The Duke's Dilemma

by Rachel McNeely

  The dressmaker studied her customer. “It will have to be a gown already made or one almost finished. Let me go to my back room and see what I can find."

  Mary Ann sat nearby studying fashion plates. Helena paced the small room. Giggles at the door brought their attention to the entrance. Two very young debutantes came in, laughing and whispering.

  "He asked you to dance, Sara,” the brown haired girl said.

  "Mama is beside herself. Of course, he must first get out of his present entanglement before he is eligible. But, I hear she is a very coarse woman, independent and demanding. Mama says you must not show such temperament to a gentleman or he will not make an offer.” The young blond-haired debutante spoke to her friend.

  "I can't believe that he showed you attention, Sara."

  "I know, my heart raced during the whole dance and everyone stared."

  "A broken wedding contract is considered scandalous, but no would snub a duke regardless. You might have a future as a duchess."

  The girls glanced around, only then noticing the two women on the left side of the room. They smiled and rang the bell on the table to bring Mademoiselle from her back room.

  "Ladies, how lovely and refreshing you look this morning. I am helping Lady Helena Steeples. I will have Marie bring your gowns out and you can go with her to try them on."

  The blonde, Sara, stared at Helena and Mary Ann. “You are the twins?"

  Mary Ann laughed, “That isn't too hard to notice."

  Sara's friend whispered to her, and then Sara moved closer to Helena. “You were betrothed to the Duke of Monteroy?"

  "I am betrothed to the duke.” Helena stated in her most haughty voice.

  The blonde straightened her spine and cast a cold look over Helena. “The on-dit is that will not last much longer."

  Helena forced herself to laugh, a tingling, casual sound. “Don't always believe what you hear from gossips or even the papers. I can assure you we still plan to be married."

  Sara had the grace to flush. Spite showed in her eyes. “I wouldn't discount your competition, Lady Helena. After all, you must be twenty or older. You should try putting cucumber slices over you eyelids to take away some of the puffiness and lines.” Turning, the girls marched off regally, following the dressmaker's assistant into the dressing room.

  "Lady Helena,” the dressmaker spoke from the curtained opening of another dressing area. “Please come with me and try on these three gowns. I believe the ivory satin may be the best."

  On arriving home from shopping, they found no message from Nicholas, but they did receive an invitation from Lady Woodbridge to her last ball of the season. Good, this would help her implement her plan. Tonight, one way, or the other, she'd settle things with Nicholas.

  She took the ivory gown to her room and tried it on. The top cut deeply down between her breasts, barely covering her, and ended in small puffy off-the-shoulder sleeves. The soft satin material hugged her figure to her waist then softly flared around her hips. When she walked, pleats separated showing ruby red lace in between. The perfect dress to complement her rubies.

  Her rubies. She would not allow them or Nicholas to go to that young, cold as ice debutante. If she wanted a battle, she would have one. The time had come to show Nicholas, in no uncertain terms, how she felt about him.

  * * * *

  He saw her as soon as she entered the ballroom. Candlelight flickered over her golden hair piled loosely on top with curls dangling along her neck, the ruby earrings sparkling from her small shell-shaped ears. His gaze roamed over her creamy white shoulders. His blood red rubies lay around her neck, the large egg-shaped ruby nestled between her breasts.

  "Quite striking, isn't she?” Franklin murmured at his side.

  "Yes,” Nicholas felt the dryness in his mouth and the hunger in the pit of his stomach.

  Franklin stepped around him and headed toward Helena and Mary Ann. Nicholas barely glanced at Mary Ann, but realized Franklin had not been speaking of Helena. Mary Ann wore ice blue with a single strand of pearls around her neck.

  Nicholas still felt the residue of anger from his guard's report of Helena's visit to see Lawson. Would she never get the man out of her mind?

  Deliberately, he moved in the opposite direction from Helena, toward Lady Sara. Her eyes eager, she and her mother greeted him with much enthusiasm. Bowing, he invited her to dance. Young and too full of herself she might be, but she would be complaisant and make him a competent duchess.

  Since he'd returned to London, he'd had some qualms about Helena's behavior since their betrothal. And after hearing of Helena's last visit to Lawson, he'd decided he had no desire for a wife who cared more for another man than him. Even with Lawson gone from England, he did not know if she would forget him. Jealousy ate at his insides. He didn't like the feeling.

  Tomorrow would be soon enough to meet with Helena and discuss ending their relationship. He felt certain that was why she had come to London and what she wanted all along. This would be best for both of them. But, it didn't stop the ache in his chest.

  As he twirled Lady Sara around the ballroom, he felt no joy. They would have a true rational arrangement. Lady Sara understood the rules.

  * * * *

  Helena watched as Nicholas danced by with the young blonde woman from the dress shop. Lady Sara Perkle, someone told her, a most sought after debutante.

  Nicolas did not look her way, but he knew of her presence. After all, Franklin had surprised them by coming right over and asking Mary Ann to dance. And if Franklin saw them, Nicholas did too.

  Her hands itched to go over and pull Lady Sara from his arms. She chuckled to herself that would certainly give the Ton something to talk about for a long time. Aware of the whispers around her and the looks darting from the duke and his dance partner and back to her, Helena kept a smile pasted on her face.

  She knew many of the ladies who stopped to speak with her hoped she'd give them a tidbit of gossip, something to talk about on the other side of the room, where the matrons sat. She didn't. She kept her posture straight, voice soft and polite, and directed questions to the ladies. She asked about their families, carefully sidestepping any inquiries regarding the duke.

  I vow, Nicholas, you will pay tonight for ignoring me. She was determined more then ever to follow her plan. She would have to enlist Mary Ann's help to slip away without their mother's knowledge. Even if she did want her daughters married, her mother would definitely not agree to a late night visit to a bachelor residence.

  Once the gentlemen saw Nicholas go to the card room, they began to ask Helena to dance. Mary Ann and Helena moved to the refreshment room half way through the evening and sampled the sweet lemonade.

  "Franklin disappeared after the first dance,” Mary Ann complained. “I simply do not understand the man. At times he looks at me like he wants to carry me away, instead he disappears."

  "Well you have not been at a loss for partners."

  "Neither have you. Don't you think it strange that Nicholas would ignore you so pointedly?"

  "His behavior is causing much speculation. I didn't dream he'd not ask me to dance at all. One dance would slow the gossip."

  Mary Ann patted Helena's hand reassuringly. “Not to worry, there's plenty of time."

  Helena wondered how long Nicholas planned to stay. He usually left long before the last dance.

  She wanted to leave herself and motioned to Mary Ann when the orchestra finished another dance and the crowd began to dissipate. She hesitated and looked around the room one more time.

  Their eyes met. He began to work his way toward her. Her tongue moistened her dry lips.

  He bowed. “May I have this dance, Lady Helena?"

  "Yes, Your Grace.” She curtsied and took his offered arm.

  His warm hand touched the side of her back and his other wrapped around her right hand. Soon they glided around the dance floor.

  "We are giving the gossips much to talk about tonight, Your Grace."

>   "It seems we are. How have you been, Lady Helena?"

  Deep green eyes studied her face and then her shoulders, darkening even more when they stared at her bosom and the ruby stone lying between. He glanced up, waiting for an answer to his question.

  "As you have observed, Your Grace, I am fine.” She fought to keep the tremble in her body from showing in her words.

  Angry eyes met hers. “I think I may strangle you if you say, Your Grace, one more time."

  She laughed and turned to the next partner in line. She found herself directly across from Lady Sara. That young lady sent darts of anger and envy in her direction. Helena nodded her head and smiled.

  When Helena and Nicholas came back together she added, “She is much too young for you, Nicholas. She will bore you to death within the first month of marriage."

  "And you think you know what type of woman I need to marry?” he snapped, his hand tightening on her hand and back.

  Helena moved her head back, slightly opening her mouth, deliberately tempting him. She could see him pull himself straighter, fire sparking out of his eyes.

  "We will discuss this further at my house. You wanted to have a meeting?"

  "Ah, you did get my note. I wondered. Shall we meet tonight, after the dance?” she asked.

  "It would be most improper,” he said.

  "Not much more then some of our other escapades."

  "Our? My dear, they were your escapades. My wishes were never considered."

  "Oh, you are in a huff. Shall we leave soon, so we can discuss this more comfortably?"

  "I plan on leaving at the end of the ball. You will do whatever you wish, as usual."

  The music stopped as though in timing with his last words. He walked with her to Mary Ann, bowed, and blended into the crowd.

  "Did things go poorly?” Mary Ann asked.

  "Let's go home. We can do nothing more here and I need you to help me slip out, later, without mother being aware."

  "Here we go again. This is the last time."

  "Yes, it is. I promise."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 30

  Nicholas paced across his study and poured himself a drink. It was long after midnight. He left the ball shortly after Helena. He'd considered speaking with Lady Sara and her parents before he left, but knew that might give them false hope. Helena was right. Lady Sara would never suit. Actually, no one would but Helena. His body ached with wanting her. It had taken all his presence of mind not to cup her face and cover it with kisses tonight.

  He thought briefly again of fighting Lawson in a duel for her, like the knights of old. He smiled to himself. But he wanted her heart, not only her body, and Lawson Falscroft appeared to hold that.

  He came back to London determined to take care of all his pertinent business and then with a special license in hand go to her home and claim her. Then, he'd heard from the guard of her visit to see Falscroft. Damn the man. Did Lawson still hold her heart? He had not thought so, but his usual rational mind seemed unable to understand Helena's behavior.

  "Your Grace.” His butler interrupted his thoughts. “There is a young lady at the door, Lady Helena Steeples.” The butler showed his astonishment and disapproval in his bearing and face.

  So she braved all the lions and came to his front door. Somehow it was an oddly warming gesture, as though she dared all to see him. His heart rallied with hope and he squashed it. Too many other times disappointment had followed. This time he'd not be so easy to control. Still, a flicker of desire stirred in his body.

  * * * *

  She entered his study and found herself confronted by his hot glare. Her breath deepened. They watched each other warily across the paneled room. He stood by the fireplace, where a small fire burned, his hand holding a crystal glass with amber liquid. A single lit candle sat on his desk.

  The butler backed quietly out of the room, shutting the door.

  "You came. I'm not surprised. Very little surprises me about you anymore. I wonder how my first impressions could have been so wrong. The reserved twin, calm and comfortable to be around. Nothing like her volatile sister."

  "You were right. However, the change came after I met you. Perhaps you brought out the more daring side of me."

  He laughed harshly. “Please do not even consider blaming me for your antics."

  "My antics, as you call them, were done to try and help you."

  "How crushing to my ego, my dear, to think you did not believe me capable of taking care of myself and you.” Flint hard eyes stared across at her.

  Stepping away from the door, Helena strolled in his direction. His eyes burned a path over her shoulders to her breasts. She smiled and very slowly took off first one of her long white gloves and then the other, flinging them onto a side table.

  When she stood close in front of him, she whispered, “May I have a glass of your brandy?"

  * * * *

  He forced himself to put space between them. Her fragrance of honeysuckle taunted his memory. Annoyed with the clumsiness of his hands, he spilt a drop of brandy filling her glass.

  "I don't make you nervous, do I?” He heard her breathless voice right behind him. Pivoting around, he stared down on her, before handing her the tumbler of brandy and stepping away.

  "What brought you here tonight that could not wait for the morning?"

  "I am aware you are angry with me, otherwise you would never have shown such flagrant disrespect tonight” She stopped talking and took a deep breath.

  Her gown moved even lower across her bosom. A flash of heat burned through his body. He took a swallow of whiskey giving him time to regain his control.

  "You hardly danced with me,” she added.

  Setting his glass aside, he faced her.

  "Shall we dance, now?” He put her glass on a nearby table and took her in his arms.

  "We have no music."

  Putting his head close to hers, he hummed a tune and whirled her around the room.

  * * * *

  Heat flowed from him into her. His long legs gliding against hers, their bodies connected physically, if not emotionally. She loved him and she had to convince him, otherwise she might lose him. A mixture of fear and hope swirled around inside her.

  His head turned and he stopped humming. She shivered and he pulled back, staring into her eyes. Her breath caught and she pulled his face down.

  They stood intertwined, touching from head to toe. She wanted to flow into him and become part of him.

  He pushed her away and strode across the room. “What did you come to say tonight? I must tell you I have considered releasing you from our agreement."

  "I thought you definitely wanted to be released after hearing the latest gossip and seeing you dance tonight with Lady Sara and...” She came up close to him again and put her hand on his chest. Her heart pounded. She was determined to get through to him. “I have it on her authority that I am too old for you. My eyes have lines and are puffy."

  He took her hand and drew her toward the lit candle. “Let me see.” He leaned close staring into her eyes. “No, she is mistaken. I see nothing, except lovely blue eyes, with flecks of gold."

  He sat down on the chair next to them and pulled her into his lap. “How is Lord Falscroft doing? I heard you had been to see him."

  "Your guard reported on me."

  He nodded. “Yes."

  "I didn't know Lawson was home. We went to see his mother and yes, I did tell him goodbye. He planned to leave the next morning to board the ship to America."

  "Nothing could have made me happier. You are not sad he left?"

  "How could I be?” She stood and moved closer to the warmth of the fire. “You see,” she glanced over her shoulder at him, “I am working hard on my soon to be wedding to the man I love.” She smiled, her heart beating faster when she saw Nicholas come out of his chair. “But I'm not sure my duke still wants me."

  Nicholas wrapped his arms around her. Lowering his head, he stoppe
d his mouth just above her lips. “I have it on the utmost confidence that he adores you and wishes to marry none other then you, my love."

  She whispered softly, before he covered her lips, “then I must hurry home and prepare for him."

  Nicholas laughed and swung her up into his arms. “Your preparations can wait,” he said, and headed to the door.

  "Tonight, you will sleep in my bed. Tomorrow will be soon enough to prepare for our wedding.

  * * * *

  Nicholas slammed the door shut with his foot and strode to his bed. He lay Helena on the silver satin bedspread and pulled the pins out of her golden hair to spread it out across the pillows. Burying his face in its softness, he took a deep breath and filled his lungs with her special essence.

  His mouth moved from her hair to her forehead, then her lips. He kissed her gently at first until the rising tide of desire spurned him on and his tongue slipped into her soft warm mouth. She tasted like strawberries on a warm summer day. Slowly he moved from her lips to her luscious white throat. He nibbled along the curve of her neck and shoulders tasting her sweetness. Heat, as hot as a fire shot through him. Pushing aside the top of her gown, his hand found the soft satin feel of her breast and his lips followed. He licked and suckled both breasts, growing harder as he heard her moan. Raising his body away from hers, he stared down at her beauty. Her white skin flushed with desire and her blue eyes glowed. Golden hair sparkled like real gold and his ruby lay nestled between her rose tipped breasts. She lay like the most tempting fest just for him.

  * * * *

  Helena was on fire. Every nerve ending in her body yearned for him. She pulled him back down to her. His hands slid along her body and he groaned when they tangled in the long skirts of her gown.

  He turned her on her side and began to unfasten her dress. He pulled it down and away, and then removed her undergarments, kissing each spot as he uncovered it. The cool air failed to cool her fevered skin.

  Her gaze followed his movements as he rose and pulled off his shirt, pants, and the rest of his clothes. He was beautiful. She'd like to paint him as he stood now. All male arrogance, his feet apart, standing still while her eyes roamed over him from his tousled hair, down his broad chest, across his abdomen to his maleness and his sturdy long legs. She'd never painted a nude, but she would paint him someday, as he stood now, towering over her.