A Deal with the Duke

by Patty Bryant

  Highsmith followed Alexander’s outstretched hand, leaving the women and servants behind in the front hall. Alexander regretted leaving Savitri to deal with the mess he was escaping, but he knew she would be more than capable of handling whatever Louisa might throw at her.

  Alexander crept along the dark, silent hallways, feeling as though he were a burglar in his own townhouse. It was some time before dawn and even the great bustling metropolis outside seemed – for once – quiet and still. He had never before noticed the way some of the floorboards creaked when any weight was put upon them, or how the uncarpeted staircase seemed to magnify the sound of every footfall. Of course, he hadn’t often tried to sneak about like this, determined to escape the notice of even the lowest servant.

  It had been a long day. Louisa had finally, grudgingly, accepted that Savitri was to be his wife and that no amount of reasoning, sulking, or pleading would change his mind, but it had taken some hours to bring her to that point. And her stubbornness was only a shadow of what was to come; in Louisa’s behavior, Alexander foresaw the future refusal of the more pigheaded members of society to accept Savitri.

  He would do everything he could to protect her from that. Which meant, unfortunately, sending her away; a proper bride of the gentry did not live with her husband until after the wedding. He had arranged rooms for her at the Pulteney, the most expensive and therefore the most in-demand hotel in London, where she would stay for the next four weeks until their wedding day. Alexander hated the thought of such a wait, but he knew that any appearance of a rush would only add to unusual nature of their marriage and he was determined that it would be the most genteel, conventional, scrupulously correct wedding that had ever been gossiped about in the drawing rooms of England.

  To that end, there would be an entire staff waiting for Savitri when she arrived at the Pulteney. Alexander smiled to himself at the thought of her annoyance when she realized quite how many people he had hired. She had already agreed to a personal maid and a companion – a respectable widow whom he was paying so that she could nap in the corner of the room and call herself a chaperone, because while he didn’t think Savitri needed any sort of guard over her honor, appearances had to be maintained – but she would also be greeted by a footman (to deliver her visiting cards, once they were printed), a coachman and groom (for the carriage that would also be awaiting her), a hairdresser, and a modiste and her three accompanying seamstresses (a bit much, perhaps, but they would have to work hard to produce the necessary bridal trousseau in a month, much less the entire wardrobe of a duchess). With such a crowd around her, Alexander would not have a chance to be alone with Savitri until after the wedding.

  He knew it was necessary. But he didn’t have to like it.

  All of which had led him here, tiptoeing along the bare hallway of the uppermost floor of the townhouse, a place he had rarely seen before. Unlike the hallways below, the ones the family and visitors saw, the walls here weren’t hung with paintings and wreaths of dried flowers. They weren’t even wallpapered, and there were no mirrored sconces with candles to light his way, nor delicate side tables holding oil lamps. If Alexander hadn’t thought to bring a candle with him, it would have been impossibly dark. But a few delicate questions asked earlier had let him know that this was the way to Savitri’s bedroom, so he pressed on.

  What the hallway did have, in the place of art and comfort, was numerous unmarked doors. Alexander would have had no hope of identifying which was Savitri’s, but luckily a trunk sat beside one door, already packed and ready for her move to the hotel tomorrow morning – no, it was already today. The thought of losing her so soon, even if it was only temporary, made him move more quickly.

  He tapped softly at the door, afraid of waking her neighbors, then pushed it open without waiting for an answer. The room within was small, slightly bigger than the cheap dockyard inn bedroom he had seen earlier, but not by much. And he knew Savitri was lucky to have a room of her own at all; most servants shared.

  Savitri sat up in the bed with a gasp, clutching the sheets to her chest and blinking furiously in the light of his candle.

  “It’s me,” Alexander whispered, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry for waking you, but I had to see you before you left.”

  Savitri’s look of fear disappeared as she came more fully awake and recognized him, but she still directed a fierce glare his way. “You couldn’t wait until breakfast?”

  “No,” he said simply. He set the candle on her small writing desk and came to kneel by the side of the bed. “I honestly couldn’t.”

  Savitri let go of the sheets she had instinctively pulled to her neck and they fell to her waist, revealing the nightgown she wore. It was completely appropriate for a governess, white and high-necked and without any hint of fashion or luxury, and yet Alexander was entirely distracted from his intentions to only have a conversation. Her hair was down too; it was braided for sleep, but for the first time he realized that it was long enough to reach her waist. He had never suspected those proper buns of hers hid such length.

  He reached out and caught the bottom edge of her sleeve, rubbing the soft, thick cloth between his fingers. It was warm, warm from her skin, warm from being pressed against her as she slept. Alexander felt his body stir in response.

  “Oh, I see,” she said acerbically. “Now I understand what you’re here for.” He glanced up at her, momentarily worried, but she was smiling.

  “Four weeks, Savitri!” he growled, then forced his voice back to a whisper. “Four weeks of waiting and making polite conversation in front of my damned sister-in-law and all her friends. Four weeks of sipping tea and discussing arrangements with the bishop. Four weeks of acting like I’m not losing my mind with desire for you. Four weeks until I can call you mine.”

  “It’s not so long,” she said, but he could hear the doubt in her voice. “You’ll manage. We’ll both manage.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve managed for my whole life. If I’d been told to wait four weeks for a vote, for my steward’s advice on crop management, for a collection of taxes, I could have done it easily. I have done it. But now I don’t want to manage. I’ve finally figured out what makes life worth living. I’ve found you, and I can’t bear to wait another minute.”

  Savitri took hold of his wrist and pulled him up and onto the bed, then on to her. She kissed him, her mouth opening beneath his to welcome him into the warm wetness of her. Alexander scrambled to find places for his hands and knees, to position himself on the bed without crushing her, but it was so hard to think of anything except the kiss. She sparked passion in him, and it might be a cliche to say it felt like fire, but it did. Burning his past to ash, consuming all those long, boring years of doing the right thing but never the thing he truly wanted.

  She gave him the meaning that his life had lacked.

  After a long, dizzying moment she pulled back. Her lips were distractingly red from the force of their kiss and Alexander wanted them even more. “I can’t wait either,” she murmured. “No. I can, but I don’t want to. I’m tired of being told what to do.”

  He grinned. “You are going to be a magnificent duchess.”

  “I don’t care about that. I want you.” She pushed at his shoulders and Alexander leaned backward, confused. But she had only wanted enough room to squirm out further from beneath the sheets, take hold of the hem of her nightgown, and pull the whole thing over her head.

  While Alexander was still staring at the sudden feast spread before his surprised gaze, a look of supreme satisfaction spread across Savitri’s face. “You see me. You’d be amazed at how many people simply don’t. A governess is nothing more than, than a piece of furniture. I worked for them, I lived in their house, but I was nothing to them – all those families who only wanted an obedient shadow, as long as I could knew French and a bit of geography. I taught their children! And still I never mattered, not really. None of them knew who I was on the inside.”

  “I’m still learning tha
t myself,” Alexander said as he lifted a cautious hand to touch the outside of one thigh. Her skin was shockingly soft, the line of the strong muscle of her upper leg leading the eye to the wide-set curve of her hips, the roundness of her belly with its small dimple of a navel.

  “But you care. You’re the first person who has since I left home. My mother warned me that it would be hard, but I thought I was strong enough to bear it. I thought it didn’t matter how I was treated, as long as I had my books and my questions and was allowed to search for the answers. I thought I didn’t need love.”

  Alexander recognized the pain in her words. It wasn’t exactly the same for him – his ambition in life had never been pure knowledge the way it had been for Savitri – but he knew how it was to let a single fraction of yourself take over, to let it grow until all the many other pieces of your soul withered and died. He could have told her that, or how he himself had believed love was nothing more than soppy sentimentality, but in this second none of that mattered. Instead he said only, “I love you.”

  Savitri screwed her eyes shut and made a sound almost like a sob, like his love was a blow to a heart that had learned to be hard.

  “I do,” Alexander said, louder. “I love you. I love your mind, I love that the first time we spoke you were more interested in my books than in me. I love that you are not content to know what is necessary, but are always hungry for more. But as much as I love you for your mathematics” – he leaned into her, moving his hand higher on her thigh until the plush weight of her ass settled into his palm and he gripped in firmly – “I also love you for your body.”

  “Yes,” Savitri sighed. The remembered rage began to leave her, softening her voice and allowing the tension to seep from her muscles. Alexander drew her to him and they kissed again. She was eager, her tongue pushing into his mouth. Her hunger matched his own, and before long he shifted, pushing her back to lie flat on the bed.

  He paused to kneel above her; the first time they’d done this, he hadn’t had the chance to look his fill, and now he wanted this memory to last him for the next four weeks. Savitri was wonderfully curved beneath her confining governess dresses. Her breasts were larger than he could fit into a hand, and her nipples were a dark brown, currently peaked with anticipation. He bent down and put his mouth on one, sucking hard before pulling back just enough to gently roll the nipple between his lips.

  Savitri’s back arched with both surprise and pleasure, and she buried her hands in his hair, holding him to her chest. He teased the nipple until she was writhing and whimpering beneath him, then switched his attention to the other one. By the time he lifted his head again, she was panting and her hips worked against him in shallow, impatient waves. Alexander pulled back just long enough to strip his shirt over his head and unbutton his pants, quickly shoving them down from his hips.

  Savitri watched impatiently, reaching for him the instant he was undressed. “I want you inside me,” she whispered as she pulled him back to her. The admission sent a jolt of lust through him so intensely that he was almost undone before he could met her demand. They had done this before, but somehow it still felt like a first time; Alexander suspected that it always would. There were so many surprising, unexpected sides to this woman that he felt he would never finish unearthing them all.

  He touched between her legs with curious fingers and was met with a thorough wetness. He remembered how she had tasted, those slick folds filling his mouth with earthy, womanly flavor, and he was tempted to taste her again, right now. But she took firm hold of his shoulders and repeated, “Now, Alexander. I want you inside me now. I’ve nearly forgotten what you felt like, and I want to feel you there again.”

  He swiped a quick thumb over her clit and Savitri responded with a barely-muffled moan, her whole body trembling on the edge of climax. Once more he stroked her clit and, as she was still open-mouthed and gasping in response, he slid into her.

  At first he couldn’t even thrust. The sensation was too much, too good, and all Alexander could do was close his eyes and attempt not to spend immediately. Then he felt Savitri’s hands scrabbling at his shoulders, her half-voiced “Please,” and they broke the spell. He pulled back and slid into her again, and then again and she moved beneath him, her hips rising to meet each one of his thrusts. They were both too excited, too needy, to last for long, and it was only a few minutes before Savitri came, her inner walls clenching tight around his cock and bringing him to the end as well.

  Afterwards they lay entwined together, content and tired. Alexander felt as mentally exhausted as well as physically; the confessions he’d made today had taken their toll on him, and he wondered if Savitri felt the same. He suspected she must.

  He knew that he should get up soon and return to his own bedroom; he wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been, but he knew that the chambermaids came frightfully early to light the fires, and he didn’t want to wander into one of them in the hallway. Bur he couldn’t help but remember how it had felt to wake up in an empty bed after the last time they had slept together, and he knew that it would be just as bad now. Why had he put himself in this lonely position again: forced to face cold empty sheets, a bed that was too wide for him alone, silence and stillness? He was usually too smart to repeat such an obvious mistake. He tightened his arm around Savitri’s shoulder, putting off leaving for a little longer.

  She shifted closer and propped her head on his arm. “One month,” she said quietly. “It’s not so long.”

  He should have been surprised that she seemed to read his thoughts, but he supposed she was worrying about the same thing. One month until he could have her in his bed every night, until he could finally wake up to Savitri by his side. He would do anything for that, fight any dragon, defy any stars. He could wait one month.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Two weeks later

  Savitri studied herself in the mirror. The Pulteney Hotel had loaned her one tall enough to reflect her whole body, all the way down to her currently bare toes, partly buried in the thick carpet of her dressing room.

  Ridiculous to have a room just for dressing, she thought, as she had thought many times over the last few days. But it was hardly the most useless of the suite of rooms she had abruptly found herself in. One room for breakfast, another for tea, a third for dinner despite the fact that she usually ate in the hotel’s very good restaurant. A room for sleeping and a room to greet visitors – that was sensible enough, but what was she supposed to do with a room for “conducting business”? So far Savitri had simply ignored it.

  She directed her attention back to the mirror and, more importantly, the dress it showed. It wasn’t finished yet; most of its seams were pinned rather than sewn, and several panels still consisted of the cheap calico used to check measurements rather than the silk that would be ultimately used. And yet it was the most beautiful thing Savitri had ever worn. The cloth was silver and shimmered with the thin threads of gold and silver that were scattered throughout to catch the light. Embroidered flowers worked their way up from the hem, and lace edged the neckline and sleeves. It was pulled tight just below the bosom in a way Savitri wasn’t used to, but which she did have to admit showed off her figure to its best advantage. The dress was far more luxurious, and revealed far more of her skin, than she had expected.

  She should have hated it. After years of wearing clothes chosen for their practicality and modesty, this dress should have embarrassed her. It was outrageous, scandalous, sinful.

  Savitri loved it.

  Madame Dubois popped over Savitri’s shoulder, eyeing the dress with the critical eye of the one who had designed it. “Mmm, yes, is improving. One-two changes still I make, but we will have it done before the wedding, do not worry.” She dropped to her knees and did something with the hem of the dress and a handful of pins that was too quick for Savitri to follow, but when Madame Dubois stood again, the dress had clearly improved in some minor, indefinable way.

  Madame Dubois seemed to agree, because she
gave their reflection in the mirror a grudging nod. “And you will wear the Clermont diamonds, yes?” the modiste asked. “I designed this dress for the diamonds.”

  Savitri wasn’t sure how to answer, since worrying about what jewels she would wear had been the last thing on her mind. She turned to the third woman in the room, her past employer and soon to be sister-in-law Lady Louisa Ware.

  Louisa perched on the stool beside the room’s vanity, idly playing with the small bottles and jars of perfumes, creams, and powders that were scattered over its surface. She looked up abruptly at the silence that had fallen. “What was that? Oh, the diamonds. Yes, I assume you’ll wear them; the bride of the head of the family always has. Why should your case be any different?” She gave a pretty little smile, but Savitri sensed uneasiness lying under the surface of her words.

  Ever since she had gotten over her first shock at Savitri’s engagement to Alexander, Louisa had been friendly and welcoming, acting the part of the perfect relative of the groom. She visited Savitri in her hotel rooms almost every day, provided useful advice about her quickly growing wardrobe, and made introductions to old friends of hers from London’s upper class. Savitri knew she should be grateful, and she was, but the whole thing seemed a little too flawless. What had happened to that anger she’d seen in Louisa’s face when Alexander had first told her of his love for Savitri? Was it really gone or was it only in hiding?

  But until she had proof one way or the other, all she could do was take Louisa’s new kindness at face value. Don’t kick away good fortune, as her mother would say.