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Authors: Jenna Petersen

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BOOK: What the Duke Desires
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H
ello Lillian,” Simon said after she had been silent for far too long.
She blinked. This was a dream, it had to be. Simon couldn’t be here.

He cocked his head. “Are you going to say something?”

Shaking away her shock, Lillian stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind her, hoping the servants would take that as a sign that she wasn’t to be interrupted.

“Simon,” she breathed, savoring the sound of his name. She had never thought to say it to him again. “What are you doing here?”

“In London?” he asked, cool and nonchalant, as if they were no more than old acquaintances who had bumped into each other on the street and talked out of mere politeness. “Rhys and Anne marry tomorrow. I’m standing up for him in the church.”

Her heart skipped and she cursed herself. Some tiny part of her had secretly hoped he’d come for her, but of course that was foolish.

“Yes, I had forgotten,” she said, motioning to the chairs. He didn’t take one, so she remained standing as well. “Please wish them well for me, if you think they’d like to hear it.”

“I shall.” He arched a brow. “There are trunks in the hallway. Is the family going somewhere?”

“No.” Lillian looked away. “I am. Gabriela’s father, Lord Watsenvale, has arranged for a governess position for me. I depart for Scotland almost this moment.”

He moved forward. “Scotland?” he burst out, his tone revealing his feelings on the matter.

“It’s better this way, Simon,” she said with a shrug of one shoulder. “And it should cheer you. If you came here to ensure I wouldn’t speak of the things I know, now you can be happy. I won’t be in London to do any damage. And I wouldn’t, even if I was going to stay.”

“I didn’t come to London for Rhys’s wedding,” he blurted out, and suddenly he was coming across the room in long strides that closed the gap between them in a matter of seconds.

She gasped as he stopped just inches before her, filling her senses with his scent, his heat, his presence. How she wanted to reach for him, to touch him, to ask how he was adjusting to all he had been given and told.

But she resisted.

“I came for you,” he finished. “I came here for my fiancée.”

She opened her mouth in shock at his ardor. It was unexpected, and she wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I-I am not your fiancée,” she finally said, hating how her tone was small and plaintive. She didn’t want him to be obligated to marry her and regret it for the rest of his life. “We talked about this.”


You
talked,” he argued. “And I was too stunned by all I had uncovered about my father, about you, to answer. But I
never
agreed to end our engagement.”

“You must know it is best,” she gasped, utterly shocked by how wild his eyes were.

“It isn’t best,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “It is utterly unreasonable and unfair. And I have enough power to force your hand if I desired to do it.”

She cocked her head in surprise. “Force my hand?”

He nodded. “I could take you to court. Hell, I could drag you to Gretna Green and make you agree. It’s been known to happen.”

Lillian’s eyes widened. She drew a harsh breath before she whispered, “And would you do those things?”

The steel left Simon’s stare as he grasped her upper arms and slid her closer. “Only if I must. I’ve come here to tell you something, to ask you something, and I hope you will listen. Please don’t leave, Lillian. I’m asking you not to leave me.”

Her eyes stung as she looked at him. God, he was temptation.

“I don’t want to,” she admitted on a sob. “You must know how this breaks my heart. But the things I did! You told me you could never trust me again, Simon. And I don’t blame you for that. But that is no way to live a life.”

“Don’t you think I know that, having watched my parents hate each other as long as I can recall?” he said with a bark of unhappy laughter. “But we aren’t them.”

“But—”

He shook his head to cut her off. “Lillian, you lied to me, and I won’t say that didn’t cut me to the bone. I thought you were the only person left I could trust.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“In this past week, I’ve had a lot to consider. I asked myself why the people around me lied to me. Some lied for greed, some out of obligation and fear, others in a misguided attempt to protect me.”

She nodded.

“But you…you didn’t lie to me because of
me
at all, and I found myself understanding your reasons.” He stared directly into her eyes. “My father had a hand in destroying your family in the worst way a man could. I looked at my sister and my brother and I realized that if someone hurt them, I would be ready to do anything to avenge that pain.
Anything
.”

She blinked, surprised by how easily he had summed up her feelings at the beginning of her quest.

“Simon, the fact that you understand my situation means the world to me,” she whispered. “But I still fear that when you look at me, all you’ll see are the lies.”

He touched her face, and she couldn’t keep herself from leaning into his palm with a deep and satisfied sigh of pleasure. It seemed like an eternity since she’d felt his skin on hers, even though it had been only a week.

“I won’t see the lie, Lillian,” he said. “When I look at you, I’ll forever see the hand you placed in mine before we entered my brother’s cottage. I will see your defense of me when we faced my mother afterward. And the smile I so wished to coax from your lips. I’ll see the way you sigh when I kiss the slope of your neck. Those things mean more to me than the other.”

“Simon—” she breathed.

He cupped her face gently in both hands. “I don’t want the deceit that brought me…brought
us
to this place to define me. I will not allow it to define us.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. How could she deny him when he offered her forgiveness and love and acceptance? How could she turn away from the one man who had seen his way past all the obstacles between them and somehow loved her regardless?

“So what do we do?” she whispered.

“We swear to be honest from now on.” He stepped back and held out a hand to her. “Good afternoon, Miss Mayhew. My name is Henry Ives, although you can never call me anything but Simon Crathorne, twelfth Duke of Billingham. I’m forced to live out the life of a man who cannot be anything more than a child. And that is an honor as much as a curse.”

Lillian held back a sob as she took the hand he offered.

“I thought I knew my father,” he continued, his voice dropping with emotion. “But in reality he was a stranger. And I have at least two more half brothers who he abandoned. I have vowed to find and reunite them.”

She squeezed his hand. “That is a great deal to handle.”

“Not if I have a partner.” He smiled. “Lillian, I don’t know who I am anymore. In fact, the only thing I know for certain is that I love you. And I can’t delve into my foggy past or face my future without you.”

Lillian swiped at her tears and then smiled shakily. “Hello, Your Grace. I’m Lillian Mayhew. My mother was a sad and troubled woman who your father took advantage of. She killed herself, and it was so easy to blame that entirely on him. I wanted to destroy him and I admit I would have settled for destroying you…until I met you and experienced your honor and your love.” She moved closer. “And I do love you, Simon. With all my heart.”

He dropped to his knee before her, and she gasped.

“Then marry me. And we’ll face whatever comes next together. Please, Lillian. I want you and I
need
you by my side.”

Her hands shook as she dropped down to her own knees before him. She cupped his cheeks tenderly and stared into those shocking jade eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I would be honored to be your bride.”

He didn’t answer in words, but by dipping his head to hers and kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him as the kiss deepened, expressing all the powerful emotions, all the love they felt for each other. In that moment she knew they could overcome anything. Everything.

When they finally broke apart, Simon smiled. “With you by my side, I shall become the man I
am
, not the boy taken from his mother. Not the lie my father created for his own greed.”

She nodded. “We’ll change together.”

“Forever,” he promised, and his lips met hers again.

One Week Later
T
he solicitor was American and nervous as he bustled around the untidy office, digging for paperwork. Simon shifted and glared at the man until he felt Lillian’s gentle hand on his knee.
He looked at her with his first smile that day. “Thank you for coming with me. I know it isn’t much of a wedding trip.”

She nodded. “I don’t need a wedding trip, love. Only you.”

He returned his attention to the shuffling man. He wasn’t the solicitor his father had named in his paperwork, but a relative who had taken over the business.

“Ah, here it is. I’m surprised this still exists, the work my uncle did for your father was so long ago,” the little man said, turning with a thick file in hand.

“Thank you,” Simon said, and then stared at the man.

He shifted and finally said, “Well, I shall, er, leave you to look at that. I’ll return shortly.”

After he was gone, Lillian smiled at Simon. “I think he’ll never recover from the scorn of such a powerful man.”

Simon stared at the file in his hand. “I didn’t want him here while I read it.”

“Don’t forget, dearest, it might not contain the names of the other brothers,” she said softly. “But we’ll keep searching until we know them all.”

He nodded and slowly flipped the file cover back.

Some of the scrawls were his father’s, others were unknown, probably the old solicitor who had made arrangements for him. Simon scanned through the names, the figures, the particulars with a growing sense of urgency.

Lillian was reading over his shoulder. “It looks like this file only details one of the other brothers.”

He nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. My father wouldn’t want one person lording over all his secrets. He probably used a very long string of well-bribed people to take care of his ‘unsavory business,’ as he calls it here.”

“As of yet, I do not see a name for the child,” Lillian said with a sigh.

He flipped to the end of the pile of paperwork, filled with frustration, but just as he was about to close the file and give up, his gaze caught something in the text. He read it once, twice, rubbed his eyes and read it a third time.

“Lillian,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper. “Do you see that?”

She swallowed and met his stare. “Yes. It says that the woman your father sired a son with was the Duchess of Waverly. Rhys’s mother. Does…does he have a brother?”

Simon shook his head as he read the name again. “No,” he finally whispered. “Only the sisters you met at the wedding. If this is true, and by the date I have no reason to believe it is not, then that means…” He hesitated, almost unable to speak this unfathomable thing. “That means Rhys is my brother.”

A series of images filled his mind. Of how his father had first discouraged him from making a friendship with Rhys. He pictured the duke watching the two boys playing. He’d never made an effort to talk with Rhys, as he had Simon’s other boyhood friends.

Perhaps he had done that because Rhys was his son. A fearful and physical reminder that the duke was not the man he pretended to be.

“Simon,” Lillian breathed, gripping his arm. “What will you do?”

He looked at her. “It seems Rhys and I will have to have a talk when he returns from his holiday with Anne.” He looked back down at the paper again and stared. “Everyone should know who they really are. I just hope my friend will be able to stand the truth.”

He closed the file and tucked it beneath his arm. He had no intention of leaving such volatile information with a scatterbrained solicitor like this one. He helped Lillian to her feet, and they turned to leave the office together.

“Simon,” she said, as he helped her into their carriage a few moments later and settled in beside her. “Whatever happens, whatever this brings, I hope you know I do love you.”

He looked down at her, still amazed that just a look, a touch, from her could soothe even the most desperate of pains. He smiled.

“That means the world to me, Lillian. And with you by my side, I know I can face anything.” He looked out at the busy London streets. “Even this.”

Two of JENNA PETERSEN’s childhood dreams were to be a ballerina and a baseball player. Those didn’t work out, but she’s pleased to be following another childhood dream, writing books for a living. And what better than romance, where dreams come true on every page? Jenna lives in central Illinois with her high school sweetheart husband and two taskmaster cats. She loves to hear from readers. Her website is
www.jennapetersen.com.

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BOOK: What the Duke Desires
3.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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