How to Lose a Duke in Ten Days (9 page)

Pippa swallowed, moved by his words. No one had ever seen her as anything other than a tradesman’s daughter. Even her father, as much as he loved her, only saw her as a pawn in his own game—a chance, at last, to belong to society’s upper crust. Aside from Charles, no one had ever valued her for
who
she was.

Lucas thought she was valuable. Or was it just part of this ruse between them? 

“I’m curious,” Pippa said. “Why do you insist on marrying me, of all people?”

The question had plagued her for days, swirling in her mind like a top. Perhaps if she knew why, then all of this would start making sense. She could begin piecing his true motives together.  

“We’ve already discussed my reasoning,” he said.

He hated explaining himself, she was learning. He barked out commands and expected anyone within hearing distance to obey without question. The world was his lapdog—poised to fetch and beg at his whim. 

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “‘Because I wish it’ is
not
a reason. It’s dismissive. What’s the real reason? I’m privy to that much, aren’t I?”

“I’m twenty-seven, Miss Welby. I’m in need of an heir, a legacy, and I find the ladies in my circle tedious and dull. You are young, intelligent, and I’m drawn to you. The match would benefit us both.”

Pippa swallowed. “Surely there are more beneficial alliances. There are any number of heiresses in London with larger inheritances than mine.”

His lips tilted up into a smile. That look always left her feeling slightly breathless, as though all the air had been flushed from her lungs. She struggled to draw in a breath. He was beautiful—far too beautiful for his own good, or hers.

She had the good sense to realize she was in trouble—knee-deep in it, in fact—but powerless to do anything about it. If he kissed her now, in front of the entire theater, she wasn’t sure she was fit to stop him.

“Or perhaps I just wish to own you—every inch of your flesh, every enticing curve of your body. Perhaps I just wish to lose myself in your insolent beauty.”  His voice was low, just above a whisper. “Perhaps I just want
you,
Pippa.”

For the first time in her life, she was stunned silent.
Insolent beauty.
Heat slithered through her veins like venom—treacherous and corrosive. He wanted
her
. There was a good chance what he said was a lie—hadn’t he just admitted everything he did was a means to an end? Still, the words trickled through her, warm and bewitching.

What was it about this man that tempted her so completely? She wanted nothing to do with him. He was a snobbish cur who didn’t merit a sliver of her time, and yet she was drawn to him in a way she couldn’t even begin to understand.

“You’re insufferable.”

“So you are eager to remind me at every turn.”

“What do you want from me, Your Grace? The truth this time.”

He was close, so close she could feel the heat of his body, smell the subtle cologne that clung to his skin. It was a spicy, heady scent that sent tingles sweeping through her.

His deep blue eyes pierced her. “I want everything from you.”

Pippa swallowed, feeling suddenly out of her depth.

With just a look, this man could unravel her, make her crave things she had no business craving. His lips, for instance. They were full, perfectly shaped, and she knew from experience that they tasted delicious.

He seemed to read her thoughts. Leaning down, he placed his mouth next to hers, instantly sweeping her up into a hot, urgent kiss that took her breath away.  

His hand found her breast through her gown and squeezed gently, making her gasp. She didn’t pull away. She should have, it would have been the proper thing to do, especially here in such a public setting.

She couldn’t.

She was wicked, depraved, and in that moment, she didn’t care. Not even a little.

His mouth felt heavenly. He tasted spicy and heady, completely male, and her entire body lit like a fuse. Heat washed over her, sending tingles coursing through her body. Her nipples beaded under the pressure of his palm, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer bliss of it.

Kissing her deeply, he bit her bottom lip. Pleasure collided with pain, and she responded by biting him back. He growled, low in his throat, and for the first time in her life, she wanted to give a man everything.

Hidden in the shadows of his box, he groped at her, his hands everywhere, molding to the curves of her body through the fabric of her dress.

“I want to tear this gown from your body, taste every inch of you,” he whispered into her ear.

“Yes,” she responded, breathless.

Everywhere he touched, her body hummed with energy, a bright, iridescent ball of light that reached into every dark corner of her spirit.

He nipped at the underside of her chin, “You are
mine,
Pippa, remember that.”

His words swirled around her, settled, before finally taking hold.
Mine
.

Her eyes snapped open and she shoved at his shoulders. “Wait, no,” she whispered, panicked. “No, no.”

Good heavens, what was she doing? This was likely his plan—to kiss her in public, so if they were caught, she would have no choice but to marry him. No doubt he had someone posted at the door, poised to swoop in at any moment and expose them. 

Pushing away from him, she straightened her bodice and attempted to regain her composure. Her cheeks were flushed, she knew, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

“That was a despicable trick. I would have thought you above such machinations.”

He pulled back, his face half-covered by shadow. His expression was indiscernible. “The rules of fair play do not apply in love and seduction, my dear.”

Pippa pursed her lips at the slightly altered quote from John Lyly's
Euphues
. “Is that what this is? Seduction?”

“I do relish the chase,” he said, his lips upturned.

She nearly scoffed. He found this all so amusing. It was infuriating.

When she made no response, he reached out and brushed a finger along her bottom lip, still staring into her eyes. “I must leave Town for a day or two. Promise me you’ll behave while I’m away.”

A wave of disappointment washed over her, and she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. Surely she wouldn’t miss his demanding notes, or his rude, flirtatious comments, or the subtle way he smiled to himself when he thought no one was looking. Surely a lonely ache wouldn’t form in her chest the minute he left. 

Indeed, if she felt
any
disappointment, it was for all the lost opportunities to drive him away. That was certainly it.

“If you require anything, you need only tell my steward. He will see that you are attended.”

Anything?
Surely he wouldn’t be so foolish
.
“And if I require a ruby necklace or a pair of diamond earrings?” 

He shrugged. “Whatever you wish, it’s yours.”

Deplorable.

If he thought he could purchase her compliance with rubies and diamonds, then he had quite another thing coming. She would not be so easily persuaded.

“I see the wheels in your head turning, little dove, but you are wasting your efforts. You will be mine one way or another. You may as well get comfortable with the idea.”

The certainty in his tone nettled her. But of course he had every reason to believe she would surrender to his advances eventually. Hadn’t she just kissed him? It was only a matter of time, and they both knew it. 

“The man is
insufferable,
” Pippa said, storming in on Charles. He was in his studio, as usual, a nude statue of Venus positioned directly in front of his painting easel, a white cloth draped over one flawless marble shoulder. “I positively, absolutely,
cannot
be in his presence again! He offered me
diamonds
. Can you believe that? Diamonds. He said whatever I wish shall be mine.”

“He sounds like an absolute cad,” Charles said dryly. “However do you tolerate his boorishness?”

“It’s not generosity,” she huffed. “He aims to
lure
me with his wealth. It’s appalling.”  

It’d been a full twelve hours since Pippa had seen Lucas last, and she was still reeling from that kiss at the theater. Her blood still burned, and she still felt that clawing, incessant need for…
something
.

He was doing this intentionally—trying to seduce her into compliance. And what was worse, it was working.  She was so weak when it came to him—resolved to push him away one minute, melting into his kisses the next. She was hopeless.

All morning, she’d paced her bedroom, thinking about that kiss, about the way he looked into her eyes, about the way her heart had flipped when he’d defended her against Mrs. Wayland. 

It was all just a ruse on his part, she was sure of it. It had to be. His ruthlessness was legendary, for heaven’s sake. If there was any civility on his end, it was part of a plot to soften her toward him. No one in the peerage could be trusted, least of all him.

And yet, at the theater, she’d seen a side of him that had warmed her.

Charles didn’t take his eyes off the canvas. “So am I to understand it
isn’t
going well?”

“To say the very least.” She plopped down into one of the blue, velvet-covered chairs to his right. “I kissed him again. Or rather, he kissed me. Or…I’m not quite certain. It all happened so quickly.”

He was so close to the canvas, his nose was practically touching it. “Did you enjoy it?”

The memory of Arlington’s hands on her, his hot, searing lips pressed to hers, had sent heat rushing through her body. To say she’d merely
enjoyed
it would be understating it by miles.  

“Whether I enjoyed it or not is of absolutely no consequence.”

Charles glanced over his shoulder at her. “You’re avoiding the question, which means
yes,
you enjoyed it—and quite exceptionally, too, if your blush is any indication. And it most certainly is. Good God, woman, you look half besotted already.”

If there was one detriment to having a lifelong friend, it was that he could read her like the morning newssheet, as easily as if her emotions were printed in black lettering across her forehead.

“I’m
not
besotted. The very idea is ridiculous.” But even as the words emerged, she knew they were a lie.

Charles turned to her, one side of his mouth tilted up into an amused half-smile.  “Pip, there’s no harm in sampling what the duke has to offer.”

Pippa glared at him flatly. No harm? She almost laughed. “You must be joking. Next you’ll be telling me there is no harm in playing pall-mall with a hornet’s nest for a ball.”

He ignored her comment. “So long as you’re discreet, I don’t see why you shouldn’t have a little fun.”

“Are you suggesting I allow myself to be ruined by him?”  

Charles frowned. “I wouldn’t quite go
that
far, Pip, but you could test the waters, so to speak. See if you and he are well attuned to each other. You might actually find you like him.”

Pippa pursed her lips. “Whose side are you on, exactly? Mine or his?”   

“Yours, always. But you should know what you’re giving up before you chase him off. That’s the only advice I’m offering.”  

“You weren’t saying that five days ago when we were devising a plan to get rid of him.”  

“That was before I suspected you might truly esteem him. I see the look on your face, Pip. You can’t deceive me. I’ve known you for far too long.”

Ha!
Esteem
a cold, deliciously handsome duke? The very idea!

She huffed. “You’re wrong. It would never work between us.” 

Charles shrugged and turned back to his painting. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” 

*   *   *

Three days later, Lucas returned to London, satisfied with the progress of his latest project. Miss Welby would be pleased with it, and that thought filled him with unexpected anticipation. He could hardly wait to see her face light up at the sight of it—and just
one
smile, however slight, would be reward enough for the expense.

As he climbed out of the carriage and headed toward the steps, the front door swung open to reveal Benson. He stood at the threshold, his posture rigid, a distinct look of fear etched into his stern features. This couldn’t be good. The last time he’d seen true fear on Benson’s face, Lucas had been forced to bury two parents. 

He bounded up the steps, and before Benson could greet him, Lucas spoke. “What is it?”

Was something amiss with his sister? He didn’t wait for Benson’s answer. Fear knotted in his stomach as he brushed past the butler and stormed into the house. “Where is Evelyn?”

Benson was right behind him. “The parlor, Your Grace.”

That’s when he heard it.

Not the silence he was accustomed to hearing when he returned home, but the fanatic barking of several animals—
dogs,
to be precise—coming from the direction of the closed parlor doors to his left.

Storming across the entryway, he threw open the double doors, and stopped short. “What in God’s name?"

At least a dozen dogs of various breeds roamed restlessly inside his parlor. As soon as he walked into the room, they swarmed him, barking and panting vivaciously, their tails whipping about violently. Several of them jumped up on him, while others swept past, intent on making a quick escape.

“Lucas!” Evelyn chided. “You’ve let them out! It’s going to take hours to round them all up again.”

He turned and watched as the creatures spilled out of the room. He made no move to stop them, too confused to make top or bottom of the situation. 

“What the hell is all this?” He rarely cursed in front of his sister, but if there was ever a time that warranted such harsh language, this was it.  

Evelyn marched toward the door and blew out a frustrated breath. “Don’t ask me! People have been knocking on the door in a near constant stream—all with dogs that have gone astray from their owners or been abandoned. Poor Benson just sits by the door now, waiting for the next caller. He doesn’t even bother retiring to his room.”