In Need of a Duke (The Heart of a Duke Book 1) (12 page)

The weight of his words settled in her heart, affirming the truth she already knew. Aldora reached up and touched the tips of two fingers against the gold pendant that hung from her neck. It radiated hot and heavy against her flesh, pulsating a steady rhythm. The words Valera had uttered to Aldora on the day of her wedding to the Earl of Ravenswood drifted through her memory.
“I’m marrying the man of my dreams today, Aldora. And that necklace is going to lead you to the man of yours, too.”

The pendant had done just that. It had brought her to Michael.

Aldora had been so desperate to make a powerful match that dreams of finding the love Valera had with the Earl of Ravenswood had seemed like nothing more than a child’s dream. Only now, with the Marquess of St. James before her, Aldora realized she didn’t want to sacrifice her happiness for her family. She wanted Michael with a selfish, self-serving longing. Michael’s brother was correct; if she made the decision to forsake Michael, she would live with an aching painful regret.

Aldora forced her hand back to her lap. She didn’t need the old gypsy woman’s reminder. She knew what was in her heart and God forgive her, Michael was her fate.

She waited for the guilt, and yet this time it did not come.

Her sisters were beautiful. They were accomplished. They would make matches. Her brother was certainly young enough to weather the scandal when her father’s failings were privy to all of Society.

The marquess cleared his throat.

Aldora looked up at him.

“I imagine you are concerned with your father’s—”

She nodded curtly, effectively ending his words. She didn’t need him to finish the sentence. The fact that he and others knew of her family’s shame raked like hot coals along her skin.

“My brother has enough money—”

“I do not love your brother for his money,” she snapped.

The marquess angled his head. “Love?”

Aldora nodded. “I love—”

A loud commotion from outside the room jerked her attention to the door.

Her mother’s high-pitched screeching effectively buried whatever it was she was prattling on about.

“Where is she?” a deep baritone thundered from somewhere within the house.

Aldora leapt to her feet. Her heart raced in her chest as Michael’s brother dissolved into an afterthought of her periphery.

She raced to the door and collided hard against the wall of Michael’s chest. Her spectacles popped off her nose and skittered across the floor. His image blurred.

A watery smile turned her lips. She didn’t need her spectacles to know he was there, to sense the emotion that emanated from every fiber of his masculine form.

“Michael,” she breathed.

Chapter Ten

M
ichael bent down and retrieved Aldora’s spectacles, and with an informality that set Lady Adamson off on another wave of caterwauling, he placed them back on her freckled nose.

“Aldora,” he murmured.

His attention shifted to the familiar figure that rose from the ridiculously small chintz sofa. The same smoldering rage, jealousy, possessiveness that had fueled Michael’s footsteps and led him to do something as rash as invading Lady Adamson’s home, filled him when he spied his brother standing there, his face a blank, flat mask. Emotion raced through Michael’s being until his fingers twitched from the intensity of it.

He should have respected Aldora’s desire for a respectable match but she was his and if he didn’t fight for her, he would be forever filled with a regret that would eventually destroy him.

“I—”

“You can’t marry him.”

Through the thick glass of her spectacles, Aldora’s eyes went wide.

“I know.”

She wasn’t the conventional beauty he’d always favored. There was far too much unique in her heart-shaped face. But it was a face that was more precious than any other and he could not live without her.

“She most certainly can,” the Countess cried out, and then promptly collapsed into a conveniently located frayed chair. She waved a hand in front of her face as though she desperately fought to hold onto consciousness.

Michael stroked the backs of his fingers alongside Aldora’s satin cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “I do not want to share you. “

“You don’t have to.”

“I…”

It took a moment for Aldora’s response to penetrate his single-minded focus. He’d arrived here in a rage, convinced that he would have to battle for her hand, and now he was totally at sea.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Or anyone else.” She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. “My apologies, my lord.”

St. James waved his hand, a bemused look on his face. “No apologies necessary.”

Aldora returned her gaze to Michael. “I realized as you left me in the park…”

“You were in the park with him?” Mother screeched.

Aldora went on as though there’d been no interruption. “I realized that I want you, Michael. For two years, I’ve thought only of my brother and sisters. And perhaps it is selfishness on my part, but I believe with you by my side I can do anything. Even save my siblings from societal ruin.”

“You can’t,” the countess barked. “You can’t stop the gossips. No one will wed your sisters. No one!”

Michael glared the countess into silence.

Aldora’s throat seemed to work reflexively, and Michael knew what this decision was costing her. What manner of young woman would deal so courageously with all that she’d borne on her small shoulders?

“You’ll no longer have to worry about your father’s debts,” his brother intoned from across the room.

Three pairs of eyes flew in his direction.

St. James dusted his hands across his already immaculate coat. “I’ve seen to his debt. There is nothing standing between you and Michael’s happiness.”

The countess gasped, and for what Michael would venture was the first time in the garrulous woman’s life, she was left speechless.

Aldora shook her head. “You…I…you can’t.”

“I can and I did. Consider it a gift for your upcoming nuptials.”

Michael looked away, besieged by the same panic that had driven him to the Countess of Adamson’s doorstep. His brother could make the financial difficulties disappear. Michael himself could have done that, but neither of them could erase the scandal of Michael’s past.

Aldora slipped her fingers into his hands and gave a firm squeeze. “I love you,” she whispered, when he finally returned his stare to her. “With you at my side, I feel like I can do anything.”

Emotion filled Michael’s throat, making speech difficult. He knew what she spoke of. When Aldora was near, he was filled with a lightness that had been extinguished the day he’d dueled and been banished to Wales. He’d never imagined he’d feel alive and hopeful after those days. He’d never imagined he would smile again or laugh…or find love.

“I love you,” he said, his voice rough to his own ears. He tipped her chin up. “Lady Aldora, if you wed me you’ll make me the most—”

“If you don’t say yes, you are a daft ninny of a girl!”

This time the interruption came from the three interlopers at the entrance of the doorway. Michael imagined the girl with tight brown ringlets and familiar brown eyes was in fact a sister.

“She’ll marry you,” the other young lady, with honey blonde locks called out.

Aldora choked back a laugh and touched her fingers to Michael’s chin in a like motion. “I do not need anyone to tell me that I want to wed you. You and only you. I thought I needed a powerful peer, Michael, but what I needed was more than a duke.” She leaned up and whispered close to his ear. Her breath fanned his cheek. “I needed you.”

Epilogue

A
nne tugged at Aldora’s hand. “Do tell us again,” she fairly pleaded.

Katherine snorted. “She’s already told us three times.”

Anne frowned over at her twin sister. “If we are to land the heart of a duke, I want to be sure I understand exactly what we need to do.”

Aldora laughed, and shoved her spectacles back on the bridge of her nose. “You don’t need a duke, Anne. I’d imagine my marriage to Michael would have shown you that only love is necessary.”

Anne rose in a flurry of ivory ruffled skirts. She began to pace. “Oh, love would certainly be welcome, but a duke,” she slammed her fist into the palm of her hand in a very Machiavellian way. “Why, a duke is absolutely essential.”

“I just want to avoid marriage to cousin Bertrand,” Katherine muttered.

Aldora frowned at her suddenly somber sister. Her heart tugged at such practical marital goals for the young girl. Katherine should dream of love for herself, just as she’d dreamed of a grand love for Aldora. “There is no need to marry cousin Bertrand.”

“Tell that to Mother,” Katherine said, and folded her hands primly on her lap. “Mother is forever saying someone needs to wed him, just in case something was to happen to Benedict…”

“Nothing is going to happen to Benedict,” Aldora assured her.

“Tell that to Mother, as well,” Katherine said on a beleaguered sigh.

Anne snapped her fingers together in an unladylike fashion that would have appalled their dear mother. “We must focus on my need…er…
our
need for a duke.”

From her spot at the window-seat, Aldora studied the eldest of the twin sisters. She chewed at her lower lip. She’d never taken Anne for a future title-grasping young lady. Instead, she appreciated Anne for her spirit and liveliness. With her beauty, the girl would be the toast of the
ton
when she made her Come Out. No, neither Anne nor Katherine would have to make a desperate match, but rather a match of her own choosing.

“Well, then,” Anne stopped mid-pace. “Where is the pendant?”

“The pendant?” Aldora repeated.

Anne pointed her eyes to the ceiling. “Yes, the necklace, silly. I imagine one would need to wear the heart in order to…” Her words trailed off. “You don’t have it,” she breathed.

“Oh, dear. Now comes Anne’s theatrics,” Katherine muttered to herself.

Usually one to turn a frown on her younger sister, Anne ignored Katherine.

Aldora opened her mouth.

“Valera?”

Aldora shook her head.

“Alison?”

“Charlo…”

Katherine jumped out of her seat and walked over to Anne. “Obviously the pendant is now gone,” she interjected. Katherine looked to Aldora. “That’s right, isn’t it? After all, each of your friend’s wore the necklace and are now wed, and therefore there is no need for a single one of them to keep the item.”

That was Katherine. The clear-headed, logical sibling. Sometimes, Aldora worried about Katherine’s calm practicality. She needed just a bit more of Anne’s romantic spirit.

Anne collapsed into a nearby sofa amidst a flutter of ivory ruffles. She tossed her forearm across her brow. “You’ve gone and lost it. I shall never have a duke.”

“You don’t need a duke,” Aldora felt inclined to point out.

Anne glowered at her. “I most certainly do. A nice, wealthy, pleasant-looking one.” She paused. “Especially wealthy.

Katherine tugged at one of Anne’s golden curls. “Well, I for one do not need a duke. I need a reliable, comfortable gentleman who will treat me with affection and…”

Anne snorted, and swatted at her hand. “That is what dogs are for.”

Katherine bristled. “I’d have love, too,” she added a touch of defensiveness in her response. “I’m merely pointing out that I’d…”

“It matters not,” Anne cut in. “Aldora still owes us an explanation.”

Aldora’s lips twitched with Anne’s flourish for the dramatics. Her sisters couldn’t be more different in both appearance and temperament. “The necklace has been returned to the gypsy who first gifted it to us.”

“Nooooo!” Anne exclaimed, before Aldora had even finished speaking. She jabbed a finger in her direction. “You must find it. Now.”

Katherine glanced toward the window. “Er, it’s nearly nightfall.”

“Not now, silly. I mean,
now
as in, well, tomorrow. Or soon. But you mustn’t wait, Aldora. We must have dukes.
Both
of us,” she said with a glance in her twin’s direction.

The sisters shared a look, and Aldora felt a moment of separateness from the clear, apparent bond the two had always seemed to share—in spite of the many differences between them.

Aldora stood and crossed over to her sisters. She claimed one of each of their hands, and gave a faint squeeze. “The locket is gone, girls. For now.” She looked to Katherine. “But the gypsy…”

“
Bunic
ă
?’
”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.
Bunic
ă
’
informed me the pendant would one day be passed on to a vendor on the coldest day in many, many years, when the Thames freezes over…”

Katherine laughed. “That’s preposterous. The Thames does not freeze.”