A Heart of a Duke Collection: Volume 1-A Regency Bundle

by Christi Caldwell

  He wisely snapped his mouth closed.

  “I may love you, but you still infuriate the blazes out of me with your high-handedness.” Jane took a deep breath and closed the distance between them. If he’d not already been prevented backward movement by the upholstered sofa, she’d wager all of her three thousand pounds he’d have retreated faster than Boney on his march through Russia. She placed her palms on his jacket and smoothed the lapels. His body went taut under her touch. “I know you do not love me.” She paused for a fraction of a moment, hoping with a small tiny part of her soul she’d only just discovered existed that he’d issue a protestation. But it did not come. The muscles of her stomach tightened painfully. Oh, God. In this loving a man who’d never return those sentiments, she’d become her mother. “I do not expect anything more from you than the security you provide.” And with those words, she became more her mother than she’d ever dreamed herself to be.

  Gabriel closed his eyes a moment. With Jane’s nearness, the scent of lavender and honey that clung to her skin wafted about him until he was drunk on the fragrance of summer. Her hands upon his person coupled with her admission, sucked at his. She loved him. He pressed his palms over his face and drew in a slow breath.

  What she asked, what she would inevitably expect would require a piece of him that he could not give. He wanted no part of caring for anyone else. Except, now she is yours to care for, forever. Finishing school or no finishing school. Until death do us part… “This is not what we had agreed to,” he repeated those desperate words, ripped from deep within his chest. For with their vows sealed, the permanency of their decision registered.

  And now there was love. Her love. With anything more of their marriage would come children and just more people to care for and more people to fail—“I cannot give you what you,” deserve. “Hope for,” he said. His thick tongue made words difficult.

  Her hands fluttered back to her side. “I’m not asking you for anything.”

  In telling him, however, she did ask more of him. Expected more. Gabriel sidled away from her. His feet twitched with an involuntary urge to flee. “Jane, I will care for you, but I cannot,” his mind balked at finishing those words.

  “Love me,” she said softly. A sad, little smile played about her bow-shaped lips. “Care for me?” she repeated those words back to herself. “Funny how one can care for a person while not caring about them.”

  Her words wrenched at his heart and ripped the blasted organ that had ceased to beat for over thirty years. She cleared her throat and took several steps away from him. He mourned the loss of her nearness. “We should join your family.” Jane turned on her heel and started for the door.

  Gabriel drew in a slow breath and then followed after her. How many other women would have spun on their heels and stormed off, indignant and making demands? Jane moved at a sedate pace and allowed him to reach her side. The synchronized footfall of his boots and her slippers echoed in the corridor, and as they drew nearer to the breakfast room, the cheerful peal of laughter and giggles punctuated the quiet.

  They entered the room together and the small collection of his family and Waterson looked up in unison. Their laughter and discourse came to a screeching halt.

  In apparent unease, Jane shifted on her feet and he imagined how hard this sudden change of circumstances was for her; a stranger to strange people, ruined and swiftly wedded and now part of his family’s fold. God, she was brave. He reached for her hand just as Imogen shoved back her chair and sprinted over. Gabriel immediately let his hand fall to his side.

  “Jane!” Imogen greeted and took his bride by the elbow and gently guided her to the table. His bride. A loud humming filled his ears and he took a frantic look about the table. His gaze collided with Alex’s.

  You can’t even say the word…

  The wry grin on his brother’s lips indicated he even now had detected Gabriel’s tumult.

  “Do you intend to stand and stare at the door all day?” Chloe piped in, cutting into his musings. “Or will you join the breakfast?”

  Jane cast a glance back at him and he gave her a slight nod, intending for her to know he was here, that these people were different than the beasts they’d both known. A servant pulled out the mahogany shell-backed chair and she slid into the seat. Gabriel hurried and sat beside her.

  And just like that, the stilted awkwardness was replaced by the cacophony of discussion and laughter. He swiped his glass of wine and took a long sip. From the corner of his eye, he studied his wife. She spoke with a matter of fact shame about the origins of her birth, but for her strength and proud bearing of her frame, she had the regality of a queen.

  She stilled, as though feeling his gaze upon her, and then looked up. He braced for the hurt and regret in her eyes, but there was merely the spirited glimmer he’d come to expect from the silver flecks. Jane leaned close. “You needn’t worry, Gabriel. I will not have unfair expectations of you simply because I love you.” Simply because I love you. His own siblings barely loved him and for very good reasons.

  He was spared from formulating a reply, as servants rushed forward with platters of food, diverting her attention. Yet, as he sat there, he wished he could be everything Jane deserved.

  Chapter 24

  Having been the daughter of a duke’s mistress, Society and servants alike surely expected that one such as she would have learned her mother’s tricks and inherited her wanton ways.

  Yet, with nothing more than Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s book for company on her wedding night, Jane reflected with a droll amusement on the fact that she: one, didn’t have an inkling as to what truly transpired between a man and woman on one’s wedding night and two, that it didn’t really matter, for hers would never truly be a wedding night.

  With a sigh, she pulled her knees up and flipped open her copy of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman to the folded and marked page. She instantly located the familiar portion of text and mouthed the long ago memorized words.

  “…Whilst they are absolutely dependent on their husbands wives will be cunning, mean, and selfish, and the men who can be gratified by the fawning fondness of spaniel-like affection, have not much delicacy, for love is not to be bought, in any sense of the word, its silken wings are instantly shriveled up when anything beside a return in kind is sought.

  She sat back in her seat and leaned against the wall. Those words took on an altogether new meaning. A love that was not bought, for if it was, the sentiment would shrivel and die. Her mother had been bought. And now so had she. How had she failed to see that? How, until Gabriel had kissed her in his brother’s parlor, did she not realize that she’d sacrificed her future to secure her future? Her mother had shiny baubles and satin skirts. Jane would have her finishing school. Neither knew love, and she never would, by her husband’s horror at her admission.

  A knock sounded at the door and she glanced up. Her heart climbed, and then Chloe entered the room, and Jane’s heart slipped all the way down to her toes. “Chloe,” she said softly as she took in the usually cheerful woman’s drawn features. She squinted into the dark at the ormolu clock atop the fireplace mantel. “It is late. Is everything all right?” She jumped to her feet. “Is it your head?”

  Chloe pushed the door closed and waved. “No, it is not another of my megrims.” She walked with a brisk clip over to Jane and then stopped before her. “It is Gabriel.”

  She looked about, her heart thundering hard once again.

  “He is not here,” the young woman said, interpreting Jane’s question.

  Sleep had eluded her, and since they’d returned from the lavish wedding breakfast thrown by Lord Alex and his wife, Gabriel had disappeared. Unknowing how else to respond, Jane merely uttered, “Oh.” Of course he was not here. The office had been empty and quiet from the moment she’d retired for the evening.

  Chloe gave her head a firm shake and pursed her lips. “You misunderstand me, Jane. He is not here. He is,” she slashed the air with an angry hand.
“He is gone out to his clubs or…wherever else it is gentlemen go,” she said furiously.

  Jane drew back to prevent from being hit by one of those wildly gesticulating hands. The young woman’s words registered and pain knifed through her heart. It should not matter. Gabriel had already been abundantly clear that theirs was to be a marriage in name only. Yet foolishly she’d believed, nay hoped, there would be more…that there would be a real marriage and a wedding night and—

  With a growl, Chloe planted her arms akimbo. “You are not to look like that.”

  She cocked her head.

  “Dejected,” Chloe supplied. “You should be livid. Why, it is bad enough he’s allowed me to remain here so that you can’t…be alone as husband and wife.” Most young ladies would have been blushing red after having uttered those words.

  A strangled laugh bubbled up and lodged in her throat. Oh, God love Chloe. She no longer knew whether to laugh or cry.

  Chloe made a sound of sympathy and then patted Jane’s shoulder. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

  Jane smiled. “I was laughing.”

  The other woman snapped her eyebrows together. “Well, laughter is certainly not the appropriate sentiment.”

  She schooled her features. “Forgive me,” Jane murmured. “I’m unfamiliar with the proper protocol for being abandoned by one’s husband on one’s wedding night.”

  Horror lit Chloe’s eyes as she registered just how her bold words about Gabriel this night might affect Jane. She slapped her palm to her forehead. “I am such a ninny. Of course you are hurt.”

  Filled with a restive energy, Jane swept up her book and wheeled away from Gabriel’s sister. She carried it over to the window at the opposite end of the room. “Ours is an arranged match, Chloe. Ours was formed because I was ruined and your brother had some misbegotten sense of loyalty to do right by me.”

  The snap of satin skirts indicated the young lady had moved. “As he should. Gentlemen do not go about ruining young ladies without then wedding those same ladies.” With her strict expectations, Chloe would be far better suited to any post with Mrs. Belden than Jane had ever been.

  She fanned the pages of her book. “The funds settled upon me by my father were contingent upon my marriage.” She could not keep the bitterness from her words. After all these years, those three thousand pounds had represented the one thing her father had done for her that indicated he cared and worried for her future.

  “What?” the young woman exclaimed, her tone that of one who’d been dealt a sharp jab in the belly.

  She cast a glance back at Chloe. “Your brother offered to wed me so I might access those funds. He doesn’t want a,” her cheeks burned, “true marriage. He wishes me to serve as your companion until you are wed.”

  “I will not marry. But if I did,” the young woman gave her a pointed look. “Which I will not. Ever—”

  “Chloe,” she prodded gently.

  “Er, yes, right…if I did, I would not tolerate my husband abandoning me on my wedding night. The lout,” she muttered that last part under her breath. She pointed a finger at Jane. “And neither should you. Furthermore,” she went on. “All he has done is fueled more gossip where you are concerned. The lout.”

  “It matters not, Chloe. They will speak ill of me regardless.”

  “But he can protect you where he could.” Those words burst from the young woman’s lips. Her chest rose and fell with the force of her rapid breaths. “He wedded you to protect you? And you for what? Your three thousand pounds?”

  It had begun as that. Or at least she’d convinced herself as much. Jane dropped her gaze to the tips of her toes. She’d proven herself a liar in every way, now.

  “It wasn’t truly about your funds though, was it, Jane?” her sister-in-law said with a maturity of one far older, who saw far more.

  And because she’d grown tired of all the lies, she shook her head once.

  “You love him.” As the young woman’s words were a statement, Jane remained silent, not trusting herself to speak.

  She started as a small pair of hands settled upon her shoulders. Absorbed as she’d been in her own ponderings, she’d failed to hear Chloe’s quiet approach. “Win his heart,” Chloe urged softly. “He is afraid to love.” She hesitated the fraction of a moment. “We all are. But Gabriel wants it. He just doesn’t think himself worthy of that sentiment.” She wrinkled her nose. “The protective, controlling man he’s become, he likely blames himself for…for…just for,” she finished lamely. “He’s always been that way.” A sad smile turned her lips up. “Since he was a boy.”

  A hungering to know more about who he’d been as a child filled Jane. She swallowed hard to keep from asking about his youth. She’d wager he would have been a serious boy with the weight of the world upon his little shoulders. “What was he like?” Alas, there was the whole business with her tongue having a will of its own.

  “Serious,” Chloe said automatically. “Alex was the smiling, laughing one. Philippa the obedient one. But as he was much older, I did not truly know Gabriel. I remember him to be the serious one of our family.” She lifted her shoulders in a little shrug. “We all, each of us, learned to deal with the life we were given. Except, Gabriel, well, he took on the responsibility for what happened to us.”

  Agony lanced through her heart. Her life had been lonely and uncertain, but it had not been a violent one. “It was not his fault.” Surely, all these years later, he knew that.

  “Oh, I know that. But do you think a man of Gabriel’s character could ever absolve himself of that misplaced guilt?”

  A knot formed in her belly. “No,” she said softly. For the person his sister had described would never cease to accept blame, nor could he not take care of others. That desire to protect at all costs was just one more piece of Gabriel Edgerton that she loved.

  Chloe jabbed her finger once more and wagged it at Jane. “You are not to tolerate his loutish behavior. Is that clear?”

  Jane managed a small smile, even as her heart was still breaking for Gabriel. “Abundantly clear,” she assured.

  Chloe dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Goodnight.”

  As the other woman took her leave, Jane sighed. A good night, indeed.

  “Are you mad?”

  Gabriel glanced up from his empty glass. Waterson towered over him with a bemused look on his face. “Waterson.” He motioned to a chair. “Will you not join me?”

  The other man frowned and tugged out the seat. “You abandoned your wife on her wedding night?” his friend asked without preamble.

  Gabriel cast a glance about and found a sea of stares directed at them. He frowned. Rather him. After all, it wasn’t every day that a proper marquess was caught with his sister’s companion, at the opera, in dishabille, wedded, and then at his clubs in the course of a thirty-six hour span. “I did not abandon her,” he said and shifted in his seat. “Furthermore,” he said, dropping his voice to a hushed whisper. “Ours is a matter of convenience and the lady is far better off without me.”

  His friend snorted and swiped the bottle. “I will take that.” He robbed Gabriel of his glass and poured a brandy for himself. He lifted the glass in salute. “If you believe that, friend, then you were the only one to see different at your wedding breakfast this morning.” A servant started over with another glass, but Waterson caught the eye of the young man and gave him a look that sent him scurrying in the opposite direction. When he returned his attention to Gabriel, he wasted little time in getting to the heart of it. “I understand you did not want to marry the young woman,” Was that wholly true? Everything was so blasted murky.

  His friend continued “But your being here,” he gave his head a shake. “Why, your being here does nothing to help Lady Waverly. It only complicates matters for the both of you.”

  Lady Waverly. Not his mother. But a new marchioness. A role he’d had no intention of filling. He reached for his drink and then registered the blasted thing in Waterson’s hand.
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  The earl swirled the contents in a slow movement and stared contemplatively down into the glass before again speaking. “Of course, I do see why you would be regretful and prefer the presence of your clubs at this moment.”

  He frowned.

  Waterson flicked a hand. “You’ve once again done the honorable thing and for that, you’re married to the daughter of a who—”

  Gabriel leaned across the table and grabbed Waterson by the collar. Liquid spilled over the rim of the other man’s glass and splashed their fingers and wet the table. “Shut your bloody mouth or, by God, I will end you,” he seethed. How dare the other man disparage Jane? She was worth both of them and every other blasted gentlemen of their acquaintance combined.

  A twinkle of amusement glinted in the other man’s knowing eyes and Gabriel released him with such alacrity, the earl fell back into his seat. He’d merely baited him. “Say whatever it is and be done with it,” he snapped.

  Only, he didn’t need the other man to supply his thoughts to know precisely what he was thinking. Gabriel had no place being here. Not tonight. Not in light of the scandal and certainly not having deposited his new wife, at home. Now Society knew it as well.

  “I’ve certainly heard the whispers about her—”

  Gabriel fisted the arms of his chair. The whispers. I am a whore’s daughter…. That is what all polite Society would say about her. Fury hung like a black curtain over his eyes. “I don’t want to hear about the damned whispers,” he gritted out. The ton would not see the brave young woman with far nobler aspirations than most.

  “I’ve been your only friend for nearly twenty years. Not once in the course of your life have you asked for, accepted, or appreciated any help being given to you. Mine or anybody’s.” Waterson held his gaze. “No man is an island, unto itself, and so you’ll accept my blasted help whether you wish it or not. You will begin by going home and making love to your wife.”

  A dull flush heated Gabriel’s neck, as with those words, Waterson roused seductive images of Jane, resplendent in her nudity, with her golden blonde tresses cascading in waves about them.