Duke of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) (12 page)

A shock of excitement rushed through her. She wanted to kiss him again, had wanted to since that first kiss when he’d opened the door to possibilities that had never before existed. But she knew a kiss could be dangerous. Logic screamed out that she say no. “I’ve never heard of such a custom,” she whispered, already feeling tingles of excitement racing through her body.

“I can assure you the custom exists,” he murmured as he reached up to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. He traced along her jaw with his fingertip, and she shivered. He tipped her chin up and looked deeply into her eyes, and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips against hers. Their breath mingled and Lucy faltered, thinking she might swoon, and then she responded to his kiss hungrily, without knowing what she hungered for, pressing her inexperienced lips against his.

He pulled her to him, his hand pressing into the small of her back, and she molded her body to his without thought. His lips moved against hers, slowly at first, and then with increasing ardor, his invading tongue tangling with hers in a rhythm so sensual she forgot herself and their surroundings.

There was a clatter at the door, and Eleanor’s shocked voice called out, “Captain Wainright!”

Lucy jumped and the captain—
Derek
—slowly released her. Disappointment flooded all her senses.

“My apologies, Lady Callister,” he said, his cool demeanor betraying none of the passion they had just shared. “Is it not the custom in England to seal a betrothal with a kiss?”

“In England, sir, it is not the custom for a man to visit a lady in her bedchamber, betrothal or no, as I am quite sure you know. I must ask you to leave.”

“I will do your bidding, madam, for my business here is finished.” He looked at Lucy. “I will return three weeks from Saturday next, and we will be wed. I’ll arrange for everything, including those matters we discussed. You need do nothing except be here when I return. Where would you like the ceremony to be held?”

Lucy blinked. This was no dream. They were settling details of the wedding. “I-I suppose it would be best to have it here at Stonecrest. We have a small chapel on the estate, but no curator as yet.”

“I’ll take care of that matter as well. Shall we say nine o’clock on that morning?”

She nodded mutely, unable to meet his gaze as the reality set in. Her lower lip trembled.

He took her hand and gently turned it over, pressing a tender kiss to her palm, and then said for her ears only, “Whatever the next three weeks bring to you, I want you to remember that you’ve made a good bargain. You will have everything you want, and I will be more than kind to you.”

She looked up into his somber gray eyes and nodded again, hoping what he said was true but knowing she had no choice. He strode to the door, stopped, and then turned to bow politely to her and her aunt before taking his leave.

The door clicked shut and Lucy faced her aunt.

“It is done, just as you said it would be. It seems I can’t even ruin my reputation properly.” Her words sounded hollow, and she was on the verge of tears but knew the tears would not come. She was past crying now.

“At least I will have what I’ve always wanted. We made a bargain. He’ll turn my dowry over to me, and I’ll be able to use it as I please. It’s more than I should expect, really. Another man would not be as generous.”

“Is that all that matters, then? That you have your money? Do you think you could come to love him?”

Lucy looked away for a moment and then sighed in resignation. “I don’t know. There
is
an attraction between us, but he is an American privateer. When his business in England is finished, he will surely return to his home, and I could never leave Stonecrest. If I did come to love him, his leaving would be a hard thing to bear. I think the best I can do for myself is be content with my bargain and seek nothing more.”

Eleanor took Lucy’s hand in hers and squeezed, fighting the despair she felt for her sister’s child. She had promised to see to Lucy’s happiness, and she would. Whatever Lucy had done, her heart had been in the right place, and Eleanor couldn’t say the same about Lucy’s betrothed.

She thought of the young duke-to-be with the seductive smile she’d met sixteen years ago, and her mouth tightened in resolution. She would travel to Dorrington as soon as the wedding was over.

Then she would know what to do.

T
he next three weeks flew by, and Lucy grew more nervous with each passing day. Though she tried to put thoughts of her impending marriage out of her mind, she could not, for everywhere she looked she saw evidence of the changes that were taking place.

A flurry of activity began the very day Derek left for London, and it hadn’t slowed even now. Roads had been raked and swept, grasses cut, and hedges manicured. The old chapel had a new coat of paint and a mended roof, and hundreds of baskets filled with flowers had been set along its path, beckoning passersby to its door.

The villagers, too, seemed different, their steps livelier, their smiles brighter. It was as if Derek had cast a spell over everyone, indeed, over every living thing, for even the stray cat with a litter of kittens tucked away in the stable seemed to change from suspicious to trusting overnight, not only allowing Lucy to check on the tiny kittens, but actually purring and rubbing against her legs, as well.

And he had cast a spell over her too. With one exhilarating kiss he made her long for something she’d never thought to have, and during the darkness of night, she had imagined what it would be like to embrace whatever he had to offer for however long it lasted.

But reality quickly overtook fantasy.

She didn’t believe his story about his reputation and business being destroyed, and he could have no intention of remaining in England. He was marrying her for some other reason, a reason she would someday discover, and when she did, if she harbored the memory of one moment of tenderness between them, that knowledge would surely crush her.

And so it would be. She would stick to her bargain and marry him for the good of Stonecrest, but he wouldn’t have her heart or even the tiniest glimpse of it.

She could never let that happen.

D
erek wished to hell he’d gotten more than two hours of sleep. He’d left London on horseback in the wee hours of the morning and arrived in Chelton with just enough time to bathe and close his eyes for what seemed like ten minutes before he had to be dressed and waiting in the chapel for his bride.

His ship, The Siren, was in perfect condition and his entire crew had signed on for the voyage—minus his cabin boy, Jimmy, who had been left in Baltimore per Derek’s orders because of his young age. Derek could have hired a crew in London for a quarter of the amount he would put out for his own men, but he needed men he could trust completely.

Though the news about his ship was good, preparations had not gone as expected. The two largest cargoes had been delayed, still not arriving to London by the time Derek left, which meant that either Stephen must supervise their loading alone, or Derek must return earlier than planned. Stephen said he didn’t mind taking care of the shipments, but Derek wasn’t sure he meant it; the uncertainty regarding the cargoes’ arrivals and Derek’s inability to do anything about it seemed to work its way into every conversation the two men had. They’d almost come to blows once over Stephen’s critical remarks, and Derek found himself wishing he’d tried harder to track down his childhood friend, Jack. Jack’s temperament more closely matched Derek’s. They both saw problems as challenges to be won, while Stephen saw them as proof that Derek had overlooked something. Derek knew he and Stephen were both edgy, and so he kept his temper in check. He was relieved, though, when it was time to leave for Stonecrest. His patience had worn too thin to explain to Stephen even one more time that no amount of planning could ensure that everything would run smoothly.

Another disappointment was the fact that no one by the name of Summerfield had contacted him, nor did any of the sailors around the docks seem to recognize the name when he slipped it into conversations. Eventually he asked Stephen straight out if he knew the man, but Stephen’s face had been as blank as every other.

In the midst of it all, his steward, James Curtis, along with his family attorney, had arrived in London per Derek’s request. They spent two days going over the terms of Derek’s new will, as well as all the estate details that would require attention if he did not return from his trip. Derek was accustomed to making detailed plans, but planning for the event of his own demise had taken an emotional toll.

Finally, there was the matter of Lord Chelton and his wheat.

The bowing out of one of Derek’s customers at the last moment had left him with too little cargo for a profitable voyage. He didn’t care if it was profitable, but sailing under such conditions would certainly raise eyebrows; no successful privateer would do such a thing.

Remembering Chelton’s request, and having no alternative on such short notice, he had reluctantly agreed to carry the wheat. It irritated him exceedingly to abet the man since he was sure Chelton had been conducting such business since he took over the management of Stonecrest. At the same time he couldn’t help but wonder if the Stonecrest crates would be filled with something besides wheat, and he planned to check them before setting sail. Chelton could be the leader of the gang, after all, or he might be just what he appeared to be: a selfish, greedy man.

Derek thought of the barren fields he’d ridden past and of the fields off in the distance that had been harvested, though not to Stonecrest’s benefit, and his jaw tightened. The man was despicable, and Derek was sorry Lucy had suffered such behavior. She deserved better and so did the village of Chelton, with its friendly people, charming inn and shops, and picturesque countryside, and he would see that they got what they deserved.

As for Lucy . . . she deserved even more than he could give her right now. She deserved an untarnished reputation, yet he could do nothing about that until the masquerade was over.

He glanced around the chapel. Sadly, no one of any social consequence was present for their wedding other than Stephen and Lady Foxworth, and though he didn’t approve of Lucy’s friendship with the widow, he was grateful that at least one member of London high society was standing by her.

He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Truth to tell, he was more than a little nervous. The idea of becoming a husband in the middle of his masquerade seemed dishonorable. For the marriage to be legal, he felt the papers must bear his legal name, and so he’d sent for a minister whom he could trust to perform the ceremony. Even so, he would need to distract Lucy during the signing of the papers. He couldn’t take the chance of her noticing the surname of Wentworth rather than Wainright.

The contract stating the particulars of their personal agreement had been sent to her for signature the evening before, but he hadn’t felt the necessity of putting his legal name on that paper. That contract was, after all, merely a sign of his good will. Once she knew the truth, she would see the silliness of such an agreement. He didn’t need her money, nor did he want it. He’d set up a very generous annual trust for use at her discretion for as long as he lived, and he’d executed a new will which would make her one of the wealthiest women in England, should she survive him. She would not know any of this for a while, not until the masquerade was behind them.

The thought of revealing his true identity to Lucy brought a smile to his face. She would be ecstatic to be a duchess rather than the wife of a privateer, especially a duchess beyond comparison in terms of wealth and property. He pictured her residing over Dorrington Hall, her gentle grace and natural elegance making her the pride of all who served him, and his heart warmed. He could hardly wait to introduce her to his family and to her new life there. She could leave all this worry about Stonecrest and the people of Chelton behind her, knowing everything would be cared for, while she took her place in society as Duchess of Dorrington. She would have a much easier life, and he was glad to be able to give that to her. Still, he disliked deceit and wasn’t looking forward to the wedding ceremony for that reason alone.

The chapel was overflowing, and many people huddled outside, pressing against the open windows. His gaze wandered over the sea of faces, and he nodded in recognition to those he had met the day he departed for London, receiving pleased looks in return. He had settled Lucy’s accounts, not wanting her to spend her dowry for things her greedy uncle should have taken care of, and he knew the villagers appreciated his generosity.

As many of the people began to turn toward the door in anticipation of Lucy’s arrival, his eyes settled on three men—the blacksmith, the iron master, and the stonemason—who stood proud and self-assured at the rear of the church, holding back the surge of people, making sure there was a path for the bride from door to altar. He’d chosen the three, knowing they would be well-respected by their peers, and had entrusted them with the task of readying the village and Stonecrest for the wedding, giving them a more than generous amount of coin to carry out his wishes. They were obviously proud of the honor and trust bestowed upon them, just as he’d known they would be. Managing people came easily to him, and Lucy would be just as easy to manage.

As minutes passed, guests began to exchange glances and whispers, and Derek felt the first threads of apprehension. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his timepiece, becoming uneasy when he saw that Lucy was more than a quarter hour late. He relaxed with relief an instant later when Lady Callister arrived. His relief was short-lived, however; Lucy’s aunt was alone.

“Where is she?” he asked in a hushed tone when Eleanor drew near enough for a private conversation.

“She’s outside in the carriage. She wanted some time to think.” Eleanor gave him a sympathetic look, but her face was tight with worry.

Derek glanced around the chapel. Expressions had turned from a collective one of anticipation and good will to one of distrust as the villagers began to cast wary glances in his direction. They loved their lady of the manor and probably wondered why she wasn’t hastening to take her vows. He was losing what little ground he’d gained with these people. This would not do.

After whispering his apologies to the minister, he turned and strode out of the chapel, smiling and nodding at people whose demeanors were much less cordial than they’d been only moments ago. The coach he’d hired for the occasion stood at the side of the narrow dirt road less than twenty yards away, its driver huddled in his seat. When Derek threw open the door, he found Lucy sitting alone, staring out the window. She turned her head toward him and raised her eyes unsteadily to meet his.

The fear and sadness in that look almost undid him, and he was tempted to reveal his identity then and there. But he didn’t. Instead, he climbed in and settled down next to her. Before she could utter a word, he enveloped her trembling body in his arms and pulled her gently onto his lap, cradling her as he would a babe.

“There, there, Lucy, it will be all right,” he whispered. “Everything will turn out all right. You’ll see.”

As soon as he spoke, Lucy crumbled. She buried her face in his coat and tears began to spill. When she opened her mouth to speak, a small sob escaped, and then she again fell silent. Derek held her even tighter, and an overpowering protectiveness surged through him. He hated to see her suffering and wished he could allay her fears. Even more than that, he hated that he couldn’t be honest with her, that he’d had to take the position of bargaining her into a marriage she didn’t want.

Feeling like a cad and not liking the feeling very much, he reminded himself that Lucy had brought this trouble on herself through her own scheming. But he found no comfort in that thought, not when she lay against him quietly weeping on her wedding day. Managing to extricate a handkerchief from his pocket, he set her back and began to gently wipe away her tears.

“Lucy, if you’ll be logical about this, you’ll see you’ve fared very well for yourself. You will be an independent, married woman of considerable means, able to do as you please, and you’ll have your beloved Stonecrest to manage. And as for the consummation of our marriage, you’ve been given a one-month reprieve, which I expect is more than any other young lady can boast.”

Lucy jerked upright at Derek’s mention of the dreaded consummation, her already fractured nerves fraying. Why she was suddenly so frightened of
that,
she didn’t know, but she supposed it was because up until this very day, she’d told herself it would never happen, that he would leave her well before the month was up. Even her uncle mentioned on his visit the week before that it was common knowledge the captain was leaving soon for a long journey, and his words had implied that Derek would not be back.

She had no doubt her uncle was right. By the time Derek left, he would surely have finished whatever business he had in England, and if there was something he wanted from her, he would undoubtedly have that as well. Still, it was her wedding day and she was worried the consummation might somehow take place, that he might somehow seduce her into it. She had, in fact, spent the entire night and morning fretting over it.

He seemed to guess at her thoughts for he stroked her hair saying, “Lucy, my sweet, you have nothing to be afraid of, certainly not me. I could never do anything to hurt you. Don’t you realize that?”

Lucy nodded, already feeling her fear abate in the face of his understanding. How could she be afraid of such a man? He’d treated her with nothing but benevolence when even she knew she didn’t deserve it after what she’d done. And now, on their wedding day, when another man would be furious with his bride for acting like a child, he held her, soothing away her fears.

She looked into his eyes, seeing only kindness there. Kindness and warmth. He was so very handsome and so wonderfully built. Any other woman would be thrilled to be in his arms like this, and she had to admit to herself that she was thrilled too. He always smelled so wonderful, and he was so strong and so smart. His eyes were so seductive, his jaw so firm and his lips so . . . so . . .

She reached up to touch his lips and then she was kissing him, not even knowing if she had begun it or if he had, but not caring because she wanted his kiss more than she’d wanted anything in her life. Aching with an intense longing, she touched her tongue to his lips and he shuddered, his lips parting against hers, and then his tongue was plunging and retreating, over and over, the sensation sending her into a whirling abyss of pleasure.