Compromising the Duke's Daughter

by Mary Brendan

  His reply had taken a long time to arrive and did not satisfy her. ‘And your mother?’ The raw emotion in his eyes made a sharp breath abrade Joan’s throat. Just for a moment pity and disgust seemed to vie for dominance, then the look was gone...replaced by his customary sardonic expression.

  ‘Let’s not talk of families...let’s concentrate on us.’ Drew strolled slowly closer. ‘You just said you wanted to discuss Stokes’s mischief.’

  ‘Stokes will expose me as your paramour unless I pay him.’ Joan’s cheeks tingled in embarrassment as she loosely paraphrased the villain’s threats. From beneath her lowered lashes she studied Drew’s strong athletic physique. He was dressed as he had been that morning, although a leather riding coat partially covered his fine tailoring. They had been talking for some minutes and he seemed to have conquered his annoyance at finding her so deep in the woods, now he was here to protect her. She knew he had genuinely been concerned for her safety and welfare and her heart warmed to him further because of it. But she was surprised that he’d not immediately wanted to discuss Stokes’s villainy.

  A suspicion pricked at her mind. ‘Have you already done something to stop Stokes blackmailing me?’ His slight nod caused exasperation and great relief to wash over her. ‘I didn’t go out for some hours after you left my house, yet you knew your intentions straight away, didn’t you? You should have sent your note sooner; it would have saved you the bother of coming here at all. Why did you not?’ She gazed up into eyes the colour of molten molasses.

  Drew raised a finger to tenderly trace the curve of her profile. ‘If you don’t know the answer to that, my lady...’

  ‘I can guess, but I want you to tell me,’ Joan breathed.

  ‘If you want me to admit that it took me a long, long time after we parted to conquer my desire to be alone with you like this...’ he smoothed a stray curl back from her forehead with a tender finger ‘...very well...I am weak...I made a grave mistake in not sending that note sooner. But the craving for you never leaves me.’

  Joan felt a surge of joyous relief that he also felt the compulsion for them to be together despite the risks. ‘There must be more between us than that, you know. I don’t just want kisses from you...’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Drew murmured ironically as the finger fondling her skin became more erotic. ‘There’s certainly more I want to do than kiss you.’

  Joan was acutely aware that he was now so close their bodies were touching. A hint of sandalwood on his freshly shaven jaw teased her nostrils, tempting her to sway against him. She knew she had only to angle her face up in wordless appeal and his mouth would take hers, transporting her back to that world of feverish delight that had been locked for too long in her memory. But she’d meant what she’d said about needing more from him. And she must understand herself better, too.

  On their first encounter the Squire had been unkempt in appearance and churlish in manner. Joan could clearly recall how brusquely he’d addressed her and that an essence of sweat and leather had remained long after he’d sprung from their coach.

  At one time it would have been inconceivable that she’d find a street fighter appealing. Yet the unashamed ruffian had held an irresistible fascination from the start. The Squire was the character who’d awoken her to sensuality, not the suave gentleman with her now. Whoever he was, she knew she’d fallen in love with him. But she wasn’t sure she had his trust, or trusted him, and without something so fundamental to happiness there could be no future for them, even should he offer her one.

  ‘I met your niece by chance when out shopping,’ Joan rattled off. ‘We had a long talk and that’s why I didn’t have time to return home before travelling here.’ She paused. ‘Cecilia confided in me about your feud with your sister and Stokes. I didn’t let on that I already knew.’ Joan noticed his eyes narrow in immediate interest. ‘Cecilia said you’d paid her mother a visit recently.’

  ‘Yes...I did...’

  ‘Have you let Luke assist you financially so you might fight back against her swindle?’ Joan asked eagerly. ‘You appear quite the eminent gentleman again.’ Her admiring gaze flowed over his elegant attire.

  ‘I’m glad you approve.’ Drew’s gracious dip of the head was vaguely ironic and made her blush. ‘As for Luke, I’ve no need of his help.’

  ‘Somebody else has helped you?’

  ‘In a way...’ Drew replied softly, nuzzling her cheek.

  ‘In what way?’ Joan persisted, although the sensation of a warm mouth tracing her skin was making it hard for her to concentrate and keep her eyes open. She was determined to have her answers before his kisses drugged her into a state of mindless bliss. On the last occasion his hands and lips had worked their addictive magic on her body she had felt as though she’d lost her reason. She took two firm steps back. ‘Please answer me or I will think you do not like or trust me enough to tell me.’

  ‘There’s no benefit in you knowing about it and I’d sooner you did not until the time is right,’ Drew said mildly.

  ‘The time is right!’ Joan countered. ‘You owe it to me to be open about things. I’d never have become embroiled with odious Mr Pryke or risked life and limb being out in dreadful weather had I not wanted to help you get back on your feet. And, it seems you have.’

  ‘I’m humbled and grateful for what you have done for me. But there was no need for it, as I told you at the time. You’ve nothing to worry about where Pryke’s concerned. He won’t bother you or your father again. He’s left town.’

  ‘Has he?’ Joan gasped. ‘What have you done to him? You’ve not...’ She bit her lip, unable to voice a suspicion that he might have fought with the investigator to make him flee.

  ‘I’ve not harmed him, but he deserves punishment. He’s escorting my sister and Cecilia to my hunting lodge in Devon and will stay there with them until I summon him. Punishment, indeed it will be, when you consider my shrew of a sister’s nature and that he’s getting no fee for putting up with her.’

  Joan’s lips parted in surprise. ‘Your sister has agreed to leave Stokes and go into exile?’

  ‘She wasn’t keen on the idea, but she’ll fall in line rather than join her lover in gaol. Bertha’s first consideration when under fire is herself.’ Drew paused. ‘She is a survivor...it is perhaps the only trait we share.’

  ‘Has Cecilia agreed to go?’ Joan burst out. ‘She’d elope with Mr Laurenson if she could, she told me so earlier. I know she ran away once before and you had trouble bringing her home.’

  A corner of Drew’s mouth quirked on hearing that understatement. ‘My niece knows that I have her best interests at heart. But you’re right...the little minx proved to be a handful to control when I brought her home after she absconded with Robbie.’ He consulted a gold hunter taken from his coat pocket. ‘The rig I hired for them will have just started out for the West Country.’

  ‘You sound as though you were quite tolerant of the elopement.’ Joan said in surprise.

  ‘I was angry at the time...but I understood why she was desperate to get away.’

  ‘She must have loved Robbie very much to risk doing that.’

  ‘It was infatuation on her part and he offered her a way out of an intolerable situation.’

  ‘What sort of situation?’ Joan knew her blunt questioning was impertinent. ‘I’m sorry; I don’t mean to pry, but it seems we are now talking candidly and you know all of my secrets.’

  ‘And they are safe with me, I swear,’ Drew said throatily. ‘Come...it’s time to go. You shouldn’t be loitering in such a place as this.’

  Joan pressed her lips together in exasperation as he started to approach his horse. So he had chosen to simply walk away from a difficult question. And he obviously didn’t trust her. And that, she thought to herself, was rich, considering she had always been open and he had been the one holding back.
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br />   ‘How do you plan to get Stokes committed to gaol? Are you more adept than he at deceit?’ she jibed.

  ‘Being duplicitous is a necessary evil at times,’ Drew returned drily.

  Joan skipped to catch up with him. ‘At one time I pitied Drew Rockleigh for his kin. But the Squire and Bertha Denby are similar people, aren’t they? I wonder that your niece likes you as much as she does. Has she also been confused as to your true character?’ Joan fell abruptly silent as Drew turned and came towards her so fast that she took two clumsy steps backwards to escape him.

  ‘My niece likes me because I’m the one who cares about her and she knows it. After you spoke to Cecilia in town she would have gone home and read the note I left for her. She trusts me to put things right and that is why I know she has gone away without a fuss. Do you trust me to put things right for you, Joan?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Joan cried in frustration. ‘I’m not sure I really know you.’

  Drew threw back his head and barked a harsh laugh, the taut planes of his face and his flaxen hair lit by filtering sunbeams. ‘You’re quite right; you don’t really know me at all and you should be thankful of that.’

  ‘Tell me something then and let me make up my own mind!’

  ‘It’s time to go.’ Brusquely, Drew beckoned her, intending to help her mount his horse.

  Stubbornly Joan backed away from his outstretched hand; she was exasperated, but decided to try another tack. If they continued to bicker she’d never have answers, so offered an olive branch instead.

  ‘It was good of you to bring Cecilia back when she eloped, considering Stokes is her guardian.’

  ‘It was Stokes who caused her to bolt in the first place.’

  ‘You told Cecilia to heed my advice, so you must think me sensible.’ Joan smiled winningly, then recalled something else that had cropped up in her conversation with his niece. She was in two minds about mentioning it, but decided to do so, believing that Drew sincerely had the girl’s best interests at heart. ‘Cecilia wants me to contact Henry and arrange a meeting between them in the hope he’ll propose.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want you to get involved in that,’ Drew smoothly interrupted.

  Joan’s hackles stirred at his authoritarian tone, but she said lightly, ‘I’m flattered that Cecilia likes me enough to enlist my help. It is a shame you do not feel the same way.’

  Drew slanted a mordant look at her indignant face while tightening his mount’s saddle. ‘You know I like you...’

  ‘But...’ Joan prompted. She realised he was in the throes of a dilemma over whether to say something crucial. ‘Can you not at least satisfy my curiosity over Stokes causing his ward to run away?’

  ‘He tried to marry her off to a rich widower and she got wind of it.’

  ‘Oh, how awful.’ Joan frowned; the poor girl seemed to attract the attention of old lechers. ‘Are you aware that Lord Regan has shown a very...odd...interest in your niece?’ Joan grimaced. ‘Gossip has started about it.’

  ‘Yes...I know.’ Drew turned away from the stallion, massaging the nape of his neck with long fingers. If he divulged one aspect of his sister’s venal character one thing would lead to another. Joan would keep probing until the root of the matter was exposed. And he didn’t want her to know all of it. He couldn’t bear to see the shock and disgust in her eyes when she finally understood who he really was and where he’d sprung from.

  ‘You know?’ Joan sounded disbelieving. ‘If you care for Cecilia, you surely won’t allow that old roué to pursue her? At least the other one was a widower; Lord Regan’s wife is still alive.’

  ‘He’s not interested in her in that way,’ Drew said hoarsely.

  ‘You obviously have not seen the way his lordship favours her,’ Joan returned pithily.

  ‘Lord Regan is her father.’ A mirthless laugh scratched at Drew’s throat. ‘Leastways that is what he has been told. Whether it is true or not...’ He shrugged.

  Joan gasped in astonishment. ‘I see...’ she finally murmured, then fell into a thoughtful silence for some moments. ‘It makes better sense of why his wife appears tolerant of Cecilia.’

  ‘With no official heirs I imagine the woman has accepted her husband wants to believe Cecilia is his and ignores him fawning over her.’

  ‘Cecilia obviously doesn’t know and you are not sure you believe it, are you?’ Joan cocked her head to gaze into a pair of narrowed eyes. ‘You think it to be another plot, a money-spinner dreamt up by your sister?’

  Drew smiled wryly as he watched her pearly teeth nibble at her lower lip and her brow furrow with the ferocity of her concentration. ‘Should the detective agency need a new recruit in Mr Pryke’s absence, I imagine you would fit the bill.’ He approached her, placed a finger against her mouth as it immediately formed another question. ‘Come...it is time to go. Your family will have missed you by now.’ The digit brushed softly to and fro on warm skin, parting her lips.

  Instinctively Joan let her tongue tip meet the tantalising forefinger, recalling how she had done something similar to encourage his caresses in the coach on that stormy night.

  The magpie squawking overheard jolted some sense into Joan, but when she would have pulled back Drew slid his hand to her nape, caressing the smooth skin and lowering his dark head close to satiny curls peeping from beneath her bonnet’s brim.

  ‘God, I’ve missed you. Do you know how often I’ve thought about what we did that night, sweetheart? There’s unfinished business between us, Joan, and I can’t let go of the memory of it.’ He loosened her hat, pushing it back so it hung on its ribbons against her shoulders. His mouth plunged to cover hers, hot and demanding, before swooping to her throat to feast on warm pearly flesh. Then he was again hungrily plundering her lips, tasting her cheeks and eyelids as though he would devour all of her.

  Joan swayed towards him as his hands slipped between the edges of her cloak to grasp her narrow waist, drawing her against his solid frame. They travelled upwards, the calloused palms seductively circling her small warm breasts. Overwhelmed by heady emotion, Joan wound her arms about his neck. ‘I’ve missed you too, Drew, so very much because...I love you,’ she blurted, having tossed caution to the wind.

  Drew became still as the sweet-breathed words were gasped against his cheek. Gripping her shoulders, he gave her a little wakening shake, making her drooping eyelids fly open. Then he strode away from her, five fingers forking his fair hair off his forehead as he cursed at the branches above.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Joan asked quietly, coming up behind him. ‘I want you to kiss and touch me... I love you...you must know that,’ she said shyly, her racing heart trembling her bodice. She prayed that he would say he loved her, too. But he didn’t and she took an unsteady pace back, feeling humiliated.

  ‘You’re thinking of Constance,’ Joan whispered. ‘I know she’s your mistress. I should be sorry for wanting to steal you from her, but I’m not. I want you to love me, not her,’

  Drew swung about to pull Joan close, his mouth descending to capture hers in a forceful kiss that drove her scalp against his forearm.

  ‘It’s not thoughts of Constance that torment me,’ he murmured, soothing her bruised lips with a stroke of his thumb. ‘It’s thoughts of you...wanting you and knowing I’m not worthy to touch the hem of your skirt.’

  ‘But you are! I know you are.’ Joan’s slender fingers shaved his abrasive cheek. ‘You have recently lived amongst vagabonds, but I understand the circumstances that forced you to it. If anything, knowing you’ve suffered degradation yet stayed so gentleman-like makes me love you more.’ She angled her face to watch his expression as she said, ‘I do not despise the poor, please believe me when I say so. I have always cared about improving the plight of people with so little and will happily get my hands dirty in the doing of it. I met you on just such a mission when
returning from teaching children at the vicarage.’

  ‘You looked wholesome enough to me,’ Drew said, but there was a throb of amusement in his words.

  ‘I was covered in chalk dust,’ Joan protested, but was soon again serious. She clasped her fingers over his lean jaw so he could not avoid her eyes. ‘You must explain to my papa how you have been swindled; he will not judge you badly. He will see for himself that you have stopped street fighting. I will endorse every word. Papa is a fair man and will accept the truth—’

  ‘If your father knows the truth, he’ll ban me from your life and I wouldn’t blame him,’ Drew interrupted bleakly. ‘There is no future for us, Joan,’ he added hoarsely, striding away from her. ‘Once I have dealt with Stokes I plan to leave town. Forget about me. I’m not the person you think I am. If you really knew me, you’d not have come here today.’

  ‘I would have! I know that I am perfectly safe here with you.’ Joan had followed him, frowning. ‘What else is there to know? I am not a snob, so don’t think that of me. I’d still be teaching your neighbours’ children to read if my father hadn’t interfered. I think he pulled strings and had the school closed.’ Joan sighed. ‘I am cross with him about that and when he is well enough I’ll tell him so, and that I intend to take up teaching again.’

  ‘It wasn’t your father’s doing; it was mine. The man you saw me with in the park was the bishop’s clerk. I arranged to have the school closed.’

  ‘Why? How?’ Joan demanded, veering between astonishment and annoyance.

  ‘I wanted to keep you safe...and I wanted to keep you from coming back there and finding out things about me that I didn’t want you to know.’

  ‘But by then I’d already discovered that you were a street fighter,’ Joan argued. ‘And Pip knew the route then so we would not have got lost again. There was little risk involved.’

  ‘You’re always at risk when you’re close to me, don’t you understand...’ There was a frustrated groan in his throat as he swung away. ‘Come...I’ll take you back to the road.’