The Duke and the Dressmaker (The St. James Series) (13 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Philip strode into his estate, still fuming over Sara Downey. Women were all alike. How dare she turn him down! The door slammed as he made his way to his library, ignoring his servants as he passed. He ran right into his mother.

“Philip, is that you? For heaven’s sake, what is making you carry on so? Must you slam doors?”
The duchess scolded him. “I think you could behave a bit more civilly, my dear.”

“Pardon me, Mother, I
did not mean to startle you. I’m having a bad morning.” As he moved into the breakfast room and sat down with a cup of tea, his mother followed him.

Philip rolled his eyes
. He might as well give in now and let her interrogate him, as she so loved to do.

“How are things with Lady Downey?”
She tipped her head to the side, glancing at him.

“Lady Downey? W
hy would you concern yourself with her?” Sweat broke out on his forehead as he searched his mother’s face.

“Well, I noticed the two of you dancing last night, and she appeared to be upset. Is everything all right with the poor girl?”
Her brow furrowed with concern.

“Lady Downey is fin
e. I escorted her home safely, that is all. You needn’t worry about her.” Philip picked up the newspaper on the table.

“I do worry about that young lady. She is completely alone
, and she is too young to be living as a single. London is not a good place for a woman to be living alone. She has a wonderful business, but she has no one to look after her.”

“Mother, please do not
concern yourself. I am sure you have better places to focus your efforts.” He refused to look his mother in the eye. He did his best to appear disinterested.

Her
eyebrow rose as she tilted her head, peering at him for answers. “You are right, Philip. I am a very busy woman. But I do need to pick up Emma’s gowns later this week. Perhaps you would consider escorting us again?”

“Of course, Mother.
Whatever you say.” He snapped the paper in front of him. “Ah, just a moment, Mother. Did you say busy? Are you busy this week?” He gave his mother a quizzical look.

“Why, yes, I am very busy this week. But I
shall attempt to assist you with whatever you need. What is it?”

“No, I
am curious what tasks you have scheduled for the week. What kind of things will you be busy doing?” He stared up at his mother, attempting to hide his curiosity.

Her
hands fisted at her side in a way he didn’t like. “Philip, you have never asked me such a question before. Why the concern?”

“I am just curious. Would you mind answering the question?”

“Of course not. Let’s see, I have to go to the orphanage on Monday. We have a meeting about renovations, as there are so many children there now. I also need to find more donations of clothing for the little ones. And Tuesday, I must go to the library. Wednesday, I need to visit with your father’s solicitor. He has some questions for me. That may be a good day to visit the modiste. Or perhaps we could do it on Thursday after I interview the new dance instructor for your sister. And of course, I have many things to do with the house. There are some changes in our menus I would like to initiate and…”

“Thank you, Mother.
I see your schedule is full. Aren’t you a bit too busy? Would you not prefer to be sitting at home, just taking care of family business? Did you not enjoy taking care of father?” He was sure he knew what her answer would be, but he asked anyway. Wouldn’t everyone prefer to have little to do?

“Oh,
pah, take care of your father? How boring would that be? I loved your father, Philip, but you cannot spend every minute of every day together. We both agreed that we needed to have some interests that were ours alone. Oh, heavens, we would have made each other miserable.” She shook her head at the thought. “Actually, speaking of menus, perhaps I shall speak to Cook about our dinner tonight. Excuse me, Philip, would you?”

Philip’s lips curved at the edges as
his mother orchestrated a swift departure for the kitchens. He had to admit, she did appear to be active most of the time. Perhaps Sara had a point. She was an intelligent woman. At least, she was far more intelligent than Caroline. Caroline had no other interests. She focused on sex with her husband and on herself. Truth be known, Caroline’s only interest was herself. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized Caroline’s actions toward him were always with a purpose. She always had ulterior motives, jewelry especially.

Perhaps if he allowed Sara to have one interest, she would agree to the arrangement. Briefly, his mind drew him back to a steaming bathtub. His body responded instantly. He found himself rearranging himself in his chair to make room for his erection.
Deuced, did she have to have this effect on him? The sex had been fabulous last night.

His brother, Adam, strolled into the breakfast room.

“What brings you home so early, Philip? Must have been a dem bad evening.” Adam smirked at his brother as he strode to the sideboard. He filled a plate and sat at the table with a smile.

“There was nothing wrong with my evening. In fact, it was one of my more enjoyable evenings of late
,” Philip answered as he sipped his tea, not taking his eyes from the newspaper.

“I would expect it was. My guess is you had a little taste of that delicacy that was here with the broken fingers.
Dem, but she was a sweet thing. If you don’t taste her, I will.”

He
bounded out of his chair in a flash, grabbing his brother by the neck cloth before he slammed him against the wall. The sound of glassware breaking brought his mother running into the room.

“Rot it, Philip, let me go!” Adam squirmed under his grip.

“Philip, stop acting like a madman this instant!” His mother’s voice reached the rafters.

R
ed-faced and furious, he reacted instantly. “If I ever hear you speak of Lady Downey in a disrespectful manner in the future, I promise you, we will finish this outside,” he growled, inches from Adam’s face. “Do you understand me?”

“Philip!”
his mother screamed. “Enough!”

“All
right, I have it. She is yours,” Adam choked out. “I didn’t think you would ever have strong feelings for any female again, or I would have kept my mouth shut. You said you would never care about a woman again after Caroline.” Adam’s face darkened from the pressure his brother held against his windpipe.

Philip
released him and Adam slumped down with his hand on his neck.

His calm demeanor returned, he announced,
“I do not have feelings for her, but I will not tolerate you talking about her as if she were a trollop.”

Adam
ran his hand across his throat before returning to the table. “Dem, but you said she is a widow living alone.”

“That does not mean she
is a trollop!” Philip yelled.

“Somehow, I do not believe most of the females in the
ton
would agree with you. But I will cease.” Adam aimed a mock bow at his brother.

His mother
’s arms folded across her chest. “I have to agree with him, Adam. You are speaking inappropriately of Lady Downey. I will not have that type of talk in this house. Keep it at White’s. I don’t care to hear it.”

“Sorry, Mother, you were not in the room at the time. It was not meant for your ears
,” Adam offered sheepishly.

“Don’t you know yet, young man, that my ears hear everything in this house?” Her finger pointed at him
. “You should remember that. And, Philip, look at the mess you have made. Why, it will take the servants a few hours to clean up after you.”

“Pardon my thoughtlessness, Mother. I will have better control in the future.”
He glared at his brother while he returned to his chair.

Emma burst into the room with a smile on her face
.“Oh my, wasn’t that a wonderful ball last night? Everyone complimented me on my dress. Even Lady Ardleigh thought I was the prettiest girl there. But I could not agree with her. I must say that Lady Downey was the most beautiful. Do you remember her gown, Mother? The color was fabulous on her, and when she was dancing with Philip, the lavender was even more stunning. I also thought Lady Ardleigh’s gown was lovely. But I am not surprised as she told me Lady Downey designed it for her.” Suddenly Emma stopped and glanced around the room. “Oh, goodness. What happened?” she asked innocently.

“
Nothing, child. It was just a minor accident. We will clean it up later. Please be careful of the glass in the corner.” His mother stepped into the hallway. “Celia? Could you clean up this glass when we are all seated? I don’t wish for it to be carried throughout the house.”

Emma
sat down at the table, eyeing her brothers to gauge their temperaments. “What was that loud noise earlier, Mother?”

“Nothing, my dear.
Do not concern yourself,” the duchess said.

“Philip, are you and Lady Downey in a relationship? Is that the correct way to ask, Mother?” Emma blushed as she glanced at her mother.

“No, we are not, Emma.” He hid his face behind the newspaper again.

“Well, Philip, you should hear how all the ladies were talking about the two of you last night. They all think you are in a relationship now. And some of the things they were saying were not polite, if I do say so myself.” Emma’s chin
raised a notch.

He couldn’t stop himself. He
sprang out of his chair, tossing the paper on the table. “That is enough. I will not sit here and listen to any more gossip about me or about Lady Downey. We are not in a relationship, and that is that.” He stalked out the door and down the hallway, heading for the stables. He could hear his mother’s chastisement all the way to the end of the hallway.

“That is exactly why you do not belong at balls yet, young lady. You are too young to understand the meaning of the word ‘discretion’ when you listen. You will not be going again for a
while.”

Philip heard his si
ster’s burst of tears and the sudden pounding of feet back up the stairway.

He sighed, shaking his head. Why were females so difficult?

Chapter Nineteen

Philip propelled himself from the house as quickly as his feet would take him. He needed to get away.
In a matter of days, his whole life became focused on a young woman with chestnut locks. He grabbed his fishing pole and headed out to the lake. Confusion boggled his mind. The only way he could make sense of things was to remove himself to a peaceful environment.

Nothing
soothed him more than his lake. He took off his shirt and settled himself on the dock, his feet hanging off the end. His toy sailboat sat next to him, as it always did. Tired of the direction his life was going, he sighed and cast his line out into the tranquil water. A quiet plop was his only answer as the bait broke through the serenity of the lake.

What was he doing anyway? He had allowed another woman into his heart. It may have been only for a second, but she had grabbed him hard. What a big mistake. He rubbed his eyes with his hands.

Last night had been perfect for him. He’d enjoyed, no, he had treasured every minute they had spent together. Sara was so beautiful she took his breath away. Coming home to her every day in his townhouse had been the perfect solution for him. She would be safe from Stinky, she would not have to work anymore, and he would make wild passionate love to her every night. He would even pay off her husband’s gambling debts. What more could she want? Miranda had begged to stay in his townhouse.

Of course,
Sara was right about one thing: he could never allow her to see his mother or Emma again. He briefly squirmed on the dock. In order to be assured of her safety, it was the only solution. She had to get away from her shop.

He had to be sure she was safe. The thought of Stinky or any other man touching her made him furious. His actions today told him how much he was losing control. That frightened him. He had slammed his brother against the wall in their estate, broken glassware and then exploded a
t his sister. When was the last time he had lost control like that? Never, at least not since the day Caroline had left him, and he had never taken that rejection out on his own siblings. Poor Emma, she just didn’t understand what adult relationships were about. He hadn’t intended for her to be chastised over his inadequacies. He would apologize to her later.

More important, h
e did not like the direction his feelings were going. He was caught again and he swore he would never allow it to happen. If he could just get her to stay at his townhouse, he would tire of her just as he did all the other women. Yes, a few passionate nights with Sara would be just what he needed, then he would tire of her, and he could end it. He just had to get her into his townhouse for a few weeks. That would solve everything.

But how?
He would have to work on this. He would think of something.

***

When Sara arrived home, she was still seething. Her hands shook as she tried to fit the key in the lock. Once inside, she closed the front blinds and locked the door behind her. She searched her shop, making sure she was alone. She had plenty of sewing to do, so she chugged upstairs to change her clothing.

As she sat at her sewing table, her mind ran over the events of last night. How could she
believe she was in love with such a man? True, the lovemaking had been wonderful, but maybe that was how it was with most couples. Maybe the relationship she had with Duncan was the strange one. Would she feel the same in another man’s arms?

Perhaps not most men, but there
had to be another man she could care for who did not want to turn her into a strumpet. Even if she was now a widow, she still deserved respect, didn’t she? How could he even think such a thing? How could he think she would just move in there, close her shop, and be there for him to have sex whenever he wanted?

Of course,
her marriage had been almost the same thing. The only thing Duncan had wanted from her was her father’s money and sex. The sex had been rare and totally different than last night. Duncan was only interested in his own needs. She had not realized women could derive pleasure from the act as well as men.

At least the
duke had taught her that. She now had some standards to compare men. In fact, since she was a little more knowledgeable about sex, she didn’t think she would ever marry again unless she was intimate with the man first. Being in a marriage like her first one would never happen to her again.

A noise sounded outside her back door. She jumped, but realized it was an animal of some sort. She shook her head.
Perhaps it was foolish not to consider Philip’s offer. Living with the duke would have its advantages in one way: Stinky would no longer be a threat. He would not dare to come to the duke’s townhouse after her. She would be safe. The nightmares would stop. Last night, she had slept so soundly she had not moved all night. Rarely did she ever sleep in such a way. Ever since Stinky entered her life, she couldn’t sleep at all unless she was completely exhausted and then only for a few hours at a time.

Was she out of her mind?
A duke, no, the Duke of Brentwood, wanted her. How could that be possible? She hadn’t even known him a month ago. When else would she have someone so high in the realm interested in her? Perhaps she had made a mistake this morning. Maybe she should have given Philip’s offer some thought. Wouldn’t it be worth it to no longer have to worry about Stinky? Nor would she have to worry about money either. She loved her business, but the part she loved was the design of the gowns and choosing the fabric and the accessories. Truth was the sewing could become drudgery after a while. Sara tried to flex her broken finger. It was improving, but what would it be next time? Living with Philip would get rid of it all—the pain, the fear, and the insomnia. Perhaps she had rushed her decision.

Of course, if she made that choice, she would no longer be able to visit with his mother or his sister. What about Phoebe
? Would her friend turn her back on her if she was a mistress to Philip? She did enjoy talking to the duke. The intimacy was certainly extraordinary. Would it be enough for her?

She just wasn’t sure. It made sense to move in with him. He was
correct in his assessment of the situation. She would not be the only widow in London having an affair with a man. But could she look herself in the mirror every day? What would Mary think? Or worse, what would her mother and father think of her? Even though they were both dead, she hoped to meet up with them in heaven some day.

Since she was an only child, both parents had fussed over her. Her mother had been so patient with her when she taught
Sara how to sew at such a young age. Mama had always given her a hug when she completed her task. She recalled the look on her father’s face whenever she had worked diligently at her chores. His eyes had glowed, crinkling at the edges before he would give her a small pat on her shoulder. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.” She could hear his soft voice meant for her ears only.

What would they think of her
if she moved in with the duke?

The tears finally came.

***

A few days later,
Sara cleaned in the front room when the tinkling of her bell rang out. She turned to see the duchess and Emma enter with the duke directly behind them.

“Good morn,
Your Grace. How may I help you?” Sara gave a deep curtsy as she smiled brightly. Even though her stomach was full of butterflies at the sight of Philip, she vowed not to give in to her feelings. “Good morning to you, Lady Downey.” The duchess smiled as she advanced toward her. “We are here to see if you have any of Emma’s gowns ready. She is in need of one or two of her walking dresses.”

“Why, yes,
Your Grace, I just finished two yesterday.”

“Goodness, my dear, how do you do so much in a day?” Mary asked.

“Oh, it was nothing. I enjoy sewing. It relaxes me.” Sara peeked over Mary’s shoulder to search out the duke’s demeanor. Blast it, did he have to be so devastatingly handsome? His dark hair curled just briefly at his neck. She longed to run her fingers through those locks the way she had the other night. However, when she gazed into his eyes, the stark coldness had returned. The warmth so evident in them when she was in his townhouse had disappeared.

She
dipped her head to hide her blush. To prevent feeling any more awkward, she quickly turned away, saying to the St. James women, “Follow me, please. I will gather your gowns from the other room.”

So
now she was privy to how the world worked, she thought. Sweet smiles, warm caresses, soft words until you get the act done. Then everything returns to as it was before. Why did that upset her? Did she think the man would stroll up and kiss her in front of his mother? No, of course not, but at least he could have smiled at her. His face was grim as ever. She hated the ice he could put in those blue eyes. He just confirmed she had made the right choice. If this was how he would treat her after making love to her, she did not want any part of this relationship. Finally, he’d made the decision for her. She helped Emma into one of her gowns.

***

Philip paced in the front room. He was glad Sara took his mother and sister to the other room. Bloody hell, but the woman made him hard instantly. He had to think of Caroline to get himself back under control. As soon as he stared into Sara’s green eyes, he had pictured them lost in ecstasy. Damnation, but they had been fabulous together. He pulled on his cravat. He was not expecting to have this response. His desire for her should be lessening, not increasing. Why did she have such a profound effect on him?

“Lady Downey, the gowns are absolutely fetching. Thank you so much for y
our hard work,” his mother said as she returned to the front room.

“I especially love the
pale blue gown. The pastel ribbons across the skirt are beautiful. I have never seen anything so clever!” Emma remarked. “Oh, Your Grace, wait until you see the designs Lady Downey has made just for me. I do not ever want to go to another dressmaker. She is by far the most talented. I am sure you agree with me, don’t you, Mother?”

“Yes, dear, please
cease babbling.” Mary ushered her daughter to the door. “Philip, we will be outside in the carriage. Please take care of everything for me, won’t you? Thank you again, Sara.” She nodded to Sara as she exited the shop.

Philip paid Sara what he owed her for the gowns. His fingers brushed hers and her hand jerked back as if she
were burned.

He gazed into her eyes.
“I did not think you minded my touch, Sara.” His voice was husky, his words soft. Close enough to take in her scent, his mind reeled with all the sensations one breath brought him. He thought of how wonderful she had tasted, about how good they had been together. He wanted her again. No, he
had
to have her again.

Her cheeks flushed as her eyes
lowered. “I did not mind your touch the other night, Your Grace, but things have changed.” She brushed a stray hair away from her face.

Philip reached for her face,
eager to stroke his fingers across her cheek, but stopped. “Have you given my proposal any more thought? It does not have to be this way. You know we are fantastic together. Come to my townhouse tonight.” He ached to run his hands down her arms again before reaching up to cup her breasts.

Sara stepped back. She
looked up at him then glanced away. “I am sorry, but I cannot do that. Thank you for your kind offer, but I think it best that I stay here.” She swallowed as her hand fisted in her dress.

“Sara, you are
not safe here.” His voice rose. He needed her. What would he have to say to convince her? Didn’t she understand that? She stood close enough that he could reach out and pull her into his chest. He needed to touch her, taste her. Propriety held him back—propriety and his mother and sister watching their every move through the window.

“I cannot do it. I need to stay here and finish my work.”
Playing with a thimble, Sara added in a whisper, “I do not wish to lose my self-respect.”

“What are you
saying, I am not good enough for you?” He became angry. How dare she! How dare she insult him by turning him down. He had been sure once she had a chance to think the situation over that she would change her mind. He knew the night had been exhausting for her. When she was able to think objectively, he was sure she would agree to the arrangement. But he was wrong.

She refus
ed him again. No one refused the Duke of Brentwood. He stepped back and placed his hands in his pockets. “Ah, the little modiste is above me, is that it, Sara? Are you daring to look down your nose at me? Do you forget your station? You should be doing whatever I ask you to do. That is your station. But you forget that?”

He stared at her quivering chin
as the tears gathered in her lashes.

When had he ever thrown his nobility at anyone?
But he could not help himself. He seethed with fury at her for not doing what he wanted—and now at himself for acting the way he did. Since when did he talk about stations? The woman drove him mad. His hand tugged at his cuff before he turned on his heel and slammed the door on his way out.

What in hell had he just done?