ve come to save me.” The older woman blotted her flushed perspiring face with a handkerchief. “Not certain of all these steps to the dance, but I am certain my old body wasn’t made for such frolicking.”

  Bella looked from the harried housekeeper to Meg and then to Rhys.

  “We were giving Meg a little dance lesson,” Rhys told her by way of explanation.

  “I know how to dance,” Meg protested with a sheepish glance at the young footman. “Finishing school did include dance lessons,” she told her brother. “But the quadrille has always confused me.”

  “It’s far too vigorous for my taste. I’m winded. May I get on with my other duties, Your Grace?” Mrs. Chalmers asked, still breathing hard. “Miss Prescott must be far more adept than I am. Aren’t you, miss?”

  “I’ve danced my share of quadrilles,” Bella told her to offer reassurance.

  None of the memories were particularly pleasant ones but she didn’t dare divulge those details. Most of her ballroom experiences had been less than pleasant.

  “Actually, we’re moving on from the quadrille.” Meg caught her brother’s eye and then smiled at Bella. “There is only one dance in which I truly need instruction. We were never taught it at finishing school because it was considered too scandalous.”

  “The waltz,” Rhys said. “I have personal knowledge of Miss Prescott’s skill with that dance.”

  He’d been gazing at her since she’d stepped into the room, and she realized she hadn’t offered him any greeting.

  “Would you mind showing me?” Meg asked with a suspiciously innocent tone. “I’m sure if I saw you and Rhys performing the steps, especially if you went slowly, I could remember them.”

  “There’s no music.” It was the first reasonable protest Bella could muster.

  “I can hum a waltz,” Meg assured her with a cheeky grin. “I recently taught myself how to play one on the piano and I remember the tempo.”

  “Wonderful,” Bella told her drily.

  The misery of it was that she wanted to be in Rhys’s arms, but the prospect of being so close to him in front of Meg made her pulse jump in her throat. Certainly, her feelings for him were written all over her face.

  He knew exactly how she felt, if the look on his face was any indication. As he approached, his mouth curved gently and his gaze filled with mischief. “Shall we? Waltzing together can’t be a scandal if we’re betrothed.”

  “We danced the waltz before we were betrothed.”

  He laughed as he took her hand. “Then we’ll be even better this time.”

  Bella went into his arms, one palm locked against his, and her body began to vibrate the moment he slid a hand around her waist.

  “Meg, let’s have some music,” he said, never taking his eyes off of Bella’s.

  Meg began humming and tapped her slippered foot
on the parquet ballroom floor to indicate the tempo of the waltz.

  Rhys led her into the first steps of the dance, but he was closer than any ballroom matron in London would have allowed, his chest brushing hers, their hips bumping together when they turned.

  “It’s funny,” he whispered as he stepped her back and then to the side.

  “What is?” Bella clasped his hand tighter. If he meant to distract her with conversation, he might end up with crushed toes.

  “How long a few days can feel,” he said, his voice low.

  Bella stumbled and then forgot what step they were on, so when he moved forward, she failed to step back and pulled him off-balance too.

  He hugged her tight to keep them both on their feet.

  “I’ve got you,” he told her, his mouth against her ear.

  Meg had stopped humming and a tense silence fell over the ballroom. “Are you two all right? Shall I start again?”

  “No,” Bella said before Rhys could reply. “I need to speak to you,” she told him. “Alone.”

  “We’ll have to resume the lessons later, Meg.” He glanced at his sister and she nodded.

  A moment later she left the ballroom and Bella stepped out of Rhys’s arms.

  “Is it bad news?” he asked, his voice lowered in concern. “Are your parents all right?”

  “Yes, thank you. Papa is busy packing books, but Mama is a different story.” Bella considered her next words. How she might phrase her request. In what manner she might convince him. Then all that faded and she blurted, “We have to set a date for the wedding.”

  She watched emotions shift on his face—from shock to confusion to something else. He drew in a breath and looked almost eager.

  “You’re not suggesting that we actually—”

  “Oh, not at all. I’m not asking to change the terms of our arrangement. This isn’t about what happened at the seaside.” She was talking fast and took a breath. “We only need to tell her a date, and I think that may satisfy her enough for them to depart. She wants something to look forward to, to plan toward.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” His voice had gone chilly, and she knew there was more he wished to say.

  “Next spring or even the summer?”

  “Do you have a date in mind?”

  Bella was relieved that he was agreeing to this extra step, but he sounded angry and some part of her understood. They’d set the terms of this arrangement and now she was changing them again. He had his own life to get on with.

  “I know this deception is inconvenient, but it’s only for a little bit longer.”

  “Shall I go with you to tell your mother?”

  “There’s no need. Now that we agree, it’s just a matter of telling them. Mama will be pleased. I’m sure of it. Thank you.”

  There was more she wished to say. They hadn’t truly spoken since they’d parted after their trip to Margate. The problem was Bella wasn’t sure what to say, or even precisely what she felt.

  “You’re welcome.” He didn’t look entirely pleased but he tried for a grin. “Would you like to travel to London with us? Meg says you will have received an invitation for dinner at the Tremaynes.”

  “I did.” What she hadn’t decided was whether to accept. Though now, with the letter from Mr. Peabody in hand, she had even more reason to visit London.

  “We should be seen together.” He approached until they were almost toe to toe. So close, the heat of his body was pure temptation. “Isn’t that what you said when we agreed on this arrangement?”

  This arrangement. That’s all it was. A ruse that would soon come to an end.

  The past few days had been difficult for her too. Concentrating on anything but the memory of their lovemaking had proven impossible. And that was exactly why it needed to end soon. She couldn’t go back to being the girl who thought of nothing but Rhys Forester. She was more than a fawning lovesick girl now.

  “Bella, I hope you don’t wish we had not—”

  “I don’t. I told you. That moment was my choice, and I regret nothing.”

  He winced and she bit her lip, knowing she wasn’t being clear.

  She hadn’t meant to hurt him by using the words of his motto. For those hours in Margate she’d chosen to embrace every word.

  “What happened at the seaside has nothing to do with our arrangement. I know how to keep them separate.”

  When he said no more, she turned and made her way out. She needed to speak to her mother. But as she stepped across the threshold, she heard Rhys’s voice.

  Softly, as if to himself, he said, “I don’t know if I do.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I don’t know why I should be surprised.” Nick Tremayne swirled golden whiskey in his tumbler as he assessed Rhys.

  “I’m thrilled if I have surprised you,” Rhys quipped. “I suspect you could use someone overturning your expectations once in a while.”

  “So that’s why you became betrothed within a week of heading to the countryside? To surprise me.”

  “Did it work?” Rhys chuckled and struggled to inject any genuine mirth into the sound.

  “Perhaps I simply underestimated you.”

  “People often do.”

  “So . . . how did this happen? She’s a beauty. I’ll give you that. But she seems far too clever to be as impulsive as you are.”

  “She is. As to how, I have known Bella since we were children.”

  “And what? She’s been waiting for you in the countryside all these years?”

  “Not waiting for me.” Hating him was more likely. “She’s had four Seasons out and knows her way around London society better than most. What matters to her now is her book. She’s been working on a collection of puzzles. Mental conundrums.” Rhys didn’t know how best to describe them, but he suddenly wished he had a few pages to show his friend. He’d be just the sort to enjoy the challenge.

  “Clever doesn’t do her justice, then, does it? Innovative too. And ambitious.”

  “All those things,” Rhys agreed, and drained the tiny glass of sherry he’d poured himself.

  Nick assessed Rhys for several silent minutes.

  Rhys stood and poured himself another drink, opting for whiskey this time. Even with his back to Nick, he could feel the man’s persistent gaze.

  “The engagement is a sham.” He let out a long breath after the confession and his shoulders felt like a weight had fallen away.

  But when he turned to face Nick again, all the tension returned with a vengeance.

  “You don’t intend to marry this woman.” His glower managed to combine disappointment and anger in a single glare.

  “She doesn’t intend to marry me either.” That admission made him feel hollow inside. “It’s a scheme to satisfy her parents. They gave her an ultimatum, and Bella isn’t the sort to be forced into anything she doesn’t wish to do.”

  Nick tipped his head. His glower had become a frown. “But she wished to pretend to be betrothed. To you.”

  “I was convenient, and I owed her.”

  Nick stood and refilled his glass too. “Now that’s intriguing.”

  “Not money. I disappointed her many years ago.”

  “Disappointed?” Nick’s brows arched high. “Well, obviously she’s forgiven you.”

  “I hope so.” An image came to Rhys, so sharp and sweet it stole his breath. Bella beneath him, staring up at him with a look in her eyes that filled the emptiness inside him as nothing ever had. “Yes, I believe she has forgiven me.”

  “So when does your ruse come crashing down?”

  “I don’t know.” It was the question Rhys asked himself often. The answer to which he’d come to dread. “When her parents are satisfied, I suppose.”

  “And then you can go back to your parties and pleasure.” Nick said the words lightly, almost playfully, and then lifted his glass as if offering a toast. “I imagine that will be a relief.”

  Rhys felt his mouth tilt in a smirk. “Pleasu
re is practically my middle name.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?” Nick leaned his backside against the edge of his enormous desk. “You don’t want the ruse to end.”

  “Nonsense. The sooner we desist with the farce, the quicker I can get back to Claremont House and behaving exactly as I wish.”

  “You’re falling in love with her.” Nick ran a hand across his face and tipped his head again as if he could see straight through Rhys. “Or perhaps you have always loved her.”

  “Stop being fanciful, Tremayne. Just because you’re entirely smitten with your bride, it doesn’t mean we’ve all succumbed.” Rhys turned his back on his friend and took a long swig of whiskey. He focused on the burn rather than the persistent needling of Nick’s examination.

  “True,” Nick said lightly. “And you say she’s been out for some time and is still unwed. It seems such a clever beauty would be more of an enticement.”

  “Bella is nothing but enticement.” Rhys swung around and snapped defensively, “A man would be a fool not to love her.”

  “Indeed.” Nick nodded and shifted his gaze to the carpet. “With her beauty and intelligence, she’s quite the catch. And yet she’s of an age to marry and has not. Any idea why?”

  “There have been proposals.” Rhys shrugged. “She’s refused them all.”

  “Until now.”

  Rhys’s irritation turned to amusement at his friend’s foolishness. “I did not propose to her.”

  “Perhaps you should.”

  “Stop.” His shout echoed in the room, filling up the quiet between them with angry tension.

  After two long deep breaths, Rhys set his glass down and approached his friend. He needed to make Nick understand.

  “Don’t play matchmaker. Bella will marry when she wishes to, and it will be to a man far better than me.”

  Nick lifted off his desk, forcing Rhys to step back. He worked his jaw as if chewing on whatever he wished to say.

  Then to Rhys’s shock, Nick reached for him, bracing a hand on his shoulder.

  “You are a good man.”

  When Rhys opened his mouth to protest, Nick cut him off.

  “We should get back to the ladies before they realize how much more fun they can have without us.”