An Unlikely Duchess (16 page)

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Edward listened to the buzz of conversation around the table but he could not drag his eyes from Rebecca’s face. She was coming to London, would be attending functions with him all Season. Well, perhaps not
with
him but in the same room as him!

And she was on the hunt for a husband?

He wanted to punch something.

This was all his fault. He had antagonised her. Insulted her. And now he would have to watch her marry some dandy, no doubt.

His jaw clenched even harder until he thought his teeth would disintegrate. Who amongst the
ton
would be good enough for Rebecca? Those with the right lineage would bore her to tears. And the ones who were not boring were downright dangerous.

It was ridiculous! Rebecca no more wanted a husband than he did! What the hell was she going to do? Stifle all that personality by becoming a proper society wife? Or have her heart broken and fortune stolen by a rake?

She would not even look at him.

In total exasperation he looked across the table to Lady Caroline. Judging by the earl’s announcement, that lady had not even been consulted. Perhaps she would be able to disabuse her younger sister of the notion to marry. But Caroline looked as miserable as he felt, and decidedly caught up in her own thoughts.

And hadn’t he heard her tell Rebecca that she
liked
the idea? Well, she would be no help!

Help in what?
Edward almost cursed aloud as that damned voice popped into his head yet again. It always appeared at the worst times and it never said anything he wanted to hear.

Help in stopping Lady Rebecca from marrying? Why would he stop her from marrying someone else? Was he going to marry her himself?

He hesitated as his mind threw up images of what it would be like having Lady Rebecca as a wife. But his mind wasn’t much use since the only images it was throwing up were not images he should be conjuring in front of her parents.

He had no intentions of marrying her. She was unsuitable. She climbed statues for God’s sake. And he did not love her. He could not. No, Rebecca did not suit.

So then, what was it that he wanted? Lady Rebecca to remain unattached because he did not want to see her married to someone else? Yet, having no intentions towards her, did he want her to be a spinster? Forever alone? No, he did not want that either. It was unfair. She deserved a life filled with love. And passion.

Do not
think about passion,
he warned himself!
Not in a room full of people.

Dear God this Season would be excruciating. Standing idly by, watching men throw themselves at her until she picked one and walked out of his life forever? Perhaps they’d meet at social occasions, her on the arm of her husband and he forever lusting after someone unattainable?

“No.”

Oh wonderful. He’d just bellowed ‘no’ aloud. He’d finally taken leave of his senses.

His outburst brought a shocked ending to the buzz of conversation. Edward needed to think of something fast.

“No doubt,” he recovered addressing the earl, though how he would finish the sentence he’d started was beyond him. Plus, since he’d started off shouting he felt the need to continue in an excruciatingly loud voice. “No doubt you — er — will be wanting someone to keep an eye on the ladies at the functions you are unable to attend, Ranford.”

What in damnation was he saying?

A quick glance down the table confirmed that everyone was mightily confused by this rather random statement.

“Well,” began the earl hesitantly, “their mother will be there to sponsor them, naturally.”

“Yes, of course.”

There was a pause while Edward continued to rack his brain.

“But, between you and me sir,” he leaned forward conspiratorially. The rest of the party leaned forward too.

“You are a man of the world, as am I. I think we both know that there will be a certain type of gentleman most desirous of company with your daughters.”

What was he saying?

“What’s he saying?” hissed Rebecca to Mr. Crawford only to be shushed by his flapping hand.

“I am listening,” he whispered.

The earl looked gravely at the young duke.

“Yes, yes I suppose you are right.”

Edward inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. At least the older man thought he had genuinely meant to shout ‘No’ at him and hadn’t had some sort of episode at the dinner table.

“I have no doubt your excellent wife is more than capable of bringing the girls out. However, I believe it would be prudent to have a gentleman escort the girls to functions and keep an eye on them, so to speak. When you are not attending functions yourself, that is.”

Had he really just volunteered to be a nanny to the ladies Carrington?

“A capitol idea, dear fellow,” the earl beamed. “I will feel much more comfortable knowing that you will be looking after the girls’ interests. Need to keep those who would take advantage of them in dark corners away, eh?”

Edward decided not to dwell overly long on the fact that, to his knowledge, the only man who had accosted either of the earl’s daughters in a dark corner was him!

Instead he smiled weakly and was left to contemplate exactly how stupid or insane a man had to be to offer to watch over the very lady he wanted more than anything in this world while she set about picking someone else to spend her life with.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Rebecca could not sleep. No matter how hard she tried, she tossed and turned but she did not sleep. Despite her best efforts, she could not get her mind to stop whirring, throwing up thoughts about London, the marriage mart and, mostly, Edward.

She whispered his name. It sounded right on her lips. And he’d told her to use it, though she would not dare to outside the sanctuary of her room.

Her heart stung a little at his offer to escort her to functions. He knew that she was intending to find a husband and was obviously so unaffected by it that he was going to
help
her find a decent one!

Well, what did she expect? There was nothing between them save a stolen kiss and his low opinion of her. To be fair, he’d seen her at her worst. Twice. His opinion had been formed.

And what did Rebecca care for his opinion anyway? He meant nothing to her.

Sighing in frustration she stepped out of bed and slipped on a robe to cover her flimsy nightrail. Perhaps a book from the library would help to soothe her mind.

She slipped quietly from the room, instinctively avoiding the floorboards that creaked loudest and hurried down the stairs.

Tiptoeing into the library, Rebecca noticed with some surprise that a lantern was already burning low in the room. Usually the servants were more diligent. Still, she was grateful for the extra light. She turned it up to better illuminate the room, then took her candle to scour the shelves.

Her mind however, wasn’t on her task and she skimmed the titles without really seeing them.

“Looking for something in particular?”

Rebecca whipped round at the sound of the low voice behind her and let out a terrified scream.

Without thought to her actions she flung the candle she was holding at the person who’d spoken and scared the wits out of her.

The flame thankfully flickered out mid-flight and there was a rather sickening
thump
as the candleholder met its mark.

The ensuing string of expletives, some of which sounded as though they were in a different language, confirmed what Rebecca fearfully suspected. She had, once again, attacked and injured the Duke of Hartridge.

“Bloody hell woman. Are you insane?” His voice was no more than a loud whisper but she could hear the anger embedded in it and it made her temper flare in response.

“Am
I
insane? What are you doing creeping up behind people in the middle of the night?” Rebecca bit back equally quietly but ferociously nonetheless.

The whispering, however, seemed futile. Since she’d screamed blue murder not two minutes ago and nobody had come to her aid!

“I am not creeping up behind you, my lady,” he sniffed haughtily. “Besides, I was here first,” he finished rather childishly, rubbing his shoulder — presumably where her weapon had hit.

“Why are you still up?” she demanded.

“Why are
you
still up?” he countered.

She sighed and relented. After all, they were not getting very far standing here bickering, yet again, like children.

“I could not sleep,” she answered stiffly. She could be civil but did not have to be happy about it.

“Excited about the prospect of your new husband are you?” he sneered.

And just like that her temper peaked yet again.

“Your grace,” she bit, managing to make the address sound like an insult, “you have made your opinion of me painfully clear. You have strived to humiliate me in front of both my family and yours and you have insulted me in every way imaginable. You do not like me. I understand. You have made it abundantly clear. So why do you persist in speaking to me? Why do you care about whether or not I wish to have a husband? What does it matter to you?”

Her chest heaved by the end of her speech, so caught up in her anger was she. She was glorious in her anger.

Edward stood stock still, shock and something she could not define stamped on his arrogant face.

“You think I do not
like
you?” he eventually choked out. He laughed but there was no humour in it.

“Trust me, my lady,” his voice was low and slid over her jangled nerves causing her to shiver, “
not
liking you is not the problem.”

“Then what is?” she could not help but ask.

He stared at her for so long Rebecca thought he would not answer. He took a step closer so that there were mere inches between them.

Suddenly, it seemed as though the temperature in the room shot up and Rebecca felt the now familiar stirrings he had awakened in her.

Slowly, so slowly, he lifted a hand and grazed his knuckles softly down her cheek. His eyes, a darker grey now, like the sky before a storm breaks, bored into hers and held her captive. She could not have moved away had her life depended on it.

“The problem is,” he eventually spoke, “that I like you too damn much.”

And as his lips plundered her own Rebecca thought desperately that they appeared to be suffering from the same problem.

Edward kissed her as though his very life depended on it. At that moment, he felt like it did.

He pulled her closer and felt, with some satisfaction, her arms reach up and wind around his neck. He felt like he could kiss her forever. His tongue slipped out to taste her lips and he took full advantage of her gasp by slipping inside to taste her properly.

He could not help the groan of pure lust that escaped him as he plundered her mouth. Dear God, had anyone ever been so consumed by just one kiss?

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He’d intended to keep his distance. Had tried to. Had sat in this very room for hours trying to numb his emotions, emotions he wasn’t ready to examine.

But he hadn’t been able to stop his mind from wandering. And always to Rebecca. To her smile, her eyes, her body. Her wit, her laugh. The woman was haunting him.

And when he wasn’t thinking all of these pleasant things about her, he was driving himself insane with thoughts of her in London flirting and dancing with other men. Other men holding her like this, kissing her like this.

And then, worst of all, her marrying someone. Someone whom he was sure would not be good enough to be her husband. Someone whose hands held her supple body, moulded her shape to his own, just as Edward was doing now.

The jealousy that coursed through his veins caused him to pull her closer yet, to lift her into his body, to let her feel what she did to
him
. His hands roamed the contours of her body, made so much more accessible by the flimsy cotton that covered her shape now.

He remembered how she’d looked with her dress plastered to her like a second skin. And now he felt it and it seared his soul. He would never have enough of her. Never.

But he must. The lady wasn’t his.

The thought was like being doused in cold water and pulled him abruptly back from the point of no return. His control was hanging by the merest thread and he was closer to the breaking point than he had ever been.

He broke the embrace and held himself away from her, gripping her shoulders when it looked like she might stumble.

The sight of her standing in front of him, wide eyed and looking thoroughly kissed nearly brought him to his knees. Her robe had come undone during their embrace and the flimsy nightrail she wore did little to disguise her curves. And her hair, that glorious hair he’d had fantasies about since he’d arrived, flowed down her back like a river of mahogany satin, framing her face and making him wish he could see it spread out on the crisp white sheets on his bed. He could have wept. The temptation to pull her back to him was all encompassing.

With herculean effort, he spun away from her and paced to the other side of the room. Distance was needed. Distance and brandy.

He walked to the end table where he’d been drowning his sorrows and poured himself another healthy measure. He turned and silently offered her the same by holding up the bottle. To his surprise she nodded her assent. Neither had yet spoken a word.

Making his way back across the room to her, he handed her the glass of amber liquid before downing his own, doing all he could to stop his eyes from raking her body and his hands from touching her.

The silence stretched on. Rebecca, unsure of what to say and still feeling shaken to her core by the power of his kiss, gulped back the contents of the glass. The amber liquid burned a trail down her throat and caused her to cough and splutter in a most alarming manner.

“My God.” Edward was by her side in an instant, clapping her back in what he assumed was a helpful manner but what was really rather
un
helpful. And sore.

He led her to the chaise he’d been sprawled on when she’d entered the library and sat her down.