The Devilish Duke, page 5
“Is my marrying really so farfetched a notion?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I imagine one does not earn the moniker the ‘Devil Duke’ without having an even more jaded view of marriage than I do, besides being far too busy with your business dealings to even spend a moment of your time considering it.”
“True. Though you must know I delight in confounding Society.”
“I suppose I do not really know you well enough to comment.”
“Something I fully intend to rectify.” His head slowly slanted down toward her own, until his lips were but a breath away. “If only you will let me?”
She felt her heart nearly stop and her knees weaken. For a mad moment, she wondered what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to hers, his tongue dancing against her own. A delicious heat curled down her spine.
“We could have such fun together,” he murmured softly. “I could teach you so many things.”
How many times had he made that offer to a woman—probably to many women in this very room? What was she even thinking to allow him to affect her so? The man was a rake, a libertine, and a scoundrel. She knew better than to succumb to sweet, meaningless words from someone of his ilk. She loftily raised her chin and took a deliberate step away from him. “I have no need to learn anything from you, thank you very much.”
He sighed long and heartily, obviously being dramatic for effect. “I will endeavor to change your mind, my dear.”
Not likely. “You will be trying a very long time indeed.”
His beautifully shaped lips twitched. “I do like a challenge.”
“Oh, you are incorrigible.” Whirling back to the balustrade, Sophie looked down at the ballroom below. “So tell me, what brings you back to England now?” Maybe if she hit him with enough banal pleasantries, he’d get bored and find someone else to tease.
“Doing my duty to my title. Marriage could prove to be a very advantageous business arrangement for both of us.”
Us. Sophie whirled toward him, certain she had heard him wrong. “You did not, seriously, just suggest we marry, did you?”
He gave a half shrug. “I did. You need donations for your orphanage, correct? Just think of what having access to my bank account would provide.”
For a moment, she allowed herself to be dazzled by the thought of having unlimited funds to help the orphanage. Such a resource would ensure all of the orphans could be trained to find suitable employment as Jane had. There would be meaning and purpose to their lives as they learned the skills to ensure their continued survival…
But then, the reality of the situation returned to her. This was the Devil Duke. The man had no intention of marrying. He had to be teasing her, of course. Or worse, trying to lull her into believing she could make a respectable man out of him so he could turn his seductive wiles on her. Did he really think she would fall for such nonsense?
“That is the most ridiculous notion I’ve heard in a very long time,” she said.
Huntington folded his arms across his chest, and a rather disconcerted frown replaced the devil-may-care grin that had been crossing his face. “What is so ridiculous about it?” he replied, all traces of teasing gone. “You’re meant to say yes, actually.”
“Am I?” A peal of laughter broke free. Sophie didn’t believe he was serious for an instant. “The Devil Duke, proposing? How hilarious.”
Instead of joining in her laughter, he remained serious and seemed, truth be told, rather perturbed. “Well, I am glad you think so. Obviously, I am going to have to think of another strategy to get your agreement.”
“Oh please, you know I shall never fall for such a tall tale.” Her laughter gradually subsided, and she eyed him speculatively. “Now, are you going to tell me the true reason of why you have returned this time? I imagine it is for some grand, money-making scheme.”
“Primarily, yes,” Huntington agreed as he walked over next to her and placed both of his hands upon the balustrade.
Sophie couldn’t help but notice how large his hands and fingers were. How capable and strong they appeared. Inwardly, she winced as she wondered how many women they’d caressed.
The Duke looked down upon the multitude of bodies below. “I have no wish to bore you over the details. I would much rather hear whom have you chosen as your next hapless victim.”
She scanned the crowd. “What on Earth are you referring to?”
He laughed. “Come, come. I thought you more frank than that.”
Tilting her head toward him, she decided that the change of topic was to her advantage. “I may have observed the Earl of Paversley to be in the right frame of mind to agree to a sizable donation for the orphanage.”
“Well into his cups, is he?”
“Not yet,” she replied. “And before he gets there, I intend to point out the merits of donating to Grey Street Orphanage, a far worthier cause than the frivolous pursuits of cards and ladies he usually spends his fortune on.”
“So basically, you intend to cajole, wheedle, and badger him, whilst fluttering those beautiful eyelashes until he capitulates and agrees with you, no doubt.” There was a look of complete certainty in his gaze, which made Sophie wonder how he could know her so well already. She hadn’t even tried her wiles on him for a donation yet, what few wiles she had.
“I do not flutter my eyelashes.” She folded her arms. “Well, only sometimes. But is that all I am known for? Harassing everyone for contributions for the orphanage?”
“Yes.” He regarded her with complete seriousness.
She did not quite know what to say. True, she did use every available opportunity at balls and social events to lobby for donations, but only because it was vital to the children’s survival.
“Do not look so disheartened,” he said, more gently than she would have thought the Devil Duke capable. “Primarily, your reputation is one of a charming eccentric, and most are only too happy to donate to your cause.”
Sophie knew of her own reputation among her peers, but to have it pointed out, particularly by him, was nonetheless slightly aggravating. She smiled sweetly up at him. “I am so glad to hear it, for I do believe that it is time for a donation from you.”
“It is, is it?”
“Yes, and I fear it has been a very hard year for the orphanage, and as such, it would only be fitting your monetary gift be a large one.”
The look he gave her was one he might direct at a business adversary he was sizing up, not a woman. It warmed her almost as much as his earlier flirtations had. “Quite the little mercenary, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but only when it comes to the orphanage.”
“Very well,” he capitulated, much more easily than she’d expected. “I shall call upon you tomorrow and deliver the check in person.”
“You cannot do that.” The implications of such a visit would have almost unbearable consequences; her aunt would be certain the Duke was courting her, and then her talk of marriage would become even more rampant and insufferable than ever. “I think it would be best if you simply post the donation.”
“But I have decided to donate one thousand pounds.”
“One thousand pounds?” She blinked in surprise. “Are you quite serious?”
“I am always serious about money,” he said. “Besides, it is far too great an amount to see get lost in the post.”
A thousand pounds was beyond generous; it was amazing. “I do not know what to say, Your Grace. That is very magnanimous of you.”
“Shall I lower the amount then?”
“No!” she nearly shouted but managed to contain herself, just barely. “One thousand pounds will be perfect.” What they could do with a thousand pounds! Much-needed schoolbooks, slates, and chalk. A few extra beds since they always seemed to be short. Warm blankets for winter and new clothing in larger sizes for the older children, who never seemed to stop getting taller and broader. Perhaps even a few toys and treats to bring a smile to little faces that had experienced so much hardship in their young lives.
The Duke cleared his throat, breaking into her mental cataloguing. “Perhaps now you can start calling me Devlin? ‘Your Grace’ sounds so formal.”
Truly, he never stopped being shocking. “It is formal for a reason, Your Grace. And I certainly have no intention of calling you by your first name, ever.”
“Oh, but you will, my dear.” The cadence of his voice was as smooth as honey. “One of these days, you are going to scream my name aloud. That I promise you.”
Her breath hitched in her throat at the sensual pledge in his stare. Every single nerve ending in her body tingled in anticipation. What was wrong with her? The rake was taking great pleasure in toying with her. She could not allow him to addle her senses so. “I will do no such thing. Now, if you will excuse me, it is time I get back to work and procure more contributions.” The children of the orphanage were depending on her for their continued survival.
Pointedly, she turned her gaze down toward the ballroom and scanned the crowd once more. Her heart skipped, just a little, when she saw Richard standing below. He still looked noble and handsome. She leaned slightly further forward.
“I thought you a great deal more sensible than to remain enamored with the Earl of Abelard,” Huntington said, his voice suddenly devoid of any warmth.
Sophie slanted a glance at him. “Do not be ridiculous. I was… I was just surprised to see him, that is all.”
“My, how believable you sound.”
Unable to stand his close scrutiny, Sophie angled her body slightly away from his. “What business is it of yours anyhow? The fact of the matter is I wasn’t certain he was back in England. Although my aunt said so, I did not quite believe her. She did, after all, think you were looking for a wife. How was I to place much credence in her news that the Earl had returned and was looking for a wife, too? I mean, what are the odds?”
“So you are still smitten?” His voice seemed to harden. “One would have thought falling out of a tree would have cured that.”
“I am not smitten.” She stepped back from the balcony. “I have simply heard of his charitable work whilst on the continent, and I find myself eager to speak with him about it.”
“Keeping note of his movements? I must say, I am surprised you didn’t pounce when his wife died barely a month after they married last year. If I was in your shoes, I would have taken advantage of the situation.”
“Of course, you would have.” The lighthearted, teasing Devil Duke was gone, now replaced by a rather surly one. She wasn’t sure she liked the change. “I am not like you, thank goodness. And I certainly would not have taken advantage of a man, so obviously heartbroken over his wife’s death that he had to leave the country to escape her memory.”
“You certainly have kept tabs on him.”
She thrust her chin out. “I happen to be best friends with his sister, Constance. It was she who told me of his travels.”
“What…and you did not know he was back? How very remiss of her not to inform you.”
“For your information, Constance has just married and is now living in Scotland. She has never been a particularly good correspondent, and subsequently, I have not heard from her recently.”
“How tragic for you.” The sarcasm in his voice was blatant. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the balustrade, but the rigidity in his face and body made him look like he was trying too hard—and failing—to look casual. “Why, if you had known he was in England sooner, you could have begun your pursuit in earnest. He is, after all, a widow now, and his mourning period is clearly over.”
“Stop being such a scoundrel. I have no intention of pursuing anyone.” She narrowed her eyes. “If I did not know you to be such a cad, I would say you sound decidedly jealous.”
“Hardly,” he said. “Jealousy is yet another wasted sentiment. You place too much importance on yourself. I care naught if you fancy the Earl or not. It makes very little difference to my plans.”
Sophie found herself unaccountably hurt by his disinterest. “The only plan of yours that I care about is receiving that donation tomorrow.”
He rose and bowed, a mock smile gracing his face. “You shall receive it, my lady, of that you can be sure.”
Sophie lifted her skirts and rotated toward the stairway that would lead her directly into the throng below. “As I have a very busy day, I would appreciate it if you call earlier than usual.”
“Hoping your aunt will not find out about my visit?”
“To be perfectly honest, yes,” she replied over her shoulder. “She is one of the biggest gossips in London.”
“Very well, I will call upon you around eleven,” he said as she walked past him toward the staircase, “with perhaps more to offer than you think.”
…
The man stood in the shadows, quietly observing Lady Sophie and the Duke of Huntington speak with one another on the landing. An interesting development… He had not known the Devil Duke was acquainted with the lady.
Though he could not hear what they were saying, it was clearly not the abysmal weather they were discussing, if the dark frown creasing the Duke’s face and the narrowing of the lady’s eyes were of any indication.
In fact, the emotions flittering across both of their faces suggested that they were much more familiar with one another than might be considered proper, particularly with the Duke’s more than notorious reputation with the ladies and the chit’s lack of marital status.
Hmmm… He had never seen the Devil show any emotion, apart from boredom, toward a lady before. How very interesting. Perhaps it was a situation that he could use to his advantage.
For too long, the Devil Duke had been in possession of a fortune and title that should have been his. It was only fitting he repay the favor and take away something from the Devil. Then mayhap Huntington, too, would know what it felt like to always be yearning for something forever out of reach.
Chapter Six
Sophie pulled off her bonnet and cloak and then hung them on the hook closest to the door. She had been completely unsettled since waking at dawn with the knowledge that the Duke was coming to call later in the morning. Unable to return to the blissful surrender of sleep, she had decided she might as well visit the Orphanage in the interim. It was one of the few places where she found peace and purpose, and the children always cheered her up immeasurably—a situation she was particularly desirous of right then.
A minute later, she walked into the breakfast hall and was greeted by a chorus of gleeful shouts of welcome from the children. They were all sitting on the benches lining the long oak trestle tables that ran the length of the room, eating their bowls of porridge.
A peal of laughter broke from her lips as several of the younger ones jumped up from where they sat and ran over to her. About five of them clamored around her skirts, all vying for cuddles.
“Lady Sophie, look, look!” Little Hannah, who couldn’t have been more than six, waved her pint-sized hand high above her head, proudly holding a front tooth between her fingers. “It came out this morning, like you said it would.” She grinned broadly, prominently displaying the wide gap in her mouth in place of the tooth.
“We shall have to ask Cook for salt to sprinkle on it.” Sophie leaned over and regarded the tooth, certain to keep a very serious expression on her face as she examined it. “Then you can cast it into the flames of the stove.”
“You gotta sing a good luck song, too,” Jeremy, a little boy with earnest brown eyes, piped up from where he stood next to Hannah. “’Tis important to do that before the tooth mouse gets it.”
The other children chorused agreement and then took turns shouting suggestions as to what particular song Hannah should sing. It was one of the children’s most favorite rituals.
Sophie felt her heart swell with love for them all. The majority had come from horridly squalid lives on the street, many often exploited into committing crimes by either a parent or the blackguards they had attached themselves to in order to survive. The lucky ones had been dumped at the orphanage when they were but babies and had never had to experience anything but Grey Street’s warm and safe environment. Yet all of them, under the patient guidance and care given to them by Maggie the headmistress, Sophie, and the other helpers, had flourished.
Facing the Devil Duke once more—and putting up with her aunt thinking he was courting her—was a small price to pay in order to help the children here to better themselves and make something of their lives.
…
“Darn it,” Sophie muttered to herself as she scribbled out the amount she had written in the accounts ledger for the fourth time. Her brain was refusing to concentrate on her task at hand. She had arrived back from the Orphanage about an hour ago and was still awaiting the blasted Duke’s appearance.
She threw her quill onto the blotter and leaned back in her chair, sighing loudly. She simply could not concentrate, and it was pointless to continue, only to have to recalculate every figure again and again.
Not that his imminent visit this morning had anything to do with her lack of focus. No, it was just that one thousand pounds was the biggest contribution the orphanage had ever received from one person alone. It would make an enormous difference.
“My dear, you are not doing those horrible accounts again, are you? It seems that whenever I come past this room, that is all you are ever doing.”
Looking up to the doorway, Sophie saw her aunt standing there with a frown upon her face. This morning, she was dressed in a gown of fuchsia taffeta sprinkled with pink pearls, thankfully quite un-canary like.
Sophie cringed inwardly as an image of a pink marshmallow with pink icing danced across her vision; well, surely resembling a marshmallow was better than resembling a bird.
“Actually, Aunt, I was just finishing. You are up awfully early today to be paying visits.” Mabel up and dressed before eleven? She must know that Sophie had been seen talking with the Duke last night. That was the only thing that would entice her aunt from her bed so early.
