The Duke Wears Nada Page 6

  “Brothers.” Damian nodded once. “I have a favor to ask, and if you are interested, I shall be forever in your debt.”

  “Somehow, I suspected as much.” Lucien waggled his brows.

  “I am intrigued.” George smirked. “Does it have anything to do with a certain bespectacled Miss Lucilla Teversham?”

  “You know it does.” So his friends were not going to go easy on Damian. “I need you to secure a waltz with Lucy, but when the time comes, you will surrender the dance to me.”

  “Why do you not reserve your own?” Lucien inquired. “Or do enact some nefarious plot, which might hinder my interest, as I would never engage in spurious behavior.”

  “Do you really believe I am buying what you are selling?” Biting back another rapier retort, Damian surveyed the crowd and found a particular important person. “What say we make an even trade? I shall acquire a dance with Lady Celia, and we can exchange partners?”

  “What makes you think I care about her?” Averting his gaze, Lucien sniffed. “As I have not settled on a candidate for my future countess.”

  “Then I will take that bargain.” George chucked Lucien’s shoulder. “As Lady Celia is quite beautiful, has outstanding connections, and is rich as Croesus, not that I need her money, thus she would make an excellent viscountess.”

  “Do not even try it.” Lucien bared his teeth.

  George burst into laughter.

  “Gentlemen, can we focus on the task at hand, because I will make my declaration, in no uncertain terms, for all to see, and I rely on your cooperation.” Before the two erupted in fisticuffs, Damian inserted himself between them. “Can I count on you?”

  “Given we are Brethren, that goes without saying.” George peered at the quartet, which signaled the music was about to commence. “And since no particular lady has captured my special attention, I will simply surrender Miss Teversham into your care, although I might enlist your aid in running aground the widow Sheffield, as I find her rather delectable.”

  “Permit me to offer an invaluable piece of advice.” Damian spotted Lucy making the rounds with her aunt and uncle. “Your time and efforts are better spent in more serious pursuits, as such liaisons have nothing to recommend them, and I speak from considerable experience.”

  “Is that the way the wind blows?” Lucien appeared to have noted Lady Celia’s presence, and Damian recognized the befuddled, helpless expression. “Blake argues that all Brethren marry for love, but I am not so sure I believe him, especially after the difficulties my sister faced with Dirk.”

  “Therein lies the beauty of genuine relationships, though I must admit I never understood it, until I met Lucy.” As usual, whenever Damian mentioned her name, strange warmth filled his chest, and he ached to hold her. “But when love strikes a blow, let me assure you, resistance is futile. You may fight. You may run. You might even search out another, yet the one who claims you cannot be ignored, and your heart will call to her, despite your struggle, and in the end she will win.”

  The musicians marked the first waltz with a series of telltale strains, and he sought his lady. Winding his way through the throng, he veered left and then right, until his gaze lit upon her chestnut curls. When she spied him, she smiled, and he caught his breath.

  “Your Grace, I believe this is your dance.” With a flirty flounce, she laughed and accepted his escort. “I almost thought you reneged, as you avoid me tonight.”

  “Not, so, my dear.” She would learn otherwise, soon enough, as he took her in his arms and entered the rotation. “Might I beg a private audience, in keeping with our previous arrangement?”

  “How remarkable, as I sought the same audience.” She stiffened as they reversed course. “Your Grace, you hold me too tight.”

  “My apologies.” He loosened his grip. “I would never want to hurt you.”

  “You could never hurt me, and I am amenable to your request.” She averted her stare. “But I would not give society the wrong impression.”

  “And what impression is that?” As his thighs brushed her skirts, he winked.

  She bit her bottom lip. “I do not know.”

  “Oh, I think you do, because you are an unusually bright young woman.” Regardless of the dim light from the chandeliers, he noticed the charming blush in her cheeks. “What say you, my dear Miss Teversham?”

  “As promised, I yield, Your Grace.” How he liked the sound of that. “Perhaps, after dinner, we might gather in Blake’s study?”

  In that singular fragment of his life, everything he yearned for loomed within reach, the importance of which was not lost on him. Standing at attention, as the waltz ended, he was reluctant to let go; yet in a short while she would be his, forever.

  “That would be perfect, my dear Lucy.” And from thereafter, Damian hoped to call her much more.

  ~

  As Lucy toyed with the last remnant of a Shrewsbury cake, she studied her heretofore-imperturbable duke and wondered about his discomfit. On normal occasions, Damian presented an air of confidence mixed with a hint of male arrogance. Tonight, he seemed nervous and unsure of himself, given the elementary tactics he deployed at the ball and his constant fidgeting.

  “That was not fair, Your Grace.” Wagging a finger, she tsked. “You deliberately schemed with George and Lucien to trick me into favoring you with three waltzes, knowing full well the message that would send the ton and taking advantage of my lack of knowledge of such unwritten rules.”

  “Who enlightened you, and how can I make it up to you, dear Lucy?” The tone of his voice suggested something more than a mere apology. “Whatever you wish, know that I am yours to command.”

  “Lenore told me—after our last dance, which suggests she supports your cause, and I am doomed.” Tracing the gentle lines and curves of her crystal champagne glass, she met his heated stare, which seemed to touch her from top to toe, and gooseflesh covered her. “And I appreciate your cooperative frame of mind, as what I must ask of you requires uncommon forbearance and, I submit, the spirit of adventure and intimate exploration.”

  “I am intrigued.” In the blink of an eye, the dashing duke snatched her wrist and kissed the back of her hand, which inspired a host of whispers. “And why did you not tell me of your trip to Greenwich?”

  “Damian, stop.” Biting her tongue, she prayed for patience. In a low voice, she said, “We have garnered society’s scrutiny, owing to your brash behavior, which confounds me, because you have always been a levelheaded, gentlemanly sort.”

  “Not so, when I am with you, but you know that, too.” Ah, he flirted with her, and she adored him for it, because his playful demeanor gave her hope. “Now, answer my question, are you or are you not avoiding me?”

  “I am not avoiding you.” In fact, that was the last thing she wanted. “Since dinner is ended, and guests slowly return to the ballroom, I recommend you exit the main entry, and I shall slip away via the side doors.”

  “Why not depart, together?” With a somewhat predatory countenance, he waggled his brows. “Where is your courage, my lady?”

  “I know no such title, Your Grace. And the situation requires logic, not courage.” If only he maintained his accommodating nature, when they met in private. “And when my aunt and uncle inquired after a brief trip to Greenwich, I jumped at the chance, as I have nothing pressing to keep me here.” Pushing from the table, she draped her cloth napkin over her empty plate and then stood. “So there will be no more queries, and I shall meet you in five minutes.”

  Without pause, she marched through the massive dining hall, nodded acknowledgements to various notables, ignored the pointed perusal from certain gossipmongers, and suppressed the desire to flee. Instead, she held high her chin, moved slow and steady, and conducted herself with the poise and decorum one would expect of a well-bred woman of character.

  In the dark and narrow corridor, Lucy tiptoed, although she doubted anyone could hear her above the music and the crowd. In the foyer, she hugged the walls, in f
ear of discovery. When the long case clock sounded the late hour, she jumped and broke into a run.

  At the entry to Blake’s study, she grasped the knob, turned, and flung open the oak panel. Just as fast, Damian grabbed her about the waist, slammed shut the door, and kissed her.

  Whatever she planned to say escaped her, as he brushed his lips to hers, nipped at her flesh, and flicked his tongue. But before she could find her stride and join the passionate pursuit, he parted from her.

  “I have been wanting to do that all night, and you know how I love to fog your spectacles.” Spearing his fingers through his hair, he strolled to the opposite side of the room and leaned against the back of a chair, near the hearth. “Yet I dare not do more, else you will lift your skirts for me, here and now.”

  “Would that be so bad?” Since they were of like minds, she saw no reason to temper her response, which clearly caught him by surprise, given his open-mouthed expression of shock. “Since we are both consenting adults, and I know what you wish to discuss, what would it hurt were we to indulge in pre-marital relations?”

  “You cannot be serious.” In that instant, he paled. “Because that goes against everything I was taught.”

  “But you cannot pretend you remain a virgin, Your Grace, as we both know better.” Suddenly nervous, she shrugged and strolled to the fireplace, that she might study his reaction in the light from the blaze. “If you wish to wed me, then what we do prior to the official ceremony is our business, is it not?”

  “What of your honor?” To her dismay, her duke retreated a step and scowled. “While I will marry you, as I will have no other, I will not take you to my bed until the vows are spoken. And in private, it is Damian.”

  “Then we have a problem, because I cannot wed you until I know what I bring to our marriage bed.” Lucy swallowed hard. “I cannot stand at the altar and pledge to keep myself only unto you, when I may have already violated that oath.”

  “You refer to Sheldon and the possible assault, for which you are not to blame.” In a flash, his posture softened. “Sweetheart, whatever happened does not matter, as I want to make you my duchess, regardless of the circumstances.”

  “It matters to me.” She pressed a clenched fist to her chest. “I cannot build our life together on a foundation of lies, and the unknown torments me, such that I cannot move past it. But, perhaps, there is a solution, and you can help me find the answer.”

  “By well and truly ruining you?” Damian huffed a breath. “I would sooner cut off my—never mind, as that would defeat the purpose.”

  “Do you not understand you would be doing me an immeasurable kindness?” Around the desk, she gave chase, as he backed away from her. “Lenore recommended we summon Dr. Handley to perform an examination, but I cannot stomach the thought of letting a stranger determine something so personal, even if he is a physician. But you are my friend and, hopefully, much more. If you wish to be my husband, then when you do or do not claim my bride’s prize is irrelevant.”

  “Lucy, it is not that simple. In fact, what you suggest is ridiculous.” With a groan, he turned on a heel, stormed to a side table, lifted a decanter and poured a brandy, which he consumed in a single, impressive gulp. “There are countless activities that could have damaged the proof of your maidenhood.” Peering over his shoulder, he pinned her with a steely glare. “Does that make you any less innocent?”

  “I would have you answer that question, with certainty, before we marry.” Again, she neared. “Because I could not bear your derision, were we to wed without knowing the full extent of Sheldon’s crimes, only to have you discover, when it is too late, that I am not what you thought.”

  “There is more to you than what lies between your thighs. Would you be my whore, when I would make you my duchess?” With shoulders squared, he faced her. “I will not do it.”

  “On the contrary, I would be honest with you.” Just as determined, she met him, toe-to-toe. “Else I cannot accept what you offer.”

  “So I am to yield all that I am, to surrender my beliefs in order to engage in behavior, which may or may not reveal the answers you seek, that I cannot reconcile with my character?” He splayed his arms. “How can you ask that of me? Do you care so little for me?”

  “It is because I care for you that I must know what happened to me.” To her frustration, tears welled, and she dragged her sleeve across her eyes. “But more important, I need you to know and then to accept me, as I am.”

  For a while, they stood there, on the verge of some great impasse. The tension grew thick as London fog, and the mantel clock ticked the passage of time, as her heart pounded in her chest.

  “I want to marry you—that will never change.” Damian flexed his jaw. “But I am nothing without my honor, which is as much a part of me as my flesh, thus I cannot give you what you want until we speak the vows.”

  Dejected and devastated, at once, Lucy shook her head. “Then I cannot accept your offer.” Without a word, her dashing duke departed, and she collapsed on the floor.

  THE DUKE WEARS NADA

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sunlight cast a mosaic of vivid colors on the waters of the docks at Deptford, on a clear blue morning. As expected, His Majesty commissioned Admiral Edward Pellew, Lord Exmouth, to end piracy and liberate Christians in the Barbary States, given the end of the war with France freed British forces to focus on other pressing matters, with some of the Brethren acting as unofficial and unrecorded escorts to the relatively small fleet. For Damian, the mission could not have come at a worse time.

  Five days passed since he met with Lucy on that fateful evening, which left him disillusioned and wounded. After an initial sleepless night, he hoped she would summon him to Elliott House, and he waited all day for her directive, yet no messenger visited his home. At his station on the poop deck, as he prepared to cast off, from his waistcoat pocket he drew the betrothal ring he purchased just for her and studied the round diamond.

  “How are you, brother?” Blake ascended the companion ladder. “I truly regret that you could not join us for dinner, yesterday.”

  “You know, very well, why I could not dine with you.” Returning the bauble to its place, until he could figure out how to secure Lucy’s acceptance, he frowned. “And how do you think I am?”

  “In light of all I endured with Lenore, before and after our engagement, I believe I know, and I am so sorry.” Blake clasped his hands behind his back and strolled to the starboard rail. “And now you must guard Exmouth, as he exerts political influence, in the interests of the Crown.”

  “Yet, the separation might work in my favor, because I have no solution to the mess I have made of my courtship.” No matter how Damian approached Lucy’s request, he simply could not bring himself to agree to it. “By the by, felicitations, again, on the birth of your heir.”

  “Ah, he is an Elliott, through and through, and never have I been so happy, my friend.” Blake opened his mouth and closed it. Then he rested a palm to Damian’s shoulder. “Lenore told me what happened between you and Lucy.”

  “Then you know what she asks of me.” Agony twisted and tore at Damian’s gut, and he bent forward and leaned over the maps table. Focusing on the charts, he gritted his teeth against the pain. “Given our friendship dates to the cradle, you know I cannot give her what she wants, but I cannot abandon the dream. Help me, brother, as I am dying, inside.”

  “Bloody hell, you are in love with Lucy.” Smiling, Blake shook his head. “I would not have believed it, although I knew you harbored affection for her, but you exhibit every sign, and I am not sure whether to congratulate you or offer my deepest condolences.”

  “Are you such an expert?” Damian stretched upright. “And what would you suggest I do? Should I cede the fight?”

  “As the survivor of six grueling tours of duty in the consummate game of hearts before launching my own successful, albeit inelegant, campaign to win Lenore, I have learned a few things, over the years, which I would share with you.�
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  “I am all ears.” Bracing for the unknown, Damian planted his feet and folded his arms.

  “Surprisingly enough, it was Trevor who enlightened me while we were anchored in the Channel, as part of the blockade during the War of the Seventh Coalition.” Gazing at the sky, Blake narrowed his stare. “As I recall, he remarked that we love our mother, our friends, our siblings, our favorite brandy and cigars, and even our best hound. To be in love is a rare gift that requires an equally afflicted partner, to which I can attest. Despite my previous experience with women, Trevor asserted, quite accurately, that I never really tasted the passion manifested in Lenore’s embrace, savored the luminescence of her smile, or thrilled to the unfettered acceptance with which she gifts me, every day, no matter my faults, and I should like nothing more than to see you find that with Lucy.”

  “Yet, she rejects me.” Damian bowed his head. “And why do you school me in the nuances of emotion, when I am already mired in sentimental melodrama?”

  “That is incorrect, brother.” Blake wagged a finger. “You rejected her. And I merely try to make you recognize the lunacy of your tack. Given your temperamental state, you should know you fight a battle you cannot win, as love will have its way.”

  “Wait a minute.” Now Damian’s temper sparked. “Wait just a blasted minute. How did I reject her?”

  “Do you or do you not intend to do the honorable by her?” Blake inquired.

  “I do.” Indeed, on that account Damian never wavered, as he squared off against his friend.

  “Then what does it matter when you take her bride’s prize?” Blake shifted his weight and faced Damian. “If you plan to marry her, then the initial consummation is irrelevant.”

  “As you are just like me, I know, for a fact, that you did not breach your wife’s maidenhead until after you spoke the vows.” Damian clenched his fists. “Would you have taken that course with Lenore?”