My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1)

by Julie Johnstone

  “Lady Amelia provides nothing but friendship,” Colin said in lethal tone. “She hurt her ankle on our walk. Mind your tongue, and your hands, or you will find yourself without either one or both.”

  The man cracked a smile that showed he was no angel but pure devil, though a striking one. “Pardon me. I did not realize you had changed. So she’s off-limits? No sharing as in the past?”

  “Scarsdale,” Colin growled, the muscles in his jaw bulging on the one word.

  Amelia’s stomach twisted at Scarsdale’s words. Had Colin shared women with this man? What sort of person would do such a thing?

  “I don’t feel well,” she murmured, meaning it.

  Colin blinked at her, surprise evident on his face. “Scarsdale,” he said as way of a goodbye.

  As Colin whisked her away, Amelia caught a glimpse of a gentleman lingering half-hidden behind a tree. That was odd. She squinted to get a better view. Was that Lord Huntington? No, it couldn’t possibly be. The heat of the day and the awful truth of what she had heard must be getting to her. She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again the gentleman, whoever he was, was gone.

  Within moments, they were at the carriage and on the way back to Lady Langley’s. They rode in near silence; Lucy’s humming the only thing filling the quiet. When they got to the house, Amelia didn’t wait for him to hand her out. She fairly jumped out of the carriage when it stopped and raced toward the garden to be alone. Behind her, footsteps pounded, and she knew without turning that he had followed her. She flung open the iron gate to the garden and raced down the stone path to the fountain in the middle of a circle of trees.

  Why was she so upset about what the Duke of Scarsdale had said?

  She didn’t know, but she was.

  By the time she stopped, her head pounded almost as hard as her heart. Stones crunched behind her, and she swung around to face Colin. “Is what he said true? Did you―” She swallowed hard and forced herself to form the question. “Did you share women with that man?”

  He glanced toward the ground and then finally back up at her. Unspoken pain glittered in his gaze. “Not knowingly. But it’s nice to know you think so little of me. Not that I don’t deserve it.”

  Such relief filled her that she flung herself at him. Their bodies collided, and she swayed backward. In a flash, he reached out and gripped her roughly to him. She splayed her hands over the ridges of his back and buried her face in his chest. It was highly improper, but she just could not seem to help herself or make herself let him go. Instead, she clung to him for a moment, counting the beats of his thumping heart and inhaling his woodsy scent. Confusing emotions ran havoc inside of her.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admitted.

  “Perhaps you’re ready to move on to loftier titles.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” She shoved him away, angered that he would not let go of his ridiculous notions about women. If she was going to make sensible―well half-sensible―decisions regarding him, she needed to understand what drove him to distrust women so. “I know some things about you,” she blurted hoping confrontation would make him reveal something of himself.

  He gripped her by the arms and pulled her close. “What do you think you know?” His voice was cracked, raw.

  Her stomach dropped at the painful sound. “I’ve heard whispers. I know that you have quite the reputation.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said, his tone flat. “I built that reputation. It was a lot of hard work. Many women lined up to use me, and I let them. Then I turned around and used them in kind.”

  “Why would you do such a thing? Look how unhappy it’s made you.”

  His gaze grew dull. “Does it matter why I did it?”

  “Of course it does,” she cried.

  He released her arm and stepped away from her. “I decided to build that reputation when I learned that the first and only woman I foolishly thought I loved had used me for revenge against my mother, who damn well does not and has never loved me.”

  “Oh, Colin,” she softly, her heart wrenching for him.

  But he gazed through her as if he had not heard her. It was a long moment until he seemed to focus on her again. “I learned several very important lessons in the years I built my reputation. Can you guess what they might be?”

  She shook her head, her throat aching with the need to offer him soothing words, but she knew he would reject the offer.

  “Women do not want love. They crave money, power and a man other than their husbands to satisfy the appetites they aren’t supposed to have.”

  “Is that all you learned?” she asked, her heart thumping in her ears.

  “No. I learned very early on it was better to be numb than to feel a thing. And that’s how a person turns bad, Amelia.”

  “You’re not bad. You’ve helped Constance and Philip and you are kind to Lucy. The woman you thought you loved when you were young hurt you. Don’t you see? You are good.”

  “I’m not.” He shook his head. “Good people can love. I don’t feel that emotion.”

  “You can!”

  “No.” The denial was vehement and revealed his fear.

  “You feel something for me,” she blurted.

  “You’re right. I do. Desire.”

  He crushed his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss. His tongue parted her lips with force and invaded her. She stiffened in his arms. All her life she had imagined her first kiss would be wonderful and from a man who loved her.

  Angry, she pulled back until their contact broke, and she blinked tears from her eyes. “Let me go.” Her voice trembled on the last word.

  “Amelia.” He said her name reverently and gently cupped her face once more. “I’m sorry.” He brushed a light kiss across her forehead. “So sorry.” He kissed her left cheek then her right.

  A pleasant tingle began in her stomach and spread through her body as his lips moved to her neck, leaving her with a heady sensation. He lifted his face to look at her.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His lips recaptured hers, but this time it was slow and thoughtful. The gentle pressure of his mouth against hers increased bit by bit until she thought her frail composure would shatter like glass. She opened her mouth for him and invited him in, wanting the havoc and chaos he created within her. His tongue swirled around her mouth and stoked a delicious fire.

  She pressed up to her tiptoes, yearning for more of what he had to offer. He gave willingly, sucking at her lips and then lower to the hollow of her neck where her pulse beat furiously. After a moment, he pulled away and stepped back. “This is what I’m good at eliciting desire―not love.”

  She wanted to wrap her arms around him and draw him back to her, but she knew he would not allow it. All of his words, clearly so carefully chosen, had an undeniable undercurrent of throbbing, dizzying pain. His pain. She desperately wanted to help him, and she sensed from what he’d said, and what she’d seen at the park, how much pain his belief that his mother didn’t love him caused him. “What makes you think your mother does not love you?”

  “Twenty-five years make me think it,” he said dully.

  She resisted the urge to sigh with exasperation. Men really were difficult at times. “You must have thought she loved you at one time.”

  He simply raised his eyebrows in response.

  “She’s your mother, for goodness sake. Of course she loves you.”

  “One would think, but she does not have the capacity to love.”

  Amelia did huff then. He was so set on this, so stubborn. “Surely she loved your father?”

  He barked with laughter but not the happy sort. No, not at all.

  “If you call having one affair after the other love, then she worshipped my father.”

  A heavy feeling pulled at the pit of Amelia’s stomach. He’d said he’d thought he’d been in love as a young lad, but that the woman had used him for revenge; was it possible that the woman he thought he loved has used him to get revenge on
his mother?

  Amelia’s hand fluttered to her throat, and she swallowed convulsively. “Was the woman you’d thought you loved vengeful toward your mother?”

  “How very perceptive you are,” he said in a flat voice.

  He was putting up defenses. She understood it. Her books had been a defense, a refuge. “And that’s why you became who you were?”

  “Enough, Amelia.” It was a harsh command. “I won’t stand here and bleed for you. No matter if I wanted to tell you everything or not. I cannot― I cannot do it.” He shuddered.

  Maybe he would not tell her everything about his past now, but he was telling her enough to make her sure he could love, and if he could love then perhaps―”

  “Amelia! Aversley?” Philip called, seconds before she saw him striding toward them.

  “Philip, whatever are you doing here? Is Mother with you?”

  He shook his head as he came to stand in front of them. “No. she said she didn’t feel she was quite up to the Season, but she insisted I come to keep an eye on you and to find myself a wife, instead.”

  Colin groaned beside her. She pressed her lips together so as not to remark and focused on Philip. “You are sure she is well enough to be left alone?”

  “She’s hardly alone,” Philip muttered, his face flushing. “Lady Constance and her mother have come every day to visit, and they said they would continue to come each day, twice a day. But Mother did seem better, as if some burden had lessened.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” Amelia said.

  Philip eyed Colin and then her. “So am I to expect Worthington to show up, now that I’m here, and ask for your hand?”

  Amelia shifted from foot to foot. She needed to talk to Philip and explain to him how complicated things had become with her head and heart, especially since his winning the wager balanced on her staying true to her love for Lord Worthington, but she did not want to try to sort out her muddled state of mind in front of Colin.

  “I’m not sure,” she murmured.

  Philip patted her arm, but oddly, he was staring at Colin. “Don’t look so glum,” he said flickering his gaze to her and then back to Colin. “I’m sure you will catch Worthington’s heart and then your future happiness will be set.”

  Before she could think what to say to that, Colin said, “Harthorne, I have some business to attend to. Do you care to come to the club tonight?”

  “Actually,” Philip said, “I think I’ll come with you now. I was thinking, if it’s all right that I’d stay with you while I’m here. Amelia is in good hands, and I have a lot of appointments in Town. Your home is closer.”

  “Certainly,” Colin said with a nod. “We’ll come around to collect you and my aunt tomorrow night for the ball at eight.”

  Philip gave her a pat on the back, and Colin turned on his heel.

  Amelia stood, rather stunned, watching the two men walk away. Philip was not acting himself, but rather strangely sly and elusive, and Colin… He had told her enough that she was certain he could feel love if he could get over his pain. The question was could he get over his pain and open his heart? Until she spoke with Philip―hopefully before tomorrow night―she would go along as planned, though the prospect of boring conversations and the endless fluttering of her eyelashes made her head hurt.

  “Aversley, why do you not go and dance instead of sitting here with us while we gossip?” Colin’s aunt asked loudly. The chatter of his aunt’s two other spinster friends sitting at the table with her stopped abruptly, and a pale-gray gaze and a light-blue one turned to him.

  “I’m fine,” he said and purposely gazed in the other direction so they would quit asking him questions. He was sitting here because he could keep a watchful, albeit tortured, eye on Amelia as she danced with every eager buck that approached her, and he could contemplate what Amelia had said about his mother surely loving him because she was his mother.

  He couldn’t get Amelia’s words out of his head. He’d thought them so many times himself before he’d given up on the notion that his mother even had the ability to feel love. For the first time, in as far back as he could recall, he wanted to speak to her and ask her again why she had treated Father as she had. Would he get a different answer now? Was she hiding something? Father, even in the end, had been sure he shared the fault for her behavior, so could it be that what had happened between them had affected her love for Colin?

  “Aversley, I think you should dance,” his aunt said.

  He turned toward the women and smiled. They had matching curious looks on their faces. “I don’t see anyone I wish to partner with right now,” he replied.

  Lady Chatham raised her wrinkled, bony arm and pointed toward the dance floor where Amelia was being twirled by Belford. “What about that chit? You’ve not taken your eyes off her all night. You watched her when she danced with the Lord Belford the last time and then Lord Shrewsbury and Lord Edington. If you keep sitting here all night she will dance with a man who will steal her right out from under your nose.”

  “Thank you for you concern,” he managed and scooted his chair back. “I believe I need a refreshment.”

  The three women exchanged a knowing glance that rankled Colin before nodding to him. His aunt patted him on the hand. “Come see me in the morning, Aversley. I’d like to talk about the parties you wish for me to attend with Lady Amelia.”

  “Certainly,” Colin replied. He strode toward the punch bowl even though he wasn’t thirsty at all, but he was not going to sit around while his aunt and her friend’s tried to delve into his personal life. He grabbed a glass of punch while greeting a few people he knew and then discretely headed for the potted plants toward the back of the ballroom. He found Amelia in the crowd and resumed his vigil of keeping her in his sights. The azure gown with the encrusted pearls suited her to perfection. With her light hair and creamy skin, she looked ethereal. She certainly seemed from a different world than the one he knew―to good to be true. So, surely, it wasn’t true. She wasn’t as perfect as she seemed. He glanced down into his pink punch and absently took a drink then frowned in distaste, swirling the liquid in the cup.

  Yet, what if she was exactly what she seemed? Honest. True. And full of love. If she didn’t change during the Season, yet realized Worthington was not worthy of her love, she would still need a husband and Philip’s debts would still need to somehow be paid. Colin raked a hand through his hair, uncertainty strumming through him. Could he be the sort of man she wanted? The ability to open himself up to loving someone seemed impossible. Daunting. Yet…

  “There you are,” Harthorne said and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “I should have looked in the shadows instead of among the people. Sorry I’m late. I’ve been detained all day with business.”

  “You’ve not missed much,” Colin said.

  Harthorne frowned. “I’ve decided you may be right about women. I was just forced to dance with a chit who made it plain she would never marry a man whose fortune did not at least match hers.”

  “I’m sorry to be right,” Colin said, trying to shake his distraction and focus on his friend.

  Harthorne grinned. “I did receive two very lurid offers from widows, however, which made the prospect of turning jaded seem more desirable.”

  Colin stiffened and shrugged Harthorne’s hand off his shoulder.

  Harthorne’s face drained of color. “Damnation, Aversley. I’m sorry. I’m not used to you being touchy, but all the same, that was foolish thing for me to say.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Colin said and motioned to the dance floor. “Lady Amelia appears to be having a grand time.”

  “Where is she?” Harthorne asked, peering into the crowd.

  “She’s there.” Colin pointed but was surprised not to see her any longer. His pulse increased a notch as he quickly scanned the perimeter of the room and swept his gaze over the dancers once more. “She was just there. Do you see her yet?”

  “She probably needed air. I’ll check the terra
ce, and you comb through the room.”

  Colin nodded. “If she’s not on the terrace, check the gardens. If I were trying to seduce a lady that’s one of the places I’d take her. It’s secluded.”

  Harthorne’s eyes bulged. “I’m sure you won’t discover her there.”

  “I better not,” Colin growled. “I won’t be held accountable for what I do to any man who has attempted to seduce Amelia.”

  Throwing a wary glance over her shoulder, Amelia scurried down the dark hall and away from the hum of conversation and bright chandeliers of the ballroom. She stopped in front of moonlit room that appeared unoccupied. With care, she pushed the door all the way open and poked her head into the shadowy room. The smell of leather and musty paper filled her nose. The library! Perfect. She scurried into the room and fell into a weary heap on the settee.

  Her temples were pounding from thinking on inane topics to converse upon, and her cheeks ached from hours of false smiles. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. Slight guilt nagged at her for dashing out of the ballroom when Lord Shrewsbury had gone to get her punch, but not enough remorse that she was going to go back anytime soon. It wasn’t just Lord Shrewsbury she was hiding from; it was every gentleman she had danced with tonight.

  They seemed all the same, talking nonstop of themselves, their wealth and what they expected from a wife, yet she knew they could not all be exactly the same. She also knew they were not Colin. None of those men made her feel perfectly comfortable just being herself. None of them had Colin’s sharp wit or his ready, beautiful smile. She would bet the gown off her back that none of them shared her love for flowers as Colin did, either. There was, of course, no way to know, because not one of the gentlemen had asked her about herself.

  Colin had been asking her about herself since the moment he’d met her. With a start, she realized none of her thoughts were for Charles. She forced herself to think on him. He may or may not have rescued her that day on the horse. She was so uncertain now. He had stood up for her to his friends, but according to Constance only because Constance had shamed him into action. He had most definitely discussed books with her many times, and with great passion and he had called her agile. Maybe Charles had simply felt sorry for her, because truth be told she was not that agile, except when Colin was leading her.