Page 11 of Secrets of a Duke’s Heart (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #25)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

J ude paced the library while Harriet stood straight and stubborn, hands clasped at her waist. He’d never seen that mulish expression on her face before.

After all the trouble he’d gone to in order to keep her ordeal under wraps, she wanted to marry her abductor.

Absurd.

A farce.

What had happened to his sweet little niece? The one he had been enchanted by as an infant? The girl he’d raised into a proper young lady? That Harriet Turner was gone. In her place was a changeling.

“I am not marrying Lord Lucarran,” she insisted.

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “Yes, Harriet, you are.”

“No, I am not, and if you would only listen to me, you would understand why.”

“Fine. Do inform me why you are acting like a petulant child instead of a grown woman with a responsibility to honor her word,” he snarled.

Behind Harriet, perched unobtrusively on a wingback chair with her chin propped on her fist, sat Clarissa, listening. She missed nothing. The fact that he had concealed his status as a duke for this long was a miracle. He’d done it to save his beloved niece, and she was rewarding him with ingratitude.

“Rémy was helping me,” she declared. Ridiculous nonsense from a lovestruck child. Harriet was twenty-three but she had always been a sensible girl, yet Jude saw no sign of sense in her now. “He saw me. You and I traveled together for weeks, yet not once did you notice how much I did not want to marry Lucarran. You barely look at me.”

Jude flinched.

“I wish you had told me that before we trekked halfway across England to bring you to him.”

“We could have married in London.”

“Lucarran requested the ceremony take place in his home country. I obliged him. You were offered a chance to refuse him and instead you agreed. Why back out now?”

After all I have done to protect you, this is how you thank me? By acting like your feckless mother?

He dared to glance at Clarissa and found pity in her bright eyes.

He loathed her pity. He didn’t want it. Didn’t need it.

“Uncle Monty, you presented me with one choice, take it or leave it. You made it very clear that if I refused Lord Lucarran, I would remain at Acton Heath as your perpetual ward and nothing but a burden. I only said yes to his offer because you so obviously wanted me to and I was desperate to please you.”

Clarissa’s brow pleated. This would be the worst time for her to guess that he was a duke. The Montague family’s estate was famous in the north. It wasn’t implausible that a lady would have heard about its rolling green acres and ancient oaks, the productive fields tilled by tenant farmers, or the pottery factory he had built to take advantage of the fine clay found in the less arable land. There had been a stir when a duke went into trade, but he considered it more of a workshop supporting artisans. For profit, of course. Everyone benefited.

He didn’t have time for Clarissa’s anger now. He had to make his stubborn youthful niece see reason.

A growl rumbled in his throat. He hated the idea that he needed to remind her of her obligation to marry the earl. But obviously, he did. Lucarran was already on his way from London. He’d sent word that he was coming as soon as he received Jude’s private messenger. He expected to reach Cavalier Cove before midnight. He trusted Lord Montague’s word that Harriet remained unviolated and agreed that the best course of action was to marry her immediately, thus putting to rest any rumors that might circulate.

Except that Jude had the distinct sense his darling niece wasn’t quite so innocent anymore. As if to confirm his worst suspicions, she said, “I am not your little niece in need of protection anymore. I can make my own decisions. I am pleading with you to help Rémy make amends for his crimes, which I do not believe to be as bad as they have been painted by the Waterguard.”

“He is a criminal!” Jude exploded.

“Until the Waterguard proves its case in court, Rémy Desmarais is an innocent man.” Clarissa’s unyielding patience and the fact that she was correct only drove his ire higher. She murmured to Harriet, who glanced uneasily at him before determination hardened in her face.

Women.

She was a woman now. All grown up. His little niece didn’t need him anymore. A vise tightened around his ribs. His lungs couldn’t expand past the ache.

“Clearly, my darling little niece is still in need of protection, if this is the kind of decision she makes when left to her own devices.”

He strode from the room without a backward glance.

* * *

Poor Harriet’s lower lip trembled. Her eyes glistened with tears.

Clarissa had to say something. If she had kept her mouth shut a few minutes ago, Mr. Montague would have stayed. They could have worked things out if she hadn’t ruined the moment.

But oh , how angry Jude had made her just now.

“Miss Turner, I have had several days to become acquainted with your uncle. He despises being backed into a corner. Give him time, and he will come around.”

“Will he?” Harriet said despairingly.

“I believe so. In the meantime, I have a suggestion. Come. Let us speak with my cousin. He may have an idea.”

She and Harriet found Nathaniel out back inspecting the roof of an outbuilding.

“The whole damn thing needs to be replaced. For every farthing I bring in, ten more go out. I shall have to see what else I can sell,” he muttered.

“Cousin, Miss Turner has come to plead her case.”

“I don’t see what I can do to help you.” He scowled at the roof, clearly distracted. Undeterred, Harriet launched right in, repeating everything she had told her uncle in hopes of finding a more sympathetic audience. Clarissa’s contribution to the discussion was to arch one brow whenever Nathaniel seemed inclined to skepticism. By the end of their conversation, Clarissa could see him wavering.

With a bit of cousinly pressure, she could convince him to give her the key to the Frenchman’s cell. All they had to do was wait until the Riders returned to the Cock and Bull for the evening. Judging from the way Nathaniel kept finding odd things to do around the estate, he was as anxious to be rid of their unwanted guests, too.

Once Harriet was settled and the house was quiet, she made her way to Mr. Montague’s private quarters. His rooms were spacious, if shabby, which was in keeping with the rest of the Prescott house. Her pulse scrambled as she knocked twice. He yanked the door open wearing nothing but his shirtsleeves and trousers, looking no less haggard and careworn than he had before.

Only more undressed. She swallowed. This was a bad idea, and yet…

“What do you want, Miss Penfirth?” he growled.

“I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have interfered in your discussion with your niece. May I come in? This is not a conversation for the servants to overhear.”

He gestured to the sitting area beside the fire. Heat rose to her cheeks when she saw the huge four-poster bed that dominated the room. She perched in the seat and determinedly ignored it despite the fervid possibilities her mind conjured. Jude’s big hands on her breasts. His hot mouth sucking and licking trails of pleasure down her?—

“I feel as if I’ve lost a child,” he said brokenly. Each and every one of Clarissa’s inappropriate imaginings winked out in a puff of smoke. She shifted guiltily in her chair. He was despondent and she was supposed to be lending a sympathetic ear, not imagining him naked. He stood with one forearm braced against the mantel, brooding into the firelight. The dancing flames caressed his face lovingly like fingers of hellfire, tempting her to do the same.

“Harriet?” she queried in an attempt to force her mind away from other subjects. He nodded bleakly.

“She acts so differently now. She was always meek and docile.”

Clarissa had her own opinion as to Miss Turner’s docility, but now was not the time to share it with a man who was suffering.

“Is it not better to accept that she has made her decision than to compel her to fulfil a bargain she no longer wishes to uphold?”

He glanced at her, his dark eyes roiling with emotion. Her heart ached for him.

“You obviously love her very much,” she said softly. A lump clogged her throat. She couldn’t get the rest of what she wanted to say out.

I would give anything for you to love me that much.

But he wouldn’t. Their dalliance would be forgotten this time next week. He would return to wherever he was from, and in a few weeks she would return to her mother’s house to knit and keep company with women twice her age. She didn’t mind—they were generally kindhearted ladies—but a part of her yearned for more from life. To experience love, and be loved in return. To have a family. Mr. Montague valued family, that much was clear. They had this in common.

“She is like a daughter to me,” he said.

“Then you should at least meet with her chosen groom. Harriet is an intelligent girl. She would not have chosen him without good reason.”

Jude paced a few steps, radiating anxiety. “What would I tell Lord Lucarran? He is on his way here now to finalize the marriage.”

“Try something along the lines of ‘Good sir, I understand this is a blow to your honor but surely you do not want a wife who yearns for another man.’”

“He wouldn’t care. Aristocratic marriages are not about feelings. They are about wealth. Consolidating it.”

“But she isn’t an aristocrat.” Clarissa tipped her head. “I thought you said she had an adequate dowry, but wasn’t highborn.”

“She isn’t,” he gritted out. He jerked his head away as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t.

She swallowed past a lump in her throat. He was still keeping secrets from her. Perhaps, if she could accept that this was destined to be a short-lived affair, she could let herself enjoy a dalliance?

Jude seemed to read her thoughts. With a fierce expression, he took two strides to her and cupped her chin. Startled, she blinked up at him.

“You are the one good thing to come of this entire misadventure, Clarissa. You are the one thing keeping me sane. I know I haven’t always acted like it, but your counsel has been gold.”

Slowly, she stood. His hand never left her face until they were standing toe-to-toe. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

“You are as wise as you are beautiful.”

“I cannot be very wise, then, for I am no great beauty.”

He huffed. “Your beauty is the kind that time cannot wither.” He tugged her closer. “Kindness and intelligence are in short supply. You are amply endowed with both.”

He bent to capture her lips, his breath ghosting against her cheek. Clarissa slid her hands up his chest to twine around his neck. She opened to him, welcoming, testing her welcome with a tentative darting of her tongue between his teeth. He groaned and anchored her hard against his front, palming her breast through her dress.

“You’re just as well-endowed here. An irresistible combination. I cannot comprehend how any man allowed you to slip through his grasp, but I am so grateful he did, for I have you now and I am not letting you go.”

Heady words indeed. Clarissa felt like she was soaring high above her body, yet grounded in his touch. She tugged his shirt hem out of his trousers and dared to dance her fingertips along the bare skin of his lower back. He groaned and pressed the advantage, his tongue tangling with hers. Molten heat settled low in her core.

The placket of her dress parted. How had he managed to slip free those little buttons without her noticing? No matter. Clarissa stepped away from his embrace, letting the fabric slide down her shoulders and past her waist to puddle at her feet.

Jude’s eyes caught hers and held. Reaching behind his head, he tugged the loose linen of his shirt up and off, tossing it casually aside. Just like that, he was naked from the waist up. A huge lump jutted against the front of his trousers. Her mouth went dry. She dragged her gaze back up to find a smirk curling up the corner of his mouth.

“Like what you see?”

“I do,” she said boldly. “You sang my praises, but if I had my way, I would leave you in a perpetual state of undress.”

“To the horror of all who saw.”

“No one would see you but me, for I would keep you all to myself,” she said brazenly as she worked the laces of her stays. They fell away, leaving her in her shift and stockings. His gaze raked down her body. His eyes darkened.

“On the bed, minx,” he ordered.