From France, with Love: League of Unweddable Gentlemen, Book 1

by Gill, Tamara

  “Tate,” she whispered, shutting her eyes for a moment. “There are expectations for a duchess that I cannot rise to. I’m so set in my ways now, the racing stables that alone take up most of my spare time. As your wife, we would be required to travel to Town, entertain, be present during the sitting of Parliament. When will any of that leave room for my responsibilities? It would not.”

  “Of course, being my wife, a duchess comes with responsibilities, but you never shied away from them before, do not let what others say, what you believe will occur to dismiss the possibility of us together entirely.”

  She bit her lip, her brow furrowed. “Can we not be as we are, with no pressure and we’ll see what happens? There is much that I need to consider, to think about.”

  Tate ran a hand over his jaw, wishing that they’d never been parted. That the time had not given way to Ava having to face things alone. He’d wanted to be there with her when she made decisions, support and push her in her endeavors. He would do as she asked, give her time, prove his loyalty, his love and he hoped to win her heart back?

  “I will do anything that you ask of me,” he said, meaning every word to the very core of his soul.

  She turned toward him on the bench, her beautiful innocent eyes searched his gaze for a moment and heat spiked through his blood at the resolve he read in her dark brown orbs. She reached out and clasped the lapels of his jacket running her hands up his chest. He shut his eyes reveling in her touch and yet it was not enough. He wanted more, so much more. “More than anything right at this moment I want you to kiss me, Tate.”

  His body roared with need and he was desperate to kiss her. The years fell away and clasping her jaw in his hands he tilted her face, leaned down and took her lips. He sighed at the taste of her again, her soft, pliant lips that he remembered and had craved for so long.

  Her hands fisted into his superfine coat, holding him firmly, but he wasn’t going anywhere. He would never leave her again if she’d only choose him. Tate lost himself with each brush of her tongue, her soft sighs and little nips upon his lips that teased and hauled him back into her life.

  The kiss was as if they had never parted at all. As if time had stopped. He hauled her hard against him, and her soft moan set alight his desire. The kiss deepened, changed, became more savage and raw. No matter what Ava told him, her kiss told him something completely different. She still wanted him with as much fire and need as he did her, and that gave him hope.

  She belonged in his arms, his life.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, kissing her neck, paying homage to her earlobe, knowing how much she enjoyed it.

  She shivered in his arms, wrapping her arms about his neck. “I missed you too,” she whispered against his lips.

  He kissed her again and she moaned, and Tate took the opportunity to pull her closer still. They had never been so intimate before, but somehow now that they were older, wiser perhaps, such a closeness seemed natural, the next step for them.

  Tate reminded himself Ava was an innocent, a woman who had already been through so much, and the last thing he wished to do was frighten her, or push her to a point that she was not ready for. And then she moved, placing herself all but in his lap and fire burst through his blood. He stilled a moment, at a loss to what she was doing and then she moved, undulating against his rigidness and he fought not to lose himself like an untried lad of eighteen.

  “What is it that you’re making me feel?” she asked, clasping his nape and meeting his eyes. Hers were glassy, bright and full of longing.

  Tate’s lips lifted in a half smile. “Desire, need.”

  “Ah,” she said, nodding a little and undulating a little harder against his engorged member. He clamped his jaw, fighting the temptation to hike up her skirts and take her out here in the garden. “I like it,” she whispered against his ear, the breath of her words firing his blood even more.

  “I like it too,” he growled, his hands flexing on her hips and helping her in her exertion.

  The sound of laughter and clinking of glasses floated to them through the ivy and she stilled. It was all the warning they needed to know they were no longer so alone. Tate reluctantly untangled them, and set Ava away from him. In the little moonlight they had in the pergola he checked that her gown was back to rights, and that her hair was not mussed from the kiss. She grinned up at him as he took one last inspection of her appearance and his heart squeezed. He adored her and he could not lose her a second time.

  “Do I look like I've been well kissed, duke?” she asked. She did look like she'd been kissed within an inch of her life in fact, and it made him only want to kiss her again. He would of course, but the next time it would be in a more private setting.

  “I think we should stay here for a few minutes until we’re both less conspicuous.” And hopefully the few minutes’ away from the ball would allow Ava’s lips to return to their normal size, not a little swollen and ruddy from their exertions.

  She reached up and settled his own hair back into place, before adjusting his cravat and waistcoat, ensuring all sat exactly as they should on his person.

  “There,” she said, nodding once. “That is better. Now you too do not look so ravished either.”

  The sound of the couples on the terrace quietened and Tate took the opportunity to look out through the ivy, pleased to see that they had gone back indoors. “Come,” he said taking her hand and pulling her towards the terrace. “I think it is safe to return to the ball now.” Without any trouble he returned Ava back to Viscountess Vance and greeted her friends who waited patiently beside her ladyship when Ava introduced him to them. He had not met Miss. Perry and her widened eyes at the sight of him led him to believe she’d not met many dukes in her life. “When are you returning to Berkshire?” he asked, before taking his leave.

  “We are here a week, Your Grace,” Ava replied. “Willow was kind enough to invite us to town to take part in the few events left during the little season. I must admit it's been a nice distraction from the troubles we’ve been having in Berkshire.”

  Which reminded Tate of what he needed to appraise Ava before he left the ball. “The meeting with the Bow Street Runner is at eleven tomorrow morning at my home in Grosvenor Square. Do you think you’ll be in attendance? As a landowner in the area, I think it is important if you attend.”

  “Ava told us of your troubles, Your Grace,” Willow said, lowering her voice to ensure privacy. “If there is anything that you need me or Miss. Evans to do, please do not hesitate to ask.”

  “Thank you, Miss. Perry. I will keep that in mind.”

  Ava smiled at her friend before turning back toward him. “Of course I shall attend. We’re staying with her ladyship and I shall ask if I can take a maid with me.”

  “You can take Betsie with you, Ava. She is my maid,” Miss. Perry said.

  Tate liked Ava’s friends more and more. They both seemed level-headed, intelligent and loyal. All traits he himself looked for in his own lifelong friendships.

  “Thank you,” Ava said. “You’re being very kind.”

  Tate clasped Ava’s hand and bowed over it. “Until tomorrow then, Miss. Knight.”

  She threw him a secretive little smile that made him count the hours until he saw her again.

  “Until tomorrow Your Grace.”

  * * *

  Ava rapped with the brass knocker on the door of the duke’s residence at 11 o'clock sharp. A footman answered the door, his red livery coat and breeches adorned with gold buttons were a beacon of the wealth and power which resided inside these great walls.

  Ava had never been to Tate’s London residence, and its imposing, large size made her feel insignificant and common. Of course Tate’s Berkshire property was large, but not as imposing as this home. Here the floor was marble and polished so much so that one could almost see their reflection. A wide, winding staircase stood center in the entrance leading up to the many rooms above. This floor too had multiple doors opening onto i
t, each one framed by two pillars that too looked to be made of marble.

  So much grandeur and expectation sat on the shoulders of whoever lived here. A position she hesitated to accept. She took a fortifying breath, and shuffling out of her pelisse handed it to the waiting footman, along with her bonnet.

  “The duke is expecting you, Miss. Knight. If you would follow me, please,” a butler said, stepping out of the shadows and startling her a little.

  His severe frown and disapproval at her arrival made Ava dared not do anything other than what he requested. Two chairs sat inside the door to the library. He pointed at them as if she could not see them well enough on her own. “You and your maid may sit there,” the butler said, his severe countenance not budging an inch.

  Ava took in the room as she entered. Tate’s desk was situated central in the space. At one end, banks of mahogany shelves were full to the brim with books and scrolls, all of various shapes and sizes. The front windows overlooked the street, and carriages and people bustled by on their outings.

  “Your Grace.” Ava stood, dipping into a curtsy when Tate strolled into the room. His steps faltered a moment before dismissing the butler, he came over to her, smiling.

  Tate nodded in greeting, pulling her toward the chair that sat opposite his desk. “Thank you for coming,” he said, squeezing her gloved hand a little.

  All thoughts of keeping her distance, of reminding herself that this was not the life she longed for any more vanished as he grinned down at her. Now there was nothing she’d like to do more than to kiss him again. The only thing stopping her was her maid and that the Bow Street Runner was due to arrive at any moment.

  He leaned forward and kissed her cheek instead, and heat bloomed on her cheeks knowing Willow’s maid would’ve seen his affection. The maid cleared her throat and Tate merely chuckled, giving her a devilish grin as she sat.

  “I would be perfectly happy to kiss you fully, my dear. I no longer care that servants might see my regard for you. I will not hide my affection any longer. I have already spent too many years doing what others thought was best for us and I will not do it anymore.” Ava glanced up at him as he stepped back and leant against his desk, arms folded over his chest.

  Today Tate was dressed in tan breeches and knee high boots. His waistcoat, shirt and cravat were expertly tailored and his coat fit him like a kid glove. In this setting, this grand home and perfectly attired clothing, Tate was duke to his core. Powerful, charismatic and so above her reach, or at least he should be. He was too aristocratic for her common blood and deserved a woman who brought fortune and connections to his family. They had been so young, so immune to what was expected of them when they had planned to run away. Ava could see now that although there was a spark between them, a fuse that ignited each time they touched, that did not mean they were suitable to become husband and wife. As much as it pained her to admit, she was not his social equal, and should she marry him, the ton and Society at large would let him know that his choice was considered beneath him.

  “While I will not put your reputation in jeopardy by declaring my intentions, but here in my office away from the prying eyes of meddling family members and matrons of the ton, I will kiss you if I want. I will kiss you for as long as you wish me to,” he whispered, so the maid did not hear.

  Ava bit her lip. How on earth would she deny him anything when he spoke to her in such a way? After last night and their kiss she’d thought of little else but doing it again, but that did not help either of them. Her life was in Berkshire, and his life was London, the House of Lords, Society and overseeing his many estates. A duke would expect his wife to be by his side, a pillar in Society, a hostess during the Season. How could a woman who bred racehorses and trained them to be champions do everything that was expected of her? She could not.

  “Tate, I need your opinion on a subject that has been troubling me.”

  “Of course,” he said. “Ask me anything, Ava?”

  She met his gaze and forced the words she dreaded to know the truth of through her lips. “If we were to marry, what would be expected of me?”

  He frowned, kneeling before her and taking her hand. “I would want to show you off. Bring you to London and shout it from the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral that you’re mine and no-one else’s. I would cover you in jewels, diamonds and gifts that would bring out the stunning color of your eyes and sweetness of your soul. And we shall dance, and make love until we no longer have the energy to do so. And that is to start.”

  His words sent panic through her of all such a promise would mean to her. “You would want to spend the Season each year here in town?”

  He nodded. “Of course, we would have to travel to London often as I’m a member of the House of Lords and so Parliament brings me here regularly. As the Duke of Whitstone, it’s expected that I’m seen during the Season, to attend balls and parties. My friends, which will become our friends will expect and want us to attend their gatherings.”

  He smiled, his eyes full of hope and unable to tell him how much his words dashed all her optimism, she smiled a little, running her hand over his jaw. “Tate…”

  A fast rap at the door brought Tate to his feet before the butler entered, introducing the Bow Street Runner and thankfully stopping Ava from having to reply to Tate’s words regarding their future, of what she would expect should they even contemplate marrying.

  “Ava, this is Mr. Shelly the Runner I was telling you about. Mr. Shelly this is Miss. Knight, my neighbor from Berkshire, and who came to my aid on the night of the fire at Cleremore.”

  The man bowed in her direction. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss. Knight.”

  Whatever Ava had pictured the Runner to look like it was certainly not what stood before her. This man was as tall as the duke and just as broad across the shoulders. His face, although not as pleasant as the duke’s, in her opinion, he was certainly still very pleasing to the opposite sex with his dark, short locks and vibrant emerald eyes she’d not ever seen the like of before.

  They all sat, and once settled, the duke said, “You have some information for us I understand.”

  Mr. Shelly threw her a curious glance and Ava smiled, knowing exactly what the poor man was thinking. What was a woman doing here in what should only be gentlemen’s business?

  “You may speak freely in front of Miss. Knight. She knows of everything that has been occurring in Berkshire, and I do not hide anything from her.”

  Ava couldn't help the warm comforting feeling that engulfed her at the duke’s words. He was such a very good man. She would be a fool indeed if she did not contemplate a future with him, but she would not if it meant sacrificing all that she’d worked so hard for.

  But now was not the time to muse over what she wanted with the duke, or he in turn. Now was the time to find out if Lord Oakes was behind the awful attacks and if there was a possibility that he could be brought to justice.

  “Of course Your Grace.” The Runner reached into his pocket and pulled out a black notebook ruffling through a few of the pages. He stopped when he came to one page that Ava could see had points written upon the paper.

  “The day you chased a gentleman in the woods and when he shot his flintlock in your direction, where unfortunately Miss. Knight was injured after a fall.” The Runner met her gaze. “I do hope you’re feeling better, Miss. Knight. I was quite distressed that the culprit had acted in such a way and toward a woman, no less.”

  Ava thanked him, knowing that if the culprit was indeed Lord Oakes that he was capable of worse deeds than shooting someone. Ava would rather go up against a gun any day, than be forced into a situation that she could not get out of or escape from. Just as Lord Oakes had tried to do to her.

  “A farmer was working nearby and heard the shot. Within moments of the gun firing, the rider in question raced past where he was standing. He does not believe he saw him. The culprit’s bandana by this time had slipped down to his neck, exposing his face. The farmer recognized this
man as none other than Lord Oakes.”

  Ava met Tate’s gaze and read the hope in his eyes that his lordship would soon be locked away and incapable of any more damage. To think she would not have worry about him ever again, be scared he would turn up at her door in the middle of the night and force himself upon her, finish what he started, sent hope soaring through her blood. He would be punished once and for all.

  “I have men following Lord Oakes wherever his travels take him. We are watching where he goes, what business he deals in while in London and if he travels outside of the city, we’ll know about it.”

  “This is encouraging news,” the duke said. “Can we prove Lord Oakes was not in London on the day of the Cleremore fire or when Miss. Knight and I were shot at?”

  “We can,” the Runner replied, “On both counts. We called at his lordship’s London home and had a very insightful chat with his cook. The woman was quite willing to talk since we gifted her a crown. It also became known that his lordship is behind by a month on the servants’ wages. The cook stated that although she didn’t know where his lordship had gone, he had indeed traveled out of London. Of course, this is a commoner’s word against a lord’s, and that goes for the farmer as well. It is not enough evidence to prove his guilt, and if this did go to trial we would surely lose. But it is a start.”’

  Ava frowned. This was all good information but it was not enough to bring Lord Oakes down. “What is your next step?”

  The Runner grinned. “Lord Oakes will slip up at some stage and when he does, we’ll be ready and waiting for him. In my experience, when they think they have outsmarted everyone, they do something that’s not part of their original plan, and the knot they tie about themselves starts to unravel.”

  The duke nodded, seemingly pleased. “He’s in London right now, and I’ve not been notified of any other fires from our home county. When we return to Berkshire, and if Lord Oakes too departs to his country estate, it will be interesting to see if any more incendiary attempts occur.”