Her Mystery Duke (12 page)

He broke the kiss and put her from him. The suddenness left
her swaying, fuzzyheaded, and a little dizzy as she watched him turn and walk
to the door.

A moment later, her door closed and he was gone. Out of her
life forever.

Chapter Six

“Hold up, Hartley.”

David stopped and turned.

Toovey approached him, a grin on
his face.

While staring at that idiotic
smirk, David reminded himself that Toovey was not worth the price to his
reputation and standing in the House. The former Duke of Hartley, David’s
father, had been a hotheaded, rash man. David had worked hard to prove himself
a sane, rational-minded, and responsible man. Throttling a fellow peer in the
corridor outside his office wasn’t exactly going to help boost that image.

“Ah, Hartley, that’s a devil of a
fearsome glare.” He laughed softly. “You can’t possibly still bear a grudge? It
was very like a prank in the old Cambridge days, eh?”

“A prank, you say?”

“I told my driver to drop you on
Aldgate High Street that your carriage was being repaired and you had an urgent
appointment there. I stressed that he mustn’t bother you with questions or tell
anyone. I paid him well to assure he didn’t.”

Apparently, Toovey counted on
David’s reluctance to tarnish a hard-earned reputation as well. But then again,
the younger man had always been a loose fish. Whether from the effects of too
much water pipe or any number of other dissipations in the life of a dissolute
nobleman, Toovey seemed increasingly unbalanced of late. And never more so than
when he chuckled. “Just the thought of you stumbling around, not even knowing
where you were—I haven’t laughed so much since I was a boy. I must say, I
didn’t expect you to remain absent for so long.”

“I developed a lung fever.”

Toovey’s grin widened. “And picked
up a pretty little tart to nurse you back to health?”

Not liking the sound of that,
David scowled. “I was recovering at my house.”

“Liar. You were ensconced with a
certain overripe wench, Miss Darling of
Wentworth
Street.”

Before he could think of where he
was, David hand shot out and grasped Toovey by the cravat. The other man’s body
went limp as his back hit the wall and he collapsed into a fit of laughter.

“Stay the hell away from her.”
David gave Toovey’s throat a warning squeeze then gave him a
thorough
shaking. “Do you understand me?”

Toovey had never been a fighter.
In their more youthful days, when David had challenged him to a duel over
Thérèse, Toovey hadn’t shown. Instead, he had used the time to run off to
Ireland with Thérèse.

“Good God, Hartley, you’re just as
knotty-headed as your father ever was. Oh yes, Thérèse told me all about that
part. Your little carnal games with her, and the times when you pushed too
hard. Tell me, does your little harlot from the gutter enjoy your games?”

The disarming disgust of hearing
Thérèse’s name on Toovey’s lips had caused David to slack his grip on the other
man’s neck. Now he tightened it again. “Shut your mouth or I shall shut it
permanently.”

“In the House, David? I know
you’re bluffing. I know you’ll allow nothing and no one to tarnish your
reputation.”

David released him. “You’re not
worth killing.”

Toovey fell back, appearing
stunned a moment. Then he chuckled softly. “She’s really beneath your usual
standard.”

David straightened his jacket and
waistcoat. “I didn’t ask for your evaluation.”

Toovey curled his lip, though his
gaze still glinted with amusement. “That you would even sully yourself with a
slut like her is an insult to dear Thérèse.”

“Stay away from Miss Darling,”
David repeated.

Toovey’s eyes narrowed as if in
speculation. “Such a murderous rage, over a gutter rat?”

“You’ve been warned.” He released
Toovey and walked away.

* * * *

The man had been waiting for
Jeanne in the parlor of her boarding house. Neatly dressed in sober colors, he
was an elderly man with slate gray eyes who wore his yellow-white hair in an
old-fashioned queue.

“Good afternoon, Miss Darling. I
am Mr. Packer. I have come here on behalf of a gentleman known to you.”

“Oh.” At the mention of David, her
palms went damp.
In the week since he had walked out of her life, she’d
been up late every night, drinking black tea laced with brandy, and writing.
During the days, she slept, and dreamed such vivid scenes. In addition to the
final story for the leather-bound collection, three new stories had flown from
her imagination to the page. All that remained now was for her to flesh them
out.

In this way, she’d avoided
thinking about any of the events which occurred during David’s stay.

This reminder wasn’t welcome but
she would get it out of the way as expediently as possible.

“Please, let us sit, Mr. Packer.”
Jeanne motioned to the old, dusty looking pink settee, the sole piece of
furniture in the tiny parlor of her boarding house.

He recoiled slightly. She couldn’t
blame him, but she sat as though there were nothing amiss. He slowly followed
suit and then pulled a rolled paper from his satchel. “The gentleman wishes to
give you some compensation for your trouble.” He unfurled the parchment. “Shall
I read it for you, Miss Darling?”

She reached for the page. “I’d
prefer to read for myself.”

Mr. Packer nodded and handed her
the document.

She scanned the page.

David wanted to gift her with a
small house and a carriage for her use during the remainder of her natural
life. But did she want him to give her such grand gifts? All she had done was
care for him through an illness and bed him. Goodness, it was like a fortune to
a girl like her. But what would he expect in return?

Of course, she knew what he would
expect. Unlimited visiting rights, just as any man would. The visits themselves
weren’t anything to dread. . She’d enjoyed being under him more than any other
man before. Yet his continued visits to her home could only lead to greater and
greater emotional intimacy. Dependency. It would be the gradual opening of
herself to the type of association where she might be expected to give all of
herself. To be drained. Unable to focus on her own work. To have no peace
anywhere but to be at the beck and call of another, every day and night.

“I would like to draw your
attention to item number thirteen.”

She searched for number thirteen
but Mr. Packer spoke before she could find it.

“You agree to never attempt to
contact the gentleman again.”

The shock of that statement wiped
everything from her mind.

Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

“The gentleman wishes to assure
that you do not try to contact him. If contact is needed, he shall contact
you.”

Heat flamed over her face and she
began breathing far too quickly. It hadn’t mattered that he didn’t want to
share his real identity. But for him to so coldly demand in this agreement that
she would never, ever try to find out who he was! Even though she’d had no
intention of taking the offer, she was insulted to the marrow.

He would know where she lived, her
name, everything about her. Presuming she allowed it, he would be able to come
and go from her life and to disturb her peace and privacy as his whims
dictated. But she wasn’t to try and learn who he was or to attempt to contact
him in return. She was done with these men and their selfish carnal needs.
Their one-sided way of relating to her, wanting to impose on her whenever they
willed. But this was the most galling request she’d ever known.

She took the parchment by the top
edge and tore it down the middle.

“Miss Darling!”

She took the two halves and tore
them again. Then she handed them to him. “You may tell the gentleman that I
have no need of his compensation. I merely took care of him in a time of illness.
If he is so afraid I shall impose upon him in the future, he should simply
forget me, as I intend to forget him.” She lifted her chin. “Everything about
him.”

* * * *

The dimmed lights, dark-colored walls
and furnishings, and soft music failed to soothe David’s mind. Lightheaded with
intoxication, he closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. He’d come here
to one of the most expensive brothels in London with the express purpose of
fucking himself into mental and emotional oblivion.

His companions, Lord Cade and Lord
Sable were already each entwined with a comely Cyprian, their gazes glazed with
lust.

“Good evening, Your
Grace.”

Vaguely, he noticed
the brunette who stood before him.
He mumbled
a greeting and, automatically,
he
opened his arms as an invitation and allowed her to slide into his lap.

Her lips brushed his
cheek. Violet. He supposed she could be considered his current favorite. Two
months ago, they had certainly shared a few pleasant hours upstairs. Tonight,
however, her spicy, musk perfume began to cloy.

“You’re so distant this evening.”
Violet reached for the bottle on the table. “Shall I pour you another?”

David accepted another brandy and
appraised his companion. Her heart-shaped face looked all sharp angles, painted
perfection with a pointed little chin. He couldn’t help recalling Jeanne’s
softly rounded face. Her lush body.

Jeanne had torn his
offer to shreds.

Torn it to shreds.

He drained the last of
the brandy.

Since that day, he’d
sent Mr. Packer back twice, and twice Mr. Packer had been denied audience, left
standing on Jeanne's doorway. David hated to leave a debt unpaid. More than
that, he’d been plagued with thoughts of her living in that depressing little
garret. Yes, he’d been touched by her. It did no good to deny it and he was
really too old now to lie to himself. Her blue eyes, large, slightly wistful,
direct and penetrating by turns, haunted his thoughts. Like a man in his
twenties in springtime, sensual memories kept him on the edge of arousal, even
at the most inopportune times.

Already from the
little contact they’d shared, she proved too much of a distraction. Going out
for an evening, having a fuck, that was certainly beneficial to his overall
well-being and concentration. Keeping a regular mistress with the associated
emotional entanglement was not. It was a wholly draining experience that could
eventually suck a man’s soul dry. And he could allow nothing to divert his
energies or attentions from his work. He couldn't risk indulging his fancy for
her. Hence the clause he had asked Mr. Parker to add at the very last moment.
An afterthought born of sheer self-preservation.

Sweet, giving, lovely
Jeanne. If only he could improve her lot. Then when he thought of her, he could
picture her living in comfort and safety, not huddled in that depressing little
garret. He could regain his former peace.

It was so easy a thing
for him to improve her living situation, to provide the small house and
carriage.

Why wouldn’t Jeanne
just accept what he wanted to give her? It was all to her good and cost her
nothing, for he expected and wanted nothing in return.

Violet’s broad, round
bottom, squirming in his lap, brought his mind somewhat back to the moment. He
should take her upstairs and give her a
thorough
tumbling. He would feel better afterwards, he always did. And then
perhaps he’d even be able to catch a few hours deep slumber.

That was another thing
that Jeanne had done. She’d made it completely impossible for him to sleep. His
dreams were full of memories of her youthful body, her ecstatic cries, her
tight little cunt hugging his cock. Such dreams would leave him aching, unable
to go back to sleep or do anything but wonder what she was doing and if she
were comfortable and safe. The disruption to his concentration was intolerable.

She'd been rather rude
to his man of business.

Would she dare be so
rude to David himself? He’d thought never to see her again but could she so
easily turn down his offer if he visited her, just once, to present his case
personally?

He lifted his glass
and put it to his lips. It was empty, dry. That was a shock. He’d forgotten how
much he’d drank tonight. And this idea to visit her might simply be a very
illogical and emotionally dangerous seed born of intoxication.

She had torn his
heartfelt and generous offer to shreds.

He’d never been dealt
such an insolent blow. His hand tightened on the glass and he set it down.

Slam
!

The violence of the
sound shocked him back into the moment and the woman in his lap startled. “Your
Grace?”

He touched her face,
stroked her cheek in a distracted gesture meant to soothe. But inside, he was
still seething.