The Good, the Bad, and the Duke

by Janna MacGregor

  The Pembrooke footman opened the carriage door, and she descended the steps with determination in her every move. She paused at the view of Paul’s home. The perfect symmetry of the yellow-brick building always took her breath away. It was breathtaking, just like Paul.

  She passed the front door and walked to the left side of the massive Palladian mansion. The Pembrooke footman kept a respectable five steps behind her. Once she was inside the mansion, she’d wave the footman away, then find Paul. Even if she had to wake him from his slumber, she’d find him and discover the truth. One look at his eyes, and she’d know immediately what he felt for her.

  A small set of stairs led to a terrace with a large set of French doors. Directly inside was Paul’s library. Once Daphne was in the house, it’d be easy to find the private staircase she and Paul had used when they’d escaped to his room and made love. Her chest ached at the memory. His tenderness, devotion, and love that night were gifts she’d never forget. Nor would she allow him to ignore and erase what they were creating—a love rare and true.

  She turned the handle of the door, and miraculously it was unlocked. She turned toward Duncan, the footman, and nodded. With a bow of his head, he retreated.

  Daphne closed her eyes and summoned every speck of bravery and fearlessness she possessed, then went inside.

  A huge welcoming fire roared in the fireplace. Two lovely wingback upholstered chairs flanked the hearth. Her breath caught when she saw Paul relaxing in one. To her complete surprise, he showed no reaction to her breaking into his household. In fact, he didn’t spare a glance her way.

  As if approaching a wounded animal, she carefully closed the distance between them, then knelt by his side. Gently, she reached out and touched his knee. “Paul?”

  Their eyes met, and the tenderness in his expression startled her. This was not the man who had cast her aside earlier.

  With infinite care, he reached out with one hand and caressed her cheek. “Have my thoughts magically evoked your image? Are you real?”

  She leaned into his hand, then pressed a kiss against his palm. “Do I feel real?”

  “Daphne,” he whispered.

  The vibrancy in his voice made her heart beat in a mad dance. “Marry me,” she whispered in return.

  Slowly, he shook his head. “It will never work. I’ll not see you suffer because of the truth of my birth.” His voice faded to a hushed stillness.

  “Do you think I give one whit about your past or your birthright?” Gently, Daphne picked up Rufina, then placed the purring kitten in the matching chair. Without hesitating, she took both of his hands in hers and started to kneel at his feet. With nary a word, he pulled her into his lap.

  “You should,” he whispered as he ran his lips over the top of her head.

  “All I care about is the man you’ve become and our future together.” She tilted her head and met his gaze. “You could be a butcher, a baker, or a blacksmith and I wouldn’t care. Just as long as we were together.”

  He exhaled. “I’m a bastard and not worthy of your love.”

  “Paul, that’s such nonsense. I don’t care who your father is. Surely you don’t believe that I do.” She took his cheek in her hand.

  The virile, lovely man before her doubted his worth. How could she ever make him realize how special he was? She searched his eyes. The pain and longing reflected in the gorgeous blue depths were acute. The sight made all her defenses rally in support to prevent him from hurting.

  She rested her forehead against his for a moment. Once she sensed his guard lowered, she drew back until their gazes met. “My place is by your side. You’re the one man in this entire world who’s helped me heal. The one man who made me believe in myself.” She caressed his cheek once more. “The one man who sees me. I’ll not let you go. Nor will you let me go. Our love is too powerful. It’s too precious to throw away.”

  He bit his bottom lip, then reached across the side table next to the chair. A letter and her journal were the only articles present. He picked up the letter. “I went to Robbie’s room after I found your journal. These”—he passed the missive to her—“are his last written words. I don’t think I can read it and withstand the grief. Undoubtedly, it contains more bad news about my birth.”

  Daphne opened the letter. After scanning several lines, she knew Paul had to hear from his brother and began to read aloud.

  My dearest brother,

  By now, you’ve probably received Father’s last letter. He was adamant that you know everything. As we both know, he was a master at leaving out the pertinent details. Allow me to reveal the whole truth of your birth.

  Paul, never doubt how greatly you were loved. Our wonderful mother and I would have done anything for you. We’d have given anything to spare you the pain you must be suffering now. But one thing is for certain—you, dear brother, were always the love of Mother’s life. It was her way to make up for her past mistake.

  The old duke couldn’t show much affection, but please hear me out—never question whether he loved you. He just loved you in his own way. As best he could, the duke accepted you and raised you as a Southart because he loved Mother. I can see you now shaking your head. No, it’s true. The old man did love her. He told me so on numerous occasions after her passing.

  You may wonder why I never said a word about the truth. I thought I’d have more time. I wanted you to make amends with your friends first before I uttered a word. I knew you’d be hurt, most likely devastated. I thought they’d be a source of strength and comfort for you when I’m gone. I’m sorry that I’m not there for you now.

  Please remember—it takes a true gentleman to own up to his mistakes, but it takes a real man to be able to forgive.

  I hope you can forgive Father, Mother, and me for not sharing this truth with you. Please, learn to love yourself for who you are—an intelligent and fair man who will bring great success to the Southart duchy.

  Most important, I hope you can forgive yourself. Become the man you were always destined to be—not the one you think Southart or I wanted you to become.

  I never said it in life—one of my deepest regrets—but let me say it now. I love you. Always remember that.

  I know you love me.

  I’m proud to call you brother.

  With those last words, the room grew silent. Hot tears fell with abandon as she tried to gauge Paul’s reaction. The love Robbie felt for Paul reverberated around the room. “There’s nothing else,” she whispered and took his hand in hers.

  He bent his head and studied their intertwined fingers.

  “Marry me.” She squeezed his fingers tight. “Let’s make each other happy forever.”

  He exhaled as if in pain and rubbed a hand over his face. Gently, he rose and set her carefully away from him. “I can’t.” He turned and slowly walked to the door.

  If she didn’t do something, she’d lose him forever. Without second-guessing her decision, she ran after him and grabbed his arm.

  The lack of his regard seared her resolve, but she fought it. “Yes, you can.”

  He stopped and turned to face her.

  “I’ll never believe you can’t. I see it in your eyes. You want me.”

  “You’re better than me.”

  She winced slightly at the acute sound of pain in his voice. He grabbed her as if he’d not let go, then just as quickly set her free.

  At his abruptness, she almost fell, but kept her footing.

  Both were panting as if they’d run a race against each other—his, the result of anguish; hers, because she’d not let him go.

  “No, you’re wrong. I’m not better than you. I’m the same as you,” she challenged.

  “I’m trying to do what is right for us under a very difficult set of circumstances.” The deep roughness of his voice reminded her of freshly cut wood. Appropriate since he was determined to cut her from his life and, like a splinter, she refused to let go.

  “I’ll not let you destroy what we’re building to
gether,” she answered. “Sometimes doing what’s right is the easiest thing to do—easier than you might think.”

  He stood motionless as if frozen in place.

  A spark of hope ignited in her chest. He’d referred to them as “us.” Such a small word, yet it held great power.

  It meant they were still together—as a couple.

  It gave her the courage to move to his side and take his hand in hers. “Plus, I agree with your brother. You are an intelligent and loving man. I’ve been the recipient of your goodness for years. You deserve happiness. Let me give you that for the rest of our lives.”

  He stared at their entwined hands, then lifted his gaze to hers. The torture reflected in his eyes made her want to rail at Southart for inflicting doubt in his own self-worth.

  “I’m not honorable. I’ve read parts of your diary, the ones that pertained to me.” He lifted his other hand as she started to protest. “I promised, but it fell open when I dropped it.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “You were far too generous in your descriptions of me.”

  “Never. I could wane on ad nauseam about all your wonderful and brilliant qualities.” She laughed, but her heartbeat pounded with encouragement—telling her to fight for them. She tugged at his hand.

  He gently untangled his fingers from hers and rubbed his hand over his face. The action betrayed his weariness, or perhaps his wavering to send her away. She could only hope that was the reason.

  “I broke a promise to you. I read your journal. Not the parts about Alice, but the parts about myself. Proof of my wretchedness. Once a vain peacock, always a vain peacock.”

  Not willing to let him slip away, she took his hand in hers again. “I’m glad you read it.” She searched his eyes for any sign of rebuff and found only tenderness. “It’s the essence of me. You know who I am with all my flaws and imperfections. I never want to go back to hiding. Do you still”—her throat tightened, and she squeezed his hand—“love me?”

  He searched her eyes. For a moment, she believed he could see what was in her heart. “Always.” His voice turned tender, almost a whisper.

  “Marry me.” Her throat tightened. “You love me. I love you.” It was hard to stay coherent with him so near. Really, the only thing she wanted to do was kiss him senseless until he relented. At that moment, she pushed her pride away and used an argument that made no sense, but one she prayed he’d appreciate. “Because I’ve completely ruined you for any other.”

  “You think you coming here is a way to save me?” His whisky-dark voice caressed her.

  She wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but she’d not allow him to retreat again. “Yes. You’re a dissolute rake whom I’ve come to rescue.”

  “A rogue rescued by an innocent. Is that it?” he soothed. “Is that one of your fantasies we acted out in your bed? I didn’t see it in the journal.”

  She boldly met his gaze. “You obviously weren’t looking hard enough. It’s there.” She reached into her reticle and pulled out the heart-shaped rock he’d given her years ago. “You’ve already given me your heart, and for all these years, I’ve tenderly cared for it. See?”

  She held it in her extended palm.

  His eyes widened in astonishment. “I can’t believe you still have it in your possession.” Carefully, he examined the treasure without picking it up. He shook his head slowly. “I told you to use it as a reminder to harden your heart.”

  “I won’t.” She pressed it into his hand. “I safeguarded it for you and will continue to do so along with your love for all of my days.”

  His hand tightened over hers, then pulled her close. Their lips met. Before she could deepen the kiss, he pulled away.

  “You’re the most persistent woman I’ve ever met,” he whispered. His blue eyes resembled the warm Mediterranean, and she wanted to swim from one end to the other. “You win. I can’t fight it anymore. Without a doubt, I’ve changed because of you. You’re in me.”

  She snuggled close. “We both win.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” He leaned in and this time gave her a real kiss. Passion seemed to ignite the air around them, but once again he pulled away. “You’ve made me want to become a better man, one better than my father and even Robbie wanted me to be.”

  He slipped his hands into her hair and tipped her face to his. Breathless, she waited for his next words.

  “I’m not much of a duke, but perhaps with you as my duchess, I’ll accomplish some great things. At least I’ll be the duke I want to be.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, then drew back. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I love you.”

  His promise to her melded into a kiss that she’d remember always. One filled with passion, yearning, friendship, and love.

  A perfect kiss.

  A perfect kiss that would be repeated throughout a lifetime.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  There was only one word to describe Lady Daphne Hallworth’s beauty this evening.

  “Enchanting.”

  All evening, Paul had tamped down the urge to go to her. Every time he tried to see her, one of his guests had demanded his attention, which was fine, as the contributions to help fund the hospital were mounting into an amount that, frankly, was unbelievable. But that didn’t keep him from stealing glances toward the mezzanine where Daphne held her own court. Her natural radiance seemed to shimmer around her, and she called to him like some whimsical sprite ready to lead him on some merry, magical adventure.

  Paul stopped at the bottom of the steps that led to the mezzanine and planted his feet wide.

  It was a bloody feat to keep his emotions in check this evening. All night, he could hardly string two words together to any of his guests. All he wanted was to bask in her warmth and steal kisses in hidden corners and secret passageways.

  He breathed deeply, and the gentle wafting of her sweet scent caused his nostrils to flare. Would her effect on him ever cease?

  God, he hoped not. The entire evening had been his crowning achievement, all because of his darling Moonbeam. Immediately after arriving, the Duchess of Langham and Claire had shown great interest in his plans for Robbie’s hospital. Their perceptive inquiries and support for the cause shouldn’t have surprised him, yet it did. Claire, an heiress in her own right, had promised a generous contribution, one that the duchess had matched. Emma had also pledged support.

  Pembrooke and Somerton had milled around the group, not taking part in any of the conversation. Both feigned boredom, but it became obvious to everyone they were keenly listening to the discussion. Paul had done his best to acknowledge both men with a simple nod. As Devan had alluded to earlier, it said a great deal that both men had bothered to appear.

  Before he reached the top stair, a thought stole his breath and stopped his ascent. He’d be married to this marvelous woman in the morning.

  As he closed the distance between them, her smile grew to a brightness that made a thousand lit candles pale in comparison. He answered her smile with one of his own. With every ounce of self-discipline he possessed, he fought the urge to race to her side and fall on his knees like a fool before her.

  But why fight it? He was a fool for her. Lucky him.

  He shook his head in a desperate attempt to quell his confusion. This had to be some type of moonbeam magic, one that he never could resist.

  When he reached her side, she dipped into a deep curtsy, the movement elegant and seductive. “Your Grace, I’m delighted to see you.” Her honeyed voice was the sweetest sound he’d heard all evening.

  “Lady Moonbeam, look at what you’ve accomplished this evening.” He pointed at the floor below, where his guests mingled. “With the funds pledged tonight, Robbie’s hospital will be built in half the time. It can be operational in a year. Your brother and Somerton promised to match their wives’ contributions.”

  “You did this, Paul.” The love in her eyes stole his breath.

  “Let’s say we did this together.” He raised her gloved hands to his lips and pr
essed his mouth against her knuckles. “Let’s kidnap Devan and find a room. We’ll have him marry us immediately, then I don’t have to spend another lonely night without you in my bed.”

  She squeezed his hand with hers. “I can’t wait until tomorrow either. I’ll not sleep a wink tonight.”

  “I always regretted that I never sought you out at these affairs in the past. I’d just gaze upon you from afar.” He continued to hold her hand close to his lips, knowing the crowd slowly started gawking at them. “Truthfully, I was a smidge hesitant to talk to you. I don’t think I could’ve withstood your rebuff.”

  “That was a mistake. I’d have talked to you.” The huskiness in her voice made his heart beat faster.

  “Why did you always find refuge in those perches of yours?” He turned her hand and pressed a kiss against her wrist.

  “Are you calling me a bird?” she teased.

  “A bird of paradise,” he answered.

  “Need I remind you that is a flower.” A deep blush colored her cheeks.

  “Your beauty causes me to say the most absurd things, love. Now tell me, why did you stay away from the crowds?”

  She bit her lip, and the sight caused him to groan. How horrible would it be to sweep her away right this instant and kiss her until the morning when they married?

  “I was looking for someone.” Her gaze never faltered as she answered.

  He couldn’t keep from touching her. If she was a flower, then he was a bee starving for her sweet nectar. “Who?”

  “You. It was always you.” Her whispered words held the strength to level him.

  He found himself lost in her shimmering silver eyes. For now and always he’d think fondly of the Reynolds Gambling Establishment where he’d found his glorious Moonbeam who led him out of the darkness and into the light. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  She lowered her lashes and smiled. “As much as I love you.”

  He drew her near. “I’m going to give you your wedding present now.”