Duke Ever After (Dukes' Club Book 5) (8 page)

Frankly, as a lady of wealth, it had seemed the mad course to her to do as so many other young heiresses did so often. Throwing everything they had away on a husband seemed lunacy when they could keep the fortune to themselves and live a truly interesting life.

It seemed Aston didn't approve of her plan and or, at least, he wasn't willing to assist her in it.

Disappointment, as Tony claimed it would, sank into her. She'd come so far, hoping, planning, ready. . . Now? Now what?

Tony eyed his brandy then gave her a hard stare. "You're only a fool if you're like other people. Da and me? We're not like other people, at all. Maybe he's hoping you won't take our lonely path.”

"Are you lonely?” she asked abruptly.

For one split instant, the mischief was gone from Tony. “Yes."

But then he grinned, swirled his brandy and downed it. "But what soul isn't in this world, eh? I say take every opportunity that happiness sends your way. And you look like an opportunity at happiness.”

She knew she should scowl as her brother so often did, but Tony was so infectious in his rather positive outlook that she couldn’t put any weight behind the words. ”Now look here—”

"Now, don't get your feathers in a fluff,” he protested. “Though you're a stunner, and no denying it, I'm not about to risk the wrath of Da trying to get in your skirts.”

Rosamund laughed.

Maeve let out a derisive sound. ”Young man, if you tried, I myself would brain you with the poker over there.”

"My, my,” Tony teased. “Terribly choosy about who your young woman has her jollies with, aren't you? I may not be a duke, and I may not have my father's experience, but I do like the ladies and they seem to like me.”

Rosamund groaned then laughed again. ”This is a very odd day. And an odder conversation.”

Tony grinned at her. ”Well. . . It was never going to be anything but, now was it?"

“True.”

Placing his now empty glass on the mantel, he clapped his hands together. ”So, shall I ask Hancock to serve dinner in an hour and you can go upstairs to freshen up? You came from Scotland, did you not? Never been myself, but I'm a good hand at geography and that's a good, long, bumpy ride to end in disappointment. Though personally, since you'll be with me, I see it as an improvement.”

It was hard not to like Tony very much. The young man had no doubt had several hardships. Bastards were never treated with any particular kindness. The world looked at them warily, no matter how well they were supported by a titled parent. And somehow, he'd survived what seemed to be a rather strange upbringing by his father. It certainly hadn't been conventional. Not with the way he spoke so freely. And yet, Tony's accent suggested he'd been to the finest schools or had the very best tutors in the land.

“I think that I have no other choice,” she said, forcing herself to smile despite the ache in her heart.

“Good!” Tony let out a whoop of pleasure then strode toward the hall.

“Now,” he pointed, “you go up those narrow stairs and the first room on the right is yours, Lady Rosamund. Your maid has the one next to it. I sleep in the attic rooms. I like them. My father doesn’t force me to sleep there, if you’re concerned. So no need to worry about me prowling around your door. I don’t spend much time in any other room but this one during the holidays, in any case. One does get tired of Ovid and these shelves are full of all sorts of entertainment. I’m reading a marvelous author at present. A book called
The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
. Are you familiar with it?”

She shook her head. Her brother didn’t purchase popular novels.

“You must borrow it when I’m finished. Now, up you go and I’ll tell Hancock.”

Having been summarily dismissed, Rosamund, to her own surprise, did what Tony suggested. She headed, with Maeve in tow, for the narrow stairs. Her shoulders brushed the walls as she ascended and she made the first right as he had indicated.

The door to the room was open and it was beautiful, light, and airy. Sprigs of holly decorated the room and she couldn’t help wondering if that had been Tony’s idea. He was such a strange young man.

But then she was a strange young woman. It was a pity that such people weren’t supposed to be friends.

She plunked her reticule down on the simple desk and peered out the window. In the distance, she could see the sea. No wonder the house was surrounded by a stone wall. They’d all have been blown to Russia without it.

She touched the cool glass. Why couldn’t she and Tony be friends? At present, she felt entirely alone in the world. . . Well, except for her maid. But she knew no one close to her in age. It seemed shocking to realize that Tony was, indeed, close to her in age, even if he was several years younger. There was a maturity to his boyish charm that told her he’d be loyal and a source of fun.

Perhaps, she wouldn’t spend Christmas alone. Or in sorrow. Perhaps she’d spend it with a new acquaintance.

Well, she’d longed for new things and she’d gotten them.

True, this wasn’t exactly what she’d been thinking of but she hadn’t want of the expected, now had she?

A smile tilted her lips. Perhaps this was just the thing. Perhaps, she was supposed to spend Christmas with Tony all along.

Chapter 8

Derek pounded on the Duke of Blackburn’s pianoforte with as much gusto as he could manage. It was an effort, his forced glee. He did usually take great pleasure in ribbing the Scotsman and the other dukes of his acquaintance. All of whom were present at Blackburn’s castle this night.

Duchess Cordelia and Duchess Kathryn were whirling about the room in their finery, circled by the arms of their husbands. It was an impromptu dance, with both women’s bellies curved with the babes they carried, and more glorious for it.

The Duke of Blackburn had wandered off. . . With his hostess, Imogen. It was all going just as it should for that particular, burgeoning couple.

If only his own life hadn’t taken such an unpleasant turn in the recent days, he’d truly enjoy the way Imogen was wrapping Blackburn around her wickedly delightful little finger.

Instead of enjoyment, he felt a strange resentment. Everyone was happy about him. Or pairing off. His entirely single state had been chosen at present and to his shock, difficult.

It had been a moment of sheer madness when he’d agreed to Rosamund’s scheme to spend a week together. With her body pressed against his, clearly his reason had completely abandoned him. It had not been helpful when she’d invoked the miller’s son, either. The very thought of her with another male, bungling or experienced, filled him with an unexpected and unfamiliar rage.

Even so, he’d been unwilling to meet her face to face again to tell her that the plan was off. Miller’s son or no. Threats or no. Desire or no.

This made him a bit of a coward. He realized this. But something about her presence made it impossible for him to refuse her or turn her away. And he needed to turn her away.

His son was more than capable of handling the situation. Tony was remarkable. He had a way with people that should have been impossible, and yet, despite everything, a few moments in Tony’s presence generally made people malleable to whatever he suggested.

The boy had traveled the world on Aston’s ships and he’d seen things that no other English youths had. In fact, he’d allowed the lad so much freedom that Tony had more knowledge of the world, women, and the strange workings of human relationships than any other youth of his acquaintance. It meant that
the boy
was far more clever about people than most old men.

Such knowledge hadn’t stopped him from warning Tony, in no uncertain terms, that he was not to attempt to seduce Lady Rosamund.

Tony had a way of appealing to all women, high and low alike. He was cheeky, fun, and completely won them over with his boyish charm before suddenly turning into what he was in truth, an absolute rakehell.

After all, Tony looked like his mother. Dark with shocking blue eyes. He also had his mother’s winsome and good-natured personality. Unlike his father, Tony had never had a dark layer to his view of the world. At least. . . Not yet. And frankly, Derek hoped that Tony could keep such optimism throughout his life.

It was Tony’s optimism that would be the kindest way to let Lady Rosamund down. The boy, who probably shouldn’t know what his father got up to when it came to the ladies but did anyway, would be gentle and lighthearted about the whole thing.

Lady Rosamund might be disappointed but then she’d realize she’d been saved a great mistake. She’d return to her brother. She’d have had a bit of an adventure. And he’d feel secure in the knowledge that he had made the right decision. . . Something which did actually matter to him.

The only regret he had was that he was missing Christmas with his son.

Perhaps. . . Perhaps this year, he’d take Tony out of school and they could travel the world as they used to. He’d missed having him by his side.

“Aston?”

Derek sat at the pianoforte and blinked.

“Aston?” The Duke of Darkwell prodded his shoulder. “Forgotten the notes, have we?”

Derek cleared his throat and realized he’d been sitting at the instrument without playing a single chord.

Bloody hell.

Thinking quickly, he proclaimed, “I am transported by the vision of your wife dancing about the room.”

“Well, stop, or I’ll transport you to a permanently unpleasant place,” Darkwell ribbed.

Derek bared his teeth in what he hoped was a merry expression. “I think I’ll have a wander about the castle. No doubt the ladies have worn you out with all that dancing.”

Darkwell’s brows drew together. “Are you well?”

“Marvelous, old man. Marvelous.” He pushed back from the keyboard before any more questions might come his way.

He grabbed a bottle of champagne as he swaggered out towards the nearest darkened hall, leaving the dukes and duchesses staring after him.

There was no destination to his sudden departure or wanderings. All he knew was he needed to be alone. It didn’t help that he was alone in
her
home.

Visions of her lithe, strong body slipping down the halls came to mind.

It had been years since he’d ever been so thoroughly shaken by another person. . . In fact, he wasn’t certain he ever had been. He’d cultivated a deep distance from all those about him since his childhood. His only exception was Tony.

Tony was his heart. Tony made him smile and thank God he was alive.

In fact, if Tony hadn’t been born, Derek felt fairly certain he would have thrown himself into the Thames in a drunken bout of self-pity.

It had been a blessing the day the child had arrived on his doorstep, his hand clutched in his aunt’s. Tony’s mother had died. . . And well, there simply weren’t the funds to take care of him. Derek had had no idea of the child’s existence. He’d taken one look into the blue eyes and lost his heart forever.

He frowned, pulled away from the pleasant memory and back to the frustration at hand.

Rosamund shouldn’t be affecting him. Not the way she was. He should have been able to have a perfectly lovely fling with her and then end it with a jolly salute and wave of adieu when they’d finished.

That’s how he was with all the women in his life.

Except her.

She seemed to sense the cracks in his facade and she wasn’t content to just look at them. Oh no. She wanted to know him. And to know him, she’d have to pry at those cracks and break through to the man he was underneath.

Most women simply gazed upon him with the anticipation of the pleasure he could bring them through jewels or physical heights. Oh, it was clear Rosamund was excited by the prospect of joining him in bed. . . But there was something more in her eyes when she looked at him

There was a pure and true curiosity about
him
. Bloody hell, she’d said she’d be pleased to be his
friend
if he refused to give her guidance in bed.

Friends?
Friends with a woman who tried to look deep in his soul?

That was an impossibility.

Intimacy of body? Lovely. Intimacy of soul? Never. Because he’d never be able to tell anyone the truth about what made him the way he was. . . And frankly, if he was to have to take Rosamund to his bed, he doubted whether he could ever let her out.

He couldn’t bear to lie to her for eternity.

He was able to be friends with Duchess Cordelia because she respected the barriers he’d built so carefully. Oh, she might prod here and there, but she had no desire to bring them down and find what lay behind them.

Rosamund? Rosamund had the sort of air about her of a journeyman ready to tear down walls to get to the very foundations of a man. And his foundations were built on a secret.

It was a secret far too serious to allow the light of day.

Tony was the only one who knew. Well, and his own father, the dead duke. But that cruel old man wouldn’t be saying anything from his mouldering grave. 

Just as Derek lifted the open champagne bottle to his lips, the Duke of Blackburn strode down the shadowy, moonlit hall, his own face dark as thunder.

It was the only accurate description that came quickly to mind.

Blackburn’s mouth was set hard, his eyes twin shadows in the darkness. His entire stance suggested that of a judge about to send a man to his death. Blackburn lifted a hand. “I’m not in the mood for any of your comments, just now.”

“God forbid,” Derek riposted. Clearly things had not gone well in the clandestine visit between Blackburn and Imogen.

“Drink?” Derek asked, holding the bottle out.

Blackburn looked as if he were about to say no, but then he reached out and grabbed the beverage. He took several swallows, tilting the bottle up.

Derek admired his precision. Once, Blackburn had been a man who knew how to quickly put away the bubbles, even if he did seem a Puritan now.

Lowering the champagne, Blackburn sighed and looked at the three-quarters empty vessel. “I seem to have depleted your supply.”

“Only a tragedy if we don’t head to your wine cellar.” This was a standard sort of Duke of Aston reply. One of thousands he’d cultivated for such moments but suddenly and belatedly he realized the danger of the comment. It sounded unquestionably like an invitation to start a drink session with Blackburn. Given his current obsession with Lady Rosamund, such a thing was inadvisable.