The Duke (39 page)

“You were going to throw me out the night before last. That’s what I don’t like about this, I’ve no security.”

“Ahh, now I understand,” he whispered, staring into her eyes. “Security.”

“Yes. You can toss me out on the street whenever I begin to bore you.”

“What would make you feel secure enough to believe that I will never toss you out into the street? Perhaps this.” He reached over to the side table by her bed and picked up the crushed flask, which he had placed there earlier upon undressing. He handed it to her. “Here’s your proof, love.”

She took it and stared at it as she turned it this way and that, studying it. He watched her profile, saw her eyes fill with tears.

“You could have died for me,” she whispered.

“Yes. And I would do it again to protect you if there were ever a need. Gladly.”

She turned to him without a word and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. He slipped his hands around her waist and heard her sniffle, felt her tears drop onto his bare shoulder.

“I had no right to doubt you. You’re such a strong man and you’re so patient with me—you don’t deserve all this suspicion. I’m sorry, Robert. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful. I’m not used to this, I guess, but I think—I’m going to trust you now.”

“Now that’s good news to start this day,” he whispered, catching her tear as it broke and careened down her creamy cheek. It sparkled on his fingertip like a jewel in the morning light. The ice is melting, he thought. He brought his fingertip to his lips and tasted the salt of her tear as her expression turned wistful and still, then, slowly, he leaned toward her and kissed her.

With a soft, needy groan, she parted her lips for him. He tasted her mouth in a tender, searching kiss that silently pledged everything within himself, a kiss that sent radiant illumination into the farthest, darkest reaches of the universe, as though a new celestial star were being born from their love.

She lay back in soft yielding. He moved atop her; she wrapped her long legs around his hips. He closed his eyes more tightly, dizzy with need, but ended the kiss when he felt the flames of temptation begin to sweep over him through the urgent contact of their bodies.

Now that he understood the invisible scars she bore in the very heart of her femininity, he knew to treat her with a lover’s most exquisite gentleness. The time was not yet ripe, but soon it would be.

A splendid idea came to him. He bent his head to kiss her neck and came up smiling with his brilliant inspiration. “Rest, Miss Hamilton. I have something wonderful in store for you tonight.”

“What could be more wonderful than this?” she murmured, gazing up at him with a dazzling, dreamy gaze.

He twined a length of her golden hair around his finger and kissed it. “You’ll see.” Then he kissed her eyelids and ordered her in a whisper to sleep.

Later that day Robert busied himself at his desk in the library, dispatching notice of his departure to his country house to the chairmen of his various Parliamentary committees, drawing up instructions to his gentleman of business, and seeing to various other details while Bel readied the household to repair to the country. She was briskly going from room to room on the first floor, helping the maids drape the furniture in brown holland for the duration of the master’s absence, when she crossed the entrance hall and happened to intercept the hall porter on his way to give Walsh a letter that had just come by special messenger for His Grace. The butler would then do the honors of delivering it upon a silver tray to the duke, but Bel brushed off the formalities of procedure, smiled at the hall porter and whisked off to deliver the missive to Robert herself. It was as good an excuse as any to look in on him. Glancing down at the letter, she frowned to read it had been posted in Islington, then turned it over to see that the return address was Mrs. Hall’s Academy for Young Ladies.

For a moment she hesitated just outside the library door. What could it mean? Some new attack upon her character? But Lady Jacinda was still at school there. Maybe it had nothing do with her. Suddenly fearing that something was wrong or that Jacinda had fallen ill, Bel strode into the library, crossed to Robert’s desk and tossed the letter before him, leaning across to kiss his forehead.

“You might want to give this your immediate attention. It just arrived by messenger.”

“Lord, what now?” He picked it up and slit the seal.

Bel moved back and waited anxiously for the news. Robert’s stern face darkened as he read, then he crumpled the letter in his hand.

“What is it?” she asked quickly.

“I am advised that my sister is being suspended from school for speaking to a strange man in public. A man by the name of Dolph Breckinridge.” He threw the balled paper with a low oath.

Bel covered her mouth in shock. “How could he dare—?”

“No doubt he thought to strike at me through her. Thank God Lizzie Carlisle was on hand to keep a shred of sense in my sister’s head.”

“He didn’t hurt her—”

“No, thank God. Lizzie called for the schoolmistress directly. Apparently Breckinridge had been trying to lure my sister into his carriage.”

For a moment Bel was silent and sickened with shock. If Dolph had done anything to that innocent child because of her—the thought was too terrible.

“I’m afraid my sister and her lady’s companion are just going to have to come to the Hall with us,” he said, resting his fists on the desk. “I hope you don’t mind, though
I
sure as hell do. Playing the chaperon was hardly what I’d had in mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind, Robert, but what of the girls’ reputations? Perhaps I shouldn’t come.” She held her breath and braced for disappointment.

“Don’t be absurd. You’re the reason
I’m
going.” He scratched his square jaw in thought. “If you have no objection, we could simply pass you off as their governess. Nobody knows you up north.”

“Another charade?” She sighed wearily. “Jacinda will know there’s something naughty going on. She’s too clever for us even to
try
to hide the truth from her.”

“Then she’s just going to have to be an adult about it. She’s very grown up, in her way.”

“Lizzie will be scandalized. By the by, I didn’t realize you were familiar with Miss Carlisle. What a dear, shy, unassuming girl.”

“She’s my ward.”

“She is?” Bel exclaimed. “Goodness, Robert, is anyone in London not under your keeping?”

“Miss Carlisle is the daughter of my former estate manager. The man died a decade ago and Lizzie was his only child, with no relatives to turn to. She has been Jacinda’s companion since they were very small—not to mention the little hoyden’s conscience. Thank God she was there when Dolph attempted to introduce himself.”

Bel shook her head, clasping her hands behind her back.

“I feel responsible for this. When I think of what could have happened, what he could have done to her—”

“Belinda,” he cut her off softly. “Don’t. It accomplishes nothing and no harm was done. Put it out of your mind. Now, run along. I’ve got a lot of work to finish before it’s time for your surprise.”

Bel smiled shyly at him, feeling her heart soar. He sent her a sardonic little smile and picked up his quill pen to write his answer to Mrs. Hall.

They left Knight House at eight o’clock that evening.

Robert had advised her to dress with particular formality, but gave her no hint of where he was taking her. In the town coach he pulled down the canvas shades to keep her from guessing their destination.

Her anticipation climbed when she felt the coach glide to a halt and heard the footmen leap down, coming to open the doors.

“Close your eyes, lovely. Your surprise is at hand.”

“But I can’t bear to, when you look so handsome.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” he drawled.

Laughing, she obeyed, but his stunning image was imprinted on her mind. Robert had donned richer finery than she had ever seen him wear, foregoing, for once, his gloomy black in favor of a dark plum-colored tailcoat of velvet, gorgeously embroidered down the front. It had a stand collar that pressed the tips of his gleaming white shirt collar against his jaw just so. His white silk cravat was a work of intricate perfection, while his satin waistcoat was sprinkled with small paisleys in a muted gold tone— reserved and terribly fashionable. His fawn-colored breeches molded every line of his powerful thighs, while his flawless white silk stockings accented his excellently muscled calves. He was virile male beauty incarnate, right down to his low-heeled black pumps with their small flat bow. For all the care that had gone into his attire tonight, somehow she wanted nothing so much as to begin undressing the delicious man at the first opportunity.

“I can’t stand it,” she exclaimed, squeezing his hand with her eyes pressed tightly closed. “Where are we?”

“You’ll see,” he teased. “No peeking.”

She heard the carriage door as it swept open and a metallic clank as the footman pulled down the step. Robert took her gloved hand in his, got out first, and guided her to the step of the coach.

“Smells like horses,” she declared, wrinkling her nose.

“All right,” he said. “You can look.”

Slowly she lifted her lashes. Robert stood to the side, beaming at her and supporting her by her hand as the footmen waited at attention.

Bel’s stare climbed up the long, plain, dignified building before her. Recognizing it, her jaw dropped.

“
Almack’s
,” she breathed.

He grinned. “Surprise.”

Almack’s Assembly Rooms!
Her fond girlhood dream come true! But she snapped her mouth shut and turned to him in fright. “I can’t go in there! I’ll be hissed out of Town!”

“By whom?” he asked softly, his boyish smile full of mischief. His dark eyes twinkled. “We have the place to ourselves.”

She stared at him in shock. “You rented Almack’s for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“The whole thing?”

“Even the orchestra.”

“Oh,
Hawkscliffe!”
She launched herself off of the coach step into his arms.

A manly blush crept into his cheeks as he kissed her, laughing, and set her down on her feet.

“No one has ever done anything so thoughtful for me in my whole life! Oh, but this is terrible extravagance—”

“You’re worth it.” He swept a gesture toward the double doors, a world of tenderness in his eyes that did not match the wry, worldly twist of his mouth. “Go have a look.”

With a shocked laugh full of outrageous glee, she dashed ahead of him, disappearing inside. Chuckling, he followed.

“Oh, Robert, it’s ...
Almack’s”
she said in hushed awe as he joined her, for she had gotten no farther than the entrance hall. She stood staring reverently at the towering grand staircase that led up to the assembly rooms.

She longed to go up, but she felt like a trespasser on hallowed ground. She could almost hear the Patronesses’ hissing their disapproval. When Robert walked over and stood next to her, she turned to him in distress.

“I don’t belong here.”

He said nothing, but smiled chidingly and offered her his arm. Taking courage from his calm steady strength, she slowly rested her hand on his arm, then he escorted her up the famous staircase where, for the twelve Wednesday nights of the Season, only those of the most pristine reputation and most graceful refinement were admitted.

She felt him watching her fondly as she marveled at every trifling detail, though Almack’s simple elegance was no match for the opulent grandeur of Knight House. There was a vestibule at the top of the staircase; on either side of it were card rooms that Robert told her were also used for suppers and banquets, but straight ahead lay the holy of holies—the ballroom.

Nearly breathless with amazement, Bel walked in and stared all about her. The ballroom appeared about a hundred feet long and half that width, with a flat white ceiling that soared thirty feet above them. A cream-colored frieze, much gilded, circled the room; below it were pale celadon green walls and enormous arched windows, regularly spaced. The moldings and carvings all were in white, medallions and festoons. There were benches against every wall, and an elevated bandstand at one end with a gilded latticework. Her eyes widened as she noticed the musicians waiting politely, standing at her entrance.

Bel nodded to them uncertainly. “Good evening.”

“Good evening, miss,” said the conductor with a genial bow. “Is there anything in particular that the young lady would care to hear?”

“W-whatever you usually play, thank you.” She turned to Robert in amazement as the gentlemen of the orchestra sat down and picked up their instruments.

He smiled as their charming divertimento spilled through the ballroom.

She walked into the center of the ballroom and laughed aloud, twirling this way and that, merely trying to take it all in. There were dazzling mirrors and glittering chandeliers and two life-sized classical gods holding candelabra.

“I can’t believe you did this for me. Robert, it is the most wonderful gift!”