Dare to Love a Duke

by Eva Leigh

  He thought suddenly of Brookhurst, and his insistence that he and Tom and other men of authority ensure that nothing changed or altered the systems that gave them power. To them, people like the scullery maid were not fully human, only means to achieve a goal—such as clean glasses. But how could Tom pretend that the staff of the Orchid Club were merely living cogs in a machine, and nothing more? How could he plow onward, convinced of the supremacy of his opinion, discounting the experiences and lives of everyone around him?

  He couldn’t.

  Seeing the disparity in power wasn’t new to him, but never before had he been given the means to make profound change in that disparity. Once he left the Orchid Club, he could enact real transformation.

  But the price . . . Maeve . . .

  Goddamn it, he wasn’t certain what his next step would be. And if once he thrived on living life in the margins, now he needed more certainty—especially with Maeve, his mother, and Lucia’s safety at stake.

  With a nod, he left the girl to her mountain of glasses.

  He returned to the ballroom, where Lucia observed the guests as they danced and caroused. The movements of the guests were growing wilder, their touches more bold. Instead of the usual couples or trios, groups of four, five, and more were forming, as though the need for more and more sensation built. It took him a moment to understand why this might be, until he noticed that the largest groups were forming around the stage in anticipation of the forthcoming performances—like pagan worshippers around an altar.

  “Your ploy of hiring someone to be the Lady of Dubious Quality is working,” he murmured to her. “The guests can barely contain themselves.”

  “I didn’t hire anyone,” she said.

  They exchanged baffled looks.

  Seconds later, a woman in a golden mask and matching cloak drifted through the room, a secretive smile playing about her lips. A lanky blond man in black trailed behind her, and his gaze was full of warning for anyone who so much as glanced in her direction. She seemed strangely familiar.

  Lucia gripped Tom’s hand. “My God . . .”

  “She’s here to be anonymous,” he said lowly, “but I want to thank her for many a night’s pleasurable reading.”

  When the woman in gold stationed herself close to the wall, her male companion keeping close, Lucia checked her timepiece. “Her appearance is opportune. Excuse me.”

  She walked to the stage and climbed the small steps. Positioning herself in the middle of the dais, she raised her hands. The musicians lowered their instruments and Lucia said in a clear, projecting voice, “Friends, if I may beg for your attention.”

  Guests streamed into the ballroom, many of them wearing only their masks. The groups that had formed around the stage broke apart. Everyone turned expectant faces to Lucia.

  “On behalf of the Orchid Club,” she said, “I thank you for honoring us with your presence on this most exciting night. I shall not make myself tedious. You all came to watch enactments of the Lady of Dubious Quality’s work, and it is my great privilege to yield the stage to our performers. The first scene is from The Highwayman’s Seduction.”

  A man dressed in a greatcoat and mask climbed onto the stage, two pantomime pistols in his hands, followed by a pretty woman wearing a low-necked gown. Dazzling gems that had to be paste adorned her neck and dangled from her ears. The performers bowed at the audience, who applauded.

  Lucia descended from the stage and went to join Tom.

  “My thanks in your choice of material,” he said appreciatively.

  “It was happenstance that we’d arranged to perform this piece before I knew of your preference for it, but I’m glad now that we selected this one.”

  They beamed at each other, and something radiant poured through him. Something free and light that buoyed him upward.

  He nearly staggered under the realization—this was happiness. He hadn’t realized it had been missing from his life until it returned, created and given to him by her.

  It was a hell of a gift. He’d never felt bigger, more expansive, and he’d never felt more reverential.

  “Much as I would enjoy watching the performance,” she whispered, “we’re here to ensure the establishment functions properly. To that end, let us move on.”

  The rest of the night passed with unusual rapidity. Lucia directed Tom in certain tasks, but once he knew his responsibility, he did not need to be told again. He was in constant motion, little time to think or reflect—which suited him fine. A small break from too much contemplation was welcome.

  Now and again, he’d pass through the ballroom and catch a glimpse of the performances. Many of the guests watched with rapt attention, and others found so much inspiration, they fucked within twenty feet of the stage. The lady in the golden cloak and her black-clad companion took their leave of the club midway through the third act—with guests whispering excitedly in her wake.

  “I find myself almost superfluous,” Lucia wryly said to him as they passed each other. “I’ve only to think about righting a piece of overturned furniture before it’s restored to its original position. The flow of food and drink is moving effortlessly, and hardly any guests need to make use of the room set aside for unruly revelers.”

  “Perhaps you ought to delegate more.”

  “Perhaps I should.”

  They broke apart as duties required attending. He brought up wine, set furniture to rights, and took a turn watching the door. As the hours wore on, the novelty of physical labor turned to deep weariness, though it wasn’t unwelcome. When he’d find his bed later, he knew he would sleep more profoundly than he had in a long time.

  He seized a moment to lean against a wall in the dark corridor, tipping his head back. Sensed a nearing presence, he didn’t have to open his eyes to know that it was Lucia. The tiredness pulling at him lessened until he nearly forgot how his body ached.

  “How do you fare?” she asked gently as she laid a hand on his chest.

  His heart thudded beneath her touch. “Splendidly well,” he said, though he continued to prop himself up against the wall. “Admittedly, the day has been a long one. I awoke at six which was . . .” He consulted his watch tucked into the pocket of his waistcoat. “Twenty-two hours ago.”

  “Did you not nap when I suggested it?”

  “Too excited to sleep,” he confessed with a self-effacing smile.

  “Go upstairs,” she said in a soft voice, pressing her hand more firmly to his chest, “and get you some rest.”

  He straightened, but she did not remove her hand. “When business is done for the night,” he said firmly. “That’s when I will go to bed. I gave you my word that I was here to help, and like hell will I go back on my promise.”

  Her exhalation was warm against his face. “I wish I knew what to do with you.”

  “Trouble is,” he said with grim humor, “I know exactly what to do with you, but I’m a goddamned gentleman, and so I won’t do any of it.” He pushed back from the wall, and, thankfully, she dropped her hand and stepped away. “Fortunately, I’m going to be so exhausted when I finally get to bed, I won’t be able to torment myself with thoughts of you mere steps away.”

  Even in the darkness of the corridor, he sensed the heat in her gaze.

  “Now, excuse me,” he said, “but I’ve a job to do.”

  With that, he left her.

  Chapter 14

  Sleeping after a night’s work always came easily to Lucia. All she had to do was strip, fall into bed, and within moments, she was in blissful unconsciousness.

  Not last night. After shutting down the establishment and finishing the accounting, she’d lain beneath the covers, wide awake and intensely aware that she had only to climb a few steps before she could slide into Tom’s bed. She’d feel the long length of his body against hers, be enveloped in his heat and scent. They could fall asleep together—or not.

  She must have dozed because when she woke, late-afternoon sunlight filtered into her room. After taking c
are of her needs and quickly washing, she threw on a simple day dress and apron before heading downstairs.

  As she walked down the belowstairs corridor, the sound of laughter in the kitchen drew her close. She heard Kitty’s high, bell-like giggle, and Elspeth’s throatier chuckle, and beneath all that, a man’s deep laugh. Tom. Her pulse quickened, and she hurried forward.

  She poked her head into the kitchen, eager to observe without being seen.

  Effie, one of their girls-of-all-work, stood at the hob as she tended a panful of sausages, and even she threw a cheerful smile over her shoulder. Kitty sat at the small table where they took their meals, Liam in her lap and Elspeth hovering close.

  Tom stood nearby, and though he was dressed, something was missing. His neckcloth was currently in Liam’s grip as the baby gnawed on the length of fabric. As adorable as that sight was, Lucia was more transfixed by the fact that the neckcloth’s absence revealed the column of Tom’s neck and the hollow of his throat.

  “I hope you don’t mind drool in place of starch,” Lucia said, coming into the kitchen. Bene. Her voice was level and didn’t betray any of her arousal.

  Smiling, Tom turned toward her. It was a brilliant smile, full of humor and energy, and it was more potent than any whispered words of seduction.

  “I’ll set the newest fashion,” he said cheerfully. “We’ve been rudderless since Brummell fled to the Continent. Now I can seize my chance.” He held a mug out to her. “I’d a feeling you’d prefer coffee over tea.”

  The simple domesticity of the gesture warmed her. She’d only shared such homey moments with Kitty and Elspeth, but never before with a man. Yet it didn’t seem strange or unwelcome. It felt, in fact, as though she’d created a small fortress for herself out of pillows and blankets—cozy, snug, and comforting.

  “Mille grazie.” She took the mug and inhaled the roasted scent of coffee before taking a sip. “Perfetto.”

  “Before young master Liam decided he wanted my neckcloth for his tea, Elspeth and Kitty regaled me with stories of your early time here at the Orchid Club.” He leaned down to prop his elbow on the table, putting his chin on his fist. “Did you really punch a guest in the nose and then threaten to cut off his cock?”

  “This was before Will and Arthur had come on board,” Elspeth added. “So we weren’t prepared for rowdy guests.”

  “To be fair,” Lucia said, her blood rising to think of that moment again, “that cretino insisted that one of our servers was on the bill of fare. When he became unruly, I had to educate him. Told him if he wasn’t careful, his cazzo would be thrown onto the sidewalk beside his unconscious body.”

  She smiled blandly.

  Tom shuddered. “Remind me never to cross you.”

  “Do you need reminding?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “If I did before, I certainly don’t now.”

  “Hot food. Watch your backs.” Effie came forward, carrying the pan of sausages. “Take a seat or you won’t get your supper—or breakfast, or whatever you odd folk want to call this meal.”

  Everyone gathered around the table, and within moments they were absorbed in their food. Lucia had watched Tom at the staff meal the day before, but she still found the sight of him eating to be fascinating. His table manners were exquisite, elegant and fluid, yet she was drawn by the sight of the tendons in his wrists as he used his knife. He had rather large hands, yet they were still beautiful.

  I’m sighing over a man’s hands. What has become of me?

  “Me, Elspeth, and the baby are off to the shops after this, then a trip to Catton’s,” Kitty said between bites. “Join us?” She angled a look at both Lucia and Tom.

  Regret in his eyes, he shook his head. “Can’t risk the possibility that someone I know might see me. I’m supposed to be rusticating, and being one with my thoughts. Unless someone is willing to fall on their bayonet and keep me company . . .” He cast a comically hopeful gaze at Lucia.

  Normally, she adored visiting the shops. She’d spent so many years in Napoli with her face pressed against the windows of pasticcerie selling delicious sweets. She recalled well the feel of the pavement beneath her feet as she was chased away from the bancarelle, “stalls,” and their abundant goods—pots and pans, toys, soap, and all the things she could never afford.

  Now, whatever she didn’t set aside for the girls’ home, she loved to spend on pretty ribbons and presents for her friends. A weekly trip to the shops always held some wonderful surprise.

  But . . . Tom would be alone, like a panther in a cage.

  “If it’s company you’re after,” she said in an offhand tone, “I’m happy to oblige. Mind,” she added, raising a finger, “it won’t be a day of idleness. There’s always a dozen tasks that need tending to. You might be rusticating, and a nobleman, but I intend to put you to work. Such is your fate after showing me how well you took to it last night.”

  “Alas,” he said without any hint of sorrow.

  Chatting about the day’s tasks, they finished their meal quickly, and brought their empty plates and cups to Effie.

  “And Cook set this aside for you.” The girl handed Tom a slim paper-wrapped bundle.

  He eagerly opened it. His face brightened in a way that was both adorable and delicious. “Ah, but she’s a goddess!”

  Lucia peered at the parcel and, smiling, shook her head. It was a slice of lemon cake. “Aren’t you going to eat it?” she asked when he tucked it atop a high shelf.

  “There are times for devouring, and times for savoring. I prefer to savor my pleasures.” His gaze held hers, and with a hot rush, she recalled vividly their night together and her shameless plea. Savor later. Fuck me now. “Anon, I’ll take my time with it, and lick up. Every. Crumb.”

  Santo cielo, but she should have reconsidered spending a whole day locked up with him in the house.

  “We’re off,” Elspeth announced, tucking a scarf around Kitty’s neck, who kissed her for the service.

  Lucia snapped out of her haze. “Do you need money? I can fetch some from my room.”

  Kitty rolled her eyes. “No, Mama, we have more than enough of our own blunt.” Yet she smiled as she said this.

  When Elspeth pushed a pram into the kitchen, Kitty bundled Liam into it. Soon the trio had gone, promising a treat for Lucia and Tom—if they were good.

  “Effie,” Lucia said to the girl, “I’ll need water boiled for laundry.”

  “Yes, madam.” Effie quickly walked out back to where the pump was, leaving Lucia alone with Tom.

  “If you have no objections,” he said lightly as he leaned against the large table, “I might henceforth take all my meals here.”

  She felt her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Surely they feed you properly in Mayfair.”

  “But the company here is excellent,” he countered evenly. “No ceremony, no dull tedium.”

  She hadn’t considered that anyone of rank and privilege might find any part of their lives dull or tedious. But it made sense that, if habituated to all privilege, things like never-ending beefsteak on expensive china became dreary.

  Ah, to have such problems . . .

  “And what of your mother, your sister?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips.

  “I’ll bring them, too,” he said magnanimously. “They’ll enjoy themselves. Mam never could resist a bit of craic, and Maeve would find life belowstairs fascinating. And, I do own this house.”

  The irony struck Lucia, and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out one caustic laugh. “Yes, I can hear it now, ‘Mama, dearest sister, please dine with me with the staff of the Orchid Club. What’s the Orchid Club? Merely a jolly place where the people of London wear masks and fuck. Won’t that be a fun family outing?’”

  There was such disparity between her and the duke’s family, a gulf that could never be bridged. A shard of resentment buried itself in her heart.

  “Perhaps inviting my mother and sister might be a trifle ill-advised,” he said, his expression grim
. He looked, at that moment, very alone.

  She exhaled, releasing her grip on her bitterness. Neither of them could help being born into their lives.

  “They still don’t know about this place?” she asked gently.

  “No, and I’ll go to my grave with the secret. At all costs, they must be protected.” His expression turned even more somber.

  “Your father kept this place hidden from them for years,” she said quietly. “You’ll keep the confidence for decades to come.”

  Hopefully, he drew strength from her assurances.

  He lifted his brows. “You truly see this place in business for decades?”

  “In truth? I can’t say.” She rubbed at her forehead as she thought of the years to come. “When I worked at Mrs. Chalke’s in Covent Garden, I knew all girls of our profession had a short time before we aged out—and it wasn’t work I planned on pursuing forever. Even mistresses lose their bloom after a while.”

  His expression turned contemplative. “Never gave much thought to the business of sex.”

  “It is a business. Becoming part of the Orchid Club held much better prospects for me. Someday,” she said, hearing wistfulness in her voice, “I would love to leave it behind, too. Just run the home for girls . . . but we’ll need steady income, and in London it’s easier to get a lungful of coal smoke than an extra tuppence.”

  She let out a long breath. “That’s a discussion for another day. For now, you and I have an appointment with a closet.”

  “We keep lost and forgotten garments here,” Lucia said, pulling open the door to a narrow closet. Piled high were shirts, chemises, shoes, and dozens more pieces of clothing.

  “Anyone ever claim these?” Tom asked.

  “Never. But I hold on to them for a few months. Today, I’ll sort through them, wash the ones that are in good condition, and donate the lot to a few charitable organizations in Whitechapel and Bethnal Green.”

  He held up a waistcoat to his torso, but the garment was much shorter and wider than his body.