Falling Into Bed with a Duke (Hellions of Havisham)

by Lorraine Heath

  MINERVA was sitting in the morning room scribbling down an array of notes when her parents entered.

  “We’d like to have a word,” her mother said.

  “Now is an absolutely perfect time as I need to speak with you as well. I’ve given it a good deal of thought, and I’ve decided to go to Texas to look more closely into this cattle venture that I want to convince the fellows is worth investing in with me. I’ve worked it all out. I’ll hire a companion and—”

  “Minerva,” her mother said, settling onto the sofa beside her while her father took a nearby chair. “Texas is so far away.”

  “I’m not moving there forever. I shall be home by Christmas. It’s just that based on my numbers, it’s a wonderful opportunity to branch out, to not be so dependent upon what we can earn here in Britain.”

  “You’ll have to talk with your father about that. He’s the one with the head for business.”

  She looked at the man lounging in the chair as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Jack Dodger had never been one for formality. “Would you be interested in investing, Father?”

  “Will it make money?”

  “It should, yes. A good deal, as a matter of fact.”

  “I’ll think about it, but first I need to speak with you about a decision I’ve made—with your mother’s blessing.”

  She released a laugh that didn’t sound quite like herself. “All right, but you both look so deadly serious. Has something happened?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes,” her father said. “I’ve decided to rescind the offer of a dowry.”

  It felt as though he’d punched her. “Why?”

  “Well, for one thing, you said you weren’t going to marry, so it’s not as though you need it.”

  “That’s true enough. Don’t suppose you’ll see your way clear to loan me some money so I can invest in this cattle venture I’m so set on?”

  He waved a hand. “If you want it, you can have it. I’m talking only about your dowry.” Leaning forward, he planted his elbows on his thighs. “I may have done you a disservice by offering it, by making it so large. I’m afraid men haven’t been able to see beyond it to you.”

  “We don’t like the notion of your not marrying,” her mother said. “Of being alone.”

  “I’m not alone. I have friends. And I have family. I don’t need a husband to complete my life. So take the dowry. I have no problem with that. It’s not as though a man will marry me without it. And I don’t want to marry a man who”—she swallowed hard, the words difficult to say—“needs it.”

  “Like Ashebury?” her mother asked.

  “Like any number of men,” Minerva said impatiently. “As for Ashebury, I’m quite over him.”

  Smiling, her mother squeezed her hand. “I’m glad to hear that, as he’s joining us for dinner this evening.”

  Traitor was her first thought, but she didn’t voice it aloud. After all this was her mother, the woman who had brought her into the world. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I thought it would be nice to hear about his travels to Africa.”

  Unbelievable. Minerva scoffed. “If you want to hear about Africa, invite one of the other hellions. But I see no reason to burden us with a deceiver such as Ashebury.”

  “Yet Ashebury is here, isn’t he.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Minerva had heard through the grapevine that Ashebury had left the city. “You mean in London?”

  “No, well, he’s in the residence, so he’s technically in London. He’s waiting in your father’s library.”

  Minerva leaped to her feet and glared at her father. “You let him in? You welcomed him? Knowing that I despise the man, that I find him despicable?”

  “He brought his photographs,” her mother said as though that made everything all right. Why were mothers—including hers—so willing to forgive the hellions all sorts of bad behavior?

  “He will not be staying for dinner.” In a rush, she pushed past her mother and headed for the door. “He will not!”

  “I don’t think she’s as over him as she thought,” she heard her father say. She seldom was out of sorts with her parents, but at that moment, she was furious. She was not only going to travel to Texas, she was going to move there.

  Seething, she marched down the hallway. How dare he show up here! In her home, in her sanctuary.

  The library doorway was open. She swept through and staggered to a stop at the sight of him standing at the window. He looked awful, completely, absolutely awful. As though he’d gone without sleep, as though he’d lost weight.

  Yet at the same time he somehow managed to look wonderful, completely, absolutely wonderful. Immaculately groomed, his clothing pressed to perfection, everything in order. And he smelled wonderful. Sandalwood mixed with his own unique scent. She had not stopped as soon as she should have because she was near enough that she was able to detect its presence, could see the crystal blue of his eyes, could see not a whisker. He’d shaved before he came over.

  “So I understand you’ve been invited to dinner,” she said tartly.

  “It was kind of your mother to ask.”

  “I’m rescinding the invitation.”

  “I thought that you might.”

  “If you were any gentleman at all, you wouldn’t have accepted it.”

  “Except that I wanted to see you more than I wanted to be a gentleman.”

  She slammed her eyes closed. “Don’t.” Opening her eyes, she glared at him. “Don’t say all the right things that are designed to make a woman lose her head. They won’t work on me, and they are a total waste. I’ve just been informed that my father has withdrawn my dowry, so you will need to search elsewhere for your funds.”

  “I know about the state of your dowry,” he said quietly. “I asked him to take it away.”

  In confusion she shook her head. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because as long as you had it, you wouldn’t believe that it was possible that I wanted you more than I wanted the fortune.”

  “But you need the fortune.”

  “I need you more.”

  “You can’t mean that. Your estates, your legacy—”

  “Can go the devil.” He grimaced, shook his head. “They won’t. I’ll make sure they don’t. You were wrong when you said that I didn’t care about my responsibilities, that I squandered my inheritance. The estates were not bringing in the income they once were, so I made some investments that, unfortunately, proved to be unwise.” He walked to the desk, placed a slip of paper at its edge, picked up her father’s pen, dipped in an inkwell, and held it toward her. “Write down three numbers, small ones, in a vertical line that I can tally.”

  “I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

  “Just do it. Please.”

  With an impatient sigh, she walked to the desk, snatched the pen from between his fingers, and redipped the pen in the inkwell. She looked at him askance. “You seem to have recovered from my knee’s causing you to double over.”

  “I’m surprised you were able to maneuver so well.”

  “I’d left my petticoats at the dressmaker, so I had more room to maneuver. I was hoping for a chance to deliver a decisive blow.”

  “You’re a bloodthirsty wench.”

  “You shouldn’t be surprised. I told you that first night that I would take joy in killing a man who hurt me.”

  “So you did. Three numbers.”

  She did as he requested.

  5

  7

  9

  Putting a finger on the edge of the paper, he dragged it closer to himself and stared at it. Closed his eyes. Opened them. Squinted. “I can’t tally them. In my head, all I see is chaos. I know they are numbers. I know they form a sum. But I can’t understand them. And I can’t explain why I have such trouble with them. Lord Marsden told me my father was the same way. Numbers made no sense to him. He trusted Marsden. I only found out a few days ago when I went to Havish
am. I’ve been too proud to admit that I have this difficulty. So when my man of business gathered information on various investments, I had him explain the risks verbally, I listened to his recommendations, and I made what I thought were the best choices. What he considered an acceptable risk, had I been able to analyze the numbers, I might not have. When I returned to England, I discovered the investments were losing money and, with very little income at my disposal and a ghastly amount of upkeep needed on my estates, I had very little left in my coffers.”

  “How can you not understand numbers?”

  “I’m at a loss, Minerva. Although I feel stupid, I’m not. I master other things. But numbers baffle me.”

  She sighed. “So you lost your fortune and decided you needed to marry a woman with a substantial dowry. And you pursued me.”

  “Not exactly. I met a woman at the Nightingale who intrigued me. Then I discovered her at a party and was further taken with her. The fact that she had a dowry hardly mattered. I wanted to get to know her. Then I fell in love with her. I didn’t realize it until she walked out on me.”

  With his declaration, Minerva’s heart slammed against her ribs. She had longed for a declaration of love, and yet she was hesitant to believe them. He’d studied her book. He knew the correct things to say. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to toss them back into his face. Rather, she needed to remind him of the reality of the situation. “Except now she doesn’t have a dowry.”

  He grinned. “But she knows how to invest. I have a little capital. Whether or not she marries me, I want her to help me rebuild my fortune.”

  “Perhaps we could stop talking about her as though she weren’t in the room?”

  His smile grew. “Will you help me figure out what I need to do to get back on my feet?”

  “I suppose I could see my way clear to do that.”

  “When I have no need of a dowry, will you marry me?”

  She cradled his jaw. “Ashe—”

  “Tell me what I must do to convince you that I love you.”

  “I want to believe you. It just seems too incredible to me that someone like you could love me.”

  “Because you don’t see yourself as I do. Here, I want to show you something.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew a small rectangle, and handed it to her.

  It was a photograph of a woman sitting near a pond. Her face revealed such strength, such character, such invincibility, and yet there was a vulnerability to her as well, a delicateness—

  It took Minerva a moment to realize that it was her, the photo he’d taken of her beside Lovingdon’s pond. “I’m actually quite pretty. How did you manage to make me look pretty?”

  “You are pretty. You’re more than pretty. But I used shadows and light to reveal what I see when I look at you. True beauty can’t exist without both.”

  “What about the photo you took of me at the Nightingale?”

  “I didn’t take it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it was just for me. Sometimes, something is just so perfect … perfect isn’t the right word. It’s more than that. Transcendent. It feels as though it would be a sin to capture it. But whenever I think of charred remains or mangled bodies … I think of you, with your long legs and your small feet, stretched out on the bed waiting for me—it overpowers the images that have lived with me for so long. It makes them nothing. They fade away quietly, no longer screaming for attention because they won’t get it, as I have something so much better. Or at least I did before I botched things up. I had you, Minerva. And I desperately want to have you again.”

  She, who never cried, was feeling those burning tears once again. “Ashe—”

  “I can make do without a dowry. I can’t make do without you. Even if you don’t love me—”

  “I do! I tried not to, but I can’t stop thinking about you, missing you, wanting you. Yet I’m afraid that these feelings aren’t real. The love we both claim. What if it’s pretense, like Lady V?”

  “She’s not pretense. She’s simply another part of you. Minerva, almost from the beginning, I knew who you were. Everything we had at the Nightingale, we’ll continue to have. Everything we had outside the Nightingale, we’ll continue to have. We’ll have it all.”

  And she believed him. The truth was there in his eyes, in the way he smiled at her. “I love you, Ashe.”

  The look he gave her melted her heart. It was the sort of look for which she’d waited six Seasons. It was the sort of look that promised an eternity of happiness. “Although I’d rather marry sooner than later.”

  “How does the end of the month suit you?” he asked.

  “People will think we were forced to marry.”

  “We were—because we couldn’t stand to go a night longer without each other.” He drew her in close. “Keep the knee down.”

  Before she could assure him, she would, he took her mouth and kissed her as only a man who was in love with her could.

  Chapter 21

  MISS Minerva Dodger’s upcoming marriage to the Duke of Ashebury was the talk of London. Especially as it became evident whenever they were seen together that they were madly in love. Minerva, who usually hated the gossip rags, suddenly found herself enjoying them very much.

  But more, she’d enjoyed preparing for her wedding. She wasn’t at all nervous that it was almost time for her to head to the church. Rather, she studied her reflection in the cheval glass, loving the way that her gown of white Honiton lace and pearls molded to her body. Orange blossoms circled the crown of her veil, holding it in place. Wearing the gold anklet, she jangled just a tiny bit when she walked.

  “You look beautiful, Minerva,” Grace said as she adjusted the train.

  “I do rather, don’t I? I knew love was worth waiting for.”

  “I told you that you would find a man who loved you.”

  “I still have a difficult time believing it sometimes.”

  “But you’re happy.”

  “Immeasurably so.”

  A knock sounded on the door. Grace opened it, and Minerva’s father walked in.

  “Fathers need a moment with their daughters on their wedding day. I’ll be waiting downstairs,” Grace said before slipping out of the room.

  “You’re as beautiful as your mother,” he said.

  Minerva gave him a teasing smile. “I always thought I more closely resembled you.”

  “You have my dark eyes, but other than that, you are your mother.”

  “I have your head for business.”

  “But you have her backbone. Are you sure you want to marry him?”

  “Very sure. I love him, and he’s not going to like this, but I want my dowry back. I was so busy searching for someone to love me, to prove he loved me, that I didn’t realize it was enough that I loved him. I don’t want him to have to sell his treasures or be burdened unnecessarily because his investments didn’t pan out. I know he loves me with or without my dowry, but more importantly, I love him. I want him to have the funds you promised.”

  “They’re already in his bank account. It’s your wedding present. I intended for you to find out in a few days when his man of business pays him a visit to give him a report on his finances.”

  In spite of the fact that she might wrinkle her gown, she wrapped her arms around her father’s shoulders and hugged him tightly. “I love you so much.”

  “Always remember, Minerva, I was the man who loved you first.”

  “I know.” The tears fell, and she didn’t bother to stop them.

  “Don’t cry. I can’t stand it when a woman cries.”

  With a laugh, she shoved away from him. “I know that as well.”

  He turned away, but not before she saw dampness in his eyes. “Let’s get on with it,” he said. “It’s not every day I give my daughter away.”

  “You’re not giving her away. She’s still yours.”

  With a smile, he glanced back. “That she is. That she will always be.” Reaching toward her, he lowered
her veil over her face. “Lucky man, him and me.”

  Lucky girl, she thought, to have the love of two incredible men.

  THE wedding was grand, more than Minerva had ever expected. The church was packed, the reception following well attended. Ashe had looked so handsome standing at the altar. The expression on his face as she neared—how had she ever thought that he didn’t love her?

  Now she waited in her bedchamber for him to come to her. The gaslights burned low, chasing away the shadows. She wore a silk nightdress, the gold around her ankle, and—

  The door opened. Her breath caught at the sight of her husband in a silk dressing gown. He looked at her. Laughed.

  “Oh, no, we’re not having that.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from smiling as he strode across the room. Reaching behind her head, he untied the ribbons and tossed the mask aside. “That’s better,” he murmured, just before taking possession of her mouth.

  They’d managed to sneak in a handful of kisses during the past month, but she had wanted to wait for more until their wedding night. Now they would have all the time in the world to be in each other’s arms. He peppered kisses over her face, along her throat. She sighed, whimpered.

  “My wife,” he murmured.

  “Your wife.”

  He stepped back, untied the sash on his dressing gown, and shrugged out of it. Her breath caught at the sight of him, her mouth went dry. “I’m going to learn how to use your camera.”

  He grinned. “Not tonight.”

  He walked over to the bed, climbed onto it, and sat back against the headboard, his arms behind his head.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Take off the nightdress … slowly. I want to watch the light touch every inch of you.”

  “Do you?” she asked, as she sauntered nearer to the side of the bed. She was amazed she could be this comfortable with him on her wedding night. On the other hand, it wasn’t as though she was a virgin. Very slowly, she released a button. Then another, another, watching as his eyes darkened into a smoldering haze, his body tightened, his breathing shortened. When the last button was released, she skimmed her finger along her torso between her breasts. His breath caught.