The Desires of a Duke: Historical Romance Collection

by Darcy Burke

  Luci shuddered to think she’d caused some of that burden with her piece in the Gazette.

  “My lady?” the butler asked when she remained on the stoop. “This way, please.”

  Putting Roderick from her mind, Luci entered the foyer, surprised by the many candles lighting the area. It was certainly a waste of coins to burn this amount of wax on a daily basis.

  The servant shuffled, his feet never actually leaving the floor as he walked across the foyer and opened the room to a similarly lit salon. Upon entering, Luci was pleased to see the drapes were open, and a clear view of Lord Torrington’s father’s townhouse was in sight.

  “I will let Lord Abercorn know of your presence. His Grace will be with you momentarily.” He bowed stiffly as the women glanced about the room. “I will ring for tea. Do have a seat.”

  He pulled the door closed on well-oiled hinges, leaving Luci to inspect the room as Edith hurried to the window and waved in Torrington’s and Roderick’s direction.

  The salon was decorated in bold shades of yellow and blue, complete with striped drapes, polka dot pillows, and matching plaid lounge and stuffed chairs. The obnoxious sight had Luci’s head swirling at the odd pattern contrast and color combination. Upon closer inspection, the pieces in the room, including the tables, lamps, and wing-backed chairs close to the hearth appeared fairly dated. Even the pillow on the lounge was frayed at the edges.

  This room had been appointed long ago, likely before Abercorn was out of the schoolroom.

  Edith and Ophelia selected a low-slung sofa in sight of the large, arched window, remaining visible to the men outside, while Luci continued to stand. She was unsure why, but something told her standing was the best way to face the opposition.

  And Abercorn was most certainly their opponent.

  Luci would not allow herself to be fooled into a false sense of security based on her friends being near and Roderick being just outside the window. That was exactly what had happened to Tilda. The duke had presented himself as an honorable, kind, and worthy lord when he held none of those traits.

  If she were utterly honest, the man might have duped any of them into marriage.

  A shiver went down her spine to think it could have been her lying at the bottom of those stairs—or Ophelia, who would have been even less likely to defend herself than Tilda.

  No, Abercorn would not remain free to harm another woman, especially Luci.

  She would take Lord Torrington’s suggestion and run off to Gretna Green before she’d allow her name to be forever linked to Abercorn. Though wasn’t it already? She’d caused the scene at the duke’s country manor, demanding the magistrate investigate Tilda’s fall and pointing the finger at her friend’s new husband.

  Luci crossed her arms in defiance. She would sound the alarm again without a second thought—only this time, she would protest louder…and longer. Until Abercorn was removed from polite society and never given another opportunity to harm someone.

  Tears stung her eyes.

  Poor Tilda.

  Again, they should have noted something not quite right about her bridegroom.

  But Luci hadn’t…and her friend had suffered the consequences.

  “Lady Lucianna, my dear. What a charming surprise.”

  She pivoted in time to see Abercorn enter the room and close the door behind himself.

  “And Ladies Edith and Ophelia?” He paused, his stare widening on the women sitting close to the window. “I must say, this is very unexpected—but in a good way, nonetheless.”

  “Your Grace,” Luci said, dipping into a curtsey. “My father spoke of your betrothal offer, and I thought it time I pay you a social visit.”

  Both Edith and Ophelia sprang to their feet and dipped low in greeting. Luci couldn’t help but notice the duke’s eyes stray to Edith’s bosom as she curtseyed.

  “No matter the reason.” He waved his hand, dismissing her words. “It is a pleasure to have you all in my home. I know there is much in our past; however, I am certain it can all be discussed with time—and a measure of patience. Please, do have a seat.”

  Edith and Ophelia looked to Luci with hesitation, but she nodded, and the pair regained their seats by the window. She noted Edith glance toward Torrington with a weak smile. Blessedly, Abercorn seemed preoccupied and didn’t appear to notice Edith’s fascination with the landscape beyond the windowpane.

  Luci followed suit and sat upon the lounge, facing her friends and hoping the duke would take the seat across from her. That would put his back to the window and allow her friends’ attention to go unnoticed.

  She crossed her feet at the ankles and arranged her skirts, biding some time before it became necessary to speak. The cushion crackled with disuse beneath her when she shifted to tuck her feet under the lounge.

  “Your home…” Luci paused, debating how to continue. She was loath to insult Abercorn before he’d even begun speaking. “It is very antiquated.”

  Outdated and in need of renovation was what she’d been thinking; however, antiquated was the best she could do.

  “Yes, well,” Abercorn sighed. “My mother renovated this townhouse, selecting every piece from the wall sconces to the rugs, even hand-stitching the pillows in this room, and I am hesitant to undo all her hard work.” He glanced around the room, obviously attached to the yellow and royal blue trimmings with many years of fond memories. Finally, he returned to the present. “Of course, once I take a wife, she will have control over the entire household, and an unlimited purse to make any changes she deems necessary to make this her home.”

  Abercorn sat a bit straighter in his chair as if expecting her to applaud his generosity and kind nature. His lips pulled back in a wide grin, showing off his stained teeth, yellowed almost to match the furniture his mother had selected decades before. Could she have guessed what the man would be reduced to in his old age?

  “It would please me greatly if you’d accept my courtship, Lady Lucianna—or may I call you Lucianna? Mayhap Luci, as Tilda was fond of calling you?” The man appeared a hound waiting for a well-deserved treat.

  A pain stabbed deep at her middle, as if the man had used his words to stake her. The duke did not deserve to utter Tilda’s name—not today and not ever.

  Abercorn would receive no reward from her. “Lady Lucianna will do fine.”

  “Very well, but you have leave to call me Francis.” Reclining in his seat, the duke glanced at the door. “My apologies for my staff’s inadequacies. I thought tea would have been delivered long before now. You all must be parched.” He stood, pulling the servants’ bell cord several times. “Another item my wife will be charged with rectifying.”

  “Tea is not necessary, Your Grace,” Ophelia chimed in from her seat by the window.

  “Of course, tea is necessary, far more than that, it is expected.” He tugged at the cord several more times before returning to his seat, avoiding her wrinkled nose and pinched lips. “It will not be long now.”

  The charade was wearing thin on Luci, and the tension was growing thick—it seemed only Abercorn hadn’t noticed the unease in the room.

  “Lord Abercorn, may I speak freely?”

  He broke eye contact as he smoothed his necktie with a chuckle. “Lady Lucianna, England has known several female monarchs. No matter what the colonists spout, our country is a progressive state. Women have the right to speak of what they wish, just as men, especially with a man who—with luck—will one day be your husband.”

  Edith burst into laughter, drawing Abercorn’s attention as if he’d been so absorbed with Luci he’d failed to remember they were not alone.

  At Luci’s scowl, Edith clamped her mouth shut and stared at her lap, but her blonde curls bobbed with silent mirth.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Luci said with a grin, luring the duke’s attention back to her. “It is only I wonder why you seek to wed me.”

  His expression grew pensive as if even he hadn’t thought about why he desired to court his dea
d wife’s best friend. Rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced at the door once more, but there would be no reprieve from her question.

  The door remained solidly shut.

  And her question hung openly between them.

  “You see, while Tilda and I were very close, we are also exceedingly different people.” Luci couldn’t help but acknowledge the many dissimilarities between them. Tilda was sweet, caring, and compassionate—a true English rose of pure innocence. In contrast, Lucianna was, admittedly, jaded, cynical, and not the least bit demure. Not to mention, Luci’s insistence that he had pushed his new wife to her death. But all Luci could verbalize was, “She was petite with hair of the softest brown and eyes that matched, while I…well, we can all see I am nothing like Tilda with my midnight locks and moss-green eyes.”

  It was almost insulting to both women to reduce their differences to the purely physical—meaningless, skin-deep, external attributes.

  The duke cleared his throat, the direction of the conversation causing a gleam of perspiration to break out across his forehead. “It is, well, that is a rather difficult question to answer; however, I will endeavor to do my best.” His hand twitched, and he reached out to smooth the fringe on the side of his seat.

  “It is not a difficult question at all, Your Grace.” She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back further comment.

  “You are quite stunning in a dark, exotic way. Also, well-connected with the grace and poise I seek in my future wife and duchess,” Abercorn declared with a satisfied grin, as if comparing her to a bird trapped in a gilded cage was a future any women would seek out. “You are witty, intelligent, and possess a strong will I admire greatly. We would make a fine match—the marriage-minded mothers will be envious of your ability to catch a duke, as it were.”

  Luci swallowed back a smart retort. The man certainly was daft if he thought she would pay any mind to his flowery words.

  A fine match, indeed.

  She forced an innocent smile, relishing the spark of unease that lit his face.

  Chapter 14

  Roderick leaned against the three-story townhouse at his back and crossed his arms, keeping his stare on Lucianna through the window. Lady Edith and Lady Ophelia sat close to the arched panes, hardly taking their focus off Roderick and Torrington.

  The sun was high overhead, the eaves from Torrington’s family home shielding them from the harsh heat of noonday. He took his eyes off Lucianna perched on the lounge in Abercorn’s home for a brief moment to take in the bright blue sky above. Since their morning sparring match at Bentley’s, not a single rain cloud had dared cross the London landscape—this fact had not escaped his notice.

  “We never should have agreed to allow them anywhere near Abercorn without us present.” Torrington sighed heavily, pacing in the shadows of his father’s townhouse. “Anything could happen before we are able to get to them.”

  While nervous, Roderick was confident in Lucianna’s ability to care for herself. The blasted woman had bested him with a foil and survived all these years under the control of Camden. She was no demure, fragile creature.

  However, Torrington’s lovesick, puppy dog demeanor, fretting over Lady Edith’s decision to accompany Lucianna and Lady Ophelia into the duke’s townhouse was fast growing cumbersome and annoying.

  “If it would make you feel better, you are welcome to press your nose to the windowpane, mayhap you will even hear a bit of the conversation,” Roderick jested. “Oh, and you can look upon Lady Edith with your smitten stares of affection.”

  He half expected the man to round on him and throw a fist at his face, but instead, he chuckled, breaking the tension that had stiffened his shoulders. “Is it so apparent?”

  “Is what so apparent?”

  “That I can hardly take my eyes off her for a moment.”

  “Only to anyone blessed with sight.” Roderick wanted to reach out and halt the man’s pacing, but instead, he turned back toward the window.

  “This is not a normal occurrence for me, I assure you,” Torrington gushed, turning once more. His feet trampled the vegetation as he continued his stalking. “It took nearly losing the bloody woman for me to realize I’d fallen unequivocally in love with her.”

  “So you mentioned.” Roderick casually pushed away from the wall, attempting to hide his interest in the direction of their conversation. “What happened?”

  The question halted Torrington mid-stride. “Lady Lucianna did not tell you?”

  He shook his head.

  “You did not read of it in the Gazette?” Torrington’s brow rose in question.

  “If I had, I now know not to believe a word of it,” Roderick said with a shrug. “Likely, Lady Lucianna did not see it as her place to share.”

  Roderick was loath to admit that, in fact, they’d had scarce moments alone to discuss anything more serious than the matters transpiring between them.

  “My father’s wife kidnapped Edith and absconded with her to her family’s Southend home, determined to toss us both over the cliffs to our deaths.”

  He waited for Torrington to laugh at his joke, but his expression remained serious.

  “Your mother did—“

  “Not my mother,” he corrected. “My father’s third wife.”

  “Why in heaven’s name would anyone wish to harm Lady Edith?” Roderick inquired, suddenly feeling the need to pace himself.

  “She thought Edith and I had spied her with her lover,” Torrington turned his attention back to the window—and Lady Edith’s copper stare—and Roderick feared the man would fall silent, but he continued. “But, with Lady Lucianna’s and Lady Ophelia’s assistance, I rescued her…and then Lady Lucianna rescued all of us from scandal with her story about a carriage accident and my gallant appearance to save them from a night stranded along a deserted country road.”

  “What happened to your stepmother?”

  “Oh, she has since retired to the country and will never cause Edith harm again.”

  “I would suspect her lover has noticed her disappearance,” Roderick prodded.

  When Torrington didn’t immediately answer, Roderick turned toward him, fearful he’d insulted or angered the man, but Torrington only nodded to the window. “It doesn’t appear as if Lord Abercorn is pining away for his lost lover.”

  “Abercorn?” Roderick didn’t even attempt to suppress his shock. “Your stepmother’s lover was Abercorn?”

  “Afraid so,” Torrington nodded in confirmation. “And to make matters even more scandalous, my stepmother, Esmee, was once my betrothed…until she took a liking to my father’s title and decided not to wed me and wait to become a marchioness instead.”

  “And I thought society eyed me with concern,” Roderick mused. “If I keep you by my side, I never have to fear they are staring at me.”

  Their chuckles were cut short by a loud crash and two female screams.

  “Bloody hell!” Torrington shot into action, not pausing a single second to see if they could deduce what had caused the commotion. He was already running toward Abercorn’s front door—with Roderick close behind.

  Within a few yards, Roderick passed Torrington, his feet pounding down Abercorn’s cobbled drive. It didn’t matter who saw him thundering toward Abercorn’s door.

  They’d taken their focus off the women for only the blink of an eye.

  And something had gone seriously wrong.

  Roderick didn’t bother to knock or await the butler’s answer. He gasped the door latch and pushed. Thankfully, the door was unlocked, or Abercorn would have returned to the foyer to see a splintered, used piece of wood that could no longer be confused as a door.

  The entrance was dripping with candles, and the sconces were lit along the three halls Roderick glanced down. It was a bit odd for only an afternoon social call. Even the chandelier above held the maximum candles, glowing brightly and gleaming off the polished floor.

  “What are you waiting for?” Torrington shouted, knocking Roderick
on the shoulder when he continued into the foyer and turned left toward the salon the women had been shown to. “They are this way.”

  Bloody hell, but Roderick knew which direction Lucianna was in. Even if he hadn’t been watching from outside, he was drawn to her. Her very essence called to him. She was a siren—his very own siren.

  Torrington flung one door open, but the room was empty.

  Roderick hurried past the man and opened the next door with a bit less force.

  “Lucianna?” Roderick stepped into the room, taking in the sight surrounding him.

  Lucianna still sat on the lounge, but Lady Edith stood near the window, her hands clutching at her throat. Lady Ophelia trembled, eyes wide as she fanned her face, the color having drained from it. But he didn’t spy Lord Abercorn as his narrowed stare surveyed the room—though it was possible the offensive color scheme played tricks on his eyesight.

  “What is going on?” Abercorn called gruffly, his head popping up from behind the lounge Lucianna sat upon. “Why, I never—“

  “I can ask you the same thing, Lord Abercorn,” Roderick thundered, the tone so deep and menacing it shook the portraits on the walls. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Lady Edith stepped hesitantly around Abercorn as he struggled to push himself to his feet, and she hurried to Torrington’s side. They began to whisper between one another, but Roderick couldn’t take his attention off Abercorn. The man was dangerous, Roderick was certain of it.

  He was at Lady Lucianna’s side within the blink of an eye, and he took her hand, pulling her to her feet and dragging her into his arms. “Is everything as it should be? I was so worried.”

  “I am well, Roderick, I promise.”

  He could barely hear her words over the thrashing of his pulse, but he pulled her tighter to him, his embrace only softening when she pulled away to stare over his shoulder.