Page 19 of The Duke of Diamonds (The Highwaymen #1)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

NOTHSHIRE ARRIVED AT Dunrose’s estate and there was already a note from Champeraigne waiting, indicating that he was settled nearby, only two miles to the west, at an estate rented by the Marquis de Fateux. The marquis himself was not actually there, however. He tended to steer clear of whatever his wife did with other men, not that he could possibly be ignorant of it all, considering the marchioness was very free with herself.

Near as Nothshire understood it, the marquis and his wife had escaped France along with Champeraigne, who was the marchioness’s longstanding lover. When they arrived here, they were penniless, practically paupers, and it was down to the scheming of the marchioness and Champeraigne that they all had any funds at all.

He knew the marchioness siphoned money from her lovers, practically like a courtesan. Champeraigne obviously took his pound of flesh from himself and his friends. He had other ways of getting money, also, seemingly none of them legitimate. If the three of them had any scruples, he supposed it had died in the bloodiness of the Revolution. Fleeing one’s home in fear of one’s life did tend to make a person desperate and willing to do anything, Nothshire supposed.

He and the other dukes were summoned there in the morning, which Nothshire wasn’t looking forward to. He shared the news with the others. Dunrose was nonplussed and Rutchester was in a snit about the state of his bedchamber, having already put the fear of God into Dunrose’s staff. Arthford asked if that meant the marchioness was there, and Nothshire said he didn’t know. He thought about telling Arthford not to go and speak to that woman, but he had no control over whatever Arthford did, not in the end.

And anyway, he had no leg to stand on, because he had already committed himself to the idea that he was going to see Patience.

He went on horseback, too early. He found himself lurking outside the house, looking into windows to see her playing the piano forte for her brother and his guests. He waited until she finally left and then went around the house, trying the doors.

It wasn’t hard, but then it never was, to get into a country estate. There were always a great many doors, more doors than anyone could possibly guard, not even with a large retinue of servants, and these doors never seemed to be locked.

Then, the task became finding his way through the massive estate, which wasn’t as difficult as one might expect, because large portions of it were entirely closed off. All of the bedrooms in an estate like this might only be filled once every three or four years, if a large party were hosted. But usually, most of the rooms were empty and cold.

He moved through those parts of the house until he found the wing that had been opened.

He tried rooms.

None of these were locked either. One thing that was true of men of his class (and women too) was that they were laughably secure in themselves, no real thought to any danger ever befalling them. They assumed they could protect themselves with their wealth and status, and the hell of it was that they were often right.

There was a cluster of rooms at the front of the wing which seemed to all be housing the men downstairs. Then there was a raft of empty rooms.

Finally, at the very end of the hallway, he found her room.

But just as he was trying the door, something moved out of the corner of his eye.

He straightened, turning, and a woman appeared, melting out of the shadows. At first, he thought it might be Patience, but then he immediately realized it was not. This woman was a servant.

Damnation. But he had coin. He’d pay her for her silence, and every servant had a price. He was glad he’d remembered his purse instead of leaving it attached to his horse.

“Don’t even think about it,” hissed the woman.

“I don’t mean the master of this house any harm,” he said to the woman in a soft voice. “I’m sure we can come to some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement if we talk. Perhaps in one of these rooms?” He gestured at one of the doors behind him.

The woman sniffed, haughty, and marched into the room.

He followed her and shut the door.

“What you don’t seem to understand is how innocent she is,” said the woman.

He turned away from the door. What were they talking about?

“She has been through things, bad things, things a woman shouldn’t have to endure, and they have given her the semblance of wisdom, but she has no true understanding of the way the world works. Deep inside, she is practically a starry-eyed girl, and she knows that you are not a good man, but she can’t help but hope otherwise. I would beg you, leave her alone. There must be someone else you can ply your wiles upon, Your Grace.”

He swallowed. “You must be the viscountess’s maid,” he said, putting things together. “Is that right?”

She nodded. It was dark in the room. He could barely make out her features, but he could see her form well enough.

“So, she’s told you everything, in that way that women tell everything to their maids,” he muttered. “Why do women do that?”

“Stop telling her you want to marry her if you don’t,” said the maid.

“I do want to marry her,” he protested. “She’s the one who keeps saying—”

“You do not behave like a man who is trying to marry a woman.”

“No?” he said. “Why not?”

“Because you have bedded her, obviously.”

He blinked at the maid. “You do know what people do when they’re married, I assume.”

“Oh, please,” she said.

“I’m only saying, I don’t see how wanting a person in that way precludes marriage.”

“You wish to marry her? You swear it to me?”

“ She doesn’t want to marry me .”

“Well, you have to change her mind,” said the maid. “And you can’t make her think that there’s some foolproof way not to put a child in her, any way besides abstaining, which you don’t seem capable of doing.”

This was… mortifying. “She really told you everything ,” he said, shaking his head. “I suppose you got some detailed description of my prick while you were at it.”

“No!” said the maid.

“Well, thank heaven for small favors,” he said sarcastically. “But I’m at a bit of a disadvantage, because she never speaks of you at all.”

The maid let out a soft, sad laugh. “Well, I suppose she wouldn’t.”

“Yes, here you are, so righteous, doing everything in your power to save her, and she likely wouldn’t thank you for it.”

The maid folded her arms over her chest.

“But,” he said, thinking it through, “this isn’t the worst thing, I suppose, because you are loyal to her, so you won’t say anything about my being here. You wouldn’t damage her reputation in that way. I suppose I should be thankful for that.” He blew out a huff of air. “I can pay you anyway. I don’t mind if you’d like a little extra to keep quiet.”

“I am not extorting you, Your Grace!” she protested, very offended.

He dragged a hand over his face. He wanted this terribly embarrassing interaction to end. How did he get out of it?

“Why did you tell her to come here?” said the maid. “What are you involving her in?”

“Oh, no,” he said. “That is not something I am going to speak about.”

“Something very bad, then,” she said. “She says you would not be a good man to be married to. Is that true?”

He sighed heavily.

“You are taking advantage of her, and she is more innocent than you seem to understand.”

“I…” His shoulders slumped. “I know that.” He did. He hadn’t thought of himself in that way, a corrupting influence on her, a wolf preying on her, little lamb of a girl. But it was all rather true, wasn’t it? She had these ideas, things she thought she could get by with, things that would never work in the real world, and he knew it.

But it was all very strange, because she still wasn’t the way he thought of women of her class, not in that same way. She wasn’t fragile or breakable or cold. She was real and flesh and blood and good and she…

“If you know that, why?” said the maid. “Why do this to her? Do you get a charge out of soiling pure things?”

Was that what he was doing to her?

“I am sorry,” said the maid. “I am an idiot, same as her, I think. The problem is, I love her. I have never felt this way with a lady I served, but no lady I ever worked for has treated me the way she treats me, with respect. She is like my friend. I know we are not truly friends. I am not as innocent as she is, you see. But I feel that there is no one protecting her, no one at all—”

“I have protected her,” he said. “Did you do anything about that husband of hers, the one who hit her?”

“I didn’t know her then,” said the maid. “But I don’t think you did that because you wished to protect her. I think you simply wanted to take her from him. You got him out of the way so that you could sail in and… why won’t you marry her?”

“I will marry her,” he growled.

The maid regarded him. A long moment passed. Finally, she said, “If you don’t, I know all about you, Your Grace. I know all manner of things about you. Not anything about your prick, I suppose, but things you don’t want known. And I think you’ll find that I can easily spread it all about town, through a network of servants, that you regularly rob people on the highway. So, if you don’t marry her—”

“How am I supposed to force her to marry me when she doesn’t wish to marry me?”

“You’re a man. You’re a duke. There are any number of ways.”

“Yes, but I’m not that sort of man, and I’m not that sort of duke.”

She scoffed. “Oh, you are such a paragon.”

“I can’t do that to her, not if she doesn’t wish it.” He sighed.

“You have done all manner of other things to her.”

“She wanted those things,” he said. “It’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” He was firm. “It matters if a person consents to something, even if they are determined against their own good. Forcing a person to do anything, even for good reasons—”

“You steal from people!”

“As if it harms them!” he said. “They have enough to spare.”

“You kill people.”

“Not unless they need killing,” he said.

“Oh,” she said with a caustic laugh. “And you can determine such a thing?”

He sighed. “I don’t know, I suppose. Perhaps not, in the end. Perhaps not.” He stared through the darkness at her. “What is your name?” He might not recognize her in the light. He must have her name.

“Charlotte,” she said.

“Charlotte,” he said. “You’re very brave and you’re a very good maid to your mistress. But I should caution you that it’s not wise to go around threatening men who you know have no qualms about killing people.”

She went entirely still.

He turned and yanked the door open and went into the hallway.

From within the room, Charlotte let out a whimper.

He stood in the hall, debating what he should do. He’d come to see Patience, but he felt as if all of it was strangely tainted now. He could simply leave.

If he did that, the maid would report this entire conversation to Patience. She might turn against him. For her own good, she probably should turn against him.

But between the two of them, they both knew his secrets, and he likely couldn’t afford that. It wasn’t only about him, that was the real sticking point. If it were, perhaps he’d offer himself up sacrificially.

But it was the others. Dunrose, Arthford, and Rutchester, they were closer to him than brothers. They all protected each other, and he was loyal to them first and foremost.

He swerved and went to Patience’s door. He turned the knob.

PATIENCE HAD GOTTEN into bed, but she wasn’t asleep. She was up with a candle and a book, though she wasn’t reading the book. She had thought she’d heard something in the hallway, thought it was him, coming to her, as he’d said he would.

But then, the noise stopped.

She had gotten out of bed and opened the door but she hadn’t seen anyone in the hallway. Now, she was trying to convince herself to extinguish the candle and sleep.

The door opened.

She sat straight up.

He stepped inside. His head was down and his shoulders were stiff. He shut the door firmly and he stalked across the room toward her bed.

She shrank from him, something instinctive going through her, because she could see that something was wrong. If she had been a different sort of person, she might have asked if he was all right, but she had been trained, in her time with Balley, to get small and quiet and pliant when a man was upset, so she didn’t say anything.

He stopped at the foot of her bed and she fought the urge to tremble. Showing fear had sometimes made Balley worse.

He furrowed his brow. She could see his expression now that he’d come close enough to be illuminated by her lit candle. “My lady? Are you all right?”

She nodded, forcing herself to smile. “Quite all right, Your Grace.” Her voice was too high-pitched, though. It gave her away.

Which made her realize, somehow, that he wasn’t Balley, and that her learned behavior might not be the right way to handle this situation. She let out a long, noisy breath. “You’re not all right,” she said.

He sighed, sitting down on her bed, on the foot of it. “I just met your maid.”

“Charlotte?”

He hesitated, as if he was searching for the right words. “I know it is some female imperative to tell everything to some trusted other female confidante, and I know it is seemingly impossible for women to overcome this tendency, but I have to ask you if you could possibly tell her, at least, less .”

“Oh,” she said, cringing. “My apologies. I trust Charlotte implicitly. She knows all my secrets, and she would never tell anyone—”

“Well, she has just threatened to do exactly that, if I don’t marry you,” he said.

“What?” Patience hopped out of the bed and rushed across the room to open the door. “Charlotte,” she called into the darkened hallway.

Nothshire was there, stopping her, shutting the door. “No, no, don’t do that.”

She looked up at him. “She won’t say anything.”

“I think she’s right,” he said. “I think we should marry.”

She backed away from him, shaking her head, shaking her whole body. “No.”

He sighed.

She folded her arms over her chest. “She said that I could be with child, even if you did not spend inside me. Is that true?”

He spread his hands. “It’s unlikely. It’s unlikely enough that I considered it a negligible risk.”

“But you didn’t share that with me. You don’t share anything with me, in fact. It seems to me that you just use me. You order me about, tell me to come here—”

“You agreed,” he said.

“Yes, but only because I’m stupid when it comes to you.”

“All right, yes, we are both stupid when it comes to the other.”

“Why should I marry you? Why should I trust you? Tell me why you wished me to be here, and I shall consider it.”

He hesitated again. “I don’t entirely know, to be truthful. There is someone who I am meeting with on the morrow, someone who will provide more information.”

“You simply do the bidding of this someone?”

He hesitated again.

“You see? I cannot trust you to tell me anything at all.”

“I have to do the bidding of this person,” he said. “Because this person knows information about me that I don’t want known. Something that I did, in the past, when I was very young.”

She considered this. “So, you’re quite used to people blackmailing you, then. That’s why you came to me with the offer to do me favors for my silence. It’s a way of life for you.”

He sighed again. “I suppose.”

“What did you do?”

He groaned.

“How badly do you want me to agree to marry you?”

“You definitely won’t marry me if I tell you that,” he said.

“Well, that’s a rousing endorsement.” She threw up her hands. She turned to look at her bed, at the crumpled bed covers. “You came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to convince me to marry you, I don’t think.”

“No,” he agreed.

“It was, in fact, to fuck me.”

“Must you say that word?”

“As it happens, I have been waiting rather breathlessly for you to do it again,” she said. “Let’s leave off this conversation, then, and do what we both want.”

He eyed her. “You… you… damnation.”

She gathered up handfuls of her nightdress. “Perhaps if I remove this, that will entice you?”

“I’m plenty enticed,” he said. “I’m surprised you’re so easily diverted from the conversation we were having, however.”

“So am I,” she said, feeling helpless. She slowly lifted the skirts of her nightdress. “I had not thought I even really liked the act, to be honest. I thought it was awful, just awful. But you’re different.”

“ You’re different,” he countered, coming closer to her.

She yanked her nightdress off in one fluid movement.

He caught her about the waist with one hand and tugged her against his chest.

They were kissing.

She twined her arms around his neck, feeling the bright sensation that was his tongue on hers explode through her. Everything about this man made her feel mad and out of control. It was bad. She knew it was bad, but on some level, it didn’t matter.

On some level, actually, she wanted to trust him. On some level, maybe she even did. Her body trusted him, she thought, though her mind didn’t. It didn’t make sense to trust him, but it felt right.

His hands roamed over her bare skin—because she hadn’t been wearing anything under her nightdress and she was entirely nude now—gentle but somehow desperate at the same time. He breathed in her ear, “I have been dreaming about having you close to me, dreaming about having my hands on you again. You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft.”

She reached down and took his hand. She tugged him toward the bed.

“I can’t even think,” he said, letting her pull him to the bed, his other hand going to rip his cravat free. “I shouldn’t be thinking about you at all. There are so many other things to think about, and you’re all I think about.”

“Yes,” she said. “For me as well.” She turned in his arms and started to unbutton his jacket.

He helped her. “You should understand… I could be a good husband to you. I am certain of it. I would worship you. We’d be happy.”

“I know that,” she said. His jacket was unbuttoned now, and she shoved it off his shoulders. “It’s not about that.”

He shrugged out of the jacket entirely. He started on his waistcoat. “I know there are things about me, dark things, but I could shield you from that. I could keep you out of it—”

“You haven’t thus far,” she said, hands under his waistcoat, exploring his chest, feeling the firmness of him under his shirt.

“It would be different,” he said.

“You said before you didn’t even wish to marry me.”

“I think I didn’t like the idea of marriage in general because I didn’t understand that women could be like you,” he said. “But you’re… may I call you Patience?”

She sighed, shutting her eyes. “Yes, please.”

“Patience, you are like a goddess .”

“I am not.” She liked his saying it. She felt shy and happy.

He bent down and captured one of her nipples with his mouth.

She gasped.

He picked her up, pulled her into his arms, and climbed onto the bed. “You are, I think. Or else, it’s some kind of enchantment.”

She giggled, running her hand over his shoulders. “Yes, yes. It’s like a magic spell in some story. When do I change you from a beast to a man?”

“I’m not a beast.” He kissed her. He pulled back, looking down at her. “Maybe I am. You deserve better than a man like me, no question, but I can’t… I need…”

“No, I’m yours,” she said, sighing, writhing against him. “That’s true, even if I’m not your wife.”

He groaned, kissing her again, hard. He reached back with one hand, behind his head, and pulled his shirt off with one hand, and he took his unbuttoned waistcoat along with it. “I’m always wearing far too many clothes when I’m with you.”

“Agreed,” she groaned, hands on his bare skin now.

“And I’m always like this, half in a frenzy, and I want to take my time with you. I want to touch you and taste you—”

“Taste?” she whispered, intrigued.

He grinned at her, a rakish sort of grin. He scooted down and he put his mouth on her there .

She let out a little cry of shock. “What are you doing?”

He laughed, and she liked the way his laughter felt against her there.

She moaned. “That seems filthy .”

“Mmm,” he agreed. “Well,” he breathed into her sex, “I’m a filthy beast, and you’ll simply have to endure that, my lady.”

“Patience,” she said.

“Patience,” he agreed.

“And you are… Benedict, yes?”

He moaned into her. “Oh, yes,” he said and then he licked her, one long delightful lick, in the most sensitive and wondrous of places, and she lost herself.

Well, for a time, she lost herself, because it was very, very nice, and she liked it quite a great deal, but then she began to think that he must not like it. How could a person like doing that? It couldn’t taste good, not at all, and that part of her was getting the way it did, all slippery with her body’s juices, which she thought smelled strange and must taste very strange, too, and she must have tensed, because he spread her legs out and breathed that she must relax, relax, take whatever filthy thing her beastman wished to do to her, and those words sent her soaring into another stratosphere.

She was lost again.

For a time, but then she started to think that he’d been doing this forever , and he probably wished she’d just have a climax already, mustn’t he? She needed to concentrate, to make that happen, so that he could stop, because even if he did like it (he couldn’t) then it must still be tiring, moving his tongue like that, again and again.

But the more she concentrated, the more it seemed as if her pleasure eluded her, and she began to realize that she couldn’t quite have a climax if she was thinking about having a climax.

She needed to stop thinking about a climax, think about something else .

No, not whatever it was that was so awful he’d done in his past that would mean she’d never agreed to marry him, definitely not that.

Dash it all.

“Just—”

“Hmm?” he said, his voice lazy, as if he was actually enjoying himself, rather a lot.

But no, she needed this over, it was too much pressure, all of the attention on her. “Your prick. I want it.”

“Oh,” he said, pleased by that. He kissed her sex, then planted a kiss on each of her inner thighs, and then he climbed up over her. He was somehow not wearing his trousers. How had he shed them? She must have been too distracted to notice.

She seized his hardness and squeezed it and he made a noise in the back of his throat, a very pleased noise, and she stroked him like she had before.

He simply surrendered to her, on his knees between her spread thighs, shutting his eyes, taking her ministrations as if it were his due.

Her hand paused for a moment as she thought that through. Why did she assume she was a bother to him, that her pleasure was a bother to him? What if it wasn’t? She gasped a little, tears coming to her eyes unbidden, as she began to stroke him with increased fervor.

“I… last time, I…”

“Yes?” Still that lazy voice.

She lifted her hips and moved his prick, doing the thing she’d done before, rubbing his hardness against her sensitive nub. “Do you like this?” she whispered.

“Quite a great deal,” he said.

“So do I,” she breathed, and then she shut her eyes and let herself get lost, let herself take her pleasure as her due. And because she must have actually been very close to a climax before, after all the… oh, Lord, the licking , she climbed to a high point quite quickly and found herself breaking through, as if through the cover of clouds on a high mountain, into bursts of bright, bright sun. She whimpered his name as her pleasure twitched through her, her grasp on his member going loose.

And he, even as she was still riding the end of her climax, angled his hips and speared her, deep inside.

She cried out.

“Shh,” he said, covering her mouth with his own, moving inside her with his huge, intruding, perfect prick. “We need to do this at some point where we don’t have to worry about discovery.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Oh, yes, we do.”

“It’s another good reason to marry me, Patience,” he said, thrusting into her.

Damn him, he was right.

“Maybe,” she said, clutching his shoulders.

“Maybe?” He was smiling.

She took his face in both of her hands and kissed him again.

He broke the kiss and looked at her.

Oh, this again, looking into each other’s eyes like this, this was going to make her fall apart. Why was it so lovely, having him all the way deep inside her at the same time as she gazed into his eyes? Why was it like being lost and found again, like being herself and no one and part of some new thing—some her-and-him thing—all at once?

She loved him.

As if he read her mind, he said it. “I love you,” he breathed. “God in heaven, I love you.”

She gasped and said it back, her voice cracking. “Yes, I love you, too. Benedict, I love you.”

And then they were kissing frantically, and his movements inside her had gone out of rhythm, and she was wrapped up in some kind of perfect warm blanket of utter goodness, and she felt as if the goodness was so good, it was seeping out of her, out of her fingertips and her toes and she had never been this happy in her life .

He tipped back his head and let out a noise, and then he swore, a string of awful swear words, before he dug his fingers into her hips, holding her in place and—

Spent inside her body.