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

by Megan Frampton

  Carolyn leaped to her feet as Edwina entered, a smile on her face.

  “Good afternoon, Carolyn.” Edwina gave her friend a hug, then sat down on the sofa and beckoned to Carolyn to sit beside her. “You must have something for me to make the visit. I hadn’t expected anything quite so soon, especially with Gertrude to consider. But then again the agency is getting more well-known, so perhaps there are more positions open than I would have thought, and—”

  “You’re babbling,” Carolyn pointed out.

  “Yes,” Edwina admitted. “So I am. Tell me what it is you came to say before I get a chance to babble again.”

  “Well,” Carolyn said, reaching over to take Edwina’s hand, “it appears that I have found something for you, something where Gertrude will be welcome also. The Dowager Countess of Feltington is in need of a companion. Her daughter lives with her as well, a widow, and she has a daughter who also, it seems, is in need of companionship.”

  “Why isn’t her daughter the dowager countess’s companion?”

  Carolyn paused. “From what I understand, the daughter is a bit of a loose screw, and her mother is determined to watch over her granddaughter, but also wants someone around who is trustworthy.”

  “Ah. And where is the position?”

  “Well out of London, nearly fifty miles to the west. There is no chance you will encounter the duke again.” Carolyn spoke as though this was a good thing, which Edwina supposed it was, even though her heart felt even sicker at the thought of never seeing him again.

  She wished, not for the first time, that she was more willing to settle and had said yes when he’d asked. Only she knew that that way inevitably led to unhappiness, as she would continue to love him, and he would continue not to love her, and likely eventually grow bored of her.

  “And Her Ladyship wants someone immediately, so the sooner you can get there, the better.”

  “I don’t need to meet with her?”

  Carolyn shook her head. “No, it’s all settled. I went ahead and accepted the position for you, the salary isn’t quite what you are making here, but it is something that will be adequate for your needs.”

  “Oh.” Edwina wished it didn’t hurt so much. And then wanted to smack herself. Because if it didn’t hurt so much she wouldn’t have to leave in the first place.

  “You are ready to leave, aren’t you?” Carolyn squeezed her hand.

  “Of course. It is just sudden. I will need a few days to sort things out so I don’t leave the duke unprepared.” And so I can prepare myself for never seeing him.

  “I expected that, so I informed Her Ladyship you would arrive within the week. That will be sufficient time.”

  At which Edwina wanted to protest—forever wouldn’t be sufficient time, but she couldn’t tell her friend that. She could scarcely admit it to herself.

  “Thank you,” she said instead. “Thank you so much for this; you cannot know what it means to me.”

  Carolyn’s smile was wistful. “I do know, Edwina.” She patted Edwina’s hand. “I do.”

  “Well?” The duke’s tone was impatient as Edwina returned to the room. It appeared that he’d been pacing since she’d left—his chair was pushed carelessly back, his hair showed signs of having been raked through, and there was a wary gleam in his eye that made her heart hurt.

  “Well.” She raised her chin and took a deep breath. “My visitor was my friend Carolyn, the woman who runs the Quality Employment Agency. She has found me another position, one which I will be taking straightaway.”

  He strode to stand directly in front of her, so close she swore she could see the spark of anger in his gaze. “So this is your solution? To leave me?”

  His words were sharp, as was his expression. She shouldn’t have expected anything else; this was something he did not want, since it would inconvenience him.

  But he could find another secretary. She couldn’t find her heart again, not until she wasn’t near him anymore.

  “It is not a solution,” she replied, concentrating on keeping her voice steady. “It is a necessity. I cannot stay here any longer, not with—with—” and then she felt her eyes tickle as the tears started to well up. She could not cry. She could not.

  “With us no longer being involved? That was your choice, not mine,” he said, his tone almost sounding hurt.

  And apparently she could cry, because she realized the tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she was gulping, trying to stop the flow as she looked anywhere but his face. Because if she looked at him, and there was a softening in his expression, she might soften as well, and stay here, and be with him, even though she knew it was wrong.

  Even though it would feel incredibly right. At least for the short term.

  “So that is it then.” His tone was flat. Cold. “Can I”—and now his tone did sound softer, and she felt another rush of tears—“will you give me one more night before you leave? Just one?”

  The temptation was too much for her. Another chance to be in his arms, kiss him, have his full attention on her, and how she felt, and how he could make her feel. It wouldn’t be so wrong, would it, if they both knew it was the last time? Forever?

  She knew it was wrong, but she just couldn’t say no. “Yes.” She spoke in a whisper, but it appeared he heard it, since he gripped her upper arms and drew her into his body, resting his chin on her head.

  “Thank you.” Had he sounded cold before? Now he sounded passionate, earnest, thankful. Things she didn’t think he had ever sounded like before.

  “Not tonight, though,” she murmured. “Not until the last night. Just a few days from now.”

  She felt his body stiffen. “So soon.”

  “Yes.” Because even that time felt too long for her to stay here, with him, knowing he could never be hers, that she could love him as much as she wanted to but he wouldn’t love her back.

  He released her and put his finger under her chin, raising her face to his. His gaze was intense, so strong it felt as though it might scorch her. Which was how she felt with him most of the time anyway—as though he could burn her with his intensity, his touch.

  He had burned her. She would never be the same after knowing him, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t recover. She would, but she knew she would never be the same.

  Michael urged his horse to go faster, even though he was already moving at a pace that was quicker than what was expected of a gentleman’s ride in the park. He’d been seething with a fury he didn’t even understand himself since Cheltam had told him she was leaving. How dare she? How dare she turn her back on what he offered her, knowing what they were together?

  Thank God he’d gotten her promise for another night, because if he had to bid her goodbye without that—he didn’t know what he’d do.

  He’d never felt this—this lost before at the end of an affair. Of course he’d always been the one to end it before, so perhaps that was the cause of this new, strange emotion. And Cheltam was different from any of the other women whom he’d had before. He would miss her. And her daughter. Gertrude had been adamant about spending every possible moment she could with Chester, which meant by default she’d been spending time with him—they’d taken to walking for an hour or two in the late afternoon, right after tea, and Michael found he looked forward to their time together. Even if her conversation was primarily about what Chester was looking at, and smelling, and doing other things to.

  He’d gone out to a few more social events, where he always made sure he at least greeted Miss Emily, even though she couldn’t be his friend, and he definitely did not want her as a wife. She amused him, at least, and it seemed he amused her. He danced with a few under-lash fluttering debutantes, repressing his normally blunt opinions so he wouldn’t scare the ladies.

  That was no way to be. It was far better to be on his own, he assured himself, than to have to compromise his viewpoints to accommodate someone who couldn’t handle who he was, even though they were more than happy to accommodate what h
e was—namely, a duke with wealth, lands, and responsibilities.

  But the days were ticking by, and as long as she hadn’t changed her mind, tonight they would be together for one last time. The last time. And she and Gertrude would leave tomorrow, and he would be on his own again, a duke without a secretary.

  A man without a lover.

  A man without a friend.

  “You are all ready, Mrs. Cheltam?” Miss Clark glanced at the trunks Edwina had packed. Edwina had had to get an additional one since the household staff had insisted on purchasing new toys for Gertrude and the duke had insisted she take the books Gertrude had used for her studies. “It is not as though they will be useful after you’ve gone,” he said flatly. She’d nearly opened her mouth to tell him that they could be useful if he had a wife, and had children, but she couldn’t; she knew her heart would crack if she mentioned his future.

  And now, tonight, she would be with him. One last time. The last time for her, she knew, since even if she healed, and her heart eventually mended, she would never fall out of love with him, and she was done with compromising herself when it came to her choice of partner. It would be enough that she’d had this love, albeit for a short period of time. She could concentrate on raising Gertrude, and finding some measure of comfort in doing the right thing for her daughter. The right thing for her, as well, even though it felt like absolutely the wrong thing right now.

  “We are ready, yes, Miss Clark.” Carolyn had found a position for Gertrude’s governess, as well, and Miss Clark would be leaving for her new post the day after Edwina and Gertrude had gone. Edwina hadn’t even thought of what their leaving would do to Miss Clark, and she was grateful for Carolyn’s forethought.

  “I will miss you,” Miss Clark said, a glint of moisture in her eyes. Edwina gathered the younger woman into her arms for a hug, swallowing against the lump in her throat. Miss Clark was too young to have to deal with Edwina’s emotions—it wouldn’t be fair to collapse in her arms just because she’d done the stupidest thing of falling in love with her employer.

  “I will miss you, too.” Edwina stepped back, keeping her hands on the other woman’s shoulders. “You will promise to write and let me know how you are? I will do the same.”

  “Yes, it will be a pleasure. I never thought I would find a friend in my first position, and yet here I have.” Miss Clark spoke wonderingly, and Edwina’s heart hurt all over again at how open and honest she was. She’d been like that, too, but so long ago she could barely remember. Now she felt as though she were battle-scarred, the nicks and hurts from her marriage written on her skin, the anguish and loss of Michael taking residence in her heart.

  But she had to put all that aside, at least for a short time. It wouldn’t do to spend her last evening as Michael’s lover sobbing all over his chest, much as she might feel the urge to. She wanted something she could look back on, not something she would regret.

  So she would lose herself in the moment, in his arms, savoring every touch so she would have nothing to regret. Besides the whole falling-in-love-with-an-unattainable-man thing.

  “Mama says we’re to live in the country.” Gertrude’s expression showed what she thought of that. “But she said there would probably be a dog there, so it won’t be all bad.” She did not sound convinced.

  Michael speared another piece of meat onto his fork, wishing he could stab Edwina’s plans as easily. They hadn’t dined together since before, before the time she’d come to his bed. He hadn’t asked her to since then, either, since he knew she would just decline.

  But she couldn’t refuse tonight, not when it meant her daughter could spend a few more hours in his company, or more accurately, in his dog’s company. Chester was not normally allowed into the dining room, of course, but Michael had made an exception for tonight, much to Hawkins’s dismay.

  Chester sat to the right of Gertrude, rousing every time she “accidentally” let a piece of food drop. He roused quite frequently.

  “It will be different, certainly,” Michael began, “but you will find friends”—unlike me—“and soon you’ll wonder how you ever lived anywhere else.” He didn’t have much—that is to say any—experience with trying to make someone feel better, but judging by Edwina’s approving look, he’d done all right for his first time.

  “And there will be lots more room to run around, and it won’t be as smoky and loud.”

  “I like smoke and loud,” Gertrude said grumpily, if not grammatically.

  Michael stifled a snort.

  “And you will be taking lessons with the dowager countess’s granddaughter; you can show her everything you learned with Miss Clark.”

  “That might be all right,” Gertrude conceded.

  “And you will write me letters all about it, won’t you?” Michael surprised himself with his request, not to mention his desire to have Gertrude write him letters in the first place. When had he ever thought corresponding with a child would be something he would want? The answer was never. And yet he found he did want it, wanted to keep that connection even though they were far away. Where he would likely never see them.

  “I will, as long as you write back. Since Chester can’t,” Gertrude added, lest Michael think she actually wanted to correspond with him.

  “I will,” he promised, taking a not too large sip of wine and meeting Edwina’s gaze. She smiled at him, and he felt the shock of her smile through his whole body. It wasn’t a smile that said. We’ll be naked together later on, although he would have been fine with that smile as well; it was a smile that said, Thank you for being so kind to my daughter, you’re not nearly as uncaring as you think you are.

  Edwina broke the gaze and looked at her daughter, her eyes narrowing. “Gertrude, concentrate on your dinner, now.” Gertrude’s hand halted in its journey down to Chester, some sort of food in her hand. While Chester was not the most intelligent of dogs, he was smart enough to know when he should pay attention, so he stood up and snagged the morsel from Gertrude’s hand.

  She drew it back into her lap and picked up her fork, staring assiduously at her plate.

  Michael tried not to laugh. It wouldn’t do to undermine Edwina’s authority, especially since they were to be on their own again. Tomorrow.

  Suddenly, he didn’t have the stomach for any more dinner. He picked up his wineglass instead and took a swallow, conscious of not wishing to have anything tamper with his memories of the night to come. Memories that would have to last him, since he would never see Edwina again.

  What was this odd feeling he had? He’d never experienced its like before. Something as though there was a band across his chest tightening by the minute.

  “Are you all right?” Gertrude was looking at him with a puzzled expression.

  “Fine.” He heard how curt he sounded, and knew that wasn’t fair. “Thank you for asking. I am fine, I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  He definitely could not answer that, not even if it wasn’t a young girl asking. He didn’t know what he was thinking—just that it was bothering him, and he didn’t like to be bothered. Hadn’t he structured his whole life so that would never happen? And yet here he was, at his own dinner table, filled with bother.

  “Nothing in particular.” He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, drawing a look of ire from Edwina and a delighted look from Gertrude. “What are you thinking about?”

  Gertrude glanced down at where Chester lay. “About leaving. I’m going to miss Chester.” She glanced up. “And you, too.”

  “I am going to miss you as well,” Michael replied, his throat closing up as he spoke.

  “We should get you into bed,” Edwina said. Unfortunately not speaking to him. “We have a long journey tomorrow. I don’t want you to be too tired.”

  “Can Chester come, too?”

  Michael smiled at her. “As if I could keep him away. Of course he can.” It would be the last time for all of them. He wouldn’t deny her the treat, nor did he thin
k Chester would allow it anyway.

  Edwina rose, gesturing to Gertrude to do the same. He felt a moment of panic—did she remember that they were to be together?—and then she looked his way and nodded, mouthing, Later as she placed a hand on her daughter’s back to guide her out of the room. Michael stood and bowed to both of them as they left, his fingers reaching out toward Edwina’s sleeve, but not touching her. Just hanging suspended there for a moment, as lost and adrift as he felt inside.

  He was at the door as soon as he heard the soft knock, flinging it open so fast her hand was still raised.

  “You came.” Until he saw her, he hadn’t been certain she would come after all. What if Gertrude had a nightmare? Or she had a change of heart?

  But she was here.

  “Come,” he said, taking her arm and drawing her inside. He shut the door firmly, then took her in his arms, lowering his mouth to hers as he pushed her against the door.

  It had been so long. Too long.

  Her mouth opened for him, and her arms wrapped around his body, pulling him in close. She was warm, and soft, and he wanted to bury himself inside her—not just his cock, though he wanted that, but his whole self. He wanted to burrow under her skin, find and claim the solace he knew only when he was with her.

  She wore only her night rail and dressing gown, and he could feel her hardening nipples against his chest. One hand went to wrap itself in her hair, while the other grasped her lovely, heavy breast. So warm and full in his hand.

  He was erect against her, and he thrust forward gently, letting her know just what he was feeling. She moaned into his mouth, and he twisted them so she was walking backward, toward the bed. As she walked, he pushed her wrapper off her shoulders, then drew the night rail up and pulled it over her head so she was completely naked.

  He withdrew his mouth from hers just long enough to coax her onto the bed, then shed his clothing as quickly as he could and got onto the bed as well, caging her with his body, returning his mouth to kiss her with a passion, with a need he didn’t think he’d ever felt before. No, that he knew he’d never felt before.