The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) (18 page)

Crumpets!

She didn’t wish to ruin the moment, but couldn’t help herself. She raised on her tiptoes and touched her lips to his again. Lightly.

He responded with a low, feral growl, taking control of what had started as a simple kiss. He deepened it, teased her lips open with his tongue, and plunged in, each thrust of his tongue powerful and at the same time gentle. Each thrust commanding and at the same time protective. Suddenly, no one existed for her but Ian. No one mattered more to her than Ian. He knew just how to coax the breathy moans out of her, and knew how to ease the pressure of his lips at just the right moment, knew how to heighten that pressure again for exquisite effect. Yet, it wasn’t his mastery that made the kiss so spectacular. It was him.

She was mindless and out of control, but so was he. He was allowing himself to lose control. He was trusting her.
Trusting her.
Now that was something special.

Then he did something even more special. When he ended the kiss—because she wasn’t going to be the one to pull away, ever—he kept his arms around her and simply hugged her. A long, gentle hug that felt pure and innocent. Well, not quite innocent. Ian was far too handsome, far too dangerous, far too experienced ever to be considered innocent. The hug was pure and heartfelt.

That was it. Heartfelt.

And anyone who knew Ian knew that he always hid what was in his heart. But not this time. Not with this kiss. Tears welled in her eyes. She began to sniffle. Ian sighed. “What’s wrong, Daffy?”

He eased her away slightly to look at her. And he’d called her Daffy, which was his way of closing himself off again. She wasn’t ready for that yet. “Nothing.”

“Then why the tears?”

She sighed. “The kiss rattled me, if you must know. It was the best kiss ever.”

He chuckled. “Ever?”

“Yes, in the entire universe of kisses. In every kiss that has occurred since the dawn of man’s existence,” she insisted. “It was the best.”

She expected Ian to dismiss the remark as ridiculous. After all, she had been a little theatrical about it. Quite over the top about it, truth be told. He knew that she’d never been kissed by anyone else. So how would she know if someone else was better at it than he was? She couldn’t compare him to anyone else.
Ugh!
Why had she mentioned the dawn of man’s existence? She could have kept the time period shorter. Best since last week. Best kiss since the start of the season.

His gaze turned tender. “Yes, it was. Best ever.”

And that was the problem with Ian. He kept saying nice things to her and making her feel as though he meant them. He wasn’t safe for her. She had to tell him to stop.

She would tell him. Soon.

Just not yet.

***

“Ian, there you are,” Gabriel said, striding into the club room at White’s later that evening. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Heard you came around to see me earlier today. Why didn’t you wait?”

Ian set down his newspaper and motioned for the bartender to send over two glasses of whiskey. “Problem got solved. Didn’t need to disturb you. Where were you, anyway? I thought you’d be home.”

Gabriel shot him a smug grin and settled into the overstuffed leather chair beside him. “I was upstairs, about to come down when Daisy delayed me.” His grin broadened. “She needed my help to change out of her morning gown. Couldn’t manage those pesky buttons on her own. I’m ever the obliging husband.”

Ian winced. “You ass. I don’t want to hear about how you undressed your wife.”

“Fine. Then I won’t tell you the rest of what I did to her.”

Ian let out a laughing groan. “Get out.” He took the two drinks off the butler’s tray and held Gabriel’s out of his reach. “All this talk of marital bliss is making my ears bleed.”

“Never realized you were so delicate. Just like a woman. Not as soft or pretty though.”

“Weren’t you just leaving?”

“You had better not swoon. I’m not going to catch you.” Gabriel grabbed the glass out of his hand, and though he was still grinning, Ian saw the concern in Gabriel’s eyes as he settled back in his chair. “What’s troubling you?”

Ian took a sip of his drink. Nice. Smooth. “As I said. No longer a problem.”

Gabriel’s expression revealed his doubt. “So from the time you arrived at my home until the time you left, let’s say that was about fifteen minutes, you worked it all out?”

Ian nodded.
Damn
. He knew what was coming next.

“Interesting.” Gabriel leaned forward. “Did Dillie have anything to do with fixing your problem?”

Everything.
“No.”

“Because she and that adorable rabble of Farthingale cousins were at my house when you arrived.”

“They could hardly be overlooked.” He and Dillie had never figured out what substance Harry had managed to stick on his hands. Their only clue was that it wouldn’t wipe off Dillie’s gown. “Dillie was playing the piano. The children were jumping up and down, doing their best to smash holes in your expensive floor with their little feet.”

Gabriel threw his head back and laughed. “So that was the pounding noise I heard downstairs. I wondered what that was about. Wasn’t going to run downstairs though. I had my own pounding—”

“Stop! You’re roiling my stomach. No man should lust after his own wife the way you do.”

“Actually, I was talking about my armoire. I was repairing the spindle leg that had loosened on it.” He was still grinning like a hyena. “Want to know how that leg got loose? It happened last night. Daisy—”

“You’re still a monumental ass. Stop talking about how often you make love to your wife. Or where. Or how. Breaking furniture while you’re in the ‘throes’ doesn’t earn you any points.”

“Daisy seems to think it does.” He took a gulp of his whiskey and set it down quickly. “I know. I know. I’ll stop talking about her. Let’s work on fixing your problem.”

Ian stifled a groan. “You’re not listening to me. There is no problem.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Gabriel shot him that well-meaning
we’re more than friends,
we’re brothers
look. “I know you, Ian. You’re hurting.”

“Wrong again. I’m feeling fine.” But his hand was clenched around his whiskey glass, which was probably a hint that things weren’t as smooth as he wanted them to appear.

“Now who’s acting like an ass?” Gabriel leaned back, the gesture significant. He was assuring Ian that he wouldn’t dig too hard to get at the information he sought.

Ian liked that about Gabriel. He knew how to be a friend. They’d remained close even after Napoleon’s war. Gabriel was always there to support him, but respectful of his need for privacy. “It wasn’t just Dillie,” Ian admitted, “but the cheerful chaos that was going on around her. That’s what solved the problem.” His smile turned humorless. “I’d just come from my beloved mother’s house. We had another of our warm and cozy chats. You know how it is with me and my family. They’re always so loving. Fairly suffocate me with their tender care.”

Gabriel wasn’t smiling either. “Bloody hell. I’m sorry, Ian.”

“Don’t be. I’m used to it. Or thought I was. Sometimes they get to me. Sometimes their foul taint crawls under my skin.” He took another sip of his whiskey, and then let out a bitter laugh. “I was feeling that way until I walked into your house. The children ran to me and hugged me. Dillie smiled when she saw me, a happy sort of smile that reached into her eyes.”

“Yes, the Farthingale smile. And those incredible Farthingale blue eyes. They suck you right in, don’t they? Next thing you know, you’re drowning in those magnificent blue pools. Same thing happened to me when I first met Daisy. I remember how you’d warned me not to walk down Chipping Way if I wished to remain a carefree bachelor.”

Ian nodded.

“You were going on about the Farthingale daughters and the Chipping Way curse. I thought you were attics-to-let, but Lord, you were right. Thank goodness. I’ve never been happier.” Gabriel leaned forward again. “If Dillie’s smile slams into you the way Daisy’s smile slammed into me, then let nature take its course. Let it happen, Ian. You won’t regret it.”

But Dillie would. Every damn day of her life.

SEVERAL WEEKS HAD PASSED
since Lady Withnall had practically stopped Dillie’s heart in the Farthingale kitchen by revealing she knew Ian had spent a week in her bed. In truth, Dillie had been on edge ever since, dreading the day the axe would fall, though Ian had assured her that it wouldn’t.

She knew it was inevitable, for the gossip was too juicy to remain a secret. Yet Dillie was stunned when her so-called loss of innocence finally did happen. After all these weeks, she had almost been lulled into believing Ian’s assessment had been right.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

The evening had started out harmlessly enough. She’d just descended from the Farthingale carriage with several members of her family on a beautiful April evening, preparing to attend Lord and Lady Cummerfield’s ball. She was rather proud of the way she looked. Her gown was a simple, white silk concoction, the sort appropriate for an unmarried young woman attending a fashionable ball.

Madame de Bressard had outdone herself. London’s most popular modiste had fit the gown to her perfectly, the smooth fabric draping over her curves so that each fold and sway fell in a way that flattered her body. The feisty Frenchwoman had designed gowns for her and her sisters as each had made their entrance into society. The gowns were exquisite, but her prices were exorbitant.

Dillie wore the Farthingale pearl necklace around her throat, and more pearls had been wound into her stylish chignon, enhancing the dark sheen of her hair. Again simple, yet elegant.

Her mother commented favorably on Lord and Lady Cummerfield’s exquisite Belgravia home, and Dillie quite agreed. The residence was charming, a large townhouse painted in cheerful yellow with white trim around the windows and doors.

Then the heavens came crashing down atop her.

While standing in line, waiting to be introduced, the gaudily gowned and indiscreet Lady Bascom leaned over to her companion, Lady Aldritch, and whispered rather loudly, “Edgeware came to her each night!”

At first, Dillie thought she was commenting on one of Ian’s new conquests, which would explain why she hadn’t seen him in weeks. The kiss they’d shared in Daisy’s music room must not have been as satisfying for him as it had been for her, though he’d politely agreed it had been at the time.

She stifled her disappointment. Ian wasn’t going to change his rakehell ways. He was a confirmed ne’er-do-well. Perhaps it was for the best that he’d moved on to someone else, for she had grown to like him more than was safe. Good Ian, that is.

She’d seen a lot of Good Ian lately.

But he also had a wicked side, the rakish part of him that used women and discarded them without a second thought. She’d momentarily forgotten that side of his nature, the dissolute, confirmed bachelor who wasn’t going to change his ways for any woman.

“For an entire week!” Lady Aldritch confirmed. “Right under our very noses.”

“Right under her family’s very noses,” Lady Bascom corrected with a cold laugh. “Not one of them realized he was sneaking onto Chipping Way each night.”

What?

Dillie heard a startled buzz behind her.
Oh, crumpets!
Her family must have heard every word, for Lady Bascom was never one for discretion. She could not have whispered louder had she shouted the news from the ramparts.

Dillie turned toward the buzz and groaned. Every blessed Farthingale in existence happened to be standing behind her. Well, perhaps not all five thousand of them, but certainly a good twenty or thirty.

She prayed for Lady Bascom to be struck mute.

Apparently, not hard enough, for Lady Bascom continued, her voice resounding as clearly as a church bell. “Who would have guessed? The Duke of Edgeware and Dillie Farthingale.”

Lady Aldritch expressed shock and embellished the rumor by adding a trellis outside her window that had never existed. “I must say, I was surprised. She didn’t strike me as the sort the duke would notice. She’s a quiet girl.”

“Isn’t it always the quiet ones?” Lady Bascom replied. “She was doomed to scandal the day her parents named her Daffodil. It’s an impertinent flower, if you ask me. Not easily controlled. And it wasn’t a trellis. I heard the duke climbed a tree to reach her bedchamber. That’s why her father had the thing cut down. Too late, of course. He ought to have thought of it sooner.”

Dillie stepped forward to glower at both ladies. “What utter rubbish! Nothing of the sort happened. Who told you this malicious drivel?”

Both women paled.

“Who?” she demanded when they seemed to have lost their tongues. Her hands curled into fists, and she must have appeared ready to do them bodily harm, for they both gasped and scurried off as though she’d just drawn a pistol and threatened to shoot them.

She turned to her parents, expecting to find them as angry and indignant as she was. “It must have been Lady Withnall who started the disgusting rumor. I’ll speak to her and...”

Her mother had tears in her eyes. “It won’t do any good, Dillie. The damage has been done.”

“No,” she said, emitting a mirthless laugh. “It’s all been a terrible mistake. I can fix this.” She waited for her family to agree. Her sisters and their husbands were standing right behind her. Thank goodness. She could rely on her sisters for support. But a glance in their direction revealed that this time, they wouldn’t come to her rescue.

“I can fix this,” she insisted, and she would as soon as she stopped shaking. Anger. Fear. Dread. Defiance. All these sensations clashed within her body. She felt helpless and utterly out of control.

She’d also felt helpless and out of control whenever Ian kissed her, but it wasn’t at all the same thing. Ian’s kisses made her feel good. Right now, she felt nauseated. Her head began to spin.

Her father was looking at her as though she had just died. So was Uncle George.

Her brothers-in-law exchanged glances with each other.