To the Duke, With Love--The Rakes of St. James

by Amelia Grey

  “I’m surprised the earl doesn’t want you to marry now, so he doesn’t have to be responsible for you.”

  “There is no reason for him to want that. I have no suitors. I cause him no trouble and very little expense.”

  “I can see that, as well. However, it won’t bother me at all to trouble him, and I will. I want you to come with your brother to Hawksthorn. I’ll clear it with the earl.”

  “You obviously don’t know my uncle very well.”

  “No, I don’t. But I know men, Miss Quick. And I know peers. He may have denied you time and time again to wield his power over you for the shame he feels you caused him, but he won’t deny me this request to have you come with your brother.”

  “As you said, he is a severe man, Your Grace.”

  “Do not underestimate me, no matter what it is I’m fighting for. Plan to be ready to travel with your brother. I’ll be sending a carriage for you.”

  Her heart started pounding and her knees trembling. She was attracted to the confidence she heard in his voice and the strength she sensed inside him to win. But no, she wouldn’t get her hopes up that she would be allowed to leave Mammoth House. She’d had them dashed far too many times, and she didn’t want to go through it again.

  “I will wait to hear that from my uncle.”

  His frown relaxed and he gave her a half smile. “You will challenge me even on this.”

  “I know my uncle.”

  “Earls seldom turn down dukes when they request a favor.”

  “Then I will defer to your power of persuasion, if that happens.”

  He stepped in close to her and spoke softly. “You know there is another reason I want you to come with your brother, don’t you?”

  Her breaths turned to choppy silent gasps of anticipation. Did he want to kiss her again? Right now? Should she let him? Her body could almost feel the wanton sensations he’d caused inside her the last time his lips touched hers.

  But no. She couldn’t let him. His kisses were too overwhelming, too inviting. She could easily give in to anything he asked of her if she allowed him to kiss her again.

  She swallowed hard and said, “I know there will be no repeat of what happened between us that night we were alone during the storm—in this room.”

  “Are you sure about that, Miss Quick?”

  No.

  “Yes,” she answered but wasn’t at all sure it was the truth.

  “All right, for now I’ll save that battle for another day.” A teasing light sparkled in his green eyes. “But rest assured, we will return to it and I will prove that you are wrong. For now, I’ll take it as a good sign that you remember what happened between us that night and how it felt, even though that’s not what I was referring to when I said there was another reason I wanted you to come to Hawksthorn.”

  Loretta’s cheeks flamed hot and she balked at her natural instinct to swirl away from him. Instead she managed to say, “It’s not?”

  “No, but I’m heartened it was the first thing that came to your mind.” He smiled easily, attractively.

  “You’re a beast,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I want you, Miss Quick, and you might as well know it now.”

  Without warning he slid his open hand around to the back of her neck. He cupped it gently but tightly, pulling her up close. Keeping his gaze solidly on hers, he lowered his head and claimed her lips in a sudden, hard, and demanding kiss that stole the air from her lungs.

  Chapter 11

  A gentleman must never take advantage of a lady even if she gives him permission to do so.

  A PROPER GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO WOOING THE PERFECT LADY

  SIR VINCENT TYBALT VALENTINE

  Loretta’s surprised gasp dissolved in her throat as the duke’s lips moved quickly and hungrily over hers, instantly feeding the longing she’d felt since their last kiss. Her lips parted. His tongue filled her mouth, thoroughly exploring its depths with swiftness. She swallowed his breaths, his moans, and he inhaled hers with an eagerness that thrilled her.

  The wait for this moment had been long, and she needed no encouragement to join the kiss. She was as fervent as he. With his lips moving back and forth over hers with such intensity, Loretta felt as if his passion for her were seeping deep into her soul, branding her and forever making her his.

  “Yes, I’ve wanted this,” he whispered against her lips as his wide hand slid down her neck and chest to cover her breast and gently massage her. “I’ve needed this. To feel your lips on mine.” He kissed her swiftly and then lifted his head only enough to look into her eyes and whisper, “To touch you like this and know that you want me to even while you deny it,” before claiming her lips once again.

  Yes, that was true, her mind whispered, but she couldn’t say the words aloud. She couldn’t admit to him that she wanted this, too. Loretta had no control over the thrilling sensations hurling through her but knew she had no desire to stop them. The duke’s lips were possessive, demanding, and thorough.

  Just the way she’d remembered them in her dreams.

  She slid her arms up and around his shoulders, letting her hands skim across his strong back. His body was firm, warm. Her body ached to feel him closer, for him to touch her with more strength, but she wasn’t exactly sure how to accomplish that without asking him to press her closer, tighter, and she was almost to the point of doing that.

  The duke’s lips captured hers over and over again. Some kisses were light, so soft it was as if his lips were barely touching hers. Others were hard and passionate, and felt as if he were ravishing her. They kissed and kissed until Loretta was so languid with delicious pleasure she only wanted to lie down on the settee, let him cover her body with his, and then kiss her some more. But just as all good and glorious things come to an end, so did the duke’s powerful and passionate kisses.

  He lifted his lips from hers, kissed his way down to the crook of her neck, letting his tongue moisten her skin there, before lifting his head and looking down into her eyes.

  The duke’s lips were tempting and she wanted more. It felt as if his gaze were caressing her face, and she was almost persuaded to force him to kiss her again. Loretta’s chest heaved with indecision.

  “I believe that settles your concern about whether or not there will be more kisses between us, Miss Quick. There will be.”

  Yes, she believed that, too, now.

  He released her neck and stepped a respectable distance from her. “But I do have other reasons for wanting you to come to Hawksthorn. I want to prove to you that my sister is worthy of your brother.”

  Reminding her of the unkind things she’d said about Lady Adele was almost as embarrassing as her referring to their shared kisses when he indicated they weren’t even on his mind at the time, and then kissing her into delirium to prove to her that they were.

  “You know I never should have said those things about your sister. I’m deeply ashamed of myself for that, and I’m sure they aren’t true. But all that aside, you are no gentleman for reminding me of it.”

  He hid a smile by wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “It’s not easy to get the best of you, Miss Quick, and I must take the opportunity to do so when you present it to me. I didn’t mind you expressing your doubts about Adele. And it’s quite noble for you to want your brother to marry a vicar’s daughter. However, I—”

  “Here it is,” Paxton said, striding into the room as if he were walking only on his toes.

  Loretta hoped he would have no inkling she’d just been so thoroughly kissed.

  He handed the package to the duke. “He finally found it. Took him a while but there’s not a rumple in the pretty yellow ribbon.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Quick.” His Grace looked down at it and asked, “Did he give you just one?”

  Paxton blinked rapidly. “Yes, only one. I thought—I mean, were there more?”

  “Perhaps my driver misunderstood, but yes. There are two packages. This is the book I brough
t for Miss Quick, but there is another. A box of confections. Sweets from a new bakery in London.” He turned to Loretta. “I thought, perhaps, you might like some. There are plenty to share. I suppose I’ll have to go get it.”

  “No, of course not,” Paxton said. “Nonsense. Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll do it for you.”

  “Are you sure? Or perhaps you could have a servant to get it for me. I hate to see you take care of an errand for me.”

  “Happy to, Your Grace. Not a problem at all. I’ll dash back out and get them right now.” His exuberance was infectious, and Loretta had to smile. “It is just one more box, correct? Small box or large?” Paxton made sizes with his hands.

  “Yes, about that size,” the duke answered. “My driver will find it, I’m sure. Thank you, Mr. Quick.”

  As soon as Paxton was out the door for the second time, the duke moved close to Loretta again and spoke in a low voice, saying, “You are looking well. I see you have had no ill effects from the encounter with the icy wind the night of the storm.”

  “Nor you, and don’t try to change the subject.”

  “I didn’t know I was.”

  “You didn’t forget to tell Paxton or your driver about the second package. Did you?”

  “Of course not. I didn’t forget the first by mistake, either. They were both by my design. I arranged everything with my driver before I came inside. I knew it would be the only way I could have a few minutes alone with you. Twice.”

  “That was sneaky.”

  He shrugged. “It was strategy. Something that you will find I’m very good at. Here.” He handed her the package. “This is for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Loretta eagerly untied the yellow ribbon, peeled away the stiff parchment, and read: “A Proper Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing the Perfect Lady by Sir Vincent Tybalt Valentine.”

  With delighted surprise, she looked up at him and smiled. “The book that caused you so much grief.”

  “And is responsible for creating the three Rakes of St. James. You did say you’d like to read it one day, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did. I had asked Mr. Huddleston to see if he could find a copy for me in Grimsfield but there wasn’t a shop that had one.”

  “Perhaps one day there will be no copies for anyone to buy, but for now it sells because there is always a man who wants a few suggestions on how to woo a lady.”

  “I’ll start on it tonight. Thank you. It is a beguiling title.” She looked at the cover and then back up to the duke. “I wonder if Paxton would like to read it, too.”

  “Do him a favor and don’t suggest it.” The duke gave her one of his very attractive grins and said, “I hope you find it as amusing as I did years ago.”

  “I will let you know.”

  He nodded. “Now tell me about the lad who showed up at your door. Is he still here? Did you find out who he is and where he’s from?”

  “Yes, he’s still here, and I’m sorry to say I haven’t learned much more about him.” She absently hugged the book to her chest as she talked. “His name is Farley. Whether it’s his first name or surname, he wouldn’t say. He won’t tell me his age, where he came from, or where he wants to go.”

  “How was his attitude when you talked to him?”

  “Wary and a bit impish.”

  “I had thought that might be the case. It sounds as if he’s being obstinate or perhaps even secretive on purpose. He doesn’t want you to know who he is.”

  “Maybe, but I think it could very well be that he really doesn’t know the answers.”

  “I would venture to say that, by age five, most people know both their names and their age.”

  Knowing the duke was right, she remained quiet.

  “I had wondered how forthcoming he would be about himself. How is his health?”

  “Better, but far from well.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out about him. I brought my carriage this time so I could take him back to London with me.”

  Loretta smiled. “Yes, I heard about your fancy carriage. Mrs. Huddleston was quite taken with it. And your horses, too.”

  The duke shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. Apparently he didn’t like being teased about the elaborate workmanship of his conveyance. Getting the best of him, no matter if it was in such a small way, made her feel good.

  “However, I’m afraid that taking Farley back with you is impossible, Your Grace. His fever only broke just yesterday and his cough is frequent and unmerciful. He hasn’t even been out of the bed yet. He is not well enough to travel. I would have you see for yourself, but he just took a tonic to help him sleep.”

  “All right, if you think it’s best for him to stay a little longer. I had asked about him when I stopped in Grimsfield last week to make arrangements to have your horse returned. It’s a fairly small village, and I thought perhaps someone there might have heard of a missing boy. No one had. And almost everyone I talked to agreed that it wasn’t common to have children living on the streets or in the countryside. There’s always someone willing to take in an orphaned child.”

  She nodded. “I had asked the apothecary about that as well, and received much the same answer as you. He said Grimsfield is filled with goodhearted people and they would never leave a young boy to fend on the streets for himself.”

  “I see by your expression and hear in your voice that you still have great concern for him.”

  “It’s only natural,” she answered, having no reason to deny his observation. “He’s still basically helpless.”

  “I think it may be more than that.”

  She quirked her head. “What do you mean? He was lost, ill, and uncared for. What could there be other than benevolence from me?”

  His eyes searched hers, as they often did. “Kinship. Maybe you feel that because you have both been left alone, you have something in common.”

  No, she would not let the duke wake all those feelings of being abandoned. She’d had a short cry with Farley earlier and that was all the sympathy she’d allow herself. She’d worked too hard to overcome her pain, rejection, and loneliness. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t accomplished overnight, but she had buried them and moved on.

  “How can you say that when I have Paxton? And it looks as if he didn’t have refreshments brought in for you after your long journey. May I offer you a drink? Tea or brandy before you go?”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me again, Miss Quick?”

  “If you’ll remember our conversation when you were last here, I thought it best that you not return at all.”

  “Ah, yes. How could I forget? But you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.” His gaze swept down her face and then lingered on her eyes. “Perhaps I didn’t make that clear earlier when I kissed you. I’m thinking I should do it again.”

  Hearing her brother approaching, Loretta whirled away from the duke.

  “Here we are, Your Grace,” Paxton said, entering the room. “The packaging itself on this one looks good enough to eat. Another beautiful yellow ribbon tied around it.” He extended it toward the duke and then pulled it back and said, “Or should I just hand it to Loretta for you? I mean, you did say it was for her—but no, you really should. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Yes, Mr. Quick,” the duke answered calmly. “It’s fine for you to just give the box to her. And I think you’ll be happy to know I’ve talked her into accompanying you to Hawksthorn. Hopefully next week.”

  Paxton’s gaze immediately cut to his sister. “That’s wonderful, Your Grace, but I don’t know if she will be able to make it.”

  “I realize I must get your uncle’s permission, but I don’t foresee a problem with that. The earl and I have met on several occasions. I’ll be back in touch with you after I’ve spoken to him. I trust you’ll keep all this to yourself.”

  “You can be sure of that,” Paxton answered.

  “And I can count on you to see that Miss Quick is packed and on the carriage with you b
efore it leaves, yes?”

  Paxton put his arm around Loretta’s shoulder and hugged her close to his side. “Absolutely, Your Grace. I’ll see to it that she’s with me.”

  Chapter 12

  There may be times when a man is desperate to gain a lady’s attention, but a gentleman would never resort to desperate measures to obtain it.

  A PROPER GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO WOOING THE PERFECT LADY

  SIR VINCENT TYBALT VALENTINE

  Hawk paced in front of the fireplace, before the window, and alongside the settee. And then paced some more.

  Being the son of a duke had afforded him many advantages when he was growing up, and now that he was the duke, even more. He wasn’t used to waiting for people. They waited for him.

  Yet in all fairness, Hawk had tried to temper his impatience as best he could. Whether or not he saw Miss Quick again anytime soon depended on this meeting, and the longer he went without seeing her, the more he wanted to see her again. Her kisses had left him with a hunger that he hadn’t been able to satisfy—and he’d tried.

  He’d arrived at the Earl of Switchingham’s home unannounced and early enough in the afternoon that no one else would dare consider paying a call to an earl. But even if the earl had to change his neckcloth, vest, and all the rest of his clothing thrice before greeting Hawk, it shouldn’t have taken over an hour for the earl’s valet to put him together. Still, Hawk didn’t know the man well. Perhaps he’d studied how to tie a neckcloth under the tutelage of Beau Brummell, who reportedly took hours to dress each day, sometimes tying as many as thirty neckcloths before he concluded he was fit to be seen.

  Along with the pacing, Hawk kept himself busy by stirring the dying fire from time to time, studying all the paintings and figurines in the room, and watching the hands on a large ornate clock that was perched atop a slender stone column crowned with a Tuscan capital. He’d never had reason to study a room more.

  Hawk huffed, swore, hummed, and had even caught himself whistling once or twice. He’d had time to memorize every item in the entire room except for maybe a miniature of an afternoon in the park that had been painted on an elephant tusk. He hoped the damned thing had been found on a dried-up, long-dead carcass and not one shot just for the precious ivory, but he had his doubts that was true.