How to Lose a Duke in Ten Days (6 page)

God, he needed a drink.

“Please, Lucas. In a few months I’ll be old enough to marry without your approval. We will wed, one way or another.”    

Her hard tone was one he recognized. It was
his
tone, the same firm cadence he adopted when he wasn’t willing to accept defeat in any form. Which, he admitted to himself, was often. She’d been audience and recipient of that tone more often than he cared to count. She’d learned well.

Lucas sighed, raked a hand over his face, then leveled a glare at Crawford. “I will have my man to do a thorough check into your affairs.” He would sift through the earl’s finances, former courtships, his connections—every sordid detail of his life would be sliced open and laid bare, Lucas would make sure of it. “And if I find you’ve deceived my sister in any way, I will destroy you and everyone you love.”  

*   *   *

Later that morning, Pippa was jolted awake by a sharp knock on her bedroom door.

She lifted her head, sleep clinging to her like cobwebs. “Come in.” She plopped her head back down onto the feathery softness of her pillow. “If you must.” 

Rose entered, brown, wavy hair framing her oval face, making her look much younger than her twenty-three years.

“He’s here,” Rose said in a rush, her hazel eyes wide, panicked. “You must come downstairs at once.”

Pippa sat up and pushed the auburn curls out of her face. She glanced at the timepiece. Ten o’clock. She released a sharp breath. “Rose, you must slow down. Take a deep breath.
Who
is here?”

Rose was already at the wardrobe, sorting through Pippa’s collection of gowns. “His Grace,” she hissed impatiently. “He’s waiting in the parlor.”

He’d come to pester her about her response, no doubt. She hadn’t been able to sleep last night—thoughts of Arlington had swirled in her head repeatedly. If only she’d been brave enough to snatch that sheet off his hips, what would he have done? Would he have allowed her to see him completely nude? The thought was thrilling and sent a tremor of heat rushing through her body.  What would he look like, she wondered? What would it feel like to skim her fingers along every muscle, every glorious sinew?

It was around three o’clock in the morning before she finally realized just how pathetic she truly was, lusting after a man, a
duke,
who was everything she detested—arrogant, self-serving, and worst of all, a revered member of the
haute ton
.  If she were to write out a list of all the qualities she
didn’t
want in a husband, Arlington would fit the bill perfectly.

So she’d plucked up the duke’s card on her nightstand, scribbled a quick note and left it in the kitchen with instructions for it to be delivered to his residence first thing in the morning. Apparently, he’d received it. 

Pippa groaned and fell back against the pillows. “Tell him I’m not at home.”

“It’s far too late for that, I’m afraid.” Rose pulled out one of Pippa’s finest morning dresses, a yellow muslin with ruffled sleeves and a low neckline that exposed far too much. Even a
chemisette
would have difficulty concealing the top swell of her breasts in that dress.  “Your father asked me to fetch you, posthaste.”

Of course he had.

She had a mind to claim illness, but that would hardly deter Arlington. He’d just return in a day or two. Or sooner, heaven forbid, to inquire after her health. In the end, she decided to take a more direct approach to the problem.

When Rose laid out Pippa’s yellow morning dress, Pippa shook her head, an idea forming. If she wanted to succeed in pushing him away, she needed to appear as unappealing as possible. Gentlemen of distinction wanted elegant, fashionable wives—women they could parade around like fancy baubles on their arms. Hadn’t she been told that in finishing school at least a dozen times each day?    

“No, the blue muslin.”

“The
blue
?” Rose hesitated.

Pippa nodded.

“But it’s…atrocious.”

Pippa smiled. “Precisely.”

It had been a gift from her father eons ago, and so hideous she’d only worn it once, and only to please him. The fabric was a rich, royal blue and she’d considered having it recut into something more fashionable—it would be no trouble at all for a skilled seamstress to accomplish. As it was, the fabric was loose and did nothing to accentuate her feminine form. It was also the most modest of all her gowns, with small, pearl buttons that stretched all the way up to her chin.

“Oh, and will you ask Mrs. Maddox to meet me downstairs?”

Mrs. Maddox was her former governess and one of the very few weapons in Pippa’s arsenal. When she’d discovered Mrs. Maddox was in Town, visiting a cousin, Pippa had taken the opportunity to offer her her old room…and to ask a favor.

Once she was dressed and her hair was piled in a haphazard knot of curls on the top of her head, she was ready to face Arlington. She found him in the parlor, his long legs eating up the space in long strides across the room, then back again.

When she entered, he stopped and turned toward her.

His gaze swept over her gown. “You look…” The words trailed off as he no doubt searched for a description that wouldn’t offend her. “Intriguing.”

“Thank you,” she beamed, twisting to give him the full effect. “It’s my
favorite
morning dress and quite fashionable, if I do say so myself. I had a feeling you would like it.”

Biting her lip, she allowed her gaze to slip over his tall, muscular frame. He wore a blue coat, tan breeches, and a scowl that only made him look more handsome, if that were possible. His hair was mussed, as though he’d run his hand through it several times.

Her father had risen to his feet as soon as she walked into the room. He didn’t look at her—they hadn’t been on speaking terms since Arlington commanded she marry him. She’d felt ambushed and betrayed, and she wasn’t quite ready to say her piece.   

“I have a few business calls to make, so I’ll leave you both to it,” he said, making straight for the door.

Arlington strode toward her. He held up the note she’d scrawled the night before. “What is this?”

It was one simple word she knew would whip him into a passion.

“I believe it says ‘no,’ Your Grace.” She smiled. “Surely you’re familiar with the word.”

He crumpled the card in his hand. Fury burned in his eyes. “It’s not a word I’m accustomed to hearing.”

“If you intend to marry me, then perhaps you should get used to it.”

*   *   *

He was going to strangle her. Or kiss her. Perhaps both.

The woman was a maddening blend of seductive allure and pure, unyielding defiance—both of which he found utterly infuriating and fascinating all at once.

But if there was one word he wouldn’t tolerate, it was
no
. He didn’t accept it from his servants, his business associates, or his acquaintances, and he certainly wouldn’t accept it from the woman who would soon be his wife.

“You will not defy me.”

She stiffened, her blue eyes narrowed. “If it’s obedience you desire, Your Grace, then perhaps you should get a dog.”

“I’m not fond of dogs.” 

She scrunched her nose at him. “Not fond of dogs? But they’re so cute and loyal.”

“They’re filthy and carry disease.”

“Have you ever even had a dog?” she asked.

“We had several when I was a boy,” he said. “They ran through the house as they pleased, gnawing the furniture, making a mess of the rugs, and I’m sure I needn’t mention the balls of hair that tumbled through the house. When the servants all left, there was no one to clean up after them, so my sister and I were forced to take up the unpleasant task.”

He saw the question in her eyes, the desire for him to expand on his statement. Most people would be surprised to learn that his childhood hadn’t been idyllic. His father had been a duke, so how was it possible for his family to have lived in such poverty? The answer was simple pride. His father would not accept charity, under any pretense. He’d
given
charity until it had drained both him and the estate dry, but
accepting
it was never something his father could countenance. After his father’s death, it had fallen to Lucas to rebuild the family fortune—a feat he’d accomplished through hard work and discipline.

Pippa shrugged, clearly eager to change the subject. “Well, this just illustrates how incompatible we are—I love dogs, and in fact, plan to have several when I set up my own household.”

“You plan to keep a houseful of dogs in London?”

“Of course not,” she said, as though his statement were completely ridiculous. “London is far too confining. I’ve always dreamed of a simple country estate with plenty of lawn to keep them happy. I love the outdoors as well, so it would be perfect. I don’t suppose you have any desire to live in the quiet countryside? You must find London very diverting.”

He considered that for a moment. He had to admit to feeling confined in London as well. There was no peace here—there were far too many eyes and far too little space for comfort.

Perhaps he would look into the possibility of a country home. His family seat would fit the bill nicely, but after he’d made all the necessary repairs he’d never returned. The place still held many unpleasant memories and he hadn’t the heart to go back.

“I have responsibilities that call me to London often. It’s more necessity than a choice.”

His gaze swept over her atrocious gown again. It was at least two sizes too large, and her lush, shapely curves were concealed beneath the billowing fabric.  Still, she was magnificent, her cheeks bright, her eyes sparkling and vivid. Wisps of silky red curls escaped her chignon and brushed enticingly against the creamy column of her neck.

He stepped closer and her breath hitched, but she remained in place. Both times he’d kissed her, she’d completely disarmed him. He hadn’t been prepared for that, and he was always prepared. The feeling was unsettling, to say the least.

This time, he was determined to rattle her as well.

Gently, he leaned forward until his lips were a hairsbreadth from touching hers. She didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but the pulse at the base of her throat raced, betraying her anxiety.

With a smile, he brushed his lips across hers, a feather-light touch that pulsed through his veins and heated his blood. She inhaled deeply, and her lips parted, just slightly. He took that as an invitation. Pushing his tongue into her mouth, he took complete control, tasting, teasing, devouring. He gave no quarter.

Christ,
how she inflamed his senses. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to peel the hideous blue gown from her body and trace every dip and valley with his tongue—the swell of her breasts, the flatness of her belly, the flare of her generous hips. He’d explore every part of her, lick and taste every inch of her creamy flesh.

She moaned, a breath of sound that made his cock swell. His hand left the tangle of her hair and trailed down to her beautifully shaped arse. Cupping the rounded cheeks in his palms, he pulled her tight against him, her lush curves crushed to his lower half. She mewed in response.

If he continued with this, he’d soon be past the point of stopping himself. He’d toss up her skirts and take her right here, like a damned animal. 

With great difficulty, he pulled away, setting some distance between them. Turning, he raked hand through his hair.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman.
Any
woman. He squeezed his hands into fists and cursed under his breath. He would control this—this strange torrent of affection. 

When he turned back to Miss Welby, her cheeks were flushed and she was touching her lips. They were red, swollen from his kiss. The pulse at the base of her throat hammered, and she had the distinct look of desire in her eyes.

“Why, whenever I am in your presence, must you kiss me?”

He smiled. “It’s an effective way to silence you.”

And because I can’t keep my goddamned hands off you. 

She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat and turned away. Her arms swept outward, indicating the room—filled to bursting with flowers. “One bouquet would have sufficed, you know.”

Lucas clenched his jaw. The woman was a perplexing anomaly. Any other woman of his acquaintance would have swooned at the sight of so many flowers. He’d had them sent from the best flower shops in London, who’d had to procure them from other counties to fill his extensive order. “When I do something, Miss Welby, I don’t do it by halves.”

It was the truth. Everything he set forth to accomplish, he’d done with full focus and resolve. Nothing,
nothing
got in his way.

To build and secure his empire, he needed to marry Miss Welby. The demand for coal was ever-increasing, and with the creation of the steam locomotive last summer, it would soon be more in demand than ever. He planned to corner that market eventually, and marrying Pippa was the first step. Under no terms would he accept defeat.

That kiss was just the beginning.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that about you.” She blew out a breath. “Where am I supposed to put all these?”

“Come,” he said, ignoring her question. “The carriage is waiting.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Your
decree
said eight o’clock this evening. It’s only ten in the morning. The theater isn’t even open at this hour.”

His gaze raked over her gown again, lingering on her pert breasts, barely visible beneath the miles of blue fabric. He longed to discover if the tips were tight, beaded. He’d suck them into his mouth and nip them with his teeth. “First, we’re going shopping.”

He waited for the word
shopping
to permeate her womanly sensibilities. If there was one way into a woman’s affections, it was shopping. Usually, the word had a most unsettling effect on the opposite sex—rousing them to alarming fits of excitement.

Not in Miss Welby’s case, apparently. Much to his surprise, she didn’t look the least bit tempted by the prospect of emptying his purse.