A Duke Changes Everything (The Duke's Den #1)

by Christy Carlyle

There was a buzzing energy about him. Nervousness that heightened her own anxiousness. She didn’t know why she was in such a rush to return to the countryside. There’d be no private moments with him once they were back. At Enderley, their roles were defined. But she wasn’t quite sure where she belonged anymore.

  Going back to just being his steward was unthinkable. Becoming his wife was more than she dared consider.

  He’d slipped on gloves and extended a hand encased in black leather. “Ready?”

  Mina took his hand as she got to her feet. “My ankle doesn’t trouble me anymore.”

  “I’m glad.” The merest of smiles flickered across his lips. “We’ll depart through the side door,” he told her as they made their way down the sconce-lit hall. “Just this way.”

  “You won’t show me the club before we depart?”

  She’d been so eager to leave, and now a part of her dreaded going back. What they’d shared here was theirs alone, untouched by any of the memories he had of the estate, or any of the responsibilities she’d long felt to it and its people.

  “Just a quick peek around the club?” That single glimpse the night before hadn’t been enough. He cared about Lyon’s. She wanted to see what he’d built, the enterprise he was so proud of.

  “I’ll give you more than a peek.” Crooking an elbow, he offered his arm as if they were going on a morning promenade. After climbing the stairs they’d descended the night before, he led her toward the velvet draperies, but this time he didn’t stop.

  “Where are we going?” Mina tightened her grip on his arm. Chatter ebbed, necks craned, dozens of men’s faces turned their way.

  Mina heard hisses and whispers.

  “Has he brought his whore to play?”

  Nick made a guttural noise and lunged toward the man who’d made the comment. Mina wrapped both hands around his forearm to pull him closer.

  He wielded his gaze like a weapon, freezing men mid-gape. Something in his eyes cut off men as they opened their mouths to comment.

  After escorting her into the thick of the gamut, Nick stopped in the center of a dozen green felt-covered gaming tables. He directed her gaze up, pointing to the ceiling. “That may be my favorite part of the club.”

  A stained-glass dome had been constructed atop the room, its panes constructed in bold, dramatic colors, like the rose window of a cathedral.

  “In a few hours, when the club has emptied but for the staff, the sun reflects those colors onto the walls and floor.”

  Mina realized he was no longer looking up and that his gaze was fixed on her face.

  “There are no gray walls at Lyon’s.”

  A month ago she would have defended Enderley from the veiled slight. Now she understood why a boy from a castle that offered him nothing but nightmares would build himself a colorful world far away from Sussex.

  “It’s beautiful.” Some might call the excess of it garish, but Mina could see that every aspect of the club had been designed with care. Not that the gamblers around her seemed to notice. Those who weren’t still gawking at the two of them were staring intently as dice rolled or cards were shuffled in front of them. Their desperation was palpable, a wave of tension that seemed to touch every man in the room. Even those laughing or chatting did so at a higher, almost frantic pitch.

  Only Nick oozed confidence. Until he looked her way. Then a flash of uncertainty came into his gaze.

  “Would you like to quick tour of the upstairs?”

  Mina looked up to the balustrade and receded walkway running around the perimeter of Lyon’s. “Your private balcony? Yes, please.” She understood that he wanted to show her the best aspects of the club, just as she’d hoped to highlight Enderley’s assets.

  He led her to the stairwell tucked away at the edge of the club and lent her his arm as they made their way up. Once she stepped onto the plush carpet of the concealed balcony, she understood why it was a haven. It wasn’t quiet, the noises rose and echoed off the building’s glass dome, but the furnishings were comfortable, the chairs plusher, the settee deeper.

  And when she stood at the balustrade’s edge, staring down at the desperate men below, she understood Nick a bit better. “You have enormous power over them.”

  “For many years, I had none.” He came to stand next to her, so close that his arm and thigh brushed against hers.

  “When you returned to London on your own?”

  “Yes,” he said tightly.

  He seemed to sense she wanted more and after a while he swallowed hard and began. “I had nothing. The clothes on my back, a few coins in my pocket.” He tugged at his ear and sighed. “I took food off vendor’s carts. I fought others for money. I did what I had to in order to survive.”

  “And how did you get all this?” She stared down at the gilded columns and green baize-covered tables.

  He tipped a grin her way. “Gambling. I’d never had any luck as a child, but I made up for it as a young man.”

  “Do you still gamble?” Mina held her breath. She had meant gaming, but she sensed the depth of her question too. From the moment he’d arrived at Enderley, she’d hoped he would bet on the estate. Invest and refurbish. Now she wanted him to take another risk. With her.

  “Never,” he said firmly, his gaze steady and determined as he watched the men below. “Gambling gives too much of a man’s power to fate. Waiting on the luck of the draw or the fall of the dice.” He glanced over at her and said in a low, husky voice, “I’ll never be powerless again.”

  Mina said nothing more as he led her back down and they made their way

  Mr. Spencer beckoned them toward a set of polished bronze doors. “Your carriage is ready, sir.”

  Nick’s hand at the small of her back soothed Mina’s nerves as she headed toward the club’s entrance. London’s fog had cleared and the morning was so bright, she lifted a hand to shade her eyes.

  “Tremayne,” a man shouted, not the same from the club. A young man, well into his cups, and tipping precariously toward them. “I have part of what I owe you.”

  Nick urged Mina forward until they’d reached the carriage, then wrapped his hands around her waist to help her inside.

  “Not now.”

  “You’re returning to Sussex? To play duke? I wish to settle my debts, Lyon.” The man scuttled forward, tapping on the side of the carriage. “Call on me when you return to London.”

  Nick positioned himself near the window and leaned out. “Let go of the door or the coachman will pull you under when we depart. Speak to my solicitor about settling your debt.”

  With that, Nick knocked on the carriage wall and the driver set the horses into motion. The young man stumbled back, and Mina lost sight of him as they pulled into a line of carriages departing various enterprises on St. James Street.

  “He gambles at your club?”

  “Not anymore.” He straightened his perfectly straight necktie, rather than look at her.

  “The gentleman seemed quite desperate.”

  “He’s an awful gambler.” There was no menace in his tone, nor did he seem to take much pleasure in the fact. Which seemed odd for a gambling club owner who kept the money others lost.

  “He behaved as if you hold his fate in your hands?”

  “I hold his vowels. Dozens of them.” He wrenched his gloves off with a few swift tugs.

  “Do you never forgive debts?”

  “Why would I?” His gaze was sharp, defensive, then softened the longer he looked at her.

  “Why not invest more of your money, as Mr. Iverson does?” Mina could appreciate the idea of a profitable business, but to watch men lose their wealth, their self-respect, their livelihoods. She couldn’t see the appeal.

  “I do invest. Thanks to Iverson’s counsel, I usually do so wisely.” He drew in a long breath and let it out. “But I also earn money by lending to gamblers who’ve lost their funds and want to play on.”

  “And they continue to lose?”

  “Usually.”

/>   “And then what?” Mina leaned forward, intrigued by how the process worked.

  “Either they quit, which is rare, or they come downstairs and petition for a loan.” Nick’s jaw tightened and furrowed grooves appeared between his brows. “I require collateral, and often they lose what they promised. Noblemen become desperate when they lose.”

  Mina sensed his unease. “It sounds miserable for everyone involved.”

  “I used to enjoy it.” He quieted a moment.

  “And now?”

  “Something in me has altered.”

  “For the better?” Mina’s throat tightened as she waited for his answer. She’d changed too. For the first time, she could imagine a life that had nothing to do with Enderley and duty. But now she also knew she couldn’t bear a future without love.

  “For the better,” he repeated.

  Mina smiled and settled back against the squabs as he watched her. An idea came, a wild, half-formed notion, that she couldn’t keep inside. “What if no one had to lose?”

  In the soft glow of the carriage lamp, Mina saw the flash of his grin.

  “A happy ending for all? Like in a fairy tale?”

  “A much more practical ending.” Mina thought of Colin and the collection of guests at Mr. Iverson’s party. “What if the men, or women, for that matter, who came to petition you for funds had something to offer in return? An invention. An idea that could turn a profit?”

  “My God, Iverson’s gotten to you, hasn’t he?” Nick leaned forward, a frown hardening the edge of his jaw. “Exactly how much time did you two spend together?”

  “Not much.” Mina laughed. “But you’ve seen fit to assist the tenants in Barrowmere village. Why not the entrepreneurs of London?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll consider it.”

  Mina could sense his eagerness to be done with the topic. He turned toward the carriage window and watched intently, but there was little to see beyond an endless line of whitewashed townhouses.

  The one topic that weighed on her mind was the one she didn’t know how to broach with him. They fell silent, so quiet she could hear his breath coming ragged and uneven. She counted the beats of her own heart, slamming heavily in her chest.

  His profile was familiar now, but no less breathtaking. She had the urge to run a line with her fingertip from his brow to the tip of his nose to those delicious lips.

  He seemed to sense her watching him and shifted on his bench. Turning away from the window, he subjected her to a slow perusal, from her boots to her waist, breasts, lips—all the places he’d kissed so attentively—and then back down her legs again.

  “You’re sure your ankle is better?”

  Mina nodded and bit her lip. She couldn’t bear two hours of being cool and polite to each other. “Nick—”

  “This isn’t right, you know?”

  “Tell me why you think so.” He felt it too. She didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

  “You’re too far away.” He reached out a bare hand. “Last time we were in a carriage together, you were closer.”

  Her body responded as if she was already there, in his lap.

  Mina took his hand, and he pulled her up and across the space between them. Rather than sit across his lap, Mina ruched up her skirt and positioned her knees on either side of his thighs, so that they were face-to-face, chest to chest.

  Sentiments bubbled up. Words she wanted to say, but she had no notion where to start. So she held him instead. Resting her head against his chest, she curled her fingers around his the edge of his waistcoat and listened to the strong, insistent beat of his heart.

  This felt right. This she knew for certain. When he was in her arms, she had no more doubts. Fears faded. Some part of her knew.

  This was where she was meant to be.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  He was a coward. A spineless fool of a man with more carnal frustration pent up than he’d ever felt in his life.

  They’d been back at Enderley for two days, and Nick had tried his best to give Mina time to consider his offer. He’d kept himself busy with village matters and visits from the vicar and magistrate and every other resident of Barrowmere who wished to grouse about his father and brother.

  He agreed with every complaint, but none of it improved his mood.

  He survived on glimpses of Mina, who was matching him in the pursuit of mindless tasks and busy making. She’d met with masons, painters, men who would remove more of the furniture and antiquities in the coming weeks. Now he wasn’t even certain he wished to gut the estate and rent it. He couldn’t ask Mina to live in an empty castle.

  All he truly wanted was her answer.

  Every hour that passed, the terror grew. Was she biding her time before refusing him? The more he asked himself the question, the greater an answering compulsion grew to keep her, win her, convince her. But he still couldn’t bring himself to expose the inner workings of his rusty heart as she wished. He couldn’t promise to be what he wasn’t. Worse, he didn’t know if he had the wherewithal to be the sort of man she would find an ounce of happiness with.

  He wasn’t Huntley, with natural charm and a face like Adonis. He wasn’t Iverson, whose instinct unerringly led him to do what was right and good.

  He could offer Mina a title, wealth, his devotion. He didn’t have more to give.

  Each night since they’d returned, he’d started toward her room in the dead of night. Body aching, heart thudding, he’d make it as far as her door, determined to kiss her until she forgot her name and love her so well that she screamed yes again and again.

  But each night he’d stopped himself on the verge of knocking. As much as he wanted her, he needed this choice to be hers. He couldn’t bear a lifetime of doubt. Of thinking he’d seduced her into an answer or pressed for one too soon.

  One result of his visits to the village had been a barrage of haranguing to attend Lady Claxton’s ball. He’d only agreed when Wilder informed him that half of Enderley’s servants would be in service at the event, and that Mina had agreed to help manage them.

  He would have far preferred that she was attending as his soon-to-be bride.

  But he’d dressed and shaved, and when he descended the stairs to make his way to the ball, he discovered most of the staff had already gone to the Claxtons’.

  Except for Mina.

  The light in her office was on, and he heard a crash and curse before he reached the doorway.

  She was bent over, her back to him, retrieving a pile of account ledger books from the floor. Nick approached to help her, and she skidded back as if she’d been scalded.

  “I thought you would have been on your way to Lady Claxton’s,” she said, taking in his evening clothes.

  “Aren’t you attending?” Nick noted that she’d dressed in a prettier gown than her usual dresses. This one had a far more revealing cut that showed off her neck and shoulders.

  “I agreed to help Wilder manage the other servants who were sent to assist the Claxton staff.”

  “But you’re still here.”

  “Mrs. Scribb decided to go, so I won’t be needed.”

  “I need you.” The words came out before he could stop them. They were as raw as any truth he’d ever spoken.

  He didn’t truly want to attend a ball. But he very much wanted an excuse to have Mina in his arms again.

  She swallowed hard, but her eyes softened. He liked discovering that whatever she felt for him, masking it was impossible. “I’ll be in the kitchen or directing footmen in the refreshment room. It’s not as if we’ll be together.”

  “I can manage to find the kitchen.”

  “You can’t go belowstairs at Lord and Lady Claxtons’ home. You’re the Duke of Tremayne.”

  “We’ll see.” Nick offered her his arm. Whatever it took, he was damn well going to dance with her tonight.

  He knew the moment she decided to accompany him. Not because she took his arm, but because her shoulders lifted an inch and h
er back went doorjamb-straight.

  “Fine,” she said curtly. “If we’re to go, we should depart now or we’ll be late.”

  Nick nodded and let her stride past him. He was proud of his self-control when everything in him told him to reach for her.

  But as she stomped toward the front door, he couldn’t hold back a grin of triumph.

  Now the evening had a hope of being bearable.

  This was a mistake.

  The minute they’d settled onto opposite benches in the Tremayne carriage, Mina regretted agreeing to accompany Nick to the Claxton ball.

  Not that she was truly accompanying him. They weren’t attending together. They were simply headed to the same event, at the same time, in the same carriage. Once there, their roles would be entirely different.

  He’d be expected to mingle and dance with Lady Lillian and every other young unmarried woman pushed his way. Her job would be to make sure the staff from the two estates didn’t step on each other’s toes or come to fisticuffs.

  But now, in the dark confines of the brougham, all she could smell was his woodsy scent. Every time she glanced his way, she found his gaze was already focused on her. Intently. In the dim carriage lantern, his eyes glowed as they traced the shape of her mouth.

  Every nerve in her vibrated when they were this close to each other. She could never be in a carriage with him again and not think of being in his arms or in his lap.

  Thankfully the trip to the Claxtons’ was short. She willed her nerves to steady and her mind to stop thinking of the scandalous things he could do with his hands as he helped her down from the carriage.

  The Claxton footman looked supremely confused as they approached the front door. Especially when Nick moved closer every time she tried to sidestep away. She lengthened her stride to reach the footman first.

  “I’m here to assist Mr. Wilder and the other staff from Enderley Castle.”

  “They are below stairs, miss.” The Claxton servant arched one thin eyebrow. “Down the hall, first door on your left.”

  When he glanced past her and got a good view of Nick, both brows shot up. It was a reaction others often had at the first sight of him. Mina still wasn’t sure if it was his scar, his unusual eyes, his enormous bulk, or a combination of all his unique physical qualities combined in one singular man.