Not Quite A Duke (Dukes' Club Book 6) (19 page)

Whilst she lay back on the counterpane, he pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor.

Then he undid his breeches.

Her eyes devoured his every movement and her curiosity drove him half-mad.

“Come here,” she said.

“I am not yet unclothed,” he protested playfully.

“I find I cannot wait,” she replied.

“Whatever you wish.”

“I like that.”

“Good. I like it, too.”

He climbed onto the bed and braced his arms on either side of her. “This is what you wish?”

“This is what I wish.”

Unable to wait, he slid his cock free from his breeches and placed it between them.

Her eyes widened as he slid the head up and down her hot core.

She arched against him, instinctively knowing what she needed.

He could delay this. He could pleasure her for hours before he took her. . . But he didn’t think that’s what she wished. It certainly wasn’t what he wanted.

A need to claim her surged through him and he rested his cock against her opening. He gazed down into her stunning, intelligent eyes and thrust home.

Because that was what she felt like.

Home.

It was an alarming feeling. One which he quickly shoved away as he thrust deep inside her.

She groaned and locked her legs around him with no urging.

Lady Patience had found her sensual courage and he adored it.

Tossing her head back and forth, cries of need came from her lips as he thrust again and again before she at last begged, “Please, Charles. I need— I need—“

He knew exactly what she needed. He needed it, too. With a desperation he’d never felt before.

He moved his hand to that secret spot of hers and circled his fingers as he drove hard into her core.

A wild cry burst from him as she arched her back and held on to him with the intensity of one about to be lost.

When the pleasure ebbed, he struggled to gain control of his breathing.

In all his life, he’d never felt so completely undone by a woman.

Carefully, he lowered himself. He rolled to his side and pulled her up against him. He buried his face into her hair, savoring the feeling of her presence in a way he’d never let himself do before. He held her tight, wishing there to be no space between them at all.

She wrapped her hands around his and sighed with contentment.

This was to be the first of many such nights. Of that he was sure. Lady Patience would meet him in terms of passion.

And he was the luckiest man alive to have found a woman like her who had taken him just the way he was. Truly, he was lucky. There was nothing to fear. Not even that she seemed perfectly content, for him to not devote himself to her at all. Yes, everything was going to be splendid. Perfectly splendid.

Chapter 19

Years of habit could not be overridden by one night of passion. Or at least it shouldn’t have been. Charles was not a morning person. He had never been a morning person, unless one counted
staying up
to see the morning. But Charles had not been able to sleep long after he had decamped to his own room.

He refused to admit it was because he’d forgotten that married couples didn't share a bed for anything but coitus. As a matter of fact, it was very odd for married people to share a bed. Charles had his room. She had hers. He would visit her when he chose. And he was determined to be a good married husband.

It was damned annoying because he’d wished to stay. To hold her in his arms all hours. To sleep with her body coiled against his. But he hauled himself up and out as one was supposed to do.

Supposed to. It wasn’t a phrase to which he usually succumbed. But he wanted to be a good husband. And that was what husbands did.

He had stayed in her bed until the first rays of dawn had touched the floor. Then he had quietly slipped away.

Now, he found himself in his own foyer, the hour painfully early, in desperate need of coffee. Rather than post-coital bliss, he felt irritation. Irritation that society had inhibited his desire.

So, he stumbled, not quite as groomed as he should be, but unable to face full dress at this hour, to the breakfast room.

It was quite possible that nothing would be ready yet but he’d ordered a large pot of coffee and toast, read the paper. . .

He stopped in the doorway.

Patience sat in a chair at the end of the table, her hair curled and pinned atop her head. Her gown, unlike her gowns before, was a delightful rose day frock. One hand was aloft, a cup of steaming liquid in it and the other clutched a large leather book.

Her eyes squinted slightly as she read the page.

She was the picture of deep concentration.

Her lips teased into a smile as she read a pleasing passage.

Charles leaned against the door frame, silent, suddenly feeling in a much better humor at the sight of his wife already awake.

Imagine, he was about to break fast with his wife!

Who would have ever thought such a thing?

Not he. But he couldn’t dismiss the feeling of delight suddenly warming him because he liked Patience. He liked everything about her.

He got so much pleasure simply looking at her so deeply entranced by something he enjoyed.

As she read, she sipped her coffee, put the cup down, then blindly reached for her toast. . . Her hand nearly ending up in the marmalade.

He grinned then.

“Good morning,” he said.

She startled and then her cheeks bloomed. “Good morning.”

He ventured in, surprised by his own reticence. How would she respond after last night?

It was tempting to shuffle to his chair, but that would hardly be the act of a lover. . . Then again, he wasn’t a lover. He was a husband. Even so, he couldn’t resist crossing to her, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“How fare you this morning, wife?”

Her brow furrowed as she gazed at him quizzically, her lips plump. “Well, husband. And you?”

“I do exceptionally well but will do far better after coffee.” He then plunked himself down and poured himself a cup from the silver service.

“I’m glad you serve coffee,” she said.

“It’s very bold of you to drink it.”

She laughed. “Too true. Tea is lovely, but coffee is the nectar of the gods. I know it’s a bit adventurous and a manly drink but I find it fuels my mind.”

He nodded. “Can’t face the day without it, myself.”

“Then we are two of a kind.”

As he savored the rich scent of the coffee, he paused. Yes. Yes, in many ways, they were two of a kind.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

“Nothing that would interest you.”

He tsked. “How prejudiced.”

She blushed. “You’re correct. Do forgive me. I’m simply not used to others enjoying what I enjoy.”

He gestured towards the book. “Then?” 

“
Pamela
.”

“A wonderful novel,” he said. “I’ve read it several times.”

“Several times?”

“I do love a good read and, if you must know, I don’t sleep a good deal. So, when I’m not being a notorious rake, I sit in my library.”

“Library?” she echoed.

“You haven’t explored the house?”

“No.”

For some reason, he pushed back from the table, coffee in hand. “Come.”

She gaped at him then seemed to decide it was worth following him.

So, he waited by the door, allowed her to exit into the hall then guided her to the cavernous room in his massive home that was his pride and joy.

She entered in silence, like a worshipper entering their church.

He cradled his coffee which he had taken with him. “You like it?”

She turned slowly, her long rose skirts swirling about her legs. Turning up her head she stared at the shelves which stretched down the long room.

He’d collected hundreds of books on dozens of subjects in many languages.

“A marvelous collection,” she breathed. “Did someone assemble it for you?”

“No. I collected each book. They are my favorites.”

Her brows lifted. “You’ve read them all?”

He nodded.

“Charles. . . You are full of surprises.”

“If you like this library, you must see the one at my club.”

“You have another library?” she asked, apparently amazed.

“Yes.”

“And you openly own a club?”

“Openly?” He frowned. “Not exactly, but I own it and manage it myself which I know is very shocking. If I don’t keep occupied I. . . I don’t do well.”

“I see. It is good to know yourself so well.”

“Thank you.”

“Could I see your club?” she asked.

“The library?”

“Yes. That. But I’d like to see the club, too, since you manage it.” She drew in a quick breath. “Ah. It’s men only, is it not?”

“It is.” He considered. “But it’s mine. So, we must go.”

“Must we?” she teased lightly.

“Indeed, we must.”

She glanced down before saying, “I’d like to know what you enjoy and what you do.”

It felt dangerous and yet thrilling to introduce her to such parts of his life.

“And I’d like to know the same about you.” And for the first time in his life, Charles knew that he did wish to know about someone and to allow them to know about him.

***

M
uch to Patience’s surprise, Charles had suggested she pay call to the Duchess of Roth. It had surprised her that he should so specify one of The Duchesses. But he had been fairly adamant and she was curious.

So, she stood inside another massive London townhome with gilded walls, high ceilings, paintings, and wall hangings that boggled the mind what with their color and importance.

After waiting but a few moments, the Duchess of Roth entered, her red hair a riot, but pinned into semi-submission about her face.

Her soft yellow, gown fell in dandelion folds about her lithe, rather boyish, body.

It was a bit surprising how young the duchess was. Perhaps twenty? But there as a determination to her step and sharp intelligence to her gaze.

The duchess gestured to an embroidered seat. “It’s a pleasure to see you Lady Eversleigh.”

It was still so strange to hear the title but she nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Are you here for a visit or with some purpose in mind?”

The duchess’ frankness stunned her. Most would circle about a conversation, discussing the weather until it felt appropriate to speak of anything specific.

“If you must know, I’m not certain,” Patience confessed. “Of course, I enjoy the possibility of your company but my husband suggested I call on you. You, specifically. He was rather insistent.”

The Duchess of Roth laughed. “I think I know why.”

“Do you?” It would be a relief if she did because Patience felt confused by the way Charles had almost chased her into the coach urging her the whole way to seek the duchess out.

“I’ve read your books.”

“Thank you.” She was always a little unsure what to say when someone said this.

“You seem particularly concerned with the state of women’s affairs.” 

“I am. What woman isn’t?”

“Many.”

“I suppose it was naive of me to say.” Patience folded her hands. “If all women were concerned, I wouldn’t need to write about it.”

“Exactly so,” agreed the duchess. “I feel passionately about the unjust nature of the world and specifically our society towards women. I am an advocate for them and I have several establishments now around the city, dedicated to assisting women of all walks of life to find safety and betterment for themselves.”

“I see.” It was tempting to gush but she couldn’t. In her research, she’d found many a society that was meant to help women which was, in fact, dedicated to shaming them and stripping what dignity they had away.

“From your face, I know you are doubtful of me.”

“Forgive me. It’s just—“

The duchess held up her hand. “You’ve seen unpleasant places, have you not?”

“I have.”

Smoothing her gown, the duchess explained, “Mine are not houses in which judging ministers can castigate women and berate them for their behavior. Would you care to visit? To perhaps assist?”

“I would. Of course.” In actuality, it was perfect timing. “I’m writing a novel now about a fallen woman.”

“Are you?” the Duchess of Roth exclaimed, her eyes widening.

“Yes.” Patience sighed. “I do wish there was a better term. I dislike unfortunate almost as much as fallen.”

“There is not a good term.”

“No.”

The duchess nodded firmly. “It would be wonderful to have P. Auden’s support.”

“If I find I can, I will.”

“Wonderful.” Standing, the duchess went to the bell pull. “Shall we go?”

“Now?”

A smile brightened the younger woman’s face. “Is there a better time?”

Patience laughed. “No. No, there isn’t.”

And suddenly, she liked the Duchess of Roth very much. And she liked Charles even more for insisting they meet. To her astonishment, as the Duchess of Roth tugged on the bell pull rapidly, apparently as determined as a whirling dervish, she realized that Charles knew her very well. He hadn’t had to hesitate or give much consideration to assisting her to find purpose in her life as his wife and as P. Auden. Much to her amazement and with Charles’ aid, the two were beginning to merge.

A smile pulled at her lips and she followed the Duchess of Roth, her heart lighter than it had been in years.

Chapter 20

Absolutely nothing was splendid. Nothing at all.

Charles had known that his wife was going to be embraced by the
ton
but it hadn’t occurred to him that such a thing would mean he never saw her.

In the last week, she’d attended teas, routs, afternoon calls, rides in the park. Really, every female social engagement that was possible had appeared in his wife’s calendar. In addition to this, she’d been giving appearances at the various bookstores throughout the city, speaking about her novels. She’d also become deeply involved with the Duchess of Roth and her projects as he knew she would. Patience was a capable and passionate woman who had only needed an outlet outside of her books to take her into the world.