Page 5 of Tantalizing the Duke
The temptation of fucking her before she married hit him like a hammer on an anvil. He’d had affairs or liaisons with married women, of course, but he’d never do that to Milly. The challenge of being faithful would be difficult for her, he was certain, and he refused to be a part of her downfall.
In the past, he’d avoided her at the sex-filled romps they both enjoyed, unwilling to be just another shaft in her silken passage, along with that niggling feeling she deserved better than that sort of treatment. Was he wrong to feel that way about her, when she clearly enjoyed being used thus? And why did he feel guilty now, for considering doing what he’d refrained from for the past five years?
There might not be time enough to spend an evening with her before she married, according to what she said about banns being read already. He needed to concentrate on finding her a husband, not fucking her enormous breasts. Heaven help him, though, if he had the chance to fondle them somewhere other than the club. All bets were off, in that case.
By the time Dainsfield reached the gaming floor, the early gamblers were at their usual tables, enriching the club’s coffers more likely than not, and seeming unconcerned about their potential losses. They came here to escape something, at this hour of the day, not to get rich. To win big at the card tables, one needed a wealthy opponent. Those men didn’t arrive until evening.
“What’s it like out there?” The Duke of Nomansland, one of Dainsfield’s co-owners, grinned, his broad smile showing how very pleased he was with the current turnout. He must have just arrived for the day.
“Mr. Talbot informed me one fellow is deep into his family’s fortune and hasn’t much left to show for it,” Dainsfield replied, nodding towards a corner table where a portly gentleman frowned as if having just swallowed a bitter dose of medicine.
“He’ll pay his dues. He always does,” Nomansland said.
Dainsfield considered the way the viscount in question sat rigid in his chair, lips a tight line, and reminded himself that appearances were often deceiving. He let out a short breath. “Make sure the dealer knows we won’t accept his IOU, just in case.” Sutcliffe’s rarely accepted the vowels of their noble clientele, and never from the gentry. Those pieces of paper didn’t earn interest when piled in a safe.
Nomansland nodded, then gave him a pointed look. “There was a time you enjoyed watching our patrons hemorrhage money. What’s troubling you?”
Dainsfield didn’t reply at once. He continued to gaze around the room as if something there interested him. The fact his emotions were plainly read by his friend displeased him. He’d been a gambler long enough that hiding his thoughts should be second nature. “Miss Nichols.”
His partner’s brows lifted with an amused incredulity. “Kingsland’s daughter? Surely you haven’t tupped her at last.”
“Of course not,” Dainsfield barked with more vehemence than intended. “She’s in need of a husband. She wants me to find one for her.”
“I am to assume, then, that you have not volunteered your own services?” Nomansland’s laughter rang out.
“You assume correctly,” Dainsfield said. “I’m not ready to wed.”
“Neither was Abingdon,” Nomansland countered, leaning against the wall beside him, his posture easy and unconcerned. “And look at him now. Blissfully shackled.”
“I like my life as it is,” Dainsfield said. “Between the club and my ducal duties, I don’t need to add more obligations to my plate.”
Nomansland chuckled, eyes shining with mischief. “Obligations? You make it sound as if it’s an act of martyrdom to marry. Taking young brides on holidays, dancing with them at balls. It’s a hard, lonely life you’ve chosen, Dainsfield.”
“I don’t see you rushing to the altar,” Dainsfield said with irritation. “As for Miss Nichols, the matter is not so simple.”
Nomansland adopted an expression of exaggerated sympathy. “Oh? Her preference in husbands unwilling to forgive her recent performance at the operetta? Or her heavy use of her membership here? You know we have very few unmarried young ladies among our members.”
“I can only think of one or two men who might consider her, unless I discretely offer a boon in lieu of a dowry. Her father already has a wedding agreement signed, from what Miss Nichols told me.”
“Then why is she involving you?” Nomansland asked.
“Her father pawned her off on Crampmoore.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Yes. The only way she can escape him is to marry someone else before the ceremony planned next month. Someone who is in a position to ignore all the complications a woman like Miss Nichols brings to the marriage.”
Nomansland mused, “Did I mention that you already are a duke? You have no father making threats about your choice of bride or lack thereof. No need to worry about these… minor details.”
“I will grant you they are insignificant to me. My heir, assuming I have a son with her, might feel differently.”
“Your selflessness is inspiring,” Nomansland said. “However, I should warn you. The lady’s reputation has traveled far beyond London. Your pool of names is likely to be quite small. A puddle.”
Dainsfield nodded. He wasn’t surprised the gossip had spread widely. He could still picture Milly in the theatre box, dress around her waist, Baron Wasing’s eager hands all over her, and he hadn’t been in attendance. The chance to imagine those pale globes of hers would appeal to most men, so the tale gave them permission to dwell on the vision.
“It seems you’re quite concerned.”
Dainsfield pursed his lips. “I’ll find her someone. Perhaps an old man whose fondest memories are too distant to compete with her youthful dalliances.”