The Perfect Duke (19 page)

“Regardless, I’m here.” Tess studied her surroundings then wrinkled her nose. “This room feels rather like your sitting area at home. Though there is entirely too much greenery.”

Odd, Tess never commented on décor. Cara gave a small shrug. “I rather enjoy the plants.” Although she had to admit her fondness for them seemed to have developed recently. They reminded her of another room—and a certain duke.

“Tess, I need your advice about something.” Cara could feel the warmth in her face. “If you wanted to . . . discourage a man, what would you do?”

“Usually, I ignore him and show pointed interest in someone else. After a time, he’ll lose interest.”

“But what if you can’t ignore him? What if he owned the theatre where you were performing?”

Tess stopped adjusting her ruffles and rested her hands in her lap. “Then my response would depend on whether I
really
wanted him to be dissuaded.” Her voice gentled. “Do you truly want the duke to stop pursuing you or are you simply afraid?”

“I’m not afraid.” Perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. She was afraid, but not of his attentions. The thought of him coming to hate her caused such pain that she wasn’t at all sure she could handle the reality. But at least he’d hate her now, and not after he’d tied himself to her, destroying the life he’d worked so hard to attain. “I have to do this. For him—us.”

Tess stared at Cara. “You don’t love him?”

“I never said that.” She’d never stop loving him.

“I see.” Tess sat forward. “Perhaps you only think you’re in love with him. I’d leave. Now, while you still can.”

“And what would that accomplish?” She couldn’t just leave. He’d come after her. She tried to ignore her elation at that thought.

Tess got up. With her mouth drawn in a straight line, she crossed to the Queen Anne table that stood by the bay window. She ran her fingertip over the Belgian-lace tablecloth, tracing the pattern as if it fascinated her. Suddenly she paused, took a deep breath, and faced her. The smile on her friend’s face appeared way too cheery. A tinge of unease swept over Cara.

“How about some tarts? From what I remember your cook makes fabulous tarts.”

Now Cara
knew
something was wrong. “Eating is not going to make the problem go away.” She put her stack of papers on a side table and rose. Tess had been acting strange ever since she arrived, but Cara had been so wrapped up in what to do about Garret she hadn’t really given her actions much thought. “You came here to tell me something. Didn’t you?”

With her thumb and forefinger, Tess tugged at the lace edged ruffles on her bodice. “Well, actually, there
have been
some . . . developments since you left.”

“What’s wrong?” Cara came to stand in front of her friend and reached out to grab Tess’ hand before she shredded the lace. “Tell me.”

Tess held her gaze. “To what extent do you trust the Duke of Kendal?” Her friend said the words quickly, as if saying them at that speed would lessen their impact.

Cara’s grip on Tess’ hand tightened. “He’d never lie to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She remembered all the times when they hadn’t agreed, but he’d always been forthright with her.

Tess gave her an encouraging smile, but the tone of her voice didn’t match her expression. “Then there must be some other explanation as to why he didn’t keep his promises.”

The beautiful young woman agreed to the deal with Rumpelstiltskin, never dreaming what it would cost her.

Rumpelstiltskin

Garret dropped the invitation, allowing the ornately gilded parchment to slide across his desk. How could he have forgotten his own engagement ball?

He started pacing the area between his desk and the bookcases. With one hand he rubbed his lower jaw, allowing his palm to crisscross several times over the scar on his chin. Regina’s father
had
told him they would announce the betrothal at the start of the Season, but he’d had the damn contract drawn up so long ago, and there had been . . . distractions.

Cara. Her beautiful face could make him forget everything but an intense desire to be with her.

He’d never thought to love a vicar’s daughter. But she was so much more than that. She’d made him see his life for what it was—a shallow existence he’d endured because he’d been afraid of failure. With her by his side, they could accomplish all the things he’d dreamed of so long ago.

If only she’d have him.

He slammed the palm of his hand against the carved wood of the bookcase and rested his brow on his forearm. He should never have attempted to seduce her. The mixture of longing and hopelessness in her golden-brown eyes had nearly killed him.

His study door flew open and he lifted his head. The object of his desire stood in the doorway, her chest heaving. “You lied to me.”

All the blood seemed to drain from him. He couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. She’d discovered his secret.

He’d lost her.

She came to him, her face a study in pain. “Why would you lie to me?”

With extreme effort, he managed to straighten and turn to her. What could he say? That he’d been a fool? “I couldn’t tell you.”

“You let me believe that Papa would be cared for. And the school . . .” She retreated and stood below his grandfather’s portrait. “All because you wanted me back here with you.” Her slim shoulders shook. “And I returned because I believed you, because in spite of everything, I wanted to be with you.”

A haze seemed to lift from his brain, like a cloud passing over a full moon. “What did you say?” He moved in front of her and took her arms. “What’s wrong with the school?”

She gazed up at him, betrayal stark and terrible in her eyes. "They’re closing the school next week.” With surprising force she wrenched out of his hold. “I guess I was wrong. You are like your grandfather.”

His gut clenched. “This is not my doing.”

“And I suppose you have no idea why no one was hired to help Papa.”

“Cara, listen to me.”

“There’s nothing you can say. Papa’s been alone all week.” She grasped his cravat, the white silk bunching out between her fingers. “Do you know who’s been cooking for him? Tess. And though she loves to eat, she can barely fry an egg.” She rested her forehead against his chest, her voice so broken with emotion that he had to lean close to hear her. “Lying is the ultimate sin.”

He stilled. “But I didn’t lie to you about the arrangements.” Using slow movements, he drew her close. She didn’t resist, even though she remained stiff in his arms. Her body fit his. He closed his eyes and rested his chin on her head, breathing in her delicate fragrance. He wanted to hold her forever. “I paid someone to take care of everything. I have no idea why nothing was attended to.” Apprehension tightened his grasp. Russell must be involved. It was the only explanation. But why?

She stepped out of his embrace, a determined set to her mouth. “It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.”

Fear bolted through him. “No. You’re not.”

“You can’t keep me here.”

For a moment he wished he
were
his grandfather. She would have found herself locked in a tower. But she was right. He couldn’t force her to remain. “I’m asking you to stay.” If she returned to London now, she could be walking into danger.

“Tess is traveling with me. I’m packed.” She wouldn’t look at him. “She’s waiting in the carriage. I simply came to say . . . To tell you . . . I wish things had been different.”

He couldn’t let her go. Something wasn’t right. They’d never found Farley’s killer, and now this. “I’m afraid for you. The man I hired may be unstable.” He couldn’t tell her it was Russell. She trusted her father’s friend and she’d think he was making up a story to keep her here.

“I’ll be fine.” She backed up, her lower lip firmly caught between her pearly white teeth.

“Let me go with you.”

“No.” The word came out like a crack of thunder. “I mean, I think this is best.”

“Then stay until I can ask Morgan to find out what’s been going on.”

“It’s not only the situation at home. I can’t see you, day after day.” She shook her head slightly, her thick hair breaking out of its bonds to bounce a golden curl on her shoulder.

His throat constricted. She would hasten into danger because she wanted to run away from him. “What if I promised you’d never see me until I heard from London?”

She reached out to him, then stopped. “I know you’d try, my love. And you might even succeed.” The fingers of one hand splayed across her stomach and she gave him a hesitant smile. “But I’m not sure I would.”

She loved him. This was ridiculous. He turned and raked his hand through his hair. He’d do anything to keep her from leaving with Tess. But even if he confessed everything, she’d still return to London. His gaze rested on the ostentatious announcement lying on his desk.

If he took that course, there’d be no turning back. Moisture seemed to leave his throat and end up on his palms. He picked up the piece of paper and faced her. “I have a bargain to make with you.” He held out the announcement. “I’ll attend this ball if you’ll stay.”

She took the note. He knew the moment she comprehended its significance. Her face turned ashen and the paper fell from her hand.

He pitched his voice for seduction. “If you don’t agree to remain until I find out what is going on, I can promise I’ll continue to pursue you.” He moved near enough to finger the curl that had tantalized him. “Eventually, I’d succeed in making you my wife.” The pain of having come so close, knowing he’d almost had everything gnawed at him. Writhing like a living thing, trying to find its way out.

Her rapid breathing caused his fingers to brush her skin. Her beautiful eyes went wide. He trailed his fingertips across her collarbone, thankful for the popularity of low cut bodices. His manhood swelled, wanting her now, before he lost her forever.

She backed away. “You’d do this?”

“Yes.” He’d do anything to keep her safe.

Her voice trembled. “Then I accept.”

She must want to be rid of him very badly. The thought prompted a feeling of despair greater than what he’d felt when Edward died. “Done. If you’ll ask Tess to wait, I’d like to send a note for her to pass on to Lord Bradford. I’m sure that you won’t have to subject yourself to my presence for more than a week or so.” He went to the desk and took his stationary from the top drawer. “At any rate, the ball is this weekend, and I’ll be leaving you to your own devices.”

“Garret, I think it’s for—”

“The title is ‘Your Grace.’ Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a missive to write.”

She gave a small gasp as her face crumpled. With a hand covering her mouth she backed away, her body trembling. Exerting all his control, he forced his face to remain an impassive mask until she picked up her skirts and ran out the door.

He managed to hold on until she left the room, then he swept his arm across his desk. Bottles, quills, and his silver snuffbox clattered to the floor. Papers flew in every direction, ink splattered across the oriental carpet, an ugly stain spread across the pastel flowers. He fell into his chair, leaned toward his desk, and rested his head on his arms.

He couldn’t go back to the man he was. That man had wanted Regina. How could he face the years ahead with her as his wife?

She wasn’t unappealing, she was simply . . .
empty.
He wanted life. He wanted Cara.

But Cara wanted him to marry someone else.

Cara stared down at the pitiful rose she’d sketched. Drawing had never been one of her strengths, but this was worse than normal. She forced her fingers to move, adding a line to the outside curve of a petal. Her addition didn’t help. The flower still appeared wilted, as if all the life were draining away.

“Why aren’t you going to marry Uncle?” Rachel’s voice carried softly on the morning breeze.

The charcoal dropped from Cara’s fingers. Her voice squeaked. She cleared her throat and started again. “Who told you he’d asked me?”

“Aunt Mallory. She said you’re being stubborn.” Rachel’s earnest expression pained Cara, but it was to be expected. Her situation with Garret would be confusing to a child.

“It’s not that I’m being stubborn.” Why did everyone seem to think this was her fault?

“Don’t you want to be my aunt?” Rachel tilted her head, and her brows drew together.

Cara’s heart twisted. “I would love to be part of your family, but I simply can’t marry your uncle.” Cara smiled at her. “If I could choose a niece, you’d be first on my list. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Promise?”

At her nod, the little girl went back to her drawing, her bottom lip firmly held by her small teeth.

Cara ran her tongue across her own moist lip and picked up her charcoal. She didn’t want Rachel to be hurt. Garret’s niece had become dear to her, as had all the inhabitants of Belcraven.

She’d never thought that life could change so much. A few short weeks ago she hadn’t even known Garret existed, yet now he filled her thoughts until there was no room for everyday concerns.

Did he think of her? She hadn’t seen him since that awful day she’d accused him of lying. The longing for a glimpse of his erect, powerful form nearly overwhelmed her.

She missed him. His ability to make her blood race. His struggle with allowing people to get close. Even his arrogance.

A hollowness appeared in the pit of her stomach. Would he truly attend his engagement ball? If so, he’d depart today. Tears threatened to spill over into her eyelashes. She searched for a clean spot on her smudging cloth, then dabbed at her eyes. Had it only been days since Tess came to visit?

With a sigh, she studied a fragile rose, one of many covering the trellis over their heads. The unsightly blob on her paper didn’t even begin to resemble the multi-petaled beauty swaying in the breeze. With uneven strokes she added more lines, making the problem worse.

“I’m leaving.” Garret’s deep, refined voice filled the secluded garden area.

The charcoal snapped in Cara’s nerveless fingers. She gathered up the pieces, clenching them in her hand.
She’d asked him to do this. She’d asked him to do this.
The litany in her brain didn’t make it any easier for her gaze to meet his.

At last she lifted her head. Her mouth went dry, and she had to swallow several times. Mallory had made it a point to tell her that he’d been hiding in his glass tower, but his self-imposed imprisonment didn’t seem to have hurt him.

He appeared every inch the duke. His rich blue riding coat was the result of an excellent seamstress, revealing his broad shoulders and tapered waist. The vivid memory of her hands caressing his muscular chest brought heat to her face and caused her gaze to drop to the white cravat tumbling down his chest, then to his black breeches. With a start, she realized where she was looking and brought her gaze back to his.

A slight curve softened the hard edge of his mouth. “I take it you approve?”

How could she not? He was every woman’s dream—her Prince Charming.

His slight smile flattened to a thin line when she didn’t respond. “I’m assuming Lady Regina will have the same reaction.”

Fear and anger swept over Cara. The thought of Regina, touching him as she had, tangling her fingers in his wild hair made her stomach heave in protest.

A tug on her sleeve brought her attention to Rachel. There was a spark of mischief lurking in the little girl’s eyes. “I’m going to the stable.”

“No.” The word sounded panic-stricken to Cara’s ears. “I think you should stay here with us. You said you hadn’t seen much of your uncle.”

Rachel stood, her paper clutched to her chest. “Aunt Mallory said if Uncle ever came to see you, I was to leave. That way maybe you’d be my aunt.”

“Rachel, that isn’t going . . .”

The girl scurried down the path out of earshot. Her pale blue skirt billowed around her. Cara watched until Rachel disappeared around a bend in the path.

“It seems I’m not the only one who wants you to be my bride.” Garret’s husky voice brought her attention back to him and his intense gaze sent shivers up her spine. “You’ve enchanted my whole family.”

“For the moment.” She stuck a willful curl behind her ear. “But they would soon be appalled that you’d married me when they were snubbed by Society.” Suddenly, Cara felt tired. She was so alone and confused, but the one person she wanted to turn to was the cause of her dilemma. How she wished she could enter Garret’s arms and let him make things right. She set her supplies aside and stood. “When will you return?”

Garret couldn’t believe Cara was being so blasé about his departure. His fingers itched with the desire to shake her. “Does it matter? Once this is done, there is no turning back.”

She blanched and appeared unsteady on her feet. He moved closer and placed a hand on her arm. Through the thin cloth he felt her heat, reveled in it. His chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. He’d been unduly harsh, but couldn’t she see this was tearing him apart?

“I didn’t think . . .” She moistened her full, pink lips with her tongue. His manhood grew hard, adding to his pain. “I mean. Have you heard anything about Papa?”

“No.”

“Or the school?”

He released her. Even her precious school held more importance to her than the hell she’d put him through these last few days. “Lord Bradford has assured me he will look into matters as quickly as possible. Until that time you are to remain here.” It was a command. He felt no remorse. Above all else, he would have her safe. “I have your word.” The unspoken bargain hung like a dark, living thing between them.