The Lady and Her Pirate Duke

by Jilian Rouge

  The memory of Georgie’s gasp just outside the library doors pained him still, just as it had when he first heard it. Immediately, he had run out of the library, away from his father, racing after Georgie through Lyonscar Castle’s halls. Georgie had always been a good runner, and even then, he had trouble catching up to her lighter form. They had passed a puzzled Lionel on the way towards the stables before Rafe could catch up to her, and he had blocked her from reaching for his horse, Apollo.

  “Let me by,” Georgie had snarled at him, all traces of the sweet girl he had grown up with, gone. Her flight from the library had her heaving great breaths in an effort to gain her breath back. Her cheeks were high in color, and fool that he was, Rafe had never been more attracted to her than at that moment.

  “Georgie, please. Let me explain,” he had pleaded, fear flooding his heart that this just might be the point of no return for them both.

  She had screeched in indignation, and fired hotly, “I knew our marriage was not a love match, and yet you made me believe you cared for me! And all the while, I was only a means to an end for you, wasn’t I? You had to have your father dangle me in front of your nose in order to have your debts forgiven!” Her eyes blazed with fiery outrage, her body taut with her fury.

  “No, that isn’t it at all! I mean, not at first, but—” he said lamely, before she had shot him with a derisive look.

  “Not at first! Then, am I not enough of a friend for you to have betrayed me as such? I cannot forgive you for such callous, thoughtless treatment. Especially when you had caught me unawares with your proposal while Nicholas was lost to me. How could you, Rafe?” Her eyes had suddenly lost their fire, and Rafe’s breath hitched painfully at the force of the sadness he saw in them. He had wondered if she had begun to care for him a little, as more than just a childhood friend, but he knew he shattered all hope of something more with his unintentional deceit.

  Pleadingly, he had cried, “Georgie, you don’t understand! My father would have turned me out without a penny to my name if I hadn’t asked you to marry me. It was all I could do to curry favor in my father’s eyes.”

  “And in so doing, you sealed my fate to be bound to you! I would have been content to have been left alone, a spinster forever than be subjected to your brand of cruelty.” She turned away from him in disgust, preparing to jump onto Apollo’s back and ride off.

  Rafe grabbed for her arm before she could step up onto the mounting block, and she violently shook his grip off of her arm. With a seething glare, she hissed, “Stay away from me! Far away! You needn’t bother showing your face around me ever again!”

  Her words had devastated him, severing any hope he had of making their marriage a happy one. He had let her go, allowing her to take his own horse, presumably towards the Penticton estate that neighbored his own home, towards the bosom of her family.

  Dejected and morose, Rafe had ridden out to the nearest tavern once a Penticton stable hand had returned his horse. If he hadn’t chosen the seedy tavern down by Plymouth Docks, maybe he wouldn’t have been stolen away while he was passed out cold from drink. Maybe if he hadn’t been feeling sorry for himself after Georgie’s rejection, he wouldn’t have had reason to be in that tavern in the first place.

  Regardless of the many what-ifs that had run through his mind over the years, nothing could erase the amount of suffering he had been forced to endure before his rescue. The lashes, the beatings, and the starvation had taught him more than his privileged upbringing could ever teach him about the brutality another human being could inflict on another.

  Despite the past five years of living on the high seas, he could never truly forget the sweet memory of Georgie melting in his arms. Nor could he forget the way she had made him feel while in her arms: whole, complete, and clean. She had made him want to be better than he was, to strive to be a man worthy of her attention and love. She was his one regret, the reason he had longed for home for five hard years. However, his obligations to the Crown had only now landed him back on English shores, and once he had dispensed with those commitments, he was going straight to Georgie’s side.

  To claim her as his wife as he was, as the second son of the Duke of Lyonscar: Captain Raphael Griffiths.

  3

  Ravenscroft, The Earl of Merrick’s Home, One Week Later

  Without Lady Rumina, or Rue as she was known to close friends, Georgie would not have found herself having a grand time, especially during a time when she desperately needed a distraction. She would forever be grateful to Rue for suggesting she and Ernest accompany her to Lady Merrick’s annual country party as she struggled with indecision at the newest crossroad in her life.

  Sitting at dinner with Ernest, Rue, and Rue’s attentive suitor, Mr. Christian Stanhope, it was so easy to forget that her life was more complicated than she would have liked. The Merrick’s kitchens did not disappoint with the scrumptious courses presented at the dinner table, and Georgie found it easy to lose herself in the genial atmosphere surrounding her. With the exception of the earl, who looked menacing enough to ward off any conversation his way, the mood around the dinner table was subdued yet made comfortable with present company.

  While Rue was engaged in conversation with both Ernest and Mr. Stanhope, Georgie gave every appearance of listening closely, but in reality, she was completely immersed in her own thoughts. Unbeknownst to Rue and Ernest, she had been warring with the decision to somehow dissolve her marriage. She knew that obtaining a divorce was no easy feat, but since Captain Nicholas Belhaven had found himself a widower for nigh a year, Georgie believed that this might be her only opportunity to strike up their reacquaintance.

  Since joining His Majesty’s Royal Armoured Corps shortly after he had married, Georgie had been certain that he was irrevocably lost to her. She had known that he had only married the wealthy heiress to appease his father and that their marriage had nothing to do with love. Just like her own marriage to Rafe Griffiths.

  However, Nicholas’ wife had died in childbirth a year hence, the child lost along with her, and now, Nicholas was once again an eligible bachelor. The only barrier, besides her own marriage, to making Nicholas hers was the fact that her own cousin, Miss Bernadette Montagu, also had her eyes on Nicholas. And since the Season had begun, Nicholas couldn’t help but notice pretty, petite Bernadette, who was her complete opposite in looks and demeanor.

  And while she had nothing against her own cousin, Georgie couldn’t help but feel like she was revisiting old hurts, once again involving an unavailable Nicholas. Neither party knew how she felt about either of them, but even if she had her sights set on Nicholas, Georgie could do nothing about it since she was still married to Rafe. Once again, she had been relegated to the sidelines of balls, watching Nicholas slip further away from her, and by the unassuming ways of her own cousin, no less.

  Dreams she once had of acquiring her ideal husband were just that: dreams. But she was tired of letting her life be overruled by circumstances she couldn’t control. Since her ill-fated, two-day marriage to Rafe, she promised herself that there was no force on earth that would come between her and what she wanted. She would see to it that her life no longer became subject to the machinations of others, not when she finally had her life organized the way she liked.

  Cousin Bernadette, for all of her petite prettiness and innocence, was no match for what Georgie liked to call her own brand of worldly sophistication. Having been properly educated into the amorous arts by none other than Rafe, Georgie realized how powerful feminine allure could be once she learned how to wield it sincerely. Simply by being true to her own nature but tempered by the social dictates of her station, Georgie found she had no lack of male interest once she was ready to join the ton’s ranks after her debacle of a marriage.

  However, this time around, Georgie was proactively seeking Nicholas out, ensuring that she would not repeat the mistake of allowing him to slip through her fingers. Since Nicholas had come out of mourning just months ago, the two of t
hem had resumed their easy friendship, and he had become a regular fixture once again in the Montagu household. It wasn’t a hardship to fall back into such comfortable familiarity when they both shared a good number of their formative years together.

  With the start of the season, it had stood to reason that Georgie’s mother, Lady Dolores Montagu, would sponsor eighteen-year-old Bernadette for her come-out. Since her arrival to their London townhouse in Mayfair, it also couldn’t be helped that one Captain Nicholas Belhaven would suddenly be overcome by the innocent allure that Bernadette had in spades. It had been obvious by the way he had sought Bernadette out, inquired after her when she wasn’t present, and made a nuisance of himself by calling specifically for Bernadette to pay her court.

  In other words, Georgie may as well be persona non grata as far as Nicholas was concerned. Frustration had threatened to overwhelm Georgie just as she had believed things were finally looking up for her. Fortunately for her, Rue had extended her invitation to the Merrick house party that was hosted every year by the Countess of Merrick, the earl’s mother. Just such a distraction had been entirely welcome as it represented a much-needed break from the sudden havoc her life had suddenly become.

  Sitting at supper, her food untouched, Georgie was brought back to the present as she caught snippets of a quiet conversation between several females of whom Rue had coined as the Ladies of the List. They were so-called due to a certain list drawn up by the countess with the express purpose of giving the earl several choices of a marriageable match.

  “Did you see who had just walked in?”

  “So handsome!”

  “And dark! He looks every inch a pirate despite his evening clothes!”

  “Oh, and he is treating Lord Alexander with such familiarity. See how they address each other?”

  “He looks positively savage with all of that brown skin. If I hadn’t heard him greet the earl, I wouldn’t have thought he was English at all.”

  “A barbarian trussed up as an Englishman!”

  Curious now, Georgie glanced up with only mild interest at the women discussing this late newcomer. Following the direction of their rapt gazes and extending an ear to listen more closely, Georgie casually shot a glimpse of this man that had so enraptured the females around her.

  As male specimens went, this one was resplendent in evening garb, showcasing an intimidating figure of heavily corded musculature that bespoke of incredible strength. His buckskin breeches only served to outline powerful, muscular legs, while his dark blue coat emphasized the tapering of his broad back down to a trim waist. This man was large all over, and she blushed at the errant thought of what it would be like to be up close to such a body. Since all she could spy of him was his back, she noted that his hands were indeed tanned, just as the Ladies had whispered about. His hair was a wavy mass of curls, kept longer than was the fashion, but he had clubbed it back in deference to the occasion.

  Lord Alexander had turned the newcomer towards the dining table to usher him to a seat nearby, and Georgie stilled when she observed his face. Ernest, seated next to her, somehow grasped the change in her demeanor, as silent as she was, and he looked at her, concern written on his face. Although her face was schooled to one of calm, her eyes spoke of the panic she felt, and Ernest followed her gaze towards the man standing next to the earl.

  Raphael Griffiths, much changed since she saw him last, was recognizable by his devil-may-care smile and the overall familial resemblance to his father and brother. He had grown taller, and his familiar face had lost any lingering softness that he had harbored as a youth, his features now all hard planes and angles. The young man she had once known was replaced by this man who reminded her of a predatorial jungle cat, arrogantly striding alongside the earl, giving off an air of menace and danger.

  Embarrassed by her earlier lustful thoughts about him, Georgie hated to admit that she found this new version of Rafe strangely compelling. There was nothing left of the youth she remembered in him, and she marked the new changes the five years away had wrought. While he had always carried himself confidently, his movements were notably slower, but more assured, more leisurely. He looked world-weary, a cynical set to his mouth that wasn’t there when she last saw him. Like a jungle cat, he looked entirely comfortable in this new body flush with masculine strength, one that had been obviously honed by hard labor.

  Georgie watched with bated breath as Rafe’s eyes swept down the dining table, and finally, his gaze met with hers. She couldn’t have prevented the gasp that escaped her even if she tried; his scrutiny of her charged with amplified awareness. She had been familiar with his straightforward gaze all of her life, but she now noticed that it was much more penetrating than ever. His stare felt like he could see past her and into the deepest recesses of her soul and desires. However, his expression remained impassive, but being hyperaware of him, only she had noticed the slight flaring of his eyes when they found hers.

  Then, the earl burst out with, “Rafe! I’m so glad you’ve come! I didn’t think you would make it in time for my mother’s Midsummer ball, but here you are!” Lord Alexander had already jumped from his seat to clasp hands with the towering giant before him. With these two devastatingly handsome men standing side by side, Georgie mused how both seemed to match each other, not just in looks, but in the air of command and power that emanated from them both.

  A dimple flashed in the other man’s cheek as he smiled at his friend’s exuberant greeting. “I apologize for my lateness, but as you already knew, I had urgent business that could not wait.”

  Turning to his mother, who was watching this exchange between her son and this yet unknown stranger with interest, the earl said, “Permit me to introduce you to Captain Raphael Griffiths, Mother. Rafe is an old friend who was instrumental in my securing the several ships that have tripled our fortunes.” He glanced at Rafe. “I am pleased to introduce you to Lady Edith Carruthers, Countess Merrick, my mother.”

  Georgie paid Rue no mind, who looked at her askance and must have noticed the silent exchange between herself and Rafe. She was sure her friend was curious as to why she hadn’t reacted the way every female in the room had to Rafe’s sudden appearance. Beside her, Ernest was frowning mightily in Rafe’s direction—God bless him for being a loving and loyal brother. Only Ernest truly understood her feelings concerning Rafe and could not forgive his childhood friend for his perfidy against her.

  Nor could she forgive the humiliation he had forced her to endure after his disappearance. Not long after Rafe’s disappearance, London gossip had been rife with speculation as to why he had left and that she was the main cause. One hurtful rag sheet claimed that she had tricked him into marriage and had run away after not being able to undergo its consummation. Another raved how her status as a wallflower proved that their match had been ill-fated and that it was inevitable for Mr. Raphael Griffiths to realize his mistake. Of course, the ton believed only what it wanted to believe, and in Georgie’s case, this constant hadn’t worked in her favor.

  But Captain Raphael Griffiths? So, he’d been sailing the high seas for five years without so much as a word to either his father or brother. She hadn’t expected to hear from him directly, especially after their huge row, but neither had she really expected for him to leave England altogether. She had only wanted for him to leave her be, not take himself off to parts unknown.

  Ernest chose that moment to lean towards her and whisper, “Everything all right? You’re looking rather pinched.”

  Tight-lipped and in clipped, hushed tones, she replied, “I’m fine. I’m just surprised that he’s deigned to suddenly reappear after all this time.”

  Ernest wisely said no more as he took in Georgie’s words along with the severe look in her eye. He knew his sister well enough to leave off commenting any further, lest she retaliate by wilting all of his shirt points like she did the last time he had annoyed her.

  Returning her attention once more to her prodigal husband, Georgie observed Rafe�
��s easy manner with the earl and with those surrounding him. He can’t have known about his father and brother while wearing such a calm, open expression; otherwise, he would certainly be showing signs of devastation at their tragic loss. Knowing he loved the old duke and his older brother wholeheartedly, Georgie inwardly ached for Rafe, for the old friend he had been to her, now wishing to spare him the hurt such news would bring.

  After the first year he had gone, Georgie had assumed that Rafe was just being stubborn, his injured pride rendering him unable to return. Georgie had imagined him sulking on some corner of the world, having been cut down and thrown out by his own wife, acting very dramatic and un-Rafe-like. When she had dismissed him, she could not have predicted how childish he was acting by deliberately staying away.

  To spare her any further grief from the gossip-ravenous ton, Georgie had opted to remain in the country, where she turned her favorite hobby into a lucrative endeavor, one that she had kept secret from her own parents. Her new line of work involved sketching and painting portraits, a pastime that had been carried over from childhood.