The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter Eleven

Tamsin pushed open the door to the count’s room as silently as possible. Only a crack at first, so she could spy inside and make certain he was asleep before she ventured inside. The hidden door that connected her suite of rooms to his would keep her safe from prying servants’ eyes, but nothing would keep her safe from him if he were to discover her prowling about in his rooms.

Nothing but darkness spilled from the room as she peered inside. No sound. Not even the rustle of bedding. Perhaps he had yet to come to bed. That would be lucky indeed. Though none of her other plans had unfolded so smoothly.

She should have known this one wouldn’t, either.

No sooner had she stepped foot inside his chambers than a strong arm grabbed her and hauled her back against a rock-solid chest, a hand covering her mouth.

She immediately fought, kicking and trying to scream, until she heard his voice in her ear.

“Herzogin?”

She cursed at him and threatened him with an extremely painful death if he didn’t let her go. Not that he could understand a word of it with his hand over her mouth.

His grip loosened, but not enough for her to escape his hold.

“If you scream, you’ll bring the entire household running, and then we shall have to explain why you are in my chambers in naught but your shift and robe.”

She froze again, belatedly realizing the arm beneath her fingers was bare. As was the chest she was pressed against. Her heart pounded, and she dragged in a ragged breath through her nose.

His hand slowly left her mouth, skimming across her until his fingers no longer touched her instead of simply lifting his hand away. She drew in one deep breath after another, but nothing seemed to calm the rapid beating of her heart. Though whether that was from being scared half to death or from being pressed against the ridiculously handsome, half-dressed annoyance otherwise known as the count in a darkened room, she didn’t know. Either way, one thing was clear…

“I have not screamed, my lord, nor will I do so. Yet still you have not released me.”

“My apologies,” he said, his lips a breath away from her ear. “I merely wished to ensure you were stable enough on your feet first. I would hate for you to trip and do yourself a harm in the dark.”

She pinched her lips together to keep from smiling. Not that he could see her in any case. “I assure you, my lord, I am quite steady.”

“Hmm,” he said, his chest rumbling against her back. “Do you wish me to release you, then?”

Not really, no. “Yes,” she said quickly before her inner voice could answer for her.

His arms finally released her, and she took a lurching step away.

The count moved to the table near the window and lit the candelabra, then dropped into the chair, seemingly oblivious to his state of undress. He watched her back away from him with a lazy smile that had her breath catching in her throat.

“What?” she asked.

He cocked an eyebrow. “It is you who have trespassed in my chambers, meine Herzogin. Not the other way around.”

She lifted her chin up a notch. “I didn’t know you’d be in here.”

Both brows lifted at that, and Tamsin sighed. That perhaps hadn’t been the best argument of her innocence.

“Are those mine?” he asked, pointing to the bundle of clothing she still clutched under one arm.

Her cheeks flamed. “I…I merely came to return them.” She tossed the bundle of shirts at him, and he looked through them, his forehead furrowed with confusion.

“I hadn’t realized they’d gone missing.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a second. “Yes, well, now they are not.”

He nodded slowly. “And what were you doing with them, Your Grace?”

The crooked smile he gave her had her pulse racing. She let out a defeated sigh. She’d been well and truly caught. Might as well confess.

“I was going to shorten all the cuffs.”

…

Christian stared at her, dumbfounded, for the span of a heartbeat. And then burst out laughing.

The duchess folded her arms across her chest with a huff.

“Oh, heaven help me,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. He grabbed one and threw it on when a sudden realization hit him, and his jaw dropped. “Are you the one to thank for all my trousers shrinking?”

She bit her lip again, and he huffed out another laugh and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with a sigh. He’d thought he was going crazy. Or eating a few too many of the cook’s pastries.

“Sit down, Your Grace,” he said, nodding to the other seat at the small table.

She watched him warily but did as she was bid. For once.

“Is that what all this has been about?” he asked. “Making me despise the country so I will agree to you returning?”

Her lips twitched. “Perhaps.”

He shook his head, chuckling soundlessly. How was he ever going to survive this woman? Or fill his days once he’d left her?

“Do you really wish to go to London so badly?”

Her gaze snapped to his. “Yes. I am now out of full mourning and can begin venturing out a bit more. I should like to enjoy what I can of the rest of the Season.”

He frowned slightly, not wishing to be unkind by reminding her that her presence was more tolerated than sought after.

“It is not so strange a request to spend this time of year in London,” she said. “In fact, it is rather more odd that I am not already there.”

That was true enough.

“I should think you would want me in London,” she continued.

“Oh?” he said, surprised. “And why is that?”

“You have already decreed you wish for me to find a new husband, which I will certainly not do here.”

“Those were not my exact wish—”

“Furthermore, you have stated repeatedly that as James’s mother, I must do what I can to ensure he is accepted and has a prominent role in society. And I hardly see how I can make that happen by hiding away in the country. It seems a foregone conclusion that I must therefore be in London. In fact, I am truly stunned you have not already suggested it. Quite the failure on your part,” she said, brushing a hand down her robe to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles.

His frown deepened the longer she spoke. “I still do not think it wise—”

“Now that I think more on it, I am truly surprised you are not already in London yourself. I believe Lord Feldhagen has mentioned that your uncle wishes you to find a wife?”

Christian’s eyes narrowed. Now she was treading on territory he had no desire to discuss. “That is not exactly true, and I do not see how that is any of your bus—”

“Business? Yet my marriage prospects are apparently quite the priority for you. Hardly seems fair, does it?”

He leaned closer. As usual, she held her ground. “I have never said any of this was fair, Your Grace.”

Her eyes searched his for a moment before she responded. “On that, at least, my lord, we can agree.”

“I do not want you in London,” he said, his eyes dropping again to her lips. Those soft, full lips that he found more and more difficult to resist tasting.

“I do not technically need to ask your permission, my lord, though I have done so out of courtesy.”

His gaze shot back to hers. “I could object to you taking your son.”

“You could,” she said, her eyes spitting fire at him. “Do you?” Only a slight tremor in her voice betrayed her emotion.

He sighed deeply. “No, I do not.” He’d like to. Just on principle if for no other reason. But he would never be that cruel. He rubbed a hand over his face. “But despite either of our wishes on the matter, I am tied to him through this guardianship. If your plans involve him, I would like to be consulted.”

She raised her chin in the air, anger, or perhaps frustration, radiating from her. But finally, she gave him a sharp nod.

“I find it ironic,” she said, standing to go, “that you are pushing me to do the very thing from which you are running.”

“I am running from nothing,” he said, forcing himself not to follow her.

She let out a short laugh. “Aren’t you? You are doing an admirable job seeing to my son’s estates, but if you were also to find a wife…” She shrugged. “Burying yourself in the country with a lone widow and her son doesn’t seem the most…expedient way to find a bride.”

Christian scowled. “I came to secure your son’s holdings and fulfill my duty as the guardian of both the young duke and his estate. The other is not a priority. There is time for it later.”

“Hmm,” she said, not bothering to hide her disbelief.

His eyes narrowed. “Our circumstances are very different, madam.”

“Yes, they are. I have already married and fulfilled my duty to produce an heir. And I have no obligation to do so again.”

He sucked in a breath at the woman’s audacity. How dare she— He rubbed his hand over his face again. How dare she what? Speak the truth? For that’s all she had done, even if it’s a truth he did not care for.

“You are a woman…” he started.

“I am aware, my lord.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the dry humor in her voice. But his eyes flickered briefly over her collarbone where her robe had gaped open. His jaw popped as he swallowed hard, suddenly wishing he had donned his own robe. Being there with her in the candlelight with so little between them was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. But he pressed on, taking no notice of her interruption and his own reckless thoughts.

“You may be wealthy and independent, but even so, would a man’s protection be so unwelcome? Your son is still very young, and he faces a prestigious but challenging future. Do you not want him to have the male guidance he needs to navigate his world?”

She stared at him for a moment, those deep brown eyes of hers searching for something in his own. “I thought that was why you are here, my lord,” she said quietly.

He leaned in even closer, their knees nearly touching, their heads only a few inches apart.

“I am here for you. For whatever you need of me.”

Her quiet gasp hit him right in the gut and sent his pulse racing. This was madness. He knew it. Yet he couldn’t resist the draw of her. When she stared at him like that, those big brown eyes of hers pulled him in and kept him captive.

And he only wanted more.

…

Tamsin’s breath quickened. Her anger toward the count still smoldered in her breast. At his high-handed manner, his insistence on keeping them from returning to town, at his presence at all.

A few weeks ago, she would have immediately answered that she needed him for nothing. But now, sitting there in the near-dark with him, so close…his words rang in her ears.

Whatever she needed…

She nearly closed the distance between them. Nearly gave in to the unfamiliar yearning that seemed to only grow stronger when he was near. Nearly…

She sat back with a gasp. What was she doing? She hardly knew this man, and yet there she sat, in his chambers at night, their lips only inches apart.

She couldn’t. It was too much to contemplate. That part of her life was over. And thankfully so. The last thing she wanted was another husband dictating her every move and…visiting her chambers in the hopes of siring an heir. She hadn’t welcomed the attentions of her late husband, though he seemed to try to make the ordeal as pleasant, or at least as quick, as possible for her.

But she had never felt any hint of the stirrings that she had just felt with the count, though he had been doing nothing but breathing her air.

“I…I should go,” she said, jumping up to hurry from the room.

“Your Grace,” the count said, his long strides catching up with her before she’d made it out the door. “Tamsin.”

She stopped in shock at the sound of her name on his lips and spun to face him.

His eyes roved over her, and she sucked in a shaky breath. He took a step closer and then stopped, drawing in a deep breath through his nose before releasing it in a rush.

“I propose a truce,” he said.

She looked at him warily. “A truce?”

“Yes. I will consider returning to London if you will agree to cease trying to persuade me with new and unusual punishments.”

She tilted her head with a slow smile. “That sounds less like a truce and more like a victory, my lord.”

His chuckle, the sound low and deep, had her drawing in a quick breath that she hoped he didn’t notice.

“I did not say I would agree to it, merely that I would consider it.”

“Then the most I can promise is that I will consider ceasing my efforts.”

He laughed outright at that. “Fine. I surrender. We shall return. But I ask that you give me a few days to gather what I need to bring with me.”

“Very well. As long as that few days doesn’t drag into a few weeks.”

“I give you my word.” He snorted. “In truth, it will be a relief to return. It will take months to remove the goat stench from the study.”

She grimaced. “I confess, I probably should have given that one more thought.”

“Hmm,” he said with a crooked grin that had her stomach doing somersaults.

“Then we have an agreement?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“Very well,” she said, taking his hand. “Agreed.”

She expected him to shake her hand and release it. But he didn’t.

His thumb brushed across the backs of her fingers, and the warmth of his touch spread through every part of her. When he raised her hand to his lips, she stopped breathing altogether.

Her mouth dropped open when his lips pressed against the back of her hand, and she tried to drag in a steady breath past her suddenly constricted air passage.

“I…I should leave you to your sleep,” she said, pulling her hand from his grasp.

“Good night, meine Herzogin.”

She kept her gaze locked with his a moment longer, and then she turned and left the room, the feel of his lips still lingering on her skin.

…

The moment the duchess left, Christian tossed on his robe and went straight to his study to pour himself a hearty helping of brandy. His backside had barely hit his chair before the door opened and Frederick sauntered in.

Christian groaned and took a sip of brandy before closing his eyes and laying his head back against the chair.

“Well, you’re in a fine mood.” Frederick chuckled, helped himself to a drink, and dropped into the seat opposite him.

“I thought you’d gone to bed,” Christian said, not bothering to open his eyes.

“So had I. But I heard you prowling around and thought I’d better see if the two of you had finally torn each other apart.”

Christian snorted. “We aren’t that bad.”

“Not yet,” Frederick said, leaning back and letting his arms dangle over the armrests. “Give it some time.”

Christian grunted.

“Arguing again?” Frederick asked.

Christian took another drink and sighed. “The woman has apparently been concocting the wildest schemes in order to persuade me to quit the country and return her to her precious London.”

“Schemes?” His brow creased in thought before his eyes lit with sudden clarity. “The quills? And dung?” Frederick said, his eyes widening. “Not…not the goats, too?”

Christian grimaced. “Yes, to all of the above.”

Frederick laughed and raised his glass to him. “Of all the women to try and tame, you chose the one with the active imagination.”

Christian glowered. “I am not trying to tame her. Merely…guide her. Though, in her opinion, I am most unfair, pushing her to remarry when I am running from marriage myself. And I’m overbearing, overprotective, and overstep my duties.”

When Frederick didn’t respond, Christian lifted his head and cracked open an eyelid. His friend was simply staring at him.

“My deepest apologies,” Frederick said. “Were you waiting for a protestation? It sounds like she was just pointing out the obvious.”

Christian grunted again. “You would take her side.”

Frederick chuckled. “There are no sides, mein Herr. But you know as well as I that she only spoke the truth. You are overbearing and overprotective. It’s part of your charm.”

Christian snorted.

“And neither of you wish to put yourselves on the marriage mart.” Frederick shrugged. “That is understandable. Neither of you wish to marry.”

“Correct,” Christian said.

“Or…”

Christian cracked the other eye at his friend’s tone. “Or?”

“Or you’ve both already found someone in whom you are interested.”

Christian lifted his whole head at that. “We’ve…what?”

Frederick sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I’ve known you since we were mere boys at our mother’s skirts, mein Freund. I have never seen you behave around a woman as you do around the duchess.”

Christian just snorted again. “Because I have never had the misfortune to deal with anyone as purposely aggravating as the duchess.”

“Ha! We both know that is a falsehood. I am well known for being as purposefully aggravating as often as possible.”

“You are not even in the same league as our dear duchess.”

“Well, I’m not disputing that.” Frederick gave him a knowing smile that irked Christian down to his very core. “But I’ve been watching the two of you the last several weeks. You cannot tell me there is not something between you.”

Christian took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Frederick wasn’t wrong. But he wasn’t right, either. Nothing would or could come of any fledgling feelings between them. “She’s too wary of me. Every interaction seems to end with her storming off in anger.”

Frederick laughed. “And at whose feet does that fault lie?”

Again, his friend saw more than Christian would like. Still. “My feelings, whatever they may be, do not matter. If I were to ever desire a union with the duchess, I do not think she’d ever trust my motives or intentions. She already finds my presence oppressive. She’d likely view a marriage proposal as merely a way to gain her son’s inheritance.”

“You are no poor stable boy. You hardly need to steal a child’s inheritance, and the duchess is more than aware of that fact. And your feelings on the situation do matter, my lord. Very much so.”

Christian snorted. “Do they?” He was quiet for a moment, not wanting to give voice to the worries in his mind. They came regardless. “Even if I were ever to entertain such an idea, my uncle would never approve. The marriage laws…”

At that, Frederick finally frowned. “A concern, yes. But she is a duchess.”

Christian shook his head. “By marriage. By blood, she is a commoner. It would not be allowed. My own parents—”

Frederick’s frown deepened. “Your parents’ situation was different. Your mother was the daughter of a mere noble. Her Grace is a duchess, even if that title came to her through marriage. You cannot know for certain that a union between you will not be allowed. Yes,” he said, holding up his hand, “I know the law. But her current status might give you the loophole you need. How many would look too closely at her ancestry? They would see only that the Graf von Rauchberg was marrying the Duchess of Clevesly. Even your parents were forgiven eventually, and your mother was made a countess in her own right.”

“Yes, years later, and only after my father’s death and my uncle’s failure to get an heir.”

“But it is still a precedent within our own house laws. It might be enough.”

Christian thought about that for a moment. It was unlikely but…possible. There would be certain members of court who would find whatever information about whomever Christian married for nefarious purposes, and that would be a problem. But as long as his uncle approved, there was little anyone else could say.

Still, he shook his head. The woman barely tolerated his presence. And no matter how badly Christian wanted to pin her against the wall and claim that delectable mouth of hers, he doubted she felt the same. At least, he doubted she’d ever act upon whatever she might be feeling. Not with him.

“She wants to go to London,” he said, his gaze flicking to his friend and then away again. That knowing look of Frederick’s was a bit too much for him at the moment. He wasn’t ready to examine his feelings when it came to the duchess.

Frederick lifted a brow. “Is that such an unusual request?”

“No,” he said. “Not that she requested. She’s merely been trying to terrorize me into agreeing since the moment we arrived.”

The other brow joined the first, and Christian scowled, which only made Frederick grin.

“Why does she not simply go? She’s under no obligation to obtain your permission,” Frederick pointed out.

“Legally untrue, at least where her son is concerned.”

“You’d never enforce that,” Frederick said, not an ounce of doubt in his voice.

“No. I wouldn’t.” He stared into the fire for a long moment. “Though I implied so…” Christian sighed, knowing his friend was right.

“Then why are you so out of sorts?”

Because he didn’t want her to leave. Not without him. But he wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

He leaned his head back again. “I don’t know. Perhaps because she’s made it her grand mission to ruin my peace of mind and home until she gets her way? In increasingly diabolical ways. Did you know,” he added, “she has been sneaking into my room every night to take in the waistband of my breeches? And was apparently going to move on to shortening the cuffs of my shirts. All in an effort to prove how easy it would be to get them fixed or replaced if we were in town.”

Frederick barked out a laugh, but Christian just groaned.

He stared at the ceiling for a few moments, then shrugged. “Perhaps I merely do not wish to go to London.”

Not that she wanted him with her, he was sure. But her going alone was not an option. The woman would probably have both herself and James on a ship to the colonies just for the sake of an adventure if he were not there to rein her in.

“Because life in the country is so diverting?” Frederick asked, his tone heavy with skepticism.

Christian lifted his head and glowered at his friend.

“Or,” Frederick continued, “is it because you have no wish to lose your duchess so quickly?”

“She is not my duchess.”

But she was. Meine Herzogin.

Frederick pursed his lips and nodded slowly with that knowing look of his, and Christian glared again.

“What of you?” Christian asked.

“Me? If you are going to London, so am I.”

Some of Christian’s irritation melted away with that statement. Frederick was always at his side, no matter what came their way.

“I am glad to hear it. But I was referring to you and the lovely Lady Kitty.”

Now it was Frederick’s turn to squirm. “What of her?”

Christian chuckled. “You may spend an inordinate amount of time watching all the minutiae of my life, my friend. But I watch you, too. And you have been disappearing every day, often gone for hours.”

“I go riding,” Frederick protested.

“Yes. Rain or shine. In the general direction of Wrothlake Park, where, according to the servants, Lady Kitty is currently in residence with her sister.”

Frederick actually blushed, which delighted Christian to no end.

“I…find her company pleasant,” Frederick finally admitted. “She is intelligent, amusing, and yes, quite beautiful. I enjoy spending time with her. Though…I do not wish to give her false hopes.” He fixed his gaze on the fire. “We are returning home in a few short months, and as it is not likely she’d be amenable to leaving her home and country to go with me, it would be wiser if I did not pursue her.”

Christian softly snorted, though he had another woman in mind when he said, “Since when did love ever have anything to do with wisdom?”

Frederick raised his glass again. “Hear, hear.”

He drained the rest of his brandy and set the glass down on the table. “Well, I hope for your sake your Lady Kitty will be returning to London shortly. Because it looks as though we will be departing as well.”

“Truly?” Frederick asked before pursing his lips and nodding. “So the duchess wins the battle, eh?”

“For now,” Christian said, striding toward the door. “If I keep her from town any longer, I may be out of clothes entirely.”