What a Devilish Duke Desires (18 page)

“From the first words I heard you utter, I knew you were not what you appeared to be,” he said. “Your grandfather is an earl,” he said. “That changes everything, Lucy.”

She reared back. “Do you think that I will go to them and beg to be acknowledged?” she said her voice rising. “I won’t do it, Harry. I might have considered corresponding with them before I saw the returned letter, but I won’t do it now.”

“To me you are a lady, regardless of whether you recognize Wargrove or not, and, Lucy, I think you should make contact.”

“Why?” she said. “So that it will pave the way for me to miraculously become a lady of the ton?”

“No, I think you should try to contact them because they are your family. You owe it to yourself to discover the truth about them.”

“I need no more proof than that unanswered letter Wargrove returned,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “I will not contact my mother’s family. It is clear to me none of them cared about her.”

“What if there are extenuating circumstances? All of the trouble started before you were even born. I think you should investigate,” he said. “It’s quite possible there are things you know nothing about. It has been many years, after all. Will you think about it?” Harry said.

“I doubt they would welcome me.”

“I suspect you would be surprised at their reaction,” he said.

Her heart hammered in her chest. “I don’t know if I can,” she said. “He hurt my mother. What kind of man would disown his own daughter?”

“There is only one way you can find out,” Harry said. “I hope for your sake you will consider it.”

“What good could come from it?” she said, her voice pitching higher. “I doubt they even know of my existence.”

“They are your family. It would be a shame if your family never had a chance to meet you, because they had no idea how to locate you.”

“I will think about it, but I doubt I will change my mind.” She sighed. “The light is starting to fade. I should leave soon to avoid walking in the dark.”

“I’ll take you up in my carriage.” He leaned down until his breath whispered over her lips. The scent of his skin filled her senses. It was elemental, like the smell of rain, but unique to him. He drew her closer, and she held her breath, certain he meant to kiss her.

The sound of footsteps on the grass startled her.

He tightened his hold on her. “It’s only a servant walking a dog.”

She put her hand to her pounding heart. “I worry someone we know will see us and think I’m your mistress.”

He took out his watch. “They’ll all be at Rotten Row.”

“I had better go,” she said.

“My carriage is here. It makes sense for me to take you home. I insist.”

“You insist?”

“Yes,” he said, tickling her waist to distract her.

“Don’t,” she said with a squeak.

“You had better agree or I’ll tickle you again.”

“Stop, stop. I surrender.”

“I like the sound of that,” he said, his voice rumbling. Then he stood, pulled her flush against him, and gave her another lush, deep kiss. Her skin heated, and everything inside of her melted. She laid her head against his chest and breathed in his scent. “If I were a better person, I would give you up for your sake and the sake of your family. But I can’t,” she said.

“I would never allow it,” he said, holding her tightly in his arms. “I won’t give you up, not ever.”

He kissed her again, and this time she rose on her toes, and his hands slid to her bottom. He pulled her flush against him, and she could feel the hard ridge of his erection. His breathing was faster and a little ragged. They were both breathing hard when he broke the kiss. She set her palm on his chest and felt the beating of his heart.

“I will make you mine,” he whispered.

He offered his arm. When she took it, she knew he’d managed to charm her into doing his bidding once again. Despite all the obstacles between them, she couldn’t seem to squelch the hope beating in her heart. The hope that he was powerful enough and determined enough to flout society. She desperately wanted to believe that somehow he was strong enough to overcome all of the obstacles so they could be together. Because even though she’d tried to resist him, even though she knew it was impossible, she loved him, and she wasn’t ready to give him up yet. Just a little while longer and then she would end it. She must love him enough to do what was right for him and his family.

That night

Harry set out a sheet of paper, dipped his pen in the inkwell, and paused. What the bloody hell was he thinking? If he went against Lucy’s wishes and contacted Wargrove, she would never forgive him, and she would be justified. It wasn’t his decision to make.

He’d known it was wrong before he trimmed his pen, but he’d been worried about Lucy and her grandmother since he’d learned they lived in one of the worst neighborhoods in London. Just thinking of her walking in the dark made him wild with fear. He also worried about Mrs. Longmore. Lucy had told him their neighbor Mrs. Green looked in on Lucy’s grandmother during the day, but that only reminded him that Lucy would be all alone if God forbid something happened to her grandmother.

That, however, did not give him the right to intervene on Lucy’s behalf with Wargrove. In truth, she had good cause to be wary of the man. She knew very little about him, and what she did know was not positive. Yes, there was the possibility that matters might have changed after all these years, but it was equally possible that Wargrove would refuse to acknowledge his granddaughter. After all, the man had not even deigned to open a letter from Lucy’s mother.

Harry had to consider the emotional impact on Lucy as well. What would happen if Lucy met Wargrove and he refused to recognize her as a family member? She would be devastated. Her father had failed her and God help him so had he. The last thing she needed was another man to disappoint her. If she would agree to marry him, he’d get a special license tomorrow, but she had misgivings and fears that it would hurt his family. He didn’t believe it, but she did. Regardless, the worst thing he could do was to take matters into his hands without consulting her.

What he needed to do was persuade Lucy that they could be together. He must prove to her that he could scale that invisible class wall without hurting anyone in either of their families. He had no illusions about her resistance, but he’d sworn to make her his. He mustn’t let doubts deter him.

Two days later, Mrs. Norcliffe’s drawing room

L
ucy arrived early for the dance lesson and prayed that Mrs. Norcliffe would not insult her again, but she’d prepared herself. If Mrs. Norcliffe dealt her an insult, she would simply ignore it.

When Mrs. Norcliffe had sent a letter requesting her dance instruction again, Lucy had read it twice, because she could hardly believe it, but even though she didn’t care for Mrs. Norcliffe, she wouldn’t turn down the opportunity. There was always a crowd in her drawing room, which meant earning money and possibly gaining new clients. It also meant she would be able to dance with Harry. Of course, they must be circumspect, but she looked forward to dancing with him again.

As she entered the foyer, the haughty butler looked down his long nose and installed her in the anteroom, where she sat primly on a sofa. The high bookshelves tempted her to explore the leather volumes, but she thought better of prying in Mrs. Norcliffe’s home.

Footsteps clicked on the marble floor. Lucy rose and curtsied when Mina walked inside. “There you are,” Mina said. “Gibson said you arrived early.”

“I didn’t mean to disturb anyone; I just didn’t want to be late,” Lucy said.

“Punctuality is a good trait,” Mina said, “although I fear I’m late more often than not.”

Mina led her upstairs to the drawing room and invited her to join her on a red mahogany settee.

“Ah, there is Anna with the tea tray,” Mina said. “I’ll pour.”

When Mina offered her a cup, Lucy drank a small amount, but her cup rattled a little on the saucer, so she set it aside. The last thing she needed was to spill something on her dress.

“Tell me about yourself,” Mina said. “Have you always lived in London?”

“No, I lived most of my life in Westbury, in the county of Wiltshire.”

“Havenwood is in Wiltshire,” Mina said. “That’s Harry’s property. Does the rest of your family live in London?”

“No, my grandmother and I live here.”

Mina regarded her with a saucy smile. “You need a husband, preferably one with at least ten thousand a year.”

Lucy’s brows rose. “Ten thousand?”

“You drive a hard bargain. Very well. Twenty thousand and your very own coach.”

Lucy laughed. “Why not add a pot of gold?”

“Oh, I like how you think,” Mina said, wiggling her brows. “I think love matches must be the happiest of all.”

“Especially if they are accompanied by a pot of gold,” Lucy said.

“I wouldn’t turn down the gold or the love,” Mina said.

Lucy had seen the way Everleigh looked at Mina while they danced. They looked like a couple in love.

When Mrs. Norcliffe entered with Harry, Lucy stiffened involuntarily. She rose and curtsied, but even though she’d prepared herself, she felt as if her stomach was tied in a knot. She hoped nothing would go awry today. She inhaled slowly and exhaled slowly and swore that no matter what Mrs. Norcliffe said today, she would not allow it to overset her. Of course, that would not prove easy, especially in front of so many in the drawing room, but she would endure what she must with her head held high.

When Harry made eye contact with her, she averted her gaze. They had to be careful when others were about, especially his mother.

“Ah, Miss Longmore, I see you are prompt. I do hope you’re prepared for today’s practice session,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “Lady Jersey suggested My Lord Byron’s Maggot. Are you familiar with that dance?”

“Indeed I am,” Lucy said. “I am more than happy to instruct any particular dance you require.”

“Very good,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.

Mrs. Norcliffe seemed far more genial today. Lucy hoped it was a good sign.

Mrs. Vernon set up her sheet music at the pianoforte and smiled at Lucy. Yesterday, Mrs. Vernon had sent Lucy a missive explaining that Princess Esterhazy had decreed the dance at Almack’s this week would feature My Lord Byron’s Maggot. It was a particularly fun dance, and Lucy looked forward to instructing it.

After everyone was seated, Lucy directed the dancers to select partners. Lord Everleigh stood up with Mina, while Justin—Viscount Chesfield—partnered with Amelia and Lord Fitzhugh asked Helena to dance.

Mrs. Norcliffe brought a pale, plump young lady forward. “Harry, you remember Mrs. Osterham and her daughter Miss Hortense Osterham.”

Harry bowed. “Yes, of course, I remember you both.”

Mrs. Norcliffe smiled at Hortense. “I understand you enjoy dancing.”

A blush seared Miss Osterham’s face. “Yes,” she mumbled.

“Well, then you must participate in the dance practice today,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “I’m sure Harry will be happy to partner with you.”

Lucy sighed inwardly. She’d hoped to partner with Harry again, but it was not to be. All the same, Mrs. Norcliffe’s obvious maneuver was so awkward that Lucy winced. Poor Hortense’s ears grew bright red. Lucy couldn’t help feeling sorry for the girl.

Harry regarded Hortense with a stoic expression. “Miss Osterham, if you are not previously engaged, I would consider it an honor to dance with you.”

“Thank you,” Hortense said in a barely audible voice.

Lucy wondered why Mrs. Norcliffe had put Harry on the spot. In Lucy’s opinion, it had been an ill-bred thing to do. Then she remembered something Harry had told her at Almack’s.
I narrowly escaped dancing all night with a young lady nearly half my age.

Was Hortense the young lady he’d spoken of? If so, this wasn’t the first time Mrs. Norcliffe had attempted to play matchmaker.

The thought made Lucy’s chest tighten, but it was foolish of her to worry. Yet, she thought of that night at Almack’s when she’d seen all of the aristo girls surrounding him. She’d been a little jealous, but she’d pushed it out of her mind.

It had been far easier to ignore a group of ladies vying for his attention than to watch Mrs. Norcliffe press Harry into dancing with a specific young lady. Lucy told herself it was foolish to worry. Harry’s reserved expression indicated he wasn’t pleased with his mother’s arrangement. Lucy felt sure he was trying to conceal his feelings for the sake of Hortense.

When Lucy turned, she happened to notice Miss Osterham’s fingers trembling. The girl clasped her hands as if trying to control her vexation. Lucy couldn’t bear to watch Hortense’s mortification any longer. The sooner the dancing started the better.

Lucy regarded Mrs. Norcliffe. “If you are ready, I will commence the dancing practice.”

“Yes, please proceed,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.

Lucy stood in front of the crowd and said, “Today we will practice a particularly fun dance called My Lord Byron’s Maggot.”

Lucy hoped it would prove to be the best distraction for Hortense. Knowing the young lady was nervous, she thought it best to encourage all of the dancers to focus on learning and having fun rather than attempting to perfect the dance. Lucy vowed to do her best to put the girl and all the other dancers at ease.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lucy said. “Before we begin, I wish to remind everyone that this is a dance
practice
. I will direct the dancers, but remember that we all make mistakes. At the last practice session, Lord Chesfield turned in the wrong direction, and everyone laughed. The practice sessions are to prepare for the actual dancing, and no one should feel embarrassed if they make a wrong turn or forget the next movement.

“Now, if the dancers will take your positions, I will direct you. Lord Bryon’s Maggot is an amusing dance, and I’m sure you will enjoy it. First, we will walk through the steps to familiarize everyone. Gentlemen, dance forward, circle your partner, and when you return, cast off one place down the line.”

After the gentlemen completed those steps, Lucy said, “Clap your hands together, and then clap your partner’s hands.”

By now all the dancers were smiling as the ladies and gentlemen clapped each other’s hands. Lucy was glad to see Hortense laughing as she clapped hands with Harry.

“Next is the fun part. Gentlemen, motion your partner to come hither with your hand.”

“I like this part,” Justin said, motioning Amelia.

“Obviously Justin is eager,” Lucy said, making everyone laugh.

Justin grinned. “I have to prove myself after my faux pas at the last practice.”

“You are all allowed to make mistakes,” Lucy said. “Now, clasp hands with your partner, turn in a circle, and move down one place in the line. Excellent! You’re all doing very well. Now the ladies motion their partners to come hither.”

“Mina, you may motion me to come hither whenever you please,” Lord Everleigh said.

“Ha!” Mina said, and motioned him with her fingers.

Everleigh skipped forward. “Whether thou motion, I will go.”

Mina burst out laughing. “You have many good qualities, Everleigh, but you are no poet.”

The ladies watching in the drawing room were smiling and laughing as well.

Lucy directed the dancers to walk through the steps once more, and then she turned to Mrs. Vernon. “Will you play for us now?”

“Indeed I will,” Mrs. Vernon said.

Lucy was gratified that all of the dancers appeared to be enjoying themselves. At one point, Hortense seemed lost, but Harry saved her by turning her in the right direction. When the dance ended, Hortense was talking to the other dancers and seemed far more at ease.

Lucy curtsied and said, “I wish you all well at the Almack’s dancing competition.”

“Thank you, Miss Longmore,” Justin said. “I enjoyed this dance better than any other.”

Everyone else chimed in their approval of the dance as well. All agreed it was great fun.

Lucy was glad the practice session went well, especially for Hortense’s sake. Now she must wait until Mrs. Norcliffe directed her. She hoped the woman would not embarrass her again, but this time she was prepared to ignore it. She was proud of her dancing skills and knew she’d helped Hortense in particular.

Mrs. Norcliffe linked arms with Hortense and escorted her over to Harry. Shortly thereafter, Mrs. Osterham joined them. They stood in a small circle talking while the guests trickled out of the drawing room.

Lucy stood near a pillar, waiting for Mrs. Norcliffe to dismiss her. She regarded Harry from the corner of her eye. He’d clasped his hands behind his back, but his expression was inscrutable.

All of the other guests had left. The cavernous drawing room was quiet, and she couldn’t help overhearing Mrs. Norcliffe and Mrs. Osterham conversing. She kept her gaze averted so that it wouldn’t seem as if she were eavesdropping.

“Mrs. Norcliffe, you must attend us at Madame Delanger’s shop tomorrow,” Mrs. Osterham said. “I wish to order three new gowns for Hortense and want your approval before we make our decisions.”

“Mama, I am unsure about the primrose fabric Madame Delanger recommended. I am having second thoughts,” Hortense said.

“Well, my dear, I shall be more than happy to advise you tomorrow,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.

Lucy tried to focus on something else, but the mention of Madame Delanger’s shop only reminded her how much she missed seeing Evelyn and Mary on a daily basis. Her friends were working miserably long hours sewing every day. Not so long ago, she’d been terrified when Madame had sacked her, but it had turned out to be a blessing.

Once again, her thoughts were interrupted by the conversation taking place in the drawing room.

“Mama, perhaps we could go for ices at Gunther’s afterward,” Hortense said.

“What a lovely suggestion,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “Harry, you must join us.”

“I regret that I must decline due to other commitments,” he said, his tone a bit flat.

“We shall change his mind,” Mrs. Osterham said, tittering.

“Indeed we shall,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “Harry, you do not want to disappoint Hortense.”

Lucy suspected Harry did not appreciate their insistence when he’d already declined.

“Mrs. Osterham, you must dine with us on Friday evening,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “I’m sure Harry would be delighted.”

The discussion about the dinner party proved to be the point of honesty for Lucy. She was not entirely selfless where Hortense was concerned. In truth, envy twined around her heart and made her miserable. She tried to think of pleasant things like taking tea with her grandmother and reading a book from the circulating library. She focused on keeping a serene countenance when she felt anything but tranquil.

At long last, Mrs. Osterham and Hortense departed with many well wishes from Mrs. Norcliffe.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw Harry approach his mother. He spoke in a voice too low for Lucy to hear.

“Oh, dear me,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “Thank you for reminding me, Harry. Miss Longmore, I do apologize. I quite forgot you.”

Lucy couldn’t miss Mrs. Norcliffe’s gloating expression or her insinuation that Lucy was forgettable.

“Please return next week,” Mrs. Norcliffe said in a jovial tone. “You may collect your wages from the butler.”

Lucy curtsied and walked toward the door.

Harry glanced at her, but Lucy averted her face and hurried out of the drawing room. She closed the drawing room door and hurried down the stairs. All along, she’d known that there was no place for her in Harry’s world, but right now all she wanted was to leave as fast as possible.

She collected her wages from the butler. Then she fled the town house and walked along Piccadilly until she reached Green Park. Lucy sat on their bench, hoping Harry would come looking for her. He would make her laugh and forget all her cares. Perhaps he would even bring Bandit with him.

She waited patiently, but forty-five minutes later, he still had not arrived. He probably had urgent business or an appointment. She decided to wait a little longer, because she didn’t want to miss him. When she heard footsteps, she rose, but it was only a servant walking a dog. Lucy checked the watch she kept pinned to her apron. An hour had passed. Harry wasn’t coming.

Lucy considered herself strong because she’d had to make her own way in the world. She was proud of her courage and hard work. This morning, however, she felt a little blue. Lately she’d started fantasizing about a life with Harry. He was so determined that she’d begun to believe just a little in the impossible. While she cleaned at the Albany, she would imagine a small town house where she welcomed Harry when he returned from a day of working in parliament or with his advisors. She silently chided herself for spinning foolish dreams that would never come true.