The Duke She Wished For Page 7

  She nearly tackled Jennings and shoved him through the door with herself hot on his heels.

  “Please move quickly,” she whispered as they dashed through the alley toward where he’d parked the carriage. “I would rather he not follow.”

  In no time, she saw Tillie standing outside the chaise and she brightened on first glance. She quickly seemed to sense something was the matter at Tabitha’s expression. It was only when Tabitha frantically motioned for Tillie to get into the vehicle did she actually move and get in.

  Once Tabitha had squarely gotten herself in the carriage and Jennings had closed it, she let out a sharp breath.

  “What, in all that is holy, just happened, Tabitha Blackmore?” Tillie demanded as the carriage rolled away, mercifully fast. “Did you rob the chocolate shop or something?”

  Tabitha stole a glance out her window and spotted Nicholas run into the alley, scanning the crowd for her as he stood higher than most.

  “What have you done?” Tillie whispered with a laugh, her face suddenly next to hers. “That’s him, isn’t it? That’s Nicholas Fairchild?”

  As though he heard his name whispered through the air, his head snapped in their direction and for a brief second his eyes met Tabitha’s. She yelped and shrank back, pulling the curtain closed and breathing hard, her hand over her heart.

  “Oh, dear girl,” Tillie was teasing now. “What did you just do?”

  It took a moment for Tabitha to catch her breath and reply.

  “Only have the best conversation of my entire life.”

  Tillie smirked and leaned back in her seat, a knowing grin on her face.

  12

  Days later, Tabitha was still glowing from her unexpected encounter with Nicholas and trying to remember each word they had spoken to hold in her memories, as she knew she would likely never see him again.

  She was moving down Pembroke Street with a stack of three boxes in her arms on her way to deliver a set of afternoon bonnets to the wife and daughters of a china and linen merchant. They were hosting a racing party in two days. The order had been rushed and the pay had been good, so Tabitha believed a personal delivery wasn’t asking too much.

  She had her head down and only chanced to look up when she swore she heard that familiar voice again.

  “No,” she whispered to herself. “Not now. Not now. Not now.”

  She peeked a glance around the stack of boxes and, sure enough, she spied Nicholas Fairchild walking with another gentleman toward her. In a panic and running out of time, she ducked in between two buildings and hid behind her hat boxes as the men walked past. Waiting until she no longer heard his voice, she crept from the alleyway and peeked. All clear. Moving faster and with greater purpose knowing Nicholas was out and about, Tabitha delivered her packages quickly and didn’t stay for the tea the women had offered her.

  “Thank you,” she said kindly refusing. “I really must return home. It’s of utmost importance I get there post haste.”

  They had been kind and understanding and soon Tabitha was making her way home, looking over her shoulder every few steps, hoping and praying she would soon be out of danger, free from a potential run-in with the duke.

  Turned out, danger was waiting just around the next corner and she sailed headlong into “danger’s” broad chest.

  With an oomph, she collided with the very same Nicholas Fairchild she’d been working so hard to avoid.

  “Of all the luck,” she cursed to herself as she righted her bonnet and tried her best to look natural.

  “This cannot be happening?” Nicholas laughed with a shake of his head. “Surely now you must believe it is fate, too? You ran off last week and did not leave me an address or anywhere I could find you. Believe me when I say that I have been in this blasted neighborhood every day since hoping to run into you again and here you are—literally running into me.”

  She gave a lame laugh and shielded her eyes against the sun beating down into her face.

  “Yes,” she half-laughed. “Imagine that.”

  He looked around her, probably in search of Jennings.

  “Where is your groom?”

  She shrugged.

  “I, that is to say—we,” she faltered. “We were supposed to meet and I am afraid I have lost him.”

  “And so you were walking home alone?”

  She blanched.

  “No,” she said quickly. “That is to say, I was on my way to meet my friend at Rochester’s once I was finished and I will just walk there. Now. On my feet.”

  She closed her eyes at that. How could she turn into such a blithering idiot in this man’s presence? They were still close enough to nearly touch, so she took a step back for propriety’s sake as people began to take notice of them while they blocked the flow of foot traffic along the sidewalk.

  “If we cannot find your groom, would you permit me to take you to the dress shop?” He offered his arm and she hesitated. She really should try to disappear into the crowd again, but her heart was telling her to allow herself one more moment with this charming man.

  “Very well,” she said and tried not to react at the warmth of him beneath his coat. He was perfect. He was utterly perfect and very soon, if things went as they should, she would never see him again.

  They made their way to his chaise and she allowed him to show her in. He sat across from her while his driver clucked at the two horses and they began to roll toward the shopping district. She knew the chance was slim that Tillie would actually be in Rochester’s but she had a better chance at parting ways with him there than in the middle of the street where she stood without an escort.

  Across from her, Nicholas’ dark eyes were fixed on her and she blinked under the scrutiny.

  “What is it?” She asked, checking her hair and her person for a stray piece of feather or leaf that she often had attached to her after a long day of work.

  “You haunt me,” he said quietly. His eyes were downturned now, as he studied his hands. “You give me no reason to, but I find myself constantly thinking about the next time I may be fortunate enough to see you. And then you disappear over and over again, and still, I hold out hope that it is not the last time I will be in your presence. Why?”

  The oxygen in the cab had left and Tabitha couldn’t draw a full breath. He was saying what she was feeling and she wanted nothing more than for this to be a perfect world where she and the duke were on equal footing and could follow this passion and fascination for one another to see where it went.

  “My mother is throwing a masqued ball,” he said, breaking his own spell. “I want you to come. I cannot think of anything else. Say you will come.”

  Tabitha paused, studying the handsome slope of his face. How his eyes burned and his full lips parted as he seemed to hold his breath. She understood now how women like Sabine plotted and schemed to get closer to this man, though she craved his nearness for who he was as a person, not what title he was on paper. In fact, she would prefer he were not a duke but a common man, one whom she had a chance at happiness with.

  “I am not sure,” she began but he put his finger against her lips, stopping her words and her heart.

  “Please, Tabitha,” he said. “Agree that you will come. You can wear a mask. You can hide yourself from whatever it is you seem to be running from. But you must come.”

  She took a deep breath, not taking her eyes from his. Everything told her that saying no was what she should do. That saying no would keep her safe from heartbreak and him safe from scandal.

  No, just say no, she told herself.

  “Yes,” she whispered as she pulled back from his finger. “I shall come.”

  From beneath the seat he pulled a gold envelope and put it on the seat beside her. She moved to open it but stopped as he leaned forward, invading her space with his scent, his heat, and his intentions.

  He moved so close that she could feel the warmth from his lips radiating on her own, but he did not kiss her. It was as though he was waiti
ng for her to decide whether or not they would take this further. Again, the war began between what her mind was telling her was the wise thing to do and what her heart was practically begging her to do. She should back away, thank him for the invitation and be on her way. But her heart wanted this so much it would not listen to her mind.

  Not second guessing the urge as she felt it, she pushed her lips against his, hoping that she was not too forward and that she had not misinterpreted his intentions. When he inhaled sharply, she had a moment of panic, thinking that she’d read the situation entirely wrong. She should not have--

  He cut off her thoughts with a swipe of his tongue against her lips, the sensation sending a thrill straight to her core. It was electric. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced and before she knew it, she was pressing harder into him, demanding more.

  Nicholas threaded his fingers into the hair behind her neck and pulled her harder against him, this time his tongue dipping past her lips and into her mouth. She could not help the moan she let out as she clung to him like she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her above water.

  She was being led and followed willingly, happily. The sensations bursting through her mind, body, and soul were unlike anything she’d ever experienced and this was only kissing. She could not begin to imagine what lay beyond this realm.

  He assaulted her tongue with his and once she was accustomed to it, she gave as good as she got, demanding from him and insisting he keep at it.

  It was intoxicating. She was woozy from it and when the carriage came to a jerking halt and she crashed forward against him, she looked up to find Nicholas Fairchild looking nearly as dazed as she felt.

  “Your secrets are in danger,” he whispered to her, their eyes locked. “I will know every last part of you and each and every piece will be mine.”

  She only gave a slight shake of her head before she pushed herself back to her own seat seconds before his footman opened the door and waited for her.

  “I shall see you in three days, Tabitha,” he said cryptically and with a nod. “And then many more beyond that.”

  She doubted it very much but gave him a quiet farewell before disembarking from the carriage and making her way into the shop. She had to wait until he was well and good away, so she took the opportunity to peruse the dresses and hats that she and Tillie had on display.

  “I want that one, Mamma,” she heard the very distinct, very nasal sound of Frances’ voice giving a fit on the far side of the shop. It broke through the dreamy cloud that had surrounded Tabitha since she left Nicholas and his carriage. She froze and slunk back toward the door, desperate to escape before Ellora discovered her.

  “I am not going to the Duchess of Stowe’s masquerade in a dress that I have been seen in before,” Frances’ fit was reaching a height now. “I refuse. I need a new gown and I do not care how we get it.”

  The store clerk was murmuring some soothing words, but Tabitha snuck a glance and saw Frances all but balled up on the floor in the midst of a fine temper tantrum. Her heart sank. How had they gotten the same invitation that she had? She turned the fine gold envelope over in her hand. It would be beyond risky to go now that her stepmother and stepsister were planning to attend but the thought of not attending crushed her soul.

  She pressed the invitation to her chest and hurried out of the store, suddenly more worried of running into Frances and her stepmother than from another ride in the duke’s carriage. As if he had not made a strong enough impression on her the last few times they’d met, she was quite certain her lips would be full and bruised for days after that thorough introduction to kissing he’d given her.

  And she wanted more. So much more.

  Tabitha raced home, hoping to get there long before her family did so that she could stash her own invitation as she wondered how she would find a gown in time. The ball was in just three days.

  13

  Her answer came two days later, just as she and Tillie were sitting in the shop’s workroom, arguing over whether or not the entire idea was ludicrous.

  “I shall be exposed,” Tabitha cried for the fourth time. “He will find out I am a nobody and feel betrayed.”

  “You are not a nobody,” Tillie insisted. “You’re far from a nobody and he seems to really like you for you!”

  “What if I am discovered by Frances or her mother? That would be disastrous and then it would ruin the business on top of that. I am so close to having enough funds to leave for Paris.”

  “You worry too much,” Tillie said with a dismissive wave of her hand as she focused on her sketches in front of her. “I cannot do it. I cannot get this sketch right!”

  Tillie balled the paper up and threw it in the waste bin.

  “When are we going to Rochester’s to find your gown?” She pressed Tabitha, who only shook her head.

  “It is not happening,” Tabitha replied. “Not only will this be a risk, but I do not have the money to spend on a new gown!”

  “Just a pity that I do not have something new for you,” Tillie continued, ignoring her friend. “My last new design went to Forester’s two weeks ago. I would have loved to have you wearing one of my gowns when the duke proposes to his mystery love.”

  She sighed wistfully as Tabitha rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  “It’s impossible, Tillie. You know that as well as I.”

  “Nonsense. It’s very possible,” Tillie countered. She suddenly threw down the pen and the design she was working on. “Why did I not think of it before? I shall take in one of my dresses for you. It should not be too much work, not if I spend the next few hours on it.”

  Tillie returned home as soon as possible to prepare the dress for Tabitha, leaving her in the workroom to daydream of dukes and masquerades. Tabitha was currently working on a mask for Frances, to match the dress she had found at Rochester’s.

  Tillie returned the next morning with a gorgeous navy blue dress she had designed herself.

  “Oh Tillie, how can I ever thank you!?” said Tabitha, holding the dress in front of her. Tillie had done a terrific job in taking in the dress here and there and she pushed Tabitha to try it on.

  They were standing in front of the mirror in the workshop admiring Tabitha when Frances and Ellora walked in.

  “My heavens!” cried Ellora. “Whatever do you have on and where are you going in it?”

  “It is Tabitha’s ballgown,” said Tillie triumphantly. “And it is no business of yours where she shall wear it!”

  “Tillie!” exclaimed Tabitha, shooting her friend a warning glare. “No Ellora, I am simply trying on one of the newest designs for -- for a friend of Tille’s.”

  “Do you not have orders to do? I say, you do not have the time to be standing around mod--”

  Ellora was interrupted when Frances came barrelling into the room, stopping short when she saw Tabitha standing in front of them, stunning in the long gown.

  “Oh Mother, that’s it! It’s perfect!”

  Tabitha looked at her in confusion. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “That’s the dress I shall wear to the masquerade tomorrow! It’s beautiful and will look so lovely on me.”

  “I think not. This dress is on hold for my friend,” responded Tillie.

  “You already have a gown for the masquerade,” said Ellora to Frances.

  “But I want it Mother!” whined Frances in her nasally tone, on the edge of a fit.

  “Fine then, Frances. We shall buy it,” Ellora said.

  “But, I —” Tillie tried desperately to keep the dress from Frances while keeping Tabitha’s secret.

  “I will not take no for an answer,” said Ellora to Tillie, pulling out her pocketbook. “And I will call Rochester’s directly to advise them of my purchase.”

  Tabitha angrily began taking off the dress. “Here,” she said, handing it to Frances. “It’s yours.”

  She re-dressed hurriedly when Ellora, who had been eyeing her with suspicion, added, “
We had some new orders come in Tabitha. I expect you will have them completed by the day after tomorrow.”

  “You cannot be serious!” Tabitha exclaimed. “When did they come in? That is an extremely short deadline. They cannot expect us to --”

  “But they do. I know it may mean for a late night of work tomorrow, but I do know how much you enjoy it,” she said with a sly grin.

  Tillie began to protest but stopped when Tabitha gave her a quick shake of her head and motioned her to follow her out of the room.

  “I’m so sorry about your dress Tillie,” said Tabitha when they were out of earshot.

  “Oh, make no mind of that,” Tillie replied. “I will arrange everything with Rochester’s to receive payment for it. What we need to determine is your gown for the ball.”

  “It’s over, Tille,” said Tabitha.

  Tillie did everything she could to convince Tabitha to attend the masquerade. She begged, pleaded, sent Jennings for another dress, but it was to no avail.

  “I think it’s pretty clear I am not meant to attend this masquerade,” said Tabitha. “I do not have a dress to wear, I have multiple orders to complete, my stepmother and stepsister will be there, and besides all of that, the duke is expecting Tabitha Kenmore, and I am done with lying to him. When he finds out the truth, our time together will be over. It is easier this way, if I do not attend in the first place.”

  Tillie continued her arguments when a knock at the door interrupted them. The door opened and Mr. McEwan stepped inside, holding a large garment bag.

  “Miss Blackmore, Miss Andrews,” he greeted the woman as he hung the dress up on a hook in the corner of the shop. “Lovely to see you again. I am sorry I cannot stay. The household is in quite the furor because of the party this evening. My wife sends this and her regards and cannot wait to see you. Good day!”

  And just like that, he was gone. Tillie didn’t hesitate and jumped to look at what Lorna had sent. Pulling the gown free of its casings, she gasped at the gorgeous golden, shimmery silk the housekeeper had managed to not only find, size, and clean, but have delivered to Tabitha on the eve of the ball.