All About the Duke (The Dukes' Club Book 4) (8 page)

There was one thing she did know: she wanted to be as honest with him as possible. He’d listened to her last night. She’d opened her mind and showed so much of herself to the Duke of Roth. He hadn’t laughed at her or told her to stay in her place.

No, he’d encouraged her, asking question after question.

It would be so easy to slip into the role of servant again where they exchanged nothing but a few words. But she didn’t want that. Finally, she felt as if someone were beginning to know her. It was wonderful and she didn’t want that to end.

Nicholas’ broad shoulders expanded as he took a long breath. He quickly changed his breeches, turned, and faced her. “I think we’re both a bit off the map, Alfred.”

She laughed. “Yes.”

“But I’d say you’re an adventurer if I ever saw one.”

She beamed. All her life she’d longed to jump off the path made for her. Instead of censure, he was admiring her. It was strange that she cared for his opinion. She didn’t know him and, yet, she felt more akin to this man than she had to anyone since her sister had died.

“Now, where’s my shirt?”

Shirt? She gaped for a moment then whipped around and headed back to the trunk. She was going to have to see his chest? How was she going to survive? Even with his shirt on, she ached to touch his hard body. With his shirt off, it was going to be madness. Still, she was the one who’d agreed with this madcapped proposal and she’d do her duty if it killed her.

“Never mind, Alfred. Never mind. You’re going to wrinkle everything and I doubt you know how to wield an iron.”

An iron? Dear God. How the Devil was she going to manage that? She swallowed. “No.”

He snatched a shirt from the trunk, whipped the one he was wearing off and, before she could get a good look at his muscled form, he yanked his shirt on over his head. After he shoved the tails in his waistband then grabbed his boots, he started for the stairs. “Let’s be off.”

He pulled his boots on with surprising ease and, before she could fully gather her wits, he was descending.

She followed and took the hand he stuck out to assist her.

Later, when her head wasn’t pounding and she wasn’t agog from seeing her first nearly naked man, she’d take the stairs on her own.

When they entered the hallway, he was off, much like his stallion, Devil, long, powerful legs eating up the corridor. She raced to keep up with him. She had a strong feeling that she’d be chasing after the duke a good deal of the time. She’d never met anyone who met life with such power. He had a sort of knowing that wasn’t cynical. He’d seen it all but wasn’t bored or jaded. She’d seen almost nothing. They could hardly be more different, yet she found herself smiling as they headed down the main staircase and out to the foyer.

He stopped, his boots thudding on the black and white marble. “Fetch us a few eggs and some bread, Alfred. I fancy a walk.”

A walk?

“Not a ride, Your Grace?”

He stopped, turned, and stared at her. “Did I say a ride?”

She shook her head.

“Then hop to it and meet me out front in no more than ten minutes’ time.

Allegra whipped around and ran for the servant’s hall. A walk? Well, it was going to be an interesting day. And she had a suspicious feeling that she’d be running the entire way. Well, it was a far cry better than sitting on some stupid, silk cushion in some stupid ballroom where she could only make asinine commentary on the weather.

It took her minutes to grab a loaf of dark bread fresh from the oven, a bit of pie, and four boiled eggs. She shoved them all into a bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Alfred?” Mrs. Thackery called.

She froze, cringing. She wasn’t ready for a discussion of any sort. Her mind was still a muddle and she had to remember that she was, indeed, Alfred, not Allegra now.

“You’re a fright, my lad,” she said, her gray brows drawn together.

Allegra coughed. Oh dear. She’d help dress the duke but she

hadn’t given a thought to herself. And she was rather glad the duke hadn’t pointed it out. The idea of changing her clothes in his presence sent a wave of strange anticipation and dread through her. How was she going to survive it?

Oh. . . That was right. He’d turned her down.

Granted, she’d been tipsy, but he hadn’t wanted her in his bed. She wasn’t going to be fool enough to throw herself at him again.

Mrs. Thackery marched forward and tackled Allegra’s messy hair with her wrinkled hands.

Mrs. T smoothed it down then tsked. “You must improve your standards, Alfie, if you’re to look after His Grace.”

“Yes, Mrs. Thackery,” she said with as much of a chastised air as she could manage.

“Alfie?”

“Yes, Mrs. Thackery?”

“Did you sleep well?”

Allegra gripped her bag, her stomach fluttering with nerves. She’d had to lie a good deal lately. “Yes.”

“Nothing amiss?”

“No.”

Mrs. Thackery nodded. “Good. Good.” She hesitated and pulled on Allegra’s collar, straightening it. “If you have any concerns, you tell me about them. Understood?”

Allegra nodded and backed up. Mrs. Thackery couldn’t possibly know her secret, could she? No. Mrs. T was just a soft touch who was looking out for a young man in the duke’s demanding company.

“I must dash, Mrs. T. His Grace is waiting.”

She gave a cheeky grin, a grin a naughty youth would give, and headed for the gravel drive.

The brisk air filled her lungs and she let out a delighted sigh. She smiled. What could be better? A day outdoors with a man she found positively thrilling? Nothing, that’s what. She’d been so worried the Duke of Roth would discover her secret. She almost laughed. It was the best thing that could have happened to her. Nothing was going to stop her from enjoying every moment of this new turn of events. Not a bloody thing.

N
icholas eyed Alfred and, once again, questioned his own sanity. Alfred was a damned delight. Even with her shorn hair and bound breasts, there was something about her that positively radiated. How the hell had she managed to trick his entire staff?

She was so full of excitement and enthusiasm. She’d been asking him questions about India for the last hour. Intelligent questions.

He liked her.

He’d simply thought she’d be a good game when he’d first stumbled upon her in the stables the day before but twenty-four hours later, he was feeling a sort of easy camaraderie that was making him damned uncomfortable.

Well, it wasn’t all camaraderie.

As this morning had proved with the breeches debacle, he wanted her. He wanted her more with each passing hour. He wanted her in a way he’d never wanted another woman because he was willing to show restraint in his seduction.

Usually, he didn’t waste a great deal of time with women. Either they wanted to be bedded or they didn’t. She did, or she had when she was three sheets to the wind. It was he who had held back and who would make absolutely certain she was ready to take a momentous and memorable leap into sin.

They headed up over the rocky cliff. The sea roared and a salty wind whipped towards them.

It was damned cold and yet Alfred didn’t seem to mind a bit. In fact, she was grinning as if she’d never been happier in her life.

Maybe she hadn’t.

God, she was beautiful.

The soft gray sky left her skin a delicious shade of rosy cream and her red hair was a short riot about her face. The wind was plastering her breeches and shirt to her form and it was all he could do not to grab her, pull her to him, and devour her mouth in a hot kiss.

Not yet, he reminded himself. Not until he was absolutely certain that she wouldn’t regret their affair. It was damned odd, his conscious suddenly stirring about.

He shoved his hair out of his eyes and watched her leap up a set of boulders, prop a foot on a rock and gaze out to the wild sea.

February wasn’t the warmest or cheeriest month in England but she seemed undaunted as if she were a bird set free from its cage, determined to enjoy the liberty it had longed for.

He’d known many women. Some women found freedom in the cage, creating their own lives and powers within the rules of society.

The cage was everywhere. Even men lived in a cage of sorts. Anyone who thought differently was blind.

But he was glad to see Alfred taking wing as best she could. One day she’d see that life had its rules in every corner of the world but he hoped he wasn’t the one to reveal the truth to her.

He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing.

He’d wanted to get out of the castle, to keep her to himself. As long as they were isolated, Alfred could be herself. She didn’t have to pretend and he wanted to know more and more about her and she was opening up to him now without the aid of wine.

He chose a path winding down to the beach below. He loved the cliffs. Smugglers had used them until his grandfather’s day. Oh, there were still smugglers up and down the coast, but they knew they weren’t welcome on Roth land. In fact, he employed his own men to ensure that the Excise men didn’t have to search the cliffs for criminals.

As a child, he’d love to explore the deep caves.

It struck him as curious that he, without thought, had brought her to a place he’d enjoyed so much as a child.

Nicholas shook his head. He was giving weight to something that was nothing.

She glanced back at him, one hand on her pack. “Are you hungry, Your Grace?”

That was a devilish, tricky question. Hungry? Hell, yes. For her. He wanted to lay her down on the ground and make a slow, luxurious meal of her. He’d savor every lick, every bite.

“Let’s wait until we get down to the beach.”

She nodded and followed him.

She made her way down the path with the ease of one of the wild ponies that roamed over the Devon moors. He tried to imagine her in a ballroom, her hair curled, a gown keeping her spine rigid, her hands in gloves. . . Her whole personality imprisoned by the rules designed to keep women under society’s thumb.

No doubt, she’d be beautiful. She might even be the jewel of the
ton
, but it would be different. She’d never be like this. Totally joyous and uncaring what the world thought of her movements.

He felt a pang of regret. How many ladies lived the majority of their lives trying to hide their true selves?

Too damned many.

A duchess might not have to hide herself. A duchess could lead the
ton
and censure be damned.

He frowned. That was a peculiar thought.

The young woman romping over his cliffs would not make a proper duchess.

He wasn’t even thinking about it. It was just a trip of the mind. A twist of thoughts.

They strode out onto the pebbled beach and he picked out a relatively dry spot. They’d already walked a good five miles. She didn’t seem the slightest fatigued.

He sat, leaning back on his palms. “Alfred, how are you in such fine condition? Ladies don’t usually frolic about with such energy?”

“Oh. That?” She grinned. “I dance a great deal. It’s the only way to keep up one’s stamina when not in the country.”

“So you attend balls then?” he asked casually.

She nodded as she opened her bag. “Certainly.”

How could he get her to tell him her identity? Surely, it wouldn’t be terribly difficult. He was known to be rather persuasive, after all.

“You like balls?” Given his previous thoughts, he wanted to know.

She screwed up her face, “Like? Well, I like dancing, but the introductions, the braying conversations, and the machinations of the marriage-minded mamas? What’s to like about that?” 

A laugh boomed out of him.

“What?” she challenged.

“You sound like a man. Not just any man, but a titled lord.”

She sighed. “I think I should have been born a man.”

“God forbid, Alfred.” He grinned. “You make a perfect woman.” And she did. With each moment, he was growing more and more drawn to her oddities.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re the only one who thinks so.”

“People are just frightened by different things.”

“I’m different, for certain.” She tore off a hunk of bread in a most inefficient fashion and handed it to him.

He eyed the bread. A servant would have brought a knife to cut it into slices. But not Alfred. She’d brought the bread and hadn’t given its serving a second thought. She wasn’t bothered by such things and he admired her for it. Too many people were concerned with appearances and rules.

“You’re a rarity, Alfred,” he said softly.

She bowed her head slightly and busied herself with the bread.

“It’s a compliment.”

She smiled sadly. “Being a rarity is a dangerous thing, Your Grace.”

“How so?” He could have sworn most women wanted to be seen as special.

“Rarities are hunted and killed as trophies, or they’re gotten rid of.”

Her voice had softened and her blue eyes shone with a cold sheen.

“Alfred?”

She shook her head.

“Tell me?”

“What?” she said tightly, looking away.

“What’s made you sad just now?” he asked

“Not today, Nicholas,” she shook her head then turned her face to him, her lips turned in an overly bright smile. “Today is for happy things.”

With that, she jumped up abandoning him to their bread. She raced for the frothy water rushing in over the beach.

So, Alfred, for all her careless joy and silliness, had sorrow in her heart.

Is that why she’d run off?

He wanted to know. He had to know. It was inexplicable, his sudden fascination with her. Nicholas paused. Was he doing what she said? Hunting a rarity? No. She wasn’t just some object he wanted to obtain. If that were the case, he would have bedded her already. This morning or here on the beach.

Alfred was something more. Despite the instincts that had guided his roguish self for the vast majority of his life, he wasn’t going to go about his business until he knew what, exactly, she was doing on his estate and, more surprisingly, in his life.

***

T
hat had been a near thing.

Allegra peeled off her shoes and socks and ran into the saltwater. She nearly yelped at the cold, but she was made of stern stuff. Her family’s estate was in York and she and her sister had gone swimming any time of year. As long as snow wasn’t falling, they’d made mad dashes into the wickedly cold water and loved every moment of it.