The Illegitimate Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  “Do you have the ring?” the vicar asked Florian when Juliette had finished making her vows.

  “I do.” Reaching inside his jacket pocket, Florian produced a simple gold band which he placed upon the vicar’s Bible.

  The vicar gave a satisfied nod, then picked up the ring and handed it back to Florian. “Please put this upon the fourth finger of Juliette’s left hand and hold it there while repeating after me . . .”

  Juliette’s heart leapt the moment she felt the cool piece of metal slide comfortably into place. Her eyes met Florian’s once again and saw in them the same degree of love she herself was experiencing. Her soul was verily overflowing with it, her body humming with infinite joy and excitement.

  Laughter bubbled up inside her with such force she could barely contain it. The vicar added a prayer, a blessing and a piece of scripture, but she failed to focus in her eagerness for all of this to be over so she and Florian could proceed with their newly wedded state. He conveyed his own exuberance with the wide smile that had crept into place on his handsome face several minutes earlier and with the fierce kiss he gave her the moment the vicar had finished speaking.

  It was passionate and warm and probably lasted a great deal longer than what was considered acceptable, but Juliette did not care. In fact, she could think of nothing better in all the world than kissing Florian back while he held her securely in his arms.

  “Congratulations,” Raphe said moments later when they’d pulled apart and faced their family. He’d stepped forward so he could give Juliette a brotherly hug. “I am so incredibly happy for you.”

  Everyone seconded this sentiment, embracing both Juliette and Florian in turn before calling on Pierson to serve some champagne.

  “We will host a ball in your honor once you return from your wedding trip,” Amelia said. She stood with Coventry’s protective arm around her waist. “How long do you expect to be gone?”

  “At least until the scandals pertaining to Florian’s lineage and my extended stay in his home without chaperone have blown over,” Juliette replied.

  “Huntley and I intend to use our influence to fight the scandal hanging over your heads,” Coventry said.

  “As will I,” Lowell told his brother. “Between the lot of us, I have no doubt we will meet with success.”

  “Thank you,” Florian said. “We’re extremely grateful for your help.”

  Juliette glanced at him and met his gaze while reaching for his hand and giving it a tight squeeze. The only thing that mattered now was the future, the love they shared for each other, and the incredible support their family was willing to provide.

  Later, when Florian and Juliette returned to the home they now shared, he felt like a green lad about to kiss a girl for the very first time. He was desperate to get it right. Having to inform his servants of his wedded state and accept their congratulations was actually a welcome distraction from the increased tightening of his nerves.

  “You may take the rest of the evening off,” he told Baker, Jillian and Mrs. Croft. “We will manage on our own. But please be here tomorrow by noon as we plan on departing for the Lake District and may need your help packing.”

  The servants readily agreed and quickly dispersed, leaving Florian and Juliette alone in the silence that followed. He glanced at her, eager to proceed with their wedding night but uncertain of where to begin since he did not wish to cause her unease or discomfort. And since he was the most experienced one of the pair, it fell to him to guide them both through this new experience, which added a surprising amount of pressure—more than he would ever have imagined. But he desperately wanted their first time together to be pleasant for her and unencumbered by shyness or fear.

  With this in mind, he reached for her arm and linked it snuggly with his own before proceeding toward the stairs. “I have an excellent port for us to enjoy.” The sweet liquor would help calm them both. They climbed a few steps in silence before he dared ask, “Are you worried about the sexual act?”

  She jerked her head around so she could stare up at him while they walked. Much to his relief, she shook her head. “No. I am familiar with the basics, and Gabriella was kind enough to offer some enlightenment while you took care of the special license. She assured me that it can be very pleasurable indeed as long as I relax and participate with enthusiasm.”

  Coughing so he would not choke in response to that bit of blunt information, Florian made a mental note to thank his new sister-in-law later. “She is correct.”

  He escorted his wife the rest of the way to his bedchamber and ushered her inside, watching as she took her time to survey the space. A four-poster bed draped with a dark blue canopy occupied the center. It was matched by a comfortable armchair that stood beside a low table in front of the fireplace. A tall armoire flanked the white wall next to the door while a solid chest of drawers and a washstand rested beneath the window looking out onto a small courtyard below.

  “It is simple but elegant. No flourish.” Juliette turned to face him. “I like it a lot.”

  It was silly how much that compliment pleased him. Abashed by it, he went to pour them both a glass of the port he’d mentioned earlier. “To our new life together as husband and wife.” He clinked his glass with hers and drank while she did the same.

  “I should probably examine your wound,” he said while eyeing the piece of linen still wrapped around her neck.

  When she nodded, he set his glass aside on the nightstand and reached for the fabric. A gentle tug and a bit of unraveling revealed a blotch of red smeared across her neck, but it was dry now and the graze itself was no longer bleeding.

  “I’ll clean it a bit,” Florian murmured, his pulse so rapid it made the tips of his fingers tremble.

  Grabbing the pitcher from his washstand, he poured a measure of water into the washbowl, located a clean handkerchief and wet one corner of it. He then returned to where Juliette stood and dabbed the handkerchief against her neck.

  “There,” he said when no more traces of blood remained. Blowing out a shuddering breath, he put the handkerchief in his pocket, recalled it was wet and retrieved it again so he could hang it to dry.

  Juliette surveyed his every move, which did nothing to ease the tension inside him.

  “You seem . . . unmoored.” She placed her glass next to his and watched him with glittering eyes. “Is it possible you might be more nervous about our joining than I am?”

  Her forwardness was both welcoming and admirable. “I believe I may well be. Making it perfect for you has put me in a state of uncommon apprehension.”

  “Which must be disconcerting for a man who is otherwise accustomed to being confident, methodical, certain.” She moved toward him. “Stop worrying.” He must have looked dubious, for she suddenly gave him a very reassuring smile and said, “I want this, Florian. I want to be with you in this way and considering how we feel about each other can only ensure that—”

  He didn’t let her finish, stealing the words she might have spoken with a kiss that instantly fueled his desire. She was stunning, self-assured, perfect in every way and the very personification of goodness itself. And she was kissing him back as though her life depended on it. Her arms were around his neck, her mouth moving in perfect concert with his, tasting and exploring with unrestrained fervor.

  Hands on her waist to hold her steady, he walked her back until she came up against the bedpost. “Juliette.” He whispered her name against her lips and slid his hands upward, stroking her torso, the sides of her breasts, until little whimpers rose from her throat.

  Still, she kissed him, arching her back to press herself closer. “Florian.” His name was a gasp, an elixir heightening each of his senses and strengthening his arousal.

  “Turn around.” He deliberately infused the demand with the promise of pleasure and to his delight, felt her shiver beneath his touch.

  She did as he bade without question, allowing him to unbutton her gown and draw it over her shoulders. It slid down her
body to pool at her feet, followed swiftly by her stays and her shift. She stepped away from the clothes, removing her shoes in the process so all she was left with were her stockings.

  Florian drew a shuddering breath while allowing himself the delicacy of perusing his wife’s nudity. He’d seen it before, of course, but that had been different. She’d been sick then, whereas now . . . Christ, the look she was giving him over her shoulder . . . A timid display of innocent lust so tempting he had no choice but to reach for her with unsteady hands and plant a row of kisses along the length of her spine.

  The sigh with which she responded was decadent indeed and quickly had him divesting himself of his own clothing. She turned to watch, her eyes devouring every part of the process as she leaned against the bedpost. Apparently, she felt no shyness, perhaps because she’d become accustomed to him seeing her naked during the week when he’d cared for her. Whatever the case, he was grateful, for it allowed him to admire her body without her trying to cover it up, his eyes lingering on the places where his touch would give her most pleasure.

  Juliette could only stare as the man she loved shucked his shirt to reveal a chest defined by rippling muscles. Kicking off his shoes, he removed his hose and straightened himself to his full height. As if enjoying her perusal, he met her gaze boldly and held it for a second before allowing it to fall away. She followed it down, her mouth going dry as she watched his hands move to his waistband. Unfastening buttons, he opened the placket and pushed his trousers and smalls down over his hips and all the way to the floor where he kicked them aside.

  She inhaled sharply when he rose again to stand before her. His arms were strong and beautifully shaped, his belly completely flat with a thin strip of copper hair darting down toward . . . She swallowed as she considered that part of him. It was larger than she’d expected and—

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said as if reading her thoughts. “Your body will accommodate mine, Juliette. Of that I can assure you.”

  She nodded, determined to regain her confidence from earlier. “I know.” He must have sensed that she wasn’t quite certain, for he instantly closed the distance between them and lowered his lips to her ear, whispering all manner of wicked intentions while his hands wandered over her curves.

  When she was almost undone by need and ready to beg him for more, he picked her up in his arms and lowered her onto the bed. Frantic for his caresses, she reached for him and he was there, his body hovering over hers while his questing fingers brought anticipation to a peak. “Please.” Her hands clasped at his shoulders, insistent on bringing him closer.

  “Yes, sweetheart.” His kiss was accompanied by the briefest pain and then by endless amounts of bliss. Gently, he moved against her, teaching her the timeless rhythm that would send them both right over the edge.

  She caught on quickly, her body adjusting to each new sensation until the initial discomfort was overshadowed by a ravenous need for more. Without warning, it barreled toward her with sudden speed, sweeping her up in euphoric pleasure and carrying her higher until she burst like one of the fireworks she’d once seen at Vauxhall.

  “Juliette . . .” Her name torn from his chest spoke of promise and hope, the deep kiss he gave her conveying his love while his body found its own satisfaction. “Mine.” He murmured the word against her ear in the moments that followed. “You are finally mine.”

  A boneless languor overcame her. It lingered as she gazed up into his deep blue eyes. Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek. “Yes.” And then, knowing he’d likely appreciate the assurance, she gave him a smile and told him sincerely, “I have never enjoyed anything more than what we just did.”

  His eyes seemed to darken. “In that case, allow me to show you another way I can give you pleasure.” Lowering his head, he kissed his way down the length of her body while Juliette sighed in response. Whatever her expectations of the marital act had been, this was so much better than she could ever have imagined. Her husband was just as attentive and loving as she planned on being. But more than that, she looked forward to sharing her life with him as his equal and of simply conversing with him over breakfast, which was more than she’d ever dared dream might be possible.

  Chapter 29

  Rolling onto his side, Florian smoothed Juliette’s hair away from her forehead. It was still very short, having grown only about an inch and a half in the three months they’d been away. As had become their daily routine during their escape to the Lake District, they’d taken a morning walk and spread out a blanket on one of the hillsides overlooking a valley. There, bathed by the August sun, they’d made love to each other until their sighs of pleasure whispered across the bright green landscape.

  “I love you.” He spoke the words that were constantly in his heart.

  The smile she returned was dazzling. “As I love you.”

  Kissing her had become as necessary to him as breathing. So he bowed his head and captured her lips with his. As always, she tasted delicious. “I could easily kiss you forever,” he told her, nuzzling the side of her neck with his nose.

  To his immense satisfaction, she wound her arms around his torso and pulled him back between her thighs, shifting slightly so her pelvis met his. “How about doing this forever?”

  He grinned, free from all the worry that had shadowed his life for so long. With Juliette he felt like the lad he’d been before his mother had pulled him aside and confessed he was really Bartholomew’s son. His soul had lightened, and his heart, influenced by her kindness, had filled to overflowing with the sort of love that cleansed the soul.

  “I do believe I’d enjoy that,” he told her while she in turn offered a cheeky smile.

  When they returned to the cottage they’d rented for luncheon, they found a letter waiting. “It is from the Duchess of Tremaine,” he told Juliette, recognizing her seal.

  “Open it.”

  He paused for only a second before doing as Juliette suggested, tearing the seal and unfolding the foolscap. His eyes scanned the page, absorbing every detail. Blinking, he raised his gaze to Juliette. “The hospital wants me back.”

  Juliette beamed up at him with encouraging zeal. “That is wonderful news!”

  “Apparently, some of my patients refuse to be treated by anyone else and demand to know where I am and what is keeping me away.”

  “Raphe did write a month ago letting us know there are only a few people left who seem to question your heritage and what transpired between the two of us while I was living beneath your roof.”

  “True.” He set the letter aside on a nearby table. “But there was no rush to return, especially since you would like for your hair to grow out before venturing back into Society.”

  Trumpeting her lips, her face took on an adorably pensive expression. “You are right,” she eventually told him, “but your patients are more important than my vanity.”

  His heart felt like bursting. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. My only regret is having to leave all of this behind. You and I have been gifted with a wonderful retreat. With you going back to work, that will be over.”

  “I know. I am just as sorry for that as you are.” He drew her into his arms. “Perhaps we should make it a rule to come back here once a year, for a month at least.”

  “If the hospital can spare you.”

  He drew a deep breath, inhaling the scent of peonies that would always remind him of home. “I will make it conditional upon my return.” Drawing her close, he sealed this promise with a kiss, grateful for the day when her unfailing tenacity had brought her into his office on a mission. That day had changed his life and would always remain a fixed moment in time when their lives had collided, shifted and continued on together toward an endless series of happy tomorrows.

  Chapter 30

  Henry Atticus Lowell was convinced he was going to die. After all, that was what one generally did when one had been shot in the chest. The pain of it was excruciating, an experience he could have avoided if
he’d only fired his pistol faster. But he hadn’t wanted to hurt the young baron who’d called him out after Henry had advised the man to change his tailor if he wanted a better result on the marriage mart. This had led to a heated discussion, a muddy morning on the field of honor and a solid reminder to stay out of other people’s business.

  Groaning, Henry considered the people bustling about all around him. His brother, Florian, was there, thank God. At least he would be entrusting his life into the hands of a man who knew what he was doing.

  “I am going to give you some morphine for the pain.” Florian spoke concisely. “It will probably knock you out.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Henry muttered. An escape from the agony would be most welcome.

  His brother grimaced and briefly placed his hand over his. “I am going to get you through this. You are not going to die today, do you hear?” He did not wait for Henry to respond. “Now drink this.”

  Henry did, swallowing every last drop of the bitter concoction his brother held to his lips. He felt something cool on his skin but could not figure out what it was. A compress perhaps?

  Metal clattered like fine silver cutlery placed on a tray. His eyes closed and the words exchanged between Florian and someone else grew increasingly fuzzy. The pain began to subside and he mercifully drifted off into a blissful state of unconsciousness.

  When he awoke later, the first thing he became aware of was the gentle tread of someone moving carefully about. He flexed his fingers and felt the soft cotton of a sheet draped over his body. Well, it would seem he was still alive, thanks to his brother’s miraculous efforts. And the pain . . . it was more of an ache now, which was a definite improvement.

  Hesitantly, he opened his eyes just enough to let a bit of light in. It was blinding, the sunshine spilling in from a nearby window with unforgiving brightness. He winced and immediately closed his eyes again.