If the Duke Demands

by Anna Harrington

  Until Richard Carlisle became a duke. Then the rowdy, unmanageable brothers became more serious, especially Sebastian, who as the heir had always felt the weight of the responsibilities he would someday bear. He’d paid her scant attention before; now that he was the duke, he barely noticed that she existed at all.

  “Miranda,” he sighed patiently, “I can’t think of any good reason why you’d be in Robert’s bed.”

  She grimaced. “No, of course not—I mean— Oh, blast it!”

  She didn’t care that she’d cursed in front of him, especially since the Carlisle brothers were the ones who taught her to swear when she was a child. Especially since Sebastian would never have seen her as a demure, polite society lady in the first place. And especially since she knew he wouldn’t care that she’d made such a muddle of things tonight.

  But she also knew that he fiercely protected his family and that he wouldn’t let her leave until she explained what she’d planned for his brother.

  So she grimaced in defeat and admitted softly, “Robert’s going to offer for her, I know it.”

  “Who?” he puzzled.

  “Diana Morgan.” Her eyes blurred with a hot mix of anger and humiliation, and her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of it. “General Morgan’s daughter. He invited her to the house party, and he’s going to court her this season in London.”

  “What does that have to do with— Oh.”

  “Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh. Tonight was my last chance to be noticed by him as someone other than a friend. So I wore this costume.” She gave a hopeless wave of her hand to indicate the dress that now crumpled with wrinkles from him lying on top of her. Good heavens, how could something cost so much when there was so little to it? “And the only person who saw me in it was you. No one important.”

  His mouth twisted dourly. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, you know what I mean!” Her hand darted up to swipe at her eyes. “But I thought that if Robert could see me like this then maybe…just maybe he’d…” She shrugged a shoulder, feeling utterly pathetic. “Notice me.”

  “But…Robert?”

  With a cringe of humiliation, she shoved him away to scramble off the bed. She barely remembered to snatch up her mask before rushing past him toward the door.

  A sob strangled in her throat. What a horrible, horrible night! All she wanted to do now was flee and never again show her face at Chestnut Hill, or in Islingham Village, or anywhere in England for that matter, so she wouldn’t accidentally run into Sebastian. Or Robert, because Sebastian was certain to tell his brother about this. Oh, what a hearty laugh the two of them would—

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her back toward him.

  Set off-balance, she stepped backward, and her legs tangled in the gauzy skirt. She fell against him, and his arms went around her to steady her.

  Fresh mortification heated her cheeks. She’d tripped in front of him like some graceless dolt, then fell right into his arms. So pathetically. Her eyes blurred. Tonight was proving to be nothing but one humiliation after another.

  “Let me go,” she pleaded.

  His arms stayed firmly around her. “Miranda, I am sorry.” His apologetic voice was surprisingly kind. “I had no idea that you…”

  Raising her gaze to his, she steeled herself against the pity she knew she’d see on his face.

  What she saw instead was incredulous curiosity. “I’m just surprised,” he explained gently.

  Her throat tightened. Surely he hadn’t meant that as an insult, but when heaped on top of the other humiliations she’d experienced tonight, his words hurt. “Surprised to find me in your room?” She stuck her nose into the air with a peeved sniff. “Or surprised that I might possibly have feelings for your brother?”

  “Yes,” he answered honestly, “to both.”

  With an angry groan, she pushed against his chest to shove herself away.

  He took her shoulders and held firm, his solid body not budging an inch. “And, frankly, that you would want Robert in the first place instead of some nice man from the village.”

  She bit her lip to keep from screaming. Was that how all the Carlisle men saw her? As a silly country gel destined to marry a boring vicar or farmer and spend her life polishing church pews or chasing pigs on a farm? Was that the best they thought she could do with her life? Oh, she wanted so much more than that! She wanted adventure and excitement, a large family of her own to love, and a home right here in Islingham, surrounded by the people she loved and would do anything for. She wasn’t daft enough to think that she could marry someone of rank, like a landowning gentleman or a peer.

  But the brother of a peer…

  Yet if Robert thought no more of her than Sebastian did, then he would never notice her as a woman with whom he could spend the rest of his life, and everything she’d gone through tonight was a thoroughly humiliating, horrible waste of time. And money. She might as well have been placed on the shelf tonight and marked Do Not Touch, because her life as she wanted it to be was irrevocably over.

  She turned her face away, blinking hard. She wanted to laugh! And cry bitterly.

  “For what I did earlier,” Sebastian apologized as he sucked in a deep breath, “I am truly sorry.”

  Yes, she supposed he was, now that he knew it was her and not some temptress he thought had wantonly sneaked into his room for a night of bed sport with the duke. After all, he hadn’t appeared particularly apologetic when he’d been pulling up her skirt.

  He squeezed her shoulders in a gesture of friendly affection. The same hands that moments before had been caressing her naked breasts and had her liking it, that even now sent tingles through her—

  “Oh God, no!” She pressed her fingers to her lips with horror at her sudden outburst—and even more horror at herself for liking the way he’d touched her. Sebastian of all men!

  “Pardon?” He frowned, bewildered at her behavior.

  “I mean, no apology is necessary. It was nothing.” She stepped back, and this time he let her go. “A mistake, that was all. And I would greatly appreciate”—another step away, because if she kept putting steps between them she could reach the door and flee into the hallway before the tears overtook her—“if you would kindly keep what happened here tonight a secret.”

  “Of course,” he agreed solemnly.

  Embarrassment burned her cheeks. “I mean it, Sebastian. If you tell anyone, especially Robert or Quinton, I’ll…I’ll…”

  “You’ll do what?” he challenged at her weak attempt at a threat and lowered his head to bring his eyes level with hers. Drat the man for being so tall! And so…duke-like.

  She boldly stuck up her chin as inspiration struck and blurted out, “I’ll tell your mother what really happened to that Chinese vase your father gave her for Christmas!”

  For a moment he stared at her blankly, simply unable to fathom her. Then his eyes narrowed, as if he were sizing up an opponent in Parliament instead of the annoying gel from next door, and he drew himself up to his full height…So very tall. Odd, how she’d never noticed that about him before. Or how much more solid that very tall body was than Robert’s, or how his golden hair fell rakishly across his forehead and made her want to brush it away.

  It was amazing, the details a woman noticed about a half-dressed man after he’d had his mouth on her.

  “Do we have an agreement, then?” she pressed.

  A lopsided threat at best—her reputation for a vase that had met its shameful demise years ago during a secret spread that the brothers had thrown while their parents had been away in London. But his mother had loved that vase, and Miranda wasn’t afraid to use it to her advantage.

  “Agreed,” he said.

  Thank God! She turned toward the door, taking a deep breath to run—

  He reached over her head and pressed his hand against the door to keep her from flinging it open. “Wait.”

  Wait? Her heart skipped, then thudded so hard in her chest that she win
ced. The infuriating man was also terribly cruel…Wait?

  When she looked over her shoulder at him, she thought she saw his gaze dart up from her breasts. But that was impossible. Sebastian wouldn’t be looking down her dress like that, not now. Now when he knew who she was…would he?

  But when he reached back for the jacket he’d tossed over the chair and held it out to her, she rolled her eyes, feeling like an absolute cake. Oh, he’d been looking at her breasts all right…and pondering a good way to hide them.

  “Best not to be seen sneaking out of my room, Lady Rose,” he cautioned. “In that dress.”

  She slipped on the jacket, and knots tightened low in her belly when she breathed in the scent of him wafting up from the superfine material. She bit back a defeated groan. Of course he would have to smell good.

  Then he gestured for her mask, and she handed it over. He lifted it into place and tied it behind her head. When he rested one hand on her shoulder while the other slowly cracked open the door, the heat of his fingers seeped into her skin, all the way down her front to her breasts. Beneath the gauzy costume, her nipples tightened traitorously at the memory of his hands on them.

  At that, her stomach plummeted, her humiliation complete. Even her own body was conspiring against her tonight by fraternizing with the enemy.

  He peeked past her into the hallway, then lowered his mouth to her ear. “Go down the back stairs to the ground floor. The downstairs hall will be empty and dark by now. Go out through the terrace door in my study, and stay close to the garden wall where the shadows are darkest until you get past the stables. And don’t let anyone see you.” His deep voice tickled across her cheek, and she shivered. “Especially my mother.”

  “How do you know so much about sneaking out?” she asked in a whisper, surprised by the detail of his instructions.

  He answered with a sultry chuckle that rumbled through her. “Because I’m a Carlisle brother.”

  When she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, his hand slapped against her bottom. She jumped.

  “Go!”

  She stepped into the hall and fled from Chestnut Hill as fast as her feet could take her. Her bare feet. Groaning at her own foolishness, she rolled her eyes because she’d left her slippers behind in his room. And there was no going back for them.

  Ever.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lady Rose.

  Sebastian frowned. What had Miranda been thinking last night?

  But that had always been the problem with her, he decided as he stared out the window of his study across the sweeping front lawn as the last of the house party guests set off in their carriages to return home. She rarely thought before leaping, and last night, she’d nearly leapt herself right into the fire. He frowned irritably. Into his fire.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  He blew out a harsh breath and ran his hand through his hair. Christ, what had he been thinking?

  She’d surprised him to the core when he’d walked into his room and found her there, draped so delectably across his bed in that silky crêpe and lace confection that barely covered anything and so reminded him of a frosted cake that he found himself salivating to lick the icing from her. He should have known he wasn’t fortunate enough to have such an alluring beauty offer herself up so freely like that on the night of his mother’s birthday party, but good God—after a suffocating sennight of being forced to be the perfect peer, quashing every impulse and urge to be as unrestrained as his brothers and actually enjoy himself for once, he’d yearned to taste just a bit of the wildness he used to have.

  At that moment, with a night of freedom being offered to him so temptingly, he simply hadn’t cared how she’d gotten there. Or for that matter her true identity beneath the mask. All that mattered was once again being able to enjoy himself. To peel her dress away until she was naked, then cover her body with his and—

  “Sebastian!” A half-eaten breakfast roll hit him square in the back.

  He wheeled around, a sharp curse on his lips for his youngest brother, Quinton, who balanced on his lap a plate half-filled with his third helping of breakfast and held a second roll in his hand, ready to fire off at any moment.

  But next to his brother sat his mother, and the concerned look she gave him silenced him immediately. “You were lost in concentration,” she said gently, worry lacing her voice. “Didn’t you hear me calling to you, dear, when we came into the room?”

  Sweet Lucifer, he hadn’t. “No,” he admitted grudgingly. Running a hand through his hair, he drew a deep, patient breath. Lady Rose had managed to distract him from his own family, which no woman had done since the night his father died. But then, no other woman in his bed had ever been Miranda Hodgkins.

  The gel was an absolute menace.

  Forcing a relaxed smile, he walked back to his desk. “My apologies for being distracted.”

  Quinn and his mother sat in two chairs on the other side of the massive piece of mahogany-inlaid furniture where his late father had managed their estate of Chestnut Hill, then in more recent years where he’d also overseen the newly awarded dukedom whose lands had once belonged to their former neighbor, the Earl Royston, along with the manor house of Blackwood Hall and its holdings. And all of it now fell to Sebastian to manage.

  His brows drew together as he pushed all thoughts of masquerades and the sweet scent of rosewater from his mind to concentrate on the reasons his family had been summoned together in his study. “I was watching to make certain that the last of the party guests set off without any problems,” he explained.

  Not exactly a lie. Technically, Miranda had been a party guest, although she lived on one of the estate’s tenant farms with her aunt and uncle. And she’d been sent off last night with many, many problems in her wake.

  “Shall we start, then?” Elizabeth Carlisle smiled patiently.

  Sebastian couldn’t help but return her smile. With her golden blond hair and luminescent skin, even after a late night at her own birthday celebration, his mother was beautiful in the slant of sunlight that fell through the window onto her lavender morning dress. His heart tugged for her, and a familiar knot of grief tightened in his throat. Nearly two years had passed since his father’s unexpected death, and although she was officially out of mourning, she still preferred to wear lavender in the mornings. A part of her would always grieve for his father, just as he knew she would never remarry. Theirs had been a true love match, and Elizabeth Carlisle would never take another man into her heart the way she had his father.

  He cleared his throat and nodded at the empty chair beside her. “Should we wait for Robert?”

  The middle Carlisle brother was most likely still outside saying his good-byes to Diana Morgan and her parents. General Morgan had been invited to the house party because he was an old friend of Richard Carlisle’s from their army days, yet the attention Robert had paid to the man’s daughter had surprised the entire Carlisle family. Especially his mother, whom Sebastian knew was torn between encouraging the match and convincing the poor girl to flee for her life.

  Mother shook her head. “He’ll be here as soon as he can.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “No need for him to be rude to the Morgans by hurrying them along.”

  Sebastian crooked a brow. So his mother had come down on the side of the match after all. Poor girl, indeed.

  “Then let’s begin.” He sat behind the desk and settled in for the meeting. “We need to discuss the family’s plans for the upcoming season.”

  Normally, family business wasn’t conducted so formally. All of them preferred instead to discuss their plans casually during dinner or over coffees in the drawing room afterward, then be content to let Sebastian take care of all the details. But this season’s difference filled the air with a crackling electricity, and he wanted to make certain everything went smoothly in London for them. For once.

  He owed it to his mother as well as to the title—and especially to his father’s memory—that thi
s season the Carlisle brothers didn’t behave like…well, the Carlisles.

  They’d terrorized the Lincolnshire countryside since they’d first learned to walk, then moved on to plague Eton and Oxford in turn. So it had only been a matter of time until the three of them focused their attention on London, where the whiskey was stronger, the card games played for higher stakes, and the women were decidedly more sophisticated. Until four years ago, what they’d done in the city hadn’t mattered much, with their family having almost no social standing among the quality despite their father’s barony, leaving them free to gamble, brawl, and chase women to their hearts’ content.

  Then everything changed. His family was granted the former Earl Royston’s estate when the earl committed treason. At first, their family received only the land, not the title, but when the Regent was petitioned by Edward Westover, Duke of Strathmore, and Lord Bathurst, Secretary of State for War and the Colonies, both men made clear exactly how much the Carlisle family had participated in exposing Royston’s treason and in preventing the slaughter of the War Office’s best agents overseas. Prinny relented and bestowed a new dukedom.

  Overnight, the Carlisle land holdings more than quadrupled in size, and their modest wealth became a fortune. No one could overlook the three brothers’ antics now, and whatever anonymity they’d had as sons of a baron disappeared as sons of a newly minted duke. Sebastian knew even then what the others had yet to realize.

  What Prinny had granted wasn’t an award but a punishment.

  Then the worst came. His father was tossed from his horse, struck his head, and died. The loss had been devastating to all of them, and their grief had been debilitating for months. But Sebastian didn’t have time to flounder. All the responsibility for the estates and the family had landed directly on him, and he worked his way through his grief by working his way through the estate books.

  Nearly two years had passed, and not one day had yet dawned when the family didn’t feel Richard Carlisle’s absence. So the house party they’d held during the past sennight—the first soiree of any kind since Father’s death—signified more than his mother’s birthday. It was also a marker of all the changes their family had endured during the past few years and survived. And privately, Sebastian hoped they could once again focus their attention on the future and on protecting the reputation of the family. Especially from themselves.