Regency Romance: A Duchess in Disguise (Historical 19th Century Victorian Romance) (Duke Fantasy Billionaire Romance) (76 page)

Chapter Four

Faith stayed busy for the next two days, hanging out with Stacy and Darryl and some of the other kids from their group. She didn’t want to watch Ethan getting drunk and acting like an idiot. She had a hard time believing he was really like that.

Darryl seemed to enjoy spending his time with two of them instead of Ethan and he introduced Stacy to another player on the team, Andrew, who took an immediate shine to Stacy. Both were very outgoing in the same way and discussed where they had been hiking and camping more than anyone Faith had ever heard before. How many times could you discuss the same trail and what the best equipment was for each occasion?

Darryl proved to be the opposite of what Ethan seemed to
be,
and she wondered how they could be such good friends. She found herself drawn to Darryl. He was outspoken in a way that
she
hadn’t noticed before. In fact, she didn’t know anyone like him. He was unafraid to speak his feelings, never bowed to what someone else’s opinion might be and always seemed to have reasons for everything he believed. He could back up his thoughts with at least three or four other
thoughts
and back them up, too. He also sang great karaoke and would sometimes clap loudly for no reason, which turned out to be a lot less annoying to Faith than it was the first time he’d done it. He followed it up with a “yeehaw!”

It broke any tension there might have been in the room without a doubt. She loved his sense of humor and the fact that he could make her laugh with only a look.

Saturday night was the last night they would be at the beach. Stacy and Andrew decided they wanted to try the best chicken wings place on the coast, Foster’s Grill.

“You really can’t beat wings and a large
Coke,
” Stacy said, sipping from her straw with a big grin on her face.

“These wings are incredibly hot.” Faith said,
foregoing
her straw and drinking from the cup itself, filling her mouth up to cool it down.

“You got the wrong ones
then,
” Darryl said. He scooted his plate toward her. “I got mild. You wanna try one?”

She looked at him. “You’re a
man,
and
you
’re eating mild wings?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Well,
excuse
me. I guess I’ll take the offer back then.” He hooked his finger on the plate and attempted to pull it back toward
himself,
but she slapped his fingers lightly.

“No, no, I was only teasing. Yeah, I wanna try your wings.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I got a sensitive stomach when it comes to hot stuff.” He admitted. “You won’t see me eating any curry or getting into one of those ‘see if you can eat the hottest wings on the planet’ contests. No thanks.” He folded his arms in front of him on the table and leaned forward with a smile.

“Me neither.” Faith shook her head. “And yeah, I guess I got the wrong wings.”

“It’s all you can eat
night,
” Stacy said. “You can get a different kind for the next round.”

“How many are you going to eat?” Faith asked incredulously. “You’ve already had, like, twenty of them.”

Stacy shrugged. “
Oh,
I don’t know. Maybe a dozen more?”

“You can have these. I can’t eat them.” Faith pushed her plate toward Stacy, who opened her eyes wide and stared at the plate as though she hadn’t already had almost two dozen of them.

“Oh yum! Thank you, girlfriend.”

Faith laughed and nodded. She looked over at Darryl, who was staring across the room, a watchful look on his face. She turned so she could see what he was
looking at
. Ethan was across the
room
with two girls, one arm around each of their shoulders. He was talking
loudly,
but they couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“What do you think he’s doing over there?” Faith asked, looking back to Darryl. He ran his tongue over his lips and shook his head, drawing in a deep breath.

“No idea. Why? You want me to
go fetch
him for you?”

She was surprised and looked at him, tilting her head. “No.” She laughed. “Why would you even ask that?”

He shrugged. “I thought you liked him.”

She was surprised again and looked closely at him. It looked as though something was bothering him. “Are you all right?”

“Sure.”

“I’m gonna go over there for a minute.” Stacy grabbed a chicken wing off Faith’s plate and scooted out of the booth, not indicating where she meant by “there
.”
She looked at Andrew. “Come with me, Andrew.”

“But I’m ea…”

“Grab a wing and
come
with me, Andrew!” Stacy demanded, lightheartedly, moving her eyes in Faith and Darryl’s direction for a moment. Andrew looked at the two and then back at Stacy.

“Oh! Oh, all right, yeah, let’s go over there.” He scooted over the bench toward Stacy, who had stood up.

Stacy grinned at Faith. “Clueless!” She
said softly
before grabbing Andrew’s hand and tugging on him, moving through the crowd.

Faith watched them leave. “What was that all about?” She turned back to Darryl. He still looked somewhat
sullen,
and she didn’t understand why. “What is going on with you, Darryl? What are you thinking about?”

“Well, I was just
wondering,
” Darryl said. “Do you still want to tutor me in English? I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious that Ethan doesn’t want to go out with you.”

Faith lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Well! Where did that come from?”

“I think it’s the truth. Don’t you?”

“Well…” she turned her eyes and looked at Ethan again. He wasn’t paying her any attention. He hadn’t for most of the weekend. She’d enjoyed spending her time with Stacy and Darryl. She hadn’t
really
thought that much about Ethan or the “deal” she’d made
with Darryl
to tutor him in exchange for his help in getting a chance to date Ethan. “I kind of thought that since you were friends with him, you could help me out with that, bring me to his attention.”

Darryl huffed and shook his head, his face turning a bit dark.

She put one hand on his folded arm.

“But, Darryl, I see now that he…well, he isn’t
really
my type.”

He looked at
her,
and she felt her heart jump. His eyes were very revealing. He was a blunt kind of guy
anyway
. But even if he hadn’t been, she would have been able to see what he was thinking in his eyes.

“I
can see
that he isn’t interested.” She conceded.

“So where does that leave me? I have to worry about my future, you know. I have to think about my classes and football and all that. I don’t have time to be messing around. He can spend his time getting drunk and doing stupid things.”

“Or girls.”

Darryl couldn’t resist smiling. “Yeah. That, too. I have my future to think about.”

“I know. I do, too.”

“You know what you’re going to do in your future. You don’t have to worry about it.”

She sighed. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. I mean, anything can happen, you know? I know being an elementary school teacher doesn’t sound like much, but it’s important to
me,
and I don’t want to mess it up either, any more than you want to mess up the career you have in mind.”

“Are you still thinking about dating Ethan? You still want me to talk to him for you?
I talked to
him that one time but…well, I haven’t said anything to him since then.”

“I don’t see
as
how you’ve had much of a chance considering you’ve been hanging around with
Stacy and me
and Andrew all weekend.”

“Yeah,
true
. But do you still want me too?”

Her original thoughts had been to tutor Darryl and
try
to make Ethan jealous. But it seemed now that the opposite had happened. Darryl was jealous that she wanted to date Ethan and wanted him to talk to the boy for her. She felt an overwhelming sense of affection for Darryl and gave his arm a squeeze where she was still holding it.

“You don’t have to talk to Ethan for me, Darryl.”

She
was amused
by the look of relief that swept over his face.

He
was
glad she didn’t want him to talk to Ethan. Over the weekend, his belief that she deserved better than his friend had only gotten stronger. He’d discovered that she was not just smart and not just
pretty
. She had a good soul and a kind heart. She had a great sense of humor. She had everything he wanted in a girl and he didn’t want to see her with some scoundrel who was only going to take advantage of every good thing about her.

“You shouldn’t be with someone you can’t trust, Faith.” He
said quietly
.

She nodded. “I know.”

“You deserve better than what he dishes out.”

When she replied, her voice was as soft as his. “I know.”

She realized she desperately wanted him to say that he was the one she deserved. She wanted him to ask her out. She wanted him to kiss her and never stop.

She wondered if he could see that when he looked at her.

They stared at each other for a few minutes. “Darryl.” She said his name and bit her lower lip when he flushed a little bit. All she’d done was say his name. She gave him a soft
smile,
and he returned it.

“Who do you think I should go out with?” She asked. Why didn’t he say it? Why didn’t he just ask her out?

He didn’t respond for a moment.

“Come
on; you
’re always open and up front with me.
You’re so blunt.
Surely you know who I should be with.” She turned and looked
through
the room. “How about Dwayne? Over there.” She pointed at one of the other players. “I could date him. Or how about Johnny? He’s
pretty cute
. Or I could take Andrew from Stacy, ooh, that would be fun, wouldn’t it? Our
own
little soap opera? Or…”

“No, Faith.” He stopped her, reaching up to gently turn her face back toward him. “I don’t think so.”

His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. His eyes told her the whole
story,
but she wanted to hear him say it.

“I’m the one you should be with.”

Finally, she heard the words she wanted to hear. She pulled in her breath and held it for a second. When she responded, her voice shook a little bit. “You?”

She found her breath coming and going quickly.

“Yes.” He breathed. “Me. I want you to be with me.”

He leaned forward and touched her lips with his, sending a warm flood of emotion through Faith’s body. Her legs went numb for a moment. She kissed him back more forcefully, thinking how incredibly soft his lips were.

They kissed a few more times before pulling away from each other. She looked
in
his eyes and felt her heart melting.

“Oh Darryl, I’m so glad you finally said something.”

“You are?” He grinned. “I thought you wanted to be with Ethan.”

She giggled. “I did. But that’s all changed. I…we would be a great couple.”

He leaned forward so that he was within kissing distance again but he didn’t kiss her. “I think so, too.” He said before touching her lips with his once more. He pulled back slightly and whispered, “Does this mean I have to pay for my English tutoring now?”

She threw back her head and laughed before throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. She put her lips
against
his ear and said, “Oh, you’ll be paying for them all right.”

He laughed
with
her and shook his head. “Oh Lord, what
have
I gotten myself into?”

*****

THE END

''Screw this lock,'' Peter said, taking the key out to make sure it wasn't bent. ''Screw this apartment, screw this area, screw the whole world.'' He put down the bottle of wine he'd bought a few minutes earlier and inserted the key again.

''Maybe if you put your weight
against
it,'' Marion said. He turned the key and at the same time rammed the door with his shoulder. The door flew
open,
and he fell into the apartment, landing in a drunken heap on the doormat.

Marion picked up the bottle and stepped over him, anxious to open it and have another drink.

''Nice place,'' she said, already in the kitchen rummaging through the drawers to find a corkscrew.

''It's far from nice,'' Peter said. ''
In fact,
it's the worst place I have ever lived in.''

Peter looked at the phone and saw a light flashing. He pressed the red button and listened.

''Peter, where the hell are you? Probably out with one of your little tramps, getting drunk. Do you know what today is? It's Max's birthday. Remember Max, he's your son. We didn't expect you to send a present, but you
could
have
at least
called him. You were a lousy
husband,
so I guess I shouldn't be surprised you turned out to be a lousy father.''

Peter slumped against the wall next to the phone table and closed his eyes. How the hell did it come to this, he thought?

''Haven't you got a corkscrew?'' Marion shouted. Peter went into the kitchen and threw open a drawer. He pointed. Marion was relieved.

Marion was one of the regulars at the Dragoon Inn, a pub on Grafton Way, in central London. She was a legal secretary by day and a drinker and flirt by night.
She
'd had her eye on Peter Flowers for some time. She was bored screwing lawyers and
businessmen
. She wanted to bed a different kind of man, and Peter answered that description. He was very different from her usual type. He never wore a suit, always black jeans, black shirt and gray jacket. She'd never seen him without his
trilby,
and she liked the fact his wrists
were covered
in tribal armbands.

Peter had a variety of places to stop off at on his way
home;
the Dragoon was one of them. He went there a couple of times a week.  Marion had first noticed him
two weeks
earlier. She'd made the first move. Sitting at the bar alone, mulling over why his marriage had failed so badly, he'd been grateful for her company.
What's more,
he was charmed by her wide eyes, blonde hair and the way she rubbed her breasts against his shoulder when she sat down.

He didn't speak of interest rates, court rulings or the state of the national debt like most men in the Dragoon. He
spoke
to her about the new play at the Alhambra and about the latest book he was reading. A book about a divorced man and how his wife bled him for every cent she could. He told her he loved Rembrandt but not Picasso, and how long the queue usually was to get into the museum in Florence where Michelangelo's sculpture of David
was housed
.

By the time they'd finished their first glass of wine, Marion was already desperate to be naked with him. It wasn't just his artistic nature that attracted her to
him,
though. He was also very handsome. Tall with dark brown hair and blue eyes, his facial features reminded her of a smoldering film star. His chin was robust and his jawline angular.

After a few more glasses, she invited herself back to his apartment. It was just around the corner.

''Why do you think this apartment is
nice
?'' he asked.

''Okay, it's not nice,'' she tossed her bleached hair back. ''It's in a seedy part of town, and the door doesn't open very
easily
. It's the kind of apartment you would expect a divorced man to
live in
. But what I meant by
nice
is how you have decorated it.'' She turned the corkscrew one more time and pulled.
Nothing happened
, she gave the bottle to Peter.

He grunted as he pulled and almost
fell backwards
when the cork gave in to his onslaught. ''Decorated? I haven't done a thing to this place,''

''The paintings, the sculptures, the books. I love it. It's
messy,
but I love it.'' She walked to the door which led
to
the small lounge. There was a set of bookshelves on the far
wall;
the shelves bent by the weight of the
heavy
volumes they were carrying. There was a sculpture of some Greek Goddess, Marion didn't know. She sat down on the red sofa. ''No TV?'' she asked.

''I hate TV.'' He sat next to her. ''What the hell is ever on TV that is of any interest? When TV
was invented,
the world was full of hope for
its
role in society. It was supposed to inform and educate. It has failed miserably on both fronts.''

''Kiss
me,
Peter, I want you,'' she said. ''I've wanted you since I first saw
you.
You're different.''

''How so different?'' he asked rolling the stem of the wine glass between thumb and forefinger.

''You're artistic,
sensitive,
and you know how to talk to women.''

He laughed. ''Tell that to the bitch I was married to for eight years. She hates me.''

Marion took the glass from his hand and put it down on the floor. She put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him to her.

*****

A lot of boats cruise the Thames, most of them observe the speed limit. Just occasionally one goes far too fast, causing a huge wash. Such incidents were an occupational hazard for Marcella. She lived and worked on a houseboat just down from Battersea, a suburb of London.

''For heaven's sake,'' she spluttered as the boat shook. At the beginning of the
week,
she'd decided to start a sculpture of a javelin thrower.  At the moment the boat
started
to bob up and down, she was making delicate lines in the athletes forehead. Second time today, probably the same
boat
on it's way back, she thought. She put a strand of loose hair behind her ear and prepared to start again. At that
moment,
she cursed as the phone rang.

''Miss Horner?'' the voice said.

''Yes,'' Marcella said, trying not to get Plasticine on her mobile.

''It's Jamie Smith. From the bank.''

''Oh, yes. Hi.''

''Have you got a moment?'' he asked.

She looked at the
half-finished
sculpture before her. ''Yes.''

''It's about your account. I'm afraid you've gone over your overdraft
limit,
and we need to ask you to add some funds.''

Money, always money, she thought. ''Er....yes....I'll see what I can do.''

''I'm afraid until then you won't be able to draw any cash our use your credit cards.''

''I understand,'' Marcella looked out of the window at the sunlight shimmering on the water. ''Well thanks for letting me know.''

When she hung up, she sat down on the stool and wondered how she was going to be able to comply with his demands.

''Hello, hello. It's only me.'' It was Joyce, Marcella's middle-aged hippy neighbor. She was standing on the quay next to Marcella's Dutch barge. Marcella walked out of her studio and onto the deck at the stern of the boat. When she looked up at
Joyce,
she had to shield her eyes from the sun.

''What's the
matter,
dear? You look terribly pale,'' Joyce said.

''Come on board. Coffee?''

Joyce walked across the gangplank and waited
for Marcella
to walk back through the boat and open the side door.

''Marvelous boat, this,'' Joyce said. That's what she said every time she visited.  Joyce was a forty-six-year-old divorcee who had decided to sell her house and live on a boat. She was tall with prematurely gray hair a
very large
bust. She was terribly
forthright,
but Marcella liked that. ''Now tell me what's the matter.''

''Money, as usual.'' Marcella took two mugs
from hooks
above the sink in the galley, and put them down on the table Joyce was
sitting at
.

''Money. It's ironic isn't it?''

''What?''

''You the daughter of an Earl, one of the land's richest men, yet you have to struggle like this.''

''But you know the story, I've told you a hundred times. He won't give me a penny because I chose to study art. He wanted me to study law or
business,
but I'd rather be poor.''

Joyce looked at her. Marcella was still very young, just twenty. She looked like one of the young debutantes Joyce saw in magazines sometimes. She was aristocratic in appearance, her shiny black hair flowing down over her shoulders, ending halfway down her back. Her eyes were crystal clear pools of blue and her skin bronzed. Joyce had long since given up on her
figure,
but when she was
younger,
she remembered having
a figure
similar to Marcella's. Slender around the waist with curvaceous hips supporting
a tiny
behind, and a bust that pushed forth to meet the admiring gaze of any young man.

''If I'd had children, I'd like to
think
I would have treated them better,'' Joyce said.

''
At least,
I've got this boat. I love it.''

''Yes, it's the finest
houseboat
around. Your grandmother loved it too.''

''I'm so lucky she left it to me when she passed away. I will treasure it forever.''

''That was another anomaly. Your
grandmother
living on a boat. Wasn't she  Lady Simmons from Harwood?''

''Yes. She was very
posh
but alternative.'' Marcella poured hot water onto the instant coffee she'd put in the mugs and added milk. ''Did you want something or is it just a social call?''

Joyce was bored. Her usual tactic was to pretend she wanted to borrow something, so she could hang around and chat. Marcella didn't mind. She liked
Joyce;
she was her type. Arty. ''No just a social call. How are you getting along at college?''

''It's hard. Its' the London Academy of Arts, they expect a lot from their students.'' She took a sip of coffee and scowled. ''More sugar?''

''Sugar? If I have
sugar,
it'll have deposited itself on my hips by five o'clock this afternoon.''

''Do you want to have a man again?'' Marcella asked. She never heard Joyce talk about men.

''I'm off men for life. Divorce kills you. I don't want to go through that again.''

''But you could have a casual lover.''

Joyce burst out into a loud bout of laughter. Marcella grinned at her, wondering what was so funny. ''My dear, wait until you've had more experience with men. Men want it all. You may think you've got a casual lover, as you call it, but very soon they come
round
with their dirty clothes and ask you to do the washing.''

Joyce looked out of a porthole and saw two legs standing next to the boat up on the quay. ''You see. Here's your casual lover.''

''Hello,'' Mike shouted. ''Permission to come on board.'' Marcella looked at Joyce and smiled at the face Joyce pulled. A grimace.

''Yes,'' Marcella shouted.

Mike was very tall and had to stoop to get through the door and down into the galley. ''Mike, nice to see you,'' Joyce said.

Mike ignored her. ''I don't know why you live on this boat. It's far too small.'' In fact, the barge wasn't small at all. The only
narrow
bit was the entrance
into
the
galley
. Through the
galley,
there was a large sitting room and further down a corridor, two bedrooms. Each bedroom had
its
own
bathroom.

''Come out for lunch,'' he said to Marcella.

''Sorry Mike, but
I'm snowed
under with work.''

''But it
isn't really work
is it? I mean you make models.''

Why the hell does she bother with this man, Joyce asked herself? Okay, he was handsome, but he was a prize buffoon who had no understanding of his
girlfriend’s
passion for the arts. ''Of course it's work,' Joyce said. ''You work in a bank.
That's not work,
that's robbery.'' Joyce laughed heartily
again,
and Marcella wanted
to,
but didn't.