Daring to Love the Duke's Heir

by Janice Preston

  ‘Continue,’ she said.

  Drat him. There was that barely concealed smirk again.

  ‘I have spoken with all three of them—my own brother and Mr Wolfe are watching over your brother to ensure he does nothing...stupid.’

  ‘Stupid? Like...what?’

  ‘Like making rash promises.’

  Liberty pondered his words. ‘Promises? To whom?’ They were in a theatre...that must mean... ‘As in...promises of marriage? Offers? Oh, dear God.’

  She rushed for the door, but Dominic grabbed her arm as she brushed past him. Liberty struggled to free herself.

  ‘Let me go! You mean one of these floozies, don’t you? A common actress. I have to stop him.’

  A tug unbalanced her and suddenly she was in his arms, held for the second time that night against the solid comfort of his chest. She felt herself relax into him, despite her panic over Gideon. It felt good, to feel a man’s arms around her, to feel protected, even if for a split second.

  ‘You can do nothing.’ His voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating through her. He gripped her shoulders and set her away from him, gazing down at her. ‘Gideon will heed his friends’ advice and opinions more readily than that of his sister. Leave it to us.’

  ‘Leave it to the men, you mean. You think because I am a female that my opinions count for nothing.’

  That infuriating brow rose once again. ‘I think that because you are his sister, your opinions will simply drive him into contrary behaviour. Take my advice, Miss Lovejoy. Use your time wisely and channel your energies into finding respectable husbands for yourself and your sisters.’

  ‘I do not seek a husband for myself,’ she muttered. Pride would not allow her to admit her private dream of finding love again. Especially to him.

  ‘Then concentrate on your sisters’ futures, if that is the case. Leave your brother to me. It is all under control.’

  She raised her gaze to his. Those silvery eyes shone like polished steel. She could see herself reflected in them, but she could read nothing of the man within. They were like a mirror. What secrets did he hide? Or maybe he had none. Maybe he was exactly what he appeared to be—a handsome, straitlaced nobleman who never succumbed to spontaneity and always behaved with utmost propriety, as Mrs Mount had said.

  ‘Why should I put my trust in you? What do you care what Gideon does?’

  ‘I shall keep my eye on your brother simply to ensure Alex does not follow him into reckless behaviour and harmful habits.’

  ‘But you are not watching him now. You are here with me.’

  ‘That is true, but I happen to know both Alex and Mr Wolfe are with Gideon so he is in no imminent danger of making a complete cake of himself. Now, will you allow me to escort you home, Miss Lovejoy?’

  ‘There is no need. I shall take a hackney.’

  Earlier, she’d had no qualms about how she would get home, anticipating that Gideon would feel honour-bound to escort her. Now, for the first time, she realised her predicament, but pride, again, forbade her from admitting as much to His Lordship.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Refusal is not an option. That was not a question.’

  ‘It sounded exactly like a question to me.’

  A muscle leapt at the side of his jaw. ‘I was being polite.’

  ‘Be that as it may, I am in no need of your escort. Just think how your reputation will suffer if we are seen together.’

  He sighed. ‘I told you before that sarcasm does not become you, Miss Lovejoy. Your choice is twofold. Either you allow me to take you home. Now. Or you and I shall go and find your brother and see what he has to say about his twin sister snooping around the nether regions of a theatre. The choice is yours.’

  ‘My lord... I have no wish to sound ungrateful, but you cannot simply order me around. Besides, I have no wish to disrupt your evening further than I already have.’

  His sensual lips thinned into a firm line. He spun to face the door, grabbing Liberty’s right hand as he did so. He drew it firmly between his left arm and his ribcage and then crooked his elbow, clamping her arm in place. He strode for the door and she found herself stumbling in his wake, unable to resist his strength.

  ‘My lord... Avon! Stop!’

  ‘No.’ The word was gritted out. ‘No more talk. Pull up your hood.’ They left the room and he slammed to a halt. ‘Do it,’ he growled, ‘or I’ll do it for you. Unless you want to be recognised?’

  The sight of a figure emerging from a nearby door spurred her to obey. She pulled up her hood, tugging it forward to cover her face and, without another word, Avon headed towards the rear of the theatre, towing Liberty behind him. She kept her gaze to the floor, avoiding eye contact with anyone they passed, then they were out of the door, into the chill night air, with raindrops pitter-pattering on her hood and, when she risked glancing up, her face.

  ‘Keep moving and don’t look at anyone,’ Dominic muttered. ‘Maiden Lane is no place for a lady.’

  He walked briskly, rounded a corner and then another, and she recognised the Strand and the front of the theatre, where a town coach and pair waited, a coachman at the horses’ heads. The waiting man whisked sacking from the horses’ backs as Liberty found herself bundled unceremoniously into the vehicle. Avon leaned inside as she perched on the edge of the seat.

  ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Green Street.’

  He withdrew and she heard him call, ‘Webster. Green Street, please.’

  The carriage dipped as Dominic climbed inside. He stripped off his gloves and hat and cast them on to the opposite seat before settling next to her, his hip and thigh touching hers. She inched away from him, until her own hip was pressed against the padded side of the coach, still stiffly upright, wondering how it had happened that she had been removed from the theatre without catching even one glimpse of Gideon or discovering what he was up to. And how she was now in a carriage, alone with a man she barely knew.

  ‘I presume you have fully recovered from your swoon earlier tonight?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ It infuriated her that he’d seen her behave in such a feeble way. ‘I do not make a habit of swooning. It was excessively stuffy in that room.’

  ‘It was.’ His amused tone set her hackles to rise. ‘I did not, however, notice any other ladies swoon.’

  She had no answer to that. It was true. And the episode had undermined her determination to have only one new gown made. She had no choice now. She would need more. She only hoped Gideon could afford it.

  ‘How can I be sure Gideon is safe?’

  ‘You cannot be sure. Not completely. But you have to understand there is nothing you can do. You are a female. You simply cannot follow him around to spy on him. Perhaps you should instead learn to trust him? And besides—’ Dominic swivelled on the seat to face her ‘—tell me truthfully. What exactly did you intend to do if you caught Gideon behaving recklessly?’

  ‘I... I do not know, for certain. I suppose I would try to persuade him to leave and to return home with me.’

  ‘I see.’

  The simple scepticism in those two words spoke volumes. In the silence that followed Liberty began to realise the futility of her plan—what had she thought she might achieve?

  ‘And your chance of success would be?’

  Liberty slumped back against the squabs.

  ‘Very well. You are right. He would refuse. We would argue.’

  ‘And the result would be that the distance you spoke of between you and your brother would widen further.’

  That was the last thing she wanted. She missed sharing things...life...with Gideon; missed having him to lean on; she missed his company. And she was terrified he would make some drastic mistake and blight his life. She rubbed at her aching chest while the guilt lay heavy in her stomach. She had failed Bernard and her parents. She could not fail Gideon, t
oo.

  Dominic faced forward again, folding his arms across his chest. Liberty waited for the ‘I told you so’ or ‘How could you be so stupid?’, but no recriminations were forthcoming. After several excruciating minutes of silent self-recrimination, she exhaled sharply.

  ‘I am sorry.’

  He cocked his head. ‘Sorry for what?’

  ‘My behaviour. I know it is not what is expected of a lady, but I—I could not go to bed and sleep without trying to do something.’

  ‘I do understand. Gideon is your brother and your worry for him overrode everything else.’ A long, quiet sigh escaped him. ‘Lest you forget, I have a brother, too, and, although he is not as wild as he used to be, he is still not an easy man to understand or even, sometimes, to like.’ He leaned forward, his forearms propped on his knees and his gaze on the floor. ‘Our sister has been known to get herself into some difficult scrapes in an effort to protect Alex—often without regard for the consequences. In that respect you remind me of her.’

  He looked at her. ‘For the Beauchamps all that is in the past and Olivia is a respectable married lady now. If you will take my advice—concentrate your efforts on your sisters even if you have no wish for marriage yourself. I meant what I said earlier—if you bring disgrace upon yourself, your sisters will suffer. They will be tainted for life. You already start from a lowly position in society and there will be many who will relish any disgrace as it will reinforce their view that inferior breeding will out.’

  Liberty bristled at being lectured. ‘A view you yourself agree with, I am given to understand. I’ve heard you have a list of perfect ladies suitable for a future duke and that breeding comes right at the top of your requirements.’

  ‘Only insofar as it affects my choice of bride,’ he retorted. ‘It is my duty as my father’s heir to marry well, but I do not hold such views in general.’

  ‘Because everyone below you is so far beneath your notice?’

  She felt the full force of his stare. ‘Not at all,’ he said, stiffly. ‘As it happens, I’m involved—’

  Liberty waited, but he did not continue. ‘You’re involved...?’

  ‘It is of no matter.’

  He faced forward again and they lapsed into silence. Within a short time, Liberty felt shame creep through her. She had been unfair, needling him in that way. For all he was infuriating, he had been trying to help her.

  She swivelled slightly so she could study him. She could just about make out his profile in the gloomy interior of the coach. As they passed the occasional street lamp, she could make out lines of strain running from his nose to his mouth.

  ‘Do you really believe your brother can be trusted to bring Gideon back to his senses, my lord?’

  He hooked one hand behind his neck, further obscuring her view of him. At first she thought he would not answer her, but then he abruptly released his neck and lowered his arm, shooting her a sidelong look.

  ‘I believe so.’ He twisted to face her then, and touched her hand. ‘You may trust me, however. I shall keep an eye on both Alex and Gideon.’

  And she did trust his word.

  ‘Thank you. You are more generous than perhaps I deserve.’

  His eyes glittered as they passed another street lamp. ‘Generous?’ He reached out, and touched her face with one finger, tracing her cheekbone, raising a shiver in its wake before he withdrew it. ‘You needed help and I have been in a position to provide it.’ His teeth gleamed as he smiled and her heart tumbled over. ‘Twice. As I said, you remind me of my sister...oh, not in the way you look, but in that stubborn determination to make sure the people you love are safe. How could I not help?’ He leaned forward, gazing out of the window. ‘We are here. Green Street. Which house is it?’

  ‘A little further along, on the left-hand side.’

  She felt dazed. What had happened to the pompous lord she had met at Beauchamp House? Dominic rapped on the carriage ceiling and it halted. He climbed out, then turned to hand her out.

  ‘Pull your hood up again,’ he whispered. ‘I will watch to see you safely inside the house, but I won’t escort you to the door in case we are seen. I hope we are now agreed that your reputation is important, if only for the sake of your sisters.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you again.’

  His eyes gleamed briefly, then he raised her hand to his lips. ‘You are most welcome, Miss Liberty Lovejoy.’

  Chapter Seven

  A sense of urgency—of events slipping out of his grasp—drove Dominic to head straight for home and for his sitting room.

  ‘I shan’t need you again tonight, Brailsford,’ he said to his man. ‘You get off to bed.’

  ‘Can I fetch you something to eat before I go, milord?’

  Dominic consulted his gut. ‘No. I’m not hungry.’ Actually, he felt a little nauseous...sort of uneasy...a churning, unsettling sensation. Apprehension, that was it. Well, it was hardly surprising when he was about to make such a momentous decision. ‘But you may pour me a brandy before you go, if you would.’

  Dominic crossed the room to his writing desk and, opening a drawer, he extracted a sheet of paper. He had no real need of the list—the names that remained were indelibly inscribed into his memory. There was no chance he would forget any of them. But he nevertheless carried the list over to his favourite chair—a deeply buttoned green-leather-upholstered wing chair—and waited while Brailsford poured a glass of brandy, set it on the small table next to his chair and stirred the slumbering fire into life before refuelling it. Dominic did not look at the list until the door had shut behind Brailsford, then he scanned the names before steadily working his way through them again, from the first name to the fifth. Amelia and Sarah, of course, he had taken against, leaving three. For each name—Caroline, Georgiana and Sybilla—he conjured forth a mental image of the lady in question, mentally reviewing what he knew of each one: her family connections, her qualities, her conduct. Any one of them would be suitable for the Marchioness of Avon, and for the future Duchess of Cheriton, although he hoped that last would not be for a very long time. No one lady stood out among the others, but Georgiana was, he knew, afraid of horses. Did he want a wife who was afraid of horses? And Sybilla wasn’t even in town yet.

  ‘Lady Caroline Warnock.’

  He closed his eyes, recalling the sweet sound of her singing at a musical recital last Season. Her voice had raised the hairs on his arms. He opened his eyes again and mentally shrugged. She had a beautiful singing voice. It was as good a reason as any. Her attitude towards Liberty the other day had irritated him, but it was, he knew, no different to the attitude of many in the ton to those whom they considered of inferior breeding and upbringing. That was settled, then. Although no one but he would know—he would pay equal attention to all five original names but, as soon as Father came up from Devonshire, Dominic would make his offer. He did not doubt Caroline would welcome an offer from him—she had been raised with a view to taking her place as the wife of a high-ranking aristocrat.

  The sound of the door opening disturbed his thoughts.

  ‘I told Brailsford to leave me to find my own way.’ Alex sauntered across to the brandy decanter and poured himself a generous glassful. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ He raised the glass as he wandered across to the fireplace and sat in the matching wing-back chair set on the opposite side to Dominic’s.

  ‘Be my guest. Oh. Wait. You already have.’ Dominic reached for his own glass, raised it in a silent toast to his brother, drank, then returned it to the side table. He placed his list next to the glass before eyeing Alex. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again tonight. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

  ‘My insatiable curiosity. Saw you leaving the back door of the theatre with a woman and, if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, it was Wendover’s twin sister—the interfering and irritating Liberty.’

  Dominic frowned. ‘I didn’t think y
ou’d seen us. And I didn’t know the two of you had even met.’

  ‘We haven’t...but I’ve seen her from afar and I recognised her, before she pulled up her hood. That description, by the by, is verbatim from her ever-loving brother.’

  Sympathy for Liberty bloomed in Dominic’s chest. He drank some brandy then shifted in his chair, unsettled, staring into his glass as he swirled the amber liquid around. He’d come in here determined to finalise his future and to forget Miss Liberty Lovejoy and now here was Alex, stirring up her presence all over again.

  ‘So I was right. It was her.’

  The softly spoken comment jerked Dominic from his thoughts. He looked up to find Alex watching him with a knowing look.

  ‘Is she the reason you came to the theatre? What were the pair of you doing backstage?’

  Dominic tilted his glass and drank again, considering. Then he set his glass down again and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, his joined forefingers resting against his lips.

  ‘It was coincidence. But I do know she is worried about her brother. I saw her there and I persuaded her to leave. That is it.’ This subject needed changing. ‘More importantly, what are you up to with Wendover? You’re not slipping back into old habits, are you?’

  ‘No.’ Alex sipped his brandy. ‘Lucky for you it was me that saw you.’

  Silently damning his brother’s tenacity, Dominic asked, ‘What d’you mean?’

  Alex’s eyes gleamed, crinkling at the corners. He was unmistakably a Beauchamp, but he was the only one of the three children who had inherited their late mother’s colouring—thick mahogany brown hair and golden-brown eyes that always reminded Dominic of a tiger he had seen at the Exeter Exchange when he was a boy. Now, those eyes mocked Dominic, whose jaw clenched.

  ‘Careful you don’t get caught, that’s all,’ Alex drawled. ‘I doubt the luscious Liberty would tick many of the qualities on the list of the perfect bride for the perfect heir.’