Last Night with the Duke

by Amelia Grey

  The smile on his face was gentle, and earnest. “Much better.”

  Esmeralda’s heart felt as if it were melting in her chest.

  “Now that I know you are an innocent, properly brought up young lady, and we are equals, I’m not supposed to kiss you either.”

  “Equals?” She harrumphed, her distaste for the power of peers rising inside her again. “You jest. Dukes are equal to no one but other dukes. Sisters are not equal to their viscount brothers, and I am certainly not equal to you.”

  He placed a finger on her lips to silence her and, rather than move away as she should have, she accepted his touch without a flinch.

  His gaze swept up and down her face as if searching for something. “We are social equals, Esmeralda. If you stay here, when I come over, I will want to kiss you again.” With the back of his palm he slowly, softly caressed her cheeks. First one and then the other.

  “Not even a duke should always get what he wants,” she countered.

  He smiled. “I will explain by showing you what I am nobly trying to save you from. I desire you, Esmeralda. With the intensity of a desperate drowning man swimming for dry land.”

  His expression was so tender it caused her breath to catch in her throat.

  He ran his thumb across her lips once, twice, three times. “I want to kiss you here on your beautiful lips.”

  She wanted that too.

  With the delicate touch, and without letting his fingers leave her heated skin, they skimmed down the column of her throat to the hollow at its base where they rested. “I want to kiss you here where your blood pulsates against my touch.”

  Yes.

  His hand slipped farther down and caught her breast up in his palm. Keeping his gaze settled on hers, he gently massaged her. Seconds ticked by before he said, “I want to kiss you here where I can feel your heart beating so fast beneath my hand it excites me.”

  With his gaze still penetrating hers, his hand moved down to her waist and cupped it briefly before moving around to let his open palm and splayed fingers rest firmly on her abdomen.

  A soft moan escaped her lips. She heard his breathing increase.

  He waited.

  Slowly his hand slid down her gown and cupped the apex of her legs.

  She gasped in surprise but didn’t move. She was still too engrossed by his seduction.

  “Your allure is great. I want to lie with you and make you mine. Now do you understand why you can’t stay here where you are so easily within my reach?”

  Esmeralda’s body tingled with the discovery of yet another new sensation. The duke’s hand was warm, firm, and strangely comforting, though it should be outrageously horrifying that he would touch her in such an intimate and inappropriate way and place. Yet she had no desire to ask him to move it.

  “If you’re trying to frighten me, it’s not working.”

  “It frightens me, Esmeralda.” His voice was low, husky, inviting. “You tempt me like no other lady ever has. Don’t you know that now that I have held you and kissed you, it will be even harder to stay away from you?” He lowered his hand, stepped away from her, and asked, “So what am I going to do with you?”

  “Leave me be. Don’t relieve me of my duty here. Let me stay here and continue watching over Lady Sara and Lady Vera.” She pressed harder, heedless of the fact she had no right to do so. “If you are a true man of honor, you will not go back on your word to me.”

  “Honor?” He smiled ruefully. “There are two honorable reasons I should have never touched you the first time. You are in my employ, and you are an innocent lady of noble birth. I have never pursued either with thought of seducing.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I’m not sure you do. I am a strong man, but still just a man. Your charm is almost impossible to resist.”

  “I understand the risks you have outlined so intimately, and I accept those risks.”

  “I can’t,” Griffin whispered and turned away.

  From somewhere deep inside her the courage to continue challenging him rose up. Perhaps it was because she’d poured her heart out to him and felt she was deserving of more from him in return, or maybe it was just that she had nothing to lose and so much to gain.

  Esmeralda quickly grabbed his arm and forced him to face her again. “You are a fair man. You must realize that if you dismiss me because of who you are and who I am it will be very difficult for me to find another post anywhere in London. I may even lose my position with Mr. Fortescue. If that happens, Josephine and I would have no place to live.”

  “You ask a lot of me, Esmeralda.”

  “I must. You relentlessly pursued me for this position, and now I must keep it.”

  His gaze raked across her face, and she shivered with a need she couldn’t explain.

  “All right, for now, you can stay and continue your duties. I can’t make any promises for the weeks to come.”

  “Fair enough,” she whispered.

  My Dearest Readers:

  The long-awaited debut of the Duke of Griffin’s twin sisters, Lady Sara and Lady Vera, came to an end last evening. And, yes, they are remarkably alike in appearance, manner, and temperament. However, whether or not the duke was aware of it, much attention was on him last night as well to see how ably he carried out his duties as guardian for his sisters. Conscientiously I’d say, much to the chagrin of all the young ladies who were hoping he’d forsake his post of watching over the twins for a dance with a lovely maiden. But perhaps the most scintillating gossip from the first ball of the Season wasn’t about the duke or his sisters. It centered on their intriguing chaperone, Miss Esmeralda Swift.

  MISS HONORA TRUTH’S WEEKLY SCANDAL SHEET

  Chapter 21

  Do listen to your friends. There’s a reason they aren’t your enemies.

  MISS MAMIE FORTESCUE’S DO’S AND DON’TS FOR CHAPERONES, GOVERNESSES, TUTORS, AND NURSES

  A noise disturbed Esmeralda’s slumber. She retreated from it, but it came again.

  She moaned contentedly and snuggled deeper into her covers. If she had to get up, she might as well be thinking about last night with the duke and remember his strong embrace, commanding caresses, and devouring kisses that touched deep into her soul.

  The annoying sound came again.

  Her eyes opened to bright sunshine streaming through the open draperies. Startled, she rose up in bed, brushing her long hair from her eyes. There was a strange woman tying back the drapery panels. Esmeralda didn’t recognize her as one of the servants. And no one had ever come in to wake her anyway.

  The robust woman wore an expensive-looking light blue dress and a dark blue hat with an outlandish amount of dyed leaves and feathers on it and colorful ribbons poking out of the crown.

  “Excuse me,” Esmeralda said, pulling the sheet up past her shoulders. “I think you are in the wrong room.”

  The small, sturdy, black-haired woman turned to face her. Her eyebrows were thick, wide, and very black. She smiled broadly. “Ah, Mademoiselle, you are awake.”

  How could I not be with so much light streaming into the room?

  “Good, I asked that some tea be brought up for you. We must begin at once. There can be no delay.”

  Two more ladies, just as beautifully dressed as the Frenchwoman, walked into her open bedchamber door, their arms laden with stacks of fabrics, pelts of lace, and reams of ribbons.

  “What is this?” Esmeralda asked. “And who are you?”

  The woman smiled again. “Of course, I am Madame Donceaux. I’m here to dress you for the duke.”

  Dress me?

  For Griffin!

  As if last night with the Duke hadn’t been emotional enough with his kisses and caresses that she’d never forget. There was also the baring of her soul about Josephine’s father, and her arguing and demanding of Griffin that she retain her position in his household. Now, he was making demands of his own. If she had more gowns made, she’d never be able to pay him back.

  “The D
uke was banging on my door so early this morning. Eager he was that I should come to you at once.” Madame Donceaux motioned for the women to put their wares on the foot of the bed while she continued to talk to Esmeralda. “He told me you must have a new gown ready tonight. That will be difficult, but we can do. We must hurry. No time to waste. Up, up.”

  “He should have asked me if I wanted a new gown,” she said more to herself than to the dressmaker.

  “Why should a gentleman like the duke have to ask to gift you such beautiful gowns. It is his right, no? It will make you happy.”

  No, it didn’t make her happy that he’d decided to take it upon himself to have more gowns made for her.

  “Wait a minute, I will not have this.”

  “Fine, fine,” the woman said and drew back the covers away from Esmeralda. “Keep talking, but stand so I can get measurements. We have no time.”

  Perturbed, and not knowing exactly what to do first, Esmeralda scooted off the bed and stood up, ready to do battle.

  “It would be better for you to remove your, your night rail. Better to measure.”

  “I am not taking off my shift,” she said indignantly, knowing she didn’t have a stitch on beneath the white long-sleeved sleeping gown.

  “Good. I will measure anyway.” The woman immediately lifted Esmeralda’s arms in the air, whipped a strip of white cloth from a sash around her waist, and circled Esmeralda’s waist before she knew what had happened. “Don’t look at me,” she said to Esmeralda, pointing to the end of the bed. “I measure. You look at fabrics. Which you like?”

  “But wait. I told you I don’t want to do this. I have gowns. Beautiful, well-made gowns.”

  “Oh, I am sure. But they are gray.” She called out a measurement in French to one of the ladies, who marked it on a card with a pencil. “The duke say, no gray. No gray. I tell him I understand, no gray.” She measured around Esmeralda’s breasts and gave the measurement again.

  “No, no, Mademoiselle. Do not look what I do,” she said again. “Look at the exceptional fabrics. How luxurious they are. The pale yellow. You like it?”

  “It’s lovely, but—”

  “Good. I thought so. It will make your eyes so beautiful. The duke will be happy. And the gold trim, right?” She measured from under Esmeralda’s breasts to the top of her foot, and called out more measurements to her helper. “At the waist and perhaps the hem too? No. I think that the hem too much. Right? Cap sleeves, I think. We’ll put it on the sleeve.”

  Madame Donceaux was answering her own questions as she moved her piece of measuring cloth from one part of Esmeralda’s body to another almost as fast as a whirlwind.

  “What about the lavender fabric? The blue? No, no, with your eyes, the green is better for you. I will make green. And the dark ivory? That one too? You will be stunning.”

  Esmeralda spun away from the modiste. “Now, wait a minute. Just how many gowns do you think you are going to make?”

  Madame Donceaux looked confused. “As many as you want.”

  “Fine. I want one. The yellow one.”

  The dressmaker laughed a deep throaty laugh. “No, no, Mademoiselle. The duke—”

  “I don’t care what the duke said. Now, you have your measurements, it’s time for you to go.”

  “Good.” She smiled as if Esmeralda’s irritable temperament hadn’t bothered her at all. “I will go. I will choose fabrics for you that show your beauty. Not gray.” She motioned for her helpers to gather up the fabrics and trimmings. And then, instead of leaving the room, she walked over to Esmeralda’s wardrobe and started pulling out her dresses and gowns and throwing them over her arm.

  This woman was unbelievable. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking the gray with me. The Duke say, take the gray.”

  Did he! “You can’t do that. Those are my clothes.”

  She smiled. “I will bring you more, Mademoiselle. Blues, greens, corals. Before the day has ended, I will be back.”

  Esmeralda tried to grab hold of her clothing, but the modiste swung away from her and made a run for the door. Esmeralda dashed in front of her and blocked the entrance. “You are not taking my clothing. I need those.”

  A worried expression etched its way across Madame Donceaux’s face. “I do what the duke tells me. He says take the gray.”

  “Oh, yes. The duke loves to tell people what to do, but I say no.”

  “Good,” she said again. “These go with me.”

  “No.”

  “I have left you enough for today.”

  Esmeralda grabbed hold of the clothing, but the modiste gathered them up tightly to her chest in a fierce grip. Madame Donceaux’s helpers stood to one side looking horrified at the tug of war between Esmeralda and the French dressmaker.

  “What are you two doing?”

  Esmeralda turned to see Lady Sara and Lady Vera, also in their nightclothes, watching her and Madame Donceaux fight over the clothing.

  “You two sound like us when we are fighting over something,” Lady Vera said.

  Esmeralda silently groaned when she suddenly realized how ridiculous she must look. The dressmakers grip didn’t loosen, so Esmeralda’s did.

  “Let her have them, Miss Swift,” Lady Vera said. “It will be pleasant to see you in another color. Isn’t that right, Sara?”

  Sara walked over to one of the ladies holding the fabrics and pulled a frothy parchment-colored material from her hands. “This will match your coloring perfectly, Miss Swift.”

  Knowing she’d lost the battle, Esmeralda relented and slowly let go of the gowns and dresses and stepped away from the modiste. “What will you do with them?” she asked the woman.

  “Charitable hospital is always in need of clothing. Will that please Mademoiselle?”

  Esmeralda inhaled deeply and lifted her shoulders. “Yes. That will please me greatly.”

  Chapter 22

  Don’t speak for anyone other than yourself.

  MISS MAMIE FORTESCUE’S DO’S AND DON’TS FOR CHAPERONES, GOVERNESSES, TUTORS, AND NURSES

  The afternoon tea party was elite, lavish, and noisy. True to her word, Miss Irene Froste had befriended Lady Sara and Lady Vera by first having just the two of them over for afternoon tea a week ago and today by inviting them to a garden soirée at her home. More than two dozen beautifully dressed young ladies and handsomely dapper gentlemen sat at white linen–covered tables that held a small bouquet of roses in the center of each one. A trio of musicians had been set up at the far end of the small lawn, but the soft, mellow sounds coming from the harp, violin, and viola were no match for the cheerful chatter and laughter, or the teacups and spoons clinking against saucers.

  The sky had been threatening rain all afternoon. Moist air held a chill. The gloomy day hadn’t dampened the enthusiasm of the small group. Esmeralda stood off to the side talking with other chaperones and some of the mothers who had accompanied their daughters to the gathering. She occasionally added to the conversations about gowns, parties, and what gentlemen were interested in which young ladies, and what the fathers had to say about the match. However, more often than not, Esmeralda remained quiet and let her thoughts drift in other directions.

  Over the past two weeks of the Season, there had been relatively few questions and little mention of the fact she was cousin to the ailing Viscount Mayeforth. She had expected more gossip about that revelation. One lady had asked how she managed to obtain the prized position of chaperone for the Duke of Griffin’s sisters while another had suggested she must have known someone in the family. Still another had said that the duke wouldn’t have allowed anyone with a lesser social standing than the cousin of a viscount to get anywhere near his sisters.

  Esmeralda accepted all their comments with a smile and was thankful they left Josephine out of their observations. Not one of them seemed to know she was found through the highly trusted Miss Mamie Fortescue’s Employment Agency. She had no desire to enlighten them.

  They were into
the third week of the Season and all was well. There had been no further mishaps with Josephine or Napoleon, for which she was grateful. Both had settled into a regular routine quite nicely.

  For all of Lady Vera’s bluster insisting Lord Henry was the man she wanted, she had the strangest way of showing it. She’d rebuffed him earlier in the week when he asked if he could take her for a ride in the park, citing it was much too early in the Season for such a forward outing. Which of course wasn’t true at all.

  Mr. Lambert was clearly besotted with Lady Sara, and Esmeralda felt Lady Sara had given up on Lord Henry and was smitten with Mr. Lambert too.

  The Duke of Rathburne and the Duke of Hawksthorn had both sought Esmeralda out at times to greet her, to ask about the twins, and to offer to get her a glass of champagne. Despite the fact they were dukes, rakes of the highest order and terribly spoiled by always getting what they wanted, she’d enjoyed and even welcomed their repartee with her each evening. Neither had asked her to dance again.

  So far there had been no further talk from Griffin about dismissing her from his household, for which she was grateful. He arrived in the evenings, handsomely dressed, to escort her and his sisters to the parties, then left without coming inside after delivering them back home. During the course of each evening, they would discuss the twins, the gentlemen pursuing them, and little else.

  At times, she’d catch him looking at her, and then at other times, he’d caught her watching him. There was an undercurrent of tension between them that hadn’t surfaced. They’d both done quite well in keeping their personal feelings and thoughts to themselves.

  The only thing that had bothered her was the fact the duke hadn’t made one comment concerning her new gowns. She felt certain she’d seen glowing appreciation for her in his eyes the first time he’d seen her wearing a color other than gray, but he said nothing.

  Several times she’d watched him dance with Miss Froste and Miss Waldegrave too. And at least twice he’d invited Lady Agatha to join him for a quadrille. All the young ladies were beautiful, poised, and more than acceptable as brides, if he was looking. She could only hope that the envy that bubbled up inside her chest every time she saw him with one of the young ladies didn’t show on her face.