What the Groom Wants

by Jade Lee

  “Wind,” he said as he took a firm hold on her arm. “No, you do not.”

  “You have been recognized,” she all but hissed.

  He appeared to think about that for a moment. He might have forced the issue. She saw his jaw firm in a stubborn tilt. But then, the beauty started talking again.

  “Your grace? Your grace, everyone is in the park today. It’s all well and good for the new duke to dress oddly, but people will be less forgiving of a woman. She’s welcome to come with us. I will do what I can to help, but it will seem rather odd.”

  He lifted his head and turned to look at the woman. It took a moment for Wendy to realize what had happened. After all, except for the occasional visit once a year, she had not seen Radley in a decade. And she had never seen him draw himself to his full height and stare down anyone, much less a society beauty.

  “I have all the introductions I need for today, thank you.” And with that, he simply turned, settled Wendy’s hand back on his arm, and strolled away.

  Wendy did her best to quell the surge of satisfaction she felt. He had turned away from three society beauties to walk with her. Then, a moment later, she placed the woman’s name and found her happiness fading. “She’s beautiful and wealthy. Her father is an important banker, and her mother is friendly with the patronesses at Almack’s. You should not have angered her.”

  “Why not?” Radley answered with a snort. “I’m a duke now. I’m going to be accepted everywhere, no matter what I do or who I insult.”

  She had to admit he was right. “But there are costs. I don’t know what they are, but no one flouts society without consequences.”

  He glanced down at her, his expression sobering. Then he simply shrugged. “I didn’t like her.”

  “You don’t even know her. I’ll wager you didn’t even remember her name.”

  His lips curved in a slight smile. “Even so.”

  Wendy nearly groaned. “And now you’re acting like a nob. Dismissing people just because—”

  “They’re rude and impertinent?”

  She shot him a look. “And when did you start using words like ‘rude’ and ‘impertinent’?”

  “I learned them before I was out of short coats. Good God, Wind, you know how my mother could deliver a set down at forty paces. Did you think she spared me because I was her son?” He rolled his eyes. “She just never criticized me or Caroline in public.”

  “Well,” Wendy said with a shrug, “at least Miss Robin was badly dressed. Not one of our customers, you know.”

  He frowned. “Really? I hadn’t noticed. I was too busy stifling my yawn.”

  So he hadn’t noticed her clothing? “Not even the white lace ruffle at the bodice to emphasize her full nature?”

  He flashed her a grin. “Well, some things are hard to avoid seeing, I suppose. Made her look like a great white whale.”

  “It did not!”

  “It did. I was searching for my harpoon.”

  She smiled, imagining him standing at the front of his ship, a great harpoon in his hands. Would he be shirtless as he threw? Would he look like the sketches of Greek Gods that Helaine’s mother had showed her? Wendy had a seamstress’s eye for body and form. Glancing at him now, she decided he did look like those images. And she couldn’t help the heat that rose inside her at the thought.

  “Are you evaluating my clothes now?” he asked, giving his coat a self-conscious tug. “Grant has recommended a tailor, and he says he can teach me how to tie a cravat.” He flashed her a grin. “I told him I’d just knot a bowline on a bight. Had to show him what it was, but he said I might start a new fashion.”

  She looked at him, seeing the laughter in his eyes. It was never far from the surface. “You’re happier now. It’s good to see.”

  His expression faded. “I miss the sea, Wind. It’s only been two days, but the thought that I’ll never step to ship again…” His voice cracked a bit as he spoke, and he looked away.

  “But you’re a duke now. You can do whatever you want.”

  His expression turned sour. “Of course I can. So long as I mind the sheep and the tenants, produce an heir immediately, as well as make the social rounds enough to quash any fear that I will destroy England.”

  She jolted at the idea of his heir, but rather than voice that, she asked about the other part. “Destroy England? How?”

  “By being a radical. Or worse.”

  “What’s worse than radical?”

  “Newfangled.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He chuckled. “Neither do I, but that’s what they said. I cannot afford to seem radical or newfangled.”

  “Who are ‘they’?”

  “The solicitors. The bankers. Even Lord Crowle, though he laughed as he said so. Course he also agreed that… one of my relations should be able to guide me.”

  She heard the slight hesitation in his speech, right before he spoke of his relation. It wasn’t hard to guess why. After all, he was the last male relative. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have inherited the title. Which meant…

  “This relation is a woman?”

  He nodded, his expression rueful. “Lady Eleanor. From what I understand, she and my mother will get along famously.” Apparently, that wasn’t a recommendation.

  “Is she coming here to London? Or do you go there to see her?”

  He grimaced. “She’s on her way here. I need to go to Derby soon. For a few days, to understand what I’m supposed to do. But no one wants me there until the sickness is well and truly gone from the area.”

  She shuddered. “I suppose that’s prudent.”

  “It has nothing to do with me,” he said dryly. “As far as I can tell, their biggest fear is that I might die without an heir, at which point, the title disappears.”

  “Oh,” she said, not having thought much about titles and succession. Or, if she had, it wasn’t to fear if one went extinct. She was more concerned with making sure she survived to the next week.

  He turned to look at her, his expression somber. “They want me to marry her. They keep saying she’ll make an excellent duchess.”

  Her heart sank, but she couldn’t look away. He seemed to be trying to tell her something, but all she could think—all she could feel—was an abiding hatred of this Lady Eleanor.

  “Will you?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

  He reared back. “Course not! I don’t even know her.”

  “That doesn’t make a difference among the ton,” she said, while her heart beat triple time.

  “I don’t care. She’s not the woman I want.” He took hold of her other hand. “I came home to court you, Wind. That doesn’t change, whether I’m a duke, a captain, or a plain old seaman. I want you.”

  Her eyes started to burn. Of course, she’d guessed this was what he meant. After all, he’d been sending her such lovely gifts for years. But the truth was, they were near strangers. He didn’t know her much more than he knew Miss Grace Robin.

  And there was something else too. He didn’t know what she’d been doing with Demon Damon either. He didn’t know that she’d been kissed by a man he considered a monster, and she’d done it in full view of the entire hell.

  “Say something, Wind.”

  She swallowed, her mind in a whirl. “I say that everything’s changing. It’s not that you’ve become a duke, though that’s big enough. It’s that the shop’s doing better, but with all the ladies marrying nobs, there’s more work and fewer hands to do it.”

  “Hire help, then.”

  She nodded. How like a man to have a ready answer to the statement, but not the feeling beneath. And yet, she was no different, focusing on his solution, not on the whirling turmoil inside.

  “They must be trained, and there are some things that can’t be done by anyone else.”

  “But surely, you can’t think to give your entire life to a dress shop. You’re a woman who should be a wife and a mother.”

  She shot him a glare. “And surely
, you cannot think to give your entire life to the sea. To live day and night on a ship, then come to land only to dream of the moment you return.”

  He blinked, obviously startled by her words. She knew that was exactly how he felt. That even such a windfall as a dukedom paled to ashes beneath the strain of leaving sailing behind forever.

  “But… but it’s different for a woman.”

  “Balderdash,” she snapped. “If a man can love his work, then a woman can too.” Her words came out forceful and angry, but not because of the argument. In truth, she loved her work, but she did want to marry. She did want a husband and children. Her bed was a lonely place at night, and the temptation to reach for a man—any man—to fill that hole was strong.

  He frowned, all but gaping. “You don’t want to marry? Ever?”

  She sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

  His expression tightened in annoyance. “Then what do you mean?”

  He still held her hands, and she felt the warmth even through her gloves. He did that to her: warmed her blood and made her thoughts sizzle and pop. Like water set to boil, he stirred things inside her and made her think of things that she’d long since given up.

  “I haven’t been able to think these last weeks,” she finally confessed. “It’s been constant work and no sleep and keeping an eye on Bernard, while trying to fill order after order. Don’t you understand?” she asked, her eyes meeting his with challenge and a kind of desperation. “You are stirring things up when I want it to settle.”

  He was immediately contrite. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and began to walk again—a slow stroll in no direction whatsoever. It would have been nice to walk through the park like this, but this was good enough. They had to constantly avoid people, but still… it was good enough.

  “I have gone too fast,” he said.

  “You’ve been home a day. One single day, and in that time, you’ve become a duke.”

  He chuckled, the sound tight, but still filled with humor. “You stir me up, Wind. Around you, I am blown into a gale.”

  “I don’t want a gale,” she said. “I want…”

  He looked at her when she didn’t finish her sentence. He didn’t even have to ask the question—it was written all over his face. What did she want? And could he provide it? Then, when he kept looking at her without moving, without wavering so much as an inch, the words were pulled out of her.

  “I want another kiss,” she said.

  He grinned. “That is certainly something I can do.”

  She nodded, but as he leaned toward her, she held up her hand. “Not here. Not now.”

  He glanced about the busy street and then nodded. “When?”

  She bit her lip. She didn’t have to work tonight at the gaming hell. Never again, if Radley loaned her the money, and the thought filled her with giddy relief. Could she really be done with Damon?

  “I will be working through the night at the shop,” she said. “Will you come there? Late?”

  “When?”

  She bit her lip, thinking hard. She desperately needed sleep, but her work at the hell had kept her up at all hours. That meant she was used to working late. “Midnight,” she said.

  He stroked his finger across her lips, leaving them burning. “I will knock twice on the workroom door.”

  She shook her head. “I will leave it unlocked. Just come in when you are ready.”

  He flashed her a naughty grin. “I am always ready with you.”

  A year ago, she might not have caught his meaning. Now, the bawdy comment felt tame. “And I will be waiting.” Then she hesitated, hating that she had to ask this, but needing to nonetheless. “And… and could you bring the money then? I want to be rid of… of Bernard’s problem as soon as possible.”

  He pressed a kiss into her palm. “I will bring whatever you need, my Wind.”

  ***

  Radley was whistling as he strolled away from the dress shop. Everything was falling into place. Certainly, there were changes to come. He was a duke, for God’s sake, and he still had little understanding of what that meant. But he felt as though he was getting it under control. Mostly, he was learning what he had to learn, and that made everything manageable.

  He was a smart man, after all, and he’d never failed when he set his mind to something. The responsibilities of a dukedom would be no different. Neither would his courtship of Wendy.

  In short, he was pleased. So pleased that he thought he would visit his new home. It was one more duke thing to accomplish before tonight’s seduction. And yes, he decided, it would be a seduction. He was truly primed to follow through on the promise of a kiss. And, if some things happened before the nuptials themselves, then that was the way of it sometimes.

  His mind wandered as he strolled to the Grosvenor home of the Duke of Bucklynde. He hadn’t planned on visiting yet. It had been too much to process, and apparently, there was a protocol for meeting the staff. But he knew his mother was anxious to move to the glorified address, and so he wanted to see it.

  He came upon the house in early evening. The sun was setting, and it cast the building in a warm glow. Many people might have said it was a pretty house, especially with all those orange and rose tones from the setting sun. He noted it absently, his mind simply reeling from the sheer size of the thing.

  All that space for himself and his mother. Good God, it was larger than the ship he’d brought in. He’d checked the address three times to realize that the massive edifice was his home. It didn’t house multiple families shoved together or an entire ship’s crew. Just him, his mother, and… well, servants. Probably a lot of servants, if what he’d heard about the last duke were true. The man had been singularly mindful of his consequence, and nothing said superiority like a household full of servants.

  Radley’s steps slowed as he wandered up the street. He had no interest in all that weight—servants, protocol, sixteen ways to tie a cravat. It bogged a man down until he couldn’t move. But his mother would love it. She was itching to order people around. She’d already started talking about his valet, her maid, a cook, and more.

  A footman had just hung the knocker on the huge door and was now polishing it. The man stood on a stool, working a cloth in and around the details of the massive eagle clutching the knocker in its claws. Rather fearsome door decoration with its beak open on a silent scream. Dangerous on a ship. He’d be afraid someone would slip and impale himself. But, of course, they weren’t on a ship right now. And come to think of it, there was an eagle in the family crest.

  He wandered up, contemplating the bird, when the footman looked down from his perch and curled his lip.

  “What you looking at?” he demanded, his tone churlish.

  Radley raised a brow. “No need to be nasty, mate. I’m just having a look around.”

  “Nasty?” the man sneered. “This is the residence of the Duke of Bucklynde, and we don’t like blokes wandering around. Now get on with you.”

  Radley’s expression darkened. He’d forgotten why he never visited this area of town. It wasn’t just that the owners were filled with their own consequence, but the servants jealously guarded it as well. Whereas a viscount might grin happily at any passerby, his valet would likely call the watch if the stranger weren’t immediately deferential. And that was nothing compared to what a footman might say or do. Apparently, this footman was a prime example of exactly what he detested.

  So he leaned back and pursed his lips. “Now, that’s not very friendly,” he said. “You haven’t asked my name or if I have any business here. What if I were delivering something important for his grace?”

  “Then you’d know to be at the back door, you cur,” the man sneered.

  The back door for deliveries and the like. Of course. Stupid that he’d forgotten that. “I’m not delivering anything,” he said genially.

  “Now, there’s a surprise,” the footman snorted. “Get yourself gone, or I’ll call the watch.”

  “T
he watch? I’m not doing any harm.”

  “You’re harming the very air.” He sniffed in disgust as he descended from the step. The man was slightly taller than Radley, and he tried to use that to his advantage. He didn’t know that Radley could easily best him in a fair fight—or an unfair one for that matter.

  Radley shook his head in disgust. “I’m a first mate, and you would be wise to mind your tongue around strangers.”

  “Or what?” The footman bunched his fists threateningly.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” interrupted the butler. Just in time too, as Radley was considering decking the preening footman.

  He turned his attention to the older gentleman. The man had dark hair and narrowed eyes, but was otherwise unremarkable. Certainly, he looked dapper enough in his livery, but beyond a superior tilt to his chin, he seemed as unremarkable a man as any that might be found throughout this city.

  Radley frowned. “This man is threatening me with the watch when all I did was walk to the door to have a peek at this fine knocker.”

  The butler frowned, his gaze moving between the two, before landing on the footman. “Joseph, what’s the meaning of this?”

  “He’s a scurrilous man, no doubt planning to rob us blind in our sleep.”

  Radley laughed, allowing a full measure of scorn to slide into his voice. “Scurrilous? Robber? You deduced all that from my proper attire and polite conversation?” He turned his attention back to the butler. “Do you allow the staff to be rude to strangers?”

  The butler’s brows shot up, but he didn’t become obnoxious. If he had, Radley would have sacked them both. Instead, the man came back with a stiff but rational response. First he addressed the footman.

  “Joseph, please wait for me inside. Thank you.” Then he turned to Radley. “Now, if you will please explain to me if you have any business here, sir, I will see what I can do to assist you.”

  Radley allowed a soft smile to curve his lips. “Will he be disciplined? Or is this a normal attitude for the household?”

  “I don’t see why that would concern you. Now, I repeat, sir, what business do you have here?”

  “No business at all. I came to have a look around.” He would have ducked in the doorway then, just to see if he could get away with it. He didn’t because the butler was blocking the way with the obnoxious Joseph a step behind him. He focused on the footman, wanting to see his face when he said his next words. “I’m the new duke, and I’ll need a good reason not to sack you both.”