Page 3 of Starlight and the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #5)

F iona’s smile faltered as she felt the impact of Rob’s smoldering gaze on her. It tore through her like wildfire. And now he was nodding and agreeing to… Dear heaven , what was she thinking? This was going to be a disaster.

He rubbed a hand across the nape of his neck. “I am accepting your proposal with one modification.”

They were still standing on the steps of Lady Forster’s terrace, the lively strains of a popular English reel filling the night air.

He looked magnificent in his black tie and tails, his jacket cut to perfection and stretching with impeccable precision across his broad shoulders before molding to his muscled torso and trim waist. “What modification?”

His eyes were the most stunning shade of green she had ever beheld, reminiscent of an emerald ocean and flecked with silver, as though he had captured the stars and they now shone only through him.

This was what made his gaze so dangerous. One glance was all it took, and he had her insides tumbling like a capsized boat upon rough waters.

His dark-gold hair also had flecks of silver at the temples, which gave him an aura of authority to add to his already too-tempting features.

However, as dangerously handsome as Rob was, she knew that she would always be safe with him.

Always.

He gave her cheek a light caress. “I am not going to propose to anyone until three months after the house party.”

Pain filled her, for she understood the reason for his caution. He thought their activities in the week before the house party might leave her with child.

What a painful jest. Did he not understand what it meant to be barren? This was what she was, and had almost twenty years of empty hopes to prove it.

He should not have raised the issue when he knew how much it upset her. How could she ever fulfill the only requirement vital to becoming his duchess, the ability to produce an heir? He knew this and stubbornly refused to accept it.

His arms came around her and he hugged her to him as she struggled to regain her composure. “Three months, Rob? Why bother? You know there is no chance of my conceiving.” She emitted a ragged sigh, for every word carried a wealth of ache.

“We’ll see.”

“Stop, Rob. I know how protective you are of me, but not even you can fix this. Neither your potency nor your prowess in the bedchamber is going to fix me. No more talk about this, please. I need to pull myself together before I walk back into the ballroom.”

He regarded her with obvious reluctance. “All right, but do you really want to return inside?”

“It is almost midnight and they will soon ring the bell for supper.”

“Are you hungry?”

She gave a curt laugh. “Not in the least.”

“Shall I take you home?” He was being gentle with her again, as he always was. “Or have you brought your own carriage?”

She shook her head. “I came with Cherish and Gawain.”

She had never been happier than when Cherish had married Fiona’s cousin, Gawain, Duke of Bromleigh, one of the ton ’s notorious Silver Dukes until tamed by Cherish. Fiona was proud to have brought about their love match.

If only the same were possible for herself.

But she’d had her turn at marriage and harbored no regrets, for Shoreham had been a good husband on the whole. Theirs had never been a passionate love match, but a very good and caring friendship.

That made for a successful marriage, did it not?

“Let me find Bromleigh,” Rob said, his voice a deep rumble that flowed through her like warm honey. “I’ll let him know I am taking you home.”

“You needn’t.”

“I know, but do you want to remain at this party?”

She shook her head, feeling a sudden chill that sprang from her insides and not from the crisp night air surrounding them. “No.”

He placed her arm in his and led her inside, steering her through the crush and into the entry hall. He asked for his carriage to be brought around, and then turned to her. “Wait here. I’ll advise Bromleigh I am taking you home. I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling quite alone even though footmen were scurrying all around her and some of the partygoers had spilled out of the ballroom into this front hall.

She smiled at a few when they acknowledged her.

Spoke briefly to one or two of them. But she always felt an emptiness when Robert Durham left her side, even now as he left briefly to convey a message to her cousin.

She hated this need for him, and how desperately her heart had grown to crave him.

In every other respect, she was capable, confident, and enjoyed her independence.

She liked being in charge and managing her own assets, for her dear Shoreham had been generous in providing for her.

She also liked meddling in other people’s affairs, especially when it came to romantic matters.

She was very good at making love matches, Gawain and Cherish being perhaps her greatest achievement.

But this was why being around Rob unsettled her so much.

If such a thing as mates of the heart existed, he was hers.

And perhaps this was why she was sabotaging her own efforts to remarry, always choosing to flirt with clots like Lord Dexter because she could never take them seriously and would never be so foolish as to marry such a man.

There was only one man she wanted, and that was Robert Durham.

But he needed a wife who could produce an heir.

This failing in her might not have mattered had he a slew of siblings, namely brothers, or even male cousins who could have taken on the responsibility of siring Durham male heirs.

But Rob was the last. The title would extinguish upon his death, leaving at risk all his remaining relatives, most of whom were elderly ladies and utterly dependent on him to maintain their genteel lives.

He also had employees, tenants, servants, and so many others who were under his protection and needed this proud line to continue.

That he would choose her above all his duties overwhelmed and humbled her, but they both knew it was wrong.

Rob strode out of the ballroom and cast her a smile as he approached. “Gawain is duly advised. Let’s get you home.”

She smothered a grin as the impressive Durham carriage rolled up in front of the Forster residence. It was as big and powerful as its owner, its black steel gleaming in the torchlight and the rampant lions on the Durham crest emblazoned on the door looking ready to leap out and devour her.

Rob helped her climb in, lightly wrapping his hands around her waist to give her the slight boost. She sat on the forward-facing bench seat and watched Rob settle into the seat across from hers, leaning his broad shoulders against the soft leather squabs.

“How does it feel to be a duke now?” she asked, for they had not seen each other much in the months leading up to his inheritance of the title. He looked quite big within the confines of the carriage.

And quite daunting.

“I don’t mind the added work. In fact, I am enjoying it. But I detest the attention.”

“You have always had the ability to command a room, with or without your title. People always notice you.” Because he carried himself with an elegant grace, moving about a ballroom with the confidence of a panther on the prowl.

He was giving her that panther look now, those shimmering eyes trained on her as they rode along the familiar London streets that were eerily quiet at this hour.

All she could hear was the clop-clop of the carriage horses as their hooves hit the ground, and the squeak of carriage springs as they jounced along.

She blushed under the force of his stare. Shivers of delight ran through her despite her efforts to ignore the raw heat of him. “I am going to jump out of your carriage if you continue to look at me this way.”

“How am I looking at you?” Even his voice held power, for it was deep, smooth, and dangerous.

“You are already imagining me in your bed.”

He shrugged. “You are the one who suggested it. Having second thoughts?”

“No.” Giving him full access to her body was the perfect solution, and they both knew it. He would satisfy his fantasies and move on.

She would satisfy hers . An entire week with Rob to give her memories to dream on. Hot, set-fire-to-the-bed memories to warm her lonely nights.

And why not?

She noticed his hands, big and slightly roughened because he was no dandy.

She noticed his smile, the way it shone through his silver-flecked eyes and seemed meant just for her.

Most of all, she loved the quiet seriousness about him, a trait he’d displayed even as a child, an innate confidence and assurance that instilled trust in all who knew him.

A week seemed a proper length of time for both of them to get what they needed from each other and move on.

“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” she asked when they had arrived at her elegant townhouse in Duchess Square, one of those lovely Mayfair enclaves lined with pretty trees and blooming flowers, particularly wisteria in April and May, and roses throughout the summer.

“We can discuss this plan further, if you wish. Or do nothing of the sort and simply chat about things in general.”

“Not tonight, Fiona.”

She swallowed her disappointment, for she had not expected him to refuse her invitation.

He led her to the door and watched as she turned the latchkey to let herself into her home.

There was no butler on duty at this late hour to open it for her, nor would she ever assign anyone on her staff to such a duty, forcing them to stay awake for hours when she was fully capable of letting herself in.

Rob entered with her and made certain nothing was amiss before turning to leave. “Lock that door after me.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied with military curtness, then smiled because she loved that protective quality about him.

He would make a good husband and father someday. Those protective instincts were very strong in him. Yet he would never be overbearing or demanding.

“Will I see you tomorrow, Rob?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She had been invited to supper at Cherish’s home.

Gawain’s friends, Lynton, Camborne, and Ramsdale, were to join them with their wives.

The four men had been considered Silver Dukes, handsome, fortyish, dashes of silver at the temples, and confirmed bachelors until meeting the women who had won their hearts.

But if Rob was not to be there, then would she be the odd female in their numbers?

“Reggie will probably attend the supper party to even out the table,” he said, reading her thoughts. “Margaret is visiting her parents this week, so he’ll attend on his own.”

Lord Reginald Burton was Gawain’s nephew and Rob’s best friend. He was also related to Fiona, a first cousin once removed, if one were to adhere to the precise terms for lines of descent and consanguinity. Reggie was a good soul and would be excellent company. “And you? Did they not invite you?”

“They did. But I have Durham business matters that need my attention. I’ll be leaving for Devonshire first thing tomorrow morning.”

“When will you be back in London?”

“I won’t. It doesn’t make sense for me to return here just to turn around and head back south for Cherish and Gawain’s summer party.”

“So you’ll join me at Shoreham Manor a week before their party begins? I am serious about my proposal, Rob. It is the only sensible solution for us.”

“It is hardly sensible,” he muttered, but cast her a rakish grin. “Nor am I likely to forget that invitation to join you in your bed. I never took you for a wanton, Fiona.”

She gasped. “I am no such thing!”

He arched an eyebrow. “Admit it, you are eager for my body.”

“It is a selfless act of sacrifice and nothing more,” she said, frowning at him.

“If you say so, Joan of Arc.” He leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead.

She smothered her disappointment, wishing he might have kissed her on the lips now that they had struck this scandalous bargain.

But Rob was too noble ever to take advantage. Since their week of tawdry lusting had not yet started, he would remain a gentleman.

Though perhaps her disappointment had not been all that smothered, since he now regarded her with bone-melting heat. “Gad, Fiona.”

“What?”

He cast her a smug grin. “You want me.”

She punched his shoulder. “Go away, Durham. You are irritating me.”

He cast her that I’m-a-hungry-panther-about-to-devour-you look. “Good night, Fiona.”

He turned around and walked out the door. She closed it and then leaned her entire body against it, her knees too weak to hold her up.

Dear heaven.

Even her breaths were ragged.

How could this happen?

Her head was still resting against the door when she suddenly heard a sharp rap that had her leaping to attention. “Fiona, lock that door.”

Was Rob still here?

“I am not leaving until I know that latch has fallen into place.”

“Doing it right now,” she assured him, and hastily complied. “Did you hear that? All done. I’m safe. See you in a few weeks.”

But there was a heavy silence on the other side of the door.

She knew he was still there because she felt him. This was what happened whenever he was close—her skin prickled and she felt alive.

“I will see you then, won’t I?”

Still silence.

He wasn’t having a change of heart, was he?