Page 1 of Promised to the Worst Duke in England (Disreputable Dukes of Club Damnation #2)

June 20, 1815

Denham House

St. James Place

Mayfair, England

Wallace Denham, 5 th Duke of St. Eggleton sat reading a copy of his favorite newspaper after dinner that night in his drawing room with Abigail as his only companion. As evenings went, it was quite pleasing, and he’d never been happier with his existence.

To be fair, he should have spent the evening at the club he’d founded years ago, Club Damnation, but there were times when a man grew weary of that, and he simply wanted the comfort of home and soft arms to support him when desire came over him.

Then he snorted. “Damnation.”

His wife lifted her head in alarm. She glanced up from her embroidery with wide eyes, questions in those depths, lit by the candlelight. “What is it?” That same illumination made the silver strands in her brown hair glimmer.

“I can’t believe it.” The longer he stared at the brief blurb in one of the columns on the sheet, the more he felt stunned. “I thought seeing Ravenhurst wed due to love had been the excitement of the summer, but this is something else.”

“Good heavens, Eggleton, what? Tell me.” In some agitation, Abigail relocated to the sofa beside him, leaving her embroidery work behind. She laid a hand on his arm. “What has you so awed?”

“Look.” He pointed to the spot on the newspaper sheet. “Averly is finally marrying.”

“What?” Shock threaded through her voice. “To the woman to whom he’s been engaged since childhood?”

“Yes, the very same.” Surprise rolled through his chest as he showed his wife the blurb regarding the upcoming nuptials. “Why did he decide to go through with it now?”

“Who can say? Familial pressure?” He shrugged.

“If one listens to ton gossip, he probably isn’t best pleased about those plans, for he is quite the wicked duke.” When she shrugged, her shoulder brushed his, and sent heated tingles of need through his shaft. “It is too bad, for he is an attractive man.” The grin she gave him was far too appreciative. “It must be his red hair. I wonder if he has freckles…”

A stab of jealousy went through Wallace’s chest. “Well, he is younger than me by perhaps five or six years, but the man will turn forty by year’s end.” A sigh escaped him. “He won’t be pleased by these developments. However, I shall pop over to the club tomorrow and try to find out the full story.”

“It seems that Ravenhurt’s romance has shaken things up at the club. I feel nothing will ever be the same with the disreputable dukes after this.”

He chuckled. “That is a true statement.” There were so many things that didn’t make sense. “Why did he wait until now to wed her? And his father is dead, why didn’t he buy his way out of the contract with her family?”

“Who can say?” Abigail scanned the blurb in the paper again. “Has he ever met her?”

“I’m not certain. They have no doubt seen each other socially but perhaps not personally. Do you know anything about his intended?”

“Actually, no. Well, nothing outside of gossip.” Slowly, Abigail shook her head. “Isn’t she the daughter of a viscount who doesn’t have the best morals? I suppose that is how she became engaged to Averly.”

Wallace blew out a breath as he folded the newspaper. “It happens more often than not in our world. You know this, though Averly’s motives and morals are distinctly… skewed.”

Aren’t we all? He still had a few secrets he’d never told his wife.

“Yes, but how often do those unions ever turn into love?”

“Rarely, but recently, Ravenhurst, which still shocks me.” He chuckled and took one of her hands. “And ours did.” When he grinned, she did too, for he was proud of what they had together.

“But you and I are different, don’t you think? We worked on our differences until we’d either compromised on them or destroyed them.” A giggle escaped her; the sound further lit tiny fires in his blood. “Since there are no secrets between us, I expect us to enjoy the remainder of our life together in the bliss we’ve enjoyed thus far.”

Damnation.

Unless the secrets she didn’t know about buried him. Over the years, he’d worked diligently to keep them hidden, even if forces beyond his control were pushing back.

“We have put in the work, this is true, and there is no one else in the world for me except you, sweeting.” Slowly, while watching her the whole time, Wallace brought her hand to his lips, and kissed the back. “In many ways, I am glad you and I are not young in our relationship. I don’t think I have the patience to indulge in waiting for things to mature.”

She brushed a shock of hair from his forehead. The fluttering glide of her fingertips had the power to see him undone. “When are their nuptials scheduled?”

“The paper said in four days, which means their wedding night will be midsummer night.” He snickered, for if any night during the calendar was full of mischief, it was that one. “Quite interesting, no?”

Abigail shrugged. Then she began to untie the knot of his cravat. “Stranger things have happened. Do you think he’ll leave her immediately after speaking vows? Or send her away?”

“It’s highly possible. The last I heard, he has a mistress that he doesn’t wish to give up.” He tucked an escaped lock of hair behind her ear. “Neither would I, for if the rumors are correct, she is quite skilled. And she doesn’t mind his kinks and need for certain… enhancements in the bedroom.” Since he hadn’t talked privately to Averly recently, he didn’t know what the man was into when it came to carnal pursuits.

“Don’t be a prude, Eggleton. Intercourse is only one reason a man keeps a mistress.” When she unraveled the fabric’s knot, she then tugged the length of silk from his neck and pressed her lips to the skin she’d just uncovered.

Need twisted down his spine to pool into his groin. “Mmm, well thankfully you and I don’t need to worry about any of that.” He tossed his paper on a nearby rose-inlaid table, scrambled to his feet, and then pulled her into a standing position. “Shall we retire early, my dear? I suddenly have the urge to render you completely nude and drive wildly into you until you call mercy.” It was always like that between them, and he hoped it always would be.

“Oh.” Abigail curled the fingers of one hand into his lapel. “Not unless I have you nude first.” Her blue eyes darkened to nearly sapphire, a good indication she had very wicked things in mind for him. “There are certain scenarios I would like to indulge in that we don’t usually do.” As she spoke, she eased a hand between them to cup his equipage through the fabric of his satin evening breeches. Immediately, pleasurable sensation slammed through his body. When he hissed a warning, she merely chuckled. “Perhaps I want you at my mercy tonight.”

“I rather like the sound of that.” Hot desire shot through his shaft. He hadn’t been married for twenty years for nothing, and just when he thought he knew everything about his wife, he found out he was wrong. It was most satisfying. “Then by all means, let us not delay.”

“I thought you might agree.” Taking his hand, Abigail led him from the room.

Wallace grinned. For the time being, Averly could take care of himself. Why should he care when he was moments away from fucking his own wife, a woman whom he loved, while Averly had been avoiding his responsibilities this whole time?

Good luck to you, my friend.