by Olivia Kelly
"Would you mind finding me a plum? I adore plums."
"At your service, Miss Ellis. A plum, it is," he replied, with a short, very correct bow and strode off in the direction of the buffet tables set up in the adjoining room. Audrey sighed with relief and looked around.
The duke was nowhere to be seen.
She frowned and stood up, her heel catching on the hem of her dress. Ignoring the snigger from Beatrice as the girl whispered to a friend from behind her fan, Audrey smoothed her dress and walked to the terrace doors. Perhaps Halford was outside. She took a few steps across the bricks and peered out on the lawn, where several hearty souls still wandered, determined to enjoy the garden despite the heat.
Will was not one of them, however. Wherever had he gone?
"For shame, Miss Ellis. You are indeed as devious as you had claimed."
The soft accusation came from behind her. As a shiver worked its way down her spine, Audrey slowly pivoted to find Halford leaning on the doorframe directly behind her, his shoulder propped against wood.
"I have no idea what you mean," she replied, deciding that she was speaking to him again, after all. One conversation could not sway her resolve. How else would she find out what had prompted such a strange entrance?
The corners of his eyes crinkling in an already familiar way that made her heart ache, just a little. "Do you not? A plum, my dear? They don’t come into season for at least another month."
"That should keep him rather busy then, don’t you think?" she asked crisply. He chuckled and shook his head, his gaze never leaving her. They stood for a moment in silence, studying each other. Audrey glanced away first, not knowing how to fill the gap between them.
"It’s good to see you," he murmured.
It was good to see him also; perhaps too good.
When she didn’t reply, Will’s mouth tightened and he straightened from the doorframe. He held out his arm and she regarded it for a moment, before placing her fingers on his sleeve. Covering her hand, he led her down into the garden. They strolled for several minutes in silence, until they had moved into a little used portion of the garden.
Her fingers slipped from his arm and he stopped, turning to face her. "I never meant to upset you, Audrey. I cannot apologize enough."
"I told you I don’t want your apology." She strove to keep her voice even, her gaze fixed over his shoulder. Lord, would it never end? Did he regret their kiss that much?
"I know." The regret and yearning in his voice drew her eyes inexorably to his, where the rich, warm brown of his irises captured and held her enthralled. "I am not apologizing for the kiss any longer. It’s for being such an ass about the kiss that I am apologizing now."
A little frisson of shock went through her at his words and the sincerity in his expression. Audrey studied him a moment, then a tug of reluctant amusement lifted one corner of her mouth. "So, what you are saying is, you are apologizing for the apology?"
Will opened his mouth, closed it again.
"Yes." He paused a moment. "I believe that covers it."
Audrey snorted. "You’re cracked in the head, do you know that?"
A look of relief flashed across his face and he grinned at her.
"And we’re right where we left off," he said, teasing. "Whew! I was beginning to think I might have to beg."
"So was I." Her answer might have been droll, but her insides enacting a frenzied little dance. The flowers were more than an effort to smooth over the incident in the gazebo. They was a genuine attempt to winnow his way back into her good graces because he had realized he had made a mistake, but it wasn’t the kiss.
Audrey's happiness at the thought was treacherous and she could feel her resolve crack, just a bit.
With a quick glance around at their empty portion of the garden, Will stepped forward and pulled her to him. She came into his arms readily, wallowing in the delicious feeling of his arms around her. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.
"Mmm," he murmured against her mouth. "You taste like sugar and lemons."
Audrey sighed and slid her fingers through his hair, tugging him closer. It was astounding how much she ached for a man she hadn't even known a few weeks ago. She was quite sure she was going to die if he didn’t kiss her again the way he had in her parents’ garden.
"You talk too much."
He laughed at her muttered comment and ran his hands up her back. Deft fingers caressed her shoulder blades, trailing down again to span her waist. Slowly he slid his hands over her belly, inching up her ribcage until they rested just underneath her breasts. Her breath caught but he gave her no quarter, lips moving against hers with a relentless purpose.
He tasted her mouth with a slow, through purpose, lazy in his exploration. Despite her lack of experience, Audrey tried to match him, boldly tangling her tongue with his as they stood wrapped around each other, pressed close enough a slip of paper wouldn’t have fit between them. Will groaned and his thumbs swept up, caressing the soft underside of her breasts, causing her nipples to tighten almost painfully. They ached with the need to feel the weight of his palm. She leaned into him, silently begging him to touch her. If he didn’t touch her, she would go mad.
He moved his hands up and closed them over her breasts, rubbing his palms over her nipples. The relief was almost as profound as the pleasure that swept her. He swallowed the sound of her desire, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, his mouth sealed on hers. The way his chest, his hips, his body felt against her was unlike anything she had experienced.
It was freedom and joy and everything she had always wanted but had been afraid to reach for. Well, she was reaching for it now, and holding on with both hands.
With a groan, he ripped himself away, halting about a yard from her.
"Holy hell, you’re killing me, Audrey," he growled, the evidence of his desire straining against his trousers in the most fascinating way. She nibbled her lip, knowing she was an irredeemable wanton for thrilling at the knowledge she affected him in such a manner.
"I would apologize, but I cannot find it within me to repent," she said, a smug smile spreading across her face. She folded her arms over her sensitive breasts and shivered. A tortured look flitted over Will’s face and she laughed.
He was so adorable, standing there all rumpled and mussed, and frustrated. Wanting her. It was a heady feeling. A wry smile twisted his lips and he shook his head, yanking his waistcoat straight and running his fingers through the chestnut waves of his disheveled hair.
"I’ve never met anyone like you." At her skeptical expression, he shook his head, exasperation written across his face. "It is the truth. You don’t bow and scrape. There is no care for my consequence, no quarter given because I am a duke. I rather like it."
"That is a sad statement, Your Grace. Surely there are others who see you as a man, not a title," she teased, uncomfortable with the sharp glance he had given her, as if he could see past her barriers to the uncertain, wary girl beneath. She was not proud of her insecurities and wished to keep them to herself. The vicious, sly teasing of her contemporaries this past season had taught her wariness.
Stepping forward, Will took her hands in his and brought them to his lips, where he pressed his mouth against her knuckles. The sensation of his lips against her fingers caused the air to leave her lungs, and she held her breath at the serious look in his eye.
"There is only you, Audrey. I can see that, though we've known each other but a handful of days."
A bee buzzed by in the lazy sunshine, the breeze whispered through the willows and the sounds of the garden party drifted through the branches, but Audrey could only see Will.
Captivated by the elusive wink of his dimple.
Captured by the soft movement of his mouth, and the hot look in his eyes.
"I have not had so much fun in years as I do with you, and you will keep me humble." Audrey forced a shaky laugh at his words, but the moment was too intense for levity. His intense gaze ensnared her. "I k
now it may seem impulsive, but believe me when I say I've put much thought into this. We are meant to be together."
Audrey didn’t know what to say. He was everything she could ever ask for, and yet…
She wanted that quiet life in the country filled with mundane activities, and children, and a husband who was there every day. Not one of the highest peers of the realm, who must travel and spend many months in London during Parliament. An important man, whose wife would be expected to entertain well and with elegance. Audrey wasn’t the type of woman who became a duchess. Her interest lay more in books, gardening and village life than entertaining the haut ton. Just the idea of it gave her the shivers.
"I’m not…I don’t know."
Will's smile faded a little at her stumbling words.
It was obvious he had not been expecting that sort of an answer. She liked and desired Will, and perhaps, just perhaps, the beginnings of love were unfurling within her wary heart, but if she married him everything she had dreamt of would slip through her grasp like water.
"I don't understand. I thought you wanted to be with me." He dropped her hands and she smothered the urge to protest. "Was I wrong?"
"No. No, you were not, and yet..." At his obvious confusion, she shook her head in despair. How could she explain it to him, when she wasn't sure of herself? What a muddle.
"I like you very much, Will. You are intelligent and interesting, and diverting and handsome and wonderful, but—"
"It’s not me, it’s you?" He narrowed his eyes.
"Oh, no. It’s you." He looked affronted at her statement and she rushed to explain. "I mean, it’s your title. The dukedom."
"That’s the first time I’ve ever heard of my being a duke actually being seen as a drawback."
"I’m not explaining it well." She sighed. Will’s expression had stiffened and he paced away, just beyond her grasp. Audrey knew she shouldn’t feel hurt by his defensive gesture, but she did. Couldn’t he understand this was difficult for her?
Audrey lifted her chin a little, embarrassed at having to put her insecurities on display, and met his gaze. "I'm too tall. I'm not graceful in the least. I trip over my own feet with alarming regularity. I have a devil of a temper."
Will opened his mouth, but she ignored him and pushed on, waving her hands as she spoke to illustrate her point. "I don't enjoy mindlessly chattering on about fashion or wondering what Prinny will get up to next. I’m too sarcastic by half and I don't enjoy Town."
Will was studying her with an unreadable expression that made her chest tight. "I like that you’re tall, Audrey. I’m tall, or haven’t you noticed?"
"Yes, but—"
"You are not ungraceful. It's only when you're distracted that your feet seem to...get ahead of you a bit." He stepped closer, dark eyes caressing her. "I don’t mind a bit of shouting now and then. It keeps things lively. I couldn’t care less about fashion, and believe it or not, even less than that about Prinny and his escapades. I will say this—a woman with a quick wit, and a quicker tongue, fascinates me."
Audrey felt her cheeks heat at his sly statement, and despite the situation, she wanted to laugh. It was a wonder that he could always keep her so off balance.
"You, sir, have a dirty mind."
"Yes, I do."
Now she did laugh, startled by the boyish grin he sent her. His eyes crinkled at the edges and he took those few steps back to her.
"I like you just the way you are, Audrey. I am not asking you to change. I don’t want you to change." His arm slipped round her waist, and the heat of his body infused her, chasing the chill of uncertainty away. "Do you think you might be able to place your trust in me? Because I think we could be very—"
He lowered his head and nipped her lip. "—very good together."
She couldn’t think when his mouth was on hers.
"Mmm."
He drew back slightly. "Is that a yes? Will you at least consider giving us a chance, then?"
Faith sometimes required a leap. What Will represented frightened her, the way he lived, what being his duchess would entail. But the idea of a life bereft of him left an empty ache in her chest.
"Yes."
"Yes, you will consider it?"
"Yes, I promise to think on it." Audrey smiled at him, unable to do otherwise. She owed it to herself, and to him, to reconsider her plans. If she had a chance at love, she would be a fool to walk away from it.
Blowing out a breath, Will grinned at her. "Then I shall see you tonight, at the masquerade.
Chapter Eight
Will stepped out of Claremont House and paused to regroup.
He just stood for a moment on the top step, trying to absorb the fact that he had almost blurted out a marriage proposal to Audrey as if he were offering take her for a carriage drive. While he may not have had legions of lovers, he had hoped that he was experienced enough to be smoother than that.
Apparently not.
No wonder she needed time to consider his suit. When it came time to formally propose, he would do better. Wincing, Will rubbed the back of his neck as he descended the steps to his curricle. He resolutely turned his mind from Audrey to consider a more immediate problem as he climbed into the vehicle.
He had waited an hour and a quarter at the east entrance to Hyde Park that morning, but Claremont had not shown.
Will cursed himself for imagining that the viscount would be man enough to stick to his word. But what did Claremont hope to achieve by holding onto the letters now? He would never get any money for them, and couldn’t show his face in polite society while Will was still hunting him. Will had come to the dowager countess’s home, thinking perhaps the man was stupid enough, or arrogant enough, to show at his mother’s garden party.
Claremont had not shown, but Audrey was there, and Will had allowed himself to become distracted. Although he hadn't acquired the letters, he couldn't count the afternoon as wasted time. Not when he had secured Audrey's word that she would consider his courtship.
It did puzzle Will that the viscount should resort to blackmail in the first place, though. Claremont House was in fine shape. The furnishings of high quality and everything looking exactly as it should in the home of a wealthy English aristocrat. It made no sense that he should chose to blackmail Lisle, whose yearly allowance was generous, but not outrageous. What the viscount could have milked from her should be a pittance compared to his own income.
And his sister was not the type to do anything that was blackmail worthy. Other than having exceptionally bad taste in lovers, that is.
It was more likely that Lisle had been the one to break things off with Claremont, who obviously had not taken it well. His attempt to squeeze her for funds must be in revenge for his bruised pride. Still, Will couldn’t shake the niggling though that he had been misled. Lisle's story had always seemed a little shaky, but he had assumed that she just didn't want to share any delicate details with her younger brother. But the effort Claremont was putting into ducking him had all his instincts pricking. There was more to this mess then a parcel of lovelorn missives.
Whatever the case, Will wanted those letters back.
If Lisle's story was true, well, she shouldn’t have to worry about her private affairs being aired to the whole of society, and Will shouldn’t have to worry about what such a scandal would do to his mother…and his marital prospects. When he had come up to Town, he had had no intentions of looking for a bride but then he met Audrey. Everything had changed. He still wasn’t interested in marriage for marriage’s sake—but the prospect of settling down was infinitely more appealing when he thought of a certain cheeky debutante.
Will was a little stunned at how quickly she became the only one he could see filling the role of his duchess.
It was a sticky situation, however. He had no intention of sending Lisle from the family home or doing anything to distance himself from his beloved sister. If there was a scandal it would touch everyone connected to Halford House. For some families,
even the lure of marrying their daughter to a duke would not offset the humiliation and censure they would be forced to endure if their name was linked to such a predicament.
He did not think Lord and Lady Witte were such a couple, given the lengths the baroness had gone through to secure his interest in her daughter, but one could never be too cautious.
Still turning over the problem in his mind, Will drew up to Halford House and tossed the reins to the footman who stepped to the curb. He trotted up the stairs, nodding to his butler as he entered. Handing the man his hat, Will ran his hand through his hair, grimacing at how sweat had matted it to his skull.
"It’s brutal out there, McCullen. This heat’s damn irritating, makes the dirt from the road stick to everything," he said, patting his face with the cloth the butler handed him.
The toweling was grey with dust from the street, and soot from the air, when he finished but there was no time for a full bath at the moment. He had correspondence to catch up on and his estate manager would have arrived by now. The man had travelled far with the reports from four out of seven of his holdings, all which would require his attention before he could bathe for dinner. He started for the stairs, but paused as McCullen discreetly cleared his throat.
Will glanced over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow in inquiry. "Is there something?"
"Yes, Your Grace. Lady Morgan is here. She is waiting for you in the blue drawing room," the butler said, tipping his head slightly toward the south corridor.
"My sister is here? In London?" Will frowned, rubbing his hand over his jaw absently. He needed a shave before he left for the evening.
"So it seems, Your Grace."
What the devil? Perhaps she felt her scolding letter hadn’t done a well enough job and had come to finish her tongue lashing in person. That would be pleasant.