Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

by Julia Justiss

  Had he been a hellion? A little thrill went through her as she studied him from under the cover of her lashes. He was certainly virile enough to excite a woman’s desire. Had he cut a swathe through the ladies of Oxford?

  She found herself feeling jealous of any female he’d favoured with his amorous attentions.

  ‘Having served with the army in India,’ his words recalled her, ‘Ben was something of a rabble-rouser, and Christopher was always a favourite with the ladies. Giles and I generally didn’t have enough blunt to kick up too many larks, one of the reasons we pooled our resources and began rooming together early on. We helped each other, too, once it came time to campaign. As you may know, your brother-in-law, the Marquess, gave me his generous support when I stood for the seat under Sir Edward’s control in Hazelwick, for which I’m grateful.’

  ‘How could Nicky, or anyone else, listen to you explain your views, and not be persuaded? You certainly convinced me that summer! How close are you to accomplishing your aims?’

  ‘A new Parliament convened in June, filled overwhelmingly with supporters of reform. We’re very hopeful that by later this autumn, we’ll finally get a bill passed.’ He gave her a wry grimace. ‘There are still recalcitrants who seek to delay us by bringing up an endless series of irrelevant discussions. Sometimes I’d like to knock a few heads together in the committee room, like I did last night on the street!’

  ‘You were certainly effective there!’ she declared, shuddering a little as she recalled how close to disaster she’d come. ‘So there will be a change in the way the country is governed, for the first time since the medieval era? How exciting!’

  ‘It is exciting, to know you can influence the governance of the nation.’

  She gave a wry smile. ‘I have enough difficulty exerting influence in the mundane matters of everyday life.’

  ‘As duchess? Surely not!’

  She hesitated, tempted to continue, though she really shouldn’t confide in him. She’d had to struggle these last miserable years to transform the open, plain-spoken girl she’d once been into a woman who kept her own counsel. But the warmth of his regard, and that inexplicable sense of connection that seemed to have survived the years they’d been apart, pulled at her.

  How long had it been since she’d had anyone to talk to, anyone who truly cared about her feelings or her needs?

  Compelled by some force she didn’t seem able to resist, she explained, ‘Ashedon’s housekeeper has been there since his mother’s day, and is ferociously competent. Since my husband supported her authority, I barely had more to do than arrange flowers and approve menus. Now that my mother-in-law has returned to Ashedon Place, challenging Mrs West’s years of unopposed domination, the two are in a constant battle for control, a struggle that frequently traps me in the middle.’ She sighed. ‘And then, there’s the boys.’

  ‘Your sons? Is your mother-in-law trying to take them over, too?’ he guessed. ‘How difficult that must be for you.’ Almost absently, he put his hand over hers, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. ‘But as their mother, you must make sure your will prevails.’

  She ought to remove her hand. But that simple touch evoked such a powerful surge of emotion—gratitude for his compassion, relief at his understanding, and a heady wave of sensual awareness that intensified that sense of connection. She could no more make herself pull away than she could march back home and evict the Dowager.

  ‘I am trying,’ she said, savouring the titillating, forbidden feel of her hand enclosed in his. ‘As I told you before, the Duke didn’t consider it proper for his Duchess to hang about the nursery, an impediment to Nurse and the maids going about their duties.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘I was reduced to visiting at night, tiptoeing past the sleeping maid to sit at the foot of their beds and study their little faces in the darkness. Since Ashedon’s death, I’ve worked to find ways to spend more time with them, but I’ve had to fight Carlisle, the tutor Ashedon installed, at every turn. My increased involvement with the boys was the first thing the Dowager criticised when she invaded us. I’ve held my ground—the first and only time I’ve defied her—but she reinforces Carlisle as much as she can, making it as difficult as possible.’

  ‘Bravo for resisting her! That can’t have been pleasant. Now you just need to figure out better ways to get round the tutor.’

  ‘Yes. And to keep the boys away from their uncle—an even worse example of manhood than my late husband, which is the truth, even if it’s not kind of me to say so.’ She grimaced, remembering the feel of Lord Randall’s hands biting into her shoulders as he tried to force her into that kiss. ‘Since his mother has taken up residence, he seems to think he can drop in whenever he wishes, usually to dine, or to borrow money from his mother. One of the few things Ashedon and I agreed on was that his brother is a wastrel who will spend as much of the family fortune as he can get his hands on.’

  ‘Then you definitely need to get the boys away more. There are so many places they might enjoy—the British Museum, riding in the parks, Astley’s Amphitheatre—even Parliament.’ He lifted a brow at her. ‘The young Duke will take his place in the Lords there, some day.’

  ‘Ready to persuade him to join your coalition?’ she teased, immeasurably cheered by his sympathetic support.

  ‘It’s never too early to start.’ Smiling, he raised her hand, as if to kiss it. And only then seemed to realise he’d been holding it.

  He sucked in a breath as he looked down at their joined hands, then up to meet her gaze, and his grip tightened. In an instant, a touch meant to offer comfort transformed into something more primal, as heat and light blazed between them, palpable as the flash of lightning, the rumble of thunder before a storm.

  In his eyes blazed the same passion she’d glimpsed earlier. The same passion she felt, building in a slow conflagration from her core outward. Struck as motionless as he, she could only cling to his fingers, relishing every atom of that tiny bit of contact between them.

  Slowly, as if he found it as difficult to break the connection as she had earlier, his grip eased and he let her go. His ardent expression turned troubled, and for a moment, she was terribly afraid he would apologise.

  Which would be beyond enduring, since she wasn’t sorry at all.

  He opened his lips and hesitated, as if searching for words. Watching his mouth, her mind obsessed by imagining the feel of it against hers, she was incapable of finding any herself.

  At last, he cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps you could take your sons to call on your sister, Lady Englemere? She’s in town with the Marquess for Parliament, I expect. Let the boys become better acquainted with their cousins?’

  He looked back down at their now separate hands as he spoke, as if he regretted as much as she did the need to break that link between them.

  Forcing her attention back to his words, she replied, ‘At the moment, they aren’t acquainted at all. I don’t even know if Sarah is in London; she may still be in the country.’ Faith grimaced. ‘Lucky her. The thing I’ve hated most about life as a duchess is being trapped in London, far from the “unfashionable” countryside Ashedon despised and I love so much.’

  Davie nodded. ‘I seem to remember a penchant for riding in breeches and climbing trees.’

  That observation brought her a smile. ‘Yes. We used to climb that big elm in Cousin Joanna’s garden, and I’d read you poetry. There were a few early-morning races on horseback, too, I recall, before Joanna found out and made me ride at a more decorous pace, on side-saddle.’ Nostalgia for that carefree past welled up. ‘How I miss those days,’ she said softly.

  ‘Avoid looking back by building something better to look forward to,’ Davie advised quietly.

  She glanced back at him, seeing sympathy overlay the passion in his eyes. ‘Like you are doing for the nation.’

  ‘Like you can do for yourself
. You are free now, Faith. Free to remake the future as you choose.’

  And what would she choose, if she were completely free? Desire resurged, strong and urgent. What if I said I wanted you, now?

  But of course, she did not say that. ‘I may be freer,’ she replied. ‘But with the Dowager, and my sons’ futures to protect, I’ll never truly be free of the shadow of being Duchess. Never truly free to choose only what I want.’

  She gazed at him, willing him to understand what she could not say. Perhaps he did, for his face shuttered, masking whatever response her answer aroused in him.

  ‘Then, as in Parliament, you must strike the best deal you can get with the opposition, so all can move forward. Speaking of which, I’m afraid I must get back.’

  A sharp pang of regret made her want to protest. Suppressing it, she said, ‘Of course. You have important work waiting. Which just reinforces how trivial my little problems are. How I wish I could observe you making those real, significant changes!’

  ‘There’s nothing more important to the future of the nation than you raising your boys properly! But if you would be interested in hearing some conversation about the Reform Bill, Lady Lyndlington still plays hostess for her father. I’m sure she would be delighted to include you in one of their discussion evenings. With it being hosted by a marquess, I don’t think the Dowager could object to your attending. Shall I ask Lady Lyndlington to send you an invitation?’

  Oh, to spend an evening where people talked about important ideas, where, among statesmen and diplomats, a mere society female whose opinions were of little value would be ignored. Where she’d be able to sit quietly and just observe. And escape, for an evening, all the petty problems that pricked at her daily.

  ‘It sounds fascinating, but...would you be there, too? It would be rather intimidating to attend such a gathering of intellectuals, having only a slight acquaintance with all those present.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll have met most of them at various society gatherings. But, yes, if it would make you feel easier, I could make sure I’m invited as well.’

  ‘Then, I should love it! If you’re certain Lady Lyndlington wouldn’t find it impertinent of me to request an invitation? I’ve met her, of course, but could hardly claim to call her a friend.’

  ‘I imagine she would be delighted of your company, but I will ask. Now, we should probably be getting you back as well. Shall I send you a note after I’ve spoken to Lady Lyndlington?’

  Glancing over at the clock, Faith noticed to her surprise that they had been chatting for some time. ‘Yes, I should go, too. I’d prefer to already be at home before my mother-in-law returns from the Park, and the inquisition begins.’

  Hating to bring their time together to an end, Faith made herself rise. ‘How can I ever thank you enough? Rescuing me not once, but twice, and then offering the promise of a stimulating evening.’

  ‘It would give me the greatest delight to stimulate you.’

  Her eyes flew to his face, and though it coloured a little at the blatant double entendre, he didn’t apologise, nor did he retract the remark. Instead, he simply looked at her, giving her another glimpse of heat before masking his gaze.

  Arousal returned in a rush. How easily she could imagine the delight his ‘stimulation’ would bring her!

  She wanted to reply in kind, to make clear she understood and shared his desire. But so inexperienced was she in flirtation, before she could come up with some cleverly suggestive remark, he said, ‘I hope you’ll enjoy a political evening at Lord Witlow’s even half as much as I have enjoyed this conversation. I’ll send you a note as soon as I’ve spoken with Lady Lyndlington.’

  She suppressed a sigh, irritated that she’d let the opportunity slip. Accepting his redirection of the conversation back into proper channels, she said, ‘Thank you again. I’ve enjoyed our conversation, too. We mustn’t let our friendship lapse again, must we?’

  Friendship...and perhaps more? He offered his arm, and she took it, a little surge of energy flashing between them the instant her fingers touched him. As he escorted her out, she was once again intensely aware of his virile presence beside her, the strength, confidence and sense of purpose that seemed to radiate from him.

  Ah, yes, her Davie had grown up, and the man he’d become fascinated—and attracted—her. Regardless of the potential danger of that attraction and the possible objections from her mother-in-law about being in his company, she couldn’t wait to spend more time with him.

  Chapter Three

  After seeing the Duchess safely off in a hackney, Davie started walking. He should go back to the committee room, but after spending time with Faith, he was too energised, excited—and aroused—to be able to recapture yet the calm and imperturbable mask he wore when doing political work.

  And partly, he admitted to himself, he wanted to savour the rare experience of spending time with her. Let himself linger and recall each moment, like a collector taking a precious object out of a treasure box, to admire and examine again and again.

  As a girl, she’d glowed with an infectious joy in life that drew people to her, like an inn’s beacon attracts travellers on a cold, dark night. He recalled her fixing that warm, intense gaze on him while he spoke, as if he were the most fascinating individual in the universe. To feel like the sole focus of attention of so beautiful and intelligent a girl—small wonder he’d tumbled head over heels.

  It hurt his heart to see how sadness had dimmed that glow. But though the fire might have burned low, embers remained. He felt compelled to give her the encouragement and opportunities that would fan those sparks to a blaze again.

  Just this one short meeting proved to him it was possible. Offered his understanding and support, and the prospect of an evening away from her usual society duties, she had unconsciously straightened, her expression brighter, her smile warmer, while in her eyes, a guarded enthusiasm grew.

  He couldn’t wait to see that progress continue, when she actually attended such a gathering.

  He shouldn’t have made that remark about ‘stimulating’ her, though the desire coursing through him had been too strong for him to rescind it, inappropriate as it was. She’d been lovely enough, swaddled in her cape in the dimness of lamplight last night; upon seeing her in full daylight, in that grey gown that accented her curves and brought out the brilliance of her blue eyes, he would have to have been made of stone not to have wanted her more than ever. The slender beauty he’d loved for so long had grown into a powerfully alluring woman.

  Though she’d not known how to reply to his suggestive remark, she hadn’t rebuffed him. Quite the contrary; leaning closer, her lips parting slightly, her gaze heating, he had read in her response that the passion he felt was reciprocated.

  Probably not with the same intensity, he conceded. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a primal masculine satisfaction upon discovering that the lady he prized above all others found him attractive, both as a friend and as a man. But knowing that she would welcome his touch would also make it harder to hold under control a body already ravenous to taste her.

  Because that absolutely could not happen. An affair between two individuals from such radically different levels of society was too delicious a piece of gossip not to eventually become known, no matter how careful they were about meeting. Much as he wanted her, he loved her more. He would not tarnish her honour—or his—with an affair that would make her the target of the malicious, or give her mother-in-law further reason to disparage her or question her fitness to bring up her sons.

  Besides, an affair would never be enough for him. Having all of her for a time and then being forced to give her up would be unendurable.

  Better to live with the ache he knew, re-establish their friendship, and use that position to enrich her life as best he could. Even if she would never be his, he wanted her to be happy.

>   Still not ready to return to the committee room, where he would have to banish Faith’s image and the memories of today’s meeting, he considered going back to Albany to write Lady Lyndlington a note. But then he’d have to wait upon her reply before he could communicate with Faith, and he didn’t want to wait.

  Why not call upon his friend’s wife now? She would most likely be either at her town house in Upper Brook Street, or her father’s home in Cavendish Square.

  Energised by the prospect of being able to move forward his scheme, Davie hurried to the hackney stand and engaged a jarvey to take him to Upper Brook Street.

  * * *

  To his relief, Lady Lyndlington was at home, although the butler informed him this wasn’t a day when she would normally receive guests. Insisting that he was close enough a friend of the master for that restriction not to apply to him, he persuaded the butler to convey him to the Blue Salon and to enquire whether her ladyship could spare him a few minutes.

  Davie paced the parlour, too agitated to sit. He was certain his friend’s wife would take the Duchess under her wing, and impatient to learn when they could begin.

  ‘Davie, what a pleasant surprise,’ Lady Lyndlington said as she walked in, giving him her hands to kiss. ‘That is, everything is all right? Giles hasn’t suffered any injury—’

  ‘No, no, Giles is fine! I’m sorry if my sudden appearance worried you, Maggie. It’s just, I had a favour to ask, and since I was out, rather than send you a note, I thought I’d try to catch you at home and deliver the request in person.’

  Her worried countenance relaxed as she waved him to a seat. ‘If it’s within my power, I would be happy to grant it. What do you need?’

  ‘I recently ran into—almost literally—an old friend. Faith Wellingford—you would know her as the Duchess of Ashedon.’

  ‘The Duchess? I didn’t know you were acquainted!’