Page 1 of My Secret Duke
1818, Summer, London
L ady Olivia Ashton slipped through the door at the back of the room, closing it softly behind her. The Elphinstones’ musical evening wasn’t the most exciting engagement she had attended since her coming-out ball in May, but she was wearing one of her new, fashionable dresses with a nice string of pearls about her neck. She looked well, she was admired, and after the long years of living neglected at Grantham, that really should have been enough.
Instead, she was on her way to another clandestine rendezvous with Ivo Fitzsimmons, Duke of Northam.
Olivia had danced with him many times now, and looked forward to dancing many more. She watched out for him, and felt disappointed if he wasn’t present. He was handsome and charming and paid her extravagant compliments, but exciting as her interactions with him were, she had come to realize he was also the very last person she should be setting her cap at.
This was Olivia’s first time in London. Her Season had been delayed, firstly by her father’s death, which left them with crushing debts, and then by the revelation that the true heir to the estate—the new Duke of Grantham—was gambling club owner Gabriel Cadieux, meaning the futures of Olivia and her five sisters were in his hands. Despite their difficult beginning, Olivia had grown to trust and love Gabriel, who was doing his best to bring the Grantham estate back from the brink of financial disaster. But the scandal hadn’t helped Olivia’s acceptance by the ton.
Olivia had never had to worry about the propriety or lack thereof of her behavior, and it was only now, when things were very different, that she realized how sheltered she had been at Grantham. Here in London, she needed to be the perfect debutante if she was to win over polite society, for her own sake and that of her sisters—it felt unfair, but because she was the eldest, her actions would affect their lives as well as her own. Especially the younger sisters, because the Ashton finances could only stretch so far. A good marriage for Olivia was imperative, and the Duke of Northam was not “good marriage” material. For all he was so handsome and charming, he seemed determined to lead her into even more scandal. And Olivia was finding it difficult to resist him.
Northam was not your ordinary brand of nobleman. He was notorious for his irresponsible behavior, and it was said that nothing was beyond him when it came to winning a wager. His financial situation was, if not quite dire, certainly verging into that territory. He was not the sort of gentleman Olivia should be encouraging.
And yet ever since he had danced with her at her coming-out ball, she had not been able to forget him.
She looked up. He was standing at the top of the staircase, leaning his elegant self negligently against the bannister. His corn-colored hair was a little long, and his green eyes sparkled in a mischievous manner.
“There you are,” he said. “I was about to start without you.”
He was teasing her, but she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of winning. Again.
She should never have boasted to him about her proficiency at the game of billiards. The subject had come up shortly after her coming-out ball, and she had said something like “I am accounted as quite the expert among my sisters.” He had responded that he too was an expert. Before she knew it, he had dared her to play him, and was leading her away from the ballroom and into a billiard room, where he had proceeded to trounce her.
The next time they met, he challenged her to another game, and this time, she won. Perhaps his male pride was piqued, because ever since then, he had been inviting her to take part in a third game. To establish the overall winner.
So far, she had resisted, until tonight when she found her resistance considerably weakened. The musical evening was tedious, the company boring, and she had admitted to herself that nothing here was as exciting as the Duke of Northam.
She began to climb the stairs.
“I think you will find that thrashing your sisters at billiards is not the same as playing a master like me,” he said, words designed to incite her into another foolish act.
Olivia glared while at the same time her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “ I think you will find yourself completely outclassed, Your Grace.”
He chuckled as he opened a door to a dark-paneled room, and said, “Why will you not call me Ivo? Surely we are more than mere acquaintances.”
Olivia flicked him a glance as she moved to the green baize table. “Are we?”
The door closed behind her, and her heart gave a little jump, but Ivo was already reaching for one of the cues and handing it to her with his wicked grin. “Of course. We are friends, are we not?”
The thought warmed her inside. She had never had a male friend, apart from her brother, although Ivo’s smile wasn’t what she would call brotherly. He flirted with her, which, unlike billiards, was a game she had little experience in, but despite being out of her depth, she greatly enjoyed their lighthearted banter.
“I hope so,” she said, feeling color warm her cheeks.
He smiled absently, as if he had already forgotten the question, and set about preparing for their game. He tucked his hair back—the wayward curls had fallen into his eyes—and shrugged off his tightly fitting jacket with a purposeful air. “Last time was beginner’s luck,” he said.
Olivia laughed scathingly. “Admit it, Ivo , I am the better player.”
His green eyes narrowed as he put cue to ball. But rather than taking the shot, he suddenly straightened. “If you are so certain of yourself, Olivia, why don’t we make a wager on the outcome?”
“A… a wager?” Did he not know the Ashton girls were paupers? Her grandmother had impressed upon her only this morning that in such circumstances, she must find a wealthy match so that her sisters could partake in her good fortune.
“Why yes!” He stepped closer and smiled down at her. Olivia was not tall, and he topped her by several inches. “What shall it be?” He pretended to think, tapping one elegant finger against his chin. “A kiss!”
Olivia stepped back, eyes wide with shock. “Your Grace, I don’t think—” she began, but at the same time, there was a flutter in her chest. Was he trying to seduce her?
“On the cheek,” he amended. “A peck on the cheek between friends.”
He waited for her response, but she didn’t know what to say. Surely a kiss between friends was acceptable? But Olivia was wise enough to know that this entire situation was un acceptable. She was alone with an unmarried gentleman who was no relative of hers, and now he wanted to kiss her?
“I don’t think…” she tried again.
He sighed. “Olivia, aren’t you confident of winning? I thought you were an expert. You disappoint me.”
He was playing games with her, tempting her to take up his wager, and despite knowing it, Olivia couldn’t help but be stung by his dismissal of her skill. She was good at billiards. She played with her sisters at Grantham and always won. Why shouldn’t she win this time, and show Ivo he had seriously underestimated her? She imagined the expression on his face and was persuaded.
“What do I get when I win?” she demanded.
His smile tipped up at the corners, showing the dimples in his cheeks. “What do you want, Olivia?”
He was brazen, probably because he was so certain he would be the winner in their game. Well, she would show him… Olivia thought a moment while he waited. Despite his careless manner, he seemed to be holding his breath.
She glanced down at the thumb ring he wore. She had noticed it before, a heavy gold band with a dull red stone set in it. “Your ring,” she said.
He gave a crack of surprised laughter and twisted the ring on his thumb. For a moment, it seemed as if he was going to refuse her. What if the ring was valuable, or had sentimental attachment for him? But before she could recant, he shrugged and said, “As you wish. A kiss for me and a ring for you. Shall we begin?”
The game was intense. They played as if their lives depended on the outcome, and Ivo’s muffled curse when he missed a shot was echoed by Olivia’s groan when she missed another. As she bent over the table, deliberating a complicated maneuver, he came and stood beside her. She could feel the warmth of his body, and as he began to roll up the sleeves of his white shirt, her gaze strayed to his bared forearms. How could a man’s arms be so interesting? Lean and muscular, tanned so that the smattering of fair hair was almost invisible.
She was so fixated she did not notice him lean down until his laughing whisper tickled her ear.
“Are you taking your shot, Olivia?”
She jerked her head back to the ball lined up before her cue. “You are trying to distract me,” she said, knowing she was blushing again. “It won’t work.”
He laughed quietly, and she missed the shot.
Then it was his turn.
Olivia studied him as he bent over the table. Hard muscled legs in tight pantaloons, his hip jutting as he leaned in, his broad shoulders shifting as he took aim. A voice in her head told her to leave and return to the music room, but it was as if she was held in place. This was one of the most exciting moments of her life, and she didn’t want it to end. Ivo hadn’t just challenged her to this game, he was challenging her in other ways too. He was flirtatious and playful, and the obvious admiration in his green eyes was very flattering to a girl who had never had a male admirer.
She considered whether she was courageous enough to use the same tactics Ivo had used on her. Because she couldn’t lose. She mustn’t lose. No matter how tempting the thought of his lips on her skin was, she suspected he would not be satisfied with something as tame as a kiss on the cheek. She also suspected she might feel the same.
Olivia leaned over the table beside him, so close she could smell clean, laundered clothing and his vanilla pomade. A curl of her dark hair fell forward and brushed his hand. His cue slid off the ball, sending it awry.
“Are you sure you had the angle right?” she whispered.
He turned his head, and his gaze slid over her face, lingering on her eyes and mouth. His smile seemed to suggest things she knew were inappropriate, and her lips tingled. What would it feel like to have his lips brush against hers, to have his hands cup her face so that he could deepen their kiss?
Her imaginings were vivid, making her quite breathless as she moved away and took up her cue once more. But she was having difficulty concentrating, strongly aware of him as he moved about the table, the warm male scent of him tantalizing whenever he stepped closer. He was dangerous, but despite knowing the consequences, she could not seem to help taking the risk.
They were halfway through the match. She already knew she was going to lose when the door opened without warning. Miss Vivienne Tremeer stood staring at her, and at her shoulder was Gabriel. It didn’t occur to her then to wonder why Gabriel was alone with Vivienne, something that was as socially unacceptable as Olivia being alone with Ivo, because Gabriel’s face turned white with anger, and she forgot everything else.
The next few moments were intense and uncomfortable. Ivo tried to take the blame, but it was no good. No one was listening. Gabriel was gritting his teeth. “Come with me,” he said, holding out his arm. She could hardly refuse, even though she wanted to. She let him lead her away from her stupidity. That was when he told her that Northam was probably engaged to Vivienne’s cousin, Lady Annette, and while she was struggling to grasp that confusing and disappointing information, they reached the room where all the other guests had been listening to the soprano.
Only to find the music had paused. With nothing else to entertain them, the room as one turned and stared. Vivienne’s aunt rose to her feet and positively glared. Olivia wanted to run away—she was no longer feeling brave—but Gabriel led her back to her seat, where she sat with her back stiff and her eyes fixed to the front. When he squeezed her hand, a kind gesture she did not deserve, she had to blink back tears of mortification.
After that, the evening was a blur. Whispers and sneers as supper was served at the end of the performance. Contemptuous glances as guests congregated in groups, even though Ivo and Olivia were now at opposite ends of the room. The Viscountess Monteith, Vivienne’s aunt, was busy telling all who would listen that Northam and Olivia had broken her daughter’s heart… at least that was what Olivia imagined she was saying. Someone tittered as Olivia walked by, and when she turned her head, startled, the person showed her their back.
Again, Ivo came to apologize. His fair hair looked as if he’d been running his hands through it, and his face was pale and set.
“My apologies,” he said in a voice loud enough to be heard by those who were listening. “Completely my fault, Lady Olivia.” Then, lowering his voice for her alone, “I promise I will fix this.”
She did not answer him. The evening had turned into a disaster, and it felt as if her faux pas had locked her out of the society she had so longed to enter.
Olivia barely noticed saying goodbye to the Elphinstones, or Gabriel handing her into the coach for the journey home. It wasn’t until he spoke that some of her shock wore off.
“Olivia,” he sighed. “You have worked so hard. You are beginning to find your place in society. It may not be what you wanted, God knows it isn’t what I want, but I thought you were coming to terms with it. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, or was I wrong?”
“No, you weren’t wrong,” she admitted, her eyes filling with tears. “I was enjoying myself. It was so pleasant to be sought after and to dress in pretty things, and I was liking it very much. And now I’ve ruined it.” Her lip wobbled.
Her brother seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Although his expression was stern, there was kindness in his dark eyes. “We are still learning to live within the rules,” he said. “Sometimes we can stretch them a little, or even bend them on occasion, but we must never break them.”
It was his kindness that threatened to undo her. Her throat almost closed over her anxious reply. “Do you think I have? Broken them?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “You certainly caused a stir. Northam said he would fix things, but how reliable is he, and how can he mend matters? Perhaps people will make allowances for your inexperience.”
She expected he actually meant for her headstrong nature and foolish behavior. “I am very sorry. I forgot for a moment where I was and what was at stake. I am trying very hard to be a duke’s sister.”
“Your life has been turned upside down,” Gabriel agreed.
“So has yours. And don’t tell me you don’t resent it, for I won’t believe you,” she said when he went to dismiss her words.
“Of course I resent it.”
She held her breath. Gabriel had been a gambling club owner, without any encumbrances, and now he was a duke with six unmarried sisters. Could he turn his back on them all and walk away? After tonight, she wouldn’t blame him if he did.
His next words soothed that worry.
“I wish it were different, but I understand why I have to change. It’s for the sake of you and your sisters. If I had refused to take on the dukedom, then you would have been cast into penury, forced to live with relatives and strangers who had no care for you. How would you have felt about that? The estate was bankrupt, and although I have managed to claw it back to respectable limits, it will take time for us to be truly safe.”
Olivia felt the old fears twist in her stomach—memories of her life before Gabriel came to save them. “Do you mean we could still be cast into pen-penury?” she asked and strained to hear the answer to her question over the beating of her heart.
“There is a possibility. However, I will do my utmost not to let that happen. I may be a bad duke,” Gabriel said, “but I am an excellent businessman.”
Olivia found a shaky laugh. “You’re not a bad duke. It was I who messed up. Grandmama will be livid, she is always going on about what is at stake, but I didn’t realize how bad things could get until now. It’s horrible to be treated like that. Especially when I was enjoying myself so much. I don’t like it, Gabriel, I really don’t.”
She had been enjoying her new life, and this had been a painful lesson in what she could and could not do if she wanted to keep her reputation and her place in society. Returning to Grantham, to the past, was not an option, and certainly not one she wanted to contemplate.
She finally understood the command she held over her own destiny. Ivo was not the right gentleman for her. Attractive and charismatic he might be, but he was completely wrong when it came to her future. If she was to have any chance of making a good match, if she was to find a wealthy and respectable husband, if she was not to end up where she started, then she must distance herself from him.
She must.