The Perfect Duke (17 page)

“Because . . . I love you. And I wanted to prove that to you before we returned to Belcraven.”

She “loved” him. Joy shone brilliant for a moment, like a star shooting across the heavens, only to return to blackness. Would she still love him if she knew what he’d done? He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Ah, Cara, I don’t deserve to be this happy. I remember that first day I saw you standing on the stair. You made me think of a lost angel who’d fallen from the heavens.”

A small frown crossed her face, then she smiled. “Well, we’ve found each other now.”

“Yes, but how you ever came to care for me is a mystery.” His finger traced intricate patterns around her belly button. “I realize I’m difficult to love.”

“Nonsense, people just don’t understand you.”

“And you do?”

“You have responsibilities and you take them to heart. It’s part of the reason I love you.” She turned on her side and studied his face. “The role of duke isn’t easy, especially if it’s thrust upon you. You hadn’t been raised to the title.”

He turned onto his back. “I’m sure by now you’ve heard stories about Edward.”

“I know he was your older brother and that he died in a boating accident.”

A sigh escaped him and he closed his eyes. “It wasn’t an accident. I wish to God it were.” He rubbed at the scar on his chin. “I killed him.” He turned to Cara, expecting a horrified expression.

She took the hand at his chin and drew it to her breast. “Go on.”

“There’s not much to tell. We knew a storm was brewing and even though Grandfather had forbidden us to use his boat, we took it out anyway.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “We were invincible.”

Anger washed over him at his own arrogance. “If only I’d rechecked the lines. I was so sure the boom had been lashed correctly. I’d done it a thousand times before. We were already far from land when the wind shifted and tore the wood and sail from its position. Edward never even saw the danger. The boom caught him in the back of the head and swept him overboard.”

Cara squeezed his hand. “What did you do?”

“I tried to save him.” He turned to her. “Really, I did. But the wind blew the boom back, just catching my chin as I dove into the water. I must have been disoriented. When I finally reached Edward, he was face down, being tossed about by the waves. I grabbed him, keeping his head above water and swam for the shore. I knew I’d never be able to haul myself back into the boat, let alone him. They found us later that night, the boat had splintered on the rocks.” He tugged his hand from hers and turned toward the sputtering candle on the nearby table. “I should have been the one to die.”

“Why?”

“Because Edward would have known how to be a duke. The Kendal name would never suffer if he’d lived.”

“It hasn’t suffered.”

“I wish you’d been around to tell Grandfather that. According to him, my brother would have made the perfect duke and I was a poor substitute.”

“From what I hear, your grandfather was a mean, bitter old man.”

Garret turned back and took her in his arms. Somehow simply holding her made his burdens lighter. “And what am I but a mean, bitter young man?”

“You’re not.”

“Not with you.” He kissed her forehead. “You saved me from myself. Grandfather’s perception no longer matters.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No. What matters is you.” He rose and crossed to a nearby chair, removing a sheer red scarf that had been draped over the back. “You excelled in proving how much you love me, but I thought we might test that proof again.” He returned to the bed, trailing the filmy material over her breasts and stomach until she grabbed the end of his torture device and hand over hand drew him to her.

This time he took it slow, worshipping her body, discovering the firmness of her breasts and how she responded when he nipped the flesh at the base of her neck, or suckled at her breast through the filmy material. He could no more resist her than the stars could resist being drawn across the heavens as the night progressed. For the first time since the accident, he felt whole.

Garret started awake. What time was it? Exhausted, he retrieved a bunch of grapes from the bowl on the table, returned to the bed, and drew Cara close, surveying the damage. Pillows and clothes were tossed all over the stage, the candles had gutted out, leaving only a few lanterns still burning brightly. He put a grape to Cara’s mouth and she opened her eyes.

“Here, you need to keep your strength up.”

She gave him a contented smile that bolstered his masculine arrogance. “I don’t think food will help.”

“No? Then what?”

“Savoring every moment with you.”

“We’ll have years together. Right now you need to eat.”

She stiffened. “No.”

“Yes. How would it look if a husband starved his wife?”

“Wife?” She sat up, covering herself with the red scarf as she faced him.

“You don’t think I make it a habit of ruining women without asking them to marry me?” Something in her face made fear start in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m sorry.” She chewed at her bottom lip, crumpling the edge of the fragile material in her hand. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Marry you.”

“Why?”

“Do you really need to ask?” Anger and desperation filled her eyes as she swung back around. “Who am I, Garret? A school teacher, a vicar’s daughter, not some fine lady worthy to be a duchess.” A single tear made its way over the velvet of her cheek and a sob escaped her throat.

He couldn’t breathe. She wouldn’t marry him because she wasn’t of noble birth? The irony crushed the hope from his future. A litany of
tell her who she is, tell her who she is
started in his head. “I don’t need to marry a woman from society.”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“And what would the Ton say?”

“It doesn’t matter what they’d say. I’d make sure they were damned pleased about our match.”

She seemed to crumple, then wrapped her arms over her breasts. “No, they wouldn’t be pleased. There’d be a scandal and the Kendal name would be damaged beyond repair.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m right.” The determination in her wide eyes scared the hell out of him.

He sat up and tried to take her in his arms, but she scooted away. “None of this matters.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Perhaps not now, but over the years you’d come to hate me. Even our children’s lineage would be cast in doubt.” She leaned toward him, her eyes imploring him to understand. “You’ve worked so hard to become society’s ‘Perfect Duke.’ I’ll not bring you down.”

He understood the
hating
part. If she ever found out what he’d done, she’d never forgive him. “Doesn’t my desire to marry you mean anything?”

“I never expected marriage.” She reached out and put a hand over his. “Thank you for asking, but it makes it harder—for both of us.” She rose and started to collect her clothes. “Do you think I wanted this? I don’t regret loving you, but this one night is all we have.” She finished lacing up her bodice and gazed at him with soulful eyes. “Please don’t ruin it.”

He got up and gathered his breeches and cravat, tossing pillows on the rumpled bed with more force than needed. He had to convince her he didn’t care about her heritage—perhaps at Belcraven.

She reached out, then dropped her hand to her side. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I. More than you can know.” Silence stretched between them as they righted the room and extinguished the lamps on their path back to the door. He wanted to hold her and kiss her one more time.

Instead, he turned to her as she tugged the door shut and locked it. The metal grating sounded loud in the evening air and added a finality that struck an unwilling chord in his heart. “You will return with me to Belcraven.” He made it a command she couldn’t refuse.

“I told you I’d return until summer’s end.” She studied his face in the half-light. What did she read there? “After that, you must marry Regina.” She waited for his answer. “Promise me.”

“I promise that by summer’s end I’ll be married.” A vow he intended to keep.

But Cara would be his bride.

Locked away in her tower, Rupunzel sought escape daily. But who could rescue her from a life of her own making?

Rupunzel

Garret refused to let frustration get the better of him, in spite of Cara’s ongoing fascination with the strings of her reticule. It appeared she would do anything to avoid looking at him.

He turned to study the bookshelves, not really interested in any of the rare volumes before him. With a fingertip, he shoved a book on Aristotle back into place, scratching the gold embossed lettering embellishing the spine.

How in God’s name could she act as if that night had never occurred? Only her glances, when she thought he wasn’t aware, gave him hope.

The pattering of feet and a squeal of delight brought his attention to the doorway. His niece threw herself into Cara’s arms. “You came back.”

Cara smiled, the first genuine smile he’d seen in days. “I told you I would.” She brushed the hair away from the girl’s face. “Have you been reading your lessons?”

Rachel took Cara’s hands and nodded, though it was a bit difficult to discern because the rest of her seemed to be bobbing up and down as well. “What about your students? Did you find them? Were they truly missing?”

Cara laughed, a sound he could listen to for the rest of his life. “Yes and yes.” She glanced over at him for the first time since they’d arrived at Bellcraven. Their gazes locked. The longing in her eyes had to be reflected in his own. He swallowed. “Your uncle rescued them.”

“My uncle?” Rachel turned and all the joy drained out of her face. “Uncle. I . . . I didn’t know you were here.” She dropped Cara’s hands and executed a perfect curtsey, though when she stood, she pressed against her instructor’s skirts.

Garret couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Obviously.” His niece’s reaction caused his gut to churn. Had he been such an ogre?

Elizabeth’s trusting face came to mind. Perhaps there was a way to make Rachel like him. At least a little bit. And he’d be accomplishing his other goal as well. “I’m pleased you’ve been studious, Rachel. As a reward, I think it’s time you learned to ride properly.” His niece stared at him as if she didn’t comprehend what he had said. “In future, you will accompany me on my morning outings. I shall give you your choice of any mare from the stable.” He turned his attention to Cara. “That is, of course, if your instructor accompanies us.” He raised an eyebrow and stared at his intended bride.

Cara appeared startled. “Your Grace knows I’m not an accomplished rider.”

“All the more reason to practice.”

“Pleeeese, Miss McClure. I don’t want to have to go with . . .” The shell pink that colored her cheeks made her spattering of freckles stand out. “I mean. I’ll teach you. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

Garret kept his face impassive, in spite of the stab of hurt caused by Rachel’s near slip. “You see. My niece would miss your company.” Truth be told, so would he. Aside from wanting to spend time with Cara, he still felt unsure around Rachel. What could he discuss with a ten-year-old girl? “You wouldn’t want to leave us to our own devices.”

Cara looked from one to the other, a haunted expression in her eyes. He couldn’t be sure if her distress came from the prospect of riding or spending her mornings with him. At last she sighed and gave a small shrug. “If I must.”

“Oh, thank you.” Rachel couldn’t stay still.

His niece eyed him, anticipation shining in her gaze. He much preferred that expression to the terrified waif he usually saw.

“Any horse?” she whispered.

It was almost as if she were afraid to say it out loud. Did she think he’d go back on his word? He nodded, then Rachel tugged on Cara’s hand. “Let’s go to the stable.”

“Now? It’s close to dinner.” The argument wasn’t effective as the young girl literally dragged Cara from the room.

He watched them leave. They hadn’t asked him to go with them and to his surprise he discovered he’d wanted to be included. Too much of his life had been spent watching others from a distance.

That was about to change.

“Excuse me.” Cara stopped her teacup in mid-air.

“I said ‘thank you.’” Mallory replaced the embroidered cozy over the teapot.

“I haven’t done anything.” Cara took a sip of her tea, the soothing warmth and slightly fruity flavor steadied her. She’d dealt with the servants’ surprised comments several times in the last week. By now, she shouldn’t feel this knot in the pit of her stomach.

“I disagree.” Mallory’s eyes shone with warmth. “You’ve accomplished in a few short weeks what I’ve been attempting for years. For the first time since Edward died, my brother seems to have something to look forward to.”

Garret’s sister toyed with a pink rose in the table arrangement, working it in until its height matched the others. “Do you know how long it’s been since I saw him smile? A real smile that comes from the heart—not a practiced parody.” Her brows drew together and when she continued, her voice held a weariness at odds with her youthful appearance. “I thought I’d lost that smile for good.”

Cara shifted in her chair and adjusted the napkin in her lap. What could she say? For some odd reason, everyone attributed Garret’s change of heart to her. “I’m glad he’s happy.”

“It’s more than that. He has hopes. Dreams.” Mallory’s mouth thinned and her eyes narrowed. “You have no idea what Garret’s life was like after our older brother’s death. He became driven, setting aside everything that had ever mattered to him.

“Of course, our grandfather made sure Garret blamed himself for the accident.” Her brittle smile belied the hatred Cara heard in her voice. “It was the only way he could control my brother. You see, Grandfather was exceptional at manipulation.”

Mallory added a small amount of cream to her tea, stirred it, and placed the teaspoon on the saucer. She spoke softly. “I wish you’d known Garret before Edward’s death. He loved life. Joy and mischief used to radiate from him.” She sat back in her chair. “What plans he had. Believe it or not, he used to be a bit of a dreamer. He was going to see the world.”

Cara knew what she meant. That’s exactly the way she’d envisioned the man in her dreams. “I’m sure he can be that way again.”

“Not without your help.”

“He doesn’t need me.”

“Yes, he does. You remind him humanity comes before rules.” Mallory leaned forward, stretched out her hand, and rested her palm on the table. “Marry him.”

Cara had to remember to breathe. “He told you he’d asked me?”

“I had to worm it out of him, but yes.”

“Then you must know why I refused.” She couldn’t believe Garret’s sister would actually
want
a commoner as a sister-in-law. “How can you even consider me a suitable match for your brother?”

“Because you love him.”

“What makes you think—”

“I know. It’s in your expression every time we speak of him.” She smiled, a warm, coaxing smile that made Cara wish she could give in to her request. “In case you’re wondering, the same expression crosses his face when we discuss you.”

“Love shouldn’t be a consideration here.” Had the world gone mad? She’d always thought the nobility guarded their bloodlines more stringently than their fortunes. “He’d be shunned by Society. Do you really think he’ll still love me when everything he’s built is ruined?”

“Yes.” Mallory suddenly seemed much older than her years. “Because he’ll have what makes him truly happy.”

“Then you’re more optimistic than I.” Cara stood. “You don’t understand. Even if your brother and I were willing to take the chance, what of our children? They’d be ‘not quite as good as’ the rest of Society.”

“Garret would never let that happen.”

“He’d have no choice. You can’t control what other people think.”

“Cara, I promise if you married him you wouldn’t be disappointed.” Mallory stood, came around the table, and took her hands. “Your problems would work out.”

“I’d like nothing better than to have you as a sister-in-law.” Cara gave Mallory’s fingers a squeeze, then broke away, hoping the extent of her regret showed on her face. “I’m just not willing to destroy the man I love. If you’ll excuse me, it’s time for Rachel’s lesson.”

With as much grace as possible, she hurried from the room. She felt like she’d been placed in the middle of some kind of upside-down fairy tale. If this were a
real
fairy tale, she’d discover a noble past and be able to marry Prince Charming.

But that wasn’t reality.

There was only one person she could think of who might be able to convince Garret that her birth was an insurmountable obstacle.

Cara found Timmons in a hook-lined room off the hall. It was dedicated to outerwear garments and had a decidedly earthy smell that encouraged her to take small breaths.

The servant was cleaning the dark blue riding coat Garret had worn that morning. Cara cleared her throat to get his attention, but he seemed wrapped up in his task. Garret’s valet was the most proper person she could think of, next to Garret and his family. If he approved of a marriage, then perhaps her opinions were misguided.

“Timmons, have you ever known a duke to marry a commoner?”

He shot upright. The horror on his face, combined with the tall, light-pink wig he’d chosen that day, made Cara think of an exaggerated marionette in a
Punch and Judy
skit.

“I should say not.” He returned to cleaning Garret’s coat. The long, even strokes of his brush removing dry, encrusted mud from the fine velvet. Dust swirled around his face. “Of course, there was that unfortunate incident.”

“What incident?” Cara wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“The Duke of Devonshire’s son married an actress.”

He said the word ‘actress’ with disdain. Cara bet he didn’t even know any actresses. “You remember the young woman who came to visit me several weeks ago. Would you consider her respectable?”

“The elegant creature who adored Mrs. Shaw’s tarts?” At her nod, he wrinkled his nose. “Aside from an appalling lack of taste when it comes to tarts, she presented herself in an estimable manner.”

Cara sighed. He still hadn’t worked things out with the cook, but at least he’d forgiven her for interfering. “Well, the young woman was an actress and one of my closest friends.”

He hesitated in mid-stroke. “Indeed. I meant no offense.”

“I know you didn’t.” Cara gave him a smile. So at least a duke had married a commoner in the past. “I wonder if the future Duke of Devonshire’s bride is like my friend?”

“It would be hard to tell.” He resumed his rhythmic brushing. “The newlyweds received the ‘cut direct’ from Society and she was killed in a carriage accident a year later. Rumor has it the old duke arranged the mishap.” Disapproval threaded Timmons’ voice. “His son has never remarried simply to spite his father.”

“How . . . sad.” Would a duke stoop to murder? From what she’d heard about Garret’s grandfather, it wouldn’t surprise her. Cara rubbed her arms, which suddenly were covered with little bumps. It seemed as if all the nobility insisted on making their children miserable. Thank heavens she had Papa, who simply wanted her to be happy.

“Is His Grace aware of the Duke of Devonshire’s history?”

“I believe so.”

“Would you remind him?”

Timmons set his brush aside. “What’s this about?”

“I-I think His Grace is becoming too fond of me.” Warmth heated her cheeks. It was best not to tell him Garret had actually proposed.

“I see.” His brows drew together and worry etched fine lines around his eyes and mouth. “If you were another type of woman, the answer would be simple.”

Cara bit her lower lip. She thought her face couldn’t get any warmer. She was wrong. What would he say if he knew the truth? “I can’t—”

“And I wouldn’t want you to. You deserve marriage, and that he could never offer you.”

Cara felt faint. There it was. In spite of Garret’s proclamation, even his servants knew their union was impossible.

He came to stand next to her and, for a brief moment, something in his expression reminded her of Papa. “His Grace has put you in an awkward position. I don’t want you to leave, but perhaps it would be for the best.”

“It’s not possible. I gave my word to the duke I would stay until the end of summer.”

“Then I’ll do everything I can to discourage His Grace’s interest in you, but I can’t promise to be successful.” He smiled, one of those rare smiles Cara had come to appreciate. “In the old days a woman kept her virtue by being able to elude her pursuer. Perhaps you’ll simply tire him out.”

Cara smiled back at Timmons in spite of her heavy heart. Garret didn’t strike her as the kind of man who tired easily.

Garret laid aside his fork as his sister burst into the cheery breakfast room. Her determined gaze focused on him with an uncomfortable intensity.

“You’re going to have to tell Cara or she’ll never marry you. I don’t know how you can keep—”

Mrs. Shaw’s plate of eggs clattered to the table and Timmons raised his head from his clothing list. They both stared at his sister as if she’d grown another set of arms.

Apprehension crossed Mallory’s face first, followed by an expression of such defiance that Garret cringed.

“Well, why shouldn’t they know?” She faced the servants. “My brother has proposed to Miss McClure, but she has declined.”

Mrs. Shaw covered the platter with its silver dome. “And rightly so.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Who ever heard of a governess marryin’ a duke? A woman shouldn’t set her sights on a man above her station.”

An odd expression crossed Timmons’ face. He started to open his mouth, but Mrs. Shaw’s unexpected tirade continued. “She knows her place, our Miss McClure.”

Mallory squared off with the cook, her hands on her hips. “Why shouldn’t people marry if they love one another?”

“Love. That’s a fool notion. Once they’d married, they’d always have to deal with other people. There’d be whispers. No one would ever treat them the same way as before.”