Page 11 of Ravenhurst’s Return (Disreputable Dukes of Club Damnation #1)

May 27, 1815

Ravenhurst Hall

Bradwell-on-the-Sea

Near Southminster

Essex, England

When Ravenhurst came into the drawing room that afternoon, his steps skittered to a halt when he beheld one of his club members Giles Fitzroy, 3 rd Duke of Steppingford, sitting as large as life on one of the sofas with a snifter of brandy in his hand.

“What the devil are you doing here?” He hadn’t seen the duke in years. Hell, it had been the night before he was kidnapped, in fact, for the man was of an age with him, perhaps a year or two older, and he looked it, for grays streaked through his dark brown hair.

And why the hell had Anders admitted him?

“And a good afternoon to you.” The other man didn’t employ enough manners to rise and greet him, but then, the members of Club Damnation were disreputable for a reason. “If you must know, Eggleton sent me.”

“Why?”

“Apparently, he has concerns about your state of mind.” He took a sip of the dark amber liquor as one of his bushy eyebrows rose. “Due to you kidnapping a woman who is someone’s fiancée.”

“Ah.” Heat crept up the back of Alexander’s neck. “Well, that is no concern of yours or his.” In fact, with Steppingford’s presence, his intentions of spending the afternoon in Madeline’s company had been thwarted. And that rubbed him the wrong way. Was she even now in the portrait gallery or had she perhaps decided to go for a walk before the overcast skies released rain from their swollen clouds?

Damn, but enjoying a good fuck in the rain was something he’d not done. Would she embrace such a thing with enthusiasm, or would she call him out? It was always a mystery with her and her tart mouth.

Last night, after he’d laid claim to her body and wrestled with errant emotions that had no place in the revenge scheme, he and Madeline had spent a few hours in the dark of the summer night, listening to the babbling whisper of the stream, and while she’d dozed in his arms, he’d done the same, refusing to think beyond the next three days he’d have with her.

And for the first time in far too many years, he’d been able to relax. It had been unexpectedly refreshing, just as she was.

Steppingford grunted. “From what I managed to discern from Eggleton, you’ve got some rotted idea of revenge in your mind, and you believe that causing the ruination of Inglehart’s fiancée will help achieve that.” It wasn’t a question. “Have you done the deed then?”

The sarcastic inquiry wrenched him from the musings. Slowly, Alexander moved across the room toward the sideboard as he considered how to respond. “I have.” Sticking to the truth as much as possible seemed the lesser of two evils. “Inglehart has some maggot in his head that he only weds virgins, so I took that thrill away from him.” And if he’d managed to impregnate Madeline? His chest tightened and his hand shook as he splashed a measure of brandy into a cut crystal tumbler. Well, then he would live the remainder of his life knowing he’d cuckolded the marquess.

God help her.

“Interesting.”

Annoyance surged in Alexander’s chest. “Why would you say that?” He took his glass in hand, but the shaking hadn’t stopped as he tried to sip. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Well, don’t you find it strange that Miss Hardesty is still here when you’ve already ruined her? Why not send her back to London to her brother?” Fabric rustled, indicating Steppingford had either shifted his position or left the sofa. “I mean, if ruining her was what you’ve rested your revenge plan upon, and now that it has been accomplished, why is she still here? Assuming you haven’t dispatched her.”

“Of course I haven’t killed her.” This line of questioning was irksome. He met the other man in the middle of the room. “As for why she’s still here?” Well, he didn’t have a good answer for that other than he wanted her. “Perhaps I’m not done with her.”

Damn my eyes.

For the space of a few heartbeats, Steppingford peered at him with speculation in his eyes. Then he took another sip of brandy. “Why?” When Alexander didn’t immediately answer, he continued. “Why keep her here if you’ve already accomplished your goal? Let her go off and marry Inglehart, because if you don’t, the damned marquess is set to challenge you to a duel.”

“As if I care one whit about that. I have always been the better shot, even before my time in the Navy.” After draining his glass in one gulp that stung like the devil in his throat, he slammed the vessel down onto a nearby rose-inlaid table harder than he anticipated. “It doesn’t matter why she’s still here, but know this. She was only one part of the revenge, for I will kill the bastard for what he did to my parents. This is bigger than what he did to me.”

“The murder?”

“Among other things.”

“And after you kill the marquess? What then? Take up with his new widow?”

Alexander snorted. “Hardly.” Resting his hands on his hips, he stared at his friend. “He’ll be dead before he has a chance to utter his vows to her.”

“Ah.” The duke’s eyes narrowed. “Accomplish two goals as it were, hmm?”

“What are you trying to say?” God, just say it and force me to acknowledge the tentative thoughts that are running around my damn head!

“You want the woman for your own perverted purposes.”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped the other man would say, but it would do. “Not perverted.”

Surprise jumped into Steppingford’s eyes. “More than a doxy?”

“Perhaps.” He didn’t want to say, couldn’t, for he’d had no time to make sense of the gammon floating about in his brain. “Meeting her has brought… unexpected complications.”

“I see.” Once the other man finished his brandy, he rested the empty snifter next to Alexander’s glass. “And since you’ve admitted to at least that, whatever it is, let me ask you this. Have you developed feelings for Miss Hardesty beyond lust, revenge, or general fuckery?”

Leave it to Steppingford to lay it out in the most crass way. It was almost humorous. One corner of his mouth tipped into a grin. “I’m not certain. Suffice it to say, she has caught me by surprise, and I cannot, in good conscience, send her back to her brother, for he is as big a bounder as the marquess.”

“You wish to rescue her and in the process, you assume she can help to rescue you as well.” Steppingford chuckled. “How interesting. Can it truly be that the cruel and unyielding Captain Sutcliffe has fallen in love for the first time in his life, and now he doesn’t know what to do about it?”

The heat on the back of his neck intensified. “Bite your damned tongue, Steppingford. I am too broken and damaged to love anyone. Hell, I don’t even love myself. How can I, after everything I’ve done these past twenty years? After everything I was forced to do?” It sounded a bit desperate even to his own ears, but there was nothing for it.

Why the hell would he assume that anyone could love him, let alone her, after what he’d done to her? What he continued to do, no matter that during this past coupling, she had been a more than willing participant?

“Huh.” The other man pressed his lips together then clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ll be damned.” He shook his head. “Somehow, during the course of carrying out your revenge against one of London’s most notorious pricks, you have caught a bad case of soft feelings for a woman, and what’s more, because of her, you are slowly evolving and changing. Deep down, you want to be a better man, yet you are fighting it. Denying it all, for you don’t believe any of it, don’t want to believe it.”

“I…” He shook his head. None of that was true.

Was it?

Steppingford poked Alexander in the chest with a forefinger as his grin widened. “Yet you are hesitating to finally let yourself enjoy life, to seek happiness, to have peace except fear is holding you back, and you are clinging to that emotion like a lifeline because it’s better to deny everything, to hide, to fall back on the bastard that you have had to be.” The duke hooted with laughter as he stepped back. “You, my friend, you might not have tossed your hat over the windmill just yet, but it’s coming, and I couldn’t be more pleased.”

“Why?” He fairly shook from the accuracy of what Steppingford said as a ball of mixed emotions churned in his gut. Tamping on the urge to cast up his accounts, he shook his head. “Why would you say that?”

“You deserve to let good things come into your life. Out of everyone I know, and especially within the club, your story deserves a happy ending. The question remains, why are you fighting it? Why do you insist on clinging to the man you were before?”

“I don’t know.” His throat tightened, making talking difficult. “Perhaps it’s because that life is all I’ve ever known, because there is nothing else to live for.”

“That used to be true, yes, but not now.”

Alexander shook his head. “It’s such a large leap, an enormous change.”

“Yes, such things usually are, but they are also well worth the risk.”

He snorted. “And what of you, hmm? Would you go willingly into a relationship for no other reason than curiosity or the chance to embrace the unknown?”

“I would not.” When Alexander would have protested, the other man held up a hand. “In fact, I wouldn’t enter into a relationship, engagement, or marriage without the prospect of love.”

“Why?” Clearly, the man was mad, for he hadn’t formed an attachment over the years.

“Life is too short to drink cheap brandy, to eat tasteless, boiled meat, or to commit myself to women who aren’t fascinating and not in the usual style.” He shrugged. “Now, will you introduce me to the incomparable Miss Hardesty?”

“I will not.” He didn’t know why, but he wanted her kept a secret—his secret—and hoard her to himself for a little while longer yet. “But I will toss your arse out on the drive if you don’t leave willingly, and soon. I don’t wish to waste the rest of my time entertaining you when I can be doing other things.”

“You won’t offer me a room for the night?”

“Since I didn’t invite you here in the first place, you can find an inn in the village.”

That pulled a laugh from Steppingford. “Fair enough. I’ll drive back to London. A few hours on the road won’t harm me. Enjoy the rest of your revenge reward, but don’t blame me if it doesn’t end as well as you hope.” He winked. “I do envy you the fuck, though. Been quite a while since I last indulged.”

“Do shut up, my friend.” Yet Alexander couldn’t help his own grin. In this little bubble where only he and Madeline existed, he could see himself happy if only temporarily.

Almost.

Madeline hummed the melody from a popular song as she walked through the flower gardens at the rear of Ravenhurst’s lawn. Though portions of the large gardens showed signs of obvious neglect, there were other places where the very wildness had made those beds even more beautiful than they would have been if a team of gardeners came through. And still other areas had been lovingly tended to and cleared of debris.

In another month, the whole area would burst with a riot of color and scent with butterflies and bees flying through. Her chest tightened, for she wouldn’t have an opportunity to see it. Instead, she would be a month wed to Inglehart, and God only knew what would lie in store for her after that.

And what would become of the duke? She suspected that he wasn’t well in the mind—not that anyone could blame him after what he’d witnessed with his parents—but if he was able to talk about that in addition to the things he’d been made to do while in the Navy, would it make any difference? Or was he far too set in his questionable ways that nothing would help?

Last night had been so different from their first coupling that she still thought about it with surprise. Oh, there had been the same intensity about him to be certain, and he was as commanding and domineering as he’d been since their first meeting when he’d taken full advantage of her, but there was also a quiet vulnerability and longing in him that continued to call to her. No, she couldn’t magically make him better, but she could encourage him to set a toe upon a different path.

Would he even appreciate that?

Then her thoughts careened into another area entirely. What did it say about her as a woman that she wanted to remain here longer and spend more time with the duke? From his own admission, he said she’d be here for a week. Tonight would be the fourth night of that engagement, and she had barely seen him today. Did she believe he was as bad as he showed himself to be? No, she did not, for at the backs of his eyes, kindness and compassion waited, but for what? Was she that great of a ninny that after being bedded a couple of times, she now looked at the world through rose-colored lenses? Surely not. After all, she had more respect for herself as well as pride, and she was determined to do something with her talent for singing.

Would Inglehart let her have enough freedom to pursue those dreams? Her brother certainly hadn’t, and Ravenhurst had been the only man, outside of her former fiancé, to appear gobsmacked by the skill. If he was truly as horrid as he hinted at, music wouldn’t have had an effect.

“Madeline? Is all well?”

She startled at the sound of his voice, for she hadn’t been expecting him. Turning with a daffodil in her hand, she raked her gaze up and down his person as if she hadn’t seen him for months instead of hours. He’d been particularly sweet last night when he escorted her up to the manor and to the door of her bedchamber, ending their time together by pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, and there was a trace of uncertainty in his expression. “I hadn’t seen you much today, and I didn’t know if our session by the stream last night brought you harm.”

“Oh.” What a dear. Would a man who had no soul care about the well-being of the woman who he coupled with to get revenge on a peer? An odd situation to be sure, but she was more concerned with him. “There was no harm done. If you witnessed me crying, it had nothing to do with fear or unease or pain. I am still constantly amazed at what you manage to make me feel each time you put your hands on me.” There was no harm in being truthful.

“Ah. Good.” He didn’t move any closer to her, and she didn’t move either.

“A bit ago, I saw a carriage go down the drive and thought perhaps you had abandoned me.” That would be a tad better than being dumped off at her brother’s home and left to marry Inglehart. In mere days. The urge to retch climbed her throat.

I can’t think about that right now.

“If I leave this property, I will not be alone.” The familiar intensity had returned to his eyes, and those sapphire pools invited her to lose herself in them. “That was an acquaintance from Town. He’s a member of my club.”

“And he came for a visit? He didn’t stay long.”

The duke shrugged. “Apparently, some of my friends are concerned over my health and intentions, especially because some of them suspect I orchestrated your kidnapping.” They stared at each other for the space of a few heartbeats. “Steppingford wanted to know what would happen once I return to London with you.”

Well, he wasn’t the only one. “And?”

“I will bring you to your brother, of course. You are scheduled to wed Inglehart soon.” When he glanced away, Madeline nodded.

“Right,” she whispered as tears welled in her eyes. “Then you should take me back to London before nightfall today. You accomplished your goal; I’m no longer an innocent. There is no purpose for me to linger here and—”

Alexander moved so fast, caught her in his arms, and claimed her lips so quickly she hadn’t time to finish her statement let alone save the flower in her hand from being crushed. Though the kiss was forceful and a tad punishing, she appreciated his passion. When he wrenched away, they were both breathless. “I meant what I said the other day, that you are mine for the remainder of this week. And I refuse to let you go until I am thoroughly and completely done ruining the hell out of you.”

Shivers of need mixed with frissons of fear twisted down her spine, and she gasped. “What does that mean?”

His eyes glinted like sea glass, but they weren’t as hard as they’d been that first day. “I’m going to pull you over to that grouping of oak trees over there, fuck you so hard and so well that you might temporarily leave this earth, and then we’ll walk the property for a while. If you so desire, you may ask me questions, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer all of them.”

“Oh.” Heat blazed through Madeline’s cheeks from either his intentions or his use of vulgarity. She glanced toward the oak trees he’d indicated. “That location is in full view of the manor as well as the lane.”

“All the better.” After taking the daffodil from her hand, he threaded the stem through her upswept hair behind her ear. “Then anyone who is nosy and shirking their duty can agree that you belong to me.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her through the gardens. “It’s best not to think too heavily about the future, I’ve found.”

“So I’m beginning to think.” And ninny that she was, she followed him with the budding realization that she might be falling tip over tail for him at a far too rapid pace, and that would never do at all. He was her captor, the cause of her ruination, a man so bent on revenge he couldn’t see anything else around him, but none of that mattered in this moment, because to her, he would always be Alexander.

Her first crush and the subconscious mark she’d measured every other man by.

Merciful heavens, I’m in a bit of trouble.