Page 8 of His Runaway Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #3)

CHAPTER 8

D aphne had never thought that kissing was particularly interesting. She’d caught glimpses of her older sister, Anna, kissing her husband, and the whole business did not seem appealing. They had appeared to enjoy it enough, but Daphne had been baffled as to why.

After that, she’d simply filed the memory away to be ignored and made sure she knocked and waited before walking into rooms in her sister’s house.

Being kissed, however, was entirely different.

His lips did taste of whiskey. He was warm and firm, but not hard , not like a plank of wood. His arm around her waist was tight, and his fingers curled around her neck, leaving red-hot pathways of sensation in their wake. That tug returned to her gut, and this time Daphne could not fool herself that it was anything other than arousal.

She wanted this. She wanted him . She wanted him to keep kissing her, his lips soft against hers, the blunt press of his teeth on her lower lip barely noticeable. He tightened his arm around her waist, his fingers cupping the back of her neck. What would those large, strong hands feel like elsewhere on her body? The front of her bodice, even?

Reaching out uncertainly, Daphne moved to touch his broad shoulders, intending to pull him closer, to let him know that?—

Abruptly, she was shoved away.

Staggering backward, Daphne regained her balance. Her face was flushed—she just knew it—and she could feel an errant tendril of hair tickling her neck. She glanced up at him, breathing hard as if she’d just run a mile.

“What…?” she managed before the Duke spoke up.

“I am sorry,” he said, his face rigid and blank. “I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t have done it. I beg your pardon.”

She cleared her throat, wishing the color would leave her cheeks. Her head felt as if it were going to explode. “I’m not offended. But Your Grace?—”

“I meant what I said,” he interrupted. His arms hung heavy at his sides, and she noticed that his fingers were curled into fists.

“I… what?” she managed.

He sighed, turning away. “I didn’t want a wife. I don’t want companionship or anything more physical . I don’t need more children. I can barely manage the one I’ve got. No children, no sharing of lives. Just a plain marriage, in name only, to save both of our reputations and Alex’s. I should not have done that, Miss Belmont, and I hope you’ll forgive me. It won’t happen again.”

She flinched a little at that.

He’d put emphasis on the word, for clarity. In case she got ideas.

Well, I don’t want it to happen again, either, she felt like shouting, although that might be a case of the lady protesting too much.

Instead, she took a leaf out of Emily’s book. Despite a few recent faux pas , Emily tended to behave very well and made excellent choices.

Daphne folded her arms over her chest and smiled as gracefully as she could. “I accept your apology. And I accept your offer of marriage, Your Grace. You are right—I really don’t have any other choice.”

He breathed out slowly, his broad shoulders sagging. “Right. Well. In that case, I—” He broke off at the sound of running footsteps, his heavy eyebrows lowering into a frown.

There was an impatient tap on the door. Not waiting for a response, the door opened, and a red-faced and breathless Peter Tinn stumbled inside.

“We have unexpected guests, Your Grace,” he gasped. “It’s… It’s Miss Belmont’s family. They’re here. And they’re furious .”

‘Unexpected guests’ was not an accurate description. Daphne did not find herself surprised. Of course, her family would come the instant they read that scandal sheet with everybody else.

The Duke had told her roughly that he would leave her to go ahead and manage her family, and he would join them soon to iron out any details. And that was that—she was engaged and dismissed in the course of a couple of sentences.

It’s the stuff romances are made of.

Daphne could hear raised voices from an open door down the hallway—one of the parlors, she thought—and quickened her pace.

It was her mother’s voice, of course.

“… and I insist on seeing my daughter at once ,” Octavia was saying, her voice raised to a shout. “You cannot keep her from me. We have the Duke and Duchess of Langdon here, so don’t start thinking she’s some friendless pauper. This is an outrage.”

Daphne heard the steward’s voice quavering back, trying and failing to calm down the livid woman.

Looks like I came in the nick of time, she snorted inwardly as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

All conversation ceased, and five heads swiveled towards her. Theodore, Anna, Octavia, and, of course, Emily. And, naturally, the beleaguered Peter Tinn.

“You’re safe,” Emily said, speaking first. Her voice wobbled, and her eyes were red-rimmed.

She was wearing an old pair of spectacles with a crack on one of the lenses, and Daphne guiltily remembered tearing her sister’s other spectacles off her face as she rode, losing them in the undergrowth.

“I’m safe,” she echoed.

“There you are, you see,” the steward said, sounding thoroughly annoyed. “As I told you, ladies and gentlemen. Well, gentle man . Miss Belmont is entirely safe and happy. No harm has been done to her. I shall leave you to speak. Tea will come soon, and the Duke of Thornbridge will join you shortly.”

Octavia whirled around. “I hope he does join us because I am going to rip his head off his shoulders. How dare he compromise my daughter in such a way?”

“I’m not sure that would do anyone any good, Mama,” Anna remarked wryly. “Daphne was already compromised—they both are, in fact—and no doubt the poor Duke was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You should listen to her, my dear mother-in-law,” Theodore drawled. He’d sprawled over a chaise longue nearby, one arm thrown dramatically over his face. “And you can’t kill the man—the only way Daphne can ever be seen in polite society again is if she marries the fellow.”

There was an awkward silence after that.

Peter Tinn cleared his throat. “Do excuse me. I’ll fetch my master and be back soon.”

Then, he scuttled out of the room as if he couldn’t get out quickly enough. No sooner had the door slammed shut than Emily was on her sister, her arms wrapped tightly around her as if she feared she might melt away.

“I thought you’d died in the forest,” Emily whispered, her voice tight. “I thought you’d fallen and broken your neck, or been kidnapped, or ran into bandits. Oh, I imagined the worst.”

“No bandits or kidnappers,” Daphne replied, hugging her sister back. “I ran into the Duke of Thornbridge instead.”

Octavia cleared her throat, laying a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Things could have been worse, Daphne. They could have been much better, too. I’m just glad you are unharmed. Now, we need to do damage control. You’ve destroyed your reputation, and Emily, too, will suffer.”

“What about the Duke of Clapton?” Daphne asked.

Quick, meaningful glances were exchanged between the family.

“Never mind that now,” Octavia said stoutly. “We’re all safe, my dear.”

“Well, now that we’re here, we can go home,” Daphne sniffed. “I’m quite tired of this place.”

There was another silence, longer and heavier this time.

“Daphne,” Anna said carefully, stepping forward, “I’m not sure you understand the problem here.”

“Nothing has happened,” Daphne hastily assured her sister. “He let me stay the night because I was covered in mud, and his stepmother stayed here, too. It’s just gossip.”

Theodore spoke up, not moving from his position. “I’m afraid it’s a little worse than that, my dear. In the eyes of Society, you jilted a man at the altar and ran straight to another man. That’s essentially an elopement. Worse than an elopement, since you went directly to his house, unchaperoned, and stayed the night.”

Daphne swallowed hard. “What are you saying, Theo?”

Theodore removed his arm from where it was slung over his eyes and looked at her. “You’re a clever girl, Daphne. I won’t act as though you haven’t considered this. You know that you can never return home, never return to Society, unless you marry the Duke of Thornbridge. You have to marry him here before you can ever think of going back to London.”

Daphne blinked, sinking into a chair. She was glad there was one behind her because she might have just sunk onto the ground otherwise.

“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “There really isn’t any hope, then. I do have to marry him.”

Theo pulled himself into a sitting position and nodded sadly.

Anna reached out, laying a hand on his shoulder, and he placed his hand over hers.

Daphne found herself grappling with an unfamiliar sensation of jealousy. She knew her sister was in love with her husband and vice versa. They were happy , even if they hadn’t begun that way.

I’ll never fall in love. Not that I thought I would, but there’s a difference between something never happening because you don’t want it to and never happening because it can’t happen.

She swallowed hard, fighting to compose herself.

“There are worse men to marry, I suppose,” she said, with false brightness. “I can’t think of any at the moment, but?—”

“Oh, Daff, this is all my fault,” Emily burst out, covering her face with her hands. “How could I have been so foolish? If I’d done my duty and just married the wretched Duke of Clapton when I was meant to, you’d be safe and happy. This is all my fault. And now, you have to marry the Cursed Duke.”

Daphne took her sister’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s not your fault, Emily. Really, it’s not. As to the Duke, I just… Wait. You said he was cursed?”

There were more meaningful glances exchanged, but nobody hurried to answer her question.

She glanced around and spoke again. “The article in the scandal sheet called him cursed, too. What curse? What’s going on?”

Octavia sighed heavily and opened her mouth to speak. But she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hallway.

The door opened without ado, and a pair of servants bearing tea trays strode in. They were followed by the Duke of Thornbridge.

Daphne could see at once that he’d tidied himself up, brushing his hair, straightening his collar, and throwing on a better jacket. A cravat pin glimmered at his throat now, the cravat folds done in a simple yet gentlemanly style.

In short, he looked every inch the Duke. He didn’t even appear to be put off by the glares he received.

“Lady St. Maur,” he said, bowing to Octavia. “Duke, Duchess. Miss Emily Belmont. It’s a pleasure to have you here. I’m only sorry we aren’t meeting under better circumstances.”

“So am I,” Octavia managed, at last. “As you can see, my daughter is the Duchess of Langdon, and my son-in-law is the Duke of Langdon. Daphne is not alone, or friendless, or penniless. If you think you can take advantage?—”

He held up a hand, and to Daphne’s amazement, her mother fell silent.

I really must learn that trick.

“I’m not sure what Miss Belmont has told you,” he said, holding Octavia’s gaze steadily, “but I believe she’s informed you of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding this incident. We were both put in an impossible situation—she needed shelter, and I was obliged to offer it—but nothing would have come of it without that article. There’s no sense in wishing things were otherwise.”

“Agreed,” Anna said, taking a step forward. Her eyes were narrowed, and she took in every detail. The Duke didn’t seem put off by her stare and returned it blatantly. “I’m sure you must realize that there is only one solution. You and Daphne must wed.”

He inclined his head. “You are correct.”

“The scandal sheet claimed that a source close to you revealed the story,” Emily suddenly spoke up. She was standing close to her twin as if for comfort, and her hand clutched Daphne’s tightly. She was nervous, clearly. “Who could it be?”

The Duke pursed his lips. “I can’t think. My household is extremely loyal, and I know they care about my son. I can’t imagine that any of them would betray me. Either way, it will be my responsibility to work out, I think.”

Emily inclined her head. “Of course, Your Grace.”

“So, about this marriage,” Octavia spoke up, her eyes narrowed. “You will marry my daughter?”

“Of course, Lady St. Maur. As I said before, my reputation is destroyed, too. Can you imagine what the scandal sheets would say about me if I were perceived to have ruined a lady and then refused to marry her?” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “They already call me beastly . You’d be surprised, Miss Belmont, to see how quickly they begin calling you an innocent girl ruined by a villain. Not that your reputation would ever be restored, of course.”

“I’m familiar with the contradictions of Society,” Daphne heard herself say. “I’ve already agreed to marry you, so I suppose we should get it over with.”

The Duke’s eyebrow rose at that, but he gave no sign of being amused or offended by what she’d said. He was showing admirable composure, and Daphne couldn’t help but feel baffled.

Where had this cool, lofty composure been earlier when he was speaking to her? Why was he only playing the gentleman now?

“I’ll apply for a special license to allow us to marry quickly,” the Duke said, turning to face the family again. It was as if he’d forgotten about Daphne already. “We should do things properly, to avoid further scandal and more gossip. The special license will take time, but it will doubtless not be denied. I will host the wedding here. Miss Belmont will, of course, have to stay—she can hardly go back to London now—but you may all stay with her if you wish.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Octavia managed. “I would prefer to stay with my daughter.”

He inclined his head. “You can all stay. Rooms are being prepared as we speak. I can’t imagine you brought your things, so my footmen will be sent back to your homes to collect them. My stepmother will stay here, too. Things must proceed with absolute propriety from now on. I’m sure you all understand.”

“It’s rather too late for that, don’t you think?” Theo remarked, earning himself a chilly glare from the Duke.

“Nothing has happened between us,” the Duke answered crisply. “Miss Belmont will confirm that, I’m sure. This unfortunate circumstance is simply bad luck.”

Theo tilted his head, pursing his lips. “Bad luck, you say? Bad luck for whom? For Daphne or yourself?”

The Duke’s glare intensified. “For both of us.”

Theo shrugged, rolling onto his back again, making himself comfortable on the chaise longue . “If you say so. You’re getting a rather lovely wife out of all this, though, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t want a wife,” the Duke snapped back.

The two Dukes aren’t going to be best friends, then.

Daphne smothered a laugh. It was a little hysterical, and she was forced to press her hand to her mouth to contain herself.

The Duke shot her a quick, questioning glance but said nothing. He turned back to Octavia instead.

“You can take this room as a family parlor. I’m not a particularly good host, and I haven’t had guests in a long time. Make yourselves at home. I imagine you’ll meet my son sooner or later. I’ll speak to you more about the wedding plans once the application for the special license is sent off.”

Octavia nodded slowly. “I know how to organize a wedding.”

“I don’t intend to have much of one. I hope you understand, but this is not a happy occasion for me. A quick ceremony is all I require.”

Daphne glanced up at her mother, who seemed displeased.

At last, Octavia sighed and nodded. “Very well then.”

“Good.” The Duke gave a brisk nod and turned towards the door. “I’ll leave you all to catch up and settle in. Let’s just concentrate on not allowing anything to go wrong, shall we? Dinner is served at seven o’clock. Sharp.”