The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2)

by Meara Platt

  His greeting was met with a grumble. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

  Dillie rolled her eyes. “Oh, Father. I asked you not to growl at him. He’ll obtain the special license and marry me as soon as Mother arrives.” She returned her gaze to Ian, and then nudged him. “I think my father needs some reassurance.” He noticed a tinge of apprehension in her eyes as well. “I thought we might have a quiet ceremony at Coniston in a week’s time. We’ve sent word for my mother to join us there. Do you mind?”

  Did she doubt that he’d marry her? “It suits me fine. Is that what you tracked me down to ask?”

  “No, I had no idea you’d be here.” A light blush stained her cheeks. “You caught me being meddlesome again, but after all that happened at the inn, I grew concerned for Felicity’s safety and thought it a good idea to stop by for a visit. How is she?”

  Ian laughed. “Very noisy. She’ll fit right in with the Farthingale clan.”

  He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her again. She had been worried about Felicity, realizing as he had that his family might wish to harm the child. She’d dragged her father across the Lake District to offer their protection.

  Indeed, she was ridiculously meddlesome. And wonderful. He ought to have been angry, but wasn’t in the least. Dillie cared about him and Felicity, and for a man starved of all affection for most of his life, her caring felt like heaven. “I have the special license with me. We can marry today if you like.”

  John Farthingale looked obviously relieved.

  “See, Father. I told you all would be well.” She cast Ian a beaming smile, one that came straight from her gentle heart. “Next week will do.”

  Perhaps for her, but the week-long wait to hold her in his arms, to run his hands along her naked body and feel the tingle of her soft, warm skin... too damn long.

  He led her and her father into the lodge, rang for refreshments, and then summoned Miss Poole. “Her Highness has callers,” he said with a chuckle. “Please bring her down to meet our guests.”

  Miss Poole smiled and bustled off to do his bidding.

  Dillie, he could see, was practically leaping out of her skin with excitement. He’d expected her to accompany Miss Poole upstairs, and then realized that despite her obvious desire to do so, she wasn’t about to leave him alone with her father.

  Bloody hell. Had she told him everything?

  What a difference between the Farthingales and Markhams. He would never trust his family as Dillie trusted hers. In truth, Ian was glad he’d taken care of banishing his loathsome relatives. He hadn’t wanted them in England when he married, hadn’t wanted the remotest possibility of their foul taint touching his soon-to-be duchess.

  It didn’t take long for Miss Poole to return with Felicity. While Dillie and her father fussed and cooed over the child, Ian kept his gaze on Dillie and simply soaked in her genuine warmth. Felicity responded with glee, adoring the attention and squealing with delight at Dillie’s playful manner and John Farthingale’s obvious experience with boisterous children.

  Ian thought this moment was the best he’d ever experienced, a moment of exquisite purity. But as the morning wore on, and they settled into easy conversation—Felicity still commanding most of the attention—he realized that this first moment was only a hint of all the joys to come.

  Suddenly, the possibility overwhelmed him.

  This was why he had delayed facing Dillie. He hadn’t been ready to let down his guard, but it was happening anyway. His turtle shell was breaking apart, that hard outer layer he’d used to protect himself all of his life was beginning to splinter and crack. He no longer needed it now that he had Dillie and Felicity, yet his heart wasn’t quite ready to accept all the changes taking place.

  He wasn’t yet prepared for happiness.

  James never had his chance.

  Quinn walked in and, with apologies for the interruption, brought Ian’s thoughts back to the present by handing him a letter. “This just arrived for you, Your Grace.”

  Grabbing at the opportunity, Ian was on his feet and muttering something about an important matter that required his urgent attention. A feeble excuse, and no doubt they all saw through it, but the memory of James struggling in the icy water, slowly sinking into his watery grave, was too painful to keep contained. He had to leave before his facade of calm and control fell apart.

  Dillie, who had been on her knees on the carpet sacrificing her ears and nose to Felicity’s curiosity, quickly handed the child back to her nanny and scrambled to her feet as best as she could on one good ankle. “Ian?”

  “Don’t follow me, Daffy. Not this time.”

  CHAPTER 16

  DRAT! Ian had called her Daffy again. What had happened to suddenly overset him? Was it the letter? He hadn’t even opened it before he’d shot to his feet. They’d all been having a lovely time. Felicity was an adorable mix of imp and angel, and Dillie had loved her on sight. Who wouldn’t love those bright eyes and kissable, pudgy cheeks?

  She turned to her father, who’d also come to his feet and was now standing beside her, one arm around her shoulder. “Give him a moment, sweetheart.”

  She nodded.

  Miss Poole, a woman of infinite good sense and discretion as far as Dillie was concerned, quietly bundled Felicity in her arms. “Time for Her Highness to take a nap. Please excuse us.” She scooped up the child’s blanket and a couple of toys that were on the carpet, and then bustled from the room, leaving Dillie alone with her father.

  Dillie wasn’t certain how much time passed, perhaps only a few minutes, but it felt like eons. She strode to the tall windows that overlooked the back garden and peered out, hoping for a glimpse of Ian. When coming here, the road had wound parallel to a stream, and she realized the stream probably ran behind the lodge, just beyond the stone fence at the rear of the garden. “I don’t see him. He must have hopped over the garden wall.”

  Her father joined her by the row of windows. “Give him a little more time. Sometimes a man just needs to be alone.”

  “I’ll give him all the time he needs, Father. But he’s been alone far too long. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He’s been making his own way since he was a child of four. Of four! No one to help him. No one to comfort him. Worst of all, no one to forgive him for the accident that defines him.”

  She sighed and turned to him. “In truth, that tragedy still defines him, for he won’t allow himself to get past it. I want to help him, but I’m not certain how to do it. I’ve never experienced anything but love from our family. He’s never known anything but pain. Caring and affection are new sensations for him. He isn’t quite ready for them. I suppose that’s why he’s suddenly clawing the air as though suffocating and needing to escape his tomb.”

  Her father nodded. “Are you afraid he’ll look upon your marriage as that tomb and wish to escape from his confinement, wish to escape from you?”

  “I don’t know. He seems reconciled to marrying me. He wants to marry me. I think he’s afraid he’ll disappoint me as a husband.” She paused a moment and swallowed hard. “He won’t, of course. I love him, and won’t ever love another man as I do him. I don’t regret a moment of the time I’ve spent with him, and hope we share a lifetime together. I think he wants the same, only he believes he’s undeserving. He’s having a hard time accepting a partner. Me.”

  “Lily always thought you were the smarter twin,” her father said, putting his arm around her once more as he kissed her on the forehead. “I’m sure he’ll come around. He isn’t a fool.”

  She relented and rested her head against her father’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so patient and wonderful with me. Papa, I love you very much.”

  He let out a soft laugh. “What’s this? You haven’t called me Papa in years, not since you and Lily started considering yourselves all grown up.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Your mother and I feel much the same about the five of you. We’re quite proud of all of you. Especially you, Dillie.”

&n
bsp; She gazed at him in confusion. “Me? Why?”

  “There’s a quiet, loving strength about you. I believe the duke recognized that strength when he first met you. Thinking back, it’s no coincidence that he always seemed to be close at hand when you needed help.”

  “Not always, Father. He wasn’t stalking me like prey.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “Of course not, he isn’t the slimy sort. What I’m trying to say is that he noticed you, seemed to enjoy your company. Seemed to care about you and wished to protect you.”

  “Indeed, he did just that when Charles Ealing, the clunch, tried to seduce me.” She rolled her eyes. “He got what he deserved. He and Lady Mary will keep each other unhappy for the rest of their arrogant lives.”

  Her father cleared his throat. “Yes, well. You properly put Ealing in his place. Be that as it may. I was wrong to worry that the duke was marrying you merely out of a sense of duty. I noticed the way he looked at you this morning. All morning long. As though he were drinking you in and it still wasn’t enough to satisfy his thirst.” His expression turned affectionately mawkish. “I look at your mother that way. Always have, from the first day I set eyes on her.”

  Dillie blushed. “He hasn’t said he loves me.”

  “He’s never encountered a force of nature such as you. I’m sure he doesn’t know what to make of you. He just knows that he’s been hit and doesn’t stand a chance. I give him no more than a few months before he’s on his knees before you, proclaiming his love.”

  Dillie rolled her eyes. “I doubt it.”

  He grinned. “Fathers are wise and all knowing. He will, mark my words. Now, stop wasting time talking to me and go find him. A man shouldn’t have all that much time alone. He might find out he likes it.”

  Laughing, she threw her arms around him. “I do love you,” she said in an emphatic whisper.

  He returned her hug. “You can conquer worlds, Dillie. Your mother and I were so worried about you when you were a toddler, a twin to Lily, who could read and write by the age of three. She had mastered Newton by the age of eight. How could anyone compete with that? Much less her twin? But we saw something remarkable happen between you girls. Lily knew facts, but she relied on you for knowledge about life. She always turned to you, looked up to you, even though you were the youngest.”

  Dillie snorted. “By all of five minutes.”

  “Lily followed you around like a little puppy, marveling at your brilliance. You never failed her. We knew then that you would be just fine. Better than fine. That the man who captured your heart would be fortunate indeed. Now, run along. Remind him just how fortunate he is.”

  ***

  “Ugh! Ian, I’m stuck!”

  Ian was sitting under a sturdy oak, his back resting against the tree’s hard trunk while he gazed into the rushing waters of the stream and thought of James, when he heard Dillie call out to him. He turned toward the stone wall that separated the Swineshead gardens from the stream and saw her impertinent head sticking up over it. Her fingers were gripping the smooth top stones while she tried to gain a foothold atop those stones, no easy task with a bruised ankle.

  He quickly folded the letter he’d been reading and tucked it into his boot. Then, shaking his head, he rose and hurried toward her. “What in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” He easily hoisted himself onto the wall, and then reached down and carefully hauled her up beside him.

  She let out a soft breath, her face pink and her hair a little disheveled from her exertion. “The obvious answer is that I was trying to scale the wall. It’s much higher than I realized.”

  He jumped back down, and then took her by the waist and gently set her down so that she was standing on the soft grass beside him along the bank of the stream. They could no longer be seen from the house, and he meant to take full advantage. “The obvious answer? Is there more than one?”

  She nodded. “I was worried about you.”

  A light breeze wafted through her dark curls, mussing them so that a few slipped out of their pins and whipped against her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled a soft, crystal blue, as they always did when looking at him. “So was I,” he admitted.

  She glanced toward the stream, staring a long moment at its sweeping current and the little caps of white foam formed by the wind and underwater rocks. “You were thinking of James.”

  “You don’t pull your punches, do you?” He sounded angrier than intended. After all, he’d been the one to bull his way out of the lodge without a word and leave them all wondering what had just happened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound resentful. I was the one who acted rudely.”

  She slipped her hand in his. “Farthingales have thick skins. We rarely take offense.”

  He traced a finger along the line of her jaw, and then placed his hand to the back of her neck and drew her in for a long, lingering kiss. “No, your skin’s quite soft. Delicate. I ought to know, for I’ve studied it thoroughly.”

  She smiled a soft, Dillie smile that warmed his soul. “Thoroughly? You’ve only just begun to know me. I believe you’ll require a lot more study before you can make any assertions, Your Grace. A lot more study.”

  “I quite agree.” He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her again, pressing his mouth against her sweet, welcoming lips, loving the way she accepted him, drew him in, responded to his touch. She eased his soul. A moment ago he’d been staring at the stream, thinking of the day James had died, thinking of the two of them sinking under that icy water and no longer able to breathe.

  Those dark thoughts faded whenever he was with Dillie. The darkness that shrouded his heart was no match for the girl. Her smile alone could kick the hell out it.

  As he continued to kiss her—Lord, she felt so good—he heard the whoosh of water flowing with the current. It’s just a stream meandering through the countryside, not a child’s watery grave.

  He felt a light breeze dancing across his body and the warmth of the sun upon his shoulders. He caught the scent of grass and water and the peach scent of Dillie’s skin. I want this. I want Dillie. James, forgive me.

  But he no longer needed his brother’s forgiveness if the words in the letter he’d just read were true. He didn’t dare believe it, didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Oh, dear,” Dillie whispered against his lips. “We’re not even married yet and you’ve already lost interest in my kisses.” She tried to keep her voice light and teasing, but he could see that she was concerned about him. Surely, she had no doubts about their impending marriage, even though he was an ass and unable as yet to express his feelings for her.

  “That will never happen.” He drew her up against him, taking her into his arms and holding her so that their bodies were practically molded into one. Then he kissed her again, his lips taking hers, plundering and conquering, hot and unrestrained, holding nothing back. He wanted her to feel the heat of his desire and know it would never fade. Not now. Not years from now when they were old and gray. Not ever, for it seemed as though Dillie had been made for him, as though someone had reached into his heart and created the perfect girl, the only one who could ever make him happy.

  Had James done it? Had he purposely thrown him and Dillie together that night in Lady Eloise’s lilac-scented garden?

  He eased away to stare at her. “You sneeze when you eat sardines. You can face down an army of villains, yet you’re easily rattled when out in society.”

  “I am not.” She let out an adorable, breathy eep when he began to trace his finger along her throat.

  “You eep whenever you’re ruffled, usually when I’m near. You blush whenever I touch you, turning bright red from the tips of your ears to the tip of your nose. You’re blushing right now.”

  He stopped her when she opened her mouth to protest. “Dillie, you crawl around on carpets with your cousins, and your hair is never perfect. There’s always a stray curl dangling over your forehead or about your ears.”

  She frowned. “Is there a point to your inv
entory of my faults?”

  He reached out to tuck back her hair, surprised she’d taken his words the wrong way. “They’re not faults,” he said in a throaty whisper. “They’re all the reasons I wish to marry you. I don’t want cold, society elegance. I’ve lived with cold my entire life. I want chaos and meddlesome warmth. I want someone who gives a fig whether I live or die. I want someone who will love me even though she thinks I’m an idiot.”

  “Oh, Ian. I haven’t called you that in a long while. And you know I never really thought you were an idiot.”

  He nodded. “The point is, I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

  She shook her head and laughed. “I think that was a compliment. If so, I’ll take it. Although it isn’t quite the down-on-your-knees-desperate-to-have-you speech I was hoping for, but it’s a good start.”

  He was about to withdraw the letter he’d tucked into his boot when Dillie suddenly let out a soft cry. A butterfly had landed on her hand. “Ian, look! It’s so beautiful,” she said in an excited whisper, her eyes widening in delight. “Look at how the colors on its wings shimmer, the emerald green and purple amethyst. I’m afraid to move or even breathe. I want it to stay. I want to hold on to it and never let it fly away.”

  “You have to let it go.”

  She frowned lightly. “No. Why should I?”

  “It has to move on in order to survive. You can’t—” He suddenly felt as though an anvil had been dropped on his head. Dillie’s desire to hold on to that butterfly was no different from his desire to hold on to James’ death. All his life, he’d been trapped by his memory of that dreadful day. He hadn’t moved on. He’d never been able to let James go.

  Bloody hell.

  He stared at Dillie, wondering just how she’d manipulated him into saying the words aloud. Let it go. Move on. She wasn’t looking at him, but smiling at the butterfly. “How...?” He shook his head. “Never mind. You’re scary, you know that?”

  She cast him an innocent gaze, her gorgeous eyes wide as she took him in. “Because I like butterflies?”