The Seduction of a Duke (45 page)

 

HE FOUND HER, OR AT LEAST HER BACKSIDE, IN THE OLD Duke’s room.

After she found the key to the safe, she emptied it of the box of receipts and the portrait of Grace Chambers, Duchess of Bedford. She’d bent into the empty safe, just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything when his voice startled her.

“Now that I know I’m not the product of the old Duke’s seed, this room has lost the menace it once held.” She backed out of the safe in time to see him run his fingers up the molding surrounding the door, pressing the grape cluster that released the mantel door.

He had that mischievous glint in his eye, the one that instantly signaled butterflies to take wing in her rib cage. She pushed some stray tendrils off her face. “No more bad memories?”

He glanced about the room, then sighed. “I understand now why he was always so angry with me, and why he was convinced I couldn’t live up to the responsibilities of being the Duke.” He advanced slowly toward her.

“But you do live up to the responsibilities,” she insisted. “Your title doesn’t automatically grant you honor. You bring honor to the title. And you always have.” He was so close. Her heartbeat increased its tempo.

He bent close to her lips. “I’ve missed you.”

She was in the process of rising up to meet his kiss when he snagged the rope dangling from her wrist. He tugged it, pulling her toward the passageway.

“William, what are you doing?” She grabbed the box of receipts, not wanting to leave them out in the open.

He struck a match and lit a candle that sat on the mantel. “Do you remember the story about the little girl who lied to the frog about the liberties she’d allow if only he’d retrieve her ball?”

“Yes, of course.”

William led the way into the passageway; they walked past her room and headed toward his. “Do you remember that the father punished the little girl for not honoring her word?”

“I don’t recall any aspects of punishment in the story.”

William stopped and glanced back over his shoulder at her. “Well, she should have been punished.”

She had some difficulty negotiating the passageway while carrying the box and being led by her wrist, but she managed. Anticipation of spending time alone with William in his bed made the trip less cumbersome.

“I seem to recall that you promised you’d never leave me.” He pulled the lever that opened the door to his room.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. “It wasn’t something I wanted to do—”

He gave a sharp tug on the rope, causing her to stumble through the secret door and smack into his hard chest. He took the box from her and set it aside. “Nevertheless”—he leaned low to her ear, letting his warm breath send titillating currents down to her toes and back—“you need to be punished.”

Holding the end of the rope in his hand, he undressed her. What an amazing feeling, being undressed by a man. His lips would come close to her skin, but he wouldn’t kiss her. She supposed that was her punishment, and a cruel one it was. She wanted those kisses, ached for them. He removed her bodice and lifted a brow at her “unforgettable.”

“You thought to run away from me in this?” he scowled. “Didn’t you know I would have braved the Atlantic just to see you in this corset?”

“They wouldn’t allow me to change.”

He unhooked and unfastened the tapes and hooks at her waist, letting the bulk of fabric slide to the floor. He tugged her forward to step out of the fabric puddle. Then, he took the rope and tied it to the side of the headboard of his bed.

“William, what are you doing?” she asked.

He tugged at his neck cloth, pulling it loose, and with one swift jerk, removed it from his collar. He gazed at her through those half-shuttered eyes.

“Lie down.”

She did, ripples of anticipation slipping through her veins.

He clasped her other arm, then using his silk neck cloth tied it to the other side of the bed. She couldn’t escape whatever he had planned, but honestly, she didn’t want to.

He walked away from the bed and started to undress.

“It seems to me, Miss Winthrop, you’re always running away from me.” He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off.

Lord, he was a sight to behold. Her breasts tingled. “William, I—”

“Is it because you think you’ll find more pleasure with someone else?” He unfastened his pants, letting them fall to the floor.

“No. William, I—”

“Because you won’t.” He removed his drawers and stood before her totally naked, his cock thick and hard.

She felt a pooling between her legs and a delicious thrill of anticipation.

He knelt at her feet and slipped off her shoe. Taking her foot in his hand, he massaged it, then applied pressure to a spot beneath her instep that sent a jolt of dizzying sensation straight to her core. Her toes curled. Sweet heaven! He did the same with the other.

“I think you need to be reminded why you shouldn’t run,” he said.

He slid his hand up her stocking, following the silk beneath her pantalettes. She pulled a bit at the restraints when his hands reached that sensitive patch of skin above her stocking and beneath her garter. Her eyes closed at the intensity of his strong fingers on that tender spot. The sound of ripping cloth had her opening her eyes wide. He’d ripped her pantalettes right off her!

Clad only in her corset and stockings, she lay totally exposed to him. He pushed her legs wide, a mischievous glint in his eye as he peered at her at a level with her legs.

“William . . . we have a house full of family and guests.”

“Let them wait. They’re not my family. Not anymore.” His hand slipped to the juncture of her legs, rimming her, testing her.

“You’re still the son of a duchess and—Sweet Lord in heaven!” His tongue replaced the exploration of his fingers. She twisted at the restraints, but his exquisite assault continued. She was at his mercy, and he was relentless. Waves of delicious sensation urged her higher and higher, until . . .

 

 

EMMA GLANCED UP FROM WATCHING SARAH CHARM HER new grandfather. “Did you hear something?”

Nicholas raised his brow. “The ghost?”

“At this time of day?” Emma shook her head, a knowing smile in place.

 

 

HE WAITED TILL FRANNY WAS ASLEEP. AFTER THE NIGHT she’d had, she would need a few hours to manage the ball tonight. His eyes burned with fatigue, reminding him that a few hours rest for him wouldn’t hurt. But open matters pressed heavily on his mind. He needed to settle the matter of Lady Mandrake and Randolph Stockwell, of course, but also there was something else. A matter of honor and respectability relating to impressions and otherwise.

He sent word requesting Bertie and Nicholas join him in the study. With the box of receipts for the money paid to Thackett and his mother’s portrait in hand, he joined them there.

“I just wanted to offer my sympathies for all that has transpired here since my arrival,” Bertie said. “I’m sure that Stockwell will receive swift and proper justice for what he’s done.” William handed the Prince a snifter of brandy and sipped from his own.

“Now that I have my wife back, I’m inclined to believe that no crime has been committed.” William raised his gaze. Swallowing his pride came easier, now that he knew his true origins. Perhaps he had been a bit pompous in the past about such things. His lips turned in a slight smile. “I shall be happy to see Mr. Stockwell leave England and I will do everything in my power to make that occur as soon as possible. But my wife is adamant that she went with him willingly in the mistaken belief that she was protecting me.”

That last was a bit rough. He couldn’t recall anyone making the kind of sacrifice she had made for his benefit. It twisted his heart. At least, now she understood they would face such problems and threats together, and not separately.

Bertie gazed at him suspiciously. “You do know what went on at that place he took her to. You can’t just walk away from that.”

“I think you may be under a misimpression, Your Highness,” William said. “I know the question she asked of you, but it was not because of a possible consequence of her abduction. Mr. Stockwell did not touch her in that manner. Quite honestly, if he had, he would disappear only to be discovered in the crypts beneath this abbey years hence.”

Bertie chuckled but it was clear he believed William to be the one misinformed.

William glanced quickly to Nicholas, who nodded.

“You see, her question was concerning me,” William captured Bertie’s gaze and held it. “I’m the bastard born to a duke.”

The Prince’s jaw dropped. “What?”

He glanced to Nicholas who added, “As am I.”

“This . . . this is extraordinary,” Bertie gushed.

“Lady Mandrake stumbled upon evidence that the old Duke was impotent. Nicholas and I were sired by another man for purposes of providing the Duke of Bedford with an heir. This information was used to blackmail my wife into leaving with her American friend.”

Bertie looked down at his glass of brandy. “You realize, of course, that if a baby is born to a legal wife within a marriage and claimed by the husband, there can be no question as to the child’s legitimacy?” He lifted his gaze to William. “It’s been that way for centuries. I know that it’s even been suggested that I . . . well . . . I believe it’s fair to say that your claim to the title of Duke of Bedford stands.” He smiled broadly. “If the old Duke did not disclaim you, neither will I.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” He bowed his head slightly. “I felt that as a matter of honor, you should know the truth. Which brings me to Lady Mandrake.”

“Oh, that’s a sorry lot.” Bertie shook his head. “She knew her plot had failed when your wife returned. I found her hastily dressed with that mysterious diary and this.” He pulled a bag of white powder from his pocket. “I’m not sure what it is, but I believe it might have something to do with her husband’s fading health.”

“How is he? Does anyone know?” Nicholas asked.

“Not well, I understand, but improving steadily since your aunt . . . er . . . Lady Rosalyn has seen to his care.”

“Lady Rosalyn might just save Lily from the gallows,” William said.

“What do you want to do about her?” Bertie asked.

“The evidence to her claim is confined to the diary and this box of receipts.” William placed his hand on the box, then looked to his brother. “The diary is . . . ?”

“In the hands of someone who will pose no threat to our family,” Nicholas replied. “He wanted it for sentimental purposes. It’s the only link he has to someone he once loved.”

Bertie’s brows rose. “Then you know who your sire was?”

He glanced at the both of them, but neither responded by word or expression.

“Right then,” Bertie said. “I truly do not need to know. You say that box also contains evidence of Lady Mandrake’s claim?”

William nodded.

Bertie picked up the box and threw it on the embers from the earlier fire. The box blackened and the receipts curled inward before disappearing in quick bursts of flame and crumbling ash. He dusted his hands. “I believe that takes care of that.”

“I trust we can count on your support that should malicious rumors resulting from these revelations surface, they will be discarded as nonsensical?”

“I see no reason to support any claims to the contrary,” Bertie reassured them.

“Excellent.” William lifted his glass in salute. “Normally, I wouldn’t concern myself with rumors true or otherwise, but our sister, Arianne, might be adversely affected should the truth be revealed.”

“I’d forgotten about Arianne,” Bertie conceded. “How is she?”

“She sent her love and congratulations on my recent nuptials from . . . Switzerland, I believe?”

He glanced at Nicholas, who shrugged. “Our sister does enjoy her travels.”

“Is that it, gentlemen?” Bertie asked.

“I believe so,” Nicholas said. “We will keep Mr. Stockwell here tonight and I will personally put him on the train tomorrow.”

“Along with Lily Mandrake,” William added. “Her husband can stay until he’s well enough to travel, then heaven help him.”

“Or her,” Nicholas added.

The men clicked glasses and then dispersed to prepare for the evening’s entertainment.

THE BALL WAS TRULY THE SOCIAL HIGHLIGHT OF the summer in Bedfordshire and surrounding counties. The repairs to the ballroom floor had been completed on time, the many new gilded mirrors added a touch of richness, while the recently installed wood carving of the Bedford crest of arms reminded all of the long ancestry of the Bedford line. William had to admit Franny had been right about its proper placement. She’d been right about so many things.

Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, stood handsome and regal in his evening attire. The young debutants fairly swooned when he looked their way. Several young women in questionable marriages flirted outrageously with him as well. Normally, William would expect to see Lady Mandrake in that group, but she wisely chose not to attend this evening’s festivities.