Not Quite A Duke (Dukes' Club Book 6) (17 page)

She virtually skipped into the room.

Skipped!

Charles was standing near the desk, his blue coat hugging his beautiful shoulders.

Without thinking, she flung herself into his arms. “I’ve met your mother,” she declared.

His brows drew together and he gave her an odd smile. “So, I see.”

“We got on famously,” she added, feeling as though she could conquer the world.

“I can see that, too.”

She grinned. “So, we can be wed! Imagine! I mean, I barely allowed you to have tea upon our first acquaintance.” 

Charles’ brows drew together quizzically before he said, “Congratulations.”

She leaned back, her arms looped about his neck. “To us both.”

His mouth opened ever so slightly. “You haven’t been told have you?”

She waggled her brows, holding on tightly to his strong physique. My goodness. She felt a bit unsteady on her feet. How much champagne had Hyacinth poured down her throat?

“Told me what,” she breathed. There was really only one thing that could make this afternoon more perfect.

“That—“

“Before any more news,” she cut it, determined to celebrate to the full the shocking but surprisingly welcome turn of events. “I’d like you to kiss me.”

More than anything she wanted to feel his lips on hers and any strangeness she felt, for this did feel a trifle strange, was surely down to the champagne and unusual afternoon.

“That would be very unwise,” he said seriously which was quite unlike Charles.

“Why? You’ve been most enthusiastic in the past.”

The man groaned. “Of course Charles has.”

She frowned.

“I’m not Charles, Lady Patience.”

She tensed. “That’s not amusing, Charles.”

“No. Indeed.” He smiled ruefully. “It can be deuced inconvenient.”

“Then stop being absurd.” She pulled back, feeling rather disappointed.

As she stepped back her foot caught on the desk and Charles grabbed her, cradling her in his arms.

She smiled. “That’s better.”

“Lady Patience,” he began.

She looped her arms around his neck again but this time she hesitated before embracing him so fully. Wait a moment. . . Wasn’t Charles a trifle taller than—

“Jack, get your hands off my wife.”

Charles. . . Winced.

Patience’s head spun as she heard that voice.

How could she have heard it again? The man who was holding her,
her
Charles, wasn’t speaking.

Slowly, she turned towards the sound.

Her mouth dropped open. Charles stood in the doorway, his face dark as thunder.

She looked from Charles to. . . Charles. . . And then back again.

There were two of them? Was this why women were so satisfied all around?

Her muddled mind suddenly grasped the truth of it!

Jack, as Charles had called him, said, “She’s not your wife yet.”

She pulled herself up, using Jack’s arms and whirled on Charles. “You bloody well never told me you have a twin.”

Charles coughed.

Jack sighed. “Why does this always seem to happen with the women who are our wives?”

“I’m not his wife as you pointed out.”

“But you will be,” Charles said from the doorway.

“I’m not sure,” she couldn’t help huffing. “You’re terribly deceitful!”

“Madam, let us not start a list of our deceits,” pointed out Charles. “Between us, we could fill a bible and I did not lie about Jack. I simply never found reason to mention he was my twin.”

“Oh, I say! Whatever is going on?”

At that moment, a russet-haired girl bounced into the room. She looked like a younger, less experienced Hyacinth.

Both Charles and Jack groaned.

There seemed to be a great deal of sighing and groaning amidst this family.

The young woman spotted Patience then flashed a huge smile. A smile that could have disarmed Napoleon’s entire army. She hurried forward, ruffles flying and then grabbed Patience.

Patience reeled as she was enveloped in pink lace and lavender.

“A sister! Another sister!” the girl declared. “My life is complete.”

“This morning you said it wouldn’t be complete until you’d had a lover,” drawled Charles.

“Hush, Charles.” The girl frowned and pursed her lips. “That’s not helpful.”

“She said what?” roared Jack.

Patience blinked, feeling thrust into the center of a circus.

“I’m Lady Gemma,” the girl said cheerfully, “Charles’ sister and so you’re my sister, too. I always wanted a sister. Thank goodness Cordelia came along or I would have been the lone female in a field of men. But we are still absurdly outnumbered. She has as many brothers as I do. So, you’re very welcome in our ranks.”

Patience stood stock still, still embraced by the enthusiastic and loquacious young woman.

“Thank you,” she said at last. And she meant it for Gemma seemed positively genuine.

“You’re not having a lover,” Jack stated from behind Patience, as if he hadn’t heard Gemma’s entire speech.

“Shhh, Jack,” Gemma retorted. “You’ve no say in the matter.”

“I have,” he countered, his massive shoulders squaring. “I’m your brother. I’m the duke. I could send you to Switzerland to join a nunnery.”

“One, you’d never do that,” Gemma replied, propping a hand on her hip. “Two, mother would never let you. Three, I’d run away with the first handsome priest that came my way.”

More strangled sounds erupted from the brothers.

“Oh dear,” gasped Gemma, batting her long russet lashes. “I’ve shocked you, Lady Patience.”

Lady Patience patted Gemma on the back then pulled away slightly. “Not at all. I’m sure I’ve read a novel with that very plot.” She frowned. “If I haven’t, it must go in one of mine.”

“An author!” Gemma shouted. “Yes. I had heard. I haven’t read any of your books. I am the one person in the family who doesn’t care for fiction.”

“You don’t like to read?” That was not going to bode well for their friendship, even if the girl was lovely and kind.

“Oh, I do! But I am much for histories. I do like the theater, though.” 

A wave of relief washed over Patience. She was always suspicious of people who didn’t at least admire books. “I love histories and the theater and I must say, it’s nice to meet someone who hasn’t read my novels.”

“See!” Gemma gushed, a smile brightening her face. “We’re getting along splendidly already.”

“Gemma, you get along with everyone but thank you for being so generous with your welcome,” Charles said.

“I do not get along with everyone. A few of Cordelia’s brothers are very trying and that fellow who married the Duke of Aston and his wife, the American. Mr. Duke. He is most annoying.”

For some reason, it felt like a case of the lady doth protest too much as Gemma declared Mr. Duke to be so terribly annoying but Patience knew it to be very unwise to point such a thing out. At least, in their first meeting.

Patience frowned. “Do you mind if I sit down. It’s been a most exciting day.”

“Certainly,” said Gemma leading her towards one of the beautifully gilded and damask-covered settees before the ornately carved marble fireplace. Overhead hanged a portrait of another beautiful woman. This one clothed in the highly scandalous garb of the previous century. It did look like her ruby-colored gown was about to slip off her shoulders. It was already open at her bosom. In fact, she was certain Patience could spot a hint of rouged nipple.

Women still wore scandalous clothing that could sometimes be transparent but it didn’t look like it was going to spontaneously fall off these days.

Gemma plunked down beside her and took her hand. “You are marrying into a mad-capped family. You’re too good, marrying one of my brothers. But never fear, I shall be there to hold your hand.”

“Don’t drive her away, Gemma,” said Jack.

Patience was certain it was Jack, not just because of the shade of his coat but also because there was a certain lightness to him that Charles didn’t possess.

“No fear of that,” Patience quipped brightly. “Charles is my savior.”

“What a thing to say about him!” piped Gemma. “An absolute reprobate but I adore him. He’s always been absolutely wonderful to me. . .When he wasn’t teasing me mercilessly, of course. But surely you know what brothers are like.” 

“I am an only child.”

Patience met three sets of stunned eyes. Cleary, the three of them couldn’t imagine such a thing.

“You must have been terribly lonely,” said Gemma sympathetically.

Patience swallowed. She had been. Very. Especially after her parents had died. She gave her throat a quiet clearing. “How many siblings are there?”

“Well, there were five,” Jack said softly.

“But our eldest brother died,” Charles added gently.

“But four is still a good many,” Gemma cut in. “Our parents kept having children. Really, it’s a miracle there weren’t fifteen of us what with the way mama and papa—“

Gemma suddenly grew quiet, her eyes trained on Charles who was giving her a strange but clearly silencing look.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Patience said, unable to not say anything. “That must have been very hard.”

“Thank you,” said Charles. “It was.”

“He was the heir, our father’s favorite,” Jack said flatly but then he softened. “It was hard on the whole family but we survived.”

A dark shadow crossed Charles’ face. It struck her as very odd and she wondered if she’d ever have the courage to ask about it.

“He loved you, Jack,” Charles assured quietly. “Very much. Papa. . . Just. . .”

Jack nodded. “I know he suffered from melancholia. We all tried to help him.”

As she sat surrounded by the three siblings, she felt overwhelmed by the discourse but not in an unfortunate way.

Despite the misunderstandings there was something about them, about the way they interacted and cared for each other.

No one mentioned how their father had died and given the way they were all interacting, she felt certain that none of Charles’ family had treated him unkindly after such a horrific accident.

It was tempting to dwell on it and make inquiries, but now was not the time. Perhaps one day, she’d have the courage to ask about that as well.

“Brandy,” Charles said. “My bride looks pale.”

She lifted her hands in protest. “I’ve already had a great deal of champagne.”

“Ah,” said Jack. “Champagne is to excite your nerves. Brandy is to soothe them. My wife would insist on a dose for medicinal purposes.”

“And if I fall asleep on the rug?” she challenged.

“We shall tuck you in upstairs,” Jack said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “No doubt, knowing Charles has exhausted you. He does keep us all on our toes.”

The look Charles gave her at that precise moment was so hot, she knew that he planned on exhausting her but not in the way his brother had implied.

Charles was going to be keeping her up nights.

And she couldn’t wait.

Suddenly, she had a very good feeling that everything was going to be alright, after all.

Chapter 17

The wedding was a smashing success. The Dowager Duchess of Hunt had given out that Lady Patience and her son, Charles, had been engaged for some time and had been intent on announcing it before the news sheets revealed P. Auden’s identity but the announcements had all been mishandled.

They were, after all, quite proud to have an authoress in the family.

And because it was the Dowager Duchess of Hunt, the
ton
who might have been secretly skeptical, publicly believed her. After all, the Hunt dukedom had always been the most progressive of all the families. So, espousing an authoress really was no surprise.

They’d married at Westminster Cathedral with a shocking amount of people.

The Duchesses had all arranged it.

Patience, who was used to doing things herself, had, for once, allowed the women who ruled the
ton
to take over and ensure her future.

And because The Duchesses of Hunt, Darkwell, Aston, Roth and Blackburn had all given their adamant approval of her wedding, everyone had attended.

It was remarkable how one’s life could change veritably overnight.

Since the publication of her identity and subsequent wedding, she had gone from a forgotten spinster of the
ton
to the most talked about and
refreshing
young lady about.

It had been tempting to hide in the house before the wedding took place. She’d moved into the Duke of Hunt’s home for protection from the masses that were fascinated by her work, but she had not cowered.

Cowering was something she would never do.

Countless walks through the park with various members of her soon-to-be family and The Duchesses had made it clear that she was a veritable star, as much as any actress or opera singer to Londoners.

Her likeness had been published in the paper.

Much to her horror, Hyacinth had arranged that. The beautiful and skilled negotiator of complicated
ton
waters had assured her it was better if they controlled the information the news sheets and magazines published than if they said nothing.

Ignoring them was impossible.

And so, in very quick speed, she had published a pamphlet,
The Life and Times of Lady Patience, Secret Authoress
.

It had been an enormous success, read high and low alike.

Frankly, the presses couldn’t keep up with the demand.

Apparently, the fact that P. Auden was a woman, and not just a woman but a member of the nobility, was positively thrilling. So far, no one had dared to insinuate that the books were in any way less because of it.

Without a doubt, this was because of her powerful and now very public alliance with the Duke of Hunt and his brother.

Suddenly, it was all very real. Her marriage.

Not because of all the preparations and the actual ceremony or the party to end all parties this very day. No, it was because she was standing in Charles’ London home, with no fear of discovery, with no need of a chaperone, because she had every right to be there alone. With him.

As his wife. And as his wife, she was entitled to that part of life she’d thought to never have.