A Duke to Die for: The Rogues' Dynasty

by Amelia Grey

  “How noble,” Morgan said dryly.

  “And touching,” Race added, “and all the more reason for Gib to want to help her. She has asked others to help finance this project. So far, my man hasn’t found anyone who has agreed to give her money.”

  “So she really thinks she can make this business fly?” Blake asked.

  Morgan and Race looked at each other and started laughing. Blake was puzzled for a moment until he realized what he had said, and then he laughed, too. Leave it to his cousins to make him laugh when it was the last thing he felt like doing.

  “All right, enough making fun of me,” Blake said after their laughter died down. “How do we keep Gib from putting money into this scheme since we can’t prove Mrs. Simple has anything more sinister up her sleeve than just a dumb idea?”

  “We’ll leave that to you to handle however you see fit,” Race said. “Sound good to you, Morgan?”

  “Sounds very good to me.”

  “Cowards,” Blake muttered good-naturedly.

  “We just think you need something to think about other than Henrietta. You’re becoming a bore.”

  Blake grinned. “And you two are becoming obnoxious fools.”

  Blake spent a few more minutes outside with his cousins before going back inside the Great Hall. He glanced around the perimeter of the dance floor, searching for Henrietta or Constance, but didn’t see either of them. Walking farther into the room, he looked over to the dance floor and saw Henrietta.

  His blood turned cold in his veins. She was dancing with Lord Waldo Rockcliffe. He was the last person Blake wanted her dancing with. They stood in a long line and held hands with their arms in the air, forming a canopy for other couples to dance under. All Blake could think was that he didn’t want that bufflehead, hobbledehoy touching her. Blake had to restrain himself from rushing over and pulling her out of his grasp.

  It gave Blake the shivers to see Lord Waldo dancing with Henrietta and touching her hands, even though she wore gloves. He would just as soon see her with Rockcliffe himself or the fake Count Vigone.

  Blake was conflicted. It was so unlike him to care this much about someone. Never before had he minded sharing a woman’s affections with another man.

  As soon as Henrietta came off the dance floor, they were heading home. He had had all he could take for one night of her charming other men.

  While Henrietta finished the dance that seemed to be going on forever, Blake picked up their wraps, called for his carriage, found Constance, and informed her they were leaving.

  By the time Lord Waldo walked Henrietta over to him, Blake was calmer, but no less seething with jealousy.

  Lord Waldo thanked her for the dance and then turned to Blake and said, “Your Grace, might I have permission to take Miss Tweed for a ride in Hyde Park tomorrow afternoon?”

  Blake couldn’t believe the man actually had enough courage to ask, and from the way the poor devil was shaking, it took every ounce he had. It was on the tip of Blake’s tongue to say, ‘No way in hell, you bloody bastard. Get your mucky hands off her and keep them off,’ but instead, he stopped himself and studied the trembling sap with the pale brown eyes and pallid skin.

  Henrietta was probably safer with Lord Waldo than Lord Snellingly, Count Vigone, or anyone else. Surely, she couldn’t be interested in this man as a husband.

  “Very well,” Blake said. “A short ride, if Miss Tweed agrees.”

  And consider yourself one damned lucky man!

  Henrietta looked at Lord Waldo and said, “That would be lovely.” She turned to Constance and asked, “Will we be finished with all we have to do by half past three?”

  Constance smiled at her and said, “We’ll make sure that we are, my dear.”

  “Good, it’s settled. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Henrietta said to Lord Waldo.

  Lord Waldo said his good-byes and walked away with lightness in his step that set Blake’s teeth on edge. Did that fool really think he had caught Henrietta’s fancy? There was no way in hell Blake would believe that. She was too intelligent, too passionate, and much too strong to be attracted to him.

  Henrietta had something up her sleeve. He was sure of it.

  A few minutes later, they were in the carriage and on their way to take Constance home. Blake listened quietly as Constance and Henrietta talked about the different gentlemen she had danced with throughout the evening. His ears perked up when Constance asked specifically about Lord Waldo Rockcliffe.

  “I accepted his invitation to ride in the park simply because he was the first person to ask me,” Henrietta said, “just as Lord Snellingly was the first gentleman to ask me to dance this evening.”

  Blake smiled, feeling quite smug about her answer, until a terrifying thought entered his mind. What if Henrietta decided to marry the first man who asked her?

  “Did you find him attractive?” Constance asked.

  “Hmm. Yes.”

  Attractive? Lord Waldo? Really?

  Blake cut his eyes around to Henrietta. She was in the darkest part of the carriage so he couldn’t see her face very well.

  “But not more so than all the other gentlemen I danced with. He has a nervous, boyish charm about him that’s quite engaging.”

  Engaging? Lord Waldo? Would she marry him, if he was the first to ask her?

  That thought caused Blake to sit up a little straighter.

  “Since it’s my job to guide you, Henrietta, I will say that, as the younger brother of a duke, Lord Waldo would be a splendid match for you. You and your children would always live well. But, truthfully, he seems much too immature for you. You are very, shall we say, confident, and he is lacking in that area. I feel that, over time, you might find him too weak for you.”

  Hear, hear, Constance. I know she will.

  “There is something to be said for a husband who is malleable, is there not?” Henrietta asked.

  Constance looked over at Blake. He had a feeling they were thinking the same thing. Was Lord Waldo exactly the kind of husband Henrietta was looking for—someone she could mold to her own wishes and ideas?

  “You are right,” Constance said. “Your answer proves my point. You are much too clever for a gentleman such as Lord Waldo, my dear. But look, we’ve arrived at my house. We will continue this discussion at a later time. I think you will see my point once you’ve had an afternoon ride in the park with him.”

  They said their good nights, and Blake helped Constance down from the carriage and walked her to her door. Before he climbed back inside the cab, he told his driver to take the long way home and not to stop at the town house until he was given the signal to do so.

  Blake sat down beside Henrietta, rather than on the seat opposite her. He needed to be close to her. He had watched men hold her hand all evening. No doubt all of them squeezed her fingers affectionately, innocently let their fingers glide down her arms, or took other liberties when they danced with her. Blake knew all the tricks a man would try when he thought other eyes weren’t watching.

  Blake intended to touch her now and erase the memory of all the other men from her thoughts.

  The light in the carriage was damn poor. He could see very little of her face, but he could smell the soft womanly scent of her, and he felt her feminine warmth. He stared at her in the darkness and all his built-up apprehension from the events of the evening washed out of him.

  He was alone with Henrietta, and that is exactly what he had wanted all evening, to be totally alone with this beautiful, tempting woman.

  Her hair was arranged beautifully on top of her head with a delicate pink ribbon woven through her golden curls. The diamonds and pearls that dripped from her ears sparkled and glimmered in the dim light from the lantern outside the carriage. He knew that a single strand of pearls graced her neck, though he couldn’t see them for the fur around the collar of her cape.

  The footman had kept the cab warm with a bucket of hot coals, and the gentle rocking of the carriage as it rolled along the streets
was soothing. There was a dull ache in his shoulder and the side of his head where he’d scraped it earlier, but it wasn’t enough pain to keep him from wanting to pull Henrietta into his arms and kiss her. He was hungry for the drugging taste of her again.

  The only reason Blake could think that he wanted her so badly was because she should be off-limits to him. She was his ward. Forbidden fruit. But such tempting fruit.

  “How many men did you dance with tonight?” he asked as casually as possible, considering how tightly he was strung.

  “Perhaps eight or ten,” she answered just as casually.

  “How about twelve?”

  She smiled up at him and his heart fluttered.

  She laughed softly. “No, I’m sure it wasn’t that many.”

  “Probably more. I don’t think you missed a dance.”

  “I did try to accommodate all those who asked.”

  “And you adored the attention from all of them, didn’t you?”

  “Adored is not quite the right word. I accepted the attentions I received tonight.”

  “Did any of them squeeze your fingers or let their fingers glide down your arms?

  “That’s more than I want to answer, Your Grace.”

  “I know the answer.”

  And it drove me mad!

  “Perhaps now I can show you attention.”

  “I would like that—Your Grace!” she exclaimed. “You’re bleeding!”

  Blake swore, and dug into his pocket for his handkerchief. “Sorry about that. It’s just a little scratch.”

  “It’s not bleeding like a simple scratch. What happened?”

  He pressed the handkerchief to the wound. “It’s nothing to be alarmed about. An iron bar was hanging down from an archway, and in the darkness I didn’t see it. I scraped my head as I walked by.”

  “How many more mishaps will you have before you believe that your life is in danger as long as you are my guardian?”

  Blake sighed. “Henrietta, I lead an active life. I agree it seems as though too many things have happened to me since you arrived, but that is only because you make us so aware of them. They are only little ordinary things that happen to everyone.”

  She took the handkerchief from him and softly wiped beside his ear. “Lean down and let me take a closer look at it. It might need to be stitched if it continues to bleed.”

  “There is no need to look at it. I am fine.”

  She pressed the handkerchief to the wound again.

  “Your touch is gentle, Henrietta. I find that I like you more with every little mishap.”

  “The poisonous mushroom was not a little thing. The dislocated shoulder was not a little thing.” Her eyes searched his with tenderness. “Don’t you understand how I worry about you?”

  “I’m beginning to.” He took the handkerchief from her and put it back in his pocket.

  He wanted to kiss her, nothing more. Just kisses, he swore to himself as he dipped his head low and covered her mouth with his.

  Her lips were warm, soft, and inviting as they pressed against his in a slow lingering kiss that he was reluctant to break. She tasted of champagne and smelled of spring. He didn’t want to rush this exploration of desire with Henrietta, but his body was hungry for her. He deepened the kiss, and he loved it when she responded by instinct and parted her lips for him. His tongue darted inside her mouth and explored its depths with slow sensual movements.

  Desire grew inside him. He had to have a little more than kisses.

  He tugged on the ribbon of her fur-lined cape and pushed it off her shoulders with eager hands, exposing her lovely pearl-draped neck, softly rounded shoulders, and the tempting swell of her breasts to his view.

  Blake stared down at her loveliness. “Do you trust me not to hurt you?” His voice sounded far huskier than he intended.

  She touched his cheek. “I know you will not hurt me. I would trust you with my life.”

  He reached over and kissed her slender, beautiful neck and buried his nose in its softness. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his back, and he seemed to melt into the warmth of her exciting body.

  His lips found hers and kissed their way down her cheek, over her jawline to her neck, sending little shivers of exhilaration popping out all over her skin. At the touch of his moist lips upon the fullness of her breasts, her breaths jumped erratically.

  Blake grabbed hold of the bit of lace on her dress and her undergarment and pulled it down, exposing her breast. His mouth covered her nipple quickly, eagerly. He heard a contented groan but didn’t know if it came from him or Henrietta. His tongue flicked and played with her nipple as she squirmed and moaned beneath his touch.

  Blake could hardly keep himself in check. He had wanted to caress her breasts all day. He sucked and filled himself with the taste of her.

  She arched her back and gave him ample access. He fed upon her as his body throbbed, begging him to take more of her for his own.

  He only knew that being with her like this, wanting her for himself, felt right. It felt natural, and he didn’t want that feeling to go away. He wanted to act on it.

  A tremor of desire shook her body and Blake smiled. She was as affected by him as he was by her. That thrilled him immensely. And as much as he wanted, needed, to make her his, he couldn’t.

  Leaving her breast moist from his tongue, he brushed her lips with his, easing over them with the lightest contact. She opened her mouth and playfully caught his bottom lip with her teeth. His tongue thrust in deeply, sipping from her mouth. They teased each other with nips and kisses. With a loving hand, he raked his fingers down her rib cage and over her slim womanly hip and shapely thigh to press her tightly against his hardness.

  He had to fight the temptation to continue and make her his.

  Blake raised his head. His gaze swept down her face to her beautiful breast spread before him. Once again, he felt that unexpected longing for her. He felt something for her that went deeper than it ever had with any other woman, and he was troubled by it.

  His voice sounded husky and raw as he said, “You are so tempting, my beautiful Henrietta.”

  “Thank you,” she answered just as huskily as their eyes met and held.

  He pulled himself away from her and straightened in the seat. Blake forced his rigid body to relax. Calmly, he said, “You are inquisitive and eager for my touch and all that I can teach you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “I like that.” He pulled up the straps to her bodice, and then wrapped her cape around her shoulders as he said, “But I cannot teach you any more than I already have. That will be for your husband to do.”

  She sat up straight and said, “Yes, of course. I understand.”

  “Do you still want the attention of Lord Waldo?” Blake asked.

  “No, I mean, yes. I mean, I can’t answer that right now, Your Grace. I find that I am confused by my feelings.”

  So am I.

  “Perhaps it’s a good idea for you to reconsider and think a little longer before you decide you want to marry someone as malleable as Waldo.”

  She glanced at him. “Why?”

  “I don’t think there is any passion in him, while you are full of it.”

  Henrietta retied the ribbons of her cape into a bow. “I have very little knowledge of passion, Your Grace. I’m skeptical as to whether you are qualified to instruct me concerning it.”

  He chuckled. “Ah, but I have a lot of knowledge of passion. And believe me, passion is something you would not want to live without.”

  “Then perhaps I should consider Lord Snellingly as a suitable husband. He is handsome, he compliments me on my beauty, and he writes the most extraordinary poetry. He must be full of passion.”

  “Ha!” Blake muttered annoyingly. Sometimes Henrietta was just too intelligent for her own good. “Words on a piece of parchment or rhymes tumbled from the tongue are not passion.”

  “Perhaps I need to learn that for myself. I think I shall le
t Lord Snellingly know I would welcome a visit from him.”

  “You are a menace to my sanity, Henrietta.”

  She leaned against the cushion and stared straight ahead. ”I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

  Blake reached up with his fist and knocked the roof of the cab twice, signaling the driver to take them home.

  Seventeen

  Lucien, My Dearest Grandson,

  Read well these words of Lord Chesterfield and remember them: “The character which most young men first aim at is that of a man of pleasure, and pleasure is the rock which most young people split upon.”

  Your loving Grandmother,

  Lady Elder

  HENRIETTA SAT ON THE SETTEE IN THE DRAWING ROOM with Constance by her side and Lord Waldo in the melon-colored chair to her left. A huge bouquet of pink and white Persian lilies lay on the small table in front of her, a gift from Lord Waldo. She was surprised and disappointed that the duke wasn’t present for her visit with Lord Waldo before the two of them left for their carriage ride in Hyde Park.

  Constance had reminded Henrietta not to sit too close to Lord Waldo on the carriage seat and never to let his leg touch hers or even come in contact with her skirts while they were riding. If he should try to steal a kiss from her at any time during the afternoon, she was to avoid it if possible, but if she couldn’t, she was to make sure the kiss landed on her cheek and not her lips.

  Henrietta had already considered that possibility and decided that, should Lord Waldo try to kiss her, she would let him. She wanted to know if another man’s kiss would bring her the exquisite pleasure and wonderful excitement she felt with Blakewell’s kiss.

  The night before, she had realized that she needed to get serious about deciding on a man to marry, and she had to do it quickly. The duke might not believe in the curse that had claimed the lives of her previous guardians, but Henrietta did. Too many things had happened to him since she had arrived. The next incident might take his life, and while the duke was willing to take that chance, she wasn’t. She must free His Grace from the curse.