The Duke of Desire

by Darcy Burke

  And why not?

  Because she was a lady’s companion, and he had no interest in marrying. Nor did she.

  West folded her letter and shoved it into the top drawer of his desk. He picked up another letter in an effort to communicate that the interview was over. “I’m not courting anyone. I’m merely going to Bath to visit people.”

  Hemphill stood. He wasn’t stupid—he knew he was being dismissed. “Very good, Your Grace. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “Thank you.”

  After the secretary had gone, West surrendered to thoughts of Ivy once more. He pulled the letter from his desk and read it a second time. Then a third.

  Each time he hoped to glean something new, but it was still the same terse, impassive communication. What had he hoped for? That she would wax sentimental about their time together? That she’d beg to see him? That she’d thank him for the best night of her life?

  No. Those were the things he would say.

  He was changed. He’d thought of little else but her over the past fortnight. He had no interest in continuing with his life the way he had. That had been the best night of his life—watching her joy, feeling her passion, giving himself over to her completely. He never abandoned his control, but he’d done it that night. It was supposed to be all about her, and he’d surrendered to her to take his own pleasure.

  It all felt so unfinished to him. Not just because they hadn’t had sex, but because there were so many things he didn’t know about her. Things he longed to discover. Things he felt compelled to learn.

  Which was why he was going to Bath. Sitting there thinking about what to do next, it had seemed obvious, imperative.

  What would she say when she saw him? Would she tell him to go away? Or would she welcome him?

  He could hardly wait to find out.

  Bath, ten days later

  Ivy and Lady Dunn walked up the steps to an elegant town house in The Circus. It was larger and more grand than their leased house on George Street.

  “I daresay Lady Parnell has done quite well for herself,” Lady Dunn said appreciatively. “It always helps when your granddaughter marries a wealthy earl.”

  The butler opened the door and welcomed them inside. He led them upstairs to the drawing room, which overlooked the street below. They were barely over the threshold before Lucy and Aquilla, Ivy’s two closest friends, had thrown their arms around Ivy.

  “You’re finally here!” Aquilla said, squeezing Ivy tightly.

  “Yes, I’m here. I didn’t realize you would be, however.” Ivy had expected Lucy. She and her husband, the Earl of Dartford, were visiting her grandmother, Lady Parnell, who now lived in Bath.

  They separated, and both Lucy and Aquilla were grinning. Ivy couldn’t help but smile in return. They were the two people in the world she could count on to make her smile.

  “It was a brilliant secret, wasn’t it?” Lucy asked gleefully. “If not, blame Aquilla, because it was her idea.”

  Ivy didn’t doubt that. Aquilla was the sweetest and most good-natured of all of them. “I will blame her, just as I am delighted to see her. To see you both.”

  They looked disgustingly happy. Aquilla had always been beautiful, with her dark curls, porcelain skin, and summer-sky-blue eyes, but she was positively incandescent now. She was a master of the demure smile and the flirtatious blink. She was also a chatterbox, which had deterred most men from pursuing her on the marriage mart. As it happened, she’d been feigning that behavior for the distinct purpose of driving men away. It had been a thoroughly clever ploy that Ivy had wholeheartedly endorsed.

  Lucy, on the other hand, had been a bit dismayed at learning of Aquilla’s aversion to marriage. But only because she’d recently found love with Dartford. Before marrying him, it had been she and Ivy who had championed independence. But then Lucy had fallen prey to Cupid’s arrow, and Ivy had thought for sure she was alone. When Aquilla had admitted that she too was avoiding marriage, Ivy had been thrilled. Except Aquilla had also capitulated, and Ivy was now alone anyway.

  Ivy looked at Aquilla. “I thought you and Sutton were at Tintern Abbey.”

  “We were. We decided to stop in Bath on our way back to Sutton Park. I knew Lucy was visiting her grandmother and that you and Lady Dunn would be here for the fall, so I hatched the surprise plan and wrote to Lucy.”

  “You really are the cleverest of girls,” Ivy said.

  Aquilla laughed. “No, you are, but I shall accept the compliment.”

  “Are you ladies going to stand in the doorway all afternoon?” Lady Dunn asked.

  The trio turned in unison.

  “Oh, I’m certain they have much to discuss,” Lady Parnell said.

  Lady Dunn sighed. “Oh, to be young again.”

  “No, thank you,” Lady Parnell said primly, but with a hint of a smile.

  “Come, let us sit over here,” Lucy said, guiding them to a sitting area in the corner away from the older ladies. “This way we can share secrets,” she whispered, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

  Ivy almost said she didn’t have anything to share, but of course she did. Would she, though? Lucy and Aquilla were the only two people she trusted in the world, and yet she’d never even told them about her family or her…transgression.

  Some things were too humiliating, too painful to share, even with the most important people.

  Lucy and Aquilla sat on the small settee, and Ivy took the chair beside it, to Aquilla’s left.

  “Tell us about the house party,” Lucy urged. Her dark hair was braided and coiled atop her head with gentle curls brushing her temples. She wore a peach-colored gown with fetching coral jewelry that accented her ensemble perfectly. She looked every bit the stylish countess, so different from the wallflower Ivy had met five years ago.

  “Is it true that Miss Forth-Hodges eloped?” Aquilla asked, her eyes wide.

  “Yes,” Ivy said. “Her parents declined Townsend’s suit—I’m afraid he lost his temper at a shuttlecock match, and they concluded that he wasn’t ready for marriage. They asked Emmaline to wait a year, but she didn’t want to.” Ivy realized they were both staring at her with keen interest.

  “You know quite a bit about what happened,” Lucy said.

  “She and I became friendly during the party. I rather like her, actually.”

  Aquilla winced. “I feel terrible about what happened with Sutton.”

  “Don’t,” Ivy said. “She wasn’t upset. In fact, she said her parents were behind that entire match. And anyway, she’s quite happy now with Lord Townsend.”

  “Is she?” Aquilla asked with some relief. “I’m pleased to hear it. Is he a decent gentleman, I hope?”

  “He seemed devoted to Emmaline.” That he’d been a man of his word and married her made him a decent enough fellow in Ivy’s opinion.

  “I’m glad things turned out well for her,” Lucy said. “And I must applaud her intrepid nature for pursuing what she wanted.” Lucy was the most independent-minded woman Ivy had ever met, so it was no surprise that she admired Emmaline’s actions.

  “If we ever have occasion to be at the same event, I shall introduce you,” Ivy said. “I am certain you will like her.”

  Aquilla fidgeted with her gown. “Are you absolutely certain she bears me no ill will?”

  Ivy shot her friend a warm, direct stare. “Absolutely.”

  “I hear the party was teeming with Untouchables,” Lucy said, grinning. “The Duke of Danger was there, was he not?”

  Ivy recalled the blond Marquess of Axbridge. She’d seen him speaking to West on a number of occasions. West? She was trying to think of him as Clare now. “Yes.”

  “Did you speak with him?” Aquilla asked.

  Ivy arched a brow at her. “Why should I?”

  Aquilla laughed. “Why indeed. It goes without saying, then, that you didn’t interact with the Duke of Desire. Or did we officially change his name to the Duke of Debauchery?” She looked from Ivy to Lucy.

>   “We did not, but we certainly could.” Lucy turned her head to Ivy. “Are you in favor?”

  Ivy had pressed for that name based on his scandalous behavior. However, now that she knew the reason for it… No, now that she’d experienced it, she much preferred to call him the Duke of Desire. In truth, she wished she could call him her Duke of Desire.

  Heat crept up her neck, and she coughed. “I think it’s simpler if we stick with the first name. That’s what everyone calls him now anyway.”

  Lucy exhaled. “Yes, that name seems to have caught on. Has Danger done the same?”

  “It hasn’t seemed to, but I can’t say for sure,” Ivy said, relieved that they were not lingering on the topic of West. Clare. Bloody hell.

  Aquilla tapped her finger against her chin. “How many Untouchables is that now? There’s the Forbidden Duke.” She looked at Lucy. “The Duke of Daring, of course. And the Duke of Deception.” She flashed a smile. “The Duke of Desire and the Duke of Danger. Five.”

  “I’d argue that the first three are no longer Untouchable since you married them.” Ivy included their friend Nora in that number even though she wasn’t here.

  “You may have a point,” Lucy conceded. “We should replenish their numbers, which means there ought to be one more. Any suggestions?”

  Ivy recalled a conversation she’d had with Lady Dunn the day before. “Lady Dunn’s godson is returning to England. He’s just inherited an earldom. He’s spent the last decade on an island in the tropics and apparently has no interest in being the earl, but he has no choice. Lady Dunn said if he could find a way out of it, he would. He’s been nothing but a source of disappointment and dread for his parents. She called him defiant.”

  Aquilla’s eyes sparked with mirth. “Behold, the Duke of Defiance.”

  Ivy smiled. “So it would seem. Or Disappointment or Dread.”

  Lucy laughed. “The Duke of Dread sounds like a pirate! Does he enjoy sailing? He must if he lives in the tropics.”

  Aquilla and Ivy joined in her laughter. The maid took that moment to offer a tray of cakes. Lucy indicated for her to leave it on the table. The maid said there was tea on the other side of the room.

  Lucy gave her a gracious smile. “Thank you, Laura.”

  They all nibbled on cakes for a few minutes before Ivy asked Aquilla about her trip to Tintern.

  Aquilla’s pale blue eyes lit with joy. “Oh, it was splendid! You simply must go.” She glanced between her friends. “Both of you. We had a lovely holiday.” Her cheeks flushed a fetching shade of palest pink. “But then Ned could’ve taken me to a rookery, and I would’ve had a grand time.”

  Lucy laughed softly, and the two of them exchanged knowing glances. Ivy had known things would change when her friends married, that they would, naturally, put their marriages well before their friendships. She hadn’t, however, expected to feel jealous of what they had. She’d accepted her lot long ago, and never imagined she might change her mind.

  That was preposterous. She was not changing her mind. And even if she was, it wouldn’t matter. She was a companion. A spinster. And she was spoiled goods.

  Except West hadn’t made her feel that way. He’d made her feel special and beautiful, and he hadn’t given two figs about her ruined status.

  She reminded herself that it was easy for him to feel that way in the context of their association. He needn’t be concerned with whether she was respectable or marriageable.

  “I’m just so glad the three of us are together again,” Aquilla said. She beamed at both of them and, as she was seated in the middle, reached out and clasped each of their hands. “Tomorrow evening, we will attend the assembly and take up our positions along the wall, just like old times.”

  Old times. As in six months ago. But it might have been a lifetime. Everything was different now. What would Ivy do next Season? Lucy and Aquilla had awakened her from a five-year descent into loneliness and misery. Without them by her side, would she tumble back into the darkness?

  Lucy took her hand from Aquilla’s in order to nab another cake from the tray. “How long can you stay?” she asked Aquilla.

  “We planned for a week, and we arrived yesterday. I wish it could be longer, but we’ve already been gone from George for a long time. He’s eager to have Ned back home.” George was a mental invalid who Ned took care of. Aquilla had confided the deepest secret to them, that George was actually Ned’s brother. Ivy had liked Ned anyway, but learning how devoted he was to his ill brother had vaulted him to near sainthood in her eyes. To see someone for whom family was sacrosanct gave Ivy hope. Not for herself, but for the long-term happiness of her dear friend.

  Aquilla let go of Ivy’s hand and glanced anxiously between her and Lucy. “I’m a bit nervous. You see… Ned and I are expecting a child, and we don’t know how George will react.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened, and she gasped, her rounded mouth quickly turning into a beatific smile. “We are too!”

  Aquilla let out a happy squeal, and they hugged each other fiercely. Ivy looked at them together on the settee, cloaked in their joy, and felt a massive knot gather in her throat. She was beyond thrilled for them, but to know that they were so happy and that they would soon be mothers… She had to work to keep her emotions in check. Inside her, a torrent of sadness and despair threatened to tear her apart.

  They separated, and Ivy forced a wide smile. “I’m so delighted for you both.”

  “You must be the godmother,” Lucy said.

  Aquilla nodded. “Oh yes, you must. For both of us.”

  Ivy laughed because if she didn’t let out something, she was going to explode from the pressure of it all. “If you insist.”

  “We do.”

  The conversation turned to when they expected their babies to arrive—within a month of each other, if their calculations were correct—and Ivy did her best to remain engaged and appear interested. In truth, she wanted to leave. Which made her feel awful. Her friends had always been a source of sanctuary for her—the only one she’d ever had.

  By the time she and Lady Dunn finally left, Ivy wanted to climb into bed and pull the covers over her head. But hiding wasn’t her way. Instead, she’d finish knitting the socks she planned to take to the workhouse when she visited next. Yes, she always felt better when she was doing something for someone else.

  It made no sense to focus on herself—she was as she would ever be.

  Chapter Thirteen

  West descended the stairs of the fashionable three-story town house in The Paragon. Hemphill had secured an excellent property for his use while he stayed in Bath. The furnishings were elegant and comfortable, if a tad fussy for his taste, and the staff was attentive and pleasant. With the exception of the cook, whom he’d met after breakfast that morning. With coarse white hair that stuck out from her cap at odd angles and large brown eyes that rarely blinked, her appearance was a bit wild, but certainly not intimidating. And then, in a deep, admonishing tone, she’d berated him for not finishing his kippers.

  He’d explained that he was full and that it had been a delicious meal. She’d scolded him to do better next time.

  The butler, a compact, efficient fellow called Biddle, had apologized profusely but said she was too talented to let go. West had understood, for they really were excellent kippers.

  Biddle met West at the base of the stairs. “Are you going out, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, can you tell me the location of the nearest workhouse?”

  The butler stared at him a moment before blinking just once. He composed his features quickly, but not before West detected his surprise. “Ah, I believe the nearest would be Walcot on London Road. It’s a ten-minute walk, perhaps. Would you like me to send for the coach?”

  West set his hat on his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll walk since it’s decided not to rain today.”

  Biddle followed him to the door and opened it swiftly. “Do you have evening plans?”

  “I believe there is an
assembly, which I plan to attend. I shall dine before I leave.”

  “Very good.”

  West pulled on his gloves as he departed. He glanced up at the gray sky before trotting down the steps to the sidewalk. He turned right toward London Road.

  Visiting the workhouse would be the first step toward finding Ivy. Bath wasn’t terribly large, and he was certain she’d find her way to the local workhouse. Step two would be attending the assembly tonight. The Bath Assembly Rooms hosted weekly parties that offered gambling and dancing. He felt certain that Lady Dunn would be there, given her penchant for cards. And wherever Lady Dunn went, her lovely companion was sure to be.

  Feeling particularly optimistic, West strode onto London Road, nodding at people as he passed them. He came upon the workhouse and went to the entrance. Should he knock or just walk right in?

  Shrugging, he tried the door. Finding it unlocked, he pushed his way inside. He immediately recognized that it wasn’t as tidy as the workhouse in Wendover. The entry hall was damp, and a quick perusal revealed a leak in the corner. The wall was stained from the moisture. There was also a fetid smell, and he wasn’t sure it was entirely due to the wet plaster from the disrepair.

  He moved farther inside, to a wide doorway that led to a dim room where inmates picked oakum from ropes. The material would be employed in shipbuilding. A door to the outside stood ajar, and West could hear inmates breaking rocks, which would be used for roads. The workhouse in Wendover had sported a small yard for such endeavors, but West could already see that this facility was larger and more populated. It was also in need of more attention. The windows along the far wall were much too small to provide adequate light for the inmates’ tasks.

  “May I help you?”

  West turned toward the question. A small, nearly bald gentleman had walked up behind him. He looked at West with a mix of wariness and apprehension, his gaze furtive and uncertain. Despite his lack of hair, he seemed rather youthful to be running a workhouse. West thought he could even be a year or two younger than him.