At the Duke’s Pleasure (18 page)

He was right. She wouldn’t be smoking again considering how ill she’d been. Not only had inhaling made her cough hard enough to expel a lung, it had also made her nauseous. Plus she’d never thought she’d get the disgusting taste out of her mouth no matter how much tooth powder and lemon water she’d used.

“But this predilection for racing that you’ve developed has to stop. And in case you’re already busy thinking up ways to get around my decision to end your driving, I would advise against it.”

She crossed her arms over her muslin-covered breasts. “Oh? And what are you going to do about it, if I don’t obey?”

“Nothing to
you
. As for the servants, if any of them help you defy me on this point, they will be sacked on the spot.”

Her lips parted. “But th-that’s horrible. The servants shouldn’t be bartered in this fashion. That’s their livelihood. You can’t turn them out in such a summary fashion.”

“I won’t turn any of them out, so long as you don’t persuade them to disobey my instructions. If anyone loses his or her position, their dismissal will be on your head.”

“Oh!” She huffed out a breath.

That he would even threaten such a thing was monstrous. Then again, perhaps he was only bluffing in hopes of assuring her compliance on this point.
Devil
, she thought. Clearly, he was counting on her being too tenderhearted to test his resolve and find out whether he was serious. He was right though. Her differences were with him alone, and she wouldn’t risk hurting someone else, not even to achieve her freedom.

“I never realized it before, Your Grace, but you are a bully.”

Glancing over, he met her gaze. “If I am, it’s because you have made me one.” His chest rose, then fell again on a sigh. “End this futile campaign of yours, Claire. You’ve more than lived up to your rebellious promise, but it’s not succeeding, nor is it going to. I am not going to jilt you, and all you’re doing is giving yourself a reputation for wildness. Even my irrepressible brother Jack would be awestruck by your audacity, but enough is enough.”

She swallowed, wishing that she
could
end it. What a relief it would be to stop all the games and schemes and be just like any other young woman. But if she gave up now she would have achieved nothing. She would have lost in every conceivable way that mattered.

Her head began shaking before the words had even formed on her tongue. “No, not unless you release me. The choice is up to you.”

Glancing ahead, she realized that their journey was nearly over, Clybourne House rising before them in imposing splendor. Drawing up in front of the residence, Edward stopped the curricle, then turned toward her on the seat.

He met her gaze. “My answer has not changed. It remains no.”

For a long moment, she studied him, considering his utter inflexibility.
Why
, she raged inwardly,
can’t he just let me go? Why does he care, other than his stubborn pride and his endless sense of honor?
If only he felt something deeper for her. If only it wasn’t all just an empty game.

Unable to bear another minute of their latest dispute, she jumped to the ground, not waiting for him to help her alight. Hurrying around the carriage, she took the front stairs in a rustling swirl of skirts, barely acknowledging Croft’s friendly greeting, as the butler opened the door.

Stepping down from the curricle, Edward watched her disappear inside, his jaw stiff as he went to untie his mount from the back of the vehicle. One of the grooms could have handled the matter, but right now he felt like doing it himself. Taking Jupiter’s reins in hand, he patted the horse’s muscled neck and began leading him toward the mews. A groom came to see to the carriage and its team, all of them creating a minor procession of sorts.

Inside the neat, brick-paved stable yard, Edward exchanged hellos with more of the lads, then led his mount toward the stable. Clean and well-tended, the building held nearly two dozen equine occupants. The earthy scents of hay and horseflesh greeted him as he led Jupiter toward his stall. Other horses ambled forward to lean their heads over their stall doors, a few pawing or puffing out sounds of welcome.

The head groom came forward, a smile on his long, middle-aged face. “Here now, Your Grace, I’ll see to him.”

“No need. I shall do it.”

If the other man was surprised, he showed no sign. “As you wish. Let me know if you ’ave need o’ anything, Your Grace. Meanwhile, I’ll send a boy ’round with fresh water. Feed bucket’s already inside.”

“Actually, there is something I want to discuss, but it can wait until after Jupiter is settled.”

Nodding in understanding, the servant gave a smile, then walked away with a loose-limbed gait.

Leading the stallion into his stall, Edward began unsaddling him with a calm, easy familiarity he’d learned as a youth. Tack removed, he took up a currycomb and began to brush, careful to let the horse know what he was doing so the animal wouldn’t spook. Soon the two of them fell into a rhythm.

So she thinks I’m a bully, does she?
he mused, his mouth drawing into a severe line.
If that were true, I’d have done a great deal worse than giving her a scold and forbidding her to drive the curricle again.

Considering her behavior these past four weeks, she’d provided him with ample cause for irritation. More than irritation actually, since most men would have put a harsh and immediate end to her antics. From the talk going ’round, his response was considered extraordinarily tolerant, the betting books rife with wagers about Claire and what outrageous imbroglio she would land herself in next—and how he would react.

Despite her warning to him that night at the ball, he’d had no idea just how far she would be willing to take matters. She’d created more scandal and mayhem than any one small woman ought to be capable of stirring up. But short of locking her in her room or packing her off to the country, there wasn’t a great deal he could do to stop her.

Besides, he’d wanted to give her enough latitude that she would be able to see just how useless her efforts really were. He’d assumed she would make one or two meager attempts, then admit defeat. But there was nothing meager in either her attempts or her resolve, Claire taking both him and the Ton by storm.

She was a clever minx, he’d give her that. And astonishingly bold to boot. How he’d ever gotten the impression that she was demure and biddable, he couldn’t imagine. The woman had a spine of steel and nerves brazen enough to clash with a king.

As fortune would have it, poor mad King George was indisposed at present and the new Prince Regent was too busy planning his gala fête being held at Carlton House next month to pay much heed to Claire. Without question, however, Edward was sure Prinny had heard about “Clybourne’s wild bride-to-be” and no doubt found such stories highly amusing. Edward just hoped the prince didn’t take it into his head to seek Claire out at a ball, or who knew what trouble might unravel from the meeting.

He rolled his eyes at the possibilities, then straightened and reached for another brush. Jupiter shifted, the horse’s muscles rippling with pleasure as Edward resumed the grooming routine.

She’ll concede the fight soon
, Edward told himself,
despite her continued show of defiance this morning.
He’d cut her off from the parks and now her driving. With her movements so restricted, she would have far less opportunity to wage her campaign. But he wished she would relent and accept their engagement, since it was the only prudent course for either of them to take. He didn’t like being at odds with her. He didn’t care for this war with Claire, even if he was confident of coming out the victor.

Blister it, but she’s turning me into a rule-bound prig. Worse, she’s driving me mad.
Half the time he didn’t know whether to paddle her or kiss her, and given that he didn’t hold with administering corporal punishment to women and children, that left the kissing.

Not that he minded—not a bit, he thought, recalling their last heated encounter. Each time he touched her, he wanted her more, desire urging him to cast aside the bounds of propriety and take her.

Restraining himself was becoming increasingly difficult, each passionate encounter going farther and becoming more intimate than the one before. How easy it would be to let matters progress to their full and natural conclusion. She wouldn’t deny him, he knew that much from the way her body turned pliant and needy at his faintest touch. He could have her naked and moaning beneath him with only a few kisses and caresses.

And once he took her, there would be no more talk of ending their engagement, no further outrageous attempts to force him to jilt her. They would marry and that would be that.

But despite all the havoc she was currently wreaking, he didn’t want to trick her into the marriage, didn’t want to steal her innocence and leave her with no choice but to obey. She would hate him for that, and he couldn’t say he would blame her.

No, he would have to be patient awhile longer and let her work this rebellion out of her system. Once she gave up and accepted him, they would wed. That’s when he would begin showing her how groundless her fears had been, how pleasant and pleasurable life would be as his wife—despite having married for duty and convenience.

Until then, he would have to restrain his desire for her, at least as far as claiming her virginity. As he’d already shown her, there were other ways they could enjoy each other. He wasn’t above indulging himself and Claire in that regard, but only as far as his willpower would allow.

He groaned softly at the thought, his loins heavy and aching from his musings. Closing his eyes for a moment, he fought the need, struggling against the urge to go find Claire inside the house, carry her to his bedroom, and ignore every one of his noble intentions.

Instead, he laid the brush aside and reached for the hoof pick, a task that would require his complete attention. Jupiter was an excellent horse, but he was a stallion and his temper needed watching. Even at the best of times, an inattentive man could end up with a kick to the chest or head if he wasn’t careful. What better way to shake off his desire than scraping pebbles and filth out of horse hooves?

Leaning into the task, Edward did just that, using the labor to drive Claire out of his head—for a few minutes at least.

Upstairs in her bedchamber, Claire stood as her maid assisted her into a fresh gown, a short-sleeved day dress of pale yellow silk with an overskirt of translucent white dotted swiss.

Fastening a last row of buttons, the servant stepped back to regard her. “You look a right picture, my lady, if I do say so meself,” she declared with one of her toothy grins.

If only I felt that way
, Claire thought, as she smiled her thanks.

Nearly an hour had passed and she was still stewing over her confrontation with Edward. Not only had he curtailed her right to drive and a great many other freedoms along with it, but it would seem that her efforts still weren’t achieving the desired effect.

Confound it, what do I have to do to make him relent?
More worrisome, what if he was right and there really was nothing she could do to force his hand? But there must be something, and despite any setbacks, she would discover what it was.

Claire was contemplating ways around his edicts, and potential new transgressions she might attempt, when a knock came at the door.

Penny went to answer it, greeting Mallory as she entered the room. Excusing herself, the servant departed, leaving the two of them alone.

“I came to find out if you are ready for our picnic nuncheon,” Mallory said, looking lovely in a gown of light blue sarcenet, a color that made her eyes gleam like jewels.

“I am, as you can see.”

Mallory paused for a moment before continuing. “I also had to find out if the servant gossip is true. Did you really take the curricle out on your own this morning?”

Claire nodded. “I did.”

“And Ned went after you?”

“You certainly are well-informed,” she replied with wry amusement.

Mallory grinned. “You know the staff tell me everything. So, what happened?”

Crossing toward the window, Claire sank into a nearby chair. “The condensed version is that I am officially forbidden to drive anymore.”

Mallory took a seat opposite. “Just for leaving your maid behind?”

“In part, but mostly because I raced Lord Blevins. And won, I’ll have you know.” Leaning back, she crossed her arms. “Edward confiscated my winnings and is returning them to his lordship today, for all the difference that shall make. I am sure if you know the story, half of London will soon as well.”

“
Zounds!
I know you’re trying to get Ned’s attention, but are you still sure this is the best way to go about it? You astonish even me with your bravado, and I was born a Byron!”

Claire smiled, recalling Edward’s remarks about the family penchant for landing themselves in the suds. As for Mallory’s belief that Claire was engaging in various eyebrow-raising peccadilloes in order to draw Edward’s attention…well, the half-truth had seemed the easiest way to explain the situation when Mallory had first quizzed her about her outlandish exploits.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Mallory—she did—but still, Edward was Mallory’s brother, and she didn’t want to put her in the position of having to take sides. Even more, if Claire admitted her real goal, Mallory would have been astute enough to demand to know why. Perhaps it was prideful, but Claire couldn’t bring herself to admit what was truly in her heart. So rather than confide her actual plan, Claire let Mallory believe a modified version of the truth.

“I thought your strategy was half insane from the start,” Mallory told her, not for the first time, “but I must admit that I’ve never seen anyone shake Ned up the way you do. He’s always so coolly reasonable and rational, even when you know he’s furious. But not with you. Around you he acts first and thinks about it afterward. I rather like seeing that collected calm of his rattled up a bit.”