How to Marry a Duke

by Vicky Dreiling

  “Do not twist my words. You know very well I had an impossible choice, but I chose to do the honorable thing by you.”

  “Do you even know how hypocritical you sound with all your talk of honor? You are by your own admission an unrepentant rake.”

  He inhaled. “That’s a foul hit, and you know it. I told you the first day I called on you that I’ll not apologize for my past liaisons. I swore to you I would remain faithful to my wife, and that is all that matters.”

  “You swore never to dishonor me again, and you broke that promise. How am I to know you won’t break your marriage vows?”

  He glared at her. “Another foul hit. You admitted you were a willing participant. And you know you’re the only woman I’ve touched since the day I met you.”

  “So I don’t count?” she said, lifting her brows.

  “Damn you,” he said. “I walked through hell the night after I compromised you. You know I worried about the girls and their families. But all I could think about was how your uncle would feel if he knew I’d dishonored you and walked away. I made you an honorable proposal, and you refused.”

  “You did not even ask me. You just assumed I would agree.” She gave him a bitter smile. “I suppose you believed it was a good offer for a spinster like me.”

  He took her by the shoulders. “Look me in the eyes and say that again.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to obey his command.

  He yanked the bow under her chin and threw her bonnet on the ground. Then he tipped her chin up. “Look me in the eyes and say it again.”

  She would not surrender to him.

  “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me.”

  She trembled because she could not.

  “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t care about me.”

  She loved him, loved him still, despite their impossible differences.

  “Look me in the eyes and tell me that if every obstacle, every single one, was removed, you would refuse me again.”

  Scoff at him. Divert him. Lie to him. But she could not.

  “You cannot,” he said. He cupped her face with his warm palms and long fingers.

  As he lowered his head, her body responded to him against her will. She arched into him, felt herself yielding as his scent mesmerized her. The warmth of his body and his strong arms lured her to give in. She almost did, but she knew what he’d done. And that was enough to check her, to give her the strength to push away from him. To make her voice sharp.

  “Congratulations, Your Grace. In the game of pride, you have evened the score.”

  He swore as she retrieved her bonnet and walked away.

  She was still shaken by their argument today.

  After dinner that evening, Tessa sat in the drawing room near the duchess, pretending to attend to the conversation. She felt incensed and sorrowful at the same time. He’d hurt her because she’d hurt him, and she wanted to go back in time to when they could match wits and flirt with a little danger. But in the carriage, they had gone too far. The intimacies they’d shared had made it harder, made her vulnerable to wanting and yearning. And now she ached and ached because she’d let herself fall in love with him.

  She wanted him back, wanted all the enchantment, the pretensions, the dancing all around what was between them. If given the chance, she would do it all over again. Because she yearned so badly to be in his arms, touch his hot skin, and shatter apart from the ecstasy he’d shown her. She wanted to hear his hoarse cry when she pleasured him. Wanted to be skin to skin with him, one with him, wanted all of him for her own. And she could never have him.

  The courtship was hurtling to its grand conclusion. Tomorrow the entire party would picnic at the lake, and then, on Saturday, Tristan would speak to both fathers. He would make his final choice, and she was powerless to persuade him to wait for love.

  Today, he’d asked her if all the obstacles were removed, would she still say no. She ought to have lied, but she could not. For years, she’d used half truths and omissions to keep her ugly secrets safe. Anything to keep from lying outright, because she was ashamed of the lies she’d told her poor, grieving uncle. Tristan had not given her the opportunity to evade him, but afterward, she’d wanted to kick herself. She could have left sooner, but she’d been so furious with him she’d walked right into his trap. And now he knew the truth about her feelings for him.

  She wondered if somewhere deep inside she’d wanted him to know. How could she be so stupid? Why did her heart still race every time she caught a glimpse of him? What had happened to her pride? She’d ceded everything to him today.

  Even though he’d infuriated her, even though there was no chance of reconciling her friendship with him, no chance she could ever be his wife, she still wanted his happiness with all her heart. But she was powerless to stop him from making a mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  She knew more than a little about regret.

  Tristan would never experience the love he deserved, the love she knew in her soul he was capable of giving and receiving. She’d silently given her heart to him, but her unrequited love could not breach his heart. He was determined to marry for duty, and perhaps she ought to have realized it was his decision, not hers. After all, she’d balked when he and his mother had tried to convince her to marry.

  Mr. Hardwick’s hearty laughter rang out. He sat at the card table with Amy, Julianne, and Hawk playing whist. Across the room, Tristan sat on the window seat with Georgette. The girl talked continuously and twirled her curl. Then she touched Tristan’s sleeve. Pain flared in Tessa’s heart, and she averted her gaze. She’d watched the girl the past two days, ready to pounce on the slightest evidence Georgette was playing Julianne false to gain advantage with Tristan. But thus far, Georgette had displayed affection for both Julianne and Amy. Last night, Tessa had heard the three of them giggling in the next room for hours.

  Georgette’s sweet laugh invaded Tessa’s thoughts. Unable to help herself, she stole another glance at the girl. This time, she noticed Tristan’s thumb tapping on his thigh. She knew that gesture meant he was either impatient or perturbed. He sat silent, but how could he manage a word when Georgette chattered like a magpie? Tessa silently rejoiced because he wasn’t taken with the girl most likely.

  Shame followed on the heels of her spiteful thoughts. She started to turn away, but Tristan gazed at her with that intent expression she knew so well. She caught her breath, unable to look away. Despite everything he mesmerized her.

  Georgette tapped her fan on his forearm and laughed again. A momentary, irritated expression filled his eyes, and then it was as if the ducal mask fell over his face. He rose with Georgette and escorted the girl over to her parents. Then he took a stance in front of the hearth.

  “Miss Mansfield,” the duchess said. “You will entertain us by playing the pianoforte.”

  Tessa preferred not to call attention to herself. “Perhaps the young ladies should exhibit.”

  The duchess drew her quizzing glass to her eye. “You are young and a lady. Therefore, you qualify.”

  Lady Boswood regarded Tessa with a speaking look. “How generous of you to defer to one of the girls. But of course you wish to encourage them since they are courting the duke.”

  Tessa heard the unspoken words: And you are a spinster who should know her place.

  “Do play, Miss Mansfield,” Mrs. Hardwick said. “Lady Julianne says you are quite accomplished.”

  Tessa kept her gaze upon Lady Boswood. “But I have many empty hours in which to practice.” She enjoyed the stunned look on the woman’s face, a confirmation perhaps that Lady Boswood had thought exactly the same thing.

  “Gel, you remind me to add your talent at the pianoforte as yet another of your many accomplishments,” the duchess said. Then she proceeded to inform Lady Boswood of every achievement she’d enumerated at breakfast yesterday.

  By now the entire party had gathered round to listen. Warmth crept
into Tessa’s cheeks. Of course she appreciated the duchess’s regard, but truthfully, Amy and Georgette deserved the attention.

  “Is it any wonder Miss Mansfield is so particular that she has yet to find a husband?” the duchess concluded.

  Stars above. Tessa cast a sideways glance at Tristan. He looked momentarily amused, and then, as if he was remembering what had transpired today, his smile faded.

  “Goodness,” Amy said. “Miss Mansfield, do you sleep?”

  Everyone laughed, to Tessa’s relief. Determined to turn the topic away from herself, she glanced at Georgette. “Will you play for us? We missed hearing you at Ashdown House.”

  The minute she uttered the words, Lady Boswood’s nostrils flared. Clearly Lady Boswood was sensitive about Georgette’s illness at that rainy courtship session. To be fair, no proud mother would wish to see her daughter humiliated.

  “Oh, I could not play,” Georgette said. “My limited talents would seem poor indeed compared to Miss Mansfield’s.”

  “Miss Mansfield, everyone has prevailed upon you to play,” the duchess said. “Tristan, you will turn the pages for her.”

  Tessa winced. How could she endure being near him after all the harsh words they’d spoken today? But she’d learned the hard way at the opera that refusing only raised suspicion. So she rose and took Tristan’s arm. Awareness of his strength brought back the memory of his protective arm round her shoulders in the carriage.

  She missed those times when they could be at ease with each other, but for every easy time, there had been plenty of difficult ones. If she’d kept a more professional demeanor, she could have avoided hurting herself and him. But she’d wanted to touch his shining star and use it to advance her career. She’d not known her vow to open his heart would only break her own.

  Upon reaching the instrument, he pulled out the sheet music from the bench and riffled through it. Then he set the sheets on the stand. Tessa swallowed hard. It was Pachelbel’s Canon, the same music she’d played at Ashdown House.

  Did he mean to communicate a silent message? The idea twined round her heart, but she must resist. Because she could not forget he would marry another. So she sat upon the bench and poised her nerveless fingers over the smooth keys.

  The duchess approached and bent her head near Tessa’s ear. “You will forgive me for embarrassing you earlier,” she said.

  “I appreciate your esteem, Duchess, but I fear Lady Boswood does not,” she said.

  “I’ve known her since we made our come-outs the same year,” the duchess said. “She is one of those vain, aging beauties who spend their entire lives competing with other women. She goaded you because she knows you have my son’s ear and fears you.”

  Tessa scoffed. “I doubt it.”

  The duchess looked at her. “You’ve no idea of the power you’ve wielded in this courtship, do you? Why do you think all those jealous cats gossiped about you? Because you alone had influence over my son. They feared you could make or break their daughters’ chances.”

  Tessa glanced at Tristan. He looked away, but she suspected he was listening. “They overestimate my powers of persuasion and most certainly underestimate your son.”

  She knew he’d heard when he lifted his chin, all haughty, proud duke.

  The duchess laughed softly and looked at her son. “Gel, a clever woman knows how to wrap a man round her little finger.”

  Tristan tapped his fingers on the top of the instrument. “Are we here to gossip or listen to Miss Mansfield play?”

  “Tristan,” his mother said. “May I have a private word with you? Miss Mansfield, practice your scales in the meantime.”

  Tessa obliged and bit back a smile. The duchess apparently ordered everyone around. Tristan must have learned the tendency from her.

  After a few moments, she looked over her shoulder to find the duchess still speaking to Tristan. Good heavens. The duchess was probably picking out a husband for her. Tessa shrugged. It wasn’t as if the woman could marry her off in two days.

  When Tristan returned, he leaned over her shoulder and straightened the pages of the music. “My mother insisted I meet with you in my study tomorrow to discuss potential husbands,” he said in a low, velvety voice.

  She shivered as his breath stirred the curl by her ear.

  “We will use the opportunity to discuss my courtship,” he said.

  She nodded, placed her fingers on the keys, and tried to focus on the music. He meant to tell her his choice in advance. Georgette. The thought tripped her, and she played a discordant note.

  He turned the page. “Do I make you nervous?”

  “No.” You make me burn.

  She depressed the keys again, determined to live up to the duchess’s praise. The haunting melody reminded her of the rainy night at Ashdown House. Reminded her of the ugly gown she’d worn and Tristan’s hungry kisses, kisses that had made her feel beautiful and wanted. Each time he turned the pages, she breathed in his faint, masculine scent. She imagined him sliding onto the bench, bending her backward, and kissing her. Running his tongue along her lips and tasting her. She wanted to touch his hot skin and hear him make that rough sound in the back of his throat again. Most of all, she yearned for the girlish dream, the one where he knelt and declared he loved her beyond all reason. But there would never be a fairy tale wedding for her.

  When she played the last notes, applause followed. She exhaled in relief and then turned to him. “Have you made your decision?” she whispered.

  “We will talk tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow she must listen to him speak another woman’s name. A girl’s name. The girl most likely would be his duchess.

  And after Saturday, Tessa would never see him again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tessa awoke to a knock on her door late Thursday night. Disoriented, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. It took her a moment to realize she was not at home in her own bed.

  The knock sounded again. Through the wall, she heard a hoarse sound. With only the dying coals in the fire to guide her, she struggled to find her wrapper. While slipping her arms into the garment, she padded across the cool carpet and cracked open the door.

  Julianne stood there, the light of her candle showing she wore nightclothes. “Miss Mansfield, will you come to Georgette’s room? She is ill.”

  Tessa frowned. “Is Amy there?”

  Julianne nodded. “Georgette is feeling bilious.”

  “Why did you not alert her mother?”

  “Georgette begged me not to send for her.” Julianne looked shaken. “I will explain later, but please will you help her?”

  “Yes, of course.” She followed Julianne next door. Once inside, she found Georgette on the bed’s edge, heaving over an empty chamber pot. Amy sat beside her, rubbing her back.

  “She has barely eaten today,” Amy said.

  “Julianne, light another candle, please,” Tessa said. “Georgette, why have you not eaten?”

  The girl heaved again.

  “N-nerves,” Amy said.

  “You are nervous, too?” Tessa asked.

  “Yes, but I am not ill.”

  Julianne used her taper to light another candle. “Do not worry, Georgette. Miss Mansfield also suffers from a nervous disposition.”

  Tessa glanced at Julianne. “Come help me find water and a cloth.”

  Julianne led her over to the washstand and found a cloth. Tessa poured water from the ewer into the bowl. After wringing out the cloth, Tessa managed to coax Georgette to lie down and put the cool cloth on her forehead.

  “Miss Mansfield,” Amy said. “May I stay with her tonight?”

  “You do not need my permission, Amy. Stay if it makes both of you less anxious.”

  “Thank you,” Georgette whispered. The two girls settled under the covers. “I’m glad you’re here, Amy.”

  “Julianne, bring your candle,” Tessa said. “I wish to speak to you privately.”

  Once outside in the dark corridor, Tessa closed
the door and faced Julianne. “Can you tell me what troubles them?” She suspected it concerned the courtship, but she was not sure what exactly bothered them and did not want to make assumptions.

  Julianne fingered her long, jet braid. “They tell me they are nervous about the courtship, but they say very little because he is my brother. I cannot be neutral where he is concerned. But they are my friends, and I worry about them.”

  “Can they not speak to their mothers?” Tessa asked.

  “Their parents are so excited. They don’t want to disappoint them.”

  Chill bumps erupted on Tessa’s arms. Were their parents pressuring them? She’d heard many stories of parents who forced their daughters into marriages.

  “Miss Mansfield,” Julianne said. “You are the only one among us who can be impartial.”

  Tessa winced. Up to now, she had not been impartial. She’d favored one girl and made negative assumptions about the other. But she could help them now, and in doing so, she hoped to help Tristan indirectly. “I will speak to them.”

  Julianne let out a shaky sigh. “Thank you. I hoped you would make such an offer.” She paused and added, “It is hard for me, too. I love my brother, but I love them as well.” She wiped her finger under her eye. “One of them will be my sister, and the other will not. I do not envy Tristan this choice. They are both wonderful girls.”

  Tessa’s heart turned over. “My uncle used to tell me things happen for a reason. It will all work out in time.”

  After Julianne had padded down the corridor, Tessa entered the bedchamber. The covers rustled. In the light of the candle, she saw the girls holding hands on top of the covers. Her heart turned over.

  She sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you better, Georgette?”

  “My stomach is better,” she said. “But we are both anxious.”

  “Anyone would be in your situation.” Tessa took a deep breath. “Julianne asked me to speak to both of you. She feels I can be objective.”

  “You are kind,” Amy said.

  “You do not have to share confidences with me,” Tessa said. “But if you decide to do so, I want you to know I will never tell another soul.”