A Duke for the Road

by Eva Devon

  He’d never know and if he asked, he felt certain Heath would lie.

  “I’m retiring,” Rob said.

  Heath lowered his quill and looked up, exposing steel grey eyes beneath jet-black brows. “Indeed? That calls for celebration, I hope.”

  Rob nodded. “It does.”

  Heath leaned back, his powerful shoulders rolling under his fine coat. “And what has brought about such a life-extending thing?”

  “I’m to be married.”

  “Felicitations.” Heath snapped his fingers and one of the men at a long table slipped a bottle of champagne from a sideboard.

  It was tempting to say it was too early, but turning Heath’s hospitality away would be the height of rudeness.

  The champagne flowed into twin Venetian glasses and Heath stood, a good six feet tall with those shoulders that would terrify a bull.

  While the man looked like he could knock another man’s head off, Rob had never seen him violent. In fact, Heath was a model of complete control.

  “So, you’re to hang up the mask,” Heath said, holding the delicate glass with refined ease.

  Rob gave a wry smile in response.

  “I’m glad,” Heath said with little emotion. “You were wearing it too long. You have to know when to quit.”

  “Like you?” Rob asked.

  “Like me,” Heath agreed. “Most of my friends didn’t stop and, well, they paid the piper at Tyburn.”

  “Speaking of your old friends,” Rob ventured, “I had an encounter with another highwayman.”

  Heath smiled slowly.

  “You already know.”

  Heath laughed, a dark rolling sound. “There’s not much I don’t know. He wants your blood.”

  “Should I be concerned?” Rob asked.

  “Of course,” Heath said easily. “A man like that? He won’t be satisfied until his honor, whatever the hell that is, is satisfied.”

  “All the better that I’m retiring then.”

  “Yes,” Heath agreed without further comment.

  “I’ll be able to pay the debt at the end of the week.”

  Heath nodded, pleased. “Lady Harriet does have a fine settlement, does she not?”

  Rob wiped a hand over his face. “Christ, you do know everything.”

  “I’ve eyes and ears all over.” Heath cocked his head to the side, studying him. “And you are one of my concerns, after all.”

  “So, we are of an accord?”

  Heath nodded. “Yes. You watch out for your sister though, you hear me. That one has a strong sense of duty.”

  Rob narrowed his eyes. He knew Heath had met her, but he’d never felt that he knew her well until now. “I will. You like her, don’t you?”

  “Lady Mary?” Heath queried, his eyes shuttering. “Who wouldn’t? She’s a bit of a milksop at first glance, but she’s got backbone that one.”

  Rob couldn’t hide his smile at Heath’s assessment of his sister. “Yes. She’s stronger than most.”

  “She’s had to be,” Heath said factually.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” He wished to hell it hadn’t been so. But he could not undo what had been done.

  “So, we shall see you no more in the East End?”

  “No. There’s no reason.” He took a drink of the bubbling liquid, ignoring the sting as it passed the cut inside his mouth. “It’s time for me to fix all that my family has broken.”

  Heath stopped and cocked his head to the side. “Don’t try to fix it, Your Grace.”

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, stunned by the odd comment.

  “You can’t,” Heath said flatly. “What’s broken is broken.”

  “You suggest I abandon it all?”

  Heath shook his dark head. “Make something new. Forget the past. The past will drag you down and strangle you in the dark. You’re born anew with your marriage. Never forget it. And don’t let the chance go. You won’t get it again.”

  Heath swallowed the rest of his champagne and put the glass down on his portable desk. “Now, I’ve a pair of lords upstairs still gambling. Time to see if one of them is going to blow his brains out or if everyone is still in a decent humor. Stay as long as you like, Your Grace. My home is yours.”

  It had been here where he’d first felt some freedom when the great yawning hell of his father and brother’s actions had hit him. It was here where Heath had treated him like a man and saw his dilemma and given him an option to stay afloat.

  And it was here that he knew that, deep in his heart, he would never be like one of the men upstairs gambling everything away, risking it all for absolutely nothing. But he also felt hollow, a fake. He was never supposed to have been the duke and, in all truth, standing here, ready to hang up his highwayman’s mask and take up the mantle of a great man, he had no idea where to begin.

  Worse still, it seemed it would all begin with the marriage to a young woman who deserved so much more than him.

  Chapter 20

  It was remarkable how one decision, one series of events in quick succession, could entirely change one’s life. Harry found herself wondering if she and her mother had taken a different route home from the card party and not needed rescue from a highwayman, would she have pursued Rob alone? Repeatedly? She doubted it.

  Unquestionably, she would still be attending balls and fetes as a debutante collecting posies and calling cards from potential suitors. Of course, she had not been interested in a single one of them. No, she had to be intrigued by the one who apparently had no wish to marry her, claimed he wasn’t a good person, and did not want children.

  It had never really occurred to her to question the having offspring. For many reasons. Being the second child in a large and affectionate family, she was accustomed to the closeness such a thing brought. She adored her brother and sisters, the way they teased each other, caused trouble, and ultimately supported each other.

  She couldn’t imagine not having siblings.

  Frankly, she had always imagined herself surrounded by children. She adored babies, as there had been several of them as she’d grown up.

  There was nothing so wonderful as a baby’s first smile, its face learning to make cheeky expressions as it discovered the world. It seemed she was not to know that. Which she could barely fathom.

  No children.

  Could Rob truly mean that?

  Surely not.

  But his emphatic tone had been unshakable in the coach and it explained why he had been so determined that he was not the man for her.

  His wishes were different than hers. Yet, she’d never felt as drawn to another man as she was to him.

  It was far too cruel.

  “My dear, are you ready?”

  It seemed only moments ago that her mother had peered in on her on the night of her first court ball. Now, she was to be married in a chapel in Town. And then, she and her husband were going to be riding off to his estate to avoid some of the scandal that had already begun to blossom within the ton.

  After a few weeks in the country during the summer, which was most unusual for a duke, they would return and give a triumphant ball.

  Or at least, that was the plan that their mothers had laid out upon learning of the state of things.

  She would never quite forget her mother and brother’s faces when she had returned home from the opera.

  Her brother had looked as if he was about to suffer apoplexy and stormed out of the house.

  Her mother on the other hand. . . had looked at her, smiled gently and, much to her shock, had whispered, “I always knew it would be Rob.”

  Those fateful words had shaken her. She clung to them now.

  “I suppose I am ready,” she replied at last, turning away from her looking glass.

  “They are all downstairs,” her mother said, an assuring smile on her beautiful face.

  “How does he look?” Harry queried, her stomach in knots.

  “Your future husband?” her mother asked.

  She n
odded.

  Her mother laughed gently then replied, “Like someone has killed his dog.”

  “Marvelous,” Harry drawled.

  “It’s to be expected, I suppose. Men never particularly like being pushed into marriage.”

  “I didn’t push him,” Harry pointed out.

  “No,” her mother agreed readily. “His honor and your brother did that. Nonetheless, here we are.”

  “Is it too late to turn back?” Harriet asked quietly.

  “Turn back?” Her mother stared at her for a long moment. “If that is what you wish, my darling girl, I will take you to the Continent myself and support you with my own funds. We will find you a house in Venice or a cottage in Salzburg and you can live out the rest of your life quietly. But it will be almost impossible for you to come home.”

  Tears stung her eyes at her mother’s passionate yet kind words. She did not miss the truth in them. If she were to come home again having not married the man who had ruined her, her family would be rocked by scandal which, of course, her brother and mother would weather. But her sisters. . . her sisters would be forever tainted by her actions.

  “Do you like him?” her mother asked pointedly.

  “I do. I do like him,” she said truthfully.

  “Then that is a beginning.”

  “But Mama—” She gulped, hardly daring to speak the truth.

  “Yes, my darling?” she asked, patient.

  Harry bit her lip then blurted out, “He doesn’t wish to have children.”

  Her mother stilled. “He told you this?”

  Harry nodded.

  “Why did you hide this?” her mother asked, her face quite serious.

  “I suppose I kept hoping this would all resolve some other way. . . or that he might visit me and assure me all would be well.”

  But he hadn’t. Rob had avoided her steadfastly, having only sent a small, green velvet box with an emerald surrounded by diamonds for her to wear. There hadn’t even been a note.

  “He is young yet,” her mother said resolutely. “Give him time. Who knows what he will think in the future. A duke must have an heir, after all.”

  But there was the crux of it. She felt certain in her bones that Rob was determined to never, ever have an heir. What had happened that had made him so terrified to have children of his own?

  Somehow, she would find out, and then perhaps. . . perhaps, she could change his mind.

  But what if she could not?

  She would face that when she had to. That was the only thing she could do.

  Standing slowly, Harriet smoothed her hands down her ice blue silk gown. “We best not keep them waiting. Harley will have a fit if he thinks I’m not going through with it.”

  Her mother smiled sadly. “Your brother has embraced being the head of the family with a touch too much dedication.”

  It was true. For all that her brother was a handsome rake who was one of the most fashionable men in London, he held his family to the highest standard and would let nothing hurt them.

  It was both his dearest and worst quality.

  Her mother took her hand and squeezed it. “You are going to be a wonderful duchess, my dear, and a good wife.”

  “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered, confident she could be one of them. . . and certain that Rob might not let her be the other.

  Chapter 21

  “You’re bloody well going to make her happy.”

  Rob adjusted his cravat. “So you’ve said.”

  “Several times,” said Royland, groaning as he stared down the small chapel’s nave.

  “Is she coming?” Raventon asked, peering down the narrow way between the pews. “She’s late.”

  Harley’s face darkened. “She’s coming.”

  “Calm down, old boy. No need to pop off yourself before you’ve procured an heir,” Drake drawled.

  “This is not how I imagined my sister’s wedding,” Harley gritted.

  “I’m surprised you imagined it all,” Raventon said, shuddering. “I’ll likely have to beat whoever my sister chooses bloody just so he understands the stakes if he so much as musses a hair on her head.”

  Harley sighed. “It was tempting to do such a thing. But. . .” He stared at Rob.

  “You still have a few moments,” Rob said. “She’s not here yet.”

  “No blood,” Royland said. “We haven’t time to clean the floor.”

  Drake’s lips twitched but then he frowned. “Good God, I hate weddings.”

  “Thank you for that cheery declaration,” Rob said, wishing he’d gotten drunk before his own wedding. It would have been terribly bad form, but this whole day felt like hell and, really, he wasn’t sure how he was going to get through it. How did he explain that it was the very fact that he cared about Harriet that this was all so terrible?

  A wife he held no affection for? He could have just established the sort of unattached marriage they were to have from the beginning and, having attained a duchess’ coronet, she would have no doubt been completely at ease with the affair.

  But Harry?

  Harry was altogether different and he felt sick. Perhaps, he really should have flown to parts unknown to avoid her unhappiness, but the damned truth was that after that glorious exchange of their bodies in the coach, there had never been a pathway to happiness for them. It was unfortunate that their moment of bliss had occurred before the wedding.

  But then again. . . she was going to be his wife. That meant she would share his bed. And there were all sorts of things they could do without risk of a child.

  “What the devil are you smiling about?” Harley demanded.

  “It is my wedding,” he pointed out.

  “That’s no excuse,” Harley retorted.

  Rob sighed. “Where the devil is she?”

  “She’s here,” Harriet announced from the back of the nave.

  Rob swallowed and swung his gaze to meet his future wife’s.

  He had not seen her since she’d descended from the coach that night.

  It had all been arranged through notes and Harley.

  What a dry, cold affair it had been. But now. . . here she was and as much as he wished to withdraw, the very sight of her warmed his blood.

  Sunshine fell upon him and like a long English winter feeling the first touch of spring, he felt himself awakening. Harriet came forward, her soft blue silk gown rustling over her long legs and hugging her bodice. Pearls hung about her neck and glowed in her curled tresses.

  Everything, all his worries, all his doubts, faded away as he met her bright, witty gaze.

  She did not seem afraid or doubtful. Rather, she strode down the narrow aisle like an Amazon might into a court full of men. Proud, strong, beautiful.

  And then when she came beside him, she looked up at him and winked. She winked.

  “Hello, Rob,” she whispered. “How very nice to see you in good health. I’d feared you’d broken your hand or foot.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Well, you have not visited me or written me,” she teased. “I assumed you’d been horribly wounded. A curricle accident perhaps? Accidental bear mauling? An altercation with a set of stairs?”

  His lips twitched. “As you see, nothing has befallen me.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Except marriage. Shall we get to it?”

  He barely knew what to say, so he nodded. And at that very moment an old fellow in purple bumbled to the altar. Squinting behind a pair of wire spectacles, he asked dryly, “And where is the happy couple?”

  “Here, Your Grace,” Harley said to the bishop, pointing at Rob and Harriet.

  The bishop toddled over to them, his brow furrowed with deep grooves. He pulled out his prayer book and began thumbing through. “Now, let me see. What page. . . I always forget which page the wedding ceremony is on.”

  Royland leaned forward and whispered a number.

  “Hmm. Thank you, Your Grace.” This bishop gazed about. “My there are quite a few
graces about are there not? And soon to be one more?” The bishop laughed at his own joke.

  They all stared at the old man and Rob was certain he smelled brandy.

  Rob held back a snort. Marvelous. Just bloody marvelous. The bishop was drunk when he was sober. Was there no justice in the world?

  The question was an absurd one. He knew very well that, no, justice was not something that ruled anyone’s life. One could strive for it, but it was not inherent. One had to make justice happen.

  “Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today for the union of. . .” The bishop blinked at his page then looked up. “I say, what were your names again?”

  Harry’s mother let out a note of frustration from her pew which everyone but the bishop heard.

  Harriet’s lips twitched and Rob felt his heart do the strangest thing. It. . . danced.

  Some women would be in tears or furious that their wedding had taken such a turn. But Harriet? She was amused.

  Harley leaned in to the bishop, whispering their names.

  The bishop nodded then took in a deep breath. “Dearly beloved—”

  “You’ve done that bit,” Drake said sotto voce.

  “Hmmm?” the bishop murmured.

  “Perhaps we should just skip to the I dos,” Drake said with a dose of weary arrogance. “Then we can move on to the celebrations.”

  The bishop smiled. “Oh. Well. If everyone is so very eager.”

  Rob bit back a guffaw. It seemed the bishop was as eager as they were to move on to the champagne.

  “Do you Lady Harriet Cornwall take this man to be your husband. . .”

  As Rob stared down at Harry who had turned towards him, the bishop’s words faded away and he could think of nothing but the turn of her head, the pink of her cheek, the berry red of her lips, the soft curve of her bosom under her perfect, striped blue silk gown.

  Her lashes were perfect crescents against her pale cheeks and her hand fit perfectly in his.

  In any other set of circumstances, this would be heaven. Truth be told, in this moment, standing with her, the sense of dread which had entrapped him almost vanished entirely.

  For Harry was happiness walking. How many people could boast such a thing?