What the Duke Desires (8 page)

He had reported to his father on his marks in school here and received high praise that had warmed him to his very toes. Later, he and his father had debated politics, opening his eyes to a whole new world of responsibility. And finally, he had begun his education on the finer points of being a duke and all that came along with that exalted title.

He shook off the recollections with an affectionate smile. At present, he was supposed to be beginning the methodical search through his father’s papers and personal effects. Instead, he stared out the window at the dark gardens outside and his mind wandered again. Only this time, he thought of soft lips and quiet sighs.

“There you are,” Rhys said as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. His friend waited there, arms folded, as he stared across the chamber at Simon.

Simon sighed. He had guessed Rhys would find him. His friend had kept his questions to himself when Simon returned to the ballroom after his meeting with Lillian, but that had been a temporary respite only. Now it seemed to be time to pay the piper.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Simon asked. “Either by yourself…or down the hall with Anne?”

He said the last to raise Rhys’s ire. His friend was so fastidious about propriety, Simon sometimes wondered if the “happy” couple had so much as kissed.

“You will not sway me, even by insulting my fiancée’s honor,” his friend said, though his jaw twitched as he came forward. “I want to know what happened on the terrace tonight when you pursued Miss Mayhew. You were alone for a while, and when you came back inside you were never quite the same. And the girl disappeared entirely.”

Simon shrugged as he pushed out of the chair and paced the room. He raked a hand over his face before he responded.

“What do you want me to say, Waverly? That I find myself wildly attracted to a woman you think is entirely unsuitable for me? A woman my mother apparently abhors, not that I put much stock in her judgment. Do you want me to tell you that I found Lillian on the terrace and kissed her until I almost couldn’t breathe? That I could think of nothing but putting her against the wall, hitching up her skirts, and rutting with her there and then? Would those things make you feel superior to me?”

Rhys moved closer and there was genuine concern on his friend’s face. The sight of it made Simon regret his harsh, accusatory words. A snob Rhys might be, but he was an intensely loyal one. He had never once taken pleasure in Simon’s pain, and it was unfair to think he ever would.

“You are truly enamored of this girl, aren’t you? It is more than a way to upset your mother or thwart Society. You genuinely desire her.” Rhys’s tone was filled with shock.

Simon nodded once. He could deny none of those things.

Rhys pinched his temples with his fingertips. “So you are determined to ruin yourself?”

Simon shook his head. “I don’t know that I’d go so far as to say I’m ruining myself. It isn’t as if I’m in love with the girl. I feel a strange and powerful attraction to her. And I admit I am interested in her. By her.”

Rhys looked at Simon, and there was a hint of relief to his friend’s expression. “Then perhaps there is still hope. You have said that Miss Mayhew continues to be resistant to your attempts to court her.”

Simon nodded. “She continually brings up her inappropriateness, rather like you and my mother do, actually.”

His friend’s brow wrinkled as if in surprise. “Perhaps the young lady is more honorable than I gave her credit for. Honestly, Simon, think of what you are doing. Let us say that you did pursue your interest and somehow ended up leg-shackled to this person.”

Simon flinched. “I had not thought that far ahead, Waverly. I have an interest, but I’m not
marrying
the girl.”

“Please.” Rhys shook his head. “Since you have taken on the title, the urgency for you to wed has increased considerably. You know your duty. Therefore, any woman you have an ‘interest’ in must be considered as a potential bride.”

“Then this is a hypothetical,” Simon mused, though he found he could easily conjure an image of Lillian taking such a permanent role in his life. Strange, since he hadn’t known her long and was merely compelled to determine more about her. And perhaps engage in a few more of those passionate kisses that so moved him.

Rhys shrugged, and the motion made Simon refocus on his friend. “Yes. I simply wish for you to see where this ‘interest’ could lead if you take it to its end.”

“And that is marriage…” Simon tilted his head. “Or ‘leg-shackling’ as you so romantically put it.”

His friend ignored his barb. “What if you
did
thwart all reason and marry Lillian Mayhew? If you won’t take yourself into consideration, will you at least see what that would do to her?”

Simon tilted his head. “What do you mean? She would be a duchess, married into an important and respected family. It could only increase her standing.”

Rhys laughed humorlessly. “As your wife, yes, Lillian would be invited, even ‘accepted’ by Society on the surface, but do you really think people would forget about her family?”

Simon thought briefly about the judgmental matrons of the
ton
. They could be sweet on the surface even as they drove a knife into another’s back. He had certainly noticed their shunning of certain ladies and acceptance of others, sometimes on what seemed like a whim.

Rhys shook his head. “They would not. They would watch her constantly, judge her every mistake with a harshness that would be far worse than now. Perhaps
that
is the cause for Miss Mayhew’s resistance. She might not wish to be exposed to such a future.”

Simon paced away as he thought of Lillian’s words to him in the garden earlier in the day. She had said something about not expecting marriage, perhaps ever. That memory lent credence to Rhys’s words. She had been so upset by his mother’s censure, and though she tried to hide it, the barbs of others obviously hurt her more than she showed.

If that were the case, if Rhys was correct that Lillian did not wish a marriage to a man whose elevated status would expose her to such pain and difficulty, that would explain Lillian’s behavior toward him since her arrival. She was attracted to him, of that Simon was certain, but she pushed him away because she didn’t want the disapproval that would surely come with courting him properly and eventually becoming his wife.

“And I know you think me an elitist, but you must consider the way a marriage to this woman would reflect on
you
, as well,” Rhys continued, this time softer.

Simon spun on him. “You know I don’t care about that.”

“But you
do
care about how your father is remembered. I know you do. When they say ‘Duke of Billingham,’ do you not want them to think of his works in the House of Lords, of his goodness, of his honor?”

With a shake of his head, Simon said, “Nothing could change that!”

“A marriage to Lillian Mayhew might,” Rhys insisted, like a dog with a bone he refused to release until he had sucked all the marrow from it. “If you marry this woman, when your name is spoken people will think of a duchess with no true connection and a potential suicide. You can shoot me every sour look you possess, but you know that to be true.”

Simon flinched. There was no denying what Rhys said, even as he fought to find a way.

“Yes,” he finally admitted softly. “I suppose all that could come to be. But what do you suggest, Waverly? She is the first woman I have been truly taken with in so long that I cannot recall the last. Do you suggest I throw that away just to protect my family’s name? Or to keep her from an uncomfortable future? We are not at the point where I am asking for her hand, or even seriously considering such a thing. Should I ignore all attraction and interest just in case marriage
did
become the ultimate end to our affiliation?”

Rhys shifted, and his expression was suddenly pinched and ill at ease. “Neither of us is a rake, my friend. We do not brag on our conquests, nor have we ever talked coarsely about whatever pleasures we found with women. However, I’ve been thinking that perhaps the reason you are so drawn to this woman is that it has been a long time since you kept a mistress. The pain of your father’s death, the pressure to marry well, the responsibilities you now shoulder…they could be eased by, well, an affair.”

Simon could not help but stare at his friend in surprise. Rhys was right that they had not spoken so candidly about sex since they were green lads.

“And what do you suggest?”

“Miss Mayhew has long been on the shelf,” his friend said with an uncomfortable sigh. “She must know that a good match at this late date and with her history is unlikely, especially if she is resistant to your formal attentions. But perhaps she would be less unwilling if you suggested she become…your mistress.”

Simon backed away a step in utter shock. “You are saying I should ask a
lady
, an innocent, to come to my bed as my plaything?”

“It is not such a bad life, Billingham,” Rhys said, raising his hands in a shrug. “Many a lady in her circumstance has chosen it and been content. You could provide her with a living, a small home in London, nice clothing. If you were discreet, it wouldn’t damage her standing any more than her family connections already have. And when you were finished with her you would settle her well, ensuring her future in a way her father and brother did not.”

Simon continued to stare, slack jawed, at Rhys. He never would have imagined his straitlaced friend suggesting such a shocking thing. But he could see Waverly did not mean it cruelly or coldly. He was truly trying to find a way that Simon could have what he desired without compromising himself. In some way, it was his friend’s awkward attempt at a…
gift
.

“You say the girl responds to your touch,” Rhys continued. “This seems like a way to have what you want without ruining your future, or making hers unbearable.”

Simon moved to the window and stared out into the night. He wanted his friend’s words to be distasteful, but in reality they made sense. It
was
one solution to his current problem. And perhaps Rhys was correct. Perhaps this was a better answer for both him and Lillian. Certainly the idea of having her, pleasing her, was far from distasteful. In fact, it made his cock ache.

But that wasn’t the kind of gentleman he was. In the end, he had been raised with too many scruples.

“She is a lady,” he murmured. “No matter the other circumstances of her life. I cannot do such a thing, Rhys. Even if what you say is true, that we could not happily be together in any other way, I couldn’t ask her to lower herself in such a fashion.”

Rhys dipped his chin, but did not seem to be surprised. “If I overstepped with my suggestion, I apologize.”

“No apologies,” Simon said, still staring at the darkness outside and wishing he could stop thinking about Lillian Mayhew as his lover.

“You know I only have your best interests at heart.” Rhys sighed. “I hate to see you pacing the boards long into the night, worrying yourself about a girl.”

Simon turned and speared his friend with a look. He was just as happy to escape the awkward subject of his love life and move on to something he felt comfortable hearing Rhys’s opinion about.

“Actually, it is more than the girl that has me pacing the boards.”

His friend’s eyebrows lifted, and there must have been something in Simon’s expression that said this was a deeper conversation, for Rhys sank down into the chair across from Simon’s desk. He dug around in the piles of paperwork for the cigar box Simon’s father had buried there. He removed two and held one out to Simon.

With a sigh, Simon took it and returned to his place at the desk.

“So tell me what troubles you,” Rhys asked as he lit the cigar.

Simon motioned around the room. “This duty, this place. This title and all that comes with it. Being here makes my father all the larger and his legacy all the greater.”

Rhys nodded, and Simon knew his friend understood him perfectly. It had been only a few years since Rhys inherited his own dukedom. The transition hadn’t been easy for him, either.

Simon sighed. “Not to mention the chore of going through my father’s things. He kept such detailed and mishandled records that they overwhelm. I have much to sort through and collect before I leave here for London. And with this blasted house party, I must steal time when I can.”

Rhys looked around the cluttered office with a wince. “Yes. It is quite a substantial undertaking. But if I can help, I’ll do all I can. On either this score…or with Miss Mayhew.”

Simon smiled at the honesty in his friend’s tone. In the end, Rhys’s pretentiousness only stretched so far. Simon had no doubt his friend would stand beside him, whatever he decided to do.

“Thank you, Rhys. I realize how much it pains you to make me that offer.”

“Eh,” his friend said as he ground out the stub of his cigar in an ashtray and moved it far from the old paperwork. “In the end, who you chase after is your business.”