How to Lose a Duke in Ten Days (10 page)

Good God.

He tipped his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose, a sudden headache forming. The distinct odor of wet canine surrounded him, and he fought the urge to slam his fist into the nearest wall.  

This was Pippa’s doing.

It was no coincidence that he’d told her he detested dogs, only to have them left on his doorstep
en masse
days later. She was attempting to anger him, to force him to break off the engagement.  It was the only explanation that made sense. 

Lucas scowled at the stains that were left on the settee, chairs, and carpet. A shredded newssheet lay scattered across the floor, along with the remnants of what appeared to have once been a throw pillow.

“You couldn’t have put them somewhere less…furnished? Perhaps the cellar, or out on the street?”

Evelyn snatched up a black pug off the once-white settee and handed it to him with a scowl. He took it reluctantly. “If you are proposing I throw these poor little creatures into a cold cellar, then you simply have no soul.”

Lucas frowned down at the pug in his arms. It peered up at him with its scrunched, wrinkled face, and wide, deceptively sweet brown eyes. The damn animal knew he’d never see the inside of a cellar. He’d already won Evelyn over. They all had. Damn it all to hell.

Lucas held the dog away from him. “It smells.”

“He’s not an
it
and he has a name. Ashur,” Evelyn said, scratching the back of the dog’s ears. “Like the Assyrian God of War.”

“God of War, indeed,” he said flatly, holding the dog out to her. “Take it, and tell the servants to round the rest of them up and get rid of them.”

Evelyn didn’t take the dog. Instead, she placed her hands on her hips. “And where will we take them, exactly?”

“I couldn’t care less what you do with them. Just get them out!” He set Ashur down on the carpet. Instead of scurrying off with his brethren, he plopped down at Lucas’s feet, his wide brown eyes gazing up at him with undeniable affection.

Perfect. 

Evelyn
knew
he detested dogs. Their own home as children had been overrun with them—their numbers had multiplied by the day, it seemed.

“You are such a brute!” She glared and brushed past him, out of the room.

Arms crossed over his chest, he glanced down and narrowed his eyes at Ashur. “I blame you and your comrades for this.”

Ashur whined and pawed at Lucas’s boot.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Ashur whined again.

With a defeated sigh, Lucas swept the creature back up into his arms and strode out into the entryway, prepared to hand him over to Benson, when a knock sounded on the door.

God, was there no end to this infuriating nonsense?

Benson rose to his feet, but Lucas was closer the door and beat him to it. He would put an end to this right now. He flung the door open, prepared to see a fresh-faced debutante with a dog in her arms. Instead, Miss Welby stood at the threshold, a look of astonishment on her face. Mrs. Maddox stood behind her. 

“Just the woman I wanted to see,” he said.

“A duke answering the door. How very progressive.” Pippa pushed inside when he didn’t widen the door to invite her in, followed by Mrs. Maddox. Benson stepped forward and shut the door behind them. She held up a handful of lace. “I just came to drop off these swatches for the engagement ball—”

Two dogs rushed past them, into the adjoining corridor, cutting off her words. Seconds later, three footmen skidded around the corner, following the path the dogs had taken.

Her lips turned up impishly. “Did I call at an inopportune time?”

Lucas’s jaw tightened. “It would seem I have a pack of dogs running through my house. You wouldn’t happen to have any knowledge of this, would you?” 

Pippa’s gaze shifted from him to the pug in his arms. “Is this one of them?” she cooed. “He’s simply adorable.” She removed her glove and scratched him underneath the chin. “Aren’t you adorable? Yes, you most certainly are.” She glanced back up at Lucas, her green eyes shimmering with amusement. “What’s his name?”

Before thinking, he answered, “Ashur. Wait, no.” He shook his head. “He doesn’t have a name and he isn’t staying. He’s going back to wherever it is he came from.”

“I think he likes you.”

She smiled down at the dog with a look of pure joy on her face that made Lucas’s chest ache. What he would give to have her smile that way at
him
.  It was beautiful, bewitching, and almost worth keeping the damn animal if it meant she’d smile like that every day.

“I haven’t the faintest idea how, but I know you are responsible for all this,” he said. 

She blinked up at him, all sweetness and innocence—far
too
sweet and
too
innocent. She was a deplorable actress. “Responsible for what?”

“This goddamned menagerie!”

A smile touched her lips and he had the sudden, inescapable need to kiss her. It was maddening. The more she angered him, the more he felt his carefully planned world spinning out of control and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.  

“Well, I
may
have mentioned my intention to start up a sanctuary for vagrant dogs when I take up residence as the new duchess.” She paused, biting her bottom lip. “People seemed quite eager to help—the ladies especially.”  

Lucas drew in a deep, calming breath.  Anger flared in his gut and he fought to keep it tempered.

Ashur seemed to sense Lucas’s displeasure. He barked once and licked Lucas under the chin. Without breaking his intent focus on Pippa, Lucas lifted his hand and petted Ashur on his tiny, grapefruit-sized head.

“I distinctly remember telling you how much I detest dogs,” he said.

“Oh, did you?” she asked with a faint laugh. “How silly of me to forget.”

Her gaze dropped to his hand, and only then did he realize he was still stroking the dog. He stopped abruptly and placed Ashur on the floor. Again, the damn animal plopped down at Lucas’s feet and whined. 

“You may think I’m daft, Miss Welby, but I know when I am being made a fool. Your little act isn’t convincing.” He narrowed his eyes. “You will assist my sister in gathering up the rest of these animals and hand-deliver each one back to the streets they came from.”

“I happen to adore animals,” she said. “And I do believe it was
you
who said ‘whatever you wish, it’s yours’ just three days past.” She pulled her glove back on, then smiled up at him. “I’m afraid I don’t have much use for rubies or diamonds. But dogs, on the other hand, add life and vivacity to a household. You wouldn’t deny me that, would you?”

She was challenging him again—always challenging. He wasn’t surprised to have his words flung back at him. He should have known better than to make such a broad and undefined statement. If he gave in, he risked appearing weak. If he denied her, then there was little doubt she’d use it against him at some later date.

He clenched his jaw, his hands flexing and unflexing compulsively. “If you feel dogs would enliven our household, then I would by no means rob you of that pleasure.” He bowed stiffly, irritated that she’d bested him—in this, at least.  “Good morning, Miss Welby.”

Then he turned and headed for the sanctuary of his study.

*   *   *

Pippa was astonished when a note from Arlington arrived the following afternoon. After yesterday, she was sure he’d never want to see her again. She was counting on it, in fact.

During the three days he’d been away, she’d attended two balls, one musicale, and accepted countless invitations to tea. Now that she was engaged to the duke, she was quite popular, it seemed. Though her hosts were still keen to make subtle remarks about her “unfortunate” connection to trade.

Which was perfectly fine, because she’d taken every opportunity to drone on and on
and on
about her latest project. Nothing would please her more, she’d said, than opening up her home to lost and frightened animals.

It wasn’t far from the truth, in actuality. Rescuing animals had always been a dream of hers. And when the duke had said he
hated
dogs, it all seemed quite perfect.

She gazed down at the note in her hand. Curiosity burned within her and her heart lurched as she flicked the sealed parchment open.  

I have something to show you. Four o’clock. Be ready.

Pippa scoffed.
Be ready.
The man was positively barbaric.

And yet as annoyed as she felt, her heart skipped excitedly when she glanced up at the timepiece on the mantel and saw it was already nearly three thirty. She sprinted up the steps to her bedchamber to change into a fresh gown and try to make something of her hair. 

When Lucas arrived a half hour later, she was ready. She’d meant to make him wait, as any self-respecting lady would do, but decided she couldn’t possibly delay another moment to see him.

He waited in the parlor. As she walked into the room, he turned from the window to look at her, and all the air was instantly drawn from her lungs.  He wore a dark green coat that stretched over his broad shoulders, a matching waistcoat, and tan breeches that hugged his muscular thighs.

Hands clasped behind his back, he bowed. When he straightened, he glanced over her shoulder. “Where is your dragon?”

“Her hip has been troubling her, so I gave her the afternoon off. I’d planned on asking Rose to join us instead.”

“You’ll have no need of a chaperone,” he said. “We won’t be seen by anyone of consequence.”

“Oh?” She wasn’t sure she should trust him, but she rose to his comment anyway. “Perhaps I should be the judge of that. Where are you taking me?” 

“It’s a surprise. Are you ready?”

She placed her bonnet on her head and smiled. “I am.” 

Reaching out, he tied her bonnet’s thick, blue ribbon, securing the bow just beneath her chin. It was such an intimate gesture; she couldn’t help but feel cherished. A silly notion, of course. She doubted he cherished anyone apart from himself.  

Outside the air was cool, crisp, and a gentle breeze blew through the canopy of trees overhead. It was a beautiful day, perfect for an outing. And despite her good judgment, she found herself looking forward to an afternoon alone with him. 

She smiled and took his gloved hand as he helped her into his large carriage. Ashur, the pug, was curled up on the seat, a folded blanket tucked beneath him. 

She lifted a brow as Arlington took the seat opposite her, his back to the horses, and shut the door. “Dare I hope this little pug has managed to worm his way into your good graces?” 

He rapped on the roof and the carriage jolted into motion.

“Certainly not,” he said flatly, as though her statement vexed him a great deal. But she didn’t miss the light in his eyes, something that looked suspiciously akin to affection.  “He refuses to leave my side.”

She laughed. “I can hardly blame him.” 

He lifted a brow at that. “Indeed, I’m a quite shocked you accepted my invitation. You never fail to astonish me, Miss Welby. It’s what I appreciate most about you.”

“Oh, was that an invitation?” she asked sweetly. “It looked more like a decree to me. You know, you might try asking next time. You’d be surprised how far a little thoughtfulness can go.”

Everything he said was a command, a call to action. One must do this or that simply because he wished it. People treated him as though he was a god among men.

He stared at her from across the small space, his eyes intent, assessing. “Asking is a strategic weakness. It leaves one open to refusal. Commands are far more effective.”

“They are also incredibly uncivil.” 

He stared at her for a long moment, and then shrugged. “It makes little difference. I get what I want and that’s all that concerns me.”

Yes, he would see it that way. “That’s
all
that concerns you? Well, that’s certainly a depressing way to live.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he changed the subject entirely. “Dare I hope you find pleasure in my company?”

“You flatter yourself. I’m here because you’ve managed to find my weakness: curiosity. What is it you wish to show me?”  

“You shall see.”

“Oh, come now. Won’t you at least give me a hint?” 

He angled his head at her, as though studying an abstract painting. There was something different about him, something a bit more languid in the way he spoke, the ease with which he smiled at her, his tempting lips turned up at the edges. Those lips were most surely going to be the death of her.

“Perhaps, but what will you give me in return?” 

His hungry gaze raked up her body with slow, deliberate perusal, and her heart sped into overdrive. The look in his eyes was predatory, filled with wicked delights and heat instantly infused her core.   

“Very well.” She swallowed. “But just one kiss.”

He nodded once. “Whatever you wish.” His voice was deep, throaty,
sinful
. 

The carriage jostled as she spanned the short space across the compartment. Before she could lower herself next to him, his hands encircled her waist and he tugged her onto his lap. Every nerve sparked to life as he reached up and ran his finger across her bottom lip—a strangely intimate gesture that awoke something dormant inside her—the part of her that wanted to feel his touch wholly and completely, brushing across every inch of her skin.

“I’m going mad, Pippa.” His hand dropped away from her lip and trailed down her jaw, to the column of her neck, then down farther to the swell of her breasts. “I’m plagued by thoughts of you, day and night. This, what we have between us, is pushing me beyond my endurance.”

Yes, she knew the feeling.

Head tilted back, she let out a long breath, lost in the sensation of his touch. Wicked pleasure thrummed through her, until everything else faded. The jostling carriage, the passing city beyond, all gave way to the feel of his hands on her, the brush of his lips along her collarbone, the swirl of desire pulsing in her veins.

He cupped the back of her head and guided her head down, touching his lips to hers—a barely there touch, testing the waters, gauging her reaction. Her eyes fluttered closed, anticipating the next, more passionate kiss.