Desperate for a Duke

by Dayna Quince

  Heather shivered. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked around the room. Everyone would expect her to just accept her good fortune and move on, her mother included. That was exactly what she should do, but something inside her hesitated. This was her Fallon, and yet...not. She felt like she didn’t know him anymore; the last few days were just an extension of the wool he had pulled over her and everyone else’s eyes. Worst of all, there was nothing she could do about it. She longed to throw all his promises back in his face. Surely, they were as false as the character he had played? How could she marry such a man? Did she even have a choice anymore? An image of Lord Brightly popped into her head, holding her mother as they danced. Fear claimed her thoughts. No, she had no choice. Her father and Lord Brightly had made sure of that.

  She could feel his presence behind her like a looming shadow. He remained perfectly still, the tension as tight as the strings on a harp.

  “Will you still marry me, Heather?”

  She felt the barest touch of his hand on her back as he stepped around to face her. Heather kept her head down, frustrated and angry tears colliding within her lashes. He touched her chin and forced her to look up at him.

  “Will you be my wife?” he asked tenderly.

  “I don’t have a choice, do I? We’ve spent hours alone together, we’ve—” She swallowed a rise of emotion, her throat stinging.

  “I confess that was an oversight on my part. I can’t think straight when I’m around you. Tell me I haven’t ruined everything we’ve shared. Tell me you will be my wife.”

  Heather wanted to sob out the pain in her heart. Instead, she took a deep breath. “You’ve ruined me. I have to consent to be your wife for the sake of my family’s honor.”

  His brow furrowed in distaste. “That was not the response I was looking for.”

  Heather shrugged weakly. “It’s all you’re going to get from me.”

  He growled and turned away, then spun back around and glared at her. “Don’t play the martyr. Am I really such a bad bargain? A duke over a steward?”

  “It isn’t about station, Fallon, it’s about trust. You lied so easily and thoroughly. You made me believe things. You made me fall in love with someone who doesn’t exist.”

  “I do exist!” he shouted and was as surprised as she was by the sudden outburst. “I…I am who I am regardless of my title. Do you not see that? Would you not have spoken differently, acted differently if I’d presented myself as the duke? You saw the real me—the man that I am, and I know the real you because I was only Mr. Calder and not a bloody duke in your eyes.” He took a deep, shuddering, breath.

  Heather could visibly see him rein in his temper. She felt a pang of guilt, but buried it beneath her own fury. She was surprised by her own admission. She hadn’t thought she could fall in love, but there it was. The words had sprung from her of their own accord. And what’s more, he had bared a little of his own pain for the briefest of moments.

  “My apologies,” he said, once again calm and in control. “I am the same man, Heather. You will see that in time. I understand that you are upset. I will allow you the time you need to come to terms with it, but we shall move to London immediately—your mother and sisters included—to head off the rumor mill. We shall make my presence and our betrothal known before the gossip mongers can get hold of any whispers from the other guests.”

  Heather nodded. More rumors. Would they ever stop? Her lungs ceased to work as she considered her own secret. Her father had killed himself after losing to Lord Brightly. Should she tell him? Would he change his mind if she did? As angry as she was, she still needed him; her family still needed his protection. Whose lie was worse, hers or his? That thought paralyzed her.

  He was silent for a moment then stepped before her again. He brought a hand to her cheek as gentle as a butterfly touching a flower. “Should we seal our betrothal with a kiss?”

  Heather didn’t respond. He dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers, and she almost cried out in agony. She wanted to feel what she always felt before. Instead, she felt even more anger but this time toward herself. Her lips held rigidly closed as he sighed and pulled away.

  “You will forgive me someday. The sooner you do, the sooner we can enjoy what we had before.”

  Heather wished that could be true, but right now she was torn in half. She left him standing in the middle of the room without another word.

  Chapter 14

  Fallon could sum up their return to London in one word: frigid. Heather hadn’t said a single word to him. Lady Everly had given up all attempts at conversation minutes into the journey, and Heather’s sisters had sat in awkward silence, sharing wide-eyed glances in some sort of nonverbal sisterly communication. They finally arrived at the townhouse, and after tense introductions to the butler, Cantour, and a handful of other staff, they were shown to the drawing room where they would be served a late lunch.

  Lady Everly and Fallon discussed their arrangements and decided Fallon could not remain in the house. That suited Fallon just fine. He sent Faegan to reserve rooms at the Fairmont Hotel, the newest luxury hotel in London. Word would spread quickly there was a new Duke of Ablehill, especially with the added enticing crumb of his recent engagement. In Lady Everly’s opinion, the only way to minimize the scandal was to control it from the beginning.

  “It would be best to go for a drive in the park, perhaps you and Heather could stroll along the serpentine, while the girls and I wait in the carriage and talk with the other matrons along the line.”

  “Oh joy,” Violet mumbled.

  “You are welcome to join us, Vi,” Heather offered quietly.

  “No, she isn’t. You two must be seen as a couple,” her mother quickly interjected.

  “We will need to visit a modesty as soon as possible to repair our wardrobe. You should as well.” She gestured to Fallon, who looked down at his clothing.

  “Yes,” Lady Everly continued, “it is perfectly serviceable clothing, but you should dress befitting your station. We cannot have anyone doubting that you are the new duke.”

  “I will send Faegan out again as soon as he returns to book appointments for you”—he gestured to all of them— “and myself, this very afternoon. My title should be good for something.”

  Cantour arrived and announced that their rooms were ready. The ladies departed, and Fallon was directed to the study.

  He entered slowly as Cantour asked if there was anything else he needed. Fallon sent him away and looked around the study with a feeling of repulsion. He had never set foot in this house before now, but somehow, everything reminded him of his father. Even standing on the carpet felt as intimate as touching the man himself, and Fallon wanted no part of it. He walked farther into the room, a large and masculine place, all browns and greens and burgundies. The chairs were large and thickly cushioned leather. The backs were tall. The fireplace was large enough for a small adult to walk into. The windows were shrouded in curtains, leaving the space dark and moody. Fallon strolled to the window and pulled them back. Not a speck of dust or time touched anything. Everything was exceptionally clean and cared for, the result of excellent staff.

  Fallon looked over the room under the new light. It was certainly less daunting with the touch of sunlight. He still hated the room, but he found the resolve to take a seat in the chair behind the desk and began rummaging through the drawers for ink and paper.

  Heather sat beside Fallon in an open landau. Bundled against the chill and laps covered with blankets, the five passengers sat in silent awkwardness as they rolled toward Hyde Park.

  Violet rolled her eyes and huffed.

  “Speak your peace, Miss Violet,” Fallon chuckled. He was determined to get to know his soon-to-be family. Hopefully, that would help him reach Heather again.

  “This seems a bit moronic.” Violet shivered. “It’s too cold to be out like this for the sake of being seen.”

  “I agree,” Prim said mutinously.

  “Such d
elicate little flowers. Shall we put the top up?” Fallon teased.

  “Let’s return home,” Prim begged.

  Fallon looked around the group of ladies. Heather may as well have been carved from stone, Lady Everly looked as rigid as an icicle, and the younger Everlys looked fit to freeze, even if only for dramatic effect.

  “What would you like to do, Miss Everly? Shall we abandon the park?”

  Heather only shrugged.

  Fallon withheld a beleaguered sigh. “You know, where I live in Scotland, it gets so cold that a bubble will freeze in the air.”

  “That’s preposterous!” Prim giggled.

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Fallon growled in mock anger.

  “I will believe it when I see it.”

  “I swear, here and now, that I will show you a bubble can freeze in midair, Miss Prim.”

  “Where do you live?” Violet asked.

  “Aberdeenshire.”

  “What’s it like?” Prim asked with excitement.

  “It’s a tad medieval. For a boy growing up, its paradise.”

  “You grew up in Scotland?” This came from Lady Everly.

  Fallon smiled. He felt the touch of Heather’s eyes on his face, but he didn’t look her way. “Up until the moment I entered England to attend the Endervale house party. I’ve never had a reason to leave until now.” That was met with silence.

  “But you don’t have a Scottish burr,” Violet said skeptically.

  Fallon grinned, and in the comforting burr that was so natural to him, he replied, “I had a very English tutor.”

  There were gasps of delight from the younger Everlys.

  “It will be up to us to show His Grace the delights of London. Where should we begin?” Lady Everly smiled.

  “Gunter’s,” Violet decreed

  “It’s too cold for ices,” Prim argued.

  “But not for tea and scones, and we will be seen, and more importantly, warm.”

  “That is a wonderful idea, Violet,” Lady Everly agreed. “Driver? Take us to Gunter’s.”

  The younger Everlys clapped in approval as the landau changed direction. Fallon glanced at Heather from the corner of his eye, but she was studiously looking in the opposite direction. A thick blanket covered her legs and kept them from touching. As the carriage turned a corner, Fallon pressed his thigh against hers.

  “My apologies.” He smiled at her when she sharply turned to look at him. He retreated, giving her space, as she turned away from him again. He almost sighed in defeat, but upon closer inspection, he saw the flush of red spread up her neck and ears. So, she wasn’t immune to him. He had something on which to rebuild their relationship.

  They arrived at Berkeley Square and entered Gunter’s Tea Shop. The aroma of sweets filled the air in invitation Fallon was eager for the new experience until he saw the breadth of patrons all turning to look at the new arrivals. Conversations ceased then started up again, fevered with interest. A passing waiter directed them to an open table, and Fallon chose to sit with his back to the room at large. Heather took the seat he held for her beside him without argument, and he wondered how much effort that cost her. She looked content, but far from inviting of his attention. Lady and the younger Everlys were talking excitedly about the patrons taking great notice of their entrance.

  Fallon took a deep breath. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention. He usually spent his days surrounded by the same ten people, people who were like family, like surrogate parents. He did his best to adopt a bored mien, but he could already feel an uncomfortable heat spreading up his neck. The waiter came to serve them, and Lady Everly requested tea for all.

  “I’d like to try one of your famous ices. Lemon flavor?”

  “Very good, sir.” The waiter bowed and departed.

  Fallon exhaled. He kept his sweating palms pressed against his thighs.

  Heather leaned close and whispered to him, “Is something the matter?”

  Fallon was surprised. He hesitantly met her eyes. “I… I’ve never been one to garner much attention. It’s a little disconcerting.” He thought he saw a flicker of sympathy in her eyes, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “I see. You’ve already proven your acting skills. Just think of this as another role to play.”

  He frowned, taken aback. She turned her attention to her sisters and completely dismissed him. Did she really think he had been acting? Well, he had pretended to be a steward for the sake of anonymity, but his words, his desires—those were genuine. The thrust of her words cut deep, and it took him a moment to gather his wits. It was glaringly obvious now how little she really knew him, and perhaps that was the crux of the issue. She didn’t know him, and he didn’t know her. What they had felt before was its own new category of desire, an uncontrollable spark between them. The reality was, they were little more than strangers.

  At that moment, he made it his mission to change that. It wouldn’t be easy, but he would wear her down any way he could. He couldn’t ask for her love, but he could earn it, he could fight for it. The glorious future they could have—love, children, a real family—was too great to accept anything less.

  The tea arrived along with his ice. He sampled the cold delicacy amid stares and smiled in approval. “Lemon heaven on a spoon,” he declared.

  He heard the murmur of patrons around him agree with his assessment. A lady approached with her daughter in tow and Fallon stood. Lady Everly introduced him.

  “Lady Goodwich, so wonderful to see you. May I introduce His Grace, the Eighth Duke of Ablehill.”

  “A pleasure, Your Grace. I present my daughter.” Both mother and daughter curtsied.

  Fallon bowed his head to each of them. “The pleasure is mine.”

  “We won’t keep you from your tea. I only wanted to say how wonderful it is to see your return to town, Lady Everly.” Lady Goodwich smiled at the girls, her gaze lingering on Heather and then Fallon. She departed and again, all eyes were on their table. Fallon resumed his seat.

  “Your name will be all over London within the hour,” Violet announced.

  “I beg your pardon?” Fallon said in puzzlement.

  “Lady Goodwich is very kind, but she does lack circumspection with her words,” Lady Everly clarified.

  “I’m missing something, aren’t I?” He turned to Heather in desperation.

  “Her mouth is like a runaway carriage. It careens through the streets spilling gossip like baggage,” Heather said.

  “Ah, I understand now.”

  She turned back to her tea, taking her attention away like a bone from a naughty dog. She would probably like that analogy, him being cast as the dog. He desperately wished she would smile at him again. It would be his goal for the immediate future.

  They finished their tea and left Gunter’s. They rode back to the townhouse in companionable silence, this time with the top up. Fallon had an appointment with a tailor that evening. He promised he would be back before dinner. This was met with kind smiles from three of the Everlys and Heather completely ignoring him. He left feeling as vulnerable as he had as a boy, ignored by the one person he wanted most.

  Chapter 15

  Heather tried to concentrate on the open book in front of her, but all she could think about was Fallon. He had sent his regrets for dinner. At the time, she had been relieved, but now she was obsessing over the reasons why he couldn’t make it. She tried to focus on something else, anything but him, but she was failing miserably. What was he doing? Who was he with? He didn’t seem to enjoy the attention at Gunter’s, but once the ton got hold of him, would he change? She groaned as she agonized over her thoughts. Guilt plagued her every second she spent in his presence, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. She’d spoken to her mother regarding Lord Brightly’s presence at the Endervale ball, and it was exactly as she had feared. He was determined to slander them and ruin her chances of marriage. As to the why, her mother remained closed-lipped. It was lucky that Fallon’s identity had
been discovered the following morning. But fear still claimed her, and she had nightmares of crowded ballrooms and guests laughing and shouting at her, calling her father a cheat and Heather a whore. She tossed the book away and slipped out of bed. Tucking her robe around her, she grabbed her candle, deciding a little exploring might be in order.

  She inched out of her room, chasing the shadows away with the glow of her candle. Passing the rooms of her mother and sisters, she reached the stairs and climbed up to the gallery. A long hall of pictures beckoned, and one by one, she stopped to peer at them. She analyzed each face, growing more puzzled as they gave no hint of familial connection to each other. No two faces were similar in any way. She reached the final pictures before a set of large double doors. This face she recognized. Similar but different. Harsh where Fallon was kind, dark where Fallon was light.

  “Amazing, isn’t it? I am the very image of him.”

  Heather jerked in surprise, her candle almost slipping from her hand. “Dear God, might you have warned me?”

  “My apologies. You looked very absorbed. I didn’t want to disturb you. I haven’t had the pleasure of just looking at you today.”

  Heather tried to steady her hand. She set the candle down on the hall table. He had a way with words. They wove around her in invisible threads and pulled her to him. He came to her, and she took pains to control her breathing.

  “He once tried to deny his patronage of me after my mother passed. He was a blind fool.”

  “That’s horrible,” Heather responded quietly. She was already feeling the tug of his energy, that indescribable urge to draw closer to him whenever he was near.

  Fallon shrugged. “That’s when he left, determined to prove my muddied lineage and disinherit me. I was six.”

  Heather was speechless. “He tried to disinherit you?”

  “Yes, well, that’s what he claimed before he left. I never heard another word until we were notified of his death twenty-nine years later.”