Page 3 of Tantalizing the Duke
“It’s different for me. I’ll have to move to a village where no one has heard of my father, or my own mishaps, or my husband will be a laughingstock.” Milly’s lips pinched into a thin line. “I must marry a man who doesn’t desire children, so they aren’t tainted with my illegitimacy.”
Glancing about, Milly made sure no one was listening before adding, “And I’m uncertain I could be satisfied with one man for the rest of my life.”
The other two women laughed loudly enough to draw attention. “You haven’t experienced the right man, dear girl,” Verity said.
“I’ve sampled so many, I can’t believe there’s one who would tempt me above all others,” Milly rejoined, biting her lip. “Perhaps I should offer my hand to the highest bidder. The winner at one of those tables, perhaps?”
The suggestion hung in the air, met with incredulous delight. Verity gasped, eyes wide with a mixture of horror and amusement. “Oh, Milly, do you really wish to end up with another Crampmoore?”
“It’s tempting fate, isn’t it?” Milly admitted, her bravado fading.
“You might marry a gambler with more debts than titles,” Betty warned, still smiling. “I thought you’d sworn off both.”
Milly conceded with a rueful chuckle. Her friends’ laughter mingled with the racket of the room, but even the clamor couldn’t drown out her silent resolve. She knew the peril of an impulsive choice, yet the prospect thrilled her more than it should.
“Be patient,” Verity counseled. “Betty and I will see that you find the perfect match. Someone generous, with fewer former wives than Crampmoore, and possibly with children.”
Betty sighed. “Poor things. Imagine having a mother who runs off to Sutcliffe’s every week!”
“And quite enjoys herself, at that,” added Verity. Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “A dreadful woman. Where will they ever find such a scandalous bride?”
Milly smiled coyly. “But what if I can’t wait for you to rustle up this magnificent man?”
“Then take one for the night and leave the rest to us,” Betty said with a playful wink.
“We’ll speak to our own friends, of course,” Verity assured her. “There’s bound to be a willing widower or two. And you know some men adore a wife who craves pleasure.”
“Just so long as that wife isn’t seen as damaged goods,” Milly said, unable to mask the flicker of doubt.
Berry shook her head. “Perhaps you need to be reminded of how appealing you really are. Which of these cads shall we trust for the task?”
Milly surveyed the room, contemplating her many options. “The most handsome, naturally. Or at least the least insipid.” She feigned consideration, then added with girlish defiance, “The lot of them, if I had my way.”
Her friends laughed. Milly rose from her seat, the weight of her predicament replaced by the lightness of renewed hope. Even in jest, her scandalous vow to win freedom kindled her spirit, a blazing revolt against the drear future her father had planned. She resolved not to act rashly, as she had promised, but let herself be swept up by desire in the very first rogue’s embrace.
With a teasing glance over her shoulder, she blew a kiss to her companions, then made her way toward the stairway to the private rooms.
CHAPTER TWO
The light was soft on the carpets in the hallway leading to the owners’ offices, lending Sutcliffe’s a quiet dignity that belied the true nature of the place. A bustling hive of secret longings and unchecked passions, the club hummed with conversations he had heard too many times before. None interested Lester Burgess, the Duke of Dainsfield. Only in his office could he count on the privacy he craved.
Yet periodically throughout the day or evening, he or one of the other two owners needed to make an appearance on the gaming floor. When he ran out of valid excuses to remain behind his desk, he left the office to find an expected surprise in the hallway. She smelled of orange blossoms and audacity, and when she threw herself into his arms, he found himself, as always, at a loss for what to do with her.
“You are just the man I sought,” Milly announced, her voice playful and flirtatious in his ear.
“Are there not enough to choose from upstairs?”
Her laughter was a sweet, reckless thing. She pulled back, her eyes bright with something daring. “No one else could get away with asking me that.”
Dainsfield allowed himself a rare smile. “No one else would dare be as rude as I.”
The scent of her lingered as he set her from him. She seemed never to change, a perpetually youthful creature despite the years they’d known each other. Five, to be precise, though is seemed like forever. How he had survived those years without making her his own remained a mystery. They first met at a cyprian party so outrageously attended that he still marveled at her audacity for appearing. She was all of eighteen years, an enticing, scandalous delight to the mature rogues there. He had been a young duke of twenty-seven, jaded enough to assume he had seen all of society’s debauchery. Then there was Milly.
He turned back toward his office, shaking his head with fond disbelief. “I suppose you’ll insist on a drink, since you’ve already ambushed me.”
“How generous of you, Dainsfield,” she said, flouncing in after him. She settled into a chair with feline ease, her bodice resting scandalously low on her breasts in an abandon typical of her.
“And what new intrigues have you brought with you this evening?” he inquired, sinking into a seat across from her, observing her with both wariness and affection. “Will I have to rescue you from anything?”