Deceiving the Duke of Kerrington (Ladies of Deception) (9 page)

Hope was
speechless. The feel of his firm lips on hers had shocked her completely at
first but as the initial forcefulness of the kiss dissipated and turned gentle
she found she couldn’t focus on anything other than his kiss, though she knew
she should protest and object to his forwardness.  His hands wound into her
loose hair, caressing her scalp and causing her spine to tingle. The kiss
deepened and she found herself forgetting about anything around her, the very
fact that they were sitting in the middle of the drawing room where someone
could walk in at any moment didn’t even cross her mind.

Though Pierce
had initially kissed her to prove a point he soon found himself completely immersed
in her, nothing existed but the two of them. She was warm and responsive and
smelled clean and fresh and slightly of lavender, unlike most of the ladies of
his acquaintance who wore so much perfume it repulsed him. He could tell by her
initial hesitation and reservation that she hadn’t had much experience kissing
and it gave him a secret thrill to realize that as her husband he would be the
one to teach her the art of passion. When she moaned softly he moaned in
response, wrapping his hands in her hair and tugging her head back to give him
full access to her neck as he trailed tiny kisses down her cheek and over the slim
column of satin skin feeling her pulse beat under his lips. He slowly moved
back up to her lips where he placed a final kiss before reluctantly pulling
back to look at her flushed cheeks and eyes that had darkened with passion.

“Tell me that
didn’t thrill you,” he growled.

He didn’t know
what he expected her to say but he was caught completely off guard when she put
a dainty hand over her mouth and began giggling. He failed to find the humor in
what had just occurred.

“What’s so
humorous?” he asked.

“You just
snarled at me, like the grumpy gnome in one of my stories that snarls when he
speaks. I couldn’t help it that you reminded me of him.”

“How flattering
to know that I remind you of a gnome.  And for the record, I don’t snarl.” What
was with women telling him he snarled lately—first his mother and now her?

“You most
certainly did your grace. Do you make a habit of it because if so I’m not sure
I can go through with this arrangement. To think I’ll be spending the rest of
my life with a man that snarls is unthinkable.”

“That’s all you
have to say? I just kiss you passionately and all you can do is complain that I
snarl?”

She felt herself
weaken at the reminder of that passionate kiss. It had shaken her up more than
she was willing to admit so instead she said, “I suppose it was pleasant
enough, thank you.”

“Pleasant? I’ve
been told my kisses are many things but never have they been described as
merely pleasant.” He was provoked by her indifference to a kiss that had
sparked more passion in him than he could ever recall experiencing but he would
never admit it if she wouldn’t.

“You’re snarling
again—and maybe you haven’t gathered enough opinions.”

“I can assure you
that I’ve kissed plenty of women,” he raked one hand through his hair causing
it to muse adorably. “And this is a highly inappropriate discussion.”

“No more
inappropriate than your previous actions.” She said as she purposely scooted
away from him, it was much too hard to think clearly when he sat so close she
could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

He couldn’t seem
to help himself and he snarled.

“Truly you must
overcome that, it’s quite an unbecoming habit.”

“I can’t seem to
help myself, you seem to bring out the surliness in me.”

“Don’t try to
place the blame on me, I’m sure you’re quite capable of that all on your own.”
She couldn’t help but goad him, hoping to take his ego down a notch or two. 
Pierce leaned back, his arms crossing over his chest as he perfected a pout
that quite irritated Hope, especially since it only seemed to draw attention to
his full lips and she did not want to think about those lips and what they had
felt like on her own.

The loud
clearing of a throat caused both of them to jump. Pierce sprang to his feet and
smoothed out his jacket as he moved to greet Lord Brattondale with a handshake.
Hope sat as still as she could, nervous about playing Noelle for the first time
in the Earl’s presence. She hoped he wouldn’t see through her act and see to
punish her as he saw fit, not to mention the embarrassment the scene would
cause her by being called out on the deception in front the duke. For the
second time within a matter of minutes her breathing was coming rapidly, but
this time it was as a result of nerves and not passion.

“Your grace,”
Lord Brattondale nodded at Pierce as his fleshy hand reached out to grip the
much leaner and more muscular hand of the duke, “I’m glad the arrangement has
already been made for your betrothal to my daughter or surely this scandalous
scene would warrant such actions.” He looked suspiciously at Pierce’s mused
hair before turning to glance at his daughter, shocked to see her in a state of
such dishabille.

Hope rose and
walked towards the earl, anxious to defend herself, “Oh no father, it’s not
what you think. I have the most horrible news—Hope has left in the middle of
the night to run away with one of the stable boys. I only appear this way
because I couldn’t properly ready myself without the assistance of a maid so I
came to tell you post haste, to ensure I get a replacement promptly.” She hoped
she sounded sufficiently concerned, then gesturing one hand toward Pierce she
continued, “It was quite by accident that I met his grace on my hurried search
for you.”

“I suppose the
loss of your lady’s maid is quite tragic,” she wasn’t sure if he was being
facetious or not. “I will arrange for a replacement without delay. Now at least
go get some stockings and slippers on and pull your hair up properly, I assume
you can manage at least that much on your own?”

She nodded
silently then turned to exit the room but not before she heard Lord Brattondale
saying, “I apologize, your grace, she’s not always so imprudent.”

And the duke
responding, “No apology necessary, I have a feeling your daughter is quite full
of surprises, the least of which is her reckless appearance this morning.”

            If he only knew.

Chapter 11

            Hope returned to the drawing
room directly behind a maid who had brought in tea. She had managed to right
herself to a more respectable appearance—her legs and feet were now well
covered and she had pinned her hair back simply, leaving a few waves loose to fall
around her face.  Her ankle was still sore and walking up the stairs had only
seemed to aggravate the injury. She tried to hide her slight limp by opting to
sit in the closest chair she could reach while also making sure it was far enough
away from the duke. She avoided eye contact with him as she sat and waited for
tea to be served.

            Pierce watched as she
situated herself into a far chair, noting the slight limp as she had entered
the room. He hoped she would take it easy for a few days to avoid further
injury. He quickly perused her and found that he much preferred it when she
hadn’t looked so proper. His fingers itched with the desire to pull the pins
from her hair, freeing its silky mass so she would look wild and free like she
had before.

            Hope had successfully
avoided looking at the duke until she had a steaming cup of tea in her hands. 
She chanced a quick look only to see him staring at her as he spoke, his dark
eyes boring into her. She couldn’t read the expression on his face before she
quickly averted her gaze, embarrassed that she had been caught looking at him.
She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking she was interested in
him, for she certainly wasn’t. In fact, she’d be fine if she never had to see
the man again, listen to him snarl, or have to endure another one of his
kisses.

            “Noelle, Kerrington was
talking to you, have you no manners?” Lord Brattondale barked.

            Hope snapped out of her
reverie, still avoiding the duke’s gaze instead choosing to look at the earl,
“I apologize, what was he saying?”

            Pierce interjected, “I was
saying that my mother is planning a country party this upcoming week for us to
announce our engagement. She also figures it would be a good time for us to get
better acquainted with one another. We’ll need to leave in two days time, I
trust you’ll have another maid by then and will be able to accompany me to
Ridgecrest Manor.”

            “Do I have any other
options?”

            “Noelle!” the earl roared.
“You will not speak to his grace in such a manner. From here on out you are
betrothed to the man. The banns are scheduled to be read immediately following
the announcement of your engagement and I will not have you disrespecting your
fiancé any further. You may not have asked for this marriage but you will cease
complaining, do I make myself clear?”

            “Perfectly,” she mumbled feeling
contrite, and then turning to Pierce she muttered, “Please accept my apology,
I’ll be ready to embark with you to Ridgecrest Manor as you’ve arranged.” She
tried to ignore the smug look on his face, knowing he was reveling in the
admonition the earl had given her.

***

            Hope watched as a shiny
black coach pulled up in front of the townhouse, feeling a moment of
anticipation at the prospect of riding in such a fancy carriage, for it was far
fancier than anything the Parrish’s owned. She allowed the duke to assist her
into the carriage, trying hard to ignore the current of energy that surged
between them at the contact. She made herself comfortable on the seat as he
then assisted her newly acquired lady’s maid, Esther, up into the carriage
before getting in himself and sitting on the seat directly opposite of her. She
felt uncomfortable having him so close, and the constant way he scrutinized her
only added to her discomfort.  

            They rode the first few
miles in silence and though it was early in the day she kept wishing that he
would just fall asleep so she could relax and enjoy the ride in peace. But the
duke seemed anything but tired as he stretched his legs, crowding her space as
well, for she tried to sit as far away from him as possible in hopes of
avoiding any further contact with the man.

            Apparently he had noticed.
“I don’t bite you know.”

            “I suppose one can never be
too sure—you do snarl and that very well could be a prelude to more worrisome
habits.”

            “You give me too much
credit,” he stated dryly.

            They went back to sitting in
silence before he spoke once again, reminding her that he couldn’t seem to
tolerate the quiet, much to her disappointment.

            “So, tell me about your
writings.”

            “My writings?”

            “Yes, you mentioned that I
remind you of a gnome in one of your stories. I assume that implied you wrote.”

            “Oh that,” she waved
impatiently, “it’s nothing really.” She hoped he wouldn’t pry further, for it
was something she didn’t talk to anyone about and she wasn’t inclined to begin
with him.

            “Really? You referred to me
in relation to a grumpy gnome, I figure since you were the one who brought it
up it was a safe subject to talk about. That is, unless you’re embarrassed.” He
watched her face for a reaction, noticing the slight reddening of her cheeks,
“You’re embarrassed, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you write frivolous romance
stories with dashing heroes and simpering heroines, I would have to agree that
would be an embarrassment and a complete waste of time.”

            “For your information, your
grace, I would never bother writing about something I don’t believe in.”

            “You don’t believe in
romance?” he asked incredulously.

            “Most likely it’s love I
don’t believe in. I’ve never pursued it before and I don’t plan to start now.” 

            Though he was of the same
mind, it caused an odd pain in his heart to hear her speak so hopelessly about
the elusive emotion, having no desire to experience it for herself. She was too
young and much too beautiful to have given up all hope of romance and love,
feeling only a sense of honor and duty in the marriage contract. He should’ve
felt relieved that she had no such expectations in her marriage to him, but it
bothered him all the same.

            He leaned forward, resting
his forearms on his thighs, “You don’t entertain the idea of meeting a
gentleman who would adore you and sweep you off of your feet?”

            Hope laughed mirthlessly,
“It wouldn’t matter if I did, it’s too late for such trivial fantasies, my
future has already been decided and that future is you. There will be no
dashing knight in shining armor coming to my rescue, and I never expected there
would be. I find you can’t be disappointed when you have no expectations.”

            Her feelings mirrored his
own. “So, I guess that works to my advantage, if you have no expectations than
surely I can’t disappoint.”

            Not knowing how to respond,
she just shrugged.

            “So tell me what you do
write, if it’s not romance or poetry like I imagine most females are inclined
to do.”

            “Goodness, you’re
persistent!” It was his turn to shrug. She glanced over at Esther who had her
eyes closed. Whether she was sleeping or just pretending Hope couldn’t tell,
but either way she didn’t seem intent on the conversation going on around her.

            “It’s nothing exciting
really, I just write stories of fantasy—faraway lands that are completely made-up
in my own imagination, funny little creatures, like the grumpy gnome, who live
in these worlds I create and have funny little misadventures.”

 Her eyes had
taken on a faraway look and Pierce could see how passionate she was about her
writing, for it was the first time he had seen her truly interested in
something and he briefly wondered what it would be like if she was as
interested in him as she was her stories. He shook his head to dispel that
thought, reminding himself that he didn’t care whether she was interested in
him or not. “That sounds exciting. What inspired you to begin writing?”

            Hope was amazed that he
seemed genuinely interested. “It wasn’t anything that inspired me, it was
actually a man I knew when I was younger. His name was Patrick, an Irishman that
used to spend hours telling me stories of fairies that lived hidden in the
meadows.  He would weave such fantastic tales I would just sit there enthralled
listening to him for what seemed like hours. I suppose one day he grew tired of
me asking him to relay the tales and he encouraged me to start creating my own.
At first I wasn’t sure I could do it but with practice I realized I was
surprisingly pretty good. I would just think of something in my mind and start
creating a story based on that thing. It was a nice diversion from life and as
I got older I began writing the stories down. It gives me something to do,
something to preoccupy my mind.”

            Pierce narrowed his eyes as
he looked at her quizzically, surprised that a lady of the ton would find other
ways to preoccupy her mind other than with shopping, dancing, and finding ways
to snag a beau. He was astounded by her depth and creativity and blurted out,
“I would love to read some of your stories sometime.”

            Hope laughed, “Oh, I don’t
suppose I’ll allow that. I’ve never let another living soul read a word I’ve
written. I’m really no expert, I just do it for my own entertainment.” Then to
turn the attention from herself she asked, “Do you have any secret hobbies, your
grace?”

            He knew what she was trying to
do and he decided he would allow her to change the subject, but he made a
mental note of someday persuading her to let him read her writings, if only to
squelch his curiosity.

            Leaning back in the seat he
put his hands behind his head as he stretched once more. “I have many hobbies
I’m just not certain how many I would consider secret, at least not any I would
find appropriate to divulge to a member of the fairer sex.” His eyes twinkled
with mischief.

            “I appreciate you keeping
those sort of hobbies to yourself,” she sounded disgusted and he laughed, sure
she was thinking of more sinister activities than he had been implying.

            He watched as she turned to
look forlornly out the window, obviously trying to hint to him that the
conversation was over. He, however, had other ideas.

            Placing both feet firmly on
the floor and straightening he said, “Oh I suppose it would only be fair if I
divulged one of my secrets since you were so kind to share yours.”

            “I never claimed my writing
was secretive, I just didn’t want to speak of it.”

            “Calm down my little minx,
do you want to hear my startling secret or not?”

            “Since you’re bursting at
the seams to tell me, I suppose I should listen. Go ahead.” She was actually
more curious than she was letting on but she wasn’t about to let him in on that
fact.

            “I play the pianoforte.”

            Hope raised one eyebrow
skeptically, “Really?”

            “Well not elaborately but I
can plunk out a few songs passably.”

            “I must admit I’m surprised,
I’ve never met a man who played the pianoforte, much less gloated about it.”

            “I am not gloating! And
besides, I’ve never met a lady who wrote fantasy stories before, much less one
who boasted about it.”

            Hope inhaled sharply, “I was
not boasting. You were the one who practically forced me to tell you about my
writings when I had much preferred to keep them to myself.”

            “And you were the one who
pried about my secret hobbies. I could’ve told you something much more shocking
you do realize.”

            “I guess I should consider
myself lucky that you didn’t, though I can’t imagine what would be more
shocking than a man playing the pianoforte.”

            Just as Pierce was about to
respond, Esther suddenly awoke and interjected, “Are we getting close your
grace?” Hope highly suspected that she hadn’t really been sleeping and had
feigned waking up to avoid the possibly scandalous response Pierce had been
about to utter from escaping his lips. She would have to remember to thank the
girl later.

            “Closer, though Ridgecrest
Manor is still a ways off.”

            “Oh, I wasn’t sure how long I
had been asleep,” Esther answered lamely.

            The rest of the way to
Ridgecrest Manor, Hope had either pretended to sleep or actually slept, trying
to avoid further conversation with the duke. Every time they spoke she ended up
getting all riled up and she wasn’t exactly sure he didn’t do it on purpose.

            When the carriage finally
pulled up in front of Ridgecrest Manor, Hope really was asleep. Esther nudged
her causing her to jump and look around wildly, momentarily unsure of where she
was. When her eyes settled on the duke she suddenly remembered where she was
and what she was doing.