The Perfect Duke

by Ireland, Dawn

  Cara smiled back at Timmons in spite of her heavy heart. Garret didn’t strike her as the kind of man who tired easily.

  Garret laid aside his fork as his sister burst into the cheery breakfast room. Her determined gaze focused on him with an uncomfortable intensity.

  “You’re going to have to tell Cara or she’ll never marry you. I don’t know how you can keep—”

  Mrs. Shaw’s plate of eggs clattered to the table and Timmons raised his head from his clothing list. They both stared at his sister as if she’d grown another set of arms.

  Apprehension crossed Mallory’s face first, followed by an expression of such defiance that Garret cringed.

  “Well, why shouldn’t they know?” She faced the servants. “My brother has proposed to Miss McClure, but she has declined.”

  Mrs. Shaw covered the platter with its silver dome. “And rightly so.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Who ever heard of a governess marryin’ a duke? A woman shouldn’t set her sights on a man above her station.”

  An odd expression crossed Timmons’ face. He started to open his mouth, but Mrs. Shaw’s unexpected tirade continued. “She knows her place, our Miss McClure.”

  Mallory squared off with the cook, her hands on her hips. “Why shouldn’t people marry if they love one another?”

  “Love. That’s a fool notion. Once they’d married, they’d always have to deal with other people. There’d be whispers. No one would ever treat them the same way as before.”

  Mallory leaned forward and spoke in a slow, deliberate voice. “It shouldn’t matter what other people believe.”

  “You say that, but I’m thinking it’s no way to spend your life. I’ve managed all these years and there’s no reason to change now.”

  “You?” Mallory tilted her head. “What has any of this got to do with you?”

  If it hadn’t been for Cara’s hints, he might have been as confused as his sister. He watched Timmons, whose coloring now matched his pale grey wig.

  His valet stepped forward, a steely glint in his eye. “You told me you wouldn’t marry me because of something that couldn’t be changed.”

  Mallory looked from one to the other. “You’d asked her to marry you?”

  Mrs. Shaw took a step back. “As His Grace’s valet, you shouldn’t be interested in a cook. I know my place.”

  Timmons advanced on her. “Your ‘place’ is as my wife. When you refused, you led me to believe it was something about my person.”

  She blushed. “Your ‘person’ is just fine. I didn’t know what else to say.”

  “So you lied to me?”

  “No. I’d never be doing that, but you didn’t hear the whispered remarks, the laughter when we entered a room. I couldn’t live that way.”

  He moved closer and Garret didn’t think he’d ever seen tenderness on his valet’s face prior to this moment.

  With long, thin fingers he tucked one of her curls back under her mop cap. “Have the last few years been any easier? I’d rather listen to a room filled with laughter than to spend another day without you.”

  Mrs. Shaw opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She turned to each of them, her face red, tears glistening in her eyes. With a whimpering sound, she picked up her skirts and fled.

  Timmons faced Garret. “Your Grace, I’m afraid I’ve done you a disservice.”

  “How so?”

  His valet appeared somewhat abashed. “I had no idea your intentions toward Miss McClure were . . . honorable. I’m afraid I suggested she avoid you.”

  “There’s no harm done.” Garret forced himself to remain calm despite the surge of anger threatening to overwhelm him. Timmons had only done what he thought was right. “She’s been trying to do that anyway.” He glanced at the open door. “Let’s hope we both fare better in our pursuits.”

  Timmons gave him a small bow. “If I may be excused, Your Grace. I’ve something to attend to.”

  “By all means.”

  He exited, and Garret turned his attention to Mallory. His sister still wore a dumbfounded expression. “If it hadn’t been for Cara, I would have been just as surprised as you.”

  “This has been going on for years? How could I have missed it?” She placed a couple of sausages onto a plate and joined him at the table.

  “At least I’m not the only one who has been oblivious to their surroundings. Cara seems to have opened all our eyes.” He might as well bring the conversation back to his stubborn governess. Knowing Mallory, she would bring it up anyway and he’d rather have the conversation sooner than later.

  “Yes, she has. And Cara’s the reason I’m here. You have to tell her the truth.”

  He sighed and sat back in his chair. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m a coward.” He rubbed the scar on his chin. “I’ve been one most of my life. If I’d been brave, I would have stood up to Grandfather instead of wallowing in self-pity.” He met Mallory’s gaze. “Even now, I can’t face Cara’s hatred in order to do the right thing. She’d run back to the Pembertons and I’d lose her for good.”

  “You can’t be sure.”

  “Can you promise she wouldn’t? Family is very important to her.” He shoved his plate toward the center of the table and threw his napkin on top of his half-finished meal. “If only she’d marry me. Then the Pembertons would lose their control over her.”

  “She may still hate you.”

  “True.” He smiled and made a flourish with his hand. “But I can be very charming, and we’d have years to work things out.”

  Mallory made a face at him. “You. Charming? I think not, Your Grace.”

  How long had it been since they’d teased each other? Something else to thank Cara for. He stood. “It doesn’t matter. She’s taken to arranging things so I never have any time alone with her.

  His sister’s lips turned up on the corners and there was a devilish light in her eyes. Mallory had come up with one of her schemes. God help the man who took her to wife. “I have an idea.”

  He knew he was going to regret this, but he was all out of options.

  Cara rubbed her temples. The real headache she’d developed seemed like just punishment for pretending to be ill the last couple of days. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her eyelids. She couldn’t continue this ruse, but how else could she avoid Garret’s early morning rides?

  The urgent rapping on her bedroom door brought her to attention.

  “Miss McClure, Cara, come quick. I think he could hurt her.”

  “Lady Mallory?” She hurried to the door and threw it open. “What’s happened?”

  Garret’s sister stood in the doorway ringing her hands. “It’s Rachel. She simply went into his conservatory because she was curious.”

  Apprehension rushed through Cara. Garret wouldn’t hurt his niece. Would he? He’d been so kind to her since they’d returned. “Where are they?”

  Mallory grabbed her hand and started dragging her along the hallway. “They’re still there. I tried reasoning with him, but I’ve never seen him this way.”

  She wrenched herself free of Mallory’s grasp, then picked up her skirts and started running toward the conservatory. More than likely Garret was taking his anger for her out on Rachel. If Garret unfairly punished his niece now, she might well never come to trust him.

  Heart pounding, she turned several corners with Garret’s sister a few steps ahead. They reached the entrance she remembered so well. Mallory opened the door and Cara rushed into the room.

  The bright morning sun caused her to squint as the rich smell of damp earth surrounded her. Before her eyes could adjust, the sound of a key being turned in a lock caused her to whirl around.

  Mallory was not behind her. She retraced her steps to the worn wooden door and tried the knob. Locked.

  Garret’s low voice filled the space. “I apologize for the deception.”

  She started, even though a part of her knew he was there. She
’d always know when he was in a room. Why hadn’t she gone with her instinct? Garret would never hurt Rachel. Reluctantly, she turned to face him.

  He stood in a shaft of sunlight, dressed as he had been in London. His glorious hair unbound, glinting golden in the sunlight. Her heart felt squeezed by the tightening in her chest. “You have to let me go.”

  It came out as more of a plea. She couldn’t stay here, alone in this room with him. Memories of the last time she’d been here beat at her. Then, he’d taken a simple kiss, but now she knew what could be between them. It took all her will not to throw herself in his arms.

  He moved closer, brushing by the green leaves in his path, an expression of determination on his face. “I needed to speak with you. Alone. And as you’ve been unavailable the last couple of days, I resorted to this.”

  “You could have ordered me to join you.” She pressed her back against the door.

  “I could have.” He stepped so close she could feel his warm breath on her face. “But I didn’t want that between us.”

  He traced the edge of her hairline with his fingertips, then cupped her cheek.

  She wrenched away from his hand, slipped beneath his arm, and moved several steps into the room. Tropical plants festooned with vivid flowers encircled her. The glass walls gave the illusion of freedom, but she knew from past experience that Garret stood in front of the only exit.

  How she longed to hide amongst the lush greenery. But he’d find her, eventually. Better to face him now. Force him to release her. She turned toward him.

  He was leaning against the door, arms folded, the hint of a smile on his angular features. “I simply want to make you see reason.” With his foot, he shoved away from the door, straightened, then held his hand out to her. “We belong together. What others think is of no relevance.” As though trying to coax a wayward pet to his side, he stepped forward, his hand still outstretched.

  “Don’t come any closer.” She’d wanted to sound commanding, but her words had a definite edge of panic. Why did he have to be dressed as he had in London? Here, in this room filled with flowers, he could be any man trying to court his sweetheart.

  But he wasn’t any man. She slowed her breathing. The larger gulps of air seemed to steady her. He was a duke. And he wanted to marry her. The irony of the situation almost made her laugh—or cry. She’d wanted to be this man’s wife ever since she could remember. “I can’t marry you. Won’t you stop torturing me?”

  That pulled him up short. “It is not my intention to torture you.” He lowered his hand. “But can’t you see? You’re torturing both of us.”

  He’d not told her he loved her. Did he care that much, or was she simply the unattainable? She’d hoped for, yet feared his love. Would he, too, feel the pain of their parting?

  Cara suddenly felt small. She’d been so concerned with her feelings she hadn’t considered his. If he truly did love her, he must be suffering as well. “I don’t mean to cause you pain. But one of us has to think clearly. If we could stay trapped in your glass tower, I’d marry you and be the happiest woman alive.”

  She reached out and plucked a multi-petaled white flower from its vine. The soft petals tickled her nose as she inhaled the sweet fragrance, then she held it out to him. “But just as this flower holds beauty now, it will soon whither and die. That’s what will happen to our relationship once the outside world intrudes.”

  “It won’t.”

  He said it with such earnestness, she almost believed him. She wanted to believe.

  Before she realized his intention, he came forward, then slid a key from his pocket. “One kiss. That’s all I’m asking.” He reached out with his other hand and placed his fingertip on her bottom lip. “One kiss, and I’ll give you the key.”

  Her breathing increased and she fought the urge to draw his finger into her mouth. The knowing expression on his face told her he suspected what she wanted to do. He rubbed the pad of his finger along the moist inner edge of her lip. She struggled to maintain control.

  Would it be so wrong to kiss him, just once more? A nod was all she could manage.

  A flash of intense desire crossed his face before his lips possessed hers. In that instant, she knew she’d made a mistake. His kiss claimed her, branding her as his, in ways she suspected it would take years to understand.

  With gentle pressure his mouth slid across hers, coaxing her to open for him, melding them into something new. Two halves, at last whole and for this moment in time. Perfect. She trembled, her body pliant against his muscular chest.

  He tightened his hold on her, then broke the kiss and buried his head at a spot below her ear. His tongue swirled in little circular patterns over her sensitive skin, sending shivers up her spine. She gasped and tried to remember how to breathe. Longing pummeled her, creating an ache in her soul. It wasn’t fair that the one man who knew how to bring her body to life was the one man she couldn’t have.

  Couldn’t have. Desire dulled enough for her to shove him away. She gazed at the crushed flower in her hand, then back at him, before she let the bloom fall to the floor. “The key . . . Please.”

  He raked a hand through his hair, then turned away from her. “As you wish.” His broad shoulders straightened, but his deep voice sounded uneven, as if he were struggling for control. At last he swung around to fix her with his compelling gaze. “This is not the end of it. I expect you for our morning rides and if that means coming to your bedroom to get you myself, all the better.”

  He held out the key and she snatched it from him, avoiding contact. With as much dignity as she could muster, she slipped around him, then scurried to the door. After several attempts, she fit the key into the lock.

  With her bottom lip clenched tight between her teeth, she managed to hold back the tears as she ran from the bright conservatory and into the dimness of the hall.

  She glanced back. Garret stood silhouetted in the doorway, one hand resting against the doorjamb. The very air around him seemed to radiate frustration.

  He wouldn’t give up. She knew that now. He was pursuing her with the same single-mindedness that had made him such an exemplary duke.

  There was only one way she could ever convince him to leave her alone. He would have to hate her.

  What could she ever say or do to that end? And if she did think of something, would she be able to live with the consequences?

  Cara looked up from her list of assigned readings as Tess swept through the doorway. She smiled at the momentary pause her friend took after entering. There had never been a time when Tess hadn’t “made an entrance.”

  “What are you doing here?” Cara hadn’t intended that to sound so abrupt. “I mean, you’re never up before noon and it’s only eleven.” She crumpled the corner of the paper in her grasp. “Is there anything wrong with Papa?”

  “He’s fine. I simply promised I’d meet a certain ‘friend’ in this area, so I thought I’d call.”

  Cara relaxed. She’d intended to visit Tess today. Surely her friend could help her come up with a plan to make Garret hate her.

  Tess settled in a high-backed chair opposite Cara, arranging the countless flounces of her pale yellow silk dress. “You really shouldn’t hide yourself away in this big old place. I almost didn’t find you. That nice Mr. Timmons directed me.”

  Cara almost choked. “Nice?”

  “He was ever so pleasant. I had no idea he was interested in theatre.”

  “Neither did I.” Cara managed to squeak out the reply without laughing. What would Tess say if she’d seen his reaction to actresses only days ago?

  “Regardless, I’m here.” Tess studied her surroundings then wrinkled her nose. “This room feels rather like your sitting area at home. Though there is entirely too much greenery.”

  Odd, Tess never commented on décor. Cara gave a small shrug. “I rather enjoy the plants.” Although she had to admit her fondness for them seemed to have developed recently. They reminded her of another room—and a certa
in duke.

  “Tess, I need your advice about something.” Cara could feel the warmth in her face. “If you wanted to . . . discourage a man, what would you do?”

  “Usually, I ignore him and show pointed interest in someone else. After a time, he’ll lose interest.”

  “But what if you can’t ignore him? What if he owned the theatre where you were performing?”

  Tess stopped adjusting her ruffles and rested her hands in her lap. “Then my response would depend on whether I really wanted him to be dissuaded.” Her voice gentled. “Do you truly want the duke to stop pursuing you or are you simply afraid?”

  “I’m not afraid.” Perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. She was afraid, but not of his attentions. The thought of him coming to hate her caused such pain that she wasn’t at all sure she could handle the reality. But at least he’d hate her now, and not after he’d tied himself to her, destroying the life he’d worked so hard to attain. “I have to do this. For him—us.”

  Tess stared at Cara. “You don’t love him?”

  “I never said that.” She’d never stop loving him.

  “I see.” Tess sat forward. “Perhaps you only think you’re in love with him. I’d leave. Now, while you still can.”

  “And what would that accomplish?” She couldn’t just leave. He’d come after her. She tried to ignore her elation at that thought.

  Tess got up. With her mouth drawn in a straight line, she crossed to the Queen Anne table that stood by the bay window. She ran her fingertip over the Belgian-lace tablecloth, tracing the pattern as if it fascinated her. Suddenly she paused, took a deep breath, and faced her. The smile on her friend’s face appeared way too cheery. A tinge of unease swept over Cara.

  “How about some tarts? From what I remember your cook makes fabulous tarts.”

  Now Cara knew something was wrong. “Eating is not going to make the problem go away.” She put her stack of papers on a side table and rose. Tess had been acting strange ever since she arrived, but Cara had been so wrapped up in what to do about Garret she hadn’t really given her actions much thought. “You came here to tell me something. Didn’t you?”