He's a Duke, But I Love Him Read online

  More is certainly what he could get if he followed the directions of the Countess, he thought with a wry grin. Alastair hated being told what to do. His father had attempted to order him around throughout his entire life, and Alastair despised being manipulated. Not only that, he had no wish at all to be married.

  But as ready — or not — as he was, did he still have a choice? He may be known for his propensity for women, but that did not mean that he was ever out to ruin young ladies. But ruin he did. Lady Olivia would never find a suitable match after this. Too many had been witness to their tryst.

  Alastair frowned as he realized it was more than likely that her mother had known exactly what she would find when she pushed aside the curtain with the crowd of people behind her. Lady Sutcliffe had wanted to see her daughter ruined. The thought made Alastair sick. Did he really want to be part of such a family?

  A knock on the door startled him out of his reverie, and he marched over to open it, finding his mother on the other side, still dressed in black as part of her mourning ritual for his father.

  “Mother,” he nodded his head at her.

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek as she entered the room, and sat in one of his wingback chairs to look up at him. She looked very out of place in this masculine room that had been his father’s domain to rule for so many years. His mother was still a beautiful woman, despite the stark black costume and the gray that tinged her hair. She had managed to retain much of her joy for life, despite his father trying his best to stamp it out of her for years.

  It was where, he supposed, he had found his own levity.

  “How was the ball last evening?” she questioned him, a soft smile on her face.

  “You heard?” he asked with a sigh, wandering over to the sideboard and pouring himself a glass of brandy, despite the fact it was well before noon. “Word travels quickly.”

  “It does,” she said with a nod. “Particularly when the Countess of Sutcliffe is intent on ensuring it travels.”

  He rolled his eyes and took a sip, letting the brandy burn down his throat.

  “The woman was entirely too pleased about her daughter’s ruination,” he said to his mother.

  “Yes, I could see Lady Sutcliffe not protesting her daughter’s entanglement with a duke,” his mother said, leaning back against the arm of the chair. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know, Mother,” he said, rubbing his aching temple with the index and middle fingers of his right hand. “I have no desire to find myself wed anytime soon.”

  “Tell me, Alastair, do you believe the girl had any intent of trapping you into marriage?”

  “No,” he responded immediately. “She had no way of knowing what would transpire and she was truly angry with her mother.”

  “It is no longer my place to tell you what to do,” she said slowly. “However I believe, in your heart, you know what the right decision is.”

  “Yes,” he said, a sickening feeling deepening in the pit of his stomach. “I believe I do.”

  10

  The knock on the door came but an hour after Olivia had made her decision.

  The family was still gathered in the drawing room, the air around them filled with tension. While her mother and Helen embroidered and her father sat reading the morning papers, Olivia had moved to lie on the window seat with a book in her lap, her gaze out the window on the street below, and her mind somewhere else completely.

  Upon the Duke’s arrival, her father left the drawing room to speak with him in his study. Olivia nervously bit her fingernails as she waited for them both. How ridiculous that two men should be deciding her future as she sat here like an idiot. There was nothing, however, she could currently do about the matter, and so she waited, albeit impatiently.

  As she swung her leg back and forth over the window seat, she determined how best to approach this marriage — how she could still have her freedom while ensuring her sister’s future remained secure. She came to a resolute decision, feeling she had all the practicalities of the situation arranged in her mind. Then the Duke was shown in.

  It seemed as if all the air had been sucked out of the room when he entered, for she couldn’t quite seem to catch her breath as he stood framed in the doorway, the light from the tall window shining off the golden tones of his sandy curls. Olivia felt heat climbing through her cheeks as she sat rooted to her seat, staring at the man who had brought such passionate feelings forth from her only the previous night. She took in his strong, hard body, the chest she had run her hands over, the silken locks of his hair she had intertwined her fingers through, and the lips that had shown her what desire really meant.

  His slight nod to her finally broke the spell that had overcome her, and her rampant desire was replaced by guilt and regret over their actions from the night before, and her mother’s discovery that had forced them into this situation.

  A hiss from Lady Sutcliffe finally brought Olivia to her feet, and she curtsied ridiculously as the Duke stepped into the room, followed closely by her father.

  “Your Grace,” her mother purred, clasping her hands together in front of her, “how lovely to see you.”

  As if he had called upon them out of societal politeness.

  “My lady,” he said, inclining his head toward her, although none could miss the frost that cloaked his eyes as he regarded her.

  “Well,” the Earl began, in an attempt to cut through the stiffness that had engulfed them all. “It is settled. His Grace will marry Olivia as soon as a special license can be proffered. We shall have the ceremony in the parlor, I believe, as it shall be a small, private affair.”

  He beamed and gave a nod of his head to them all. Olivia let out a small snort at her parents’ reaction, as if this had been a proper courtship and betrothal of two parties, while nothing could be further from the truth. The Duke, a pained expression on his usually jovial face, looked far from a man delighted to be entering matrimonial bliss. And she, well, she would have nothing to do with this if it weren’t for her younger sister.

  “May I have a moment alone with the Duke?” Her voice rang out through the room, which became silent but for the ticking of the long-case clock from the landing and the footsteps of servants in the corridor as they all turned toward her.

  “I suppose it does not make much difference any longer,” her mother said in a clipped tone. “Come, Helen.”

  Her sister meekly followed her mother out the door, as did her father, though he stopped to give the Duke a pointed glare. The Duke inclined his head, silently acknowledging the warning her father gave.

  When the door clicked behind them, Olivia was once again very aware of the presence of the tall, broad man she had so eagerly fallen into the arms of the night before.

  As fast as her heart beat, she refused to turn in fear from this man who would soon become her husband, and she looked up at him, meeting the jeweled tone of his eyes.

  “I will have you know, Your Grace, that none of this was my intention,” she said, a determined set to her chin. “In fact, I would not have agreed to marriage were it not for my sister.”

  “Your sister?” he inclined an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” she responded. “I care not for my own ruination, but I do not want to see Helen affected by … the scandal. She is out now herself and she would very much like a husband of her own. I do not want to bring such disgrace to our family so as to affect her prospects.”

  He cleared his throat.

  “I must apologize, Lady Olivia,” he said, his voice polite and stilted, the voice of a stranger and not the warm baritone to which she was so accustomed. “I should have put more thought into my actions before taking you into that blasted box.”

  “Yes, well…” she said, a slight smile touching her lips. “One cannot say I was not in agreement.”

  The silence stretched between them.

  “Was that all you wished to say to me?” he questioned.

  “Yes. No. I — I know this is not
what you want,” she began, now unable to meet his eyes. “If you wish a marriage in name only, I shall understand, however … however I need to know this from the beginning.”

  “Why?” His one-word question had her eyes flinging up to meet his.

  “Why?” she repeated dully. “So I know … how to regard you.”

  He gave a grunt of derision. “And how do you currently regard me, Lady Olivia?”

  The heat filled her cheeks once more as she took a few steps away from the safety of her window view towards him. “I regard you as a man who enjoys the company of women. Many women. Who has made well known his disregard for marriage and who would prefer to remain a bachelor. Who now finds himself betrothed to a woman because he was caught acting upon his desires, and who now regrets ever leaving the ballroom at the Argyll Rooms.”

  As Alastair listened to Olivia’s words, he realized how very true they were. He knew the gossip, the words that had likely been whispered into her ears about him. And yet he had never truly cared about it. Never, that is, until this moment when the words came forth from her lips to his ears.

  They rattled something within him, something that made him want to refute what she was saying, and yet, he could not. For he did enjoy women, he did not want to marry, and he would prefer to remain a bachelor. Somehow despite the truth in what she said, however, he did not regret those moments in the box at the Argyll Rooms. When he had kissed her, the feeling that charged through him was unlike any he had ever felt before. He didn’t want to marry her, no — but yet he couldn’t deny he still ached for her.

  “I can see I’m not incorrect in my assumptions,” she continued, her tones now crisp and businesslike, not unlike those of her mother’s from just minutes earlier. “Very well, then. I shall make an agreement with you, one that will benefit us both. We shall marry, in name only, to save both our reputations. However, you may choose to do as you wish — visit your clubs, gamble your money, t-take your women. In turn, I may choose to do as I please. You will not question me, or provide me with orders. I will not bring shame to your name, but nor will I be at your every command. Agreed?”

  She raised her eyebrows expectantly and stared serenely upon him, as he stood in shocked silence looking at her. To be married in name only … he couldn’t deny that the one aspect of this wedding he had been looking forward to was bedding his soon-to-be wife. And yet the offer she provided him was quite tempting. He could continue living as he wished, and in turn he had to do nothing but leave her be? But of course — he didn’t wish to have responsibility for another, and by each of them taking their freedoms they could have what they both wanted.

  He smiled his first true smile since Lady Sutcliffe had strode in upon them yesterday.

  “Agreed.”

  11

  The wedding was, as the Earl had described, a small and simple affair. Olivia dressed in her most elaborate gown, a deep blue silk that brought out the crystal of her eyes. Her maid, Molly, came to Olivia with a fabulous, intricate design for her hair in mind, but Olivia shook her head and requested a simple chignon instead. Molly protested, but Olivia’s determination won out, and she was pleased with the effect of the simple style above the high-waisted dress, with its puffed sleeves and plaits.

  She descended the stairs to the parlor, where her father met her at the door. She peeked her head inside, seeing the large room had been slightly reconfigured to accommodate the small number of people who congregated. There were her mother and sister, of course, and the Duke’s mother, still dressed in black, along with a young woman who she took to be his sister in half-mourning clothes. There were a few people she did not recognize, who must be related to the Duke or perhaps his friends, and two of her own cousins, including the one who would inherit this estate one day. She felt a rush of relief to see Rosalind and her fiancé, as well as Isabella and her husband. She had written them in haste yesterday, hopeful they would be in attendance to provide some comfort on this day.

  “Are you prepared for this, daughter?” her father asked somewhat gently as he smiled at her.

  “As prepared as I shall be,” she replied, her face set resolutely.

  “Olivia…” he said, hesitatingly. “I know this is not what you want. But please, child, do try to be happy.”

  She didn’t look him in the eye but responded, “Let us begin.”

  He nodded and walked her to the vicar standing before the guests, where the Duke of Breckenridge awaited her.

  He inclined his head toward her, and gave her a characteristic wink to somewhat ease the tension that filled the room, as all in attendance were well aware of the circumstances.

  The vicar cleared his throat and began, seeming somewhat pleased when no one objected to this wedding. Apparently he had his doubts as well. Olivia managed to keep her emotions in check, until the time came for their vows.

  The vicar turned to the Duke. “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

  The Duke’s face remained impassive, until the line of “forsaking all others,” when a muscle in his cheek twitched and his eyes turned from hers.

  “I will,” he said quietly.

  “And wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

  Olivia winced at the words to “obey him, and serve him,” to which the Duke’s lips turned upwards in a slight smile which only she could see. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she responded, “I will.”

  The remainder of the ceremony drew forward in somewhat of a blur, until the final words were read and Olivia found herself suddenly turned to face the guests of her wedding. And with that, she realized, she was a duchess, married — in name, at least, to this man beside her, a man she had wanted feverishly, and yet did not want to find herself bound to. Her mother had always said her yearn for adventure would be her undoing. As it turned out, she was right.

  “Smile,” came the rich voice in her ear, the one that sent shivers down her spine.

  She did, but the smile did not quite reach her eyes. She had posed this agreement to him, not accounting for the depths of her desire for him. She knew, however, she must not give in. For to do so, to acknowledge any sort of feeling toward him, be it lust or any other emotion, would be her undoing. For if she felt anything for this man, the only result would be her own broken heart. No. She must keep herself far, far away. After this blasted wedding breakfast was over.

  “Come, come!” said the Earl, rising and clapping his hands once the vows were complete. “We must now celebrate this wonderful union that has taken place today. We invite you all to the dining room for a breakfast together.”

  Olivia’s parents bestowed handshakes and smiles on each of the wedding guests, while Alastair’s mother looked at him with raised eyebrows as if to ask if this was what was expected — to follow along as if nothing was amiss. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders at her, silently responding with a yes.

  It had certainly been an interesting ceremony, as he reflected on the vows they spoke to one another. As much as Olivia questioned his loyalty to her, he had always been of the mind that when he did marry — which he had hoped would be far into the future, but no mind of that now — he would be faithful to his wife. He had been prepared for that today, until Olivia came to him with her surprising suggestion. Now he was unsure how to go forward. If she didn’t want him at all, then what was he to do? He couldn’t very well live as a monk.

  The dining room was as horrid as the remainder of the house. The wallpaper that could be seen from beneath the paintings and portraits hung about him was a floral pattern in a pale rose
and crimson red, which clashed horribly with the deep purple upholstery of the chairs around the table. Alastair was not typically one to notice the color of one’s decor, but even he could not help but wrinkle his nose at it.

  “I say,” said his sister in his ear, as she walked by him to her own chair. “This house is simply dreadful!”

  He shushed her even as he smiled, but his grin faded as he turned to see Olivia, sitting next to him, had heard the exchange and was staring at them both with her eyebrows raised. Anne looked horrified as she realized what Olivia had heard.

  “Olivia — that is, Your Grace — I am every so sorry, I —”

  Olivia waved her hand as she surprised them both by chuckling. “If there is one thing I shall not miss,” she said in a low, conspiratorial tone, “it is this awful house.”

  Anne’s worried face disappeared in relief, and Alastair had to be grateful to his new wife for putting his sister at ease.

  “Oh and Anne,” she added as the girl continued on her way. “Please, never call me ‘Your Grace.’ Olivia will do ever so nicely.”

  “Of course, Olivia,” Anne said with a wide smile, and Alastair knew that Olivia had forever endeared herself to the girl.

  The breakfast was as fine as could be expected. He did not speak often to Olivia, unsure of what exactly he would say to her. He watched as she twirled the simple band round her finger over and over, the piece of metal unfamiliar, and now a reminder that they were bound to one another for the rest of their lives. His throat somewhat constricted at the thought, and he pushed it aside as he concentrated on answering a question the Earl posed to him regarding his thoughts on the latest horse race.