The Other Duke

by Jess Michaels

  Now Emma grinned. “Yes, let us get to the something good and stop talking about nasty Cyril’s even nastier mother!”

  Heat flooded Serafina’s cheeks at the knowing look on Emma’s face. “Emma!”

  “Oh, come now. I have met the new duke and he is terribly handsome. But I know you are not keen on change, so the fact that you have moved yourself into his London townhouse rather than continuing to live at the ducal estate makes me think he is something more than you expected.”

  Serafina pushed to her feet and paced away from her friend to look out the parlor window. Thinking about Rafe was confusing, and nothing seemed to make it less so.

  “Serafina,” Emma said in an almost singsong tone. “You cannot pretend my statement away.”

  “I’m not trying to. I’m just thinking of a way to explain.” Serafina sighed. “Rafe is different than I thought he would be when we met. When I met him, I was wary, both because he is related to Cyril and also because he is so terribly handsome. He knows it too. So I assumed he would be…well, perhaps just as bad as his cousin.”

  As she turned to face Emma, her friend leaned forward. “But?”

  “But although he is a rake and a rogue and very aware of his looks and the power they grant him, he is also…”

  She hesitated, because to say out loud the things she had seen in her husband seemed too intimate. And terrifying. Because once they were said out loud, she couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel them.

  “You delight in leaving me in suspense,” Emma huffed, though her eyes twinkled with teasing. “Or are you trying to find the words again?

  Serafina covered her hot cheeks with icy fingers. “Rafe can be very kind. Even when he found out that I was not…untouched, he was never accusatory or hateful.”

  Emma’s smile fell, and she flinched. “He realized it?”

  She nodded. “He’s experienced enough, of course, that he knew. I expected judgment and even that he might despise me, but it is Cyril who Rafe despises because…because I told him the truth.”

  “The truth?” Emma repeated. “You mean you told your husband that his cousin forced himself on you?”

  Serafina nodded slowly.

  Emma’s mouth dropped open. “But you’ve never told—”

  “Anyone but you.” Serafina completed the sentence quietly. “I know. That is why we left the ducal home. Rafe didn’t want me to have to endure the memories left there for me. It was an unexpected kindness he did not have to perform.”

  Emma’s eyebrows lifted. “I see.”

  “I see? What does I see mean?” Serafina asked with a glare.

  “I have known you for almost ten years,” Emma said softly. “I know your expressions. And you have never looked so…soft…when you were speaking about a man.”

  “Soft?” Serafina barked out, panic suddenly gripping her.

  Emma shook her head. “I only mean that it appears you actually like him. Is it possible that this union with Raphael Flynn is actually a good one?”

  Serafina frowned. Once again, Emma had struck upon a topic that felt far too intimate to answer. Worse, it made Serafina think of things she didn’t want to consider. Like how much Rafe had moved her in just a week of marriage.

  “It’s certainly better than any life would have been with Cyril,” she finally admitted.

  Emma arched a brow. “That isn’t what I mean.”

  Serafina turned her face. She knew that. But she wasn’t about to address the underlying implications of what Emma asked.

  “I don’t know what else you could mean,” she said, pacing the room restlessly.

  “Rafe is a kind man, he values your needs. And is he an—an—” Her friend blushed. “An attentive lover?”

  Serafina felt hot as she thought about Rafe’s touch. Attentive was not the word she would use when describing the magnificent things he did to her, woke in her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, unwilling to say more.

  Emma smiled softly. “I’m glad. You deserve to have some pleasure after the pain you endured. But you also deserve love.”

  At that word, Serafina stiffened. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, more harshly than her friend deserved. “I may be very pleased that I have ended up with a husband I do not despise. However, I won’t be so foolish as to allow for anything else to develop between us. Love is a weakness I cannot afford and do not desire.”

  Emma shook her head. “Oh, Serafina.”

  Serafina moved forward. “I adore you for wanting what you think is best for me, I truly do. But what has made you happy is not the same that will make me happy.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “And now I must return home. The duke and I agreed to meet and discuss some of his duties after our calls this afternoon.”

  Emma looked as though she wanted to say more to her, but instead she simply sighed. “Very well. Let me escort you to the foyer.”

  Serafina nodded and when Emma had taken her feet, they walked arm and arm to the foyer. As they waited for her carriage, Serafina turned to face her best friend.

  “I hope you don’t think me harsh when it comes to my husband. It is only that our current arrangement is not permanent.” She said it firmly, but in her heart she wasn’t certain if the words were for Emma’s sake or her own. It was a reminder she felt like she needed at present.

  Emma squeezed her hands gently. “I do not think you are harsh, my dearest, sweetest friend. But I do think you are scarred by the past. I just hope you won’t let the thickness of your skin keep you from allowing someone into your heart.”

  Serafina drew in a sharp breath at both Emma’s words and the pity in her friend’s eyes. But she was spared from responding when her carriage arrived. So she merely pressed a kiss to Emma’s cheek, said goodbye and all but fled.

  Rafe looked at the clock again and then pivoted to pace across the parlor. It was a quarter of an hour past the time he and Serafina had agreed upon to return to the house, and he found himself restless as he awaited her. Not just because he wanted to see her, but because of his earlier near-death experience. It made him nervous, but also made him want to be close to her.

  As he moved to look at the clock yet again, he heard the rumble of horse hooves on the drive, and his heart leapt into his throat. It was the oddest of sensations, for he had never felt such anticipation when it came to being with a woman. Not just in bed with her, but with her.

  The foyer door opened and shut, and Serafina talked briefly with Lathem.

  “His Grace is in the green parlor, Your Grace. And tea is waiting there,” he heard Lathem say.

  Rafe was almost vibrating as Serafina opened the parlor door and stepped inside, a vision in her latest violet gown, her blonde hair framing her spectacularly beautiful face.

  In that moment, he couldn’t resist. He crossed the space between them in four long strides, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

  She opened to him right away, giving a shuddering sigh as he sucked her tongue, splaying his hand across her trembling back and feeling her melt against him.

  And yet, long before he was satisfied, she suddenly broke the kiss and stepped away, eyes wide and breath short.

  “Good afternoon, my lord,” she managed to squeak out.

  He studied her expression closely. He could see the desire lit up in her eyes, burning there just as it burned within him, but as always, her hesitation also remained. No matter how much she allowed, she always held some part of her away from him. It shouldn’t have mattered, and yet it did.

  He drew in a long breath and didn’t push her, even though he wanted to crowd into her space, wrap her against him, make her crave him until need wiped away reluctance.

  “We have tea,” he said, turning on his heel to motion to the set that had been placed on a table between the settee and a chair in front of the fire.

  She nodded and moved forward. She took the settee and he settled into the chair to watch her pour a cup. Everything about her was graceful, from the
way she lifted the pot to the way she tilted her head at him. She blinked a few times as her expression changed from one of serenity to something different, something pained.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “We have been married for nearly a week and I don’t know how you take your tea.”

  “We have been busy learning other things about each other.”

  She bit her lip. “But I should know this. After everything you’ve done for me, I should know this simple thing about you.”

  He sucked in a breath at how deeply upset she seemed to be by her lack of knowledge of such a silly thing. He covered her hand with his and whispered, “There is one way to remedy that, you know?”

  She stared at him. “And what is that?”

  “Ask me.”

  She gave him a wavering smile, and he could see she was gathering herself after her outburst. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “How do you take your tea, Your Grace?”

  He leaned back, driven to tease her a little if only to keep the conversation light. “Ah, the question at the core of every relationship in the empire.”

  Now she laughed, and the room lightened at the sound. “It is of vital importance, I agree.”

  He met her eyes, holding her stare for long enough that she shifted slightly and her pupils dilated.

  “I like everything in my life to be sweet and creamy,” he said softly.

  Pinkness filled her cheeks at his double entendre, but to her credit, she did not turn away. “Then it is sugar and milk for you, Your Grace?”

  He nodded once. “Plenty of both. I doubt there can ever be enough.”

  She swallowed hard and then dropped three sugars and a generous dollop of milk into his tea. She stirred gently before she handed the cup over. He smiled when her hand trembled slightly. Then she quickly flavored her own beverage and took a gulping drink of it.

  “And now you know something new about me,” he said with a grin.

  She nodded. “It seems I do.” She turned her face and shifted with discomfort. “We have a party tonight,” she rushed to add.

  Her words were an obvious change of subject from the one he had been dancing around.

  His pleasure faded, and he set his tea aside with a groan. “Again.”

  She shook her head, but she was smiling. “You know, Rafe, I have heard told from multiple sources that you actually like parties.”

  “I like parties with my friends. Parties where the alcohol is not watered down to nothing. Parties with laughter and genuine conversation.”

  “You are so dramatic, Your Grace.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Dramatic? I think not. I am stating what is an obvious difference between what I once was and what I am forced to be at present.”

  “I do understand the concept of being forced into a future, Rafe. Truly. And I realize you’re still adjusting to everything that has happened in the past two weeks.”

  He watched her closely. She could so easily wipe her feelings away from her face, but did she still have them burning in her heart? Hidden where she had to confront them alone?

  “I think you must still be adjusting as well, Sera,” he said softly.

  She turned away. “I was to marry a duke, and marry a duke, I did.”

  He frowned. “I would hope I am not interchangeable with my cousin.”

  She jolted, and her gaze slipped back to him. “No,” she whispered. “You are most definitely a vast improvement.” He opened his mouth to say more, but she didn’t allow that and continued, “Either way, I promise you that you will find many of the things you just described at the parties we now attend.”

  He huffed out his breath, and she shook her head with a smile. “I challenge you to tell me you did not like Lord Aldridge.”

  “I’ll grant you Aldridge, yes. He’s a decent fellow.”

  “He’s not the only one,” Serafina insisted. “But you know that. You went to school with many of your new peers. I’m certain you didn’t despise them all.”

  Rafe rolled his eyes. Damn, but she would use logic against him. “No, I admit I did not.”

  She looked him up and down. “In fact, I would wager that your charisma and charm made you a leader of many of the men who later took up titles.”

  “My charisma and charm, eh?” he repeated with a grin and leaned closer.

  She blushed once more, and he couldn’t help but think of her arching beneath him at the height of her pleasure, the same fetching color darkening her skin.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know your strengths,” she said with a shake of her head. “And that you haven’t used them in the past to get what and who you want.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose I have.”

  “And it isn’t as if you are coming in off the streets to be duke. You have already lived your life as a man of vast wealth and reasonable power. This is only a shift in that dynamic.”

  “It is just so tedious, though,” he groaned.

  She met his gaze, and her one pointed look shamed him with its underlying judgment. “I suppose your life as the idle rich might have been more fun. But you could do so much good if you will only try.”

  He watched her for a long moment. Although she maintained that serene expression that was a wall between them, he saw a flutter of desperation in her blue eyes.

  “Doing good matters to you,” he said. A statement, not a question.

  She hesitated and he could see she struggled with trusting him to say more. “It does,” she finally admitted. “I always knew it would be impossible to influence Cyril to be more than the bastard he was. If I was to do something for others, I would have to do it on my own, possibly even in secret, and with my pin money.”

  “That is probably correct,” Rafe said with a scowl. “He was always a greedy ass.”

  She nodded. “Earlier you asked me not to equate you with your cousin, but you must see that I don’t. I think you are so much more than him, Rafe. And I think if you dedicated yourself to this path, you could be even better.”

  He sighed. “It seems you have a plan.”

  Her eyes lit up at that small surrender. The expression was almost worth the pain that caused it.

  “I do!” she admitted. “I want to give you a list of those I think might be the best to make friendships with at these gatherings. Men who are not idle, but involved in the betterment of those around them. Also, men of good nature who I think you will like if you get to know them.”

  “Very well. And then?”

  “We will find a cause to support,” she said with a shrug. “Also, we will need to visit your tenants. As you know, Cyril badly mismanaged and abused them. They’ll need to meet you soon to assure them that we are not of the same ilk.”

  “We?” he said softly.

  She blinked at his interruption and then she shook her head. “I mean you. You. Obviously I will assist you in any way I can, but we will soon have separate lives.”

  He flinched at her blunt statement of that fact. Of course he knew that was her desire. He even fully understood why. And it should have made him happy to know that he could have such freedom in his future.

  And yet it did not.

  “You must also think of the future. Your children will thank you for setting their path in motion now.”

  “My children,” he repeated softly. “Our children.”

  She clenched her hands in her lap. “Yes,” she whispered.

  He leaned in once more and lightly traced her hand with his thumb. She shivered at the contact, and he thought she might give in to him. She quaked a little, but then she jumped to her feet and paced away.

  He watched her go, confusion mobbing him. This was the second time she had pulled away from him, and now he was beginning to wonder why she was so skittish.

  “Where did you go today?” he asked as he settled back into his chair and watched her stop her pacing. Her back was ramrod straight and stiff before she turned to look at him.

 
; “Why do you ask?”

  He arched a brow at her reticence to speak to him. What was she hiding?

  “Because you’re nervous,” he said, bringing the issue straight into the light. “And I want to know why. To help you, if I can.”

  She shifted, and again he saw her battling about whether to tell him the truth or not. She still didn’t trust him. Would she ever?

  Finally she sighed. “I went to see your Aunt Hesper, Rafe. And her rage was all but overpowering.”

  00

  Chapter Fifteen

  Serafina didn’t know exactly what reaction she thought Rafe would have to her admission about seeing his aunt, but his casual shrug wasn’t it.

  “Aunt Hesper has always been a dreadful old biddy,” Rafe said. “Why did you go there?”

  Serafina blinked, not entirely certain she understood the question. “She asked me.”

  He draped his elbows over his knees with a bark of laughter that made her jump. “Now that Cyril is dead and you are duchess, you are not a marionette on her strings. Refuse her if she asks you again, especially since she is unpleasant.”

  Serafina stared at him. Rafe always did what he liked, when he wanted to do it. His wealth and lack of responsibilities had allowed him to do as he wished for a long time. And the idea that she could adopt some of his laissez-faire attitude brought a thrill through her entire body.

  But he had not seen Cyril’s mother. He had not heard the venom in her tone. Serafina still shuddered when she thought of it.

  “You don’t seem to be reassured,” he said, exploring her face with those all-too-seeing bright blue eyes of his.

  She shook her head. “I am not. What I saw today with the dowager went beyond a woman venting her grief. It was different. She was…was…”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Was?”

  She swallowed. “Enraged. Violent, even.”

  That made him straighten up. “Are you afraid she might harm you?”

  She jolted at the sudden concern to his tone. He had been dismissive until he asked that question, but now he was on high alert. For her.

  “No,” she said. “Well, at least not first. I’m more afraid she might harm you.”