The Devilish Duke, page 9
“But my lady,” Mr. Baker stammered as he stood, “you cannot see him at this hour of the night. It would be highly improper.”
“Saving the orphanage is more important than the proprieties.” She strode through the sitting room door. “Do not worry, Mr. Baker. I shall deal with the devil myself.”
Chapter Ten
The Devil Duke, as society continued to take great pleasure in dubbing him, lounged back against his chair and regarded her with hooded eyes. “You take great risk in visiting me alone at this hour, Lady Sophie.”
She stood at the entrance to his study and glared at him in defiance. He really did live up to his moniker, both in looks and in actions. “When the lives of children are at stake, I am willing to take the risk.”
His eyes traveled down the length of her body. “I know the donation for the orphanage is important to you, but really, I would have given it to you just as I said I would. You should have more care for your reputation. One might think you are here for an entirely different reason.”
“Do not for one instant pretend that you do not know exactly why I am here.” She pulled her cloak in tighter over her chest, suddenly very aware of the thin material of her gown underneath.
“When a woman visits a bachelor’s residence at this time of the night, let me assure you that she generally wants one thing and one thing only.” He assessed her movements with an all-too-knowing gaze that made her shiver—as did his highly improper implication. “Though unfortunately, in your case, one must not assume likewise.”
“How very glib of you,” she replied, mustering her confidence and striding into the room for the battle that was sure to come.
“I am merely stating the obvious. Besides, you should have more care for your reputation. Imagine what Abelard would say if he knew of your midnight visit to my residence.”
She held onto her temper as she came to a stop and mentally congratulated herself for her restraint. “I do not give a fig what the Earl thinks, nor of my reputation.”
“Well, that is only half obvious. Something I am going to have to monitor in the future, no doubt,” he muttered as he took a sip of his drink. “It is after one in the morning, Lady Sophie. Could this not have waited until a more appropriate time?”
“No,” she answered. “I rather think that throwing fifty homeless children out into the rat-infested streets to face certain death is a topic definitely worth discussing at any hour of the day. Particularly since you just pledged to donate one thousand pounds to their cause, yet at the same time intend to demolish their home!”
“You always have had a flair for the dramatic.” He sighed again.
“A flair for the dramatic?” Sophie could not believe what she had just heard. “Children’s lives are at stake here. Of all the arrogant things to say.” She felt her face flush with her rising fury. “Trust me, Your Grace, my anger is neither dramatic nor will it magically disappear.”
“Very well then,” he conceded. “Take a seat, and we shall discuss your ire.”
She felt her heart skip a beat, an annoyingly recent habit she had developed in his presence. Ignoring the feeling, she took a seat upon the deep red velvet-covered chair he indicated across from him. She could not help but glance around.
It was the first time she had ever been inside the private areas of any man’s residence, let alone the Devil Duke’s study, and despite her anger, she was a tad curious.
His study was darkly masculine, with heavy oak furniture, brocade velvet drapes, and a large hearth at the end of the room with brightly glowing flames in its belly. The rich, almost seductive ambience created by the glow of the fire was somewhat unsettling, considering that she was alone and visiting the most notorious, and some would even say, most dangerous man in London.
And in the middle of it all, obviously not having expected company, was Huntington, lounging in a chair beside the hearth, his shirt unbuttoned and a glass of brandy cradled in his hands. Sophie quickly averted her eyes from the sprinkling of dark hair nestled at the opening of his collar and forced herself to look up at his face.
“At least do tell me that you had the good sense to come in the safety of your family carriage on this escapade tonight.”
She paused slightly. “No. I hailed a hackney.” After all, she had no intention of letting her aunt find out about this particular visit.
He swore, slamming down his glass of brandy onto the desk. “Of all the stupid, foolhardy things… Have you no care for your safety? I assume your brother has no idea of this little jaunt of yours?”
“No, he is overseeing repairs to our country estate. Regardless, though, it was imperative that I speak with you now about the orphanage.”
He cocked his head and appraised her as if she were a simpleton. “Notwithstanding the situation, your actions are dangerous and stupid. You faced the very real possibility of harm befalling you, and if anyone found out about this visit, your reputation would be ruined.”
“Which is why I came alone, after my butler hailed the vehicle for me and ensured I was safely ensconced inside it,” she retorted. “Besides, my reputation is of no concern to you.” It was somewhat odd that he seemed worried over the subject.
“Well, it should be someone’s, as you clearly have no regard for it.”
“I did not come here to discuss my reputation,” she said as she adjusted her skirts. “In point of fact, it is the least of my worries at this stage. What I do care about is discovering what your intentions are regarding the orphanage. You cannot truly intend to tear the building down and build town houses in its place?”
He smiled. It did not reassure her.
“I do not think you would like my intentions if you knew of them,” he said. “And for the record, most ladies prize their reputations above all.”
“I am not like most ladies, Your Grace.” She’d trade her reputation a thousand times over to keep her charges from being cast out on the streets.
He cast her a veiled glance. “I am very aware of that.” He stood and picked up his glass, then walked across to the side table. Lifting the crystal decanter, he poured himself another drink. “Would you care for some brandy?”
Holding both of her palms out, she closed her eyes briefly and begged a higher power for patience. How could he be so cavalier at a moment like this? “Oh, for goodness sakes, I did not come here for a drink. Is the gossip concerning your plans for the orphanage true or not?”
“That depends on what you have been told,” he said. “A lot does flitter about the Ton, much of which is highly inaccurate. It should be the least of your concerns.”
“Must you continually avoid answering my questions and try to intimidate me?” She was angry enough that she had a half mind to stand up and adopt the same Eastern fighting stance he and the earl had used earlier, just to see if she could jolt Huntington out of his blasé attitude. “I have come here for answers and will not be swayed until I get them.”
“Is that so?” His eyes took on a predatory gleam, making her both extremely wary and yet oddly exhilarated at the same time. She watched as he swirled the brandy in his glass.
In retrospect, perhaps it had not been the wisest course of action to visit him alone, and at such a late hour, though she would never admit so to him.
“Very well, Lady Sophie,” he said as he walked back over to his chair and sank down into the cushions, draping himself back against the piece of furniture in a rather louche manner. “Let us discuss the dire circumstances that have forced you into visiting the Devil’s Lair at this hour.”
She arched her brow. “And you say I have a flair for the dramatic?”
“Touché,” he acknowledged, taking a sip of his drink. “I had planned to strike a bargain with you at a more appropriate hour, though I see no reason not to do so now.”
“Strike a bargain with me? I do not understand. I have nothing to bargain with.” She could only hope that his bargain met the conditions of propriety.
“Actually, you do.” His eyes skimmed down the length of her.
So much for propriety. She narrowed her own eyes. “If you think I would resort to using my body tonight to save the orphanage, you have sorely underestimated my resourcefulness and my intelligence.”
“My, my, you do have a dreadful opinion of me, don’t you?” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a slow smile. “Tempting though that thought may be, I have other intentions in mind, somewhat more noble than your assumptions.”
“Really? Noble intentions? I am eager to hear what they are.” This should be rather entertaining, particularly from him.
“Very well,” he acknowledged. “Without going into the details, suffice it to say, my reputation as a bachelor has now had a negative impact upon my business dealings. And you have the sort of unblemished reputation that might possibly redeem my own.”
“Aside from the part about your reputation, you are not making any sense.” She gestured with her chin over to the side table. “How many of those brandies have you consumed?”
A corner of his full mouth quirked upward. “Trust me, I am quite sober. Let us just say that the current endeavor I am working on involves the agreement of some very conservative people, who are somewhat displeased with my past dalliances and subsequent lack of marital status.”
“Now that, I do believe.” Goodness, just thinking of what he had been up to the first time they met was enough to send a very warm flush through her.
He studied her for a moment. “Be that as it may, for this important business deal to go ahead, I must appease them and show I have mended my ways. In that regard, as I mentioned to you at the Earl of Chifley’s ball the other evening, I find I am in need of a wife…and you, my dear, fit the bill to perfection.”
Chapter Eleven
Sophie blinked. “Surely you are jesting.”
“I have never been more serious. I did, in fact, try to ask you the other evening, but you didn’t believe me.”
“Well, of course I didn’t… You are the notorious Devil Duke…” She was at a loss on how to respond. “My aunt said you were looking for a wife, but I had not credited such an outlandish tale.” How on earth could she “fit the bill to perfection?” He had the most beautiful and elegant women in England fawning all over him constantly—and she offered little competition in either regard.
“As you said earlier, she does have excellent sources.”
“But a wife?” She threw up her hands, her emotions a swirling mass of confusion and something she couldn’t name. “You are known for always balking at the notion of marriage.”
Huntington rose up out of his chair and stepped toward her, and she found herself wanting to shrink back into her own chair and wanting to move closer. The man’s charisma was like a magnet, drawing her to him, with no effort on his part. “I am a realistic man. If marriage is the means to ensure my continued business success, then marriage it will be.” It was a practical response, but the look he gave her made her feel as if he’d proposed doing something wholly improper. She suppressed a shiver.
“Yes, but I have always balked at marriage, too,” she declared, though her voice sounded weak even to her own ears. “Why on earth would I change my decision to never marry?” Particularly, to marry a rake. The sort of man she would never allow herself to love.
He gave her a slow smile while biting his bottom lip, and she didn’t want to know what kind of thoughts were running through his head. “You have never been offered such an enticing arrangement before.” Still holding his drink in his hand, he leaned back against the padded arm of the chair adjacent to hers, crossing his lean, powerful legs at the ankle. The move put him so close, she could practically feel the heat of his body enveloping her.
She swallowed. “And how would you know whether I have or have not?”
“You would be married by now if you had.”
His overconfidence knew no bounds. “I will have you know that I have turned down a total of four marriage proposals over the years. Five, if we count your one from the other night.” She noticed his jaw tighten at the comment.
“I have no doubt you have,” he agreed, his voice sounding rather irked. “But none could offer you what I can.” The look he gave her was pure Devil Duke. Despite having layers of clothing covering her from neck to ankle, she’d never felt more exposed as a flush traveled up her neck and face.
She chose to ignore it. Arching an eyebrow, Sophie pushed herself up out of her chair and walked over to the window. “The Earl of Castlemaine offered for me last season, and all of society considers him quite the catch.”
Devlin laughed, the deep sound rumbling through to her very bones. “The only thing that that pompous fool could catch is a cold.”
“Which is why I refused his suit.” She looked out into the dark night, though she could see very little of the gardens below. Turning around, she faced him once more. “However, he still could have offered me a similar place in society with most of the advantages that you could.”
“No, he could not,” he stated with the assurance of a man who knew his wealth.
Maddening. “How on earth did you come up with this crazed notion of marriage? And more to the point, why would you think I would even consider it?”
“I now own the deed to the orphanage,” he pointed out. “Something which, I believe, you have been desperately trying to acquire for several years.”
Ah, so there it was—what he really wanted with Grey Street. Folding her arms across her chest, she studied him carefully. “Is that why you made a wager with Lord Relton?”
“I am not a man to let any opportunity go to waste. And I needed to show you that I was serious in my proposal.”
“But that is so…so calculated.” Infuriating as the whole situation was, she couldn’t imagine why he’d go to so much trouble for a bluestocking and almost-spinster like herself.
He raised his glass at her, as if toasting her not-very-brilliant response. “I know what I want, Sophie, and I will use any means to obtain it.”
But why me? She paused for a moment, unsure if she was ready for the answer. So she tried a different question. “And what if I refuse your offer?”
“As you said, the lives of fifty children are at stake.”
“Are you implying that if I turn down your proposal, you will do as the rumors suggest and bulldoze the orphanage to erect town houses in its place?”
“But you will not let it come to that, now will you?”
“No,” she agreed, wondering if he really would do so. Sophie couldn’t believe anyone could be so ruthless, not even the Devil Duke, but taking in the grim determination plastered across his face, she found herself second-guessing her convictions. The man had to have earned his nickname. And though he was as handsome as sin, his moniker didn’t simply stem from his amorous pursuits. “However, I do not take well to blackmail or threats, nor will I simply capitulate to your demands.”
Taking a sip of his drink, he eyed her in silent speculation from across the room. “I am a businessman foremost. Having a white elephant like the orphanage draining my funds without any reward is simply unacceptable.”
“Well then, you should not have accepted it as a wager.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“In order to blackmail me?”
He leaned forward. “With the deal I am about to offer you, it will not be blackmail. You will agree of your own free will. As a matter of fact”—he placed his glass on the coffee table, and his gaze dropped to her mouth—“I think you will be very pleased with how generous an offer I am proposing.”
Unwittingly mesmerized, even from several feet away, she regarded him with reluctant interest. “I could always purchase the orphanage off you,” she murmured. She couldn’t help but feel she was waiting for…something.
His eyes, blue like the deepest parts of the ocean she’d only seen a few times, flicked back upward to meet her own once more. “You do not have enough funds to do so yet. Besides, I have no need of cash.”
She inhaled deeply, trying to re-center herself. “Then just what sort of deal are you offering?”
“Marry me, and I will sign over the deed to the orphanage to you, to do what you want with.”
“My, what a romantic proposal.” But even so, owning that deed was her fondest wish.
“Choose to be glib about it all you like, but I am serious.”
“So let me get this quite correct; instead of selling my body for one night, it would be for a lifetime?” For the first time that evening, she couldn’t help but feel she tread on dangerous ground. She was a woman alone. With a known rake who was only partially dressed and eyeing her like he wanted to have her for breakfast. The man clearly had no qualms about using whatever means at his disposal to get what he wanted.
And other than the safety and security of Grey Street’s children, she didn’t know what she wanted. She knew she should tell him no, but…
“There you go again, being all dramatic.” He picked his glass back up, the amber liquid in it shimmering against the soft flames from the hearth.
“Well, please do explain the difference to me. For where I am standing, it is exactly that.”
He relaxed back and took another sip of his brandy. He sighed in satisfaction, and Sophie’s eyes were riveted to his lips and the column of his throat. For a mad moment, she imagined running her palm inside his shirt and trailing kisses up his neck until she found his mouth and could press her own lips against the fullness of his.
Oh, she had to take a hold of these wayward thoughts. Thinking such things would only lead to trouble.
“As the Duchess of Huntington, you would have all of the privileges expected of your station,” he continued. “You would be provided with a monthly income to spend as you choose on fripperies and the like. Shall we say five hundred pounds?”
Good Lord! Five hundred pounds per month was more than she received in her entire yearly allowance from her brother. She walked over to the lounge and sat down. To offer such a sum could only mean that he was indeed as wealthy as Midas.
