Page 11 of Promised to the Worst Duke in England (Disreputable Dukes of Club Damnation #2)

June 28, 1815

Averly Hall

Kent, England

A soft clearing of a masculine throat behind him had Alan turning about just outside the music room that Imogen had claimed for her painting studio.

At his urging. He couldn’t remember which conversation she’d told him that she liked to paint, but he somehow remembered and then last evening invited her to make full use of the music room, which had sat empty for more years than he cared to count. Though his staff had kept the space free of dust and cobwebs, there were still sheets over much of the furniture.

“What is it, Landers?” he asked in a low voice so he wouldn’t break Imogen’s concentration.

“My apologies for disturbing you, Your Grace, but the Duke of Udolpho is here to see you.” From the look on his butler’s face, it was clear Landers doubted the legitimacy of the caller’s title.

Surprise smacked into Alan’s chest. “Why the devil is he here now?” He kept his gaze on his wife inside the room.

Imogen sat at a scarred and stained worktable near one of the windows, and quite out of character for England, the sun was shining as she guided a paintbrush across a mostly empty canvas. Since her back was to him, she didn’t see him spying on her.

“I couldn’t say, Your Grace, but I’ve shown him into the gold parlor. Should I tell him you’ll be down directly?”

Damn and blast.

“Yes, I suppose you should. He won’t go away otherwise.”

Landers cleared his throat. “There is also the Duke of Blackhawke with him.”

Well, fuck.

That didn’t bode well. Blackhawke was a bit of a mystery, even to his fellow club members. Hell, Alan himself had only met him a few times. He had no idea if James Shaw, the current Duke of Blackhawke merely kept to his townhouse or if he gadded about Town. There were rumors that the man only went about after dark because he despised his fellow man.

And women. In fact, there were no pieces of gossip or on-dits about him taking lovers or having mistresses. If he did, he was far too discreet, yet on the other hand, there were enough whispers surrounding his name that spoke to dark secrets and a beastly temper. Perhaps it was due to the wounds he’d garnered in the war that had ultimately ended his military career, but no one was ever able to get close enough to him to confirm.

After a hard swallow, Alan nodded. “Tell them I’ll be down as soon as I can, and for God’s sake, offer them tea.” A shiver went down his spine for the simple fact that Blackhawke was in his house.

Why?

“Very good, Your Grace.” Once the butler departed, Alan risked another peek inside the room.

Sunlight caused her blonde hair to gleam like molten gold, and as she worked, suddenly the blank canvas came to life with strokes of her brush decorating it with shades of blue and green. What the final picture would be, he had no idea, but he looked forward to seeing her vision, if she would let him.

Yet he had to go down and entertain the damned club members. I’ll wager Eggleton sent them out here to spy on me. With annoyance rising in his chest—for what would he tell them—Alan left the music room, which was on the short side of the manor that had been added when he was a boy, then when he finally arrived in the gold parlor, his anger was ready to flare.

“It’s about damned time you attended to us,” Udolpho said before Alan could say one word. His closely cropped beard and mustache made him look quite distinguished. Part of Alan gave him respect for defying societal convention when it came to going about England without being freshly shaved. “We’ve been waiting for what seems like an eternity.”

“Do shut up. I didn’t even want to see you, so state your business then get out.” At the last second, he slid his gaze to the other man, and a chill twisted down his spine. “I’m surprised to see you here, Blackhawke.”

The duke grunted. Unlike his companion who held an honorary ducal title, Blackhawke’s was genuine. He was of average height with blonde hair arranged in a popular though windblown style with piercing blue eyes. However, his Adonis looks were immediately forgotten when one saw the twisted and scarred skin on the left side of his face as well as the leg on that same side that didn’t quite work correctly, which is why he walked with a cane, and even still he had difficulties.

“Eggleton said I need to stop brooding at the same four walls of my bedchamber and stop trailing around my townhouse like one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse.” A tiny lift on the right side of his lips indicated he might find that amusing, but Alan wasn’t quite certain. “I rather think being likened to the hunchback of Notre Dame is more fitting for my appearance, but it seems we have different tastes.”

Despite his annoyance, Alan snickered as he sat on a chair near the other men’s locations. “You are not hideous, Blackhawke.” Though he could understand why the man might think so.

“Ha.” The blond man grunted. “Tell that to my wife. She left me not long after I came home from the war looking like a monster.”

How interesting, and that was something Alan hadn’t known about him before. “I’m sorry to hear that, but it is her loss.” Not that he knew the full truth behind Blackhawke’s marital issues. “But why are you and Udolpho here? To all intents and purposes, I should be enjoying a honeymoon period of sorts.”

“Are you?” One of Udolpho’s black eyebrows rose in question.

Heat crept up the back of Alan’s neck. “That largely depends on the day.” If his friends had asked him that before yesterday, he would have said adamantly that he and his wife weren’t rubbing along well at all. However, since the coupling in the meadow yesterday, something had changed between them. There had been a connection there during that joining, as if an invisible thread pulled them closer together somehow, and they’d come together in understanding and perhaps empathy.

After that, he’d given her full use of the music room, and now here they were, standing metaphorically on a different threshold. Oddly, he couldn’t wait to discover what would happen next, but that brought its own set of annoyances, for what if she didn’t care for the man he truly was once he revealed those truths?

Udolpho huffed. He leaned back on the sofa and rested an ankle on a knee. “Frankly, Averly, we’re here to make certain you haven’t killed your wife.”

“Why the hell would you think that?”

“Don’t be an arse. Everyone in London knows you didn’t want to marry her, and neither did she want to marry you.”

“I won’t deny it.”

Blackhawke snorted. “Yet you didn’t challenge it.” The duke narrowed his eyes. “Have the two of you reached a truce?”

“Perhaps.” Alan shrugged. “The past week has been… interesting.” Yes, he was curious about her, wanted to know more about her than she’d given, which is what prompted him asking for her secret yesterday. No woman had ever stood up to him before when he was in a temper, and he rather liked it. But unless they could both trust and share with each other, nothing would be possible for a future.

Any future that might have them together.

“Interesting is quite a vague term, Averly,” Udolpho said as he glanced about the room. “Would you mind if I poured a brandy?”

Alan waved him off. “Go ahead.”

When Blackhawke asked for one as well, Udolpho went over to the sideboard. “What of you, Averly? Wish to drink us both under the table?”

Damn, but the temptation made his mouth water. He had to be strong. “Not right now. Thank you.” When both men stared at him, he sighed. “I promised Imogen that I would cut down on imbibing.”

At that point, Udolpho laughed, and he didn’t stop even as he poured out two glasses. “If you are following orders from your wife to change your life, then you are well on your way to being far gone over her.”

His chest tightened. “I doubt that.” Was it true, though? What sort of man would willingly give up his vices, the things he’d hidden behind for so long, merely because a woman asked? “However, I have come to the realization that she and I can’t spend the remainder of our lives arguing, nor can my bad habits run unchecked.”

When Udolpho returned, he gave Blackhawke a glass then he rested his gaze on Alan. “Why devil would you agree to any of that?”

Why indeed? Needing a distraction, he left the chair in order to stand at one of the windows. “Compromise is easier than self-destruction, I suppose.” How much should he share with his friends, if anything? Finally, with a shake of his head, he turned about to face them once more. “Only yesterday, my wife and I reached an understanding of sorts. Where that will lead, I have no idea, but I am… hopeful.”

How long had it been since he’d had hope?

For long moments, silence brewed among all of them. Then Blackhawke shrugged. He took a large sip of his brandy. “Do you think you will ever be able to love her? I know your union was forced and arranged by your fathers, and I also suspect you had your heart broken in the past, but don’t you think the duchess deserves at least affection from you? Don’t you believe you should have that as well?”

As always, when someone pried too close, anger flared as a defense, but this time, he tried to tamp it. “Do you believe you deserve the same?” he asked in a low voice.

Blackhawke huffed. “Touché.”

Alan nodded. “She might deserve it, but how can I after what happened the last time? I’m not sure I have enough courage to offer my heart to another woman after that disaster, after losing my sister at the same time.”

They were both dead because of him.

Udolpho perched on the bolstered end of a sofa. “Have you told your wife any of your past or of the demons you fight ?”

“No.” How much did he want a drink right now? But he stood his ground.

“Fair enough. Has she told you her secrets?”

“Also no.” Yet there was no annoyance in his voice. “It will come, in time. Even from me. We are both survivors of gossip as well as having less than ideal upbringings.

The honorary duke snickered. “Ah, then sounds like you truly are well matched.”

“Indeed,” Blackhawke said with another rare half-grin. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell the both of us off because you’re too busy fucking your wife to receive visitors.”

What he wouldn’t give to take Imogen to bed again… or at the very least tease her until she shattered. This time, for her pleasure instead of his. What the hell is happening to me?

“Do shut up, Blackhawke. My private life is just that.”

It was Udolpho who hooted with laughter. “Since when? That midsummer ball you throw is certainly a tribute to that. I, for one, am looking forward to it, especially since it’s back in the country instead of in London.”

Another wave of heat went up the back of his neck. “I’ve handed over the planning of that to the duchess, and she has demanded the event be without a whisper of scandal. It was one of her asks if our marriage was to have half a chance.”

Both dukes gawked at him.

Alan nodded. “It’s true, so if you attend, you will need to be on your best behavior.” And what was more, he didn’t mind.

Much, but he still intended to find scandal with her that night.

Blackhawke frowned. “Have you shown her your true self and your needs that some might find depraved?” His right eyebrow rose.

“Not yet, but soon. I didn’t wish to shove too much at her so quickly.”

“But I’m sure you’ve shoved yourself into her enough times already that she knows,” Udolpho said with a cheeky wink.

“Enough!” That time, he couldn’t quite pull the anger back. “What she and I do is no one’s business. Do you understand?”

The men exchanged smirks then Blackhawke said, “Refuse to fall for a woman again, eh?”

“Fuck off, Blackhawke,” Alan said, but there was a fondness there instead of annoyance, for he couldn’t explain what was happening either.

“Well, I wish you luck, whichever path you decide to trod.” Udolpho raised his glass as amusement danced in his eyes. So did Blackhawke. “Cheers to your nuptials, though.”

Alan inclined his chin. “I appreciate that.”

“So, when can we meet her? Seeing her at your wedding breakfast doesn’t count.”

A wave of protection—or rather possession—smacked into his chest. “The ball will suffice, now, get the hell out. Both of you. And tell Eggleton to stop sending spies. I’ll either survive this first year or I won’t. That’s all.”

But would both he and Imogen come out of it without being hurt?

A couple of hours after dinner, Alan sought out his wife, for since he’d had guests for most of the afternoon, he hadn’t been able to spend time with her. Also, he was feeling quite wicked and confident, which meant it was time to introduce her to the part of his carnal existence where he needed full and complete control in order to stay sane in a world that was constantly changing, and sometimes not for the better.

Finally tracking her to the private family parlor on the second floor in the newer wing, he came into the room. “Am I interrupting?”

She lifted her head to peer at him from the book she’d been reading. “Not at all. In fact, I was going to come searching for you soon.”

“Ah.” The dulcet sound of her voice drew him forward, and he raked his gaze over her form. Seeing her clad in a thin night dress and robe set of ivory lawn trimmed with matching lace had his pulse accelerating and tiny fires lighting in his blood. “You have already changed for the evening.”

She nodded. “It’s more comfortable, and since my maid had my warm milk sent here, I have no need to be anywhere else. I dismissed her early.” Then a slow smile parted her lips as he came around the sofa where she’d settled. “It seems you’ve made inroads into being undressed as well.”

“A bit.” He’d shed his waistcoat and tailcoat directly following dinner, as well as left his shoes in his suite. “But there are things I would do with you tonight, which is why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Curiosity filled her eyes.

“Yes.” Then he joined her on the sofa, but he slipped behind her, resting his back against the bolstered end of the furniture. Seconds later, he maneuvered Imogen so that she settled between his splayed thighs. Immediately, her floral scent wafted to his nose, and her unbound hair slid over his chest in a tempting blonde wave. There was something… lovely about having her in his arms thusly.

“Did you, ah, have brandy following dinner?” There was no censure in her voice, merely an inquiry.

“I had two glasses instead of a bottle or two.” He couldn’t give it up completely. “But I didn’t partake when I entertained the dukes earlier.” Quickly, he informed her of his visitors. “Since you were enjoying the music room, I didn’t wish to disturb you,” he said in a low voice while brushing his lips along the side of her neck.

“I wouldn’t have minded.” She turned her head in the attempt to look at him. A small frown had taken possession of her mouth. “Do you not want to introduce me as your duchess?”

“Not while they were acting like arseholes.”

“Oh.”

As she settled against him once more, Alan caressed his fingers up and down her left arm. Her skin was as soft as silk, and her lilies of the valley perfume put him in mind of walking through his grandmother’s flower gardens. Needing greater contact, he shifted, raising her arm so that he could draw the fingers of his other hand along the inside of that limb. “How do you feel today after our coming together from yesterday?”

“Decently well. You have suffered no ill effects?” Her eyes had fluttered closed as he transferred his attentions to her other arm.

“I have not, and during my ride this morning, I was not assaulted.”

“That is good news, for I did worry.” A hint of a blush stained her cheeks, and he wondered what she thought about.

Alan frowned at the concern in her voice. Was she truly frightened? “I’m certain it was a one-off experience. A poacher gone awry perhaps.” The ear didn’t pain him much any longer.

She laid a hand on his left knee. “Let us hope that is the case.”

Did she know something he didn’t? Shoving the thought away, he buried his nose into her unbound hair. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

Another grin curved her lips. “What do you want, then?”

“You. I want you, writhing with passion, in my arms, begging me to send you flying.” For the moment, desire overrode every other sense. There was something about Imogen that he craved, wanted—needed—for his continued existence, but if they truly weren’t going to suit because he was too broken or she was, he would ultimately let her go.

Regardless if she was already carrying his child.

“Unless you make inroads into that, we won’t arrive that that scenario, will we, Averly?” When she nestled her head into his chest and against his cheek, the warmth of her scattered his thoughts. He applied himself to the task of arousing her, for once those feelings had been engaged, introducing her to one of his toys would be easier.

“Such a managing baggage,” Alan whispered as he drew his fingers along the bodice of her nightdress. The lace that trimmed the garment tickled his palm but made it all too easy to slip his hand inside and brush a nipple with a finger. At her quick inhalation, he grinned. “Are you already in great need, duchess?”

“I soon will be.” She tightened her hand on his knee.

“There is nothing I enjoy more than seeing a woman flushed with desire knowing I’ll soon claim her body and send her into bliss.” Then he reeled from his next thought. There was more to bonding with a woman than physical pleasure. It was how he made her feel and his aptitude in wrapping her in a web of sensation while spending time with her that would garner the attention of her mind and soul. Combined with plying her body would provide all the answers he sought to unravel the puzzle she made. “In making her—you—feel safe and protected,” he added in a choked voice, for weren’t they both looking for that?

“Why, you are almost waxing poetic tonight. Perhaps it’s good your friends called.”

“Ha. They’re rogues, all of them.” He withdrew his hand to undo the ties holding the wrapper closed, then he tugged the bodice of the gown down and easily freed her breasts from the fabric. The second Alan took those full globes into his hands, she uttered a shuddering sigh as if she’d wanted him to do that very thing. Had she felt that odd connection from yesterday as well? Gently, he squeezed them, weighed them while the dark pink nipples hardened. He rolled those pebbled buds, first at their base, and when she softly moaned her pleasure, he applied more pressure to the tips.

“Oh, yes.” Her breathless whisper encouraged him to continue his play, and with every caress and stroke of his fingers, she arched her back, her legs bending at the knees. “I have a feeling it won’t take much to send me over.” As he flicked his thumbs over her nipples, teasing them with varying levels of friction, a moan followed on the heels of her statement.

“Having difficulty maintaining your composure, duchess?” He grinned as she shivered. He nuzzled beneath her jaw, nipping, and nibbling the satiny skin there while he slipped his hands down her body. As he licked the side of her neck, kissed that fragrant flesh, he drew up her fine lawn skirts, finding his way through the fabric until he could skim his fingers over the silky skin of her thighs.

While he did so, he remembered how she’d teased him in the traveling coach. She was wonderfully bold and outspoken at times, but in others, she was as vulnerable as a frightened schoolgirl when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Why?

He wished their positions were reversed so he could kiss and nip every inch of her legs, but he would save that for another time; tonight wasn’t for his pleasure, only hers. Imogen’s soft moans of approval urged him onward, and he grinned. She was so responsive to his touch. It both flattered and humbled him. In this moment, his ego had fled, and in its place came the will to put someone else first. If he wasn’t careful, he’d tumble down that slippery slope to somewhere he’d vowed not to visit again. When he brushed his fingers through the strawberry blonde curls hiding her sex and she spread open her thighs, she trembled in his hold and his breath caught.

“I want you so much,” she said in an urgent whisper.

“That isn’t our destination tonight.” He lightly bit her earlobe then sucked and soothed that fleshy bit with his lips. “But I am going to treat you to something just as lovely.” As she tried to twist around to see him, he tsked his tongue. “No peeking.” After giving one of her nipples a pinch that had her gasping, he delved his hand into the waist at the rear of his breeches where he’d hidden the toy. Seconds later he withdrew a wooden phallus that was sheathed in a thin covering of supple leather that didn’t compromise the shape of the shaft nor change the integrity of the tool’s stones.

It was one of his favorite things to tease his mistress or for her to use on him every so often when their play went into another level. Would Imogen like it too?

“This is what the Italians call a diletto, or dildo, and it’s used to enhance carnal play.”

“I’d heard rumors about you and your penchant for toys. Is this the only one you have?” Anticipation threaded through her voice.

“No. I have several, as well as a few thinner ones that are easy to insert in the anus.” He rubbed the leather over a nipple so she could see the toy, then drew the object down her torso, over the fabric of her night wear, and rested it on her mons. “Are you certain you wish for me to employ this? It’s not conventional and—”

“I want whatever you’ll give me.” She guided his free hand back to her breast. “Tell me why you like to use them.”

“They give me the control I need.” There was no shame in admitting it. “For so long, my life spun crazily and forced me to do things I didn’t wish to do, shoved responsibilities upon me I didn’t have time to reconcile with, so in this, I can take back that control I am denied elsewhere. I decide how much pleasure I give or when a lover can fall into bliss. I decide how much they have access to me.”

Would she hate him now?

“Did you do this with Miriam?”

How the devil did she know his mistress’ name? “Yes.”

“Did she enjoy it?”

“To a certain point, but more than she did being restrained with ropes.” Would his wife let him do that?

Her breathing hitched. “Mmm, tied…” For the space of a few heartbeats, she remained silent. Then she nodded. “I can understand why you do it, and that a personality like yours needs a specific personality to receive and play with you.”

“And?” He could hardly breathe.

“I want to share that with you. All of it. Partially, that sentiment is what drove me to explore my own body at night when I was banished to Derbyshire, because I wished to control my own reactions when I wanted them.”

And that only made him want to hear her story all the more.

“Perhaps we should remind ourselves that we can decide if we wish to continue feeling broken or not.” Could he convince himself of that as well? “Imagine this dildo is me, moving inside you,” he whispered into her ear. “If you feel the need to scream, do it. There is no embarrassment in the enjoyment of carnal play.”

With one hand, Alan encouraged the button at her center out of hiding then with the other, he circled the phallus tip around that nubbin, teasing her. Seconds later, he let it slide down, resting it at her entrance, rubbed it back and forth to draw out her arousal. “Last chance to beg off.”

“I want it,” she said as she tightened her fingers on his knee.

Holding the toy in a firm grip by the wooden stones, with a flick of his hand, he penetrated her body as deep as he could go with the dildo. “How does that feel? If it’s uncomfortable, we’ll stop.”

“I… Oh!” She touched a hand to his, pressing it against herself, keeping the toy inside her. “It’s lovely enough, but it’s not you.”

That unexpected compliment tugged at his chest. Not having anything to say, he moved his hand, sliding the phallus in and out until he found a rhythm he liked, and she enjoyed. Once she relaxed, he watched Imogen’s face. With each stroke, he rolled or pinched her nipple depending on his mood. Or he kissed her neck, or nibbled the soft skin. When she lifted her hips to match his thrusting, his breath caught. His chest tightened as he imagined fucking the hell out of her, but that wasn’t on the agenda tonight. Heat spread through his torso; need tingled through his stones, and he tried his best to ignore those feelings. As he worked her over with the phallus, he slid his other hand down to play with her swollen bud, further bringing her to the brink with exquisite torture.

And it was glorious to concentrate only on her.

“Oh, oh, oh…” Imogen bucked her hips against his hand. “Alan!” She sucked in a breath, no doubt in anticipation to scream out her pleasure, but at the last second, she turned her head, pressed her face into his neck as her body shuddered and she shattered in his arms.

An unexpected rush of affection slammed into him. He held her close while she came down from her release. As discreetly as he could, Alan removed the phallus, let it drop between her legs. “Can I assume you enjoyed that?”

“Need you even ask?” Once she’d half turned, she put a hand to his nape and she kissed him, leaving him to bob on another wave of bonding that had nothing to do with physical release on his part. When she met his gaze, she grinned.

“What deviltry are you planning? I can see it in your eyes.” And it worked to further harden his shaft.

“I want you to use that diletto on me again, but directly afterward, I want you to claim my body… after I drive you to the brink with my own teasing.” One of her blonde eyebrows arched. “What say you to that?”

Damnation, but she was becoming quite a perfect companion. Of course, they’d not shared anything of their pasts, but perhaps it didn’t matter so much, not when they were building trust right now. Yet when he did, would she still wish to be with him? Only time would tell.

“Oh, I’ll claim you, duchess, and I’ll do it while you’re on your knees this time.” And if fate were kind, he wouldn’t shoot off his wad prematurely while he played her body again with the diletto. But first, he caught her chin in his hand and kissed her with an intensity that surprised him.

There was a certain freedom he’d found in his wife, and it left him at sixes and sevens.