Daring to Love the Duke's Heir

by Janice Preston

  ‘Lord Avon, miss. Would you like me to stay?’

  Just one look at him set her heart skipping and jumping—his tall, broad frame, his dark good looks, his crooked smile revealing his uncertainty over the action he intended to take.

  Liberty switched her attention to the maid. ‘No, Ethel. That will not be necessary. His Lordship will not remain above five minutes.’

  As soon as they were alone, Dominic strode across the room and reached for her hands. She tucked them behind her back. He frowned, but he took the hint and stepped back.

  ‘Liberty...look...’ He swept a hand through his hair. ‘I am aware I made a complete mull of it last night after...after we...well. I am sorry. Truly I am... I didn’t think what I was saying before I blurted it out.’

  ‘You voiced your immediate thoughts, Dominic. It is quite all right. I understand.’

  ‘No. It is not all right.’

  He moved closer again and his spicy cologne weaved through her senses as he cupped her shoulders. The warm, steady strength of his hands was nearly her undoing. How simple it would be to bow to the inevitable...to fold into his embrace, to lean into his solid frame and allow him to take control, to accept him and to worry about any consequences later. She blanked her expression and forced herself to remain rigidly upright.

  ‘Accept me and I shall leave here and arrange the licence straight away. We can be wed by the end of next week.’ He put his lips to her ear. ‘We will be happy together.’

  His breath tickled, but she gritted her teeth, determined not to squirm. Was he trying to convince himself as much as persuade her? It was not hard to believe and it made her even more determined to stick to her plan.

  ‘No, Dominic. I will not marry you. You are only offering for me out of guilt, but there is no need. I am an adult, not some green girl who did not know what she was doing. There is no need to ruin both our lives.’

  ‘Both our lives?’ His grip tightened. ‘What are you saying...that you do not care for me after all? Are you in the habit of giving yourself to random men you have no feelings for?’

  She tore herself from his grasp and paced across the room before whirling to face him. ‘I care for you too much to saddle you with a wife you are marrying out of duty.’

  He visibly flinched. ‘Duty? It is duty that resulted in that damned shortlist. It is my honour that dictates I make an honest woman of you.’

  She stared at him, holding his gaze without wavering, willing him to say more...to speak of what was in his heart. Did he love her? Or was last night purely about lust after all? If she accepted him like this, she might never know. But of one thing she was certain—if he did not love her and he was offering purely with his honour, then he would soon grow to resent and even hate her.

  She had faced heartbreak before and survived. She would do so again.

  ‘No. You are free to continue with your perfect, dutiful life, my lord. You are under no obligation to me.’

  ‘And if you are with child?’

  She had done the calculations. It would not be long before she knew. A matter of days only.

  ‘If I am, we will talk again.’ She moved to the door and opened it. ‘I hope we may remain friends, when we meet?’

  He searched her face, then nodded.

  ‘Then I shall bid you good afternoon, Lord Avon.’

  * * *

  If she thought he would give up that easily, she could think again. Dominic strode up Green Street, fury at her stubbornness biting at his gut. The clip-clop of hooves behind him reminded him that he had driven his curricle to her house. He gestured at Ted to stay back and he kept walking.

  Who does she think she is? Doesn’t she realise the honour I’ve—?

  His whirling thoughts steadied and he lopped off his diatribe before he could finish it, recognising his sheer arrogance to even think such a thing. As his thoughts slowed down so did his pace and his tumbling emotions, and his churning gut.

  Why are you so damned furious?

  He halted on the corner of the street, staring blindly at the houses opposite as he strove to untangle his thoughts from his feelings.

  Why was he so furious? Madly, rigidly, agonisingly furious?

  He had what he wanted. He’d told himself, time and again, that it was lust driving his obsession with Liberty Lovejoy. He should be rejoicing. He’d had her. She’d set him free. Free to have what he wanted—the perfect Lady Sybilla Gratton as his wife. His Marchioness. The mother of his children. The future Duchess of Cheriton.

  He paced onwards, his steps slow and measured, his gaze on the pavement.

  And slowly the truth emerged out of that muddle of emotions and he finally accepted it with a clear head. The idea of having Liberty Lovejoy as his wife had taken hold in his brain and it felt right. He could not dislodge that image. It grew stronger and brighter with every second, every minute that passed. He didn’t only want Liberty Lovejoy, he needed her. In his life. Always.

  On the brink of spinning around to march back to Green Street, he halted.

  She had refused him. And he—the perfect, gentlemanly Marquess of Avon—had managed to both insult and infuriate the woman he loved. If he returned to her now and prostrated himself at her feet, she would no doubt laugh him out of the house. And he wouldn’t blame her. He’d made an utter mess of the entire thing.

  He walked on.

  He would make a plan.

  I’ll court her properly... I’ll make her change her mind.

  He halted at the next corner and waited for Ted to bring up his curricle. He felt a burning need to work off his frustration. A visit to Jackson’s would help.

  * * *

  The next few days tried his patience to the limit. A new and different Liberty Lovejoy had emerged—coolly correct in everything she did and said. She smiled graciously. She danced with precision and with elegance. She smiled at him, but with her lips closed. And she refused to rise to any provocation, merely agreeing with every word he said. She had encased her heart and her soul in an exquisitely polite but impenetrable shell and nothing he said or did could pierce it.

  If she should get with child, though, it will change everything. She won’t refuse me then.

  A part of him understood he was clutching at that thought in the hope it would solve this impasse for him. But that was all he had to cling to.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A mere six days after that night—the night when Liberty had gambled the highest stakes of all and lost—Lord and Lady Stanton threw a ball at their mansion in Cavendish Square. The Lovejoys, along with most of the ton, were invited and Liberty waited with bated breath and with a thudding heart for Dominic to make an appearance. She had a very important message for him.

  At every ball since that night Dominic asked Liberty to dance. And, if she had a dance free, she accepted. But she avoided any hint of personal conversation, talking only of inconsequential matters and agreeing with every single one of Dominic’s opinions, which grew increasingly outrageous as the days passed. He was being deliberately provocative, she knew, but she refused to lower her guard for one single second. He wanted a perfect lady? Well, she might have missed out on the strictly correct upbringing of Lady Sybilla and her ilk, but she would show him she could be a lady when necessary.

  As far as the rest of the ton were concerned, his behaviour was still impeccable. He partnered several perfectly eligible young ladies, including Sybilla, at every ball but the announcement everyone was waiting for never came.

  And Liberty knew why. And tonight she would set his mind at rest. If he was still determined to marry the perfect Lady Sybilla, he could now do so with a clear conscience. This morning her prayers had been answered and tonight she would reassure His Lordship that there had been no unwanted consequences from that night and that he was free to continue with the life he’d mapped out from a young boy.

>   And she was free to continue with hers. She rubbed absently at her chest. This hollow feeling was one she must grow accustomed to...unless this final, desperate gamble of hers bore fruit. But the decision must be his. She would give him no encouragement. And if this gamble paid off, she would know he loved her, even if he never actually said those words.

  She gazed around the room despondently. Olivia and Hugo were absent tonight as Olivia was suffering from a slight head cold and Liberty could garner no interest in joining Mrs Mount and the chattering chaperons. A nagging ache low in her belly was a constant reminder of her news for Dominic. How would he react? She didn’t fool herself that he would suddenly throw himself at her feet and declare his undying love for her, but would he...could he...reconsider his plans?

  She was confident she had been right to refuse Dominic’s offer. Although offer wasn’t the right word—it had been more of a statement.

  This is what we will do. I have decided. You will comply.

  Her heart still ached for him. Her body still craved him. But, most disconcerting of all, she missed him—just talking to him, laughing with him, teasing him.

  Being teased in return.

  No one but he called her Berty.

  The heart of her uncertainty was that she knew he liked her and cared for her and was attracted to her. She was almost certain he loved her.

  But did he love her enough?

  And would he give himself the chance to find out, or was he so committed to his lifelong vision of his future that he would continue along that path without considering the alternative? Without considering her?

  A flurry of activity at the ballroom door grabbed her attention as all activity seemed to freeze for an instant before conversations restarted, seemingly brighter and more animated than before. Liberty knew without looking what that meant. She had become accustomed to the phenomenon since Dominic’s father had arrived in town—he had that effect whenever he walked into an event.

  Liberty had never been introduced to the Duke, but he did not appear to be the sort of man who would welcome someone like Liberty Lovejoy as the wife of his son and heir. As Dominic had said, on that night, his father had not shirked his duty—his first wife, Dominic’s mother, had been the daughter of a marquess and the granddaughter of a duke. The aristocratic heritage of the Dukedom was intact, even though the current Duchess’s grandfather was a simple silversmith. And that also confirmed Liberty had been right to refuse Dominic because, unless she knew without a shadow of doubt that he loved her and, more importantly, unless Dominic knew and admitted it, she was convinced he would grow to regret their union and become ashamed of her.

  Only love, in all its strength and glory, would give a union between them the chance to stand strong and withstand other people’s opinions.

  So. Had Dominic arrived with the Duke and Duchess or would Liberty have to be patient a little longer? She tiptoed up to peer towards the door. She could not see. There were too many people in the way.

  ‘What are you up to, Sis?’

  She smiled up at Gideon as he slipped his arm around her waist. ‘Looking for Hope and Verity,’ she lied.

  Since Gideon had caught her crying he had become a calmer, nicer person. Lady Emily, too, had influenced him in a positive way although he still stayed out late with his friends. Liberty, however, no longer fretted about him quite so much and, surprisingly, the less she worried about him, the closer they had grown.

  ‘You’re a proper mother hen, aren’t you, Sis? Don’t worry about them—that’s what Mrs Mount is for. You should be looking to your own future.’ His blue eyes searched hers, suddenly serious. ‘It’s been five years, Liberty. It’s time you began to live your life again. Bernard would want you to.’

  Tears prickled at the back of her eyes. ‘I know he would.’

  It was the first time she had admitted to any member of her family that she might be ready to find love again. Until now it had felt as though she were laying her soul bare to be trampled over but, somehow, this time in London had helped all of the Lovejoys to change. They had grown closer as a family, although her sisters still complained bitterly when Romeo got up to mischief.

  ‘You deserve to be happy again, Lib. And you will be. I can feel it in my bones. I’m on my way to make sure Verity is all right. Bridlington is here. I had a word with him, but it’s best to be sure. I’ll see you later.’

  Gideon hugged her closer before releasing her and she watched as he made his way across the room.

  ‘Is he still causing you concern?’ The deep voice sent tingles racing through her.

  It was the same whenever they met.

  Whenever they spoke.

  Whenever they danced—the touch of his hand pure agony with the wanting of him. And, if he could, he always picked a waltz—her hand on his shoulder, his hand on her waist, the helpless longing in her heart and the aching void of loneliness in her chest. That void had begun to fill. Before. Now, it gaped wider and blacker than ever.

  She stretched her lips in a cool smile and turned to Dominic.

  ‘No. He is doing his duty as an older brother. It seems Bridlington is here tonight. He has already spoken to him and now he is checking on Verity.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

  A swift scan of him showed he was on edge, as he had been ever since that night. He disguised it well, but she could read his moods where other, more casual, observers would see nothing. It was time to put him out of his misery. And time to take that chance...to destroy that last tie that bound them together, that final strand that had been keeping her fragile hopes alive. And to hope Dominic would reach into his heart and see that the power was in his hands to forge a deeper, stronger link that could join them for ever.

  ‘Have you a dance free this evening, Liberty?’

  ‘I am afraid I do not dance this evening, my lord.’ She would go home early, with a headache as an excuse. ‘But I have news for you.’

  Their gazes fused, his as opaque as it ever had been, his face impassive.

  ‘I can confirm there were no c-c-consequences.’ Try as she might, she could not control the wobble in her voice. Anguish scorched every fibre of her being. ‘You need delay your betrothal no longer.’

  She bobbed a curtsy and turned away, but Dominic grabbed her elbow, stopping her. ‘Liberty!’ His voice was low. Urgent. ‘We need to talk.’

  She pivoted to face him. ‘We need do nothing. You are free now to make your choice—and you know as well as I that not one unattached lady in this room tonight would refuse an offer from you. The choice is up to you.’

  She stared up into those silvery eyes, but all she could see was her own image, reflected in them.

  ‘Not one, Dominic,’ she added softly. ‘Your choice.’

  She tugged her arm free and hurried away through the crowd to where Mrs Mount sat with the other chaperons. She looked up at Liberty enquiringly, her look changing to one of concern.

  ‘You were right, dear ma’am,’ said Liberty. ‘I should have remained at home this evening.’

  She laid her hand briefly to her lower belly and Mrs Mount gave her an understanding smile. She knew Liberty’s courses had begun. She would not think it odd for Liberty to leave.

  ‘There is no need for concern,’ Liberty continued. ‘I shall ask Gideon to escort me home and he will be back before you know it.’

  * * *

  Dominic watched as Liberty was absorbed into the crowd. He should feel released. He felt the opposite—as though prison walls were closing in on him. Ever since that night—the most glorious, wonderful night of his entire life—he had been as though held in limbo. He saw an insect trapped in amber once, at the British Museum, and that is exactly how he had felt since that night. But he had made a complete mull of it afterwards...talking of them marrying by special licence, speaking of consequences. Offering her money.<
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  She was rightly disgusted with him, but no more disgusted than he was with himself. What had happened to his famed manners? His powers of address? They appeared to have deserted him at the time he most desperately needed them. He had tried everything to recover their friendship as a prelude to courting Liberty Lovejoy properly. To prove to her that he loved her. Only her. And to prove he could not give a damn whether she was the daughter of a duke or the daughter of a ditch-digger. But how could he do that when she kept him at arm’s length with her perfect lady image and her exquisitely correct manners? His heart yearned for the old Liberty back...the real Liberty.

  Dominic snagged a glass of champagne from a passing footman, swallowed one mouthful and then stilled.

  It was not only his life that had been in limbo since that night. His thinking, it seemed, had been suspended, too. The family had noticed—he’d seen them watching him with concern when they thought he wouldn’t notice—but none of them had mentioned his list.

  Except Father.

  ‘You may feel you have backed yourself into a corner, Dom, but there is absolutely no need to make any decisions this year. It will wait. What is your hurry?’

  And he could not bring himself to admit that the hurry was the fear he might lose Liberty for good. And neither could he admit he had fallen in love. Not to Father, because he would then move heaven and earth to put things right for Dominic.

  But this was his mess. He was a grown man and it was up to him to sort it out.

  He tipped the remainder of the champagne into a nearby urn of flowers—with a silent apology to Felicity—and cursed himself for even more of a fool.