The Duke of Kisses

by Darcy Burke

  “Oh, Lord St. Ives, how do you do?” Sarah asked.

  “Well, thank you. I couldn’t resist coming over to greet you.” He looked at her and, more pointedly, at Frances who was unabashed with her interest in his arrival. Indeed, her gaze raked over him, initiating an inconvenient heat in the vicinity of his groin.

  He transferred his attention to the third woman, lest he develop an entirely inappropriate reaction. It wasn’t his fault—Frances was lovely, her blue-green eyes as rich and lush as a peacock’s feather and her slightly parted lips looked like fresh strawberries he wanted to suck the juices from. These thoughts were not helping.

  “Good afternoon,” he said to the unknown woman.

  Sarah gestured toward the pretty, auburn-haired lady beside her. “Allow me to present the Marchioness of Northam. Lavinia, this is the Earl of St. Ives.” Had she emphasized his name? David couldn’t be sure.

  And then he was.

  The marchioness’s eyes took on a perceptive gleam. “St. Ives, what a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Her tone held a note of unmistakable glee. It was evident Frances had told them all about him. But had she told them everything?

  He bowed. “The pleasure is also mine.” His gaze drifted toward Frances, and he tried to think of how to get her alone. Or at least a bit away. So they could have a much-needed discussion.

  Was it really necessary? She’d lied. He’d lied, or omitted the entire truth anyway. Did any of that matter?

  “I’m going to sit on a bench,” Miss Colton announced. She curled her arm through the marchioness’s. “Come with me, Lavinia.”

  Any doubt as to whether they were aware of the connection between David and Frances was completely demolished. As the two women walked toward a nearby bench, David turned to Frances. “That wasn’t very subtle.” He kept his voice low, though he wondered why he should bother. “Do they know everything?”

  She shrugged. “They know you aren’t a steward.” She fixed him with an irritated stare.

  “No more than you’re a housemaid.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we walk for a spell?”

  The moment she placed her hand on his sleeve, he suffered another shock of heat, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of her soft lips and the intoxicating scent of lilies of the valley.

  He guided her along the bank of the Serpentine. “It’s good to know you didn’t lie about everything,” he murmured. “You really are a terrible dancer.”

  Frances squeezed his arm and sucked in a breath. “You aren’t much better—on either count. You’re an earl?”

  He looked down at her upturned face. “And you are clearly not a housemaid.”

  “It seemed…prudent to mislead you,” she said defensively.

  “Why?”

  “Because if I told you my brother-in-law is the Duke of Clare, you never would have kissed me.”

  Another flash of heat. Why did she have to bring that up? As if he wasn’t thinking about it. He looked quickly over his shoulder at the two women sitting on the bench and farther down the bank at the group of gentlemen talking. “Keep your voice down.”

  “No one can hear me,” she said. “And even if they could, it would only be Lavinia and Sarah, and they already know you kissed me.”

  He exhaled, trying to keep his wits amidst his frustration—both from the conversation and his troublesome desire. “Frances—” He looked down at her again. “Is that really your name?”

  “Everyone calls me Fanny.”

  “I can’t call you Fanny.”

  “Why not? I can’t keep from thinking of you as David.”

  This dialogue was veering into territory that was beyond acceptable. He was never more acutely aware of his new and rather cumbersome title. “Let me understand. You told me you were a housemaid because you wanted to entice me to kiss you.”

  “Not at all. I was being cheeky a moment ago. But it’s true. If you knew who I really was, you wouldn’t have kissed me, and I rather enjoyed it. As I recall, I tried to tell you I was from Stour’s Edge, and you didn’t seem to believe that could be true.” She gave him a pert look. “So I told you what I thought you wanted to hear.”

  She was right, damn it. He’d seen her walking and had followed her, which had turned out to be a good thing since she’d been lost. But stalking after a young lady was somehow worse than stalking after a housemaid. And yet it wasn’t. They were both equally cringe inducing. “I heartily apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “For all of it. Making assumptions, kissing you, generally behaving like an ass.”

  She smiled broadly, with a hint of coquetry. “I thought you were incredibly charming, and if you apologize for that kiss again—you already did it once, and that was one time too many—I’ll kick you in the shin.”

  He stopped, turning toward her. “Why not just threaten to dance with me?”

  She laughed, and he was, for a brief moment, transported back to that snowy December day where he’d felt absolutely smitten.

  “Fine, I’ll dance with you, then—a waltz so you need only suffer me for a short time instead of an entire set.”

  He could think of far worse fates. “We have an accord.” And now he was quite tempted to apologize a third time. But he didn’t.

  They continued along the bank. “Why did you tell me you were a steward?”

  “It wasn’t a complete lie. The steward was reviewing things with me because I had just become the earl in October. In hindsight, I didn’t quite feel like an earl at the time, so it was easier to just not be one.” He still didn’t quite feel like one.

  Her gait halted, and he slowed with her. She laid her other hand over his arm so that her grip encircled him. It was both comforting and enticing. “Your father died recently?” she asked softly. At his nod, she touched his sleeve. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you. It was rather sudden.” And utterly devastating. “I hadn’t planned on being the earl this soon.”

  He’d wanted to write a book about the birds of Huntingdonshire. He’d wanted to travel to all the various islands around Britain to study waterfowl in particular. He’d wanted to study migratory patterns and breeding habits. He’d thought he had at least another twenty years before he’d have to assume the title. Every other Earl of St. Ives had lived to be eighty or more. In fact, David’s father had only been the earl two years.

  “I hadn’t planned on being the sister-in-law of a duke…ever. But here we are.”

  He stared down into her eyes and was overcome with the same sensation he’d felt four months ago—an overwhelming desire to kiss her. “Yes, here we are.”

  She leaned into him, and he began to bend his head. The flurry of wings nearby when a small gaggle of greylag geese landed in the water reminded him they were in public and he couldn’t kiss her, let alone shouldn’t.

  She seemed to realize the same thing, for they jerked back simultaneously. She took her hand from his arm, and suddenly she tilted. Her eyes widened. She was falling backward. David lunged to reach for her, but he was too late.

  The loud squawking of geese filled the air as Fanny hit the water with a splash.

  The water was very cold. Fanny gasped as she windmilled her arms through the water, taking in a mouthful of it for her trouble. Spitting and sputtering, she was aware of strong hands clasping her waist and pulling her up.

  Those same hands swept her out of the lake. David’s arm came underneath her knees, and she threw her arms around his neck and held on with everything she had.

  He sloshed through the shallow water to the bank and continued walking. “Where is your coach? I dearly hope you arrived in a vehicle or that you live close to the park. I would drive you home myself, but I walked here.” He sounded supremely disappointed in himself.

  She gauged the firm set of his jaw and the chill in his eyes. “This isn’t your fault.”

  His gaze tipped down to hers. “I’m certainly not blameless.”

  “Why, because you wan
ted to kiss me again?”

  “Fanny, you really need to speak more quietly.”

  Lavinia and Sarah had rushed over to meet them. Both wore matching expressions of horror mixed with concern, but given the way they glanced between Fanny and David, they’d clearly heard what Fanny had said. Yes, perhaps she should think before she spoke. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything she wouldn’t have told them anyway.

  “Are you all right?” Sarah asked.

  “Quite.” She smiled for good measure, because really, aside from the soaking, she was rather pleased to be in David’s arms.

  “You’re drenched,” Lavinia said with a frown. “Fortunately, I drove my new curricle today. Unfortunately, it’s over near Grosvenor Gate. I’ll hurry to fetch it and bring it around.” She looked to David. “Can you carry her to the drive over there?” She pointed back along the bank of the Serpentine.

  “Certainly,” David answered just as several gentlemen arrived, led by Anthony and Felix.

  “How can we help?” Anthony asked.

  “Lady Northam has a curricle near Grosvenor Gate in which to transport Miss Snowden home,” David said. “One of you can likely fetch it faster than she can.”

  “I’ll go,” Felix offered, taking off at a run before anyone could respond.

  Fanny leaned toward David’s ear and whispered, “You should put me down.”

  He started walking toward the drive, and she noticed he stayed far away from the water’s edge. “I’ll set you into the curricle when it arrives. I don’t want you catching cold.”

  “So you’re keeping me warm, then?” His thoughtfulness certainly warmed her. “I’m getting you all wet.”

  “I’ll survive.” He winced, and the reaction made her frown.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Why not?”

  “A splinter brought my father down. What’s to say a wet coat won’t see me to my end?”

  Fear laced through her. “You don’t really believe that. Do you?”

  “Not rationally, no. I suppose it’s possible, but it’s unlikely.” He gave his head a shake. “This is a dismal topic, and I insist we depart from it.”

  “Whatever you wish. Though sometime, I hope you’ll tell me about your father.”

  He glanced down at her, but his expression was unreadable.

  The entourage of people, including Sarah and Lavinia, followed them to the drive. Heeding her own advice—and David’s—Fanny kept her voice low. “You don’t have to keep carrying me. I must be rather heavy. I’m too tall, and my dress must weigh an extra half stone at least now that it’s wet.”

  “I doubt that, but in any case, you aren’t heavy at all.”

  As he paused to adjust her weight in his arms, she wasn’t sure she believed him. But she didn’t protest again. Instead, she inhaled the scent of pine and clove that clung to his jacket. “You smell divine,” she whispered near his ear.

  “Fanny, you must stop doing that.” His voice was low and urgent.

  “What, whispering in your ear or telling you that you smell nice?”

  “All of it. Particularly since my clothing is—” He snapped his mouth closed. “Never mind.”

  She wanted to ask what his clothing was, but they’d reached the drive, and Sarah moved around to Fanny’s lower half and wrung water from the hem of her gown.

  “You don’t have to do that, Sarah. You’ll ruin your gloves,” Fanny said.

  “They’re just gloves.”

  Lavinia winked at Fanny. “She’s saving the interior of my new curricle.”

  Fanny laughed, then focused her gaze on David, whose jaw was still tense. “Since you walked, does that mean you live close?”

  “On Bolton Street.”

  “Lovely. Clare House is in Berkeley Square. In case you wanted to know.” It was a shameless solicitation for him to call on her—if he was paying attention.

  He slanted a look at her, his lips twitching briefly. “I did, in fact.” Good, he was paying attention.

  Felix drove the curricle toward them. He came to a stop nearby, and Lavinia’s groom jumped from the back to help Lavinia into the vehicle.

  David carried Fanny to the curricle, and Fanny saw a crowd of people coming down the drive, some on horseback, and even a few vehicles that were nearly upon them.

  “Blast it all,” she murmured.

  He followed her gaze just before he set her into the vehicle. He looked toward Lavinia. “Hurry and go before the vultures descend.”

  Lavinia nodded as she picked up the reins. “Right.”

  “Thank you,” Fanny called to him as Lavinia steered them away.

  Fanny was suddenly cold and wrapped her arms around herself to ward away the chill.

  “I’ll get you home as soon as possible. I’m getting quite good at this. Beck has been giving me lessons.” Lavinia said this with a sparkle in her eye and a note of giddiness in her tone. She’d been married a few weeks, and her bliss was on display for all the world to see. She glanced toward Fanny very briefly. “What was going on with you and David—I should really call him St. Ives, but since you told us about ‘David’ from the start, that will be difficult—down by the water?”

  “I have trouble with that too. I’m afraid I can’t think of him as anything other than David. I hope I don’t forget propriety and address him the wrong way.”

  “You mean the way you two nearly forgot propriety before you fell into the lake?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Fanny belatedly recalled that Lavinia had heard her say that he was about to kiss her. Regardless of what Lavinia might have seen, she knew the truth of it. “Never mind. You know what was going on. Why even ask me?”

  “Because I wanted the full story, not just what I could see.”

  So she had come to a conclusion without hearing what Fanny had said. Fanny tipped her head toward Lavinia. “And what did you see?”

  “Two people about to kiss. Again. Is he going to court you?”

  “We didn’t discuss it. I’m afraid my clumsiness prevented further conversation.”

  “He should court you. Or stop kissing you.” Lavinia shook her head. “Don’t listen to me. I am not a paragon of virtue.”

  “No, you aren’t. If memory serves—and only because you informed us after the fact—you were kissing Beck long before there was any formal courtship. Did you even have a formal courtship?”

  “As I said, I am not a good example.” Lavinia turned them from Piccadilly up Berkeley Street. “You should stay home tonight to ensure you haven’t taken a chill.”

  She was probably right, but Fanny didn’t want to. She wanted to go wherever David would be. Unfortunately, she didn’t know where that was. “I doubt Ivy will let me anyhow. She mothers everyone.”

  “Good. You require mothering this evening.” Lavinia drove into the square and pulled in front of Clare House.

  Lavinia’s groom rushed from the back to help Fanny descend. She walked toward the house, her feet squishing in her probably ruined half boots.

  The butler, Tarenton, opened the door, and his face immediately registered shock. He turned and barked at a footman to fetch the duchess.

  “I’m fine, Tarenton, just damp.” That was a rather gargantuan understatement.

  Lavinia had followed her into the house. “Do you want me to stay?”

  “No, Ivy will take care of me,” Fanny said as another chill tripped across her shoulders. “Though I do think a hot bath will be in order.” She sent a smile toward Tarenton, who took himself off to presumably set things in motion.

  “We’ll check on you tomorrow.” Lavinia gave her a concerned smile before turning and quitting the house.

  Fanny realized she was dripping on the marble floor and made her way through the hall to the wide staircase. Ivy was already on her way down, her jaw gaping in horror.

  “What on earth happened?” She rushed to the bottom and put her hand on Fanny to guide her up the s
tairs. “You fell in the Serpentine, obviously,” she said, answering her own question.

  Fanny lifted her sodden skirts as she climbed. “How is it obvious?”

  Ivy’s answering look of sarcasm nearly made Fanny laugh. “You were at Hyde Park. You like to walk down by the Serpentine. And you’re you.”

  “Meaning I would fall in.”

  “I'm honestly surprised it hasn’t happened before now.”

  Now Fanny did laugh. She was so glad to have found her sister after so many years apart. Ivy had left their household when Fanny had only been ten, and Fanny had missed her dreadfully.

  “You need a hot bath,” Ivy said as they reached the first floor and continued up toward the second, where the bedrooms were located.

  “Tarenton is seeing to it.” Fanny realized this was the second time—out of three encounters—that she required a bath after being with David.

  “Good. Then you’ll drink hot tea and broth and whatever else to ensure you don’t become ill. Cook will make you a toddy. Then you’ll rest.”

  “Is it too much to hope we’ll still go out this evening?” Fanny asked.

  Ivy blinked at her as if she’d just asked to fly to the moon. “Yes.”

  Fanny exhaled. “I thought as much. Still, I had to ask.”

  “How, exactly, did you fall into the lake?” Ivy would ask until Fanny told her what happened.

  “I was walking with a gentleman.”

  Ivy cast her a dubious glance. “Walking or falling?”

  “Walking. I tripped.” She certainly wasn’t going to tell Ivy the truth of the matter. She’d never even told her about meeting David, let alone kissing him. Though Ivy was happily married to a wonderful man, she still believed most men to be pigs. Fanny was certain her sister would categorize a man who’d followed her onto Stour’s Edge property and kissed her as such.

  They arrived on the second floor and went toward Fanny’s chamber which overlooked the square. Ivy opened the door and ushered Fanny inside toward her dressing room. “And who is this gentleman so I can be sure to have West scold him about allowing you to fall into the Serpentine?”