The Duke (Daughters of Dishonour #2)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

T wo weeks later

Kit paced through his London property, the carpet beneath his feet would become worn if he kept it up. Inside the bedroom was Elsie, and Kit could not imagine being anywhere else. She was being tended to by a trusted doctor and her sister, and Kit had reluctantly promised to go and sleep, but the truth was that slumber was out of reach.

So, he had made himself a nest in the nearest parlour, with only Lancelot for company. The dog huddled close to his feet, the creature’s warm breath hitting against his feet created a sense of rest if only his worrying mind would allow such things.

It was impossible not to dwell on the final moments of their escape from the cove, the mad icy swim towards the pathway and the desperate grasping fingertip reaching out for land. He had thought Elsie right beside him, but when he turned it was to find her faint, and barely able to stand. So, he had carried her through the woods, talking to her all the way, promising to love her, marry her, do whatever she wished as long as she stayed with him.

The rest of the night, the journey out of Cornwall, meeting his cousin and Elsie’s sister Margot, had been something of a blur. Even the momentous moment when Margot had passed the family diamonds over to him had been somewhat diminished by Kit’s fears for Elsie. They were in Town where the best doctors were, but despite many a nighttime vigil, she was just starting to improve.

A tentative knock sounded, and Kit looked up to see his young sister enter the room. Flora was settling in, taking to Town with a delight that had surprised him, colour and vivaciousness flooding her once drained face. It brought a small measure of comfort to Kit.

“I have been looking for you and wondering if you might care for some supper?” Her voice was warm, and he saw she was starting to move with confidence.

“You managed to escape the clutches of Mrs. Bowley?” The London-based chaperone had been delighted to adopt Lady Flora, and plans were underway, it seemed, that she might enjoy a few delights of the Season. He had expected Flora to refuse, to wish to hide away, but he had been wrong, and Flora had even been to Vauxhall.

Kit shook his head, moving away from Flora to stand awkwardly by the fireplace, leaning on the wall as he looked at his sister, not certain what he should say to her, to allay her fears.

“I don’t think you’re actually supposed to pick at the wallpaper unless you’re an infant, and then in that case, am I supposed to play at being the nursemaid?” A leisurely voice sounded behind him, and in displeasure Kit looked to see his neighbour, the Earl of Langley, who also happened to be his future brother-in-law, enter the room.

There was something that touched on wickedness in the way Langley said his opening sentence, as if there was something illicit to his comment. Or just to his general being. The man was a libertine of the kind Kit had only seen from a distance at university and known second hand through his father’s tales about his uncles’ affairs.

Langley was the embodiment of the rakish ideal with all his sardonic grace, sage green waistcoat, combed blond hair, and black suit, topped off with the sort of smile and well-rested countenance. It made Kit feel his ruffled, country appearance and very much resented the man despite all the wonderful things Margot said about the earl.

Langley wandered in closer, and as the earl came to stand next to Kit, he reached out a hand and touched the paper that Kit had been picking at. “I mean it’s not my favourite pattern. Still, I didn’t think you would be thinking of interior design at this point in time.”

Words stuck in Kit’s throat. “I’m not,” he managed to say.

“Come, both of you.” Langley took hold of Kit’s arm and started to manoeuvre Kit down the hallway. “My brother is one of the best doctors in London. You have nothing to fret about. He says she’ll be right as rain. I am sure your sister is right about food or fresh air, or whatever it was she came in here for.”

“Where are we going?” It seemed as if with all of Langley’s charm, Kit had to retreat into as many gruff and monosyllabic responses as possible. It seemed that Langley found this terribly amusing, or at least was not remotely troubled by it, since he smiled breezily, his green eyes flashing.

“Since you’ve refused all neighbourly offers to visit mine, I’ve come here under feminine duress to distract you.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Yes, playing nursemaid, and getting underfoot apparently.” Langley managed to drag Kit into the neighbouring parlour and, none too gently, pushed him towards a padded armchair.

Flora followed after them with Lancelot at her heels, seeming to find the whole thing very amusing .

Kit surveyed the room. He hadn’t been into this one yet, still learning the layout of the town mansion. His townhouse. It was clad in garish blue with peacocks, and he pivoted back to look at Langley as the dratted man continued, “You know, it is at great cost to myself that I’ve taken off my normal activities of visiting Gentleman Jackson’s to come here and intercept you. I am now cast into the role of…” He waved his languid arm in such a manner that Kit was certain it was supposed to be appealing, but it just annoyed him.

“Miss Keating has been informing on me,” Kit said, shifting in his seat. He was not certain what the arrangement should be in terms of granting permission for their wedding, but he had his doubts it would matter, Langley would have Margot come hell or high water. The metaphor plunged Kit back down into the memory of Elsie struggling in the waves, and he hardly responded when Langley shoved a glass of whisky into his hands. The smell was sharp, and alcoholic, and Kit lowered the glass, certain it would put him to sleep.

“I did too,” Flora added, “when I called yesterday.”

“My fiancée wrote to the parents,” Langley said, swirling his glass as he leant against the sideboard. “And my brother complained when he left an hour ago.”

“Because—” Fear gripped him.

“Because Margot was concerned for you,” Langley said.

“Miss Keating,” Kit corrected him, fixing Langley with a hard look.

“I hope you’re not displaying signs of hypocrisy,” Langley replied sweetly, and internally, Kit cursed him. The earl had been present when the earl’s half-brother, boasted the “best” doctor in London, had arrived and asked Kit a series of questions concerning Elsie’s health, including whether she might be with child. The look of smug humour that had decorated Langley’s face, when Kit had said it was a possibility, still plagued him.

Before Kit could think of a suitable reply, there was a knock at the door, and it swung silently open to admit Miss Margot Keating. She was a tall woman with thick dark hair worn loose around her shoulders and a wan expression on her face, but despite this, she had an appealing face with clever eyes that brightened when they landed on Langley.

“My love,” the earl said. It was half endearment, half command, and she moved like a moth to a flame by his side. His lordship’s leisurely ease vanished as he enfolded her in his arms. His lips brushed her hair before administering on her forehead a tender kiss, and she nestled there as if she never wished to depart.

Kit had stood and watched them awkwardly. Apart, the two of them could not seem more dissimilar, and yet together, they seemed to fit, to be happy, to love each other as if no one else would ever do. He liked to think of the ways Elsie made him feel just the same. The ache in his chest, he realised, was gone, and he could only thank Elsie for that.

“Shall I—” Kit indicted towards the door, intending to go back to Elsie’s bedside.

Margot smiled over at him. “There’s no need.” She nodded towards the door, and Kit turned to see it swing wide again, and Elsie slipped inside. She was dressed in her night clothes and moving slowly, using a cane, but for the first time, there was colour gracing her cheeks, and she looked up at him as she edged closer, the same warm smile touching on her lips.

An overpowering desire swelled in him, to rush to her side, throw his arms around her, hug her until she rested her face against his chest, and he knew she was safe. When he took a step forward, Elsie raised her free hand indicating that she was perfectly well.

“The doctor has gone for more tonic, but he said I may move around inside, and Margot said you would be close by… I followed the sound of your voices.” As she spoke, Kit hovered close by, directing her into the largest armchair, removing his jacket, and draping it carefully over her legs. The last thing she needed was to ca tch a chill. As soon as she was seated Lancelot hopped up into her lap.

“Quite the devoted nurse,” Langley muttered, earning an annoyed look from Kit, who knew the earl was not referring to the dog, but it was Margot who jumped to his defence.

“You were hardly better, my lord, when I was injured by Mr. Nettley,” Margot teased him, and Langley gave her an indulgent look.

“That was Mrs. Clarke’s son,” Kit said in an undertone to Elsie, who nodded sagely.

“I do believe I can piece together the arrangement,” Elsie said, slipping her small hand into his, at first Kit thought it was for her comfort but truthfully, he rather liked feeling the delicate knuckles and palm all within his grasp. “Margot explained some of it. Mrs. Clarke, an assumed name, was actually Nan Nettley, the one-time mistress of Barnabas Fitzsimmons. Her son killed the former duke. It was their plot to reclaim what they thought should have been theirs.”

“All to get his hands on the Ashmoreton Diamonds,” Margot said.

The diamonds had been sent to be valued, and Kit was baffled to discover the vast fortune he had inherited. Of course, he had informed Margot that, since she was the finder of such riches, he fully intended she should receive half of the family fortune. He hoped this would satisfy all. The irony was Kit thought he would rather have Elsie over such jewels any day, and if the Nettleys had offered him the choice, they could have departed a great deal richer, and he would have kept his fiancée. Still, there was little to be done for the Nettleys now.

“My uncle, the former duke as you say,” Kit said, looking at Margot, “commanded your presence here? Do you think he knew where the diamonds were located?”

“No,” Margot said. There was a small amount of pain in her voice, for the prior duke had been her father and his killing had prevented her from ever knowing the man. “I am convinced he had no idea that the diamonds were hidden in this very house, on his very property. Nor that his murderer was in fact his illegitimate nephew.”

“My family’s ill-reputed reputation is yet again to blame…” Kit felt the anger burn up inside him. So many people had suffered for their lack of physical restraint. “It seems that my uncles’ lusts have caused no end of pain. Never were there more selfish, dissolute, rakehells than?—”

“Easy.” Langley had stepped away from his beloved Margot to fetch another drink, which he prepared with flair before moving away from the cabinet and coming to crouch down next to Elsie and offer her the glass. “Not all such gentlemen are beyond reformation. Or that the side effects cannot eventually work out.”

“ Hmph .” The response came out as more of a growl and was lost in the laugh that made Elsie and Margot grin.

“Besides,” Langley said as he wrapped an arm around Margot’s waist, pulling her closer to him, so she rested against his side. “Would you not say, my love, it was worthwhile going through reformation?”

To Kit’s surprise, Margot let out an oddly girlish laugh which was rich and humorous as she patted Langley’s chest affectionately. “For you I found it a necessity.” Langley cocked an eyebrow at her, and she laughed again. “Very well, I enjoyed elements of it.”

Elsie caught Kit’s eye and gave him a small secretive half-smile, and he moved back to be closer to her, suddenly concerned she might need something.

For the last days in London, whilst not in her presence, he had roamed the townhouse, desperate for her in some intangible way. Just to be back in presence even if she was simply sleeping. He would do anything. He needed to know immediately if there was a thing he could do, all she needed to do was ask. Elsie took his hand when he stepped closer, and Kit raised her palm up and kissed the knuckles. How he missed her, their intimacy, and the way they locked together as a couple. It killed him to think he would need to wait for that until their wedding.

“The doctor suggested I should take dinner tonight.” Elsie’s voice was soft and unused, and she interlinked her fingers through Kit’s fingers.

“I have asked the cook to prepare your favourite stew and—” Margot said as she drew from her pocket a letter which she passed across to her sister. “This arrived this morning. I thought you would wish to read it.”

Elsie took the missive and unfurled it with something of her old glint to her eye. “Mother and father are arriving on Saturday.” She looked over to Flora. “I hope you will be pleased to meet them as well?”

Flora nodded, her reluctance to see and meet new people, a trait she had cast aside now she was in Town.

“There was some talk of when the banns were to be read,” Langley said. Kit was well aware that if the earl was to have his way, Margot and he would be off on the road to Gretna Green rather than waiting for the bride’s family to arrive.

“My sister and I discussed the idea of a joint wedding if you gentleman would be agreeable?” Margot asked sweetly.

“That means waiting longer.” Langley did not look pleased, but when Margot cocked an eyebrow at him, he merely shrugged as if he was completely at ease with the proposal.

“I hope that is acceptable to Your Grace.” Margot looked at Kit. They might be cousins and soon to be in-laws, but she was still a little reserved around him, tentative as if Kit would refuse Elsie’s sister a request.

Determined not to be of a similarly disinclined disposition, Kit smiled at the group. “If that is what you would both like, I am most agreeable.” Despite the idea that standing up with Langley was far from his idea.

“I also had a request from one of your servants,” Margot said, looking at Elsie. “Elinor Samson. It seems there was an understanding…”

“Between her and my driver?” Kit asked. Clary had already requested to court the maid, and after what the two of them had done for Elsie, Flora, and himself, Kit had even offered to pay for their honeymoon.

“They are to be married?” Elsie asked. “How lovely.”

“Excellent,” Langley said with the sort of tone that both showed he approved but did not wish to linger. “Shall we go and partake of dinner?” The earl slipped his arm around Margot’s waist, then gallantly offered Flora his arm, which made the younger girl laugh.

Elsie got to her feet, ready to take Kit’s arm.

“When do you think your sister will warm to me?” Kit teased.

“Perhaps at the same time as you take to Langley?” Elsie asked in amusement. Then in an undertone, she added warmly, “You should not have been so brutally honest about the events down in Tintagel or the possibility I could be with child.”

“I certainly received the distinct impression that Langley and your sister might have the same concerns,” Kit replied sardonically, which made Elsie giggle as she pressed closer to his side.

“There is no need to sound quite prudish,” Elsie said, and Kit wondered if he might be becoming a hypocrite. It just seemed to him that the tragedy of his uncle’s murder, the diamond conspiracy too, might all have been avoided if his various uncles’ lusts had been properly controlled. Still, at least he would ensure that error was not repeated in the next generation.

Turning as they reached the end of the corridor, he looked down at Elsie, waited until the three ahead of them were out of earshot, and then asked, “Is there any chance you might be increasing?” He had no objection to the idea of children, as many as she might care or be able to give him. In fact, he was warming to the concept—especially a dimple-faced little girl with equally becoming dark curls as her mother. But if she was, then their marriage ceremony would need to be brought forward post-haste. So, he reasoned it would not be a bad thing for all concerned if there was a dignified wait as they made their way towards the altar. That was what logic told him, although Kit was quite prepared to tell logic to go hang.

“I do not believe so,” Elsie murmured.

Leaning down Kit took her free hand and lifted her fingers up his mouth. “Plenty of time for all that.”

The following evening as Kit lay secluded in his new bedroom, the lull of nighttime darkness should have pulled him quickly into slumber. After all, the bed was as plush, grand, and wide as anything Kit had ever slept in.

The luxury of the dukedom was fully his now, the title and the nobility he had inherited still not entirely resting easily on his shoulders. It was an adjustment, one he thought he should have been prepared for, and yet he found himself desperately yearning for the reassurance of Elsie. Were she lying next to him… Kit smiled at himself in the darkness at his own amorous ideas. So, he could not fall asleep—his mind was abuzz with all those thoughts of what he might do to her, with her, on her…

The door of his chamber slid open, and Kit sat bolt upright in his bed, reaching instinctively for the candle which still burned beside him.

“I thought”—her voice low, Elsie moved through the dark room getting closer to the bed— “after what occurred at dinner…”

Kit remembered the touch of their fingers through the silk of their gloves as he escorted her to the chair next to him. She must have felt the rush of heat through the contact, the need that had burnt through him, hours later .

“I caught you watching me during the meal,” Elsie said, a note of seduction in her voice.

“I was busy contemplating where we will reside after the wedding.”

“I thought you liked the idea of residing in the Gables Park that Langley spoke of. He said it was available to let, could we afford it?”

The idea of living just thirty miles from Langley, in Hampshire, was not an entirely welcome one. Yet it was better than returning to his family home in Cornwall. Anything was better than there.

“If you wish to let Gables, I am sure we will have more luck than anyone else in my family.”

On reaching the bed, Elsie looked down at him with such a sweet smile his chest felt tight. She nibbled her lower lip, before she changed the subject. “You have fretted that the sins of your family must play out and affect you. I have feared the same because of my mother’s mistake. With my own prior lapses too.”

Kit moved closer, unable to deny drawing nearer to her, telling himself as long as he resisted the urge to pull her down onto the coverlet, then all would be well. He could ignore the temptation of Elsie until they were wed, ignoring his growing erection. But Elsie had other ideas. She sank down onto the bedspread, her fingers reaching out and touching his bare chest, coming to rest over his heart.

“Yet without those errors, mistakes, whatever they might be, whatever you wish to call them, we would not have found our way to each other. We might not have fallen in love. I am therefore grateful for at least my part of these transgressions. Certainly, the ones that we committed together I will never regret.”

“That is different.” Kit could feel his emotions at war within his chest. “You and I are in love.”

“That’s right.” Elsie edged closer, and Kit could tell she might kiss him. Again, his mind screamed that he should refuse her, but everything else told him he was being a fool.

Elsie’s sweet mouth pressed tenderly against his lips. Kissing him, drowning him in the memories of their entwined bodies.

“Let me stay,” she whispered, and Kit knew he could not say no. He would never say no to her. He nodded when she pulled back from their second kiss to look at him, and Elsie slowly clambered on top of him, before he grabbed her up more securely into his arms. She wore only her light nightgown, and her bare legs were soon wrapped around his waist, her bottom grinding against him while their kisses grew wilder. His fingers gripped and pulled at the thin material, ruining the seams and baring her breasts. Bending down, he peppered kisses over her exposed nipples, delighting in the sound of her gasps as his whiskers grazed her skin.

“How I have missed you,” Kit said, his voice throaty and keen.

“Please.” Her voice was raw with need.

Slowly, or as slowly as he could manage, Kit rolled her beneath him, pinning and interlocking their hands over her head, fastening his mouth to hers as he positioned himself above her. When he surged inside her, his mouth captured her encouraging cries, and then as he started to rock in and out of her, the sweet sensation of being held, of being secure, and of being known, gripped him.

The momentum—the force of his need for her—meant little could have stopped the sensations. He claimed her with increasing ferocity, the movements fast and all-consuming as Elsie clung to him, her nails digging into his back, urging Kit on.

When the first waves of his release echoed around his senses, he was relieved to hear an answering response from Elsie. Her delighted mews sounded in his ears, and he drove into her more desperately, finally losing himself within her as she clung to him, sounds and movement, thought and the outside world, purged from their minds.

Still buried deep within her, Kit paused gazing down at Elsie through the darkness, realising how right she had been—that no matter what the costs of the journey to find her, it had all been worthwhile.

“Kit?” she asked, her hand loosening from his grip to reach up and touch his face. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” Kit said, kissing her again. “Absolutely nothing.”