“Did you like the cookies?”
Duke turned and found Mr. Walker standing there. Had Walker seen Duke ogling Rose? “They are superb.” He glanced at the cookie in his hand. “I must admit, after seeing what went into the oven, I would not have guessed they’d be this perfect.”
“Rose is a wonder. She never ceases to surprise me.”
Duke recalled Walker’s passionate embrace with a maid earlier. For a man who held his wife in such high esteem, his actions certainly were baffling. He studied Walker’s face. “Have you known each other long?”
“Nearly all our lives. We’ve always been best friends.”
That was an odd way for an unfaithful husband to describe his wife. Though perhaps this was a hint that the two were more friends than lovers. “There is something oddly sweet to two best friends getting married.”
Walker leaned in, his gaze narrowed intently. “Yes, it is sweet. She has always looked out for me and I always look out for her. Always.”
“I get the feeling you are attempting to tell me something.”
“You’re rumored to be a smart man and an excellent journalist. I am certain you will figure it out.”
Duke crossed his arms over his chest. “Then I think it’s best I warn you as well. I watch out for my employees. Everyone at Havermeyer Publishing, from the mailroom clerks to the top editors. If I think they are in danger or at risk of being hurt, I will step in.”
Walker appeared confused by this, his brows dipping together. “You are worried I will hurt Rose?”
“If certain things came to light, yes.”
“Certain things?”
“I know what you are up to, Walker.”
The other man blinked a few times, then his expression cleared. “Oh, so you know about the…?” He gestured toward the kitchen stairs, where Duke had witnessed the earlier embrace.
Duke nodded once. “Indeed.”
Instead of appalled, Walker had the audacity to appear cheerful. “What a relief. The subterfuge is damn exhausting.”
“But necessary,” he snapped. “My God, man. You have a houseful of guests.”
“I know that. The entire thing was Rose’s idea. You cannot blame me.”
Ah, so it was as Duke had suspected: Rose and her husband had an understanding. This was not so uncommon in marriages of the higher classes. Duke’s own father had hardly bothered to hide the existence of his mistresses over the years. It was the way things were done, but the wife was not normally so accommodating. “She’s quite novel, your wife.”
“That is a polite way of putting it. I am surprised she told you, though. We had planned to keep it a secret.”
“Yes, well. I’ve been around reporters too long, I suppose. Always searching for the truth.”
Walker chuckled. “We had not considered that. I hope you won’t hold it against her. She loves writing for your papers.”
“Why on earth would I hold it against her?”
“Some men are petty that way. At least now I needn’t play the jealous husband any longer.”
God, this man was revolting. “I suppose that happens often?”
“Come on.” Walker elbowed Duke’s arm. “I saw the way you were staring at her tonight. Now you know I won’t stand in your way.”
Duke’s jaw dropped, his body tightening in shock. Was Walker so eager to be cuckolded, then?
“You two are awfully tense.” Rose appeared, her head turning between Duke and her husband. “Anything the matter?”
“Nothing whatsoever,” Walker said. “Just clearing the air a bit. Havermeyer, glad we had this chat. If you will excuse me, I’ll visit with our other guests.”
Walker strolled away and Duke resisted the urge to follow—and subsequently pummel—him. Though he longed to seduce Rose into an affair, she deserved better than a husband who clearly cared little for her. “Interesting man, your husband.”
“Yes, he is,” she said with a fond smile in Walker’s direction. “Were the two of you arguing?”
“No, merely coming to an understanding.” An understanding in which Duke was free to pursue Rose Walker. The full implication began to sink in, a rush of excitement flooding his veins. She was here, standing before him, and there was no reason not to make his feelings known. “About you.”
“Me?” Her brows shot up. “Why would you need to come to understanding about me?”
As was his style, he decided to be direct. No tiptoeing around an issue. “Because he knows I have developed an interest in you.”
“As one of your valued employees.”
“No. This interest has nothing to do with your ability to craft a pithy column. A personal interest in you, Mrs. Rose Walker.”
The idea settled and color spotted her cheekbones. “I—I am sorry. You…what?”
“I want to spend time with you. Privately. Originally, it seemed a terrible idea because of your employment at my newspaper, but I’ve come to think we can handle the situation like two consenting adults.”
“But…” She cast a glance over her shoulder at the rest of the guests, possibly confirming they were truly alone. When she turned, she licked her lips. “No. This is impossible.”
“I realize my timing is poor, as we’re still in the midst of this gathering, but I believe in stating my intentions up front. That way, no one may claim to be surprised later on.”
“Have I a say in this?” she snapped.
“Of course.” He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets to keep from touching her. “But you should know that once I decide on a course of action, I never change my mind.”
“Nice for you, but no. Whatever you are suggesting is a bad idea for many reasons.”
“Such as?”
“You are my employer, for one. I do not wish to risk my position, considering you are the one with all the power.”
“I give you my word that I am able to separate the two. Whatever happens between us shall not affect your job.”
“Even if that were acceptable, I’m married and have no plans on being unfaithful to my husband.”
“Are you certain he deserves such loyalty?”
She rocked back on her heels, her head tilting slightly. “Of course. Why would he not?”
He clenched and relaxed his hands several times. He’d muffed this. Badly. “All I ask is that you consider it.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why should I consider anything improper?”
Because I cannot tear my gaze away from you, not for an instant.
Because your smile thaws out a part of my soul.
Because there is a fire in you, a burning energy that I yearn to feel and taste.
He could not share those thoughts, so he said, “Because you will enjoy yourself, I promise.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits. “You overstep, sir—”
“Mrs. Walker,” a voice said behind them. “I wanted to thank you for such a lovely evening.”
Rose led the couple away, but not before throwing an inscrutable glance at him over her shoulder. He watched her go, not deterred in the least. In all her arguments, she had not expressed a lack of interest in him. That was telling. If she’d found him unappealing, he would have immediately backed off. Never pursued anything further.
However, the way she had stared up at him in the kitchen, her clear blue eyes filled with heat and longing, he knew there was interest.
But would she act on it? He could not say, but he damn well wanted to find out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Because you will enjoy yourself, I promise.
The words kept tumbling around in Rose’s head. Had he been serious? As far as Duke knew, she was a married woman.
Perhaps he’d over imbibed tonight. She hadn’t noticed him drinking more than everyone else, but what else could explain his bizarre proposition in the midst of a dinner party?
She quickly said her good-byes to the guests and retreated to the kitchens for some quiet. And
yes, to hide until Duke left.
Bridget was finishing up when Rose arrived. “Is there anything I may do to help?”
“Why aren’t you with the guests?” Bridget asked as she wiped down the work surface.
“I needed a break. I’ll be relieved when this is over. Pretending to be someone you’re not is exhausting.”
“Henry said the same thing earlier,” the maid said with a shake of her head. “I told him it was only one night and to stop complaining.”
“Thank you. For everything, including letting Henry pose as my husband tonight.”
Bridget waved her cloth. “Of course. I’m more than happy to help you. Plus, I promised him a reward if he was a good boy—which always becomes my reward, if you get my meaning.”
Ugh. Rose put her hands over her ears. “Stop. He is like my brother.”
Bridget chuckled. “By the way, the cookies were his idea.”
The cookies. Rose had almost forgotten about them in the wake of Duke’s proposition. “I have never been so relieved in my life. They were positively perfect. However did he manage it?”
“Her daughter’s labor turned out to be false, so Mrs. Riley was still in the Lowes’ kitchen when Henry sent a footman over to sweet-talk someone into making a batch. We never baked your tray and used hers instead.”
How clever. She would need to thank Henry for such quick thinking. “He is not my Duke.”
“My dear, if I had a man staring at me like that big one was staring at you…” Bridget fanned herself. “Lord above, I would claim him before you could blink.”
Rose hadn’t the faintest idea of how to respond. She could not claim him…could she?
“By the way, Mrs. Riley said his recipe made absolutely no sense. She said it sounded more like a curse than a cookie. So she made her own version the way she usually does.”
“Thank goodness.” If the cookies had been terrible, Lord only knew what would have happened. “I must remember to thank her after the holiday. Where is everyone else?”
“I let the others go. I’m just waiting on Henry. I told him he could walk me home.” She waggled her brows as if Rose did not already have an idea of what the two would get up to this evening.
“Is there anything left to do?”
“The glasses are washed and dried, just need to be packed in the trunk. Henry and the other boys will come get them first thing in the morning.” She pointed to a small room off to the side, a larder they had commandeered for storage. Not many parts of the lower level had been clean enough to use tonight.
“I will finish here.” It was the least she could do. Yes, the staff was being paid, but this would have been their night off. “You and Henry go on ahead. I will turn off all the lights and lock up.”
“Oh, he won’t like leaving you alone,” Bridget said. “You should have someone here with you.”
“I will stay with her.”
Rose’s head whipped around at the deep voice and found Duke, large and strikingly handsome in his black evening wear, standing at the bottom of the kitchen stairs. How much had he heard? Her heart began pounding. “Mr. Havermeyer. I thought you had left.” Hoped anyway.
Instead of answering her, he looked at Bridget. “If you will excuse us.”
“Of course, sir.” Bridget quickly curtseyed to them both, eyes twinkling at Rose, and hurried up the servants’ stairs.
Then they were alone.
Rose’s skin tingled, his nearness causing her to perspire. She had to move away from him, focus on something else. “I have a few things remaining to do tonight.” Lifting her skirts, she went toward the larder and the waiting glasses. “We may speak tomorrow.”
Once in the safety of the small room, she pressed a hand to her stomach, exhaling. Goodness, the man was potent. Because you will enjoy yourself, I promise. His words, combined with his presence, were enough to send her swooning.
Rose, get a hold of yourself. He is your employer. He thinks you are married.
If she repeated this enough, perhaps she could avoid making a serious mistake, one that could very well get her fired.
Determined, she set to work. With any luck, Duke had returned upstairs and departed. Glasses awaited on the counter, the open trunk on the floor. She picked up a piece of crystal, wrapped it in brown paper, and tucked it into the trunk.
She reached for another glass when his voice startled her. “Why are you doing this? Where is your staff?”
“I dismissed them for the evening. I offered to pack the glasses.”
He said nothing and she felt his curiosity like a thick cloud in the room. A lady of the house would never come below and help the servants. If he asked her for a good reason, she was not certain what she would say. How many more lies would she need to tell this evening?
Just when she thought he would not speak, he asked, “Why pack them?”
Yes, this was odd, too. In most households the glasses would be stored on a shelf, not packed away in a trunk. “We store these in the attic until we need them.”
He drew closer, his towering frame taking up all the space in the larder. “I’ll help you.”
“That is unnecessary.”
“Of course it is, but I am still planning to do it.”
“You hardly fit in here,” she blurted, her body bumping against the open door to avoid touching him.
He stepped in and swung the door closed. “There. Now the door isn’t in our way. Is that better?”
No, it absolutely was not. Now she was confined with an unattainable man who smelled divine and made her body shiver. “Get to it, then,” she urged, handing him a glass. The sooner they finished, the sooner she could escape.
He took his time wrapping the glass in the paper before placing it in the trunk. “Have you given any thought to what I said earlier?”
“No,” she lied.
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You are a terrible liar.”
Not so terrible, apparently. I was able to fool you tonight. “I’m married. What you are suggesting is impossible.”
“Not when your husband has given his consent.”
She jerked in surprise and the glass wobbled in her hand. She clutched at it, fighting to retain a grip on the crystal before it tumbled to the floor. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. He does not mind. Told me himself. A bit unconventional, yes, but I am able to understand, considering his association with the maid.”
She finished another glass, questions swirling in her mind. How had Duke come to learn of Henry and Bridget’s relationship? Yet he’d referred to Henry as Rose’s husband, so he had not discovered the truth. What had Henry said, exactly? Lord, this deception was aging her faster than an opium habit.
“So you think I will just agree,” she said, placing a glass in the trunk to avoid his intense stare, “because my husband has given you the go-ahead?”
Black dress shoes came into view. When she straightened, he was close, his long frame mere inches away. Her mouth turned dry as her gaze traveled north. Every bit of him was appealing, even the way his rumpled brown hair brushed the scar above his eyebrow. He was not perfect, but her body didn’t care. The warm feeling in the pit of her stomach swept lower, centering in the area between her legs.
The edges of his mouth curled and he placed three fingers under her chin. “No, I think you will agree because of what I see in your eyes right now. The flush on your beautiful skin. The hitch in your breath when I move closer.”
How had he read her so easily? The man’s a journalist at heart, that’s how. Yet she was a writer, soon to be a reporter. Why could she not tell his thoughts as easily? Then she’d have a better chance at resisting him.
As it was, she was having a hard time remembering why kissing him was a terrible idea.
Inhaling, she tried to shake her head despite his gentle grip. “I am not one of those women.…”
He swept an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I know—and that is not why I am here. T
his is not some sort of a game or passing fancy to me. Quite the opposite. You are remarkable, Rose. Unlike any woman I’ve ever met.” He gave a dry chuckle. “In fact, if this were a century or two ago, I might challenge your husband for you.”
Her chest tightened, but she strove to keep the mood light. “Pistols at dawn?”
“Always been partial to swords myself,” he said with a grin, then sobered. “I know you work for me, but I vow on the future of my company that I will treat you fairly, no matter how long this lasts between us.”
“An affair,” she said, just to be clear. “You wish to have an affair. With me.”
“Yes, I do. I want to take you to my bed and pleasure you until we both pass out. Is that direct enough?”
Good lord, I should say so. If he were any more direct, she’d likely swoon.
He’d certainly left no doubt as to his intentions, but this was new to her. She was not a coquette or practiced flirt. Not completely inexperienced, but not experienced, either. What should she do?
She advised her readers never to lie, because untruths always had a way of unraveling and causing damage to others. He’ll hate you if he ever learns of what you have done.
Of course, she’d been lying all night. Why stop now? She should make the most of a situation like this while she still had the chance. This was a fleeting opportunity, not a lifelong commitment. Besides, a man like Duke Havermeyer did not come along every day. She ought to know, as she’d been secretly admiring him for the better part of a year.
Furthermore, when had she ever taken her own advice?
“Please say yes,” he whispered, his other hand coming to rest on her hip. The heat of his palm burned through her clothing, branding her skin, and her nipples beaded painfully behind her corset.
There was so much want and longing bubbling up inside her that rational thought receded. A wild reckless abandon overcame her instead. How long had she fantasized about a situation such as this, where she could actually touch him? Kiss him? She wanted to know what it would be like… No, she needed to know what it would be like. If she refused, something told her she would regret it forever.
All those afternoons spent watching and wanting him…and now he was right here.
How the Dukes Stole Christmas Page 34