A Duke to Die for: The Rogues' Dynasty (18 page)

When the clothing was off, he settled back against the chair again. She gave him the glass of wine and studied him while he took a sip.

He looked comfortable and yet still so handsome and powerful in his collarless shirt and buff-colored trousers. Her gaze settled on his neck. She had never seen it before because it was always hidden beneath his high collar and expertly tied neckcloth. He had a strong, masculine neck and, for reasons she didn’t understand, she wanted to kiss him there.

The cut of his shirt showed how broad his chest was and how narrow and lean his hips were. The fabric of his trousers stretched tightly over impressive, muscular thighs and lower legs.

Henrietta had an overwhelming urge to crawl up in his lap and snuggle against his chest. She wanted to bury her face in the crook of his neck and drink in the heady scent of him. Never, since her father had died, had she wanted to be cuddled in a man’s strong arms, but right now she wanted that more than anything. She wanted to melt against his chest and be cradled in his arms so desperately that her heart drummed in her chest.

“Do you think perhaps you should take off your shirt and let me look at your injury to see if it is healing properly?”

Blakewell looked up at her and smiled so disarmingly that her heartbeat slowed and she relaxed.

“Do I amuse you?” she asked, still standing between his powerful legs and looking down at him with curiosity.

He let out a half chuckle. “Yes. I wouldn’t take my shirt off in front of you even if I was bleeding to death. You are already on dangerous ground by standing between my legs. Henrietta, I’m straining to keep from compromising you further than I already have with my kisses and caresses. But just so you know, there is nothing to see but a few bruises. My injury is in the joint of my shoulder. It’s going to hurt like the bloody devil until it heals, but heal it will.”

“All right, if you are sure.”

“I am.”

He continued to grin at her, a handsome, breathtaking grin that made her want to throw her arms around him, hug him close, and kiss him solidly on the lips.

“You don’t really want to see my injury. You just want to see me without my shirt, don’t you?”

Henrietta blinked rapidly. Had he been able to read her thoughts?

“No, no. Of course not, I thought you might have an open wound that needed a clean bandage.”

“Henrietta.”

“Oh, all right,” she said, with a light stamp of her stockinged foot on the floor. She clasped her hands together in front of herself for fear she would reach down and touch him. It was impossible to hide the truth from him. “I admit I am curious about how you look without your shirt.”

With a satisfied smile, he drank from his wine again and then whispered, “You tempt me, Henrietta, but I must resist.”

She took a deep, steadying breath and looked into his intriguing eyes. “I truly don’t mean to, Your Grace. I swear I have never wanted to see any other man without his shirt.”

His gaze held fast to hers. “I believe you, but as it is, it’s taking all I have not to take advantage of your generous help tonight.”

Henrietta took a step away from him and away from the chair, thankful he wasn’t throwing her out of the room for speaking what she felt deep inside. In truth, she not only wanted to see his chest, she wanted to touch him and feel the firmness of the muscles beneath his taut skin. And God help her, for some reason she didn’t understand, she wanted to kiss his strong neck and broad chest.

But she couldn’t tell him any of that. She shouldn’t even be thinking it. Her guardians had raised her to be a lady of quality.

She should leave him now. She had done all she could to make him comfortable. But how could she force herself to leave him, when she wanted nothing more than to be with him, in this cozy room with golden light and rain gently tapping the windowpanes?

Henrietta looked around the room and saw a small brocade footstool. She retrieved it and brought it over to his chair, set it down at his legs, and then sat on the stool.

“What are you doing? You don’t have to sit on a stool at my feet, Henrietta. Please sit in a chair.”

I want to be closer to you than the chair will allow me
to be.

“I’m all right here,” she said, looking up at him with all the passion she was feeling for him.

He seemed more relaxed with his head against the back of the upholstered chair. It pleased her that the pain that had been etched in his features when they arrived had lessened.

“The wine must be making you feel better. The strain is gone from your face, and you are looking more comfortable.”

“It’s not just the drink that has me feeling better. It is you, too.”

She smiled at him. “I am glad.”

“I love the low-cut neckline of your dress tonight, Henrietta. I’ve only seen you in your very prim clothing. You look very womanly. Constance knew exactly what design to pick for you to show just enough to make every man’s mouth water tonight. Your skin is beautiful, tempting, and the swell of your breasts beneath your gown has me thinking things that I should not think.”

Henrietta’s breaths quickened at his words.

“Only you have control over your thoughts.”

“Point taken. We must talk about something else.” He cleared his throat. “It appears you stayed busy in the evenings while I was at Valleydale. No doubt I owe my organized desk to your ministrations.”

“It was such a small thing to do for you. It took no time at all to come in here in the evenings and organize your mail and documents. I hope you don’t mind that I did.”

“I don’t. I’m glad. That will help me immensely when I sit down to go over it.”

“Your solicitor certainly sends a lot of papers over for your signature. It’s no wonder you stay backed up on your correspondence.”

“It is hell being a duke and in charge of so many properties and accounts. Perhaps I will look over some of it tomorrow before I meet with Gibby. Right now, I feel too much like a bird with a broken wing.”

She laughed softly. “Not just any bird, Your Grace; you remind me of an eagle. An eagle with a bent feather, not one with a broken wing.”

He chuckled. “I like your analogy better than mine.”

“That is because mine is more exact. Tell me how your injury happened.”

“We were riding over the lands of Valleydale, an estate my grandmother left to Morgan. He keeps most of his thoroughbred horses there.”

“And you were riding one of those horses?”

“No, just one of his best mares. We were racing as we often do late in the afternoon before the sun sets and it gets too dark and cold to be out. My horse stepped in a hole, and we both went down.”

“The horse?”

A wrinkle of disquiet formed between his brows. “We had to put the mare out of her misery. She broke her leg, and there was nothing to be done.”

Henrietta leaned forward, almost touching his knees with her breasts. “I’m sorry about the horse. I’m sure it was dreadful for Lord Morgandale to have to put his horse down, but I’m more worried about you. You could have been killed.”

His gaze searched her face. “I was never in any danger of dying, Henrietta. What happened was an accident. That is all.” He rose and placed the wine on the desk by his clothing. He reached down and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I want you to hear me well on this. What happened to me had nothing to do with a curse. Not the mushroom, not the balloon, not the shoulder. All of them could just as easily have happened to someone else.”

She cupped his strong, warm hand in both of hers. “But it was you.”

“Yes, because I was the unlucky one. Tell me, who told you there was a curse on you or your guardians?”

It was such an abrupt departure from what they were talking about that, for a moment, Henrietta was stunned. She noticed his glass was almost empty, so she said, “Can I get you more wine?”

“No, not now, and don’t try to change the subject. I want to hear more about this curse that plagues you. Who told you about it?”

She let go of his hands and folded her own in her lap. “Her name was Mrs. Goolsby.”

“Somehow that name seems fitting. How and when did she tell you about the curse?”

Henrietta had been completely comfortable talking about his injury, and she had loved helping ease the pain in his shoulder, but just thinking about the time she spent with Mrs. Goolsby chilled her.

She lowered her head and hooded her eyes with her lids. “I don’t want to bother you with this when you are in such discomfort.”

“Thanks to you, I am feeling much better than when we arrived. I want to know everything about this woman and what she said to you.”

Henrietta remained quiet, refusing to look at him. She didn’t want to remember anything about that woman or the time she spent with her.

“Henrietta?”

His tone was soft and persuasive, yet she still wasn’t willing to respond to him.

He leaned forward and cupped her chin with his fingers, lifting her face toward his and holding her captive with the merest pressure. “Tell me,” he said softly. “Look at me and tell me everything this woman said to you.”

Henrietta lifted her lashes and stared into the duke’s calm, reassuring eyes. She loved this man with her whole being. She loved him, and she could trust him with her past.

Fourteen

My Devoted Grandson Lucien,

Here are a few sober and sensible words from Lord
Chesterfield: “Do not be seduced by the fashionable word
‘spirit.’ A woman of spirit is
mutatis mutandis
; the duplicate
of a man of spirit—a scold and a vixen.”

Your loving Grandmother,

Lady Elder

REALIZING THE DEPTH OF HER LOVE FOR HIM AND feeling his gentle strength gave Henrietta the courage she needed to confide in him. She wanted to turn and bury her face in the palm of his hand and slowly drink in the musky scent of him, but instead, she kept her sanity and managed to say, “All right, what do you want to know?”

“Everything. This woman, did she put the curse on you and your guardians, or did she just tell you that it was there?”

“I—I don’t know. I was only seven at the time. I remember her holding me by the shoulders and saying to me that I was cursed. I would have many guardians and they would all die.”

Blakewell moved his hand and let the backs of his fingers caress down her cheek and across the crest of her shoulder and then glide trippingly down her arm.

“All right, maybe you should start by telling me about your parents’ death. Do you mind?”

Yes. Don’t make me remember.

The concern in his eyes and the tender expression on his face were sincere and comforting, but still her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard. “I haven’t talked about them in a long time.”

“I can imagine why. It’s not too painful for you to talk about them tonight, is it?”

Yes. Don’t make me, please!

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. For so long now, I’ve tried to forget the memories of that night. It serves no purpose to remember the accident. I found out a long time ago that I couldn’t change the past.”

He picked up her hand and covered it with his while his other hand stroked her arm softly, repetitively.

“I’d like to know what happened. Why don’t you start with the day of the accident?”

Suddenly, as if a curtain was slowly, dramatically rolled back, Henrietta allowed her memory to open and reveal the dark, stormy night many years ago that lay heavy with fog, and smelled of damp clothing and wet horse.

“My parents and I were on our way home from a visit with my father’s half-brother, Lord Phillip Bennett. Though the journey between our houses was a good day-and-a-half carriage ride, my father made the decision that we wouldn’t stop for the night, but continue home.” She paused, and moistened her lips. “We had two drivers and a footman with us, as well as my mother’s maid. My father said we were well protected from highwaymen, and we were safe from them, but not the weather. It had turned ghastly late in the afternoon. I remember that the driver stopped the coach twice and said he couldn’t see through the rain and fog. Papa ignored his warnings and told him to continue.”

“That was dangerous. Did he have good reason for such action?”

The duke’s warm hand continued to move up and down her arm, warming her with his touch. It was as if he knew that thinking about that night had always chilled her.

“He told my mother he had a horrible pain in his chest and was desperate to get home to his own bed.”

“Was the pain near his heart?”

Her hand flew to her chest. “Yes, I remember watching him throughout the evening. His hand constantly rubbed the area of his chest over his heart. We must have traveled for hours in the slashing rain, and I must have fallen asleep because I remember waking up and thinking someone had lifted me up and was throwing me from one side of the coach to the other and back again. I heard my mother’s screams, my father yelling for the driver.”

Henrietta stopped, not wanting to go farther into the darkness of that night.

Blakewell lifted her hand from her chest, carried it to his lips, and kissed the back of her palm. His touch was comforting and reassuring. His grayish-brown eyes were dark with sympathy and concern.

“It sounds as though perhaps the coach went over an embankment? Is that what happened?”

She nodded and swallowed hard once again. “I will never forget the sounds of the horses screeching and screaming. There was terrible screaming from my mother and her maid. I heard wood splintering and cracking as the carriage broke apart, and then nothing. Nothing, but blackness and silence.”

“You were knocked unconscious?”

“I woke to rain hitting my face. It was dark, so dark, and I was so wet and cold. I started trembling, and I couldn’t stop. I called to my parents, but they didn’t come to me.”

Henrietta felt tears pool in her eyes, and then spill over and run down her cheeks. She didn’t want to cry. She hated crying from anyone. It was a weakness she never allowed herself, but now she was powerless to stop the tears from falling as freely as they had that black night.

The duke leaned forward and gently tugged on her upper arms. “Come sit here on the chair with me. Let me hold you.”

He scooted over, giving her enough room to fit beside him in the large wing-back chair. He drew her into his embrace. Heat from his hard body soothed and comforted her at once.

Henrietta stared into the flickering flame of the lamplight as her story continued to tumble out. “I lay there crying until first light, praying my parents would find me, but they didn’t. No one came for me. When I crawled to my feet and saw the chaos the wreck had caused, I started screaming.”

A sniffle escaped past her lips. Blakewell’s arms tightened around her. “I don’t know when I stopped. The coach had been completely destroyed, broken into hundreds, thousands of pieces, strewn over a wide area. The horses lay halfway up the embankment, as still as the people.”

“Your parents and the others?”

“I found my father first and tried to wake him. I shook him, but he wouldn’t wake up. And then I found my mother. Her eyes were open, but she wouldn’t respond to me. She was wet and cold. I hugged her close, but I couldn’t wake her.”

A heaving sob broke from Henrietta’s throat, and she suddenly was wrapped in the duke’s strong embrace. She buried her face in the crook of his warm neck and cried. Her body shook as she wept for the loss of her mother, her father, her guardians who might have lived longer if only the accident hadn’t happened, if only there was no curse on her.

“Cry all the pain out,” the duke whispered against her ear as he held her close. “I’ll hold you. I won’t let go of you,” he whispered.

“I hate crying,” she said between gulping breaths. “I hate fear.”

“Ssh, Henrietta, it’s all right to cry sometimes. It will make you feel better. And you don’t have to fear anything. You are safe here with me. Everything is going to be all right.”

Blakewell murmured reassurances to her as his hands ran up and down her back. She snuggled deeper into his strong arms. He was broad and powerful. She felt small, safe, and content in his protective hold. She wanted him to hold her like this forever. Her sobs quieted.

When her tears were spent and her sniffles silent, she raised her head and rubbed the last of the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I had no idea I would still be so moved talking about the accident.”

He pushed a strand of hair away from her face and dried a streak of wetness from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. He gave her an understanding smile. “Don’t apologize for crying, Henrietta. It’s all right. There is nothing wrong in crying over the loss of your parents. That kind of hurt never goes away.”

With his good arm, he reached over to his desk, pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, and gave it to her.

“Feel better?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’ve never been able to get that scene out of my mind. There was such a horrible jumble of brokenness. I started gathering the pieces of the carriage that I could carry or drag. I laid them out like pieces of a puzzle so I could sort them. I wanted to put the pieces back together. I wanted to make the carriage whole so everything would be right again.”

He wiped her damp cheek again with his fingertips. “So that is why you hate disorder. You are still trying to put the pieces of the carriage back together, still trying to make your life whole again.”

She put the handkerchief aside. “You would think that, by now, I would know that I cannot do that, but I’ve wanted to so many times.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Some lessons are hard to learn. I wish I could make the pain of the past go away as easily as you relieved my pain tonight.”

“You have helped me by holding me close. I have seldom been hugged or even touched since my parents died. Thank you.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll have to remember that and hug you more often. Tell me, when you couldn’t wake your parents, you started gathering pieces of the carriage, right?”

She nodded.

“What else do you remember?”

“It was cold. I was wet. My hair, my shoes, my clothing. I kept moving, taking pieces of the carriage to one place. My mother looked so cold. I found a blanket that we had used in the carriage and covered her.”

“My heart breaks for you, Henrietta. What a frightful thing to have happened to any little girl. But I need to know more about Mrs. Goolsby. Was she the one who found you?”

“Yes.”

“That morning?”

“I don’t remember the time of day, but I glanced up and saw an old woman standing some distance away, looking at me. She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. We just stared at each other for a long time. She was dressed all in black. When she walked closer, I could see she was very thin and her shoulders were hunched. She had sharp features and a pale complexion, and her eyes looked like small dark beads.

“I can’t remember every detail, but I know I walked with her back to her house. We climbed into an open carriage, and she took me to a man’s house. He questioned me about the accident. I told him my uncle’s name and where he lived. The man asked the old woman if she could keep me until they notified my uncle and he came for me. She agreed only after they offered her money for my care.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. So did you stay with her until your uncle arrived?”

“Yes. Mrs. Goolsby was a disagreeable woman, muttering to herself all the time. When we got back to her house, she took me upstairs to the attic and told me I had to stay up there because that was where the ghosts lived in every house.”

He brushed another errant strand of hair from her face. “That was cruel of her,” he said.

“She said I had been cursed, and she couldn’t have me living in her house or she would die, just as my parents had. I told her I wasn’t a ghost and I wasn’t cursed, that I was a girl. She laughed and said, ‘Of course you’re cursed.’ She took hold of my shoulders and shook me. Her long nails bit into my arms as she said, ‘I can see it in your eyes. That’s why your life was spared when all the others in the coach were killed.’”

“That makes her more than just a disagreeable old woman, Henrietta. That makes her sound like a wicked witch. How could that man, whoever he was, have left you in the care of someone so insane?”

“Perhaps he didn’t know her. I remember I tried to run away one day, but she caught me before I got out of the house and marched me back up to the attic. That’s when she told me that I would have many guardians in my lifetime, but none of them would be with me for long. She said that anyone who had charge over me would die before I left their care, just as my parents had died.”

“And you believed her?”

“I don’t think I did, not at first. But how could she have known I would have many guardians? My father’s will hadn’t been read at that time. And it’s as if he, too, had some kind of premonition, or why else would he have named so many guardians? Mr. Milton told me it was highly unusual to specify that many guardians in a will.”

“I’m sure he just wanted his only child well taken care of, should anything happen to him, and you have been well cared for, haven’t you?”

“Yes, except for the short time I was with Mrs. Goolsby.”

“So she didn’t actually put the curse on you; she just said you were cursed?”

She looked deeply into his eyes. “Yes. It was so long ago, I’m sure I don’t remember everything exactly as she said it. I’m telling you the way I remember it.”

“I’m sorry you lost your parents when you were so young and in such a horrific manner.” He reached down and kissed her softly, briefly on the lips. “You never have to think about that old woman and what she said to you ever again.”

Henrietta inhaled deeply, loving the smell of him, the taste of him, and the feel of him so close to her. “But I do think about what she said, Your Grace. The curse is real, and my fear for your life is great.”

Without asking permission, he bent his head and kissed her softly on the lips again. “I want to erase any more thoughts of the past from your mind. Did that help?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

She wound her arms around his neck, reached up, and kissed him with all the passion and hunger she was feeling for him. The duke matched her kiss for kiss as he positioned her body so that she was pressed into the hardness of his lap.