A Most Unlikely Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  “That’s wonderful news, Gabby. I’m so happy for you.” When Gabriella failed to elaborate, she puckered her brow. “Does he not feel the same way about you?”

  “Oh no,” Gabriella hastily shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s all the obstacles we face. I’m worried that things won’t turn out the way we want them to—that we won’t be able to be together.”

  “It’s my fault. If I’d stayed and married Bellmore the way I was supposed to, you would have had more freedom to marry Huntley.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Gabby. I made a terrible mistake.”

  “You thought yourself in love.”

  “No. I didn’t, Gabby. Not really—not now that I know what love is supposed to feel like. It was just a meaningless attraction and I allowed it to win against my better judgment.”

  “At least you have Lucy and Ben now,” Gabriella said, hoping to offer comfort.

  “Yes. I’ve no regrets there. Ben is a good man. I’m sure we’ll be very happy together. But it was a struggle getting here—to this point. There were times when I lost hope—when I was certain that I would die poor, unhappy and forgotten. So don’t lose hope, Gabby. Huntley’s a wealthy duke and the two of you love each other. You’ve already got a lot more than I had when Connolly left me.”

  Encouraged by her words, Gabriella made a deliberate effort to set her concerns aside and enjoy her sister’s company until Raphe returned.

  Arriving at Fielding House, Raphe waited for a footman to open the carriage door before stepping down. Today he would play the role of duke to perfection with the intention of letting Fielding understand that he was not to be trifled with. Least of all when it came to Gabriella. So he climbed down and ascended the front steps with a brisk no-nonsense stride.

  “The Duke of Huntley,” he told the butler in greeting. Raphe handed him his card. “I’m here to see the earl.”

  A pair of bushy eyebrows drew together. “Please come in,” the butler said. He closed the door behind Raphe. “I’ll see if his lordship’s at home.”

  “He’d better be,” Raphe murmured under his breath.

  The butler either didn’t hear him or pretended not to as he strode away, returning only moments later with a strained expression. “My apologies, Your Grace, but the earl is apparently out.”

  Raphe felt his jacket draw tight across his back as the muscles in his shoulders tensed. “Then I’ll wait for him to return.”

  “I, err . . . ah . . . of course.” He looked around uncertainly. “Perhaps you’d care to have a seat in the parlor? I can have some tea brought up for you.”

  “Thank you.” He allowed the servant to show him through to a pretty room with spindly furniture that looked too fragile to hold a man of his size. So he positioned himself by the fireplace instead and waited for the butler to leave.

  Three seconds later, Raphe was back in the hallway and striding toward the part of the house where he’d seen the butler go earlier. Popping his head into every room that he passed along the way, he eventually found his quarry in the library.

  Seated in an armchair, the earl looked up from the newspaper he was reading as Raphe stepped into the room. “What the—”

  “So you’re also a liar then, telling me you’re out when you’re actually not.” He took a seat across from Fielding. “Worse than that, you made your butler lie on your behalf.” Leaning forward, he glared across at his adversary. “Rather cowardly, wouldn’t you say?”

  Fielding set his paper aside and narrowed his gaze on Raphe. The top of his lip began to curl in an unattractive snarl that proved his lack of restraint. “I ought to call you out for your insolence. How dare you come into my home without invitation?”

  A rapid clicking of heels announced the butler’s arrival. “My lord,” he gasped as he spotted Raphe. “I’m so sorry. I showed His Grace into the parlor but—”

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Norton. I am aware of the duke’s shortcomings. Unfortunately they’re difficult to ignore.” He waved toward the servant in a dismissive manner. “You may leave us now.”

  Raphe watched as the flustered butler backed away, apologizing one more time before shutting the door behind him. With a shake of his head, Raphe turned his attention back to Fielding. “You’re an arrogant bastard. Do you know that?”

  Fielding’s eyes narrowed. “Which do you favor? Pistols or swords?”

  “Neither.”

  “Now who’s being a coward?” But Fielding didn’t wait for Raphe to answer. He added swiftly, “My education and upbringing are superior to yours, Huntley. That’s not arrogance—that’s plain fact.”

  “And yet, I outrank you.” Raphe allowed a smirk. “Funny, don’t you think?”

  “Hilarious.”

  Raphe studied him a second. Oh, how he’d love to knock that haughty expression from the blighter’s face. He grit his teeth in preparation for battle. “Break off the engagement to Lady Gabriella.”

  “So you can have her instead?” Fielding scoffed, leaned back, and crossed his legs. “That’s never going to happen.”

  “No?” Raphe held himself in check. “Not even if I tell the world that you tricked her? What would people say if they discovered that she never agreed to marry you and that you’re holding her hostage—using her fear of scandal and her family’s misfortune against her in your greedy attempt to acquire her fortune?”

  A muscle twitched at the edge of Fielding’s mouth. “It would be your word against mine.”

  “True. But are you really willing to take that risk?”

  “I repeat: pistols or swords? We’ll meet at dawn. The winner gets Lady Gabriella.”

  “You seem fairly confident of the outcome.”

  “I’m aware of my skill with both weapons.” His mouth twisted with disdain. “You’ll lose.”

  Tilting his head, Raphe finally smiled. “Arrogance, Fielding. It’ll be your downfall.” The earl’s face darkened to a shade of uncomely red. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Raphe went on. “The worst mistake you can ever make in a fight is to underestimate your opponent. But the truth is that I have the advantage.”

  “How?”

  “You challenged me, Fielding. That means that I decide how we go about this. But we won’t be firing pistols or dueling with swords. We’ll be using our fists.”

  “What? That’s preposterous, Huntley. Nobody duels with their fists!”

  “There’s a first time for everything, Fielding.” Raphe’s smile spread until he was practically grinning. He’d suspected that goading the earl would lead to this, and so it had. But the earl no longer looked as self-assured as he had a moment earlier. “And since you’re the one challenging me, I get to choose the terms, and I choose fists, tonight at Gentleman Jackson’s. Unless of course you wish to renege.”

  “Renege?” Fielding’s eyes had taken on a look of distinct panic.

  “Think about it, Fielding. I’m taller and broader than you are. I train on a daily basis in order to keep myself physically fit while you look like the sort of man whose idea of sport is going for a ride in the park. I’ve fought against hardened laborers, men who wanted to knock my head off my shoulders, and I’ve won—every time. Don’t make the mistake of facing me in the ring on account of pride.” Leaning back, he held Fielding’s gaze. “Either way, you lose Lady Gabriella, but you can choose to avoid the humiliation of losing to me in front of a crowd by simply walking away.”

  It took ten more minutes for Raphe to convince Fielding that the odds were too great against him, and for the stubborn earl to finally agree to back down. He didn’t shake the hand Raphe offered him, and he didn’t respond when Raphe bid him a good day, the glower in his eyes following Raphe like a black shadow until he left Fielding House with the hope of never having to deal with the earl again.

  But the pleasure his victory over Fielding had brought was swept aside and replaced by a new concern the moment he returned home and Richardson handed him a letter.

  Sighing,
Raphe dropped down onto his chair and read the ugly scrawl. He then asked, “Is Lady Gabriella still here?”

  “She is in the music room with your sisters and Lady Victoria,” Richardson told him.

  “I’d like to give her an update on my visit with Fielding. And I’ll need to tell her about this.” He jabbed the letter with his finger as he leaned back in his seat. “Can you please ask her to come and see me?”

  She arrived moments later with a wary smile about her lips. “How did it go?”

  Rising to greet her, Raphe strode around his desk and clasped her hands between his own. “You’re free of him. He’s letting you go.”

  A whoosh of air escaped her. “How?” She stared at him as though he’d performed a miracle, and he realized that in a way, perhaps he had.

  “I insulted him, he challenged me to a duel, and I threatened to give him the thrashing that he deserves.”

  Her eyes went wide, her lips parted, and then she suddenly laughed as she flung her arms around his neck and pressed a series of kisses to his cheek. As much as he wanted to lose himself in the moment—to close the door to his study and show her what it meant for her to be his—Gabriella needed to know about the news he’d just received. So he pulled back, unraveling her arms from around his neck, and met her joyous gaze.

  “There’s something you need to know,” he said. “The boxing match I told you about will take place in about a week and a half. There’s no getting out of it. It’s been confirmed.”

  The reminder of what was at stake made Gabriella stiffen. But only for a second. Burying her fears somewhere deep down inside her, she squared her shoulders, determined to do the right thing and stand by his side. “I’d like to come and watch. If you’ll allow it.”

  Surprise sprang to his eyes. He stared at her. “It will hardly be fitting for a lady to attend such a spectacle. And I would never—as much as I appreciate your support, I would never—”

  “Boxing has been a monumental part of your life until recently. I would like to be there, not just for support, but to catch a glimpse of that part of you.”

  “Your parents will never allow it.”

  “They needn’t know,” she told him fiercely. Her love for him—for this man who’d done so much for her—made being there for him the most important thing in the world right now; more important than her parents’ opinions, more important than Society’s approval, and more important than her own reputation. There was nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice for him. She’d even walk through fire if she had to. So she told him firmly, “But even if they were to find out about it, I wouldn’t care. This is a large part of who you are, and I refuse to turn my back on that.”

  He stared at her for a long, drawn-out moment until her legs felt weak and her mind went numb with the worry that she might have said the wrong thing. She’d just begun tracking over all her words when he spoke in a gravelly tone. “Do you have any idea how incredible you are?” Admiration lit up his eyes. But there was something deeper, too; a tender warmth that made her insides melt.

  Unable to utter a word, Gabriella kept quiet. The clock ticked loudly on Huntley’s desk. He flexed his fingers, his throat working as if to keep some inner turmoil at bay. “It would be too dangerous for you to be there,” he finally said. “The crowd can be unpredictable.”

  “I needn’t be in the middle of it. I can stand to one side.”

  “Gabriella.”

  Her name was spoken with a gruffness that instantly reminded her of hot kisses and gentle fingers caressing. “Yes?” she asked, aware of her own raspy tone.

  He took a breath, his chest straining with the effort. His jaw tightened and then he moved toward her, closing the distance with precise steps. His hands settled against her shoulders, producing a slow burn that weakened her limbs. Instinctively, she sagged forward against his chest, desperate for the closeness and needing the support. He wound his arms around her waist, holding her in a possessive grip that made her feel so incredibly treasured. “If anything were to happen to you,” he murmured against the top of her head, “I’d never forgive myself. In fact, it would likely kill me.”

  Gabriella’s throat tightened with emotion, her stomach twisting itself inside out as his words settled in her consciousness. His love for her ran just as deep as hers did for him. Nothing else would compel such concern for her welfare. Nothing else would have made him fight for her with such unrelenting determination. He wanted to keep her safe—protected. But she wouldn’t allow him to keep her away. Not when she’d chosen to share the rest of her life with him. “Perhaps Richardson will be there cheering you on? I can go with him.”

  His hold on her tightened before loosening once more. “Why must you be so stubborn?”

  “Because I love you, Raphe, and because I worry for your safety just as you worry for mine. I need to be there to see the match, not sitting at home fretting over the outcome. I’ll go mad doing that.”

  He held her gaze until she felt his love for her pouring through her. And then he nodded. “If Coventry agrees to go as well, so you have two men watching your back, I’ll consider it.”

  “Thank you!” Tilting her head back, she looked up at his handsome face. It was mid-afternoon; hours since his morning shave. His jaw was beginning to show hints of stubble. Reaching up, Gabriella brushed her thumb across it, the abrasiveness sending a thrill of energy straight to her toes. She longed to deepen the bond, between them—to give him everything. No boundaries. But they were presently in his study with a house full of servants and sisters—both his and hers.

  “I’m not guaranteeing anything,” he warned her.

  She nodded to ease his concerns. But she now felt confident that she would manage to be there for him when he took on his opponent in a match that would likely go down in history as one of the most memorable ever. She was sure he’d be victorious, and didn’t want to miss sharing that with him.

  He searched her face. “Gabriella.” His hand slipped to the back of her head, supporting her there as he leaned in closer, his scent infusing her awareness with a thrill of anticipation. And then his lips touched hers, his strength and vitality pouring through her as he pressed his hand to her lower back and molded them together. He was all power and pure masculinity, his body firm, his manner rough with a passion she’d never allowed herself to dream of. “You drive me to distraction,” he murmured as he kissed his way along her jawline. “You make me want the impossible.”

  A gasp was all the response she could manage as his teeth grazed her earlobe in a gentle nibble. “We’ll make it possible,” she promised. With a low growl, he playfully bit into her shoulder as though marking her as his. The thrill was impossible for her to ignore, the fire it lit producing a molten heat in her veins. It stirred to life an unrepentant thirst in her that only he would be able to quench. “I only want you.”

  “And you will be mine now, Gabriella.” He spoke the promise with conviction. “But—” Straightening himself, he stared down at her upturned face while his thumb tracked a path across her kiss-swollen lips. “We need to restrain ourselves a little—however difficult that may be.”

  As if to punctuate the truth in his statement, the door to the study swung wide open at that exact moment. “Oh!” It was Amelia, who’d come in search of her brother. “I—err . . .”

  Releasing Gabriella, Raphe stepped away from her to add an appropriate amount of distance. “Yes?” he asked, addressing his sister.

  A mischievous grin formed on Amelia’s lips. Gabriella blushed. “Please tell me that the two of you have agreed to marry,” she said without preamble. “It will make this—” She gestured toward the two of them with her hands. “So much easier.”

  Raphe darted a look at Gabriella before returning his attention to his sister. “Was there something you wanted?” he asked, ignoring her comment.

  “Yes,” she said with a little frown of displeasure. “Juliette and I would like to visit the modiste so we can order gowns for the ball you’re pl
anning to host.”

  “You’re hosting a ball?” Gabriella asked, looking at Raphe.

  “Amelia suggested it and I agreed after she and Juliette had been pestering me about being out with nowhere to go,” he explained.

  “Well,” Gabriella said, “I think it’s a wonderful idea—the perfect opportunity for all of you to make a new impression on everyone.”

  “So can we go then?” Amelia asked. “I believe it will take at least a week for the gowns we order to be made.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Raphe expelled a deep breath. “We’ve talked about this already. I don’t like the idea of Julie going out to places where there’s a chance of her catching any number of ailments.”

  “You’re being a blockhead,” Amelia told him angrily.

  “Am I really?” He shot back. “As I recall, Julie got the measles the last time we went on an outing, and was very sick as a result of it.”

  “You don’t know that she got it then. She might have gotten it in St. Giles before we even moved here. If you’ll recall, there was a measles outbreak there a couple of months ago. Perhaps the symptoms took time to surface.”

  “She never ventured outside when we were living there,” Raphe said. “So I don’t see how she would have caught it.”

  “Neither do I,” Amelia told him grimly. “The point is that you cannot keep her locked up as your prisoner just because you’re afraid she might get sick.”

  “What I’m afraid of,” Raphe clipped, his wavering words conveying a vulnerability that shot straight through Gabriella’s heart, “is losing her because I failed to protect her. She’s not as strong as you, Amelia.”

  “I know that. Julie knows it, too. Good lord, Raphe, we’ve been over this a dozen times! At some point you’re going to have to give her the freedom to live her own life, no matter the dangers.”

  “She’s right,” Gabriella whispered, drawing his attention. “Your sisters are out now. They deserve to be able to go shopping together or to visit museums or enjoy a carriage ride in the park like other young ladies. Being seen will also help with their eligibility, and—your intention is for both of them to secure husbands, is it not?”