A Duke but No Gentleman (30 page)

Everyone was waiting for them to enter the ballroom. At the appropriate time, the Duke of Trevett would announce to family and friends Imogene and Tristan's betrothal. He had already given her a ring, but he had his grandmother's ring tucked away in his waistcoat pocket. It was a yellow gold ring with seven rose-cut diamonds, the largest stone in the center with two medium-sized diamonds on either side and the smallest stones nestled above and below the row. The ring would initially be loose on her slender finger, but she would be grateful for the ill fit once their child rounded her figure.

And he was convinced she was pregnant.

The knowledge made his cock twitch, which was embarrassing when they had a ballroom filled with people waiting for them. Besides, the damn thing should be sated. He and Imogene had spent the entire afternoon in his bed, and when he was not making love to her, he had taken his time exploring her body. He noted her breasts were slightly fuller and more sensitive to his caresses. There was a glow to her skin and her appetite for all manner of things had increased. Not that Tristan was complaining. He loved the subtle changes, and he looked forward to discovering new ones.

Tristan could not wait until he could place the palm of his hands against her round stomach and feel his son shift within Imogene's womb. And this child was his. His instincts were never wrong. This child and Imogene were his family, and he vowed to protect them with his life if necessary.

As for Norgrave, he could go to hell. He and his manipulative lies would never touch Imogene again.

The front door opened. Tristan's expression brightened at the sight his friend Lord Jasper.

The earl sent him an apologetic look as he handed his hat and walking stick to the footman. “I know I am late. Have I missed the big announcement?”

“It was a near thing, but you have arrived just in time. It is good of you to come.” Tristan and the earl embraced. “What the devil happened? Lame horse?”

“Nothing like that. I was delayed at the club, and you would not believe the juicy bit of gossip I have just heard,” he said, his face flushed as if he had run the entire distance.

“What has happened?”

“I have news about a certain gentleman.” Jasper's brown eyes gleamed with excitement. “As far as I am concerned, come morning it will most likely bury the wonderful news of your upcoming nuptials to Lady Imogene, but it cannot be helped. Not when the calamity that has befallen him is very much deserved.”

Tristan's expression became shuttered. It was easy to deduce the gentleman was Norgrave. If someone had finally put a bullet or sword in the scoundrel, he would offer a toast to the assassin.

“Is he dead?”

The earl laughed. “No, but I am certain he wishes he was.” He stepped closer so they could not be overheard. “There was a time when you called this gentleman your friend.”

Tristan crossed his arms over his chest. “No more, so nothing you say will offend me.”

“Then you are quite aware of his preferences when it comes to lovers, and that his carnal appetites can be unsavory to the uninitiated.”

Sick dread pooled in Tristan's gut. “I am.”

Jasper gripped one of the balusters. “While this gentleman was recuperating from an unfortunate accident”—his steady gaze revealed that he knew who was responsible and that he was merely uttering the gossip that was circulating through the
beau monde
—“he encountered Lady Charlotte Winter. A friendship bloomed between them, though the couple did their best to keep it a secret.”

Tristan swore under his breath. Lady Charlotte was a sweet, gentle creature. Like Imogene, she could not fathom the darkness that resided in Norgrave. Nor the pleasure he derived from hurting others.

“No lady would fare well under this gentleman's care,” he predicted.

“Lady Charlotte discovered this unfortunate fact for herself. This unpleasant business has no place at your betrothal ball, but I thought you should know the details that have been passed on to me. The poor girl was beaten and abused in the most heinous fashion. To add further insult, the bastard stuffed her in a hired coach and ordered the coachman to return her to her family.”

Tristan shut his eyes. “Merde.” He could imagine the pain and terror the lady must have suffered at the marquess's hands. “He gets bolder with each victim. This is too public for her family to hush up. Has he been dragged before a magistrate or did the family put a bullet in Norgrave's black heart?”

“Regrettably, he has escaped both fates. Once Lady Charlotte's brothers learned of her lover's cruelty, they went straight to his house and a violent brawl ensued. Norgrave was beaten until he was unconscious and his legs were broken. Though it is still uncertain that he will survive his injuries, the lady's family solicited favors to secure a special license to spare the humiliation of Lady Charlotte possibly giving birth to his bastard. She is his countess, and mayhap in the coming days, his widow. Either way, Norgrave has been punished for his sins.”

“For the lady's sake, I hope the devil claims him,” Tristan muttered, feeling nothing but pity for the new Lady Norgrave. “He would make a poor husband for any lady.”

“Aye, my thoughts exactly,” Jasper said. He released the baluster. “I should go in and pay my respects to your aunt and uncle. “Will you walk with me?”

He shook his head. “I am waiting for my lady.”

“You are a lucky man.” The earl clasped his hand on Tristan's shoulder. “I will greet your lady properly later.”

Tristan waited until Jasper walked away to join the other guests. “How much did you hear?”

He glanced up the staircase and saw Imogene poised on the steps. Her face was pale, but her gait was regal and steady as she descended the remaining steps.

“I did not mean to eavesdrop. You and Lord Jasper were deep in conversation and I did not wish to interrupt.” Her eyes were dry, but she shivered when he placed his arm around her. “Poor Lady Charlotte.”

Uncertain what he could do to comfort her, he kissed her. It calmed him when she kissed him back. “It is not your fault. Everyone knew the lady was smitten with him. If her own family could not keep her away from him, then there was nothing you or I could have said or done to prevent this outcome.”

Looking a little lost, she nodded. “I know. I was fooled by him once, too.”

Helpless rage rose up like bile in his throat. Tristan hoped the lady's family had the forethought to castrate Norgrave. Gazing at Imogene's forlorn expression, he wished he had done the deed himself.

“He has stolen enough from us, Imogene. Are you planning to let him ruin your betrothal ball?”

The question seemed to bring her up short. Determination shimmered in her blue gaze. “Of course not!”

Tristan offered Imogene his arm. “Then let us be off. I cannot wait to tell all of London that you will soon become my duchess.”

She rewarded him with a smile. “Between my parents and you shouting the news from the rooftops, I highly doubt it is a secret.”

Imogene halted before the closed doors. “Do you intend to tell everyone about the baby?”

“In a month or two will suffice.” He did not have the heart to tell her that when their child arrived months early, everyone would know that she had been a willing participant in his wicked seduction. By then, she would be happily married and very few would care that she had anticipated her marriage bed.

He would deal with the people rude enough to point that fact out to her.

“Have I told you that I love you?”

Imogene laughed. “Not in a few hours. If you can wait until after the ball, you can sneak into the bedchamber Aunt Ruth has prepared for me and tell me in private.”

“A lady after my own heart.”

The footmen opened the double doors and the ballroom beckoned.

“I already have it, Your Grace,” she said smugly.

Tristan grinned. He did not deny the charge. His future bride had an annoying habit of always being right.

 

Epilogue

Seven and a half months later …

 

She was suffering and it was all his fault.

Tristan dropped the glass of brandy his father-in-law had pressed into his hand minutes ago at the muffled scream behind the closed door. The glass shattered at his feet, but he was oblivious. Imogene needed him, but he had been ordered by the females attending his duchess to stay away.

“Tristan, you have done your part, let her do hers without you hovering over her like a thundercloud. Imogene will worry about you when she should be saving her strength for the birth,” had been his aunt Ruth's calm response when he had initially refused to leave his wife's side. His aunt had been sympathetic to the fear she noted in his wild gaze, but nothing he had said would alter her decree.

“You should be waiting for the good news in your library, Blackbern,” his father-in-law grumbled. “For my daughters' births, I left the house and distracted myself by playing cards at my club.”

With Imogene so close to giving birth, Tristan had been reluctant to stray far from the house for weeks. It had been the middle of the night when he had awakened with Imogene standing beside the bed. She had taken the time to light a branch of candles so he could see her clearly. Her chemise was damp with sweat and her hands had been splayed over her swollen abdomen that felt like an impenetrable shell when he touched it.

“Your son is coming, Tristan,” she had told him.

Twelve hours had passed since she made her stark announcement.

“Your nerves are sturdier than mine. I would lose a bloody fortune if I played cards, Trevett,” he said, glaring at the closed door while a servant picked up the broken glass and mopped up the brandy.

“Why do you think I suggested it?” Imogene's father said, cuffing him on the back of the head with undisguised affection.

“What was that for?” Tristan demanded harshly.

“I am not senile, Blackbern, and I can count on my fingers.” The duke shook a finger at him. “If I had learned early on about the kind of mischief you were indulging in with my elder daughter, I might have paddled her backside before I tucked her away in one of my country estates to keep her out of your reach.”

Tristan snorted at the obvious falsehood. “And deny yourself the pleasure of a grandson to spoil? I doubt it. And, just to clarify, your daughter threw herself at me first. Your duchess will confirm it. You cannot blame me if I was shrewd enough to recognize a rare find when I had it wriggling against me and decided to keep her.” He aimed a finger in the older man's direction. “You should be thanking me.”

“I do in my prayers every day, son.” He clamped a hand on Tristan's shoulder and for a few seconds his fingers tightened. “My lower back is beginning to ache so I am heading downstairs. Are you sure you do not want to join me? If I pour enough brandy down your throat, you might actually feel better for it.”

Tristan shook his head and waved him off. He crouched down and settled on the floor so he could be close to the brave woman who was strong enough to bring his son into the world.

He let his forehead rest against his forearm and murmured a few whispered prayers. The past seven and a half months with Imogene at his side had been incredible. He loved her so much, and as the end of her pregnancy drew nearer, his anxiety had increased. Since he did not want to upset her, he had kept his fears to himself.

If I lose her now … how will I go on?

“Tristan?”

He blinked and stared blankly at his mother-in-law. Then he noticed her tears. He scrambled to his feet. “Is it Imogene? Is something wrong?” he asked, while his rising panic made him clumsy.

The dragon smiled at him and then did something most unexpected. She grabbed his face and kissed him firmly on the lips. “Imogene is fine and she is asking for you. Go inside, while I find my husband to share the good news.”

Tristan rushed into the room and discovered a very pale Imogene sitting in their bed. Someone had dressed her in a fresh chemise and a sheet had been pulled over her legs. She cradled their child in her arms. He ignored his aunt and the midwife as he strode directly to his duchess's bedside.

Imogene.

Their gazes locked and he could not conceive of loving her more than he did in that moment. She pushed back the blanket to reveal a thick cap of dark hair. “You have a son, Your Grace,” she softly said. “I cannot fathom why I doubted you. You always get your way.”

He supposed anyone who was listening would assume he and Imogene were referring to a friendly debate on whether they would have a boy or girl. Although they never spoke of Norgrave, he had been unable to completely banish her worries.

“I do my best.” Tristan sat down on the mattress beside her. He tentatively stroked his son's hair. The texture felt like down, and his relief that Imogene and his son were healthy threatened to unman him.

“It was kind of you to give me my heir first. I do not know about you, but I am not sure I can go through this again,” he said, half serious. The women behind him chuckled knowingly, but there were tears in his eyes as he stared down at the miracle they had created together.

Imogene clasped his hand and squeezed, quietly assuring him that she was fine. “In time, your son will want brothers and sisters to play with and torment. Will you deny him?”

And me?
Imogene's expression seemed to ask.

If she desired more children, how could he deny his duchess when she had given him everything? Tristan laughed as he leaned forward and kissed his wife. “Not at all, darling.”

*   *   *

Hours later, Tristan and Imogene introduced their son to his family. They had given the new Marquess of Fairlamb the name Mathias Ellis Rooke.

 

Coming soon…

Look for the next Masters of Seduction novel by bestselling author
ALEXANDRA HAWKINS