Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger

by Carole Mortimer

  Damn both Marcus and Maystone; one for ignoring his obvious request for assistance, the other for being so befuddled of wits he had not only seemed, but had proved to be, incapable of any action or sensible thought where Lisette was concerned.

  Not that Christian would have allowed the older man to take Lisette away with him. He could not have allowed that after his earlier promises, but he could have done with a little assistance from one or both of the other gentlemen in regard to this situation.

  A situation not of Lisette’s choosing, he once again reminded himself heavily.

  ‘I am not tired,’ she answered him huskily.

  Christian frowned now at the way Lisette kept her face turned away from him. Damn it, if she was crying...!

  He was weakened and felt as much at a loss as most men did when confronted by a woman’s tears. The more so if they were Lisette’s—she had been so stalwart in her behaviour and actions up until now. He could not think of many women who would have acted as bravely as she had done these past few days—escaping out of windows in order to warn him of danger, coming to his rescue after he had been shot, leaving behind her home and country to sail all the way to England to care for him on the journey.

  And her reward? She had been bundled into a coach and brought to London against her will. Moreover, she had been made love to in that coach by the very man who was responsible for her present dilemma.

  Perhaps, in the circumstances, Lisette was allowed to shed a few tears.

  ‘Come here.’ Christian limped across the room to sit down on the bed beside her and take her into his arms. ‘No, do not fight me, Lisette,’ he soothed gently as she did exactly that. ‘Let me hold you,’ he encouraged gruffly.

  ‘Why?’ Her voice was muffled against his chest as his arms held her too tightly for her to escape.

  ‘Why what?’ Christian allowed himself the pleasure of winding one of her silky curls about his finger.

  ‘You so obviously wanted either Le Duc or m’lord to take me away earlier!’ she accused brokenly as she finally gave up the fight and her head rested against his chest.

  Yes, there were definitely tears, Christian acknowledged as he felt their damp heat soaking the front of his shirt. And not for any of the reasons he had attributed, but because he had hurt her feelings earlier. ‘I thought only of your reputation,’ he soothed, knowing he was not being altogether truthful.

  He had been concerned with Lisette’s reputation, but more so with his inability to resist her.

  Good Lord, when he had made love to her in his carriage earlier today, he had not given a care for where they were or that his leg pained and discomforted him. How much less resistance would he have against her once he was completely well again? Even now he was totally aware of the fact that there was only the thin material of her gown between his hands and the bareness of her creamy skin. A fact made possible by his having ripped her chemise to shreds earlier in a fit of passion.

  He had never behaved in such a rough and demanding manner with any woman before Lisette.

  Had never burned so deeply with lust before Lisette.

  She gave a choked laugh now. ‘I have no reputation left to lose, Christian.’

  ‘Of course you do. When this is over—’

  ‘I will still be a stranger in a strange land, with no money or family, and the illegitimate daughter of a French tavern owner who is an enemy of your country.’

  Christian gave a wince at this unflatteringly accurate description of Lisette’s circumstances.

  ‘I know I have previously spoken to the contrary, but...once Lord Maystone realises that I truly do not know anything about my—about Helene Rousseau’s plots and plans, perhaps you might consider taking me as your mistress?’ Lisette looked up at him with tear-damp eyes.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Until such time as you take a duchess, of course,’ she added hastily, no doubt at his horrified expression. ‘I should not like to intrude upon a marriage.’

  If Christian had been startled by her outspokenness to Maystone earlier, he now found himself completely stunned by Lisette’s suggestion of becoming his mistress.

  Women simply did not behave in this forward manner—

  He already knew that Lisette was not like other women. Indeed, he had never met another like her. Innocent on the one hand, completely practical on the other.

  But not so innocent that she did not know that she had only one thing that was truly her own, and practical enough to decide to whom and when she would give it.

  ‘Have you forgotten your claim—“I would rather sell my soul to the devil than be beholden to you for a moment longer”?’ He huskily reminded her of the insult she had hurled at him during their heated exchange at the inn yesterday.

  If Lisette telling him exactly what she thought of him and his having had no choice but to listen to those thoughts could be called an exchange!

  ‘I have said that I do.’

  ‘But you have now changed your mind?’

  ‘Do not mock me, Christian.’ Lisette did not appreciate his levity when she had spent the past few minutes considering her future.

  She had no real wish to return to France, now that she had been made aware of the full extent of Helene’s actions. Indeed, it might be dangerous for her to do so.

  But if she was allowed to remain free and in England, then her lack of spoken English would limit her options of employment. Something she intended to rectify as soon as possible, but unfortunately, that would not be soon enough for her to become a companion, governess or even a maid in an English household.

  But if she had no choice but to become some rich gentleman’s mistress, then she would rather make the choice of that lover for herself. She already knew that she and Christian were physically compatible. Much better, if she had to become some man’s mistress, that she at least enjoy the gentleman’s attentions.

  ‘Besides, I should not be beholden to you,’ she reasoned briskly. ‘You would set me up in my own small establishment, and in exchange I would make myself available to you whenever you wish it. That is the way these things are arranged, is it not?’ she added with a pragmatism she was not sure she actually felt as yet but hoped to achieve, and certainly now wished to convey to Christian.

  The Duprées had been great believers in pragmatism; they had often had need to be on the farm, when the crops had failed or the cows did not provide enough milk to sell.

  A pragmatism Lisette was sorely in need of when all she possessed, besides herself, were the few belongings Christian had purchased for her before leaving Paris.

  ‘I have no need of a mistress.’

  She looked up at him sharply. ‘Is that because you already have one?’

  ‘No, of course I do not—’ He broke off in obvious exasperation. ‘Lisette, you cannot just offer to become a man’s mistress without his first having given indication that is what he wants too!’

  Her eyebrows rose. ‘Earlier today in your carriage was not an indication of your desire for me?’

  ‘Well. Yes.’ He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘Of course it was an indication that I desire you, but I— Lisette, I have never set myself up with a mistress—’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘—and I do not intend to start now. What do you mean—why not?’ He scowled darkly.

  She gave a shrug. ‘I thought all society gentlemen, most especially a duke, took a mistress?’

  ‘Then you thought wrong.’ He glowered. ‘Neither I nor, to my knowledge, any of my close friends have ever done so.’

  ‘That does not mean you could not do so now.’ It was not an ideal situation for Lisette either, nor had it been an easy decision for her to make, but she really did have so very few choices left to her. Once she had told Lord Maystone what she knew—which was very little, a
nd most certainly did not include Helene caring for her enough to respond to blackmail on her behalf—then it was easy to surmise that neither he nor Christian would have any further use for her.

  Unless she were to offer her services in some other way.

  ‘I do not have need of a mistress,’ Christian bit out between gritted teeth.

  ‘Well, certainly not now, when you are incapacitated—’

  ‘Ever!’

  ‘There is no need to shout, Christian—’

  ‘No need to—!’ His arms moved from about her before he stood up to glower down at her even more darkly. ‘There is every reason to shout when you have just offered to become my mistress.’

  ‘An offer you have clearly refused.’ Lisette stood up, chin raised proudly. ‘Which means I will have to find some other acceptable gentleman to whom I might—’

  ‘You will do no such thing!’

  She gave a wince. ‘You are still shouting, Christian.’

  ‘I am about to put you over my knee and administer that spanking we discussed earlier if you do not cease talking of this subject—’ He broke off as Evans appeared in the open doorway, accompanied by a wide-eyed maid carrying a pitcher and several towels.

  Lisette was unsure who was the most embarrassed: herself for having had Christian’s threat to spank her bottom overheard—and possibly some of the conversation leading up to that threat?—or the two shocked servants at being the ones to have overheard that threat.

  Christian glared furiously.

  ‘I... I thought Miss Duprée might care for some hot water and towels with which to refresh herself after your journey, Your Grace.’ Evans was the first to recover, his expression once again respectfully deadpan.

  The situation was so ludicrous, Lisette acknowledged as her initial dismay began to recede, that it was all she could now do to stop herself from laughing. Her efforts not to do so were not helped by the continuing look of outrage on Christian’s face.

  He breathed in deeply—fighting for control?—before answering his butler tautly. ‘Leave them and go.’

  ‘Thank you, Evans,’ Lisette managed to add in heavily accented English, with the addition of a smile, in the hope of making up for Christian’s abruptness; it was very kind of the butler to have thought of her comfort in that way.

  ‘Close the door on your way out,’ Christian instructed stiffly once the pitcher of water and towels had been placed on the washstand.

  Christian considered it shocking enough that Lisette had offered to become his mistress, but the idea that she might so much as think of making that same scandalous offer to another gentleman was even more unacceptable.

  He would rather accept the offer himself than—

  No!

  He was not going to take Lisette as his mistress or anything else. Once the situation with Maystone had been settled then Christian would do everything in his considerable power to help Lisette to find gainful employment. Legitimate gainful employment. In a respectable household. Many women in English society now had French maids, emigrées from the years of upheaval in France, and although Lisette might be a little outspoken for such a post, he was sure that Julianna, if she had no need of her services herself, might at least be able to advise the younger woman on how best to behave.

  And maybe, from time to time, the two of them might meet, have luncheon or afternoon tea together, so that Christian might see Lisette, talk with her and ascertain that she was happy and being well cared for—

  A duke did not have luncheon or afternoon tea with a lady’s maid.

  Well. No. Perhaps not.

  There was no perhaps about it; it simply was not done.

  Then perhaps Julianna might be persuaded to invite the two of them—

  He was taking himself round and round in circles, Christian realised. And Lisette stood at the centre of all of them.

  If—when Lisette eventually left his household and became a lady’s maid, or perhaps just a maid, then he must accept that he would not be able to see her again.

  The thought did not sit well with him.

  He could not imagine being unable to look into those beautiful blue eyes or to see the spark of anger that so often lit them. Or to listen to her outrageous conversation; even her scoldings were so much more entertaining than anything any other woman had ever said to him.

  As for the effect she had upon him physically...

  She had, Christian realised, made a place for herself in his life these past few days. A place that no other woman ever had.

  A place that would gape like an open wound once Lisette was no longer there to fill it.

  Meaning what?

  That he had to be suffering a fever of some kind—perhaps his wound had become infected after all?—if he was once again considering doing the unthinkable!

  He straightened. ‘I am sure we will both feel...calmer, more able to discuss your future, once we have rested after our journey.’

  Lisette could not see that there was anything more for them to discuss on the subject when she had already considered her future from all angles.

  Christian had just refused the obvious choice.

  She had no skills, except those of working on a farm or in a tavern. If the English taverns were anything like the one owned by Helene Rousseau, then she was more likely than not, as an unprotected young woman in a strange country, to end up one night with her skirts up to her waist and her virtue lost.

  No, better by far to choose that life for herself, to choose the man for herself, rather than have it chosen for her by some unwashed lout in a dark alley.

  She stood up. ‘You are right, of course, Christian. As usual,’ she added tightly.

  Christian eyed her guardedly; an acquiescent Lisette was decidedly more worrying than the virago Lisette. ‘What are you up to...?’

  She opened wide eyes. ‘What does this mean—“up to”?’

  Christian wished he felt reassured by those innocent wide blue eyes. Unfortunately, they had the opposite effect; when Lisette looked innocent then he could be sure she was about to do something she should not.

  He sighed. ‘In your case it means—what are you plotting and planning to do this afternoon, while I am resting, that you should not be doing?’

  She shrugged. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’

  Yes, definitely plotting and planning... ‘You realise you cannot leave here, Lisette?’ He watched her closely. ‘That to do so would be dangerous?’

  Her chin rose. ‘For whom?’

  Christian frowned his irritation. ‘For you, of course. England is rife with French spies— This is not funny, Lisette.’ His frown turned to a scowl.

  ‘Of course it is.’ She continued to chuckle. ‘I am not safe in France; I am not safe in England. Where shall I be safe, Monsieur le Duc?’

  With him, Christian instantly answered, and then just as quickly dismissed it again. Lisette was not safe with him, or from him; he had more than proved that in the coach earlier.

  He gave a weary shake of his head. ‘I am too tired to argue with you just now, Lisette. Only give me a few hours to sleep and I promise I will be rested enough for you to argue with for as long as you wish to do so.’

  ‘I do not argue with you—’

  ‘You do nothing else!’ Christian’s voice rose, this time impatiently. ‘You are the most contrary woman— I swear that if I said the sky is blue that you would argue it was pink.’

  She wrinkled her pretty nose. ‘Sometimes it is. Have you never seen the sunset when—?’

  ‘I am going to bed, Lisette,’ he announced flatly as he walked determinedly across the room to the door. ‘Try to behave yourself in my absence.’

  Lisette kept her chin raised high until Christian had left the bedchamber and then, only then,
did she allow her shoulders to droop dejectedly.

  She had buried all her scruples, her dreams for the future, had done the unthinkable and offered to become Christian’s mistress, and he had rejected the idea totally. There had not been the slightest hesitation or doubt. He did not want her.

  He could not have told her any more clearly that she had only been an amusement to him in Paris, a diversion on the journey here, one he did not need or want now that he was back in London and was once again every inch the Duke of Sutherland.

  * * *

  ‘What do you mean she went out, Evans?’ Christian demanded. ‘Where did she go? And when?’

  His butler looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Miss Duprée went out for a walk, possibly two hours ago, Your Grace.’

  ‘Where?’ he repeated forcefully, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  Christian really had been exhausted by the time he had reached his own bedchamber earlier, and he had not even bothered to undress before dropping weakly down on top of the bed and falling into a deep sleep.

  His valet had woken him several hours later, armed with a cup of tea to refresh him and hot water in which to bathe. Christian had enjoyed the luxury of the latter long after his valet had completed his shave and the bath water had become cold.

  The bandage on his thigh had come off quite easily after his soak in the bath, and he was relieved to see that the wound was healing well once he had removed the soiled bandage upon stepping from the bath. He had also managed to reapply a fresh bandage himself; he certainly did not need any gossip below stairs concerning how he had acquired such a wound.

  Once he was dressed he had gone downstairs in search of Lisette, only to be told that she was not there. Which had the effect of completely undoing all the good work of the previous hours of sleep, followed by the relaxation in the bath.

  It was also in complete opposition to what Christian had instructed before going to his bedchamber.

  He really was going to have to put Lisette over his knee and spank her—