Desperate for a Duke

by Dayna Quince

“This is a horrible idea,” he said gravely.

  Heather nodded, not yet able to form words.

  “You must make a choice, Heather. I fear I can’t.”

  She looked up at him then, the joy singing in her veins fading swiftly. “A choice? I’ve never had a choice. This…this is something I’ve never felt before. I know I am missing something, I know what I am losing, but the duke is still my only choice. I may have nothing else, but I will have this moment. If I had a choice, Fallon, I would very much choose a man like you.”

  His eyes changed. They thundered with emotions she couldn’t identify, and Heather couldn’t look away.

  “You would choose me?”

  Heather nodded, her heart beating painfully. She couldn’t believe what she was saying, but it was the truth. “I would, but you must see that I can’t.”

  “Yes.” He backed away from her, hands dropping to his sides.

  Heather wanted to reach out to him, but she couldn’t read him. Was he upset? Hurt? “I need you to understand that my family has endured so much already. I have to do this for my sisters and my mother.”

  “Because I am only a steward,” he said.

  Heather frowned in confusion. His tone had been oddly flat. The pleasant gallop of her heart was now a painful staccato. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  He seemed to be looking down, and yet not seeing anything at all, then he shook himself and his gaze refocused on her. “Would you allow me to woo you until the duke arrives?”

  “Woo me?” Heather said in astonishment.

  “Yes, it’s all that can happen between us. It’s all I can offer you.”

  “You want to woo me?” Heather couldn’t believe her ears.

  “I want far more than to merely woo you, but as you said, there is no other choice. For a brief moment, we can pretend that what we have between us is more than just a dream. For a little while, it can be real.”

  Heather wasn’t sure if it was her heart that stopped or time, but his words resonated with a deep part of her, the part that had made her dream of him, think of him, and crave him as she had no other. Her eyes began to burn with unshed tears, and she looked down at her hands as her fingers tangled together anxiously. “Wooing. I suppose that would be all right, but what happens after the duke arrives?”

  “We will deal with it then.”

  They stood nervously apart, both yearning to touch but afraid of that yearning.

  “We should return to the house,” Heather offered.

  Fallon nodded. “Tomorrow I’m going to make a case with Lady Endervale and your mother that you will have to be excused from the festivities. I’ll make up something ridiculous that will fit in with the duke’s rumored eccentricity. We shall spend the day together, if that pleases you?”

  Heather tentatively smiled and exhaled slowly to release the emotional tightness in her chest. “That sounds lovely.”

  “Good.” He offered his arm. “Shall I return you to your mother as we said?”

  Heather placed her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. Excitement and a new emotion filled her. “No, let’s rejoin the hunt and find our group.”

  He smiled at her warmly in return. “Whatever you desire.”

  Chapter 9

  Heather let the rest of the day distract her from thinking about Fallon and what he had said. He meant to woo her. She didn’t know what that encompassed, surely not rides in Hyde Park or escorting her to the theater. So what did it mean? This she pondered as she retired to her room after a rousing game of lawn bowling. She was having fun; something she hadn’t had in a long time. She was choosing not to think about the end of the party because she had a handsome steward to think about. As she collapsed on her bed, Violet’s soft voice humming in the background, she thought of him in the gazebo—staring at her, wanting her, kissing her. She could feel the warmth of a blush filling her cheeks, but she didn’t care. She was mad—mad for agreeing to be wooed and mad for wanting him. Him!

  A steward who was wooing his employer’s intended bride. They were both insane it seemed, but Heather didn’t care. Like a thief, she was going to steal these moments and cherish them. If she had to spend the rest of her life married to a man who was as old as her grandfather, she should be allowed this time. What was so wrong with a little wooing? It wasn’t as if she would run away with him or—heaven above—allow herself to be seduced. She would allow only kisses, and perhaps allow him to hold her against him as he did this afternoon. It felt so wonderful to be held by him, caged by those strong arms of his, and pressed intimately against his hard chest.

  She sighed.

  “What was that about?” Violet’s voice broke into her fantasy.

  “Hmm?” Heather refused to open her lids. She was picturing his eyes, the kaleidoscope of sapphire and cornflower, as they had consumed her.

  “That sigh… It was a very content sigh,” Violet persisted.

  “You are in no position to judge my sighs. It was merely a sigh of relaxation,” Heather mumbled in growing aggravation.

  “It sounded dreamy,” Violet continued.

  To Heather’s dismay, she realized that Violet was quite perceptive. Heather opened her eyes and sat up. “Perhaps because I was on the verge of dreaming and would presently be blissfully asleep without your pestering.”

  Violet narrowed her eyes as she took down her hair in the mirror. “I was surprised to see you return to the hunt with Mr. Calder. You looked terribly upset before.”

  “Yes, well, he assured me he would make every effort to bring the duke before the end of the party. I realized I didn’t want to miss out on the fun, so we returned.” She kept her face turned away from her sister’s shrewd gaze.

  “He is very handsome.”

  “Beg pardon?” Heather twisted back to her sister.

  “Mr. Calder. Who knew stewards could be strapping young men?” Violet giggled.

  “What do you know of strapping young men? If Mother heard some of the things that you say…”

  “But she doesn’t. I’m sixteen. I have grown an appreciation for the male physique, and Mr. Calder has quite a pleasing one.”

  “I don’t wish to hear anymore, Violet,” Heather groaned.

  “Why not, do you not like him?”

  This felt like a test of some sort. “I find him perfectly amiable,” Heather answered blandly.

  “He likes you, you know.”

  Heather pinned her sister with a glare. “You know no such thing. You shouldn’t even say that, Violet. What if someone heard you? What would happen if gossip spread that the steward of the man I can only hope to marry likes me? You may have grown an appreciation for the male physique, but what you need to grow is some maturity. This is not a game to me, this is our future!”

  Violet grew somber. “I’m sorry, Heather. I was only trying to have fun with you.”

  “Please don’t.” Heather lay back down and covered her eyes with her hand.

  “But, Heather… I really do think he likes you.”

  “Enough, Violet.”

  “It’s the way he looks at you.”

  Heather’s pulse began to throb in her temples. “You shouldn’t pay any mind to how he looks at me.”

  “But if I notice, someone else might too.”

  Heather sat up and looked at her sister again. Violet had spun around on the stool and was watching her. “All the more reason why you need to behave as if nothing is amiss. Mr. Calder is helping me. I will have to spend lots of time with him in preparation for meeting the duke. The duke is a very peculiar man, and Mr. Calder is going to help me be everything the duke wishes me to be.”

  “Like a tutor?” Violet said in dismay.

  “Yes, like a tutor.”

  “Is all courtship like that?”

  Heather’s irritation softened. “No. You will have a season. You will dance in grand ballrooms and go to the theatre. Gentlemen will drop at your feet as easy as the leaves in fall. They will send you flowers in the
morning and beg to take you in a phaeton for a drive around the park… That is what courtship will be like for you.”

  Violet wiped away a tear and sniffed. “But not for you?”

  Heather simply shook her head. “Not for me, darling. But don’t you worry about that. I will have a grand time watching you find the man of your dreams.”

  “As a duchess.” Violet attempted a smile.

  Heather laughed. “With ropes of diamonds around my neck and a ridiculous feather in my hair.”

  Violet stood and presented her back to Heather. Heather was silent as she undid the buttons, and her sister slipped out of her dress and crawled under the covers. “Thank you, Heather. I shall name a daughter after you,” she said sleepily.

  Heather smiled and rubbed her eyes. She wanted to laugh and cry. Would jewels and fancy feathers replace the feeling of a passionate embrace? She was suddenly not tired, and she couldn’t sit for one more minute pretending she was perfectly fine with her chosen path. “I’m going to find Mother and ask if I can wear her peacock shawl to dinner.”

  “Mm-hm,” Violet mumbled with her eyes closed.

  Heather hurried from the room, taking the servants’ stairs one flight down to the hall she hoped harbored Lady Endervale’s sitting room. Heather prayed a certain steward had work to do after spending the afternoon playing lawn games. The hall was empty since all the guests had retired to rest before dinner. She tried to remember her surroundings from last night, but it had been dark then, and now the hall was filled with afternoon light.

  She was almost to the main stairs when she stopped at a closed door that look familiar. Should she knock? What if it wasn’t the right room? She took a deep breath and turned the handle, prepared to pretend total confusion about her location. The door opened and she saw him at the desk, a letter in his hand. He looked up in utter surprise. Heather bolted into the room and closed the door, leaning against it with relief.

  “Is something wrong?” He slipped the letter in a ledger as he stood.

  “No, I…uh.” She pushed away from the door and bit her lip. All she wanted to do was run into his arms, perhaps even cry. “Am I interrupting you?” She inwardly cringed. She was obviously disturbing his work.

  He slowly came around the desk, and before she could find a word to utter, he was before her. He brought a hand to her cheek, his large hand cradling her jaw. He took her mouth without question, stealing her wits from her with the seal of his lips. This is exactly what Heather needed, no more thinking, only feeling. She opened her mouth eagerly, hungry for the taste of him that was still so new, and the rush of liquid heat that would spread over her skin like bath oil. He didn’t disappoint. His tongue thrust into her mouth, exploring and teasing. A moan escaped her. He pulled away, and she shivered as she sucked in a breath and looked into his eyes.

  “Was that what you wanted?”

  She nodded, a sensual smile curling her mouth. His eyes darkened with desire, the vivid blue now midnight. He walked around her, trailing his hand across her lower abdomen. He stopped behind her and swept curls aside that had fallen to her shoulder. He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. “Is that all you wanted?”

  Heather shook her head. Her breath was coming in excited little pants as anticipation skittered over her nerves. His arm snaked around her waist, and he pulled her back against him. His other hand, he brought slowly up to on her collarbone. He dipped his head and set his lips to the sensitive skin behind her ear.

  Heather gasped in shock and pleasure as goose bumps erupted over her arms. She shivered but was far from cold. His lips tickled in a wicked way, and she fought between the urge to squirm or press herself harder against him. She chose to remain still, afraid of where this moment would lead, but also desperate to let go of her fear and just live. She was tired of being afraid. Fear had been ruling her life for so long, and right now, she wanted this moment to be free of it. That is why she sought him out, she realized. Even though he caused a cascade of turbulent emotions inside her, with him she would never know fear, with him she could break through the boundaries that had held her prisoner for so long.

  She moaned. It was unbidden, a release of all her pent-up frustration. He stilled, but then his hands began to move with determination, and Heather cared not where they went but only what they made her feel. The hand on her collarbone slid down over her bodice in a light brush first, and then returned to settle over and cup her breast. Heather arched instinctively, pressing herself into his hand. The hand that had been so still on her hip slid down, fingers pressing into her skirt, searching for the natural hollow of her body and pressing firmly.

  Heather jerked in surprise, the unfamiliar touch and jolting pleasure something she had not experienced before. She never knew her body could feel like this and that a man’s hands could do such delightful things. He moved his fingers, sliding them against her, and Heather closed her eyes tightly as all her senses focused there. She gave herself over to the pleasure, slipping from her mental moors and sinking into the moment like a rowboat with a leak. Pleasure filled her, pulling her deeper as the weight of it overcame her, and she sank into its depths.

  His hand squeezed her breast firmly, and his wicked fingers slid inside her bodice to tease her skin without barrier. She gasped then bit her lip, her excitement and eagerness burning through her veins. His full hand now cupped her breast, skin to skin, and he squeezed her nipple between his thumb and index finger. Heather cried out, the pain and pleasure of it breaking over her as she pressed her hips back against him, feeling the strained muscles of his thighs.

  He groaned in response and came around her to push her back against the door. Heather’s eyes dragged open, and she took a much-needed deep breath, but then he was there again, pressing his hard body against hers. He stole her mouth in a vicious kiss. His knee burrowed between her legs until she widened her stance. She could feel him against every inch of her body, feeling the firm ridge of his manhood against her stomach.

  The tiniest sliver of panic formed, reminding her of the unknown world that she was charging into. She resisted it, still unwilling to invite fear into this moment that was just hers and his. She mentally pushed it away and took another deep breath, taking immense pleasure in the way her breasts pressed into his chest. He was so strong and safe, a guardian against the reality she wanted to forget—for just a little while, she reminded herself.

  His hand came back to her breast, roughly pulling her bodice down until her breasts fell into his hands like a gift. They both looked down, and Heather blushed, a pang of modesty urging her to look away from her nakedness. She looked up into his face and her breath caught. He had such wonder in his eyes, reverence she would even say. Confidence swelled within her, and she reached up to touch his cheek. He looked up and met her eyes, and this time it was she who kissed him—voraciously, just like in her dreams, as if she knew what she was about.

  Both his hands cupped her breasts this time, molding them as if he were sculpting art. Heather kissed him until her lungs begged for air and she broke away.

  “Tell me to stop, Heather.” His voice was strained.

  Heather loved the sound of it. That womanly confidence surged again, and she shook her head. “Please don’t stop.” She pushed her head back against the door in anguished impatience.

  “I must, little flower. I mean to woo you, not seduce you. What kind of man would I be otherwise?”

  Internally, Heather screamed in frustration, but he was right, damn him. What was she becoming? She blushed shamefully, tucking her chin down to avoid the humiliation of meeting his eyes and having him see too much. She nodded and untangled her hands from his cravat, righting her bodice once more. He still held her, but there was an invisible distance between them—his self-control, it must be. After a moment, he stepped away, and Heather could look up at him with a semblance of integrity.

  “You are right, Mr. Calder. I suspect you are right quite often.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched
up into a half smile.

  “I should be going.” She pushed away from the door and turned to open it.

  “I will see you at dinner, but I look forward to tomorrow.” He held the door for her.

  Heather didn’t look back as she made her way to her room. What am I doing? She was lost in her feelings, a compass with no arrow to give her direction. But Fallon seemed to know, and for some unfathomable reason, Heather wanted to trust him with everything. She returned to her room on wobbly knees and collapsed on the bed. Violet slept soundly, thankfully. Heather closed her eyes, wrestling with her thoughts and emotions until she was able to fall asleep.

  She almost slept through dinner, frightening her mother into a stern order to return to bed with a supper tray to regain her energy. Mr. Calder had spoken to her about the rigorous interviewing he would be conducting over the next few days, and her mother insisted Heather take every needed moment of rest to present her best self. Heather smiled. “Yes, Mother.”

  Rigorous interviewing, indeed. She and Mr. Calder were given free rein to spend hours together, a positively scandalous notion, all in the name of procuring a duke. What was society coming to? Heather sighed blissfully as she sank deeper into the pillows later that evening. Violet was given the honor of taking her place at dinner, giving Heather peace and quiet with her own thoughts.

  Heather was going to be wooed.

  Finally!

  After going to bed early and rising with the sun, Heather was fresh and bright as she entered the breakfast parlor. She avoided looking for Fallon, her cheeks already warmer at the thought of him. She was just finishing her cup of tea when he approached and advised her that she would need to change into her riding habit, if she had one, to assess her riding skills. Heather nodded and hid a smile behind another pretend sip of tea. “Yes, Mr. Calder.”

  “Good. I shall meet you in the foyer in a quarter hour.”

  Lady Everly beamed as Mr. Calder took his leave.

  “Riding must be an important skill to the duke. Perhaps he is in exceptional health, despite his advanced age.”