Daring to Love the Duke's Heir

by Janice Preston

  Too restless to go home and prompted by the events of the evening, he headed for Sans Pareil in search of Alex, determined to discharge his promise to Liberty as soon as he possibly could. From the floor of the theatre he scanned the boxes, finally spotting his father’s close friend, Lord Stanton and his wife, Felicity, Dominic’s second cousin. He ran up the stairs and slid into a vacant seat behind them.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’

  Felicity’s head whipped round and a huge smile lit her face. ‘Dominic! Of course. We’re delighted to see you. But you have missed the play, you know. There is only the farce left.’ Her eyes twinkled. She knew very well that most people preferred the farce to the serious drama, which was why the theatres always showed the farce last in the programme.

  ‘I’m not here to watch either—I’m looking for Alex. Have you seen him?’

  Stanton leant forward, searching the pit below. He pointed. ‘There he is,’ he said, ‘with Wolfe and Wendover.’

  Felicity also leant forward. ‘Wendover? Is that the new Earl? Oh, yes. I see—the man with the golden hair? I’ve never seen him before, although I have, of course, heard the gossip.’ She settled back into her seat. ‘Such a dreadful thing to happen—the previous Lord Wendover and his entire family perishing in that fire.’ She shuddered. ‘It’s frightening.’

  Stanton took her hand. ‘Try not to think about it, Felicity Joy. You mustn’t upset yourself.’ Then he twisted in his seat to face Dominic and lowered his voice. ‘The entire house was gutted, I hear. It is beyond repair. Wendover will have to rebuild.’

  Was that why Liberty was so anxious about money? The knowledge that the family seat would need to be completely rebuilt?

  ‘Have you heard how the fire started?’

  ‘The bed hangings in the main bedchamber caught fire. Wendover and his lady were in bed. They didn’t stand a chance—the house went up like a rocket, with all those dry old timbers to feed the flames.’

  Dominic suppressed his own shudder. Fire...it was a terrifying prospect, and an ever-present danger with candles and lanterns supplying light and with open fires where an unwary soul might find their clothes catching alight and going up in flames. There were new innovations, with gas lighting now more common in London streets, but there was widespread distrust at the idea of employing the new technology in private homes.

  Felicity looked at them, frowning. ‘What are you two whispering about?’ She narrowed her eyes at Stanton and shook her head. ‘You should know better than to try to hide unpalatable truths from me, Richard.’

  Her husband laughed. ‘I wouldn’t dare,’ he said, with a wink at Dominic. ‘But this is not hiding. It is protecting. You know the tragedy that occurred, but you do not need to know the details, my sweet.’

  Felicity pouted, then smiled. ‘You are right. As you so often are, my darling husband.’

  A laugh rumbled in Richard’s chest. ‘If you believe that last remark, Dom, my boy, you do not know women. Or, more particularly, wives. We men might hold the titles, property and wealth, but, in a marriage, it is the wife who holds the power.’ He captured Felicity’s hands and kissed first one palm, then the other. ‘My heart. Your hands.’

  His smile confirmed his happiness at being in such thrall to Felicity and Dominic was happy for them. He was very fond of Felicity—they had worked together closely for years, supporting and funding Westfield, a school and asylum for orphans and destitute children—and he remembered only too well the traumas of the early months of Richard and Felicity’s arranged marriage. Would he be so fortunate in his marriage of convenience? He mentally ran through his shortlist and doubts erupted. Not one of them, from his observations, had Felicity’s kind heart and sincerity. He shifted uneasily in his seat and tried to quash those doubts.

  I’m not looking for love. Nor for a comfortable wife. I want a lady suited to the position of a marchioness; someone with the perfect qualities to be a duchess in the future and capable of raising a son who will one day be a duke. Someone of whom my mother would approve and a daughter-in-law to make my father proud.

  That had always been his destiny. From a young age, his mother had drummed into him his responsibility as his father’s heir and his duty to marry a lady worthy of the future position as the Duchess of Cheriton. It was the price one paid when one was firstborn.

  His situation was entirely different to that of the Stantons.

  He dragged his thoughts away from his future marriage to concentrate on the reason he had come to the theatre. If he could set Miss Lovejoy’s mind at rest about her brother, then hopefully he could move on with his plan without distraction.

  Liberty’s brother was easy to pick out in the auditorium below, with his hair the same shade as Hope’s—a golden-blond colour, two shades lighter and much brighter than Liberty’s dark honey hue. Dominic watched him. He was behaving much as every other young buck in the pit—whistling and calling at the hapless performers and, during those times the onstage drama failed to hold his attention, boldly ogling the theatre boxes and any halfway pretty occupants. So far, no different to how most young men behaved when they were out with other young men and without the civilising influence of ladies to curtail their antics.

  Alex, Dominic was interested to see, was more subdued—indeed, he looked almost bored, gazing in a desultory fashion at the surrounding boxes. He gave every impression of wishing he was anywhere but where he was. Whatever jinks the three young men were up to, Alex was not the ringleader.

  Dominic leaned forward. ‘What do you know of Wendover, Stan?’

  ‘Not a great deal,’ Stanton replied. ‘A gentleman’s son, but his mother was some sort of merchant’s daughter. He attended Eton, but left Oxford early after his father died. He has three sisters and I’ve heard it was a financial struggle for them after their father’s death. He’s a lucky man, inheriting so unexpectedly. Why do you ask?’

  ‘He and Alex were pally at Eton and I’ve been told that Alex is encouraging Wendover in some wild behaviour. I’m worried Alex will slip back into his old ways.’

  ‘How old is Alex now?’

  ‘Five and twenty. Old enough to know better.’

  Alex had always been a difficult youth, but Dominic, and the rest of the family, had believed the worst of his wildness was in the past.

  ‘I didn’t even know Alex was in town,’ said Stanton. ‘I heard Wendover’s new-found fortune has gone to his head and, looking at them now, I should say he is the instigator, not Alex or Wolfe. It is Wendover’s first time on the town—he’s bound to kick out. I shouldn’t worry too much, Dominic.’

  How perfect if Stanton was right and it was Gideon trying to lead Alex and Neville astray. Dominic would enjoy putting Liberty straight...although...there was still the effect of Wendover’s behaviour on his sisters’ reputations—they would face enough of a struggle to be accepted in society, with their maternal grandfather being in trade, without a rackety brother to further taint the family.

  He stood. ‘I’ll go and talk to him, nevertheless. I think you are right, but it won’t hurt to make certain.’ He shook Stanton’s outstretched hand and bent to kiss Felicity on the cheek.

  Down on the floor of the theatre, he stood at the back until the end of the play, keeping a close watch on Alex, Neville and Wendover. As the audience began to leave, he moved to meet the three men.

  Alex’s eyes met his. A smile was swiftly masked.

  ‘Dominic.’ Alex nodded casually.

  ‘Alex.’ Dominic kept his nod just as casual. ‘Why did you not let me know you were in town?’

  He cringed inwardly as soon as he said the words. There was nothing he could have said more likely to provoke Alex into a fit of the sullens, as their aunt Cecily used to call them.

  Alex shrugged. ‘I don’t need your permission to have some fun in my life, do I?’

  Dominic bit back the urge to c
uff his brother’s ear as he might have done when they were lads.

  ‘No, of course not. But if I’d known I could have let you know Olivia, Hugo and the twins arrived yesterday.’

  They’d been due to arrive the day he’d met Liberty at Beauchamp House, but had delayed their journey a couple of days when one of the twins was poorly.

  Alex’s eyes lit up. ‘Are they staying in Grosvenor Square?’ Dominic nodded. ‘Good. I’ll call on them tomorrow.’

  Dominic then turned to Neville Wolfe, a friend of Alex’s since boyhood.

  ‘Wolfe. How do you do? Are your family well?’

  Neville grinned and shook Dominic’s hand. ‘Very well, Avon. Very well.’

  Dominic shifted his attention to Gideon, Lord Wendover. Miss Liberty Lovejoy’s twin brother. The family resemblance was strong—the same stubborn chin and the same blue eyes. He wondered idly if Wendover’s irises were likewise flecked with gold before jerking back to the realisation that he was staring mindlessly at the man. He thrust out his hand.

  ‘I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Avon... Alex’s brother.’

  Gideon shook Dominic’s hand. ‘Wendover. Good to meet you, Avon, but... I beg you will excuse me—I’m due backstage.’

  His words slurred and Dominic could smell the gin on his breath, but at least neither Alex nor Wolfe appeared foxed. Gideon was quickly absorbed into the throng of people slowly shuffling out of the theatre.

  Alex muttered a curse. ‘I’ll call on you tomorrow, Dom. I have to go now. C’mon, Nev.’

  He followed Gideon but, as Neville began to move, Dominic grabbed his arm.

  ‘Hold hard there, Wolfe.’

  Neville halted, but looked pointedly at Dominic’s hand on his sleeve. Dominic released his grip.

  ‘Give me a moment,’ he said. ‘I just want to be sure he’s safe.’

  Understanding dawned on Neville’s face. He’d been friends with Alex for a long time and had stood by him through difficult times and wild behaviour. ‘There’s nothing going on that need trouble you, Avon. We’re tryin’ to watch out for Gid, that’s all. He’s got the bit between his teeth—taken a fancy to Camilla Trace and we’re trying to stop him doing anything stupid like promise to marry her when he’s in his cups!’

  Camilla Trace was a beautiful and popular actress currently appearing at the Sans Pareil.

  ‘Is Alex in danger of following Wendover’s path?’ At Neville’s startled expression, Dominic elaborated. ‘I don’t mean falling in love with an actress. I heard Wendover’s getting in deep and I’m worried Alex might get drawn back into high-stakes games.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Alex won’t lose sight of what’s important to him—he values his horses too much to put his business in jeopardy.’ Neville clapped Dominic on the shoulder. ‘Leave it to me to watch him.’

  Dominic watched the other man go, his brows knit in a frown. Neville Wolfe and Alex had been partners in crime throughout their youth—what if they both slipped back into their old ways? With neither Father nor Uncle Vernon in town, it was up to Dominic to keep Alex safe. So, while Alex and Neville watched over Gideon, Dominic would watch over his brother. From a distance. Because one thing was certain—if Alex got wind of what Dominic was up to, he would just as likely dive headlong into any and every vice that presented itself to him. Simply to prove he was his own man.

  Dominic sighed and made his way to the door into the backstage area. He entered and immediately spied a cloaked and hooded figure lurking in a doorway up ahead. He adjusted his grip on his ebony cane, which handily concealed a sword, but the figure did not move as he passed.

  He’d taken two steps past before the scent of roses reached him, sending the hair on the back of his neck on end. He pivoted round to face...Miss Liberty Lovejoy.

  Chapter Six

  Liberty gasped as a vice-like grip encircled her upper arm. The thick wool of the cloak she wore did little to disguise the strength in those fingers. Heart pumping with fear, she raised her eyes to her assailant and the breath whooshed from her lungs.

  ‘You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?’

  Dominic did not answer. His fingers tightened, then he was dragging her with him, opening doors at random, muttering apologies, until he found an empty room. He whisked her inside and released her, pushing her to the far side of the small, cluttered space. A lamp illuminated the interior, revealing clothing strewn over a chair and brushes and pots of face powder and rouge scattered upon a table with a mirror fixed on the wall behind it—a mirror that reflected Dominic’s furious expression as he glared at the back of Liberty’s head.

  She squared her shoulders and pivoted to face him. ‘How dare you manhandle me?’

  She strode for the door, but his hand covered hers on the handle before she could open it. She tugged her hand free and turned to face him, her back to the door. He was close. Too close. And his expression had, somehow, transformed from fury into... Stillness. Focus. Like a cat waiting to pounce. Heat shimmered in those silvery eyes.

  Liberty swallowed—hard—as her pulse hammered. His body was against hers, all unyielding muscle and spicy, musky, masculinity. Her stomach fluttered and liquid heat pooled in her core. She could not tear her gaze from his as he propped his hands against the door, one either side of her shoulders, pinning her. His scent surrounded her, sending waves of pure longing crashing through her—a feeling she hadn’t experienced since Bernard had died. And just like that, she broke free of his spell. She shoved at his chest, ducked beneath one of his arms and stalked to the furthest corner of the room. Her breathing steadied the more distance she put between them...he remained by the door and did not follow her.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ He growled the question out.

  Liberty elevated her nose. ‘I asked you first.’

  No doubt he is here to visit his amour. That’s what gentlemen do, is it not? Keep company with lightskirts and actresses and the like?

  And that’s exactly what she feared Gideon was doing here now. Wasting his time and his money on an actress when he should be thinking about securing his new position as a peer. He would need an heir. He wouldn’t meet a suitable wife backstage at a theatre!

  ‘I am a man. I can do as I please. My reputation is not at stake.’

  ‘And my reputation matters not when it comes to my brother’s well-being.’

  His narrowed gaze pierced her. ‘Your reputation might be of little consequence to you, but what about your sisters’ reputations?’

  ‘What of them?’

  ‘If you are seen, not only will you suffer, but your sisters will be irretrievably tainted. Is that really what you want?’

  Her bravado was shrinking fast. She had been unable to settle after their return from the rout, so worried was she about what Gideon was up to. She had taken a calculated risk in coming here tonight, sneaking out of the house, persuading Bilk, their coachman, to drive her to the theatre by telling him that Gideon had asked her to meet him there, and entering such a place unescorted. A scandalously improper way for a lady to behave, but she had persuaded herself she would not be noticed.

  Now, though, she was well and truly caught, and her disgrace would rebound on Hope and Verity if Lord Avon chose to reveal it.

  But she refused to beg for his help again, not when he had failed to keep his earlier promise.

  ‘Well, I have been seen now, so I have nothing left to lose, have I?’ She dipped a curtsy, intending the gesture to be ironic. ‘If it is your intention to expose my conduct, I cannot stop you. If it is not, then please allow me to leave so I can find Gideon.’

  His lips firmed. ‘You asked why I am here. I shall tell you. I have come to see what your brother is up to and to ensure that his bad example does not corrupt my own brother.’

  ‘Oh! That is outrageous! It is your brother leading mine astray.’

&nbs
p; He raised one brow, making her itch to slap him. Smug, superior know-it-all.

  ‘I hate to contradict a lady, but my observations thus far indicate the exact opposite.’

  Their gazes remained locked for several fraught seconds until Dominic’s shoulders relaxed and one corner of his lips—his beautifully shaped mobile, enticing lips—lifted.

  ‘Liberty—’

  She opened her mouth to object, but held her silence when he raised his hand, palm forward.

  ‘It is shocking for me to call you Liberty, but acceptable for you to wander alone backstage at a theatre?’

  His lips twitched. They really were fascinating lips. What would it be like to kiss him? To feel his lips moving over hers? His tongue in her mouth, sliding against hers?

  Oh, dear God. Forget scandalous. I am utterly depraved.

  She moistened her dry lips. His eyes darkened. A pulse in her neck fluttered wildly and, without volition, she pressed shaking fingers to it. A vain attempt to suppress it? Then his gaze lowered and her nipples peaked in immediate response. She swallowed again and tugged at the edges of her cloak, pulling it across her chest in a defensive gesture.

  Dominic hauled in an audible breath, his broad chest swelling and then deflating again as he released his breath.

  ‘Let us begin again, Miss Lovejoy.’

  His tone meant business. His very stance meant business. Despite herself, Liberty paid attention. This was not a man to defy, not in this mood.

  ‘I am here at this theatre to see what both of our brothers are up to.’

  Despite herself, she rather liked that—it was nice to have someone on her side, someone to rely on, if only for a short while. Although she would die before she admitted it to him.

  ‘How did you know they would be here?’

  ‘I asked the servants. They tend to know everything, you know—they seem to have their own methods of finding things out and of spreading the word. You would do well to remember that.’

  Her thoughts flew to Bilk. She had sworn him to secrecy, but could she trust him? Liberty bit back her doubts. It was too late now. Unconsciously, she raised her chin.