The Duke of a Thousand Desires Page 9

  His potent kiss pierced her to the core, promising dark pleasures that threatened and tempted at the same time.

  “Ravenna?” he said, the hesitation in his voice penetrating her reverie.

  She sighed in wistful chagrin. She’d lost awareness of everything else except him. He reached down for the cushion at the same moment as did she. She drew upright, regarding him with all the poise she could summon. “Yes?”

  He propped the cushion back in place. “Don’t ask me to kiss you again today. There’s someone in the hall. Right outside the door, in fact. I don’t want to refuse you, but neither do I want to raise the wrath of the Boscastles.”

  She smoothed out the off-shoulder neckline of her dress and whispered, “We are engaged, Simon. Some misbehavior is to be expected.”

  14

  News of the sudden betrothal spread through Mayfair overnight. The duke owned no less than thirty-nine properties in the metropolis and vast acreage in Essex. That he would marry into London’s most popular family seemed a sensible union, even if no one had guessed a match was in the making.

  Society had been given little time to question his choice of bride. Lady Ravenna’s connections would have met the beau monde’s approval even if her dark radiance had not delighted the eye.

  She was not a classical English rose with her sultry looks and melodious voice, which she had notoriously raised in her cousin’s gardens. She was a little too full of life for a lady.

  Yet in a single evening she had fulfilled the Boscastle destiny for misdoing. More unspeakable exploits would surely follow the surprise engagement. The curious rooted for another delicious taste of gossip like pigs hunting truffles in a French wood.

  Carriages circled Heath Boscastle’s townhouse like raiding parties. As he hurried home through the light London mist, he glimpsed one vehicle after another slowing at his front door as if the passengers expected to witness -- well, a stranger’s guess was as good as his.

  “It’s been like this all morning, my lord,” his butler said as Heath entered the house.

  More concerning to Heath at the moment were the hushed voices coming from inside his study as he crossed the hall. Who had the gall to invade his sanctuary? His wife would not entertain in his quarters. Unless she was under the influence of her Aunt Hermia, an older lady whose well-heeled friends had a predilection for painting naked noblemen as Greek deities and auctioning off their scandalous artwork for charity. But hadn’t he heard Julia in the upstairs parlor with an unfamiliar woman before he left? Was a plot in progress to sketch the Duke of Rochecliffe? Was Julia having another gown made for Ravenna’s wedding?

  Whoever said that a man’s house was his castle could not have been married.

  He did not overreact. The physical and emotional torture he had survived as a light cavalry officer during the war had taught him the value of self-control. But, really, no one penetrated his study with impunity. Not even his lively Welsh cousin and the duke.

  Especially not Ravenna and the duke.

  Although he respected Simon and would ruthlessly help him unmask his enemy, Heath perceived that Ravenna had been the duke’s weakness longer than anyone had suspected. Simon might have been able to conceal his affection for Ravenna from others, but Heath scented smoke in the air whenever the two of them shared a look.

  In his room they could be sharing much more.

  He reached out to open the door. A soft hand obstructed his move. He glanced around into his wife’s face and forgot what he was about. She was his weakness, and his strength.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, her smile mischievous. “Leave them alone for a while.”

  “My cousin is inside that room, Julia.”

  “And she is with Simon, whom she will soon marry. Isn’t it better for a couple to become acquainted than to stand in the chapel as strangers?”

  “That depends on the couple. They are not strangers.”

  “Should I remind you what we did in a certain library before we were married? I shall give you a hint. We did not read to each other.”

  “Julia, that afternoon is etched upon my soul. I do believe my life began in that library. The memory of it sustained me in many dark, dark hours.”

  “You seduced me shamelessly. In front of all those books. I blush even to speak of it.”

  “You had shot me and were offering consolation, as I recall.”

  “Later you ravished me in a weapons room. I had not injured you on that day.”

  “If you insist on reminding me of those blissful times, I shall carry you back upstairs to give you another reason for complaint.” He took hold of her hand. “It occurs to me, however, that you have exploited my weakness, and that this entire conversation is a ploy to prevent me from doing my family duty.”

  She slipped around him and stood squarely at the door. “I have something to tell you before you ruin their romance.”

  He laughed in admiration. “Julia, please. May this wait a moment? It is too quiet in that room.”

  “But you are one of the quietest men I have ever known.”

  “Then you should understand why I find that silence to be alarming.”

  “Your reign of peace and quiet may soon be over,” she said, her cheeks bright pink. “You might have to grow more tolerant of disruption.”

  “There was a woman in your room,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “She sneaked upstairs while I was dressing. I assumed she had come to measure you for the wedding.”

  “She did come to measure me, Heath.”

  “What are you trying to say?” He stared at her, awaiting her reply as the door behind her opened.

  Julia stepped aside. Suddenly the duke appeared, his expression disingenuous, contrite. Heath reflected in annoyance that Simon looked as if he owned the house and was not expecting company.

  Then in the next moment Julia softly announced, “I am expecting a child. The midwife told me an hour ago.” She squeezed between him and Simon and set off down the hall. “I’m changing my dress and then I’ll ring for tea.”

  He pivoted to stare at her. “What did she just say?” he asked Simon blankly.

  “She’s expecting a child. I don’t know when it’s due. You might want to ask her. She’s changing her dress, and then we’re having tea. Congratulations. Well done, my friend. A child on the way, a family wedding. This is quite the year.”

  A warning frown wrinkled Heath’s brow. He turned reluctantly. “If you think that my wife’s news is going to distract me from the fact that you and Ravenna were sitting alone in my study -- ” He broke into an enormous grin, grasping Simon by the hand. “By God. We’re having a child.”

  An heir. A boy. A girl. Heath didn’t care. Not after years of hoping and of grieving three miscarriages. He had tried to convince Julia he was at fault. His body had been subjected to unspeakable degradation during captivity. She refused to blame him. He wasn’t supposed to know that in addition to the treatments of the finest physicians, she had secretly visited astrologers, green women and Romany herbalists in the hope of enhancing her fertility.

  Simon drew away from Heath. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be holding hands with me at a moment like this. I’d go to her now if I were you.”

  “I intend to,” Heath said acerbically. “And if I were you, I would take Ravenna into the drawing room for tea.”

  “I will.” Simon grinned.

  “And leave the door open this time.”

  15

  Even though Simon had promised Aunt Glynnis that he would attempt a courtship to respect her view of tradition, he was not a man to whom artifice came naturally. He was blunt. He brooded. He thought most of Society’s diversions too silly for words. He enjoyed sex, but there was only one woman he wanted to bed, and he would have to suffer until she was his wife. Therefore, he might not be an ideal suitor. Nevertheless, he would strive to be an accommodating one.

  His good intentions faced a test during Julia’s tea. He was mildly amused wh
en within the hour over twenty-seven missives arrived at the house. But he was aghast when Julia revealed that the bulk of the post was primarily comprised of invitations to various social functions and that these requests had been extended to include Lord Rhys, Lady Ravenna and, if he would deign to accept, the aloof Duke of Rochecliffe.

  “Aunt Glynnis will be in heaven,” Ravenna said, her winsome smile making Simon conscious of his propensity to scowl.

  “I don’t think this is the time to spread your wings,” he said, holding his coffee in one hand and the unfolded letter Julia had passed him in another. “A boat race on the Thames? No, thank you.”

  “I adore boating,” Ravenna said.

  “I have a flotilla of boats,” he said. “We can race each another. Isn’t that right, Heath?”

  Heath was at his desk, studying an almanac and calendar. Presumably he was more interested in forecasting the weather on his heir’s approximate natal day than in Simon’s river fleet. He did not answer.

  “I can’t turn down a supper with the Earl and Countess of Avonbrook,” Ravenna said as she scanned another invitation over Julia’s shoulder.

  “Never heard of them,” he said.

  “And a dance at Grosvenor Square? You can’t swaddle me in wool, Simon, nor keep me in a box. I rarely had a chance to dance at the castle, except with my brothers for practice. I refuse to let a coward in a walnut tree intimidate me.”

  “There will be other parties.”

  “There won’t be another chance to woo me. What of my wedding trousseau? Does a duchess not need decent clothes? Won’t it offend you if I wear the bridal gown that David chose for me?”

  “You can stand at the altar in a coat of armor for all I care.” From the looks she and Julia gave him, he might have said Ravenna could stand beside him in the buff. He hastened to add, “But if a new wardrobe is that important to you, I’ll employ as many seamstresses as you will need to work at the house. I did promise to spoil you.”

  Julia’s cheerful voice intervened. “Should I ring for some fresh poppy cakes? They’re awfully good, but mind you the seeds lodge between your teeth. Simon, are you visiting the museum with me and Heath?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen the museum a dozen times.”

  “I haven’t,” Ravenna said. “It isn’t a dangerous place, is it? Give me your unbiased opinion, Julia. Your life was threatened in the past. Is it reckless of me to want to see an exhibition? To attend a dance?”

  “It could be,” Simon interrupted. “A person could easily sneak up on you when you’re engrossed in a work of art. Look what happened to me and Achilles.”

  “Please don’t involve me in this,” Julia said, and then proceeded to involve herself. “I can’t see the harm in it, to be truthful.”

  Simon caught himself in mid-scowl. “Am I outnumbered, Heath?”

  Heath glanced up, his soft chuckle proof that despite his seeming inattention, he hadn’t missed a word of the conversation. “My wife counts as two, and it would seem you are. Sorry about that.”

  “It isn’t as if I’ll be able to dress in my sheer silks and waddle to the museum for long,” Julia said happily over her tea cup. “I shall be confined soon enough.”

  Simon surrendered, accepting that this was the first of many battles he would lose to his bride-to-be. He hid a grin at the prospect of the pleasant conflicts to come.

  Within the hour they had bundled into Heath’s black carriage and traveled to the museum on Great Russell Street under clearing skies.

  Heath took Julia and Ravenna off to ooh and aah at the antiquities. As Simon passed in the shadow of a nude Roman statue, he thought of Grayson’s damaged Achilles and vowed he would not let down his guard.

  This was not the easy duty he’d expected. At this hour scores of visitants packed the popular museum. He followed Ravenna closely, studying a bronze burial sculpture with less enthusiasm than he did her voluptuous figure. She was curvy and alluring and filled him with delicious longing. She had trembled in his arms today when he kissed her. The heat of wanting her still gnawed deep in his belly.

  It struck him that Heath was at once cognizant of his surroundings and attentive to his expectant wife. He claimed Julia’s elbow as they descended the sunlit stairs. Simon envied their long-time intimacy and anticipated escorting Ravenna with a similar familiarity. In his mind she was the only treasure he could appreciate. He knew her history. He fully intended to be her future.

  “I so enjoyed myself,” Ravenna said upon their return to Heath’s carriage. “Thank you, all. That wasn’t bad, was it, Simon?”

  “It was more than tolerable.”

  She adjusted her beribboned silk hat so that she could peer out the window. “The best part of it was that we kept our vow to my aunt. We did not cause a scandal.”

  That, Simon thought, was because he had kept his instincts under lock and key. He was tempted to remind her that he had been on his best behavior and what he was thinking was scandalous enough. Then she raised her hand to the window and gave an audible gasp, pushing seduction to the back of his mind.

  “What is it?” he asked, sitting upright. “You’ve seen someone. Something. Shall we stop the carriage?”

  She closed the curtain, her eyes as dark as midnight. “It was nothing. No one.”

  Simon leaned over her and stared outside. “It was more than nothing. Did you recognize someone in the street?”

  Heath tapped on the roof with his walking stick. The vehicle lurched to a halt.

  Ravenna shook her head. “It looked like David turning the corner in a curricle. But I’m not sure.”

  “Didn’t Simon and Rhys persuade him to leave the city?” Julia asked.

  “Yes,” Simon said tersely.

  “I was undoubtedly mistaken,” Ravenna said in a small voice.

  Simon felt a scowl tighten his face. “For his sake, I hope you were. Perhaps I should pay a visit to his residence tonight. I should find it empty.”

  “Promise me there will be no bloodshed,” Ravenna said.

  “Fine.”

  “Or violence.”

  “I shall promise nothing of the sort,” he replied indignantly.

  “Please, Simon.”

  His mouth hardened. “Don’t ask me to make a promise I cannot keep. If the cabbage-head is fool enough to seek you out, I will intervene.”

  “That sounds fair to me,” Heath said after a silence. “After all, he gave our family offense and has been ordered to leave London.”

  Simon should have known that any man who was stupid enough to gamble with a lady’s heart would not be wise enough to heed a warning.

  He left Ravenna in Heath and Julia’s care. Then he returned to his North Audley Street home to discover his estate steward and man Friday, Niles Timpkins, pacing in the entry hall.

  “Your grace,” Timpkins said in agitation. “There is a brash gentleman in the drawing room who claims to be Lady Ravenna’s fiancé. He insists on an audience with you. Shall I dispose of him?”

  Simon continued past the manservant with a grim smile of appreciation. Timpkins was a bit on the brazen side himself. He was also indispensable and loyal to a fault. His handsome countenance drew the ladies, but he had yet to find one who had tempted him from service. He believed that he belonged to the dukedom.

  “Let me deal with this,” Simon muttered. He was unsure whether Ravenna felt any affection for this embarrassment to the male sex.

  Not astonishingly Sir David stared him straight in the eye when he entered the room -- as if to blame Simon for their reversal of roles. “Your grace,” he said with a reluctant nod of respect. “It is an honor.”

  “Not for me,” Simon returned with a condescending smile.

  “I should have guessed Ravenna would not be discreet about the incident at the party.”

  “Why would she? You showed all the discretion of a goat at Grayson’s affair.”

  “That was a misunderstanding. The other lady and I were merely involved in a he
ated discussion.”

  “Heated is the word. And I understood completely. I was there at the party with a pair of opera glasses.”

  “Spying on your peers is not polite.”

  “You’re in no position to lecture anyone on manners. And you are not my peer.”

  “What were you doing there alone at night?” Sir David asked suspiciously. “Anticipating a duel with a rival? I wasn’t the only guest who heard a gun go off in the garden. Did you kill someone? Was his body spirited away by the benevolent Society of Boscastle?”

  “Funnily enough I heard a similar theory espoused last night. You played the corpse.”

  “Good gracious.”

  Simon had promised Ravenna he would not resort to bloodshed. That did not rule out other means of elimination. “If I had a gun,” he said, “I would have widened the crease between the blindingly white cheeks of your arse.”

  “My -- my what?”

  “You know the place. It’s where your head is evidently lodged. Any man who can’t keep his tadge in his trousers when he can be seen by all and sundry -- any man who would betray the lady he professed to love, with another’s wife -- well, you are a waste of skin.”

  Sir David backed away, his mouth agape like a fish drowning in the scum of his own pond. “But – I -- I want another chance. Christian forgiveness.”

  “Go to church. First you betray an enchanting woman at her cousin’s party. Then you have the brass to confront the man who has been forced to repair the harm you inflicted.” It made Simon cringe to imagine Ravenna sharing this mutton-head’s name, his bed. She’d been brave and wise to break their engagement.

  “I do not follow you,” Sir David said.

  “I don’t expect you to understand. Should I simplify my speech? You. Stupid. Lost. Woman. You deserve to be thumped into oblivion. To my regret, Ravenna has requested that I don’t spill your pallid blood. You have caused her enough misery.” Simon exhaled. “Just go quietly. Leave my sight. Leave London. I want to hurt you in vile unspeakable ways. Get out. Go in peace, or, if you insist, in pieces.”