She Tempts the Duke

by Lorraine Heath

  From one side of the corner spread a wall of shelves lined with books dotted with an assortment of globes that revealed continents, islands, and oceans. Various sizes, shaded differently. He wondered if his brother had collected them as a means to follow his brothers’ travels, even though he knew not where they were. Or did the globes serve more as a testament that he’d been left behind? Tristan scoffed at his analytical mind that wanted to examine and understand all things. Perhaps his brother simply fancied globes.

  “Don’t you find it odd?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “What?” Rafe didn’t even bother to glance up.

  “That he goes to visit with Mary and returns in need of a woman.”

  With a deep put-upon sigh, Rafe tossed his ink pen aside, leaned back in his chair, and gave his brother a withering glare. “You are obviously under the mistaken impression that I both have time for and relish your intrusion.”

  Tristan was not to be put off. He strode over to the chair in front of the desk and sank into it with practiced ease. He took some pleasure in the tightening of his brother’s jaw. It was almost like when they were lads and he’d irritate him on purpose just to get him riled, hoping their father would scold Rafe, but it was always Tristan who was at the receiving end of the sharp tongue or the birch switch. “There was once a woman who I wanted to bed with a fierceness that nearly unmanned me, but she was the daughter of the tribal chief on the island where we weighed anchor. I could not have her but I nearly drowned in feminine bodies while I was there.”

  “So you’re explaining to me that you’re a cad with neither morals nor conscience?”

  “Considering the type of establishment you run, I would not be so quick to cast aspersions upon my character.” He quickly held up his hand as he saw the temper flare in Rafe’s eyes. “Forgive me. I am not judging you. My point was that if he lusted after Mary, he might return here to slake that lust.”

  “Why should I make this my concern?”

  “Did you fail to notice that he is hardly a handsome fellow these days? To face the situation squarely, we must admit that it will be a challenge for him to secure a wife.”

  “So you wish to play matchmaker?”

  A chill went through Tristan. Was that where he was going with this? Matrimonial bonds were exactly that. Bonds. Chains. Captivity. Did he wish that on his brother?

  “I wouldn’t go that far. But it would be satisfying to see matters between them return to what they once were. He and Mary were always spending time together, traipsing through the forests. She has grown into a beauty, while he—”

  “Is a beast?”

  Sebastian’s voice barked behind him. It was a testament to Tristan’s stalwart disposition that he did not so much as flinch, that he gave no indication he was startled. Instead he merely glowered at Rafe. “Thank you, Brother, for the warning.”

  A corner of Rafe’s mouth quirked up, a glimmer of mischief touched his eyes for the span of a heartbeat, and in that time Tristan saw a shadow of the boy his brother had once been. “I told you that you were under the mistaken impression that I had time for this nonsense.”

  Tristan threw an arm back over the chair and twisted around to meet Sebastian’s unnerving stare. It was somehow worse that he could deliver such a powerful message with only one frosty eye. “How was Mary?”

  “Well.”

  “And Flo?”

  If at all possible Sebastian’s glare became even more menacing. “I am going to Easton House to watch Uncle as he packs to leave. I thought I would see if you both wished to come with me.”

  “I have more pressing matters that require my attention,” Rafe said.

  “More pressing than reclaiming what is ours?” Tristan asked, studying his brother as though he didn’t know him. He supposed he really didn’t.

  “I did my part by accompanying you both to the damned ball. I don’t need to see the packing.”

  “Rafe is right,” Sebastian said. “He was with us when it counted most. What I intend to do now is little more than relish the outcome.”

  Tristan rose to his feet. “Then by all means, let’s go relish.”

  With mischief in their eyes and secretive smiles, Ladies Hermione and Victoria arrived at precisely half past two. While Mary attended balls, parties, and soirees, she had never had an official coming out. She had simply begun to appear at events, tagging along after her aunt and cousin. She was tolerated with mild curiosity. Her betrothal to Fitzwilliam had raised her stature somewhat, but with no brother to inherit her father’s title, she was hardly sought after for gossip or connections. But whatever her lack in standing, the ladies sitting in her drawing room could hardly be bothered with it. They were on the hunt for much larger game.

  “So they are friends of yours … these lords from last night?” Lady Hermione asked pointedly. Both she and Victoria were sitting on the edge of their chairs, as though Mary’s answer would determine their futures.

  “Our country estates rest beside each other’s, so we grew up riding our horses over the same hills, exploring the same forests.” Her answer did not seem to impress the ladies. In fact, they seemed rather baffled by it, and she realized they had probably grown up caring for their porcelain dolls. Mary had much preferred the outdoor pursuits, especially when she could entice Sebastian away from his studies. Often Tristan or Rafe would join them, but they would soon grow bored with their adventures while Mary and Sebastian could always find something of interest.

  “It was rather naughty of them to run away,” Lady Victoria said, her squeaky voice propelling Mary back to the present.

  “Their uncle wished them harm.”

  “My papa says we can’t know that for sure.”

  Mary stared at her, hardly able to believe that after what they had witnessed last night, anyone would have doubts. But then what had they witnessed? Three younger men treating their uncle shabbily while he proclaimed to have their best interests at heart. Sebastian was correct. Even if she told them what she’d overheard they might not believe her. It could very well do more harm than good, so she held her tongue when she wished dearly to use it with ferocity.

  “Their reason for leaving is hardly important,” Lady Hermione said, further confounding Mary. “The point is that they are unlike any gentlemen we’ve ever met. Frightfully fascinating in a rough sort of way. And devilishly handsome with a touch of wickedness about them. While the duke was carrying on with his uncle I managed to capture Lord Tristan’s gaze last night, and I swear he looked at me as though he could envision me without my unmentionables.”

  She wanted to say that flirting with young ladies was probably the last thing on any of the gentlemen’s minds as they had stood on the stairs reclaiming their birthright. But these silly girls were so sheltered and innocent that Mary felt ancient sitting here with them. They viewed the lords as little more than the latest in entertainment.

  “Have they means?” Lady Victoria asked.

  Perhaps a bit more than entertainment. Possibly husbands apparently. “I’m not familiar with their individual fortunes, but Keswick has inherited a dukedom. At one time Pembrook was instrumental in the wool industry. I suspect it will be again.”

  “Their clothes were finely tailored, well-fit, and the latest fashion. Shoes were polished. Hair was a bit long but I rather liked it.”

  Mary was once again left speechless. These ladies seemed to only care about trivial matters. She supposed it was a result of their sheltered lives. They’d prepared for marriage, and suddenly a trio of fascinating men had stepped onto the marriage block.

  Lady Hermione took a sip of her tea as though only out of politeness, then set aside her cup and saucer. “Here is the reason for our visit. We would like to call upon the duke and we were hoping that you could provide us with a proper introduction.”

  “I have no intention of providing guided tours to his residence.”

  “Of course not, but surely you will visit your old chums, and if we trave
led with you … well, it could be quite pleasant for everyone.”

  “Is your mother aware that you have this plan?”

  Lady Hermione was taken aback by the pointed question. “Absolutely not.”

  “To be quite honest,” Lady Victoria said, “we were warned to steer clear of them. Papa views them as trouble.”

  “Which makes them all the more appealing,” Lady Hermione said. “If you will not escort us to their residence, will you at least encourage them to attend my ball late next week? You would be doing me an incredible favor. It would make my ball talked about almost as much as Lord David’s.”

  “I heard his wife returned home to her mother this morning,” Lady Victoria said. “Ghastly state of affairs for her.”

  “I would not want to be in her slippers,” Lady Hermione concurred. “But then I never understood her marrying him to begin with.”

  “The possibility of title, wealth, and power,” Lady Victoria said. “It is the same reason that some lady will agree to marry the present hideous Duke of Keswick.”

  “He’s not hideous,” Mary snapped.

  Lady Victoria’s blue eyes widened as though she’d encountered someone who belonged in a mental asylum. “My dear, did you not catch a glimpse of his face?”

  “A man is more than his features.”

  “True, but one must consider that those features will greet one each morning at the breakfast table. I’m quite sure it would upset my digestion.”

  Mary shot to her feet. “I believe you ladies have overstayed your welcome. I shall have the butler see you out.”

  Both ladies rose. “But you will provide an introduction,” Lady Hermione said, her voice wavering between a statement and a question.

  “After all the unkind words that have been said here regarding the duke, why would you desire an introduction?”

  “Not one to the duke, dear girl. Lords Tristan and Rafe Easton.”

  Mary shook her head. “I believe they would take as unkindly to your sentiments regarding their brother as I.”

  “Do you fancy him for yourself? The duke?”

  Mary could only stare at her in disbelief. “I’m betrothed to Lord Fitzwilliam. My regard toward him remains ever constant.” She was determined to dispel any such nonsense regarding her affections for Sebastian. Fitzwilliam deserved, and would have, her loyalty.

  Lady Hermione turned to Lady Victoria. “Wait for me in the entry hallway.”

  “But—”

  “Please.”

  Once Lady Victoria left, Lady Hermione gave all her attention to Mary. “She said unkind words, and I should not be made to suffer simply because we traveled here in the same carriage. I was quite taken with Lord Tristan and I would dearly love to ensure that he is taken with me. If you believe at all in love, please see to this favor for me.”

  “You haven’t even spoken to him. How can you love him?”

  She placed her gloved hand over her breast. “The heart needs not an exchange of words. It simply knows.”

  With a sigh, Mary felt all the fight go out of her. “I cannot guarantee success, but I shall speak with the duke if our paths should cross.”

  “I can ask for no more than that. Thank you.”

  She walked out and Mary sank back into the chair. She wondered if Sebastian was aware that confronting his uncle might be the easiest of all his tasks. Being accepted by the nobility might prove to be much more of a challenge.

  Chapter 7

  Lurking in the shadows of the park across the street from the London residence, Sebastian watched the flurry of activity. He and Tristan had come and gone several times since yesterday afternoon, but now they waited because the sun would soon make its appearance and the deadline he’d given his uncle would be upon them. He didn’t intend to allow the man to remain in residence one moment longer than he’d already declared. It seemed Lord David understood the weight of the threat. Two coaches and a wagon were loaded to overflowing, the horses impatiently pawing at the cobblestone, their whickers echoing through the fog. His uncle had amassed an inordinate amount of possessions in the intervening years.

  “I suppose truthfully,” Tristan murmured, “if he used Keswick funds to purchase all that garbage that it’s yours.”

  “He’s welcome to it. I have no intention of splitting hairs as long as he takes nothing that belonged to Father. For now I simply want him out.”

  “And then?”

  “Destroy him. His credit, his credibility. I want him begging on the streets.”

  “I still don’t fancy the notion of him drawing in air.”

  “Killing him would shorten his suffering. I wish to prolong it.”

  “There is satisfaction in that, I suppose. What are your plans regarding yourself?”

  “Unfortunately, I shall have to remain here for a time to secure my place and to find a wife.”

  He was well aware it wouldn’t be an easy task, but it needed to be done. He didn’t delude himself into believing it would be a love match. He wasn’t certain that he had the ability to love. Not any longer. The years since he left he’d not felt anything toward any woman—other than lust. That he seemed to have in abundance, even where Mary was concerned. Although it had certainly been lacking when Rafe had sent the woman to him.

  Flo. He remembered her name only because Tristan had mentioned her several times since, trying to determine his satisfaction with her efforts. Why Tristan should care was beyond Sebastian’s reasoning. He’d forgotten the woman’s name two seconds after she’d given it to him. Which had made it rather awkward ten minutes later when it became obvious that whatever his needs, she couldn’t satisfy them. She’d then sent a raven-haired beauty to him, but he’d had no interest in her either. And he’d greeted the red-haired wench who followed with an immediate request that she depart. If he hadn’t had such a strong reaction to Mary’s nearness, he’d have thought the war had taken more than his sight on one side. But he had reacted. For the first time in a terribly long time. He had reacted with a fierceness that verged on barbaric.

  “I realize that we have a good bit of time to make up for, but aren’t you rushing it a little there, when it comes to securing a wife?” Tristan asked. “Good Lord, we’re only six and twenty. I don’t plan to marry until I’m at least forty—if then.”

  Six and twenty? How could he possibly be that young? He felt as though he were on the far side of thirty. “I want to be on display as short a time as possible.”

  “And do you have a lady in mind?”

  “If I did, I would already be on my way back to Pembrook.”

  “Perhaps you seek to achieve too much too quickly.”

  “Good God, Tristan, I’ve had twelve years to ponder it all. To scheme, to plan, to dream. Surely you have done the same.”

  His brother kept his gaze fastened on the activity across the street. “While I’ll admit that I quite enjoyed being unfettered, returning to Society is all I thought of. I quite fancied being a lord again, and having any woman I want at my beck and call.”

  “Have you someone in mind?”

  “Hardly, but my time at sea gave me a knack for discovering buried treasures. Although I must admit that I take equal pleasure in the search as much as in the discovery.” He nodded toward the residence. “It appears the imposer is set to take his leave.”

  Sebastian shifted his gaze to the departing carriages. They didn’t carry the ducal crest. It seemed his uncle had taken his threats seriously. He was to take nothing that didn’t belong to him. The horses and wheels clattered over the cobblestone drive, echoing through the fog as the first rays of sunlight began to ease their way into the city. He listened until the sounds were absorbed by distance, then he gave a nod to the man on horseback waiting even further back in the shadows. The man took off in a trot in the direction that Lord David had gone.

  “When you discover where he seeks refuge?” Tristan asked.

  “Then I shall know where to confront him when I’m ready and better
savor his decline.” He would begin by ensuring all funds to him were cut off.

  “How long shall we wait before entering the residence here?”

  “I wish to relish the moment.”

  “He’s not coming.”

  Rafe. He kept impossible hours. Working through the night, sleeping through the day. Still, while he’d known that his brother had important matters with which to deal the day before, Sebastian had hoped he would find the time, make the effort, to be with them this morning as they finally realized the fruition of their efforts. “I fear he despises me.”

  “He was ten. Too young to truly comprehend what was happening or the danger that dogged our heels. He saw us both riding away, and didn’t understand that we, too, would part company. He thought we were up to our usual tricks—us, the twins, against him.”

  “He told you all this?”

  “Of course not, but it doesn’t take a genius to deduce it all.”

  “You’ve become quite the observer of men.”

  Tristan grinned. “And women. Although I must confess that I much prefer observing the fairer sex. Men are far too easy to understand. But women … I rather enjoy the challenge they offer.”

  Sebastian chuckled. He laughed so seldom these days that the scratchy noise sounded foreign to his ears. “Do you take anything seriously?”

  “Contrary to how it may appear, I take everything damned seriously.” He nodded toward the residence. “Have you done enough relishing?”

  He glanced around, felt a tightening in his chest at the sight that had been denied him because that portion of the street was not within his limited line of vision. “One moment more,” he said quietly, but unable to withhold the jubilation that soared through him.

  Tristan glanced back over his shoulder. “Well, I’ll be damned. Good thing I didn’t make a wager on this outcome.”

  For up the street strode Rafe. While he always dressed properly when wandering about his establishment, his clothing this morning was a cut above. Black jacket, pristine white shirt and cravat, gray waistcoat, and fawn trousers. He used a walking stick to pace his steps. His beaver hat sat at a rakish angle. He could have been any lord out for a morning walk. In fact, he was.