Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novel

by Megan Frampton

  “Inside,” he said to Edwina, who was just standing in the courtyard, blinking away tears. “The sooner we get home, the sooner we can retrieve Gertrude from the loathsome toad.”

  “Is that his name?” she asked, taking his hand and stepping up into the carriage.

  Michael turned to one of the footmen who was standing nearby. “Have the second coach follow as soon as possible.” The man nodded and dashed off, presumably to convey his orders. He leaped into the carriage, gathering Edwina into his embrace and drawing her head down into his chest. “It will be fine. There is nothing we can’t handle.”

  She raised her head and looked at him, her dark eyes full of hurt. “That’s why he did it, you know that. He wouldn’t have bothered if it was just me, and we were still on our own. But now,” she said, biting her lip as she spoke, “now he probably thinks you’ll do something to help me get her back.”

  “And I will do anything to get her back. Is that wrong?” What was the point of being him if he couldn’t use his power and wealth to get what he wanted?

  Her breath came out in a short burst. “No, I don’t want you to. That is, I do want you to, but I don’t want him to have that kind of leverage. I’m not blaming you for it,” which made his chest hurt less, because it had seemed as though she were holding him to blame, “but it just points out how our, how this”—she gesticulated between the two of them—“cannot continue.”

  Now he hurt even more. And he wanted to roar at her, to tell her that it absolutely could continue, they would retrieve Gertrude, and come to an understanding about what this was, and he would enjoy sexual relations with her at night while she worked with him during the day. He failed to see what her objection could be, beyond propriety. And they’d already dispensed with that over the past few days, and with some discretion, no one would be the wiser.

  “Let’s just get Gertrude back, and then we’ll talk about everything,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. Since he didn’t have any experience using one.

  She paused, withdrawing from his arms. He felt suddenly bereft, and had to squelch the urge to tug her back. He did not have urges, usually, and he knew she would resist him anyway.

  He hated how that made him feel. That it made him feel at all, actually. But he had to acknowledge that it appeared she’d unlocked a previously unknown treasure chest of feelings, all of which wanted to tumble out in a rush of emotion.

  “I won’t change my mind,” she said in a low, firm voice. “But we can talk about it later, after Gertrude is back.”

  The trip back to London was so much worse than she could have imagined. Not just because she was worried about Gertrude, and just what her brother-in-law would demand for her return, but because this was it. Their affair was over, her heart was, if not broken, deeply bruised, and she would still have to deal with what she knew would be his stubbornness about accepting her decision.

  She had hoped to have a few more days in his arms, in his bed, being able to glance across the table at him in the morning and think about what they had done the night before. Shared a few glances as they worked through his correspondence.

  She didn’t have any concern that things would be awkward—at least not for him—when he finally accepted the change. He valued her and her work, and he wouldn’t let a minor thing like a romantic indiscretion interfere.

  There was something to be said for being as remote as he was; there was no chance his heart was involved. Yes, there were other parts of him that would likely be upset about the change in their relationship, but he could find someone else for that outlet.

  God, what if he set up a mistress? And she had to track the expenses, settle the rent, or see the bills that came in from jewelers and dressmakers?

  You are getting ahead of yourself, Edwina. But still. It was a possibility she had to consider. He would no doubt say the same thing, if she were to ask him, because to him, planning and forethought were the only sensible things to do when considering a future situation.

  “What are you thinking about?” His words interrupted her rising panic.

  She couldn’t answer honestly. Something he would likely be able to discern, which would perhaps make him want to end things with her, since he valued honesty above all things.

  “I—nothing,” she said, turning to look out the carriage window.

  “We’ll get her safe home again,” he said in a nearly tender tone of voice. It almost made her cry, and rage against the injustice of it all—that she had found someone she loved, but she had to be the strong one and break it off—it just didn’t seem fair.

  But then again, life wasn’t fair, was it? If it was fair, she wouldn’t have been married to Mr. Cheltam, a man who only wanted her for her looks. She wouldn’t have been left destitute at his not-very-mourned-by-her death. She wouldn’t have the misfortune to have gained employment with an impossibly handsome, ridiculously intelligent gentleman who also spoke so—so compellingly in the bedroom.

  Why couldn’t she have found work with some older balding man with gas who needed assistance managing his various and sundry doctors’ appointments? Or better yet, an imperious old lady who wanted assistance with her knitting?

  But then she wouldn’t have discovered how it felt to be with someone like him, even if it was just for such a short time. It was worth it, wasn’t it? To know she could feel so intensely, could experience the heights of passion?

  Could love someone like him. Could love him, in fact.

  It was better than the alternative. So perhaps life was fair, but only in short bursts.

  Meanwhile, she had to focus on figuring out what Robert wanted so she could retrieve Gertrude.

  “We’re here.” His voice roused her from an uneasy sleep. She was leaning her head into the corner of the carriage, her neck bent oddly, her body twisted as though she were curled in around herself. She glanced at him and stretched her neck, feeling the pang of soreness.

  The carriage slowed, and she leaned forward to look out the window, at the familiar sight of his house just ahead. The lights blazed, and she could see Hawkins on the step, his frown increasing as he saw them.

  It hurt, but in a good way, to know that the duke’s staff was affected by Gertrude’s absence. That this had come, in just a few short weeks, to be their home, more homelike than Mr. Cheltam’s house, even though Gertrude had been born there. She had been loved there, also, but here she was protected.

  Even though the protection clearly wasn’t enough.

  The duke was out of the carriage before it came to a final stop, and turned to hold his hand out to her to help her down. He looked even more gorgeous with his unshaven stubble and unruly hair—as though he had just come from their bed, and been too engrossed in everything to maintain his appearance.

  “Hawkins,” he called over his shoulder, still holding Edwina’s hand as she stepped onto the sidewalk, “please gather anybody with pertinent information and assemble in my office.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Hawkins replied, relief in his tone. Edwina felt an easing of the tension she’d had since receiving the letter; he would make certain things were put back to rights, there was no other alternative that he would tolerate.

  She swallowed as she entered the house, seeing Chester there waiting by the door. Waiting for Gertrude? His tail thumped on the floor when he saw them, and he let out a soft woof.

  “Yes, boy, we’ll get her back.” The duke bent down to ruffle Chester’s ears, then rose and strode into his office. “Come, Cheltam.”

  She followed, feeling like a tiny ship in his eddy, just another element in his massive, and massively important, life.

  They would solve this, and then things would go back to the way they were before the kiss. When she was just Cheltam, and he was Hadlow, and he barked orders at her and she worked hard and there was no intimacy.

  That was the way it had to be. Just as there was no question in her mind but that he would get Gertrude back, there was no question that whate
ver they’d shared was over. Forever. She couldn’t afford it, in so many ways.

  He didn’t like how pale she looked. Even though he couldn’t blame her; she’d told him, and he’d seen for himself, that her only concern was her daughter, so to find her gone must have been terrifying. That it was a reasonable reaction didn’t make him feel better about it, however; not surprising, given that he was frequently unreasonable.

  He had to control his fury at the situation, though. It wouldn’t do anything but make him feel better, and that wasn’t useful at this point. Even though making himself feel better was normally his objective in any situation.

  He’d changed, he realized. He didn’t first think of what was best for him, or what was most logical, or what would result in the least amount of tedious and unwanted emotion.

  His first—and only—thought wasn’t just about himself, and he was fairly certain he liked it.

  Which was why it was unacceptable that she was planning on terminating their relationship.

  But first things first. He had to help get her daughter back. That was the only logical course of action. Not to mention that he couldn’t stand the thought of Gertrude being with the loathsome toad for a moment longer than necessary.

  He waited in front of his desk as the various staff members filed in, Cheltam at his side. He heard her swallow, and had to resist the urge to put his fingers in the small of her back, a comforting caress that would be inappropriate and likely unwelcome at this time.

  Mr. Hawkins stood in front of the crowd, looking nearly as implacable as usual. Nearly.

  And then he cleared his throat.

  “Where is Gertrude’s governess?” Michael asked.

  “Miss Clark,” Cheltam murmured. “Her name is Miss Clark.”

  “I am here, Your Grace.” The woman, who was really little more than a girl, stepped forward, her hands knitted together in front of her. “I tried to keep him from taking her, but we were on a walk by ourselves, we were just stepping out to the park there, we wanted to get some flowers so Gertrude could paint them.” She sounded agonized. Good.

  “And he walked up to us as though he were waiting for us, and he took Gertrude’s hand and said he was going to take her to see her cousins. I told him that we hadn’t arranged that, and that we would visit at a mutually convenient time, and he—he told me, without Gertrude hearing, that he was taking her, no matter what I said, and I could tell you, Mrs. Cheltam, where she was.”

  “And that was when?” Michael asked.

  “Three days ago. She’s been gone three days,” Miss Clark said, her voice faltering.

  “Do not break down, Miss Clark, that is not what is required now.” He tried to keep his tone from being sharp, but she flinched nonetheless. No doubt Cheltam would have something to say to him about that. He didn’t bother looking at her to confirm it; he could tell by her sudden intake of breath.

  Fine, he’d deal with that later.

  “Of course not, Your Grace,” Miss Clark said, her voice stronger. Good. That was what should happen.

  “And you told Hawkins what had occurred, and he sent the letter. Has anything else happened? Have you heard from Mr. Cheltam since then?”

  Miss Clark and Hawkins both shook their heads.

  “He must have known Mrs. Cheltam was away from home.” Home. It was her home, and Gertrude’s, and it didn’t feel right to be here, not without the little girl wandering about, asking questions and petting Chester and turning his staff from mere servants to caring, attentive people.

  “It seems so, Your Grace.” Hawkins looked shaken also. No doubt he felt responsible, not having insisted the footman—William?—accompany the governess and her charge on their visit to the park. Although it was hard to see what William could have done without upsetting Gertrude.

  “Well. I will pay a visit to Mr. Cheltam and retrieve the girl.” The sound of exhaled breaths echoed through the room. As though they were relieved. “You didn’t think I would bother?” He couldn’t help the irritated voice he spoke in. That they thought he would just allow someone who worked for him, never mind what relationship they might have had, suffer needlessly, when he could solve it—well, apparently they thought he was as self-absorbed as she seemed to have thought when she first arrived.

  “Of course they know you would.” Cheltam, of course, speaking in a soothing tone. When she should be the one most emotional, most agitated at this time. She was trying to soothe him. “It is merely that the staff—and I believe I speak for them, please do tell me if I am wrong, Mr. Hawkins—that the staff knows that if you say something will be taken care of, then it will be. It is as simple as that.”

  The various staff members around the room nodded their heads in agreement. Perhaps it wasn’t an indictment of his callousness, then, but merely a tribute to his efficiency. He didn’t feel quite as badly as he had a few moments ago, but then he would have to examine why he leaped to that conclusion.

  Because he felt something was lacking in himself? Because he might have hesitated to do just what was so obviously required, because it also required effort?

  He would examine it later. After Gertrude was safe. For now, he had a girl to reunite with her mother.

  Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?

  63. They have their reasons. Do not ask silly questions.

  Chapter 21

  “It is just a few streets away.” Edwina sat beside him in the carriage, unable to stop twisting her hands together in her lap. He’d tried to take her hand when they first set out, but she’d just withdrawn it, shaking her head.

  She wouldn’t call what he was doing now sulking, precisely, but he had moved over into the far corner of the carriage, wedging his shoulders in and keeping himself away from her. If she had been less anxious, she would have laughed—only inside her head—at how much like Gertrude he was acting.

  But he was here. And she didn’t doubt but that he would get her daughter back, even though it chafed at her to know that Robert was going to get what he wanted—money, probably, and perhaps the promise of that investment. I will do anything to get her back. Michael had said that, and he didn’t say anything he didn’t intend to follow through on.

  “Let me do the talking when we get there.” He was using his duke-issuing-orders voice, only now it didn’t irk her because she trusted that what he ordered would get done. And she’d seen another side of him, a softer side, even though that side was forever lost to her.

  Her heart squeezed inside her chest, and she couldn’t help but reach up and touch the painful part, right where it hurt.

  “Are you all right?” He continued speaking before she had a chance to answer. “Of course you’re not all right, that’s a ridiculous question.” He exhaled sharply. “What I meant to say is, how are you?”

  She felt her heart turn over, the traitorous organ, at his words. Words she doubted he’d asked anyone before, given how little it seemed he cared for anybody else. She didn’t think he had ever asked Chester how he was, and that was perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend.

  That was sad, wasn’t it? That in all the time she’d worked for him, he hadn’t had a friend to dine, or done more than present himself in the House of Lords and then grouse about it afterward. He had no personal letters; she saw all his correspondence.

  “You need a friend,” she blurted out before she realized she’d spoken.

  “A—never mind, it seems we’re here,” he replied, sounding relieved as the carriage drew to a stop.

  He vaulted out, as was his custom, holding his hand out to her to descend. She took it because her knees were so shaky she wasn’t sure she could remain standing on her own. But as soon as her feet hit the pavement, she snatched her hand away, wishing his touch didn’t have the effect on her it did.

  And while she was at it, perhaps she could wish she found him less handsome and rather stupid.

  Rolling her eyes at her own inanity, she took a deep breath and walked up the stairs to Robert’s house. Befo
re, when she’d been married to his brother, she’d been impressed by the grandness of his abode, but it looked like a rundown shack compared to where she lived now.

  No wonder Robert acted as he had after seeing where she was. And had seen how the duke had treated her in their brief conversation. Not that she excused him; it was a terrible thing to remove a child from a place where she was happy and cared for just to gouge funds out of someone. But having that envy of another’s position, she knew the Cheltam brothers shared that. George certainly had had it, always wishing he could best another in business. Which was why he got himself a lovely wife, even though he and his lovely wife had nothing in common. Not even the commonality of valuing her loveliness.

  It felt like a curse, usually. Unless—and there he was, at her side, looking down at her in the way that made her catch her breath, as though he was actually worried about her. Worried. About her. The Duke of Hadlow.

  He rapped sharply on the door, grimacing as he shoved the hand that he’d been holding near hers behind his back. He could learn, then. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.

  “Hello?”

  A suspicious-looking woman opened the door just enough to peer through. Edwina could see the woman had a dirty mobcap on her head, and her gown was spotted with grease. It seemed Robert had come down in the world; the last time she’d visited, before George died, a stuffy butler had greeted them, immaculate in his appearance and haughty demeanor. And if this was how the household was being run, where was Robert’s wife?

  “Mr. Cheltam is in.” It wasn’t a question, and he accompanied his words with a push of the door, forcing the woman to step back into the hallway.

  “Here, you can’t just be pushing your way in here, not without a proper introduction.” Not only was the woman disheveled, she sounded as though she’d been drinking.

  This was where Gertrude was? Edwina’s throat tightened at the thought.