The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables Book 2) (34 page)

The feelings of anticipation and excitement that he’d felt before his first ascension were there, but strikingly diminished in comparison. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go up. It was that there were matters holding him down.

He’d done an excellent job of drinking himself into oblivion the night before last. So much so, that he’d spent most of yesterday cursing his very existence. Last night he’d found sleep, but he’d also dreamed. Vividly.

Erotic encounters, and every single one of them with Lucy. Until the darkness had crept in and served him another nightmare. It had been different, however. He typically saw each of his family die as he stood there, helpless and alone, the hollowness inside of him growing with each death until he was certain it must swallow him whole.

Instead, he’d seen Lucy. She was sick, and he’d held her hand while life slipped from her body. He’d woken in a cold sweat, a desperate fear gripping him and leaving him breathless. Despite the horror of it, he hadn’t felt as terrified as after his other nightmares. He’d pondered it for a great while—it wasn’t as if he’d been able to sleep again.

The only conclusion he’d reached was that Lucy was still alive. Whereas he’d always come out of the nightmares about his family knowing they were lost to him forever, Lucy was still here. She was still a dream that could come true. If he let himself pursue it.

That meant confronting his fear and acknowledging the fact that he
could
lose her. There were no promises in life, save those they made to each other.

He thought of the promises he’d made to Bertie. Before he’d died, he’d sworn to protect him, and he’d failed. Afterwards, in more recent years, he’d promised Bertie that he would fly for him. Today was about that—flying for Bertie. Carrying out the promise he’d made and doing the only thing he could for his long-dead brother.

But what of the living?
 

He thought of Charles, who was on his way to northern England. He’d written Andrew a letter thanking him for his kindness and generosity. He’d said,
“You saved my life, and not just because you prevented Gin Jimmy from killing me.”

Andrew had understood. He hadn’t saved Bertie, but maybe, just maybe, he’d lived so that he could save Charles.

He also thought of Tindall and his mother, who’d made a full recovery. Tindall credited Andrew’s intervention, thanking him for his kindness and his generosity. He’d said,
“You saved her life—I believe that.”

For the first time, Andrew had been grateful that he’d survived, instead of feeling guilty.

Which in turn made him feel less guilty for being glad that he hadn’t died. Since he’d met Lucy, he’d begun to think of a future of love and contentment—a future he hadn’t thought he deserved or wanted. To admit that he wanted to live—to love—somehow seemed to dishonor his family. But that was foolish. His mother, his father, and especially Bertie would want him to be happy.

“Are you ready?” Sadler asked, his dark gray brows arching high on his forehead beneath the brim of his hat.

Andrew looked at the balloon and saw Bertie’s face. The sound of the crowd faded, and in his mind, he heard the voice of his brother, clear again as if Bertie was beside him. He told him to go—but not into the air.

Angling toward Sadler, Andrew shook his head. “No. I’m not going. My apologies. I need to do something.”

Sadler looked surprised. “If you’re certain. There won’t be another chance. At least not with me.”

Andrew knew that. Sadler was past sixty now, and didn’t ascend as often as he used to. His sons, however, went up, and Andrew could probably go with one of them. He didn’t think that he would.

“I know.” He clasped Sadler’s hand and shook it firmly. “I thank you. You’ve given me the experience of a lifetime. And prompted me to pursue the adventure I really want.”

Lucy.
She would be his greatest risk, and his most fulfilling reward.
If
she accepted him. He’d botched things quite badly and wouldn’t be surprised if she refused him completely.

He stepped away from the balloon and started into the crowd. Beaumont stood near the front. He grabbed Andrew’s arm as he went past. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you going up?”

Andrew shook his head amidst the cacophony of noise around them. “No. Why don’t you go?” He grinned at his friend and clapped him on the shoulder. Yes, they were friends. “See you later.”

As he picked his way through the throng, the anticipation and excitement that he
should
have felt about parachuting coursed through him, driving him to move more urgently. He couldn’t wait to get to Lucy.

The crowd surged, and the noise grew. He turned his head and saw the balloon ascend. His task became harder as he now sought to go against the wave of the throng. They moved forward as he tried to reach the back.

Finally, he broke free and stopped dead in his tracks. Standing there, with her head tipped back, staring at the sky, was Lucy.
 

He strode toward her and saw the look of anguish on her face. “Lucy!” he called and started to run.

Her two friends stood on either side of her, but he barely registered them. She lowered her head, and her gaze found his just before he came to a stop in front of her.

He worked to catch his breath but decided he didn’t need to. She made his heart race and his chest constrict, and he prayed he felt that way for the rest of their—hopefully, very long—lives.

“Andrew.”

“Lucy.” He cupped her face, eager to kiss her, heedless of anyone who might see. “If you tell me to go, I will, but I want to stay. With you. Forever.”

She reached under his arms and clutched his back. “Kiss me.”

He claimed her mouth and kissed her fiercely. That she kissed him back with equal fervor heated his body and fired his soul. He pulled his lips from hers but didn’t move away. “I love you, Lucy. I was an idiot.”

“Yes, you were. But I understand why.”

Now he pulled back and looked at her in wonder. “You do?”

She nodded. “I think so. You’re still deeply wounded by your family’s death. And,
I think
, you’re scared to allow yourself to love anyone.”
 

He stared at her in wonder. “How is it you understand me so completely?”

“Because for a long time I felt the same way. I was afraid I’d marry someone like my father, so I thought it was best to not marry at all.” She touched his face, her gloved fingers running over his temples and caressing his jaw. “I was so afraid you’d gone up in the balloon. Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t need to. I wanted to fly—for my brother—but I think he’d understand that I want you more. I’ve spent over half my life running from ghosts and protecting myself from a hurt that you can’t really escape. Loving someone is accepting that you might lose them. I don’t ever want to lose you, Lucy, but that’s a risk I have to take.”

She smiled at him, her eyes full of love. At least he thought they were full of love. She hadn’t said it. “I’m so glad. I came here to convince you that you should. I’m so glad that you realized you love me. You’ve made my task so much easier. In fact, you’ve saved me from it entirely.”

“Does that mean you love me too?”

She laughed, and the sound was a glorious balm to his wounded soul. “Could you doubt it? I think I started falling in love with you the minute you took me to shoot at Manton’s. How could I not? You’ve always treated me with respect and admiration. No one, especially no man, has ever made me feel so special. So cherished. Of course I love you. With all my heart.”

He kissed her again, holding her close against him.

“The crowd is starting to look,” one of her friends—if he had to guess, he’d wager it was Miss Breckenridge—said urgently.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from Lucy, but he snatched her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “Does this mean you’ll marry me?”

“As soon as possible.”

“I don’t know if I can get a special license, but I’ll do my best.”

She looked at him confidently. “You’re the Duke of Daring. No one expects you to have a conventional wedding.”

He chuckled. “No, I suppose they don’t. But does anyone really call me that besides you three?”

She exchanged looks with her friends, both of whom were smiling, even Miss Breckenridge. “Probably not.”

“Actually, I’m fairly certain Nora does,” Miss Knox said. She looked at Andrew. “The Duchess of Kendal. She’s our mentor. Of sorts.”

“I see.” He saw that the crowd was beginning to dissipate. “Shall we go?”

Lucy took his arm, her eyes shining. “Yes. Let’s go on our next adventure.”

He put his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers. “I can’t wait.”

Epilogue

L
ucy eyed the target, her farthest yet, and steadied her arm before she squeezed the trigger. The ball fired and hit the target square, knocking the block off the post to the ground. She yelped with glee, turning to Andrew, who was grinning at her work.

“You are incredible,” he said, shaking his head. “My turn.”

She stepped to the side as he loaded his pistol on the table. She watched his hands work and wondered if it was odd that she could’ve stood there and stared at him all day.

He lifted the weapon and took aim. His ball hit the target next to the one she’d knocked down, but he only grazed it.

He lowered his arm and let his shoulders slump. “You trounced me again. Clearly it’s the shooter, not the weapon.”

She’d beat him the other day using his Purdey, but today she had her new Manton—his wedding gift to her along with her mother’s jewelry, which he hadn’t sold but had only had appraised so that he could settle on a sum. She grinned at him, unable to contain her joy. “I didn’t win by much.”

He arched a brow at her. “I will demand a rematch.”

Lucy caressed her pistol. “I’ll look forward to it.” She laughed as she set the weapon on the table.

He shook his head again and swooped down to kiss her. “Perhaps I was foolish to marry such a strong woman.”

She pulled back in mock affront. “Perhaps I was the fool if you can’t see how lucky you are.”

He snaked his arms around her and held her against him. “I see quite well, thank you. Although not as well as you if that target is to be believed.”

“Oh, now it’s my eyesight that’s to be given credit?”

“You talk too much,” he growled before kissing her soundly.

Lucy sighed into his mouth, loving this man and feeling luckier than anyone had a right to be.

A fat drop of rain found its way to her cheek, splashing against her and making her jump.

Andrew blinked. “What? I was only teasing.”

She pointed up. “It’s starting to rain.”

He tilted his head back and grabbed her hand. “It’s about to pour, I fear.”
 

She snatched up her pistol, and they took off running for the house. By the time they reached the terrace, they were quite wet but laughing.

Mrs. Alder greeted them, looking in horror as they dripped on the carpet. “Why are you laughing?”

Andrew sent Lucy a provocative glance. “Why not?”

Why not indeed. Lucy’s body heated at the promise in that brief look he’d sent her. “I think I need to go upstairs and change.”

“Yes, me too.” Andrew squeezed her hand as they made to move past Mrs. Alder.

The housekeeper chuckled. “Go on, then.” She smiled to herself and hummed.
 

She and her husband and the rest of the staff had been overjoyed at their marriage a fortnight ago. It had happened quickly after the Duke of Kendal had helped Andrew procure a special license. All their friends had come to their wedding breakfast, but no one had been happier than Grandmama. She’d said she’d always known that Lucy would break the husband curse and marry a man who was both worthy and reliable. That she was also benefiting from Lucy’s match—by way of a lovely town house in the heart of Bath—was an unexpected boon. Lucy was grateful to see Grandmama settled and happy.

Tindall met them as they entered their bedchamber. “My lord, I understand you were caught in a downpour.”

Andrew gestured toward his damp clothing. “Yes, as you can see.”

“I’ll just lay out a fresh set of clothes.” He turned to Lucy. “I believe Judith is already doing the same for you.”