Two Dukes and a Lady

by Lorna James

  “Well, please come in.” She dusted off her gloved hands. “I’ll let my uncle know you are here. It might be the one thing that will please him about me staying with him.”

  Charles gave her a sympathetic look. He probably knew her uncle preferred his bachelor ways and having a young woman in the house would be upsetting to him.

  “No,” he said. “We have to leave. We just couldn’t stay away another moment.”

  “But you just got here,” she protested. “Take me with you, at least.” She looked over her shoulder to find no one there. She could be inside their carriage, and with the curtains drawn no one would have to know she had gone riding with her friends.

  “I want to make sure there is no whiff of impropriety. Your uncle will look for any excuse to berate you—it wouldn’t do for you to be seen going for a closed carriage ride with two dukes, unchaperoned.”

  “Etiquette, be damned,” she said, wanting desperately to escape.

  “Well, in that case,” Charles said. “My turn.”

  Before she could blink, he tugged her back into his arms. Only this time, his silken mouth soothed her and lit a fire inside her that she thought was long dead. She lost track of time, only to be brought back to her senses when William wrenched Charles away.

  The two glared at each other while she blinked up at them in aroused shock.

  “We’ve arranged for a small gathering to reintroduce you to Society for your second mourning. And after that, we’ll go for that carriage ride.” William stopped glaring at Charles long enough to wink at her again.

  The promise in his eyes and the memory of their kisses made her head spin. They couldn’t just kiss her and leave.

  But after Charles pressed her flowers back into her hands, both of them bowed neatly to her and got back into the carriage.

  Chapter Three

  Her dukes had arranged for Lady Penn, Clara, to host a garden party to announce her second mourning and reintroduce her to Society, and for this Lily was most grateful. With her mother’s passing, she had few female relations to guide her, and she had never really paid attention to the finer customs of Victorian mourning. In America, grief was so much less complicated, but Lily knew that all eyes would be upon her now, and she didn’t want another scandal to make her life more difficult. Her uncle seemed to have relaxed a bit, now that Society seemed to be calling on her.

  As a young girl, Lily had not been fond of Lady Penn, who had not been born a lady at all, but the daughter of a successful wine merchant. Like many of her peers, Lady Penn had always seemed jealous of the relaxed friendship Lily had with William and Charles. Her dukes assured her that she was now a woman of taste and tact, ever since she had married her much-older husband.

  Lady Penn had come calling the very next day after Lily’s meeting with William and Charles. She had worn an extravagant green frock with a matching bag and bonnet that made Lily feel dour and pale in comparison, but Lady Penn had told her that she made “a lovely widow,” as if that was the kind of thing one woman said to another? But it had broken the ice between the two of them.

  And now they were practically best friends. Lady Penn was lending her all sorts of black crepe dresses and accessories with black ribbons of velvet, which Lily could never have afforded for her coming out of deep mourning. Lady Penn’s mother-in-law passed three years ago, so she had an entire wardrobe of black clothing to give her. It was considered bad luck to wear such clothes again, and Lady Penn had not yet gotten rid of them. She brought Lily black parasols, brooches, fans, gloves, and handkerchiefs, as well as petticoats, corsets, and pantaloons, and even black stockings. Lily had never even seen black stockings before. She was sure it all had cost a small fortune, as the accessories were from the finest British manufacturers. Lady Penn told her they were the same ones who had made the mourning attire for Queen Victoria.

  Her new friend knew all the rules of second mourning as she had her own copy of The Queen and Cassel’s, which explained what to serve, who to invite, and what time the party should start and end. Though she went through the formality of consulting with Lily, Lady Penn took great delight in being in charge. Lily was just so overwhelmed by it all, she was grateful for her guidance.

  Lady Penn implied that her widowhood, which Lily had found boring and suffocating, was the most fortunate social opportunity to come her way. “A married woman has some leeway, but a comely young widow can get away with almost anything.” She winked at her.

  Lily had no idea what she could possibly want to “get away with,” but Lady Penn and her dukes obviously had something planned.

  Lily couldn’t help wondering the real reason behind Lady Penn’s offer of friendship. Perhaps she just wanted a female friend to talk to. Or maybe it was her fascination with America, thinking the men were rougher and braver than their English counterparts. Lily was sad to disappoint her with the news that her own husband had been none of those things. Truth be told, he was only brazen in his business dealings. In the marriage bed, he had been dull and clumsy.

  By comparison, her early explorations of intimacy with William and Charles had made her heart pound. Their not-so-innocent teenage kisses had made her head swoon, but George Drew had only left her sore and disappointed. Until her recent kisses with them, she had forgotten that there could be any kind of passion or excitement between a man and woman. She had felt dead inside even before her husband’s death.

  Which made her ponder just what the “friendship” between Lady Penn and her dukes really entailed. While Lady Penn—who now insisted they call each other by their Christian names—prattled on about the amorous adventures of people Lily didn’t know, or wished she could forget, Lady Penn…Clara…never mentioned the dukes and their other lady friends.

  “Are William and Charles keeping company?” Lily tried to sound as casual as possible. Whispered news of their exploits had trickled back to her in Boston, but she feigned ignorance.

  Clara laughed, but then, she laughed a lot. “Oh my, there is barely any company that William doesn’t keep. You know what a scoundrel he is. But after that incident with the Wellington girl, he has been much more…discreet.”

  Jealousy stabbed through her. Really, she had no right to the emotion. For pity’s sake, she had been married to another man at the time. But Lily remembered Judy Wellington all too well. She was an ample-bosomed girl a year younger than her who used to throw her cleavage at William at every social gathering they attended.

  “The Wellington girl wound up being married off to an older Baron. They moved to the countryside, where she birthed an entire country estate of children.” Clara fanned herself, shaking her head. “William, of course, never saw her again.”

  Good, Lily thought viciously, surprised by her jealous feelings. “And Charles?”

  Clara laughed again. “They say he is William’s shadow, but we know why that is.” She looked expectantly at Lily, who nodded, not knowing what she was getting at.

  “Yes…they’re such good friends,” Lily said, trying to fill in the blank.

  Leaning forward, Clara whispered, “Can you keep a secret?”

  Lily nodded, wary of what she was about to hear.

  “He has painted my portrait.”

  Not surprising. Charles had always sketched. He’d once asked her to show him her ankles and other less public body parts when they were younger—in his zeal for artistic exploration, of course. His images had been quite accurate.

  “You must show it to me,” Lily said.

  “I have not even shown it to my own husband.” Clara squealed. “I am only half dressed.”

  At Lily’s shocked reaction, Clara added, “It’s very French.”

  “I’m sure.” And Lily quickly changed the subject to the cakes and teas that would be served at the party, all the while wondering just how “French” her William and Charles had become in her absence.

  It bothered Lily, though. It should have been her that Charles had painted, or her that William had been indiscr
ete with. She wondered if Lady Penn had been one of their lovers. The thought both enraged her and made her want to cry her eyes out. But she was being silly. What did it matter?

  Her life was so much different than Lady Penn’s. Instead of this beautiful mansion with servants, Lily had lived in a house that had been paid for with money her husband had stolen. Lady Penn ordered silks and jewels on credit with the full knowledge that her husband would pay her debts as he always had. Lily’s gowns had been purchased with embezzled funds that should have been used to feed hungry children. Lily pressed shaking fingers to her lips. Although she had given all the money she could find back to the solicitors, they still sent her letters. She refused to open them. She was done with that life, a life she should have never experienced.

  Lady Penn’s world revolved around this party. Lily’s world revolved around the hope that the solicitors wouldn’t come to England to shatter her dream of a new start.

  …

  The invitations had requested the guests arrive at 4:00 p.m., but neither William nor Charles ever did anything as requested, so they were at Lady Penn’s door at three. She, of course, had been expecting them, but Lily was in a dither at their arrival, because she was still getting used to wearing the elaborate second mourning dresses Clara had generously given her.

  As William kissed Lady Penn’s gloved hand, Lily fumbled with the black velvet ribbon of her stiff mourning bonnet. She hated it, but was required to wear it, even indoors in mixed company.

  William looked up from Lady Penn’s hand. “My God, Lily. You look awful!”

  Before she could respond, he snatched the bonnet off her head and fluffed her dark locks from her face. “There. I had forgotten how beautiful your face was under all these somber trappings.”

  She tried to snatch the hat from his hands, but he put it behind his broad back, out of her reach.

  “William, I am not to be seen without my head covered.”

  “I am sure Clara can keep your secret,” he said and winked at her. He then proceeded to lean forward, and taking her tightly corseted waist in his hand, he pulled her toward him for a kiss on the lips right in front of Lady Penn.

  Heat shot through her, and even the scandal of the moment couldn’t stop her from trembling. She grew wet between her thighs and her nipples puckered up tight and hard. She clutched at his arms, torn between wanting him to stop or having him continue.

  Lily staggered when William released her, only to be caught by Charles.

  “I agree with William. You really are quite beautiful without that silly hat.” Charles leaned down and kissed her on the lips as well.

  An icy blast of need burned just as hot when Charles’s tongue invaded her mouth. She pushed closer to him, needing to get warm or to put out the fire. Lily was so confused. So aroused, she could only rub herself against him.

  Clara laughed as though it was the most natural thing she had ever witnessed to have two men kissing one woman in her parlor—and a widow at that!

  Lily expected to feel embarrassed, but her emotions were in a riot. She wanted more kisses, and yet that road led to her doom. She couldn’t afford to let Charles and William lead her into scandal again. This time, there wasn’t a convenient American her parents could marry her off to. Lily had to make her life here in England, and she couldn’t do that if she was being snickered at behind feathered fans.

  Head spinning and her heart racing, Lily was afraid she might pass out, although she wasn’t sure if it was from the tightness of her stays, or the sensations that had been unleashed at being kissed so passionately by the two men she had dreamed about for so long.

  William had his hands on her again and would have tugged her back, but Charles tightened his grip on her. Were they going to fight over her?

  “Gentlemen,” Clara said, still amused. “We have to prepare for our guests. They will be arriving shortly, and we must have some decorum. My husband has threatened to show up, so I need to be on my best behavior.”

  “That should be interesting to watch,” said William, “as I don’t believe I have ever witnessed your good behavior before.”

  “Oh, you are a devil,” she said, trying to lead them all to the open drawing room doors and out to the back garden.

  William then proceeded to swat Lady Penn on her bustle, and she burst into giggles.

  At Lily’s astonished expression, Charles tried to hide his smirk. “They are just good friends. You do remember what it was like when we were…”

  “Yes, but not like that,” she answered.

  “That’s only because we hadn’t thought of it yet.”

  She blushed wildly, imagining what it would be like to have William swat her bottom like that. And then Charles.

  “You better put that bonnet back on, or people will think you are having a good time.”

  He extended his arm, and they walked outside where Clara had had the servants set up a table with displays of crustless sandwiches and tea cakes.

  “They’ll be here soon,” Charles said. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “They will examine you like a miser reviews his accounts, and then report to everyone who was not invited.”

  “That sounds dreadful,” she said, remembering how relieved she had been to leave all of this behind and start fresh in America, where people only paid attention to you if you were rich.

  “You’ll be fine. As a beautiful young widow, now suddenly available, you’ll be the talk of the ton. I am certain you’ll have a number of interesting propositions by the end of the evening.”

  “Oh, Charles, that too sounds revolting. I am only interested in…” She trailed off, trying to figure out how to say what she was thinking. “Propositions from the two of you.”

  After the words had come out, she realized how awkward, and forward, they were, and put her gloved hand in front of her mouth. Goodness! Where had that come from? Probably from Lady Penn’s gossiping. She peeked under her eyelashes at them, half afraid they would ridicule her. “I mean, of course, catching up on our friendship.”

  William and Charles exchanged a meaningful look she didn’t quite understand.

  “I think that can be arranged,” Charles leaned in to whisper in her ear. A frisson of desire trickled down her spine at the soft, warm touch of his breath.

  William brushed his fingers over the back of hers and she blushed again, just as the schoolmaster and his wife were escorted to the garden.

  Chapter Four

  To her surprise, the party had been quite enjoyable. Lady Penn traveled in very different social circles than Lily. She had met her first stage actor, who had made it quite clear that he wished to see her privately, as had a married violinist, whose wife had been at the party. While she was happy that her first outing had been a success, neither the actor nor violinist would be able to help her start a new life in England. Like it or not, she had to start looking for a rich husband—preferably one who wouldn’t ask too many questions about her previous husband’s business dealings or the original scandal that had her marrying in haste and leaving London. Letting her gaze settle on Charles first and then William, she wondered if they could suggest a good match. After all, they had been a part of the scandal, it seemed only fair that they help her with a solution. If she weren’t so far below them in station, she would see if she could wangle a marriage proposal out of one of them, since they hadn’t yet married. She watched the other people bow and simper to them and shook her head. Lily could never ignore their titles. She wasn’t duchess material. They deserved better.

  The party had also been exhausting. She didn’t think she had ever spoken for so long to so many different people about so many different things. In Boston, the few women she had known only talked about colicky babies and sewing, but today Lily had heard of the opera, fashion, and scandals—even royal ones.

  William had poured some brandy into her tea to “help her relax,” and she felt as though she were floating through the afternoon,
although that may have been due to the heat of the dress on such a warm spring day and the wretched bonnet. Now that the guests were gone, she wanted nothing more than to loosen her laces and remove her borrowed shoes.

  To her relief, Clara suggested they retire to the library, which was also her husband’s smoking room. Lord Penn had not shown up for the party, sending word through a very handsome associate that he was running late in his business meetings, although his presence hung over them in the dark portrait of him and his jowls that loomed over the fireplace mantle. He had to be even older than her uncle.

  Clara collapsed on to a ruddy leather sofa. “Oh, my feet are killing me.” She tossed off the yellow slippers that had been dyed to match her gown. Lily, grateful to kick off her shoes as well, followed suit.

  “Take off that deplorable hat, or I will remove it for you.” William glowered, coming toward her. Happy to be able to see both her dukes without having to turn her head from side to side, Lily did what she was told.

  Brandy glass in hand, Charles had been watching her closely. He put the glass down on the table before her, knelt in front of her, and reached for her black-stocking-clad foot.

  “May I?” he asked, as he began to rub her aching sole. Pleasure shot up her leg as soon as he touched her. It didn’t help that his gaze was full of warmth and affection. This was much too forward and intimate, but his warm, strong hands felt so good.

  “Charles, you shouldn’t,” she said weakly, without pulling her foot away. It was bliss to be caressed. A wicked part of her wanted William’s hands on her other foot, but that was wrong—she needed to concentrate on finding a husband, not indulging in a lover.

  “We’re among friends,” he said, and proceeded to massage the inside of her arch while she studied them both.

  There was Charles, who had the lazy look of a slumbering lion. The heart of an artist with the soul of a poet, he was wicked with his smiles and sneaky kisses. He was a big man who dwarfed the couch he lounged on. His hands held her entire her face when he had cupped her cheeks for a kiss earlier. For his size, though, he was gentle and graceful—except when his temper was piqued. But instead of fighting with those powerful muscles of his, his preferred weapon was his intelligence. She had seen him defuse a situation and also ramp one up with his caustic wit. Most often it was William he was egging on.