The Danger of Dukes

The Danger of Dukes Boxset

A Duke’s Scandalous Temptation

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015

Cover Design © Wicked Cover Designs

wix.com/wicked_art/wicked-cover-designs

Chapter One

L
ondon
, 1806

“Must I go, Brother? You know how much I detest these sorts of gatherings. Why must there be a ball
every
night,” she asked with a roll of her eyes. She would have been rather happy to be back home on their country estate in York this time of year when the earth was still warming from the bitter chill of yet another harsh winter.

              “Because it is your first Season and if a Miss has more than one Season she will most definitely be put on the shelf. You must find yourself a husband as all young ladies do,” he informed. He looked around with a keen eye and then glanced back to her. “You could be the toast of the town if you would stop hiding behind the old maids and dance, you are quite the pretty thing. Much like Mama, if she was here she would indeed be proud. You have her darker coloring in skin and hair, but you have eyes that are such an usual color. Pale violet, like father.”

              She blew a strand of hair from her face and watched him flinch.

              “Ladies do not blow hair from their faces, either.”

              She grinned at that. “You would know better than I Brother, for you have spent these past few years in London alone,
leaving
me at the family estate. I have been alone there since Papa died when I was twelve. No excuses,” she said tapping him with my fan on his arm. “Let us get this over with, I prefer not to be in this blasted contraption longer then I have too.”

              “Darcie! Watch your tongue,” he gasped in disbelief.

              “You, dear brother, have a tongue worst then I do, do not forget you were a captain in His Majesties Royal Navy for a number of years, before you came into Father’s title,” she smiled slyly, “Father never forgot, or forgave his only son and heir for being such a dolt.” she sighed lightly, “And look at where you driving us, into a hole in the ground, with all your gambling, all you have left to sell off is me! I am glad Father left the estate to me as my dowry or we would have nowhere to turn too.”

              With a final victorious grin she swept herself inside, with him following close behind, his face flushed with embarrassment.

              “Just remember to be polite and smile. Don’t waste Mother’s Italian beauty you were gifted with, it is your best tool.”

              She nodded coolly and glided into the large, crowded ballroom with a silken grace that had taken three months to learn. Slowly, but not too slow, as if balancing a book on her head. As she entered from the main door the crowd grew rather silent as she passed by. It must be the deep marron silk dress that left her shoulders bare that made them act so. With her hair upswept at the top and the bottom twisted into one long curl that fell over her left shoulder, the outfit was perfect. She glanced around as she moved into the room and noticed that most of the colors in the room were muted and pastel in color, even the dresses of the ladies.

              Oops, but too late to turn back. She was half Italian nobility and they were rather bold with their colors, her Mama had always loved bright colors.

Suddenly her brother was at her side and fitted her hand in the crook of his elbow, escorting her to the other side of the room. As they settled in for a drink the whispering began and soon the dancing had started.

              “It was quite a shock to find that you had ordered new dresses last week,” her brother commented with a slight smile.

              “Dear Brother I never did look good in washed out colors of pale pink and yellow,” she said with a small laugh.

              “Who has the most enchanting laugh in the room?” asked a deep voice from behind her brother and her in the doorway to a side entrance to the house.

              Her brother whirled around faster than she could and gathered the man in a bear hug that robbed the tall light man of breath.

              “Brendan!” her brother greeted the man warmly.

              She felt my eyes widen the slightest bit at the man who was still hugging her brother and exchanging words. He was taller than her brother, and not many were, mind you, his golden white hair long, hanging down to mid back and over one shoulder in slight waves. He had sage green eyes flashing with true joy, but that was not what caught her gaze. No, it was the three thick scars on his face and neck. Two started at the hair line and crossed over his left eyebrow and the other caught him at the temple and ran down past his neck line and hid under his collar. His beautiful Greek-god face was scarred.

              But none of that mattered; he was still as beautiful as he once was when she saw him leave with her brother when she had been eight years old, when they both went to sea with the King’s Navy.

              “Hello, Lord Brendan,” she greeted quietly from where she stood to their left.

              He and her brother turned toward where she had been forgotten and his cheerful expression turned wary and slightly confused.

              “Hello, how are you?” he returned politely, his face searching hers intently.

              Her brother slapped him on the back at his confused and startled greeting. “Do you not remember her, my friend?”

              Lord Brendan colored slightly and apologized by saying, “No, I am sorry I do not remember. I haven’t been to London in these past eight years, I’m afraid.” He smiled suddenly at some idea, “Would you by chance be the lovely lady, Lord Jackson, is to marry?” he asked pointing at her brother.             

Her brother roared with laughter drawing some attention to our little group and grabbed her hand drawing her closer.

              “By god, my friend, no! This is Little Darcie, my sister, remember?” Jackson told him with another round of laughter.

              At Brendan’s surprised look she felt a bit cheated however she gave him her best curtsy and her most bedazzling grin. “I believe I already greeted you, but I shall again. It is great to see you again, Lord Brendan.”

              “Actually it is Your Grace now,” he said stunned not noticing his own words.

              “Grace?” she repeated to be sure.

              He shook himself and returned to his normal serious manner. “I have been given my grandfather’s title, Duke of Windom, but I guess now that I can no longer be at sea it matters not.”

              Her brother grinned and patted him on the back. “Welcome back, it has been a good two years since I have seen you since the last battle.” Jackson winced at how the words turned out.

              Brendan smiled tightly. “Yes, it has been. As you can see, you came out much better than I. Not only my face, but my leg as well, ‘tis the reason I have a limp.”

              His bitterness made her angry, but his next words did it the trick in pissing her off.

              “It would have been better that I had not come back. The wounds were hell and so was the healing, and now everyday life in public as well.”

              Somehow her, hand of its own accord, reached up and smacked him clear across his good cheek with a loud
crack
. With tears shimmering in her eyes she whispered harshly, “Never wish you were dead!” Then turned on them and fled, in search of a dance partner.

…

Brendan looked at his friend and saw Jackson’s jaw agape and then he slapped it shut and simply pressed his lips together. Some of the women around them had seen and tittered over it and then left at his glare. When gone he turned to his friend.

              “Now would you explain that to me?” he asked astonished.

              Jackson looked uncomfortable and pulled him over and out the door into the empty hallway. “She is sensitive about the subject of death. Mother, well she was unhappy and often wished she was well…no longer married to Father when he grew to work too much and never come home and Mother got her wish when Darcie was seven. She killed herself. Then Father when she was twelve. Father died of a broken heart and wished to die so he could be with our mother, he told this to Darcie many times and he did. She hates self-pity.”

Jackson looked guilty, “I am sorry she hit you though, I really am. She used to worship the very ground you walked on as she grew up, before we left for the navy. Maybe now she has grown up to see through that.”

A slight smile touched Brendan’s lips and he watched her move about the floor with her newest partner. She floated around the floor like a goddess in red silk, drawing the eye. She was more than simply beautiful, she was enchanting. And he had a feeling he was in trouble and sinking fast just like his ship had.

He should never have looked into her pale violet eyes, for he was sure they held a dangerous magic. She was an enchanting fairy, unmatched by all. As the music came to an end he was already almost to her.

Chapter Two

It turned out that against her brother’s thoughts the red dress had been what made her the talk of the town, not all talk was friendly as some of the older ladies saw the color red to be the color of mistresses and soiled doves, but then again they were mothers’ of the daughters I had stolen the attention of many of their men. There had been a gentleman caller every day these past two weeks and no end of invites to parties, balls and picnics alike.

              Her brother was having a rather fun time of it, for he had made a list of the ones he thought would suit best to his problems and of course as he hurried to say, be a good husband for her. Lord Brendan they had not seen since that woeful night at the ball of the red dress.

              He had reached her side as she was breathless from the last dance and he laid claim to her hand from Baron Black, and led her onto the floor where the next song had been a slow waltz. His limp was barely noticeable at first, his movements slow and sure, but it was not as if she had truly noticed, being swept up in his strong powerful arms, which were pure strength and muscle. She could feel them under his jacket. Her breath came short with every brush of his body against her own.

              But as the song wore on his limp became worse and she could see his jaw tighten in pain.

              “Please let us stop,” she begged of him, biting her lip, “I can see this pains you greatly.”

              He had smiled a quick flash of a smile and said, “No more painful than letting you go.”

              Taking him seriously she asked, brow furrowed, “Why would it be painful to let me go?”

              He laughed softly and seemed shocked at it. “Because,” he said pale eyes flashing, “You are a beautiful young woman.”

              It was her turn to laugh softly. “Thank you, but the true beauty was my mother. She had the face of an angel.”

              His look changed to one of quiet seriousness. “And you have a face that could make one cry with envy.”

              After his words there was a long silence in which the world melted away until it was just the two of them. And slowly, looking into his eyes, she leaned up on her toes and gently pressed her lips to his. As his eyes widened she came back to herself and pushed away from him.

              “Forgive me,” she had cried, hand over mouth, fleeing the room and him with it.

             
You can’t
, is what she told myself after that moment. She couldn’t fall for a man who only offered her one thing. She must marry a man who could help with her brother’s debts. She would have given all the money Papa had left her to Jackson, however in Papa’s will it said she could not and all the money would go somewhere else if she did. She loved her brother but she had to think of herself first. She was not yet twenty one, the age for a female to own property, but by special grant of the king, which Papa had paid greatly for, it was her no matter who said what.

              She sighed as she thought of Lord Brendan, Lord Milton setting on the couch across from her noticed.

              “Is there something wrong, my lady?” he asked curiously.

              She smiled at him and placed a hand to her forehead. “I am sorry, but I do believe I have a headache. I am sorry, but I must call this short.” She gave him a sad pout.

              He brightened, patted her hand in standing and said, “Not at all, I thank you for having me and look upon another visit again soon.” And with that he left.

              She went upstairs to Jackson’s office and sat down in the chair across from him. She glowered a bit and then said, “You know I feel like I am using them all.”

              “You are,” he said, having a point.

              “I just don’t feel anything for any one of them, they are nice and sweet to be sure, but I want a man who will mean the words he says, not just to say them for the saying.”

              Jackson smiled. “Sister dear, when they are young like Lord Milton, they are like puppies and even if they don’t mean what they say, their feelings are real.”

              She glared at him. “You know that is not what I mean. I want a man, not a boy, but all who have come are either too old, too young, not titled well enough for you, however for me I want just one thing.”

              “And what would that be?” he drawled taking a sip of brandy.

              “A man who will care for me and take care of me. As simple as that, however helping you has put that dream in a bit of a twist,” she huffed.

              Jackson’s eyes gleamed. “Then just give me the money I need.”

              Standing she shook her head. “I can’t do that and you know it. If I do then I lose everything.”

              “Don’t be selfish,” he quipped.

              Feeling as if he had struck her, she whispered, “What?”

              “You heard me,” he stood, “quit being selfish Darcie and help me out, this is all I have ever asked of you.”

              Her famous temper came to head. “Selfish?” She screamed. “You are calling me selfish? You ran away a year after Mama died and then you left me alone for four years on that estate after father died! Calling me selfish when all you have ever done is whatever you wanted at the expense of the family? Me, selfish for keeping the family afloat with money father gave me while you traipsed over the world on your ship?” She picked up the closest object which happened to be a bust and lobbed it at him.

              “Me, who even tried to help you while you gambled, drank and whored away Papa’s hard earned money? I can’t believe you would say such a thing.”

              She felt the burning of tears threatened and watched as her brother rounded on her again.

              “Yes, because it is your duty to do so!”

              “No!” she wailed, “It is not! I was going to give up my life and freedom to a man to help pay for you and your debt! Well, you know what?” The tears began to fall and hit the burgundy carpet, “Go find yourself a rich wife, I will have no more part in this!” And with those famous last words she slammed out of the room calling for her servants. She was packed within an hour and all of her stuff loaded onto the carriage her Papa had had made for her mother the year before she died with our family’s noble coat of arms upon it. She went to the only place she could think of.

              When the carriage had pulled out in front of the gated grand manor and its grounds on the outskirts of London a few hours later, she ran from the carriage still crying and pounded on the front door. It was flung open and stout older man peered down at her from his extreme height.

              “May I help you, my lady,” he asked startled.

              “Where is he? Where is Brendan?” she asked desperately.

              A dark shadow passed across his face. “Now you go on and get out of here, His Grace wants no trouble from the likes of you. Go on.”

He tried shooing her away from the door. But she grabbed onto his hand and pleaded.

“You don’t understand! I need to see him now, without him I have nowhere else to go tonight!” Her breath was starting to come in gulps and her tears poured so much she could no longer see the man’s face. “Please,” she wailed as loud as she could, hoping someone else within the house would hear.

Someone else did indeed hear.

“What is that god awful racket going on, on the front step, Johnson?” asked a deep voice from the other side of the closed door.

The big man who opened the door looked to his right and said, “It’s a girl, sir, but she won’t quit till she’s had a word with you-”

She stopped my wailing then and there to call out, “Lord Brendan!”

Quick feet came and then Johnson was pushed out of the way until there stood Lord Brendan, in a dishelved looking shirt and quickly pulled on leather breeches.

Upon seeing her he gasped her name then asked, or more like yelled at Johnson for not letting her in. A shaking Johnson stood to welcome her in and she was shown to the parlor where she was placed with a small glass of sherry until Lord Brendan came in looking a bit tidier. His long hair now tied back away from his face so she could see the horrible damage to his face, but he was still beautiful no matter the mark upon his face.

He looked angry however that she was sitting in his home as he leaned back in his chair to gaze at her.

“Why have you come here this late at night?” he asked brow raised.

She looked at him through blurry eyes. “I had a fight with my brother and I have cut ties with him. I need a place to stay for the night.”

“
What?”
he asked leaning forward, shock evident on his face. “Did he kick you out, if so I swear-!”

“No,” she said quickly, “he didn’t, I left on my own. I refused to marry to help him pay his debts any longer. All he has left is that damn house, he can marry himself to get the money he needs!”

Brendan sat back, but he was not smiling. “Where will you go from here, do you even have a place to go back too?”

She nodded. “Papa gave me the country estate as my dowry and a sum of money from his will that can’t be touched by my brother no matter how much he shall try. I am tired of his games, I was just too stupid to think I could help him. I will go home, I wasn’t meant for Society anyway.” I sniffed and looked at him, smiling softly. “Please? Will you let me stay for the night?”

He closed his eyes looking as if he were in pain and she flew to his side, hands flitting about not sure where to put them.

“Does it hurt? Where can I help you? How can I help you?”

He shook his head. “Every day is a bit painful, some more than others, there is not much that can be done about it, and my body is too badly damaged. Just coming down the stairs to see you at the door was over doing it. Blast my damned leg!" he growled.

She came closer and sank down beside him on the floor and asked, “Which leg is it?”

“The left,” he gritted out.

She reached out, hesitant to touch him so intimately, but with firm hands she began working his tight muscles.

“No! Don’t touch me!” he roared.

She jumped at his angered yell, but kept up her work and said quietly, “Mama used to have weak legs, as she got older when I was little I started to notice she limped a bit. I found out when I was around five she had a disease that ate the muscles in her legs, the only thing that worked for her pain was to have her legs rubbed. I think in the end it was the pain in her legs as much as my father’s betrayal that made her die.” she rubbed a little bit harder over one of the long thick scars she felt under his breeches and he clenched his hand on the chair’s arm tightly.

Soon though his hand had relaxed and she moved on to his calf.

“You have wonderfully muscled legs,” she said dreamily and gasped at what had come out of her mouth.

He opened his eyes and grinned down at her. “Well thank you, my lady, but they are not as good as they seem. For you have not truly seen them and I have too, every day.” He leaned his head back against the chair, closed his eyes and sighed.

“Does it help?”

“It helps greatly, painful at first but it feels better than it has in a long time. I have seen many doctors and none could help with the pain other than giving addictive drugs I refuse to take. I would rather live with the pain then be drugged out of my mind.”

“You however came up with the perfect solution to my problem.” He looked at her again, “You may stay here.”

She beamed at him, “Thank you, Lord Brendan, I promise I will not trouble you longer than I have too. I shall be out of your hair by morning.”

He shook his head. “I would that you trouble me more in fact,” he said softly his face gentling. Then he realized how that sounded and rephrased with a flush, “For my leg, surly none other than you would know how to do it right. Maybe if it was treated as a treatment, my leg could recover more mobility. I should like that, to be able to walk more than a few yards and have to stop then start again.”

She beamed up at him. It was the perfect chance to discover her true feelings for this man, if she liked him or loved him.

“Of course, anything I can do to help, there is nothing pressing me to go home right away.”

“And where is your home?” he asked curiously.

“Papa and Mama’s country estate in York. It is more of a castle really, but only serves thirty or so rooms. Ten small on the top floor, ten medium on the middle level and ten large on the floor before of house’s main level. It has eight hundred acres of farm land and forest. It’s peaceful there.”

Brendan reached out a patted her head softly then pulled his hand back. “I think you have done enough, the leg feels rather good considering. Thank you, Lady Aston.”

She puffed up with mock anger. “Don’t call me that! Anything but that dreadful name, call me Darcie, call me Dar, or Darling like my Mama used too, but anything but Lady whatever.”

He considered for a moment and smiled slightly, “I think I shall call you Darling, just for the fact that it fits.”