The Illegitimate Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  She was close, so close he could smell the enticing scent of peonies, hear every breath she took and sense the rapid beat of her pulse which surely kept pace with his own. Damned if she wasn’t the loveliest creature on earth and he wasn’t tempted to take every liberty she would permit. But the consequences, ah, those blasted consequences always ruined the moment.

  “I fear for your safety, Juliette.” Whoever was responsible for the threats he’d been receiving, Florian would not permit the villain to use his fondness for Juliette as leverage. Or worse. The thought of anyone causing her bodily harm was enough to make him keep his distance even if scandal and his own tarnished entry into this world somehow failed. No matter what, he had to protect her.

  Of course, she misunderstood his meaning entirely. “As you should.” She leaned back as if seeking escape, yet the hitch in her breathing suggested a longing for more. “I cannot answer for what might happen between us if you do not walk away.”

  Christ, she was glorious! A tempting siren ready to lead him astray without any effort to pretend otherwise. Her admission stirred his blood to no end. It drew him to her so he was leaning in, his one hand still on her arm, the other one now at her waist.

  “As regrettable as it is, you are a risk I cannot permit.” He spoke the discouraging words even as he allowed his index finger to draw a line up the length of her torso. He did it with slow deliberation, reveling in the tiny little gasps she emitted when he finally reached the edge of her décolletage and, more daringly than he’d intended, stroked his way along it. “A treat I cannot savor.” Flattening his entire hand across the lovely expanse of her breasts, he pressed himself into her warmth. A shudder rolled through her and then she arched, her hips seeking purchase while her breathing turned more ragged.

  “Florian.”

  Damn him for letting himself encourage her needs. And damn him for loving the fervor with which she yearned for his touch. Somehow, he would have to put an end to this before they were found or before he did something foolish like strip her bare right here, right now and take her with every carnal need he possessed.

  But first, he had to take something with him—something to treasure in the lonely nights that loomed before him. “Yes, Juliette. What do you want?”

  “Everything,” she sighed on parted lips that beckoned while reassuring him of her desire.

  It quickened his pulse even as he pulled away, adding distance by stepping back and leaving her there, alone and without his reciprocation. But to tell her he felt the same would threaten his already thin control. “I am sorry.” The incomprehension filling her eyes was more than understandable. And since he could offer her nothing else besides that pathetic apology, he turned away and headed for home while damning himself to the hell where he surely belonged.

  “This evening’s social function has offered some information that will be of great interest to you,” Mr. Smith told Bartholomew. “Your spy has uncovered a weakness.”

  Sitting up straighter, Bartholomew angled his head and gestured for Smith to step closer. “Leave us,” he told the woman who’d been licking her way up the length of thigh protruding from the opening in his robe. Reaching for his brandy, he asked her to wait for him upstairs in his bedchamber. “Pick a toy,” he drawled, “and we’ll have some fun.” He watched her departure while sipping his drink. Once out of sight, he gave Smith his full attention. “You were saying?”

  The servant smirked, which was always a good sign. “There is a lady whom your son seems to favor.”

  Bartholomew shifted, drawing his robe more tightly around himself. “Enough for a threat on her life to matter?”

  “Possibly.” Smith nodded pensively. “From what I gather he was spotted in a rather intimate embrace with her, though he made no actual attempt at seduction.”

  “Which would suggest he either fears attachment or cares about her too much to compromise her at a social event.” Bartholomew’s interest increased. “Who is this woman?”

  “The lady’s name is Juliette Matthews. She is the Duke of Huntley’s youngest sister.”

  Bartholomew slowly lowered his glass and stared at Smith. “Isn’t Huntley the fighter who leveled the Bull last year?”

  In hindsight, the match had been a foolish undertaking, considering all the variables. But the Bull had been a champion and Bartholomew had been so damned certain of his success. Who knew that a duke would step up into the ring and best a man twice his size? Nobody could have predicted such an outcome, except for Guthrie, of course. He’d humiliated Bartholomew that day, forcing him to resort to other means by which to encroach on St. Giles. Securing the house that stood on the edge of it would have been a solid start, but then his own bloody son had interfered and the rest of his plans had gone to hell.

  “The very same,” Mr. Smith confirmed.

  This was even better than Bartholomew could have hoped. “Then perhaps we’ll kill two birds with one stone by targeting her.” He hadn’t intended to seek revenge on Huntley, but why the hell not? “Let’s wait awhile and see how things develop. In the meantime, have Lady Juliette placed under constant surveillance. The more we know about Florian’s love interest, the better.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Mr. Smith hesitated, shifted slightly and appeared to consider. Then, “What shall we do with Mr. Blaire?” he asked in reference to one of Florian’s chief physicians.

  The man had been tasked with checking on the quarantine ship, but Mr. Smith had intercepted Blaire’s carriage en route to Brighton and offered him a better job as Bartholomew’s private physician.

  “Nothing, at the moment,” Bartholomew said, in answer to Mr. Smith’s question.

  Mr. Smith arched an eyebrow. “What if he talks? It won’t take long for Florian to figure out who you really are.”

  “Oh, I’m counting on it.” Bartholomew chuckled. “I cannot wait to see the look on his face when he realizes I’ve destroyed his life.”

  Mr. Smith nodded. “I can understand that.” He tilted his head. “Speaking of ruining his life, you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve found the perfect adversary for Lowell.” He pulled on the sleeve of his jacket and straightened his shirt cuff.

  “Oh?”

  “The Earl of Elmwood is reported to be a crack shot. He also has a very pretty wife who’s twenty years his junior.” Mr. Smith smiled. “From what I’ve been able to discover, Elmwood won’t let her dance with anyone but him because he fears she might be led astray by a scoundrel.”

  Bartholomew grinned. “His insecurities will serve us well, Mr. Smith. Elmwood sounds like the sort of man who will reach for his pistol first and ask questions later. Which is precisely what we need.”

  Chapter 18

  Seeing Florian again wasn’t something Juliette looked forward to. Not after he’d left her in a state of utter bewilderment the previous evening. He’d been about to kiss her. She knew it deep in her bones. And yet the exasperating man had denied them both that moment of pleasure. Because he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, or whatever his unacceptable excuse had been at the time. She could not recall his exact words on account of the flustered state she’d been in. As it was, it had taken her a good fifteen minutes or more to gather her wits and return to the ballroom and a very impatient dance partner whom she’d forgotten about in the process.

  But, when word arrived from Raphe, informing her that Amelia was having her baby, Juliette grabbed her reticule and hastened out into the street with the intention of finding a hackney, only to be met by Florian’s carriage. “What are you doing here?” she asked as he leapt to the ground and made a quick bow. “Shouldn’t you be at Coventry House?”

  “I’m on my way over there now, but your home was en route, so I thought I’d make sure that you and your family were made aware of your sister’s condition.”

  “Raphe and Gabriella are already there. They went for tea.”

  “Right . . . well . . .” Florian glanced back over his shoulder. “In that case, you can come with me
.” He stepped aside and offered his hand to help her up.

  Juliette hesitated. “I should probably ask my maid to join us.” Occupying a hired hackney alone was one thing, but sharing a carriage with an unmarried gentleman was quite another.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to wait. And besides, there’ll be no harm to your reputation as long as the windows remain uncovered so people can see us.”

  Assured by his comment and propelled into action by the urgency of the situation, Juliette stepped forward and placed her hand in his. Her heart immediately leapt and her skin began to tingle. Since ignoring it was no longer possible, she accepted her body’s response to his presence and climbed into the conveyance.

  “About last night . . .” Florian began as soon as they’d taken off. He sat across from her, not touching her at all, yet he could still prompt flames to lick their way along her limbs with nothing more than a glance.

  Juliette expelled a breath. The man had apparently no intention of leaving her in peace. “Must we discuss it?”

  “I think we ought to. You see, as a gentleman, I would like to convey my sincerest apologies for the way in which I treated you. It was disrespectful and . . .” He paused while Juliette squeezed her eyes shut. His voice deepened as he continued, heightening her awareness. “You drive me to the brink of madness, Juliette. Your beauty, your boldness, your courage and your kindness . . .” His hand caught hers and she opened her eyes to the face of desire. “You encourage me to lose all reason.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “Am I to blame for the manner in which you led me into the darkness then? For the way in which you chose to touch me? For pressing your body up against mine and forcing me to confess my most intimate thought?”

  “I beg your pardon, I truly do.” He released her hand and leaned back. At least he had the decency to look thoroughly chastised, which was a rare departure from his usual poise. And then his expression filled with regret. “Abstaining from you has proven a chore. You cannot possibly imagine how much I want you. To walk away from you every time there is an opportunity for more between us is no simple feat. On the contrary, it is torturous to say the least.”

  As angry and hurt as she was by his stupid denial of what they could share, she sympathized with his plight. Which made her ask, as his friend, rather than the woman who wanted him with every fiber of her being, “Why won’t you let me help you? If you confide in me, perhaps together we can destroy the obstacle in your path.”

  He huffed out a tired breath. “You are sweetness itself, Juliette, and I am fortunate to have won the admiration of a woman such as yourself. Which is precisely why I cannot possibly share my reasons for why we cannot be together. Because your opinion of me is too important. I will not risk it.”

  It was as if a part of Juliette’s heart died in that moment, for he spoke with more conviction than she’d ever heard before—the sort that would brook no argument. “So then there is no hope for us at all?”

  “No.”

  “And you will give me no acceptable explanation.”

  “Suffice it to say that you deserve better.”

  Crossing her arms, Juliette clenched her jaw and glared at him. “You are insufferable. Do you know that?” When all he did was raise a brow, she went on, bolstered by the pain he’d caused by denying her the future she wanted. “How dare you decide such a thing without consulting me? I will be the judge of what I deserve, not you or the fear that prevents you from sharing the truth.” She was suddenly unbelievably furious. “If anyone ought to deserve better, it is you! You are educated, well-traveled, respected, and now a duke! For heaven’s sake, Florian. I am nothing more than a viscount’s grandchild, the daughter of a woman who abandoned her family and a man who killed himself for it. I may be the sister of a duke, but I have spent the majority of my life in the slums. Putting fine clothes on me and teaching me manners is never going to change any of that and yet you’re the one who worries I might be too good for you! Are you completely cracked in the head or have you lost your mental faculties by some other means?”

  Florian was actually gaping at her now as if she’d just escaped Bedlam. Eventually, he closed his mouth, shook his head and said, “I know it seems unreasonable, but you must trust me in this. There are things you do not know about me that you would surely find distasteful.”

  “Such as?” When he failed to respond she asked, “Are you a highway robber by night?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  She ignored his comment. “Have you committed a heinous crime?”

  “Of course not. Juliette, this questioning will lead us nowhere.”

  “It will allow me to ascertain the extent of your supposed unworthiness. So tell me, what is it?” An awful thought struck her. “Is it the French disease?”

  He looked as though he might choke and promptly proceeded to cough. “How the devil would you know about something like that?” The question was swiftly followed with an apology for the expletive which Juliette waved away without much thought.

  “Raphe mentioned it once or twice after hearing of someone who contracted it.” She felt oddly smug about having surprised the good surgeon so thoroughly he’d actually lost his composure. “If this is what ails you, your reluctance to marry begins to make sense.”

  “I do not have syphilis,” he clipped. “Practically speaking, I am in perfect health.”

  “Hmm . . .”

  He stared at her. “You don’t believe me?”

  “I might if you were to kiss me.”

  Crossing his legs, Florian pulled his bag onto his lap and met her gaze. Undeniable heat loomed there, the fire stoked inside him by that simple statement as blatant as her own. It sparked and sizzled in the air between them until the carriage drew to an unfortunate stop, signaling their arrival.

  “I will not kiss you,” he murmured as he opened the door and alit so he could help her down.

  Juliette clasped the hand he offered and stepped down onto the pavement with a smile. “We shall see,” she told him slyly.

  Whatever his demons might be, she suspected they weren’t as difficult to slay as he believed. All she had to do was find the obstacle in Florian’s way and destroy it.

  Chapter 19

  Picking up the nearby rattle, Juliette shook it gently above Peter’s face. The baby, snuggly nestled in her arms, chortled and waved his arms with amusement. It was two days since he’d been born and both he and his mother appeared to be thriving. As for Florian . . . Juliette tried to force all thought of him from her mind. She hadn’t seen him since the birth, deliberately allowing him the space she’d suspected he needed after their discussion.

  Frankly, she still wasn’t sure what had possessed her to be so outspoken toward him, but it had been necessary. She’d wanted to clear the air and give voice to all her frustration. Bringing up the French disease had been a bit much, but her tongue had gotten away from her, and so, here they were.

  She set the rattle aside and offered Peter her finger, which he happily clutched in his tiny hand. “He’s so strong.”

  “And handsome,” Amelia said with a smile. Sitting beside her, she sipped her tea while watching her sister and her son form a bond. “I cannot wait to meet your children one day.”

  The honesty resonating from Amelia’s voice produced a lump in Juliette’s throat. Her eyes were suddenly stinging and she was having difficulty drawing breath. “If I will ever be so lucky.” She forced the maudlin mood aside since it had no place here in this room. Instead, she managed a smile while adding sincerity to her voice. “To marry a man who loves you and bear his children is truly a blessing.”

  “Such a man exists for you as well, Juliette. You only have to open your heart to him and he will have no choice but to love you.”

  A bitter bit of laughter stole past Juliette’s lips before she could stop it. “I would like to think so.”

  Amelia reached for her son, pulling the baby into her arms so she could
place a tender kiss upon his forehead. “Florian could be that man.” Her voice was quiet, crooning even and so contradictory to the point she raised.

  “Perhaps,” Juliette agreed. If she could convince him. “Perhaps not. It is a complicated situation.”

  Amelia chuckled. “People will invariably make a mess of their emotions when in truth, love is a simple thing. You either feel it or you don’t. But if you do . . . well, I am of the opinion that it is worth fighting for.”

  Juliette could not deny sharing that sentiment. But Florian would not be an easy man to convince. Talking to him and attempting to reason with him had yielded no results thus far. But something else had . . . something Juliette might be wise to use to her advantage. Because if there was one thing he seemed to have trouble resisting, it was her closeness. She tempted him. He’d confessed as much. So if she truly wanted to win him, she might have to speak to his desire instead of to his brain.

  After helping the Duchess of Coventry deliver her son, Florian had left her and the rest of her family to marvel over the newborn baby. Returning to St. Agatha’s, he’d resolved to keep his distance from Lady Juliette by avoiding all social events in the coming weeks and focusing on his work.

  “Did the footman you questioned yield any results?” he asked Henry when he came to call two days later.

  “None,” Henry said with a downcast expression. “I’m starting to think he’s innocent.”

  “Then we’ll need to look at the other servants,” Florian said.

  “There’s something else.” Lowell pushed his hands into his pockets. “Elmwood has called me out.”

  “What!” Florian stared at his brother.

  “He thinks I’m bedding his wife.”