The Duke's Daring Debutante (Regency Historical Romance)

by Ann Lethbridge

  The pain in his voice squeezed a fist in her chest. ‘It was my decision. I thought I had time. I did not mean for him to find me.’ She glanced down at the miniature clenched in her hand. ‘I had to be sure.’

  He glanced her way, shadows deep in his eyes. Sadness. ‘If you had trusted me more, you would have waited for my return.’ He shook his head. ‘But I do not blame you. Not one bit. And I certainly will not hold you to our betrothal,’ he added softly. ‘I know it is not going to work. Cry off, but give it a week or so. The ton will not be pleased at having been dragged out here for nothing.’

  Oh, no! How could she tell him she loved him now? He would think it was all about his title and not about him. Oh, why hadn’t she spoken of what was in her heart when he had? Now he was giving her what she’d thought she wanted.

  Or was she being a fool yet again? Perhaps he hadn’t meant what he’d said. Perhaps he was glad he’d found the way out of a marriage he had never wanted. He knew the truth of her relationship with Moreau now. A man of his standing would certainly have trouble explaining a wife who had taken England’s enemy to her bed. Something Moreau would no doubt delight in relating to anyone who would listen, even if he no longer had the proof.

  ‘It is likely for the best,’ she said, half hoping he would disagree. And the other half, the honourable half, hoping not.

  He nodded.

  Impenetrable cold clenched around her heart as he turned and headed for the door.

  ‘Freddy,’ she said.

  He hesitated. So slightly she almost didn’t catch it, but that tiny hesitation provided the courage she needed.

  ‘What if I don’t cry off?’ she asked. ‘What then?’

  He stopped, turned back, his expression impenetrable. ‘Then you’ll be tied to a man you will end up hating because we will never spend another night under the same roof.’

  He walked out.

  * * *

  A clock chimed one in the morning. Freddy stared at the note he’d written, but instead he saw Minette’s face, her pained expression at his rejection. He hadn’t expected it to hurt her. He’d expected relief. Damn it all, what had made him say what he had out there in the darkness on the lawn? The laughter? He couldn’t remember laughing like that since his brother had died. No. Hell, no. He was still pretending, lying to himself. His brother hadn’t died. He’d killed him. Intentionally or not, the accident had been his fault. Being sorry didn’t change what had happened or make it any less his fault.

  What if she did insist on going forward with the wedding? Out of pity? For that was all it could possibly be. He could not in all honour walk away.

  The pain of longing struck his heart.

  And then what? He went cold inside. He’d never resist the temptation of having her under his roof. Past experiences proved he would not. God, he’d made love to her twice already and, despite being careful, she could even now be carrying his child.

  They would have to wait to know for certain, before they called off the engagement. Even he wasn’t villain enough to abandon a woman carrying his child. Where the hell was his famous cold reserve when it came to Minette? His control. He’d have to talk to her in the morning before she left with Gabe. Make it clear that she must not cry off for a month or two. Just in case. A bubble of hope rose in his chest. What if she was pregnant?

  Dear God. He closed his eyes. If she was, it would be a dream come true, and his worst nightmare.

  He blinked his thoughts away, forced himself to focus on the task at hand. The resignation Sceptre had insisted upon. He’d been exposed and was no longer useful. Brief and to the point. He signed it. Folded it. Melted wax in the candle, surprised to see that despite his inner turmoil his hand remained steady. One drop. Two. He put the candle and the wax aside and pressed his seal into the blob.

  Done.

  Over.

  What the hell was he to do now?

  A whisper of sound behind him. He spun around.

  Minette. In her nightgown, her unbound hair a soft fall over her shoulders, her face pale, her eyes wary. God, she look so lovely standing there in a gown so sheer he could see the outline of her form, the thrust of her breasts and hardened nipples, the dark triangle at the apex of her lovely slender legs. He rose to his feet, aware of the pounding of blood in his ears. And farther south. ‘What the deuce are you doing here?’

  ‘Don’t you want to know what I have decided?’

  For a moment he couldn’t make sense of her words. He had never been in any doubt what she would decide. No woman would take the kind of rejection he had delivered and think about it. Unless the worst had happened.

  His heart leaped as if to greet her, pull her close.

  He backed away lest he be tempted to do something they would both regret. ‘Tell me in the morning. There is one more thing we needed to discuss.’

  ‘I am here now,’ she said softly, with an enquiring tilt of her head.

  Damn it all. ‘I am asking you to wait awhile before you announced that we do not suit. There is a reason to wait.’ His lips felt stiff and awkward. It was hard to form the words, but he could leave nothing to chance. ‘Obviously, if you are with child as a result of our... We’ll get married.’

  She gave him a dark look. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer me to pass it off on some other man so you won’t have the trouble?’

  He flinched. ‘No. That would be dishonourable.’

  ‘Honour,’ she scoffed, as if she doubted she had a scrap. ‘Perhaps you would rather I leave for the country, discreetly abandon it on an orphanage doorstep or give it to some poor family who would be willing to raise it as their own for a large enough sum of money. I am sure you can afford it.’

  A way out. She was offering him an escape. A way not to break his vow. His child raised by strangers. And what if that child—? ‘No!’

  She recoiled.

  He’d been too forceful. ‘If it is my child, I will do my duty by it.’ Too blunt. Too, too blunt. And cold.

  A shrug of her shoulders rippled the soft fabric at her feet. ‘How very noble.’

  ‘Damn it all. What more do you want of me?’

  Her expression softened, she stepped closer. ‘I want you.’

  He stepped back, maintaining the distance between them, his body shuddering with the effort to retain the distance when he wanted to ravage her lush mouth, feel her lovely curves pressed against him, bury himself inside her. Ease the pain of his miserable past. Such a coward.

  She reached out a hand. He ignored it. ‘I’m not expecting your child.’

  The faint hope inside him died, though he had not even realised it had existed, not in any rational way. Disappointment swept through him, followed swiftly by relief. Blessed relief. Life would be so much simpler. ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘There are certain herbs a woman can take. Rape was always a risk in France and the nuns taught us how to avoid unwanted children from such an event.’

  She sounded so matter-of-fact it shocked him to the core. What must her life have been like in France? ‘And you continue to use the herbs?’

  ‘They have other beneficial effects.’ She coloured. ‘Less painful monthly visits.’

  His own face heated. This was not a conversation he should be having with a woman who was not his wife. ‘So you are saying, if we married, you could continue taking them?’ She would be the one in control. He would have to trust her not to make any mistakes. And he would have his cake and eat it, too.

  So very tempting.

  And convenient. Keep to the letter of his vow, if not the spirit. The freedom to blame any errors, deliberate or otherwise, on her. He shook his head. ‘Too risky.’

  ‘I was looking for you when I recognised Moreau by his laugh,’ she said.

  ‘He’s gone. There is no more to be s
aid about him.’

  Her expression turned stubborn. ‘I thought I was hearing things at first. When I saw him in that disguise. But I knew I was right. The opportunity was too good to miss.’ She crossed the room to peer at his collection of rocks, picking them up and putting them down as if it would help put her thoughts in order. ‘I had to get that miniature for Nicky’s sake. He would not have hesitated to find a way use it against us once he realised he was caught.’

  ‘And you have it.’ He kept his voice cold and his gaze firmly fixed on a place above her head, but it did not stop him from seeing her beautiful body as she strolled around his room, touching his things so intimately he knew he would never see the items again without thinking of her. ‘There is no more to be said.’

  ‘Vilandry was an utter pig. Nicky let him use her in order to protect me.’

  She put down a lump of granite and turned to face him. ‘She suffered years of that man for my sake. She thought I was too young to realise, but I knew. One of the maids let it fall that he liked very young girls. If Nicky hadn’t agreed when our uncle proposed the match, he would have taken me instead. He used the threat of it to keep her in line.’

  Bile rose in his throat. ‘Then it is a good thing he’s dead.’

  A painful smile curved her lips. ‘It is. I didn’t know it until much later but Moreau had visited Vilandry. Saw Nicky and wanted her. When he learned Nicky and I had escaped the fire, he searched for her. It took him a while but he found me. And I led him to Nicky.’

  The guilt in her voice pained him greatly. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘I try to tell myself that,’ she said.

  ‘No matter how many times you repeat the words, they never quite ring true, do they?’ Over and over he’d told himself he wasn’t responsible for the death of his brother.

  She smiled sadly. ‘You understand.’ She picked up the tail feather of a grouse and stroked it across her palm. ‘I spent more than a year with Pierre, as he called himself, helping him catch loyalists without realising what I was doing. It was such a grand adventure, spying, reporting back, finding little pockets of resistance, people who needed help. I thought we were fighting for the king. But slowly, slowly, his talk became more revolutionary in tone. And, fool that I was, I followed his lead. For a while. He was handsome and outrageously daring. After a life of trying to be a perfect young lady I had embarked on a grand and courageous adventure. He was my rock in my new strange world. He taught me things. About my body no decent girl should know. He encouraged my wantonness, the results of which you know.’ She glanced at him sideways from beneath lowered lashes. ‘And that you seemed to like, too, though I thought for certain you would be displeased.’

  Displeasure was the furthest thing from what he was feeling right now, with her strolling scantily dressed around his room, her fingers brushing across surfaces he hadn’t so much as looked at in years. The thought that she would never do so again was a jagged pain in the emptiness of his chest. ‘You loved him.’

  ‘I loved a man who never existed, but I do not believe I was ever in love. I was his pet. I wanted to please him so he would keep me close. I feared being abandoned. It had happened too many times already.’

  And Moreau had known it. Used it against her. Did she think he was also abandoning her? The thought tightened his throat.

  She drew in a hitching breath. ‘He used me, Freddy. And I never suspected a thing. First to trap the local loyalists and then as a lure to force Nicky to do his bidding. By then, of course, I knew the truth of who he worked for and I mitigated the damage as best I could. When we left Boulogne I was happy to be free of him. Happy his plot against Nicky had failed.’ She paused in her wandering to look at him.

  ‘It was only later I remembered the gift I had purchased for him months before. Realised the harm it could do if it was made public. I didn’t care for myself, but it would have ruined Nicky and Gabe by association. I could not allow it. Not after what she sacrificed for me.’

  ‘The miniature.’

  She opened her hand and set it on the desk. ‘A portrait of the most salacious sort. They were sold in the market. I had our faces painted in, his and mine, as a joke.’ She shrugged.

  He glanced down at the scene. A woman sprawled without shame and a man giving her pleasure with his hand, the faces easily recognizable.

  He was glad she was telling him her story. It cleared up his lingering questions about Moreau, but he could not let it matter. He deliberately did not glance at the picture again. ‘Destroy it and forget it. It is over.’

  She wandered to the window, opened the curtains a fraction and stared out into the night. ‘I think if two people really love each other there should be no secrets between them.’

  His heart gave a lurch. Stuttered, then raced. He pulled her around to face him. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘When you told me you loved me, you caught me by surprise. I was afraid. I’d said it once before to Pierre in a moment of passion, and realised I’d been mistaken in his feelings for me. I thought that by saying nothing I wouldn’t give you the power to break my heart.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘I am such a coward.’

  He cupped her cheek with his hand. ‘You are the bravest person I know. How you managed to survive alone in France... How you faced Moreau and his damned gun. I was proud of you.’

  She gave him a sad smile. ‘Not proud enough to go through with our wedding.’

  His heart contracted painfully. ‘It wouldn’t be fair. I can’t give you want you want. What every woman wants. I can’t take the risk.’

  ‘Children.’

  He nodded. ‘And I cannot control myself when you are near. I want you too much.’

  Her expression lightened a fraction at his admission. ‘I can live with not having children as long as we can be together.’

  ‘You think that now, but what if you change your mind? What then?’

  ‘I would forgo them to be with you. But, Freddy, my dearest, not having children cannot bring your brother back. You are punishing yourself for no reason. His death was an accident. You know it was. You would never have cheated. You have far too much pride. Too much honour.’

  She was right. In a way. ‘I made a vow. I can’t go back on my word.’

  ‘Your father was wrong to extract such a dreadful promise.’

  ‘He didn’t. He was horrified when I told him. But when I realised Reggie was dead I knew I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be the heir. Not and bring another child into the world like me.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You saw my foot. It is a hereditary condition, passed down through my mother. My children are likely to be born with it, too.’ She didn’t react with revulsion, as he’d expected. Her face showed only puzzlement. ‘Do you think I’d let a child go through life with such an impediment?’ He gestured downwards.

  ‘You said it didn’t hurt.’

  ‘It hurts when your family hates the sight of you, can’t bear to watch you limp around so they hide you away in the nursery. Reggie wasn’t so bad, most of the time, but Mother couldn’t stand the sight of me. I swore to myself I would never put a child of mine through the misery of growing up a cripple.’

  ‘Oh, Freddy.’

  There. There was the pity he’d fought to avoid. ‘If I don’t have children, it can’t happen.’

  ‘No child of ours would be treated so poorly.’

  Red filmed his eyes, anger along with frustration. ‘You don’t know that. Can’t know.’

  ‘You wouldn’t hold a deformity against a child any more than I would. And we would defend them from anyone who tried. Look at you. It makes very little difference to your life. You walk, ride, play cricket occasionally.’ She smiled hesitantly. ‘You even danced.’

  Something inside him cracked open. Warmth and light seemed to fill
all the dark places inside him. A grin forced its way to his lip at the memory. ‘I did. Not all that well.’

  ‘You would get better if you practised.’

  A laugh at her prosaic statement would not be stifled. He sobered. ‘Mother would never forgive me for going back on my word.’

  She looked at him solemnly. ‘Your mother has much to account for, but this is your life, mon cher.’ She frowned. ‘You say this problem comes from your mother’s side of the family. Is it possible she blames herself? That she feels guilt?’

  The truth hit him like a blow to the head, making his ears ring. Always he had hoped, even if he hadn’t fully admitted it, that by doing exactly what his mother wanted, trying to please her, she would find it in her heart to forgive him for not being perfect. For not being his brother. Perhaps even gain her love. But how could she, if she could not forgive herself?

  He’d been so heartsick, thinking he might have harmed his brother on purpose, he’d let guilt rule his life. Yet he’d always known, deep inside, he would not have cheated, and had known Reggie would have. He hadn’t been the sort of fellow to accept coming in last. Only it wasn’t the sort of thing one said about a dead man.

  Devil take it, he’d been such a fool.

  And he didn’t have to be alone—if what Minette was hinting at was true. If.

  ‘I love you,’ she said softly, as if sensing his doubt.

  A storm raged inside him, hope at war with the dread of being wrong, of once more being rejected by one he held most dear.

  ‘I love you, Freddy.’ She opened her arms.

  He walked into her embrace. ‘I love you,’ he said hoarsely, his heart feeling too large in his chest. ‘I need you.’

  ‘Yes.’ She twined her arms around his neck went up on her toes and kissed his mouth. ‘I need you, too.’

  For the first time in his life he felt as if he had come home. He had a place where he belonged.

  He carried her to the nearest flat surface. His desk. He set her on it. Standing between her thighs, kissing her until he thought he would go mad for wanting to be inside her.