The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter Fourteen

Tamsin took a sip of the champagne that Nigel handed to her and watched everyone spinning on the dance floor. She longed to be out there with them. But attending the ball at all was already pushing the boundaries of her half-mourning. And she’d only done so because it was a rather small event as these things went, hosted by very good friends of her very good friends. She had no wish to set tongues wagging more than they already did about her. So she would sit in the corner in her lovely but tastefully understated dove-gray gown and enjoy being around other people again.

“Don’t look now,” Nigel said with a grin, “but your overly attentive count is glowering in our direction.”

Tamsin stole a peek and had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. The count, being an attractive new foreign noble, was naturally surrounded by a gaggle of eligible maidens and their mamas. He was speaking politely enough to them as far as she could tell. But he kept his gaze on her and Nigel. Their eyes met briefly, and she moved ever so slightly closer to Nigel and pointedly looked away from the count.

Nigel chuckled. “If I had known how fun it was to be a counterfeit suitor, I’d have offered to do it earlier.”

Tamsin laughed. “But I didn’t know I needed you earlier.”

“Hmm, true. Though I do not think our ruse has worked. Aside from a raised brow or two, there has been no hint of gossip that we may be courting. Not that I wish for you to suffer any ill will because of it, of course.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

“But I must say,” Nigel said, his brow crinkling, “the fact that no one has remarked upon our supposed infatuation—aside from your count—rather stings. I think it hurts my feelings that nobody takes me seriously as a suitor.”

“Oh, surely that is not the case. It must be because you are such close friends with Lavinia, Kitty, and Georgie, and by extension me, that no one thinks much of seeing me in your company. I’m sure you’d make a wonderful match for a very lucky lady out there. In fact, if I weren’t so set on staying a happy widow for the rest of my days, I’d be tempted myself.”

He looked at her skeptically. “You’re just saying that to assuage my wounded pride.”

She laughed again. “Possibly. But that doesn’t make it untrue. And perhaps people just aren’t used to seeing you in that role. You aren’t exactly known for wanting to settle down.”

Nigel sighed. “Yes. My reputation doth proceed me, doesn’t it?”

“A bit,” she said with an encouraging smile. “But perhaps our little charade can accomplish two tasks at once. Give Lord Rauchberg exactly what he asked for. And paint you in a more…domestic light.” She cocked a brow at him. “Assuming that is what you would like?”

Nigel was quiet for a moment. “If you had asked me that a few months ago, I would have bolted from the room and been on the fastest ship to the Continent.”

“And something has now changed? Has some beauty caught your eye?” Tamsin already had an idea who that woman might be, but if Nigel didn’t wish to share his feelings, she wasn’t going to do so for him.

He seemed troubled for a moment, but then his face cleared, and he smiled down at her. “The only beauty I see tonight is you.”

Tamsin shook her head but aimed an indulgent smile at him. “You are certainly charming when you wish to be, Lord Bainbridge.”

“Alas,” he said with a sigh. “You seem to be the only woman to think so.”

“I would linger longer, but I wouldn’t want to cause too big a scandal with you still in mourning,” he said with a smile. “However, I will keep up my pining glances and longing sighs for the rest of the evening whenever I spy the count watching and circle back around to chat with you at least once an hour.”

Tamsin laughed again. “You are a good friend, my lord. You have my eternal thanks.”

Nigel bowed deeply and moved away.

He had barely done so when the count took his place. He didn’t ask for the dance or so much as look at her dance card (which naturally didn’t have another name on it but had been too pretty to not take as a keepsake). He simply took her hand and led her onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” she whispered to him, tugging gently on her hand. “I mustn’t.”

“I will tell everyone it was my fault and that you were simply trying to be a good host for the poor foreigner who did not realize he was committing a social faux pas.”

“That will be certain to waylay the gossip,” she said drily. “Not to mention…” She flipped open the fan-shaped dance card hanging from a braided cord around her wrist and glanced at the painted and gold-embossed fan leaves, which were embarrassingly bare of partners’ names. “I do not see your name, my lord,” she muttered.

He glanced down at her with that exasperated look that he always seemed to sport in her vicinity.

“Very well, then.” She pulled the tiny gold pencil from the fan’s guard stick and wrote Graf von Rauchberg on one of the leaves.

“That hardly seems necessary,” he said with a scowl.

“Neither does you hauling me onto the dance floor without so much as a by your leave .”

His frown deepened. “It was either dance or haul you out onto the balcony. I assumed you’d prefer the dance.”

She raised her brows. “Your assumptions are rarely correct. One would think you’d have learned that by now.”

Of course, in this case, he had been right. Being hauled onto a balcony by the mysterious and seemingly perturbed count would have caused a level of gossip she had no interest in acquiring. But he need not know that.

“And to what do I owe your brooding presence?” she asked.

His lips remained pinched together for a couple turns in the dance until they came back together. “I thought we had discussed the unsuitableness of Lord Bainbridge.”

Her mouth dropped with a quiet gasp. “There is nothing wrong with poor Lord Bainbridge. Really,” she huffed, “you’d think I was being courted by a murderous criminal the way everyone is going on about it.”

The count snorted. “If everyone feels the same way, then perhaps you should listen.”

She glowered up at him. “We have had this conversation, my lord.”

They spun away from each other, weaved in between several other couples, and then came back together.

“Lord Bainbridge is young, amusing, very handsome, a dear friend, and fabulously wealthy, and more importantly, interested. By all accounts, a wonderful match.”

The count’s grimace deepened. “He’s also unserious, immature, and showers his attentions on too many women.”

Tamsin rolled her lips between her teeth to keep from smiling. “Perhaps he just hadn’t found the right woman. Until now.”

The count’s face turned red, and Tamsin had to bite her lip this time to keep her laugh in. It was her first true social outing since entering her half-mourning period, and while it was merely a small dance hosted by some close friends of Lavinia’s, it still wouldn’t do to appear in too good of spirits. She’d been so careful to follow every guideline and unspoken rule to perfection. Her gown was a beautiful dove gray with simple accents of black velvet cords. Her jewelry was tasteful and simple. She’d kept her demeanor genial and polite but not overly exuberant. Had it been a larger function, she wouldn’t have come at all. And especially would not have been caught chatting with an eligible gentleman. She couldn’t afford mistakes.

The count, however, was making that extremely difficult. If he went through any more facial contortions, she could not be held responsible for her laughter.

Their steps kept them apart for a few moments, but the second she was back in his arms, he continued. “The man is unsuitable and…too far below your station.”

She blinked up at him. “He is a viscount and the heir to an earl. And, as you continuously remind me, I am merely the daughter of a merchant.”

“You are much more than that, meine Herzogin.”

His nearly growled words, his possessive claiming, set her body to trembling.

She cleared her throat, trying to remain in control. “Yes, well, we can’t all marry a prince or a duke, my lord. There are only so many of those around, you know.”

He opened his mouth but snapped it shut again with another glower.

“Besides, I’ve already married a duke,” she said quietly. “If I do decide to marry again, I would like to marry for love, not status.”

For the first time since he’d dragged her onto the dance floor, his expression softened. “I can’t fault you for that,” he said. “I merely wish to caution you against choosing someone who may not have your happiness utmost in his mind.”

Her heart warmed, but she smiled sadly. “My happiness has never been requisite for any man.”

The music ended, and she turned to make her escape, but his hand beneath her elbow prevented that.

“I did not mean to upset you,” he said.

She gave him a soft smile. “You did not, my lord.” She stepped away, and this time he let her go.

Instead of going back to the chair in the corner where she’d planned on watching the festivities for the rest of the evening, she made her way around the edge of the ballroom to the terraced doors that led out to the gardens and stepped through. The cool air hit her overheated cheeks, and she sighed with relief. She’d been enjoying the evening. It had been so long since she’d been out in society that even though those who were not in her inner circle were still, for the most part, little more than coolly polite to her, she hadn’t minded. Much.

But her conversation with Nigel had elicited much more of a response from the count than she’d been anticipating. Or…at least a more real response. She’d expected him to huff and complain as he always did. And she’d certainly gotten that. But she hadn’t expected his genuine concern. Or the real interest she’d seen in his eyes when he looked at her.

And certainly not his gruff voice growling my duchess in her ear.

His words had put a few things in perspective for her, as well. If she chose well, there could be a lifetime of love and happiness before her. If she didn’t…well…her future could consist of anything between discontentment and actual death. And she wouldn’t know what awaited her until it was too late, no matter how well she believed her intuition.

The fact remained, there had been very few men in her life who had put her happiness first. Her well-being, perhaps. Her father had done that when choosing her husband, ensuring she made a brilliant match. Her husband had cared for her physical well-being. An unwell wife couldn’t produce heirs. And he’d been kind enough to her in his way. But her happiness had certainly never factored into their decisions on her behalf.

Why would she want to risk being in such a position again?

She was a wealthy widow with a beautiful son. She was safe. Independent. Free.

And alone.

A couple months ago, she hadn’t thought the exchange was so terrible a price. But now…

She took a deep breath of the night air and lifted her face to the moonlight, an image of smoldering hazel eyes filling her thoughts.

Now…it seemed she could have everything she’d always wanted. Except him.

…

Christian waited several minutes, his gaze fixed on the terrace doors, his impatience growing. When five more minutes had passed and Tamsin still hadn’t returned, he slipped out the doors after her.

She wasn’t on the terrace. He glanced around until he spotted her, her face raised to the moon like some ancient goddess. Following her wasn’t prudent. Though…they were still in sight of the house and most everyone inside were friends. And he had no intention of doing more than speaking to her. But even doing that much could be dangerous.

He turned to go back inside…until he saw the glint of tears on her cheeks. Though he made no conscious choice to move, he was at her side in moments.

“Your Grace?” he said quietly.

She kept her face turned upright, but her gentle smile fractured the wall he’d tried to build around his heart.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her gaze still fixed on the moon.

“Yes,” Christian said, his heart pounding as he drank her in. “It is.”

She turned to meet his eyes, leaning into him slightly. “Don’t fear, my lord. I am well.”

“Forgive me, but you do not look it.”

He gently cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping the tears from her face. Faint laughter floated to them on the breeze, and Christian glanced at the house. He took a deep breath and drew Tamsin deeper into the tree line. She didn’t resist. Which was perhaps even more frightening than the tears.

“Your Grace?” he said, pulling her closer. “Tamsin.”

She sucked in a breath and finally looked at him, her eyes searching his. “I…” Her lip trembled, and then she visibly tried to pull herself together. “I apologize, my lord. A momentary weakness. I assure you, I am all right now.”

“No, you are not. Tell me what troubles you.”

She laughed, though there was little mirth in the sound. “Aside from you?”

He flinched with a slight grimace but didn’t let her go. “I deserve that, I suppose.”

“No, you don’t,” she said with a sigh. “Well, perhaps a little.” This time, her smile was genuine.

A small stone bench sat beneath the large willow tree, and Christian led her to it, pulling her down beside him.

She wiped at her face. “I truly am all right. This,” she gestured to her face, “was just…too much thinking.”

He understood exactly what she meant. But he didn’t want to put words into her mouth. “Thinking about what?”

“Nothing. Everything.” She gave him a wry smile. “What you said as we were dancing.”

“Ah, so it is my fault.”

She laughed softly before her brow crinkled. “No. But…I suppose I just haven’t allowed myself to really think about everything that has transpired over the last year. Last few years, even. My marriage. The birth of my son. My husband’s death and what it means for us.”

He nodded. “My arrival did not help matters, I’m sure.”

She tilted her head as she looked up at him. “If you’d said so even a few weeks ago, I would have agreed with you. But now…”

“Now?” he said, brushing a curl from her face.

Her eyes fluttered closed for the briefest of moments. “Now,” she said, her voice sounding like a sigh, “I think perhaps your arrival was a good thing.”

His brows raised at that. “I am surprised to hear you say so.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “In truth, so am I.” Her lips pinched together as she thought. “Before you came, I knew what I wanted for the rest of my life.”

“And what was that?”

“Find my place in society when my mourning period is over. Start my foundations. Enjoy my freedom,” she said with a slight smile. “Do good where I can. If I can.” She shook her head. “My husband…” She looked up at him and frowned. “He was good to me. But he also never let me forget how fortunate I was that he was willing to look past my common blood. He never let anyone else forget it, either.” She softly snorted. “It made my foray into society…difficult.”

“I can imagine,” Christian said, knowing all too well how judgmental those of the upper echelon could be.

“There were a few kind ones. Especially the Duke and Duchess of Beaubrooke and their families. And Lord Bainbridge.”

Christian couldn’t keep the scowl from his face at the mention of Bainbridge, and Tamsin laughed.

“I know you find him most vexing, my lord. Be that as it may, he’s a good man who has done much to ease my path as much as possible.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Even going so far as to play a ruse on a right bully who was trying to make me remarry.”

Christian’s eyes widened, and he stared down at her in shock. “He is not courting you in truth?”

She shook her head. “No, my lord. Though he did have a jolly time making you believe so.”

He glared toward the house, and Tamsin laughed softly again. “Do not judge him too harshly, my lord. He was only trying to help a friend.”

Christian let out a deep sigh. “I shall try to keep that in mind the next time I see him.”

She smiled again. “It was actually our ruse that truly made me re-examine my situation. My desires for my future.”

“Oh?” Christian wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the rest of her answer. Because whatever conclusion she had arrived at didn’t seem to bode well for him.

“I find myself faced with an impossible decision. Do I remarry once my period of mourning has expired? Or do I keep my hard-bought freedom and stay a widow for the rest of my days?”

Christian held his breath for a second before quietly letting it out. “And what did you decide?”

She shook her head with quiet laugh. “I do not know.” Her sigh tore another piece of his heart away. “Remarrying means giving away my freedom. Not remarrying means remaining alone.”

Christian nodded, finally understanding. “A choice that might bring anyone to tears.”

“Yes,” she said with another faint smile. “Though only in the too-quiet moments when I forget to guard against such thoughts.”

He brushed his thumb across her cheek again. “I am sorry if my clumsy attempts at improving your life made everything worse.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment. “Apology accepted.”

That surprised a laugh out of him, and he pulled her closer, resting his forehead on hers.

“I am wrestling with a deep dilemma of my own,” he said, moving just enough to brush the bridge of his nose across hers.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh?” she said, moving her hand up to hold his wrist, keeping it against her face. Not that he’d had any intention of moving it.

“My uncle is waiting for me to send him word of my choice of bride. And if I don’t, he will send me word of his own choice for me.”

Tamsin’s eyes closed, almost a flinch, but he didn’t release her, instead pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“What is your dilemma, then, my lord?” she said, with a thread of emotion in her voice that he couldn’t place.

“My dilemma, meine Herzogin,” he said, moving to kiss first one cheek, then the other, “is that the only woman I would wish to even consider,” he kissed her chin, “does not wish to marry.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, and she trembled.

“That is a dilemma indeed, my lord.”

“Christian,” he said, running his nose up her jawline.

“What?” Her voice was barely more than a gasp.

“My name is Christian,” he all but growled before dragging his teeth lightly across her earlobe. “I want to hear you say my name, Tamsin.”

Her breath left her in a shuddering sigh. “Christian,” she breathed.

He groaned and captured her lips, one arm wrapping around her waist to pull her closer while his other hand spanned her jaw, tilting her head to give him better access to her mouth. A tiny moan escaped her. Whatever subtlety he meant to maintain fled, and he crushed his lips to hers.

And oh, guter Gott, those lips. How he had resisted kissing her this long, he didn’t know. With that first taste, his world was irrevocably changed. No, that wasn’t quite true. It had already been changed. From the first moment he’d seen her, spoken with her, fought with her. She’d taken his bland world and given it life. He looked forward to the sun rising each morning instead of dreading what the day might bring. From the moment they’d locked eyes, he knew he’d never be the same. And this kiss. It made that world brighter. Made every breath worth drawing.

Her soft, sweet lips opened under his, inviting him in, and he fell even deeper.

She wrapped her arms about his neck, meeting his passion with her own. Christian couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t get deep enough. It was as if every sweep of his tongue, press of his lips, touch of his hand, did nothing but spark more hunger. Hunger for this woman who had so captivated him from the moment she’d stopped her carriage directly in his path. He ended and began with her.

They had only shared one kiss. And yet he knew it would never, never be enough .

Someone cleared their throat, and Tamsin and Christian broke apart, staring at each other as trepidation coursed through him while he tried to catch his breath. And even then, in that second before he knew if he’d just destroyed both their lives, he didn’t regret it. That kiss, what that kiss meant, had been worth burning down their worlds.

They turned together to see in whose hands their fate rested.