Desperate for a Duke

by Dayna Quince

  Her mother’s smile faltered. “Are you certain?”

  Heather nodded. “I don’t want to start our marriage with a secret hanging over our heads. I think he will understand why we did what we did more than anyone.”

  Her mother sighed heavily, but she nodded in acceptance. “I would like to be there. You don’t have to do it alone. It is our shared secret.

  Heather hugged her mother. “Thank you.”

  Her mother squeezed her tightly and let her go. “We mustn’t wrinkle our dresses.” Her mother dabbed a stray tear with the finger of her glove.

  Heather smiled, but the evening felt heavier somehow, the air charged with expectation. Fallon’s arrival did little to dim it, though he was a cheerful distraction. Heather sensed nervous energy within him and took his hand as they walked into the dining room.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m nervous,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “So am I, but we must make an effort to enjoy ourselves.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I know I will enjoy dancing with you.”

  Heather bit back a knowing smile. “And I you.”

  They took their seats, while Violet and Prim filled the air with unsubtle displeasure about not being allowed to attend the ball. Lady Everly patiently reminded them there would be no shortage of parties in their future. Fallon distracted them with tales of raucous clan gatherings and the kidnappings of brides. Entertained, the two stopped whining long enough for everyone to enjoy their dinner before being banished to their rooms, although Heather knew they would be spying on the guests from the top of the stairs most of the evening.

  As a trio, they took their place at the door to the ballroom as the first guest arrived. Heather was a bundle of nerves in the beginning, but soon the greetings grew tedious, and it actually served to calm her. Fallon looked implacably calm throughout, which boosted her own confidence that the evening would go well. They joined their guests in the ballroom, where Heather gratefully accepted a glass of lemon water from a footman. Her thirst was parched after all the greetings.

  Heather and Fallon would lead the first dance. The musicians were ready, instruments tuned, and all that was needed was to signal Cantour. Her mother came to her side and brushed her cheek. “Are you ready?”

  Heather smiled. “As I will ever be.”

  “Good.” Lady Everly signaled Cantour, and the musicians began to play.

  Fallon bowed low to her. “Miss Everly.”

  Heather laughed as she took his hand. “I’m not a queen. That was absurd.”

  “You will be my queen,” he bent and whispered into her ear.

  She fought a blush but did not win. She was sure she was the picture of a blushing bride-to-be as they took their place on the dance floor. All eyes were on them as they began the dance, before other couples finally joined in. Heather was relieved when they were no longer the center of attention. When they finished, she was out of breath but giddy with joy. She was greeted at the edge of the dance floor by familiar and friendly faces.

  “You look radiant,” Anabelle gushed and hugged her swiftly.

  “Thank you, as do you.”

  “You two make quite a stunning pair,” Lucy added. She was dressed in pale pink and looked deceivingly docile. “You dance very well, Mr. Calder,” Lucy teased.

  Fallon laughed. “My apologies for deceiving you all.”

  “All is forgiven,” Hazel assured. “You rescued Heather like a knight in shining armor.”

  Heather laughed as Fallon reddened under Hazel’s praise.

  “I’m not as gallant as all that. There were no dragons to battle.”

  The ladies laughed, all smitten by him, and Heather couldn’t blame them. Fallon, with his effortless charm and dressed in evening blacks, was everything a girl could want in a future husband. And through some strange collision of destiny, he would now be hers. He excused himself to greet a new acquaintance, and Heather sighed blissfully as he strode away.

  “Careful,” Lucy warned. “Being too happy results in little wings sprouting from your feet and carrying you away into the clouds.”

  Heather swatted at her. “I’ve no wish to be anywhere but exactly where I stand, but… He is too perfect, isn’t he?” Her smile faltered.

  “No,” Hazel responded. “He’s much too tall for my taste.”

  Heather gaped at her in disbelief.

  Hazel shrugged. “You looked worried.”

  “She should be. No one is perfect. Can you not find any fault at all?” Lucy asked.

  “Well...” Heather didn’t know what to say.

  The girls looked at each other with concern then drifted to the side of the room to talk more privately.

  “What is it?” Anabelle asked with concern.

  “It all feels too good to be true. I want tonight to be perfect, and I want to believe that we will really be this happy, but how can that be? I feel like something bad has to happen.”

  “Like what?” Lucy demanded.

  Heather shrugged despondently. “I don’t know.”

  “There has been some talk but nothing damning. By the wedding, it should all blow over,” Anabelle assured her.

  “He must have some flaws you’ve noticed. Men are riddled with flaws.” Lucy set her hands on her hips.

  “Well…he does have some residual anger over his father.”

  “Let us not forget, pretending to be a steward,” Hazel added.

  Heather blushed. “Yes, there’s that. He had his reasons.”

  Four sets of eyes looked at her expectantly, but Heather couldn’t tell them. It felt like a betrayal. “It’s not my past to tell. You will have to accept that.”

  “Well, there you have it,” Anabelle said. “You will have to help him deal with his past.”

  “But I don’t know how!” Heather exclaimed.

  “Neither do we. This is the imperfection you needed to have in order to accept all the things that are good. You will have to find a way to deal with it,” Lucy decreed, showing wisdom far beyond her years. “That isn’t going to happen tonight, so let’s drink some champagne, dance until our feet ache, and enjoy this night. You are the first of us to be married, Heather, so let’s celebrate!”

  Heather smiled appreciatively at Lucy, while the others cheered in agreement, then let them pull her to the refreshment table. She set her worries aside. It was good to have a friend like Lucy.

  Three glasses later, Fallon found her next to her mother, fanning her cheeks. They were sore from smiling, and the room was sweltering.

  “How have you managed?” she asked. He looked none the worse for wear.

  “I’ve had good conversations and tedious conversations. Lord Hubert is our nearest neighbor, I’ve learned, and he has terrible gout. My horse is famous across London and can have any dam he pleases. Oh, and Rigsby claims to be in love with an opera singer.”

  Lucy poked her head between them. “Last week it was a ballet dancer. Next week it will be an actress.”

  “Good to know. I won’t plan on attending his wedding anytime soon.” Fallon winked at her. “I beat Draven soundly at cards. I thought Lady Anabelle would like that.”

  “She’d like you to dislocate his jaw,” Heather droned, “but you’re much too civilized for such things.”

  “She should do it herself,” Lucy added with a slight sway, despite being seated in a chair.

  Heather gave her an admonishing look. “It’s time you drank some water.”

  “I will see to it,” Fallon agreed and went to fetch a glass.

  “Likable fel-low, he is.” Lucy paused as she hiccupped. “But I prefer champagne, and champagne prefers me.”

  “I’d prefer you able to sit still, which you can’t. It’s as if a blustering wind has caught you—and only you.”

  “That’s pure nonsense, Heather. You’ve had too much champagne. I’ll tell you this… I couldn’t love a man like him. He is for you. I want a man with a little danger, a man who has seen somet
hing other than his own reflection as his valet ties his cravat. I want a man to challenge me.”

  “He has seen more than his own reflection,” Heather said defensively.

  “Please don’t take offense. His Grace is a rare gem, and he certainly saw you clearly enough to snatch you up, but his type is not for me. I need…a different man.”

  Heather frowned at Lucy in puzzlement. “Do you mean a soldier?”

  “No. Well perhaps, but someone altogether different than all these worthless men... Someone alive inside.” Lucy gestured to the room at large.

  Heather didn’t know what to say. Fallon returned with the glass of water, and Lucy took it with thanks then gulped it down. “Oh, no,” she said abruptly.

  As if summoned from thin air, her brother appeared. “I’ve told you repeatedly, you can’t handle your drinks. Mother will have a fit if she sees you like this.”

  “Mother will have a fit when I tarnish the floor.”

  “Bloody hell.” He yanked her up by an arm and headed for the terrace doors.

  Heather and Fallon shared a look of concern before following. They hesitated at the doors. The cold air was a crisp relief. Lucy was bent over some bushes, and Rigsby was patting her back.

  “Poor thing,” Heather murmured.

  “It was her own doing.” Fallon chuckled. “Come now, I believe this is my dance.” He pulled her away from the doors and back onto the dance floor, where a waltz was about to start. He slid one hand to her back and enveloped her own hand with his other. “I made a special request.”

  The music began and Heather couldn’t breathe. He started to move them, a slow revolution to a haunting melody of which only she knew the meaning. She was going to cry, she was sure of it. Here, in front of everyone. It felt like every eye in the room was upon them, but at the same time, they were alone. Only they knew the importance of this music, of everything that it meant. She blinked away thick tears and smiled up at him. There was a swelling of joy in her heart, a profound sense of completion. Somehow, in searching for a way to rescue her family, she’d found him. Or perhaps he’d found her, but either way, there was completeness now. No matter what tragedies came, or minor misfortune, he would be her constant—he would be her anchor.

  She loved him. She knew it with everything in her—she loved him. Not because of his title, or because he saved them from her father’s debilitating debts, but because of this moment and every moment he seemed to create just for her. For his understanding, his acceptance, and the way he just knew her… He knew everything she was, even more so than she.

  Fallon couldn’t look away from her. She glowed. Little tears sparkled in her lashes like diamonds, though she tried to blink them away. They were tears of joy, he knew, joy he felt as well. He underestimated the effect of his little surprise, even on himself. Holding her now as the music transported them, blocking out everyone around them, he had to resist pulling her closer. Only he understood what it meant to her—meant to them. This single song encapsulated all that was between them and all that could be. A fantasy no more, a reality—their reality, and it was only limited by time. There would never be enough time, enough holding and kissing, enough lovemaking for a lifetime.

  Love.

  Invisible sparks showered over his skin. It was illuminating. Love. He’d never considered love. He loved Heather. Like seeing lightning strike the ground, it was startling and awe-inspiring. From this moment on, he would never be the same. It was as certain as his next breath, his next turn. He loved her, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized he’d probably loved her since the moment he set eyes on her. Hell, since the moment he read her letter.

  The music came to a close and they whirled to a halt, but Fallon couldn’t let her go. He’d give anything to be alone with her right now. He settled for resting her hand on his arm and covering it with his. Her eyes were still sparkling up at him, looking at him with such wonder. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming.

  “Perhaps we should check on Lady Lucy?” he said aloud.

  Heather nodded. He took her to the doors, which were closed once again. He pulled one open and handed her through, before closing the door behind them. Lucy and Rigsby were no longer in sight, and he hadn’t expected them to be.

  “This way.” He took her hand and pulled her away from the doors to a shadowed corner of the terrace.

  “Fallon, I think they’ve returned to the ballroom,” Heather said.

  “I don’t care where they’ve gone, as long as they’re not here. I need to kiss you.” He pulled her close.

  “Oh!” Heather said in surprise then leaned into him. “I need to kiss you too.” She reached up to pull his head to hers and hungry lips met. It was a desperate and daring kiss, their time dwindling by the second. As soon as it began, it had to be over, and they pulled away. Clouds of breath filled the air between them. Heather was warm despite the frigid air, and her heart pounded with want. “Are you staying here tonight?” she asked.

  “No, but I will be here until every last guest leaves, perhaps longer.” One side of his mouth curved up. “Why?”

  Heather licked her lips. “Come to my room.”

  He stiffened. The wall of his chest under her hands turning to stone, and the swell of his manhood was suddenly very apparent. “Heather…”

  “Fallon…” she returned cheekily.

  “Believe me when I say I want nothing more than to do exactly that, but we mustn’t. I already put your family at risk with my antics at the house party. I will not be the cause of more rumors.”

  “But—”

  “No, little flower— God! I’m an idiot. How could I say no?” he groaned.

  Heather laughed. “Then you will?”

  He shook his head. “No. On our wedding night, I will lay you down on our marriage bed, and then we will have our fill.”

  Heather released a heavy sigh. She was burning for him. “Why must you be so respectable?”

  He chuckled and turned her back to the doors. “I’m suffering too, Heather, but our patience will have its rewards.”

  Chapter 20

  The weather was warming, and Heather and her sisters gladly took to the park to feel the spring sun and fresh air. The park was full of like-minded others, all looking for some light exercise and an opportunity to be seen. The season was well under way, the streets filled with carriages. Bond Street’s sidewalks crowded with bobbing bonnets as the women shopped for fripperies and the men took to their clubs.

  Prim had brought a kite, another gift from Fallon, and Violet was petitioning for a turn. Heather watched them with amusement, as their mother looked on and chatted with the other matrons parked along the road while their children socialized.

  “Let me show you, Prim. I’m a master kite flyer,” Violet argued.

  “You haven’t flown a kite before either. How are you a master flyer?” Prim retorted.

  “It’s a natural talent, I assure you.”

  Prim glared at her sister. “If you break my kite, I will have you drawn and quartered.” She handed over the spool unenthusiastically.

  Violet grinned at her. “I commend your imagination. I swear I won’t break it.” Violet took the spool eagerly and whooped as she ran with it. The kite arced and dived erratically, zipping through the air like a bird fighting against a tether.

  Heather called out to her sister, reminding her that she should not be running amok in a public park. Violet slowed reluctantly and strolled back with a pout.

  “You’ve given it too much string,” Prim directed.

  Violet ignored her. The kite had settled and floated majestically far above them. “I told you I was better at it than you.”

  “Then get your own kite,” Prim bit off.

  “I like this one. It has fetching red ribbons.”

  “Ablehill gave it to me, and I want it back.” Prim tried to snatch the spool from Violet’s hands. Violet jerked it out of reach.

  “I’m not finished, Prim. Don’t be i
mpertinent.”

  “You’re going to break it. Give it back,” Prim urged.

  “Violet, Prim, please remember your surroundings and behave accordingly,” Heather admonished.

  “She’s going to break it!” Prim cried.

  Heather sighed wearily. “Violet, give it back. You’ve had your turn.”

  Violet pursed her lips. “Fine.” She pushed the spool into Prim’s hands angrily. The kite arced and dove, heading straight for a group of gentlemen.

  The kite pegged one man straight in the back of the head and the girls froze. The gentleman was not felled by the kite, thankfully, but he did grab the back of his head then bent to pick up the offending kite. He picked up the string and followed it all the way back to the trio of guilty statues.

  Prim abruptly shoved the spool back in Violet’s arms as the gentleman strolled over.

  “I believe this belongs to you?”

  “Please accept our sincerest apology,” Heather spoke up. “It’s the first time we’ve flown a kite.”

  He looked at them peculiarly, his eyes touching on them one at a time. “Apology accepted, though I wish to hear it from the guilty party.”

  Prim looked to Violet. “She did it.”

  “I did not. I gave it back to you,” Violet hissed.

  “You thrust it at me. I had no control of it.”

  “Exactly, you were the last to touch it.”

  Prim turned a bright shade of red as she glared hatred at her sister, and tears began to pool in her eyes.

  Violet sighed in defeat. “It was me, my lord. I hit you with the kite, albeit accidentally.” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

  He smiled at her. “Apology accepted.”

  Heather watched as a strange change came over Violet. Violet gave him a coy smile. She blushed prettily then looked away demurely.

  Well done, Heather thought. She inspected the gentleman more carefully. His hair was unfashionably long and unkempt, almost as if his only care to it had been to run his fingers through it after climbing out of bed. His clothes, on the other hand, were of exceptional quality. He looked to be a disreputable young lord. A rake, who was now eyeing her sister with interest.