Inevitably a Duchess Page 4

  “Richard, I am not as delicate as you presume me to be. I will not break in a stiff breeze. It will take a good deal more than that, I’m afraid. And really, right now, it is not the point.”

  His mind wandered back to his recent conversation with his sons and wondered for a moment if Jane was treating him like a little boy. He would not have put it past her. But for a moment, he let her words sink in. They contradicted everything he felt about Jane, everything he had seen about her. Her words left him largely unsettled, but at the moment, many of her words were unsettling him.

  “Very well. What is the point then?”

  “The point is I think you need to watch Lady Straughton.” Jane paused and lowered her eyes once more. A trickle of dread licked at the nape of his neck. “And then perhaps you’ll find out the identity of the man that met her at the coffee house. At least something other than his name, which may or may not be Morris. The source of that tidbit was rather young, so I’m reserving judgement on her information.”

  Richard felt a growl in his throat that he would not let be realized even though he very much wanted to see it formulate.

  “A gentleman called Morris met Lady Straughton at a coffee house. A coffee house where you observed said meeting while doing so unchaperoned?”

  Jane blinked.

  “Really, Richard, I am widow. What need have I for a chaperone? And I didn’t say he was a gentleman.”

  Now Richard growled, and he enjoyed the sensation very much.

  “Stop being so childish,” she said and pulled herself from his grasp.

  “Not a gentleman then?”

  Jane shook her head and described to him what sounded like one of those middle class men, perhaps a lineage of wealth but no real wealth themselves. A doctor maybe or a solicitor.

  “Tall, you say?” Richard asked.

  Jane nodded as she warmed her hands in front of the fire.

  “Yes, very. Taller than you I would say.”

  “Did he look dangerous?”

  Jane looked at him, her eyes searching.

  “You look dangerous just now, Your Grace, so I do not feel that an accurate question.”

  Richard frowned.

  “Now you look even more dangerous.” She turned to face him fully. “What do you plan to do about this, Richard? There’s obviously something afoot with Lady Straughton.”

  Richard looked down at Jane, watching the light play across the swooping line of her nose and the angular cut of her cheekbones. Her eyes were cast in shadow by the slanting light, but her lips remained full and splendidly red. He bent his head, laying his own lips on them gently, tasting for just the barest of moments before pulling back.

  “I plan to do what is always best in this situation,” he said, taking a hold of her arm and leading her to the door. “We shall sleep on it.”

  “We, Your Grace?” Jane asked, her voice rather concerned.

  He smiled down at her wickedly.

  “Indeed,” he said.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jane could be very distracting when she was naked.

  Richard didn’t think she did it on purpose. At least, she wasn’t doing it on purpose right then as she lay in his arms, the slightest sheen of sweat covering the delicate curve of her shoulder, the candlelight radiating over her smooth skin and giving an almost ethereal edge to her satiated glow. Right then, he thought she was simply exhausted from the hours of lovemaking, and it was most likely easier for her to simply lie there naked than attempt to cover herself up.

  This was a curious thing in their relationship. While Richard felt an almost instinctual need to protect Jane against everything else in the world, when it came to their lovemaking, it seemed like the most natural thing to occur. He had never hesitated from the moment Jane had first come to him. While he had seen how fragile she was then, he had never felt the need to restrain himself.

  And now he traced the curve that tantalized him with a single fingertip, moving it slowly across her skin until she shivered.

  “Stop it,” he heard her mumble, her face buried in his chest, “I couldn’t possibly have pleasure again.”

  Richard smiled.

  “You’d best be careful with such challenging statements as that. I believe I already proved you wrong on that point several hours ago.”

  He felt her stir, moving against him, until her head popped up into his line of sight. Her raven hair was mussed about her head, and her skin was flush with exertion. But her eyes sparkled in the dim light of his bedchamber, and in them, he saw everything.

  He saw Jane. He saw the woman, hiding so far deep inside the shell she had erected around her vulnerable body that he doubted she even knew that Jane was still in there. And in seeing her, he remembered she would be gone at dawn, and the Jane that society now knew would return. Only her words from earlier that evening niggled at his conscience. What had she meant when she said she wouldn’t break?

  No matter what Richard would still love her. Yet there was nothing he could do to protect her. To save her beyond simply giving her his love. But what if she saved herself?

  “If you dare to challenge that statement again, I shall have to seek recourse.”

  Richard raised an eyebrow.

  “And what recourse would that be, my lady?”

  She smiled wickedly at him, her lashes fluttering, and it was one of those rare moments when Richard saw nothing but a beautiful, naked woman before him. He forgot all else. He forgot Jonathan Haven and the terrible things he had done to her. He forget all the times she had cried out in her sleep, startled from some nightmare. He forgot all of it, and only saw Jane, this beautiful creature that he loved.

  “A lady never tells,” she said before she kissed him.

  He had meant to leave it at that. He had already pushed her to her limits he was sure. He needed to be gentle with her, caring and concerned. But when she touched him, it set off a spark that soon turned into an inferno inside of him, and he could no longer control himself even if he wished to. He rolled, tucking her beneath him as he devoured her mouth. No matter how many times he kissed her, he never quite got used to her taste. She was elusive and mysterious just as she was familiar and safe. She was thoroughly Jane, and the sensations she fueled in him propelled him forward like a starving man toward a banquet.

  Her arms came around his neck, pulling him closer to her as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. A thrill shot through him, white hot and piercing, and he rolled again, pulling her atop of him. She straddled him and without invitation, she came down on top of him, his throbbing erection sliding perfectly inside of her tight, hot sheath. Indescribable sensation rocketed through him, and he held on with all that he had. But then she began to move.

  If this was the recourse she had told him she would seek, he would do well to remember that crossing her in the future would lead to unimaginable exhilaration. But for now, he gripped her hips in his hands as she moved against him, sliding away as far as as she could before plunging down on top of him. He felt her body moving against him, taking him to her very core before moving away so far he feared she would leave him completely. The physical came no where near the emotional until finally he could resist her no more. But it appeared she had nothing left either, and her cadence picked up, driving down on top of him with abandon. When she threw back her head with a guttural scream, her hair flowing down her back in an endless raven wave, he was lost.

  The climax hit him hard, and he bucked up, sitting until his arms came around her, pulling her into him as he lost all sense of time and space. When next he opened his eyes, she lay across his chest, while his head remained awkwardly bent against the headboard of the bed. He didn’t mind though, and his eyes quietly drifted shut as Jane’s steady breathing brushed against his neck.

  When next he awoke, the first slivers of dawn were making their way through the window curtains, and the fire had lost its edge from hours before. Jane lay tucked against him, her breathing even and calm as he held her against
him. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, listening to her just breathe, but he knew he should wake her. It would not do for all of society to see Lady Haven slinking from Lofton House at the unearthly hour of dawn. He knew she did not care for her reputation, but he most certainly did. And he would not have her branded a harlot.

  He woke her with a kiss on her shoulder, soft and gentle, and she stirred just as gently, her lashes fluttering once, twice before fully opening and seeing him. His heart wrenched every time Jane awoke in his arms. Her unearthly beauty striking him as her innocence undid him.

  “Good morning,” he whispered, regretting with everything in him the goodbye that was swiftly approaching.

  “Good morning,” she nearly purred, snuggling into him with greater force. “Is this how all spies unravel mysteries?”

  He laughed softly, enjoying the feel of Jane’s arms worming their way around him, pulling him closer to her.

  “Only the very best,” he said.

  More moments passed as they held each other, and the light of dawn made its threatening way deeper into the room.

  “Jane,” he said, but she grumbled before he could finish.

  “I know, I know. It’s time for me to go.”

  She looked up at him then, her brown eyes fully open and watching, but watching for what he could not be certain. He only returned her gaze, hoping that in it, he would find the Jane he first saw so many years ago. The Jane that had existed before Jonathan Haven had gotten to her.

  And that was when Jane looked away from him, sitting up as her arms moved to cover her breasts, her feet swinging off the bed. She had snatched up her chemise from where it had fallen to the floor before he could say anything.

  “Jane,” he said getting up, hating that the moment had slipped from him, “I shall drive you home.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Jane said, quickly slipping into her stays and petticoats. “I’ll be fine in the carriage, and I’ll slip into my townhouse without anyone noticing but me and Daniel,” she finished, referring to her loyal driver, who had been summoned the night before and on many a morning returned his mistress to her home in the muted light of the predawn with nary a word escaping his lips in confession.

  Richard stopped, his hands on the fastenings of his trousers. He watched Jane finish arranging her skirts over her petticoats, marveling at the banality of it. She had done the same thing nearly every dawn since her husband died nearly a year before. She may have still been a widow in mourning according to society’s standards, but in Jane’s mind, he knew she had been free the moment the bastard had taken his last breath. He knew that, deep down. He knew that she thought herself free, and yet, he could still not come to terms with it. He still felt the unending need to protect her.

  But Richard was still surprised when she came to him, had come to him that first night. The rain had been coming down in impenetrable sheets. He had been in his study, a single lamp lit, and with the help of the fire, he had been reading. The boys had been tucked into bed hours earlier, and it was just him in the solitude of the house until the banging had erupted at his front door, and Jane had spilled in. She had been soaked and hysterical. Words had poured from her mouth even as tears sprang from her eyes. She had been so wet, Richard couldn’t tell right away what was happening until a single sentence clicked into his brain, and he knew.

  Jonathan was dead.

  Lord Jonathan Haven, the Earl of Winton, had finally had the decency to die leaving behind a brutally scarred widow that had run to Richard when he had thought it impossible. And it was in that moment that he knew Jane could be saved. But while he knew it, every time he saw her, he couldn’t remember it. It was as if upon seeing her, all Richard could imagine was the million different ways she could be hurt again, had been hurt and waited for her to be hurt again by something he could not see coming.

  “Richard, you’re lost in your thoughts again,” he heard Jane’s voice, but he couldn’t look away from the way her hands moved along the buttons of her caraco.

  “Jonathan’s been gone for a year,” he said before he realized it was what he was thinking.

  Jane’s hands stopped on the buttons, the slightest of trembles passing through her arms. He went to her and drew her against him, his arms folding about her as gently as he could manage.

  “I’m sorry, Jane. I don’t know why I said that.”

  Jane was unmoving in his arms, but she said, “Probably because it’s true.”

  He felt her small hands come to rest along his back, but they did not pull him closer. He scolded himself for his careless words and drew back far enough to see her face.

  “I’m really sorry, Jane-“

  She placed a finger along his lips, stopping his words.

  “You can’t keep apologizing for me,” she whispered, but her eyes spoke loudly of the things she could not.

  Of the fear that he knew never really left her. Of the nightmares that always seemed to plague. Of that moment when she first awoke, and the days before were but a blank slate until realization set in. But in that first moment, Richard always watched her. He watched her and waited to see that moment when her breathing would relax, and she would realize she was safe. That moment came quicker these days, but in the first months following Jonathan’s death, the moment had gone on exceedingly long. And in its length, Richard discovered fear for the first time. Fear that Jane would always carry the weight of her husband’s brutality.

  But months had passed, and Richard hoped that time had done what it was supposed to. He drew back, tilting Jane’s face up to his.

  “Marry me,” he said without preamble, without waiting to register the look on Jane’s face.

  The light of dawn seeping through the curtains warmed her skin to a honey glow, and her waves of raven hair framed her face. He reached his hands up, cupping her cheeks and drawing her face up for a kiss.

  “Marry me,” he said again when still she did not speak, and again, he felt that unfamiliar pinch of fear. It was coming too much and too often these days, and he worried that one day, it would come and stay. And he knew that day would be when he would admit defeat. Jane would be lost to him.

  Jane’s hands tentatively gripped his wrists as she drew her face away from his kiss.

  “May I think about it?” she said, and he saw in her eyes the slightest of hesitations.

  But she was not afraid. He saw no fear in the set of her shoulders, the expression on her features. He felt something inside of him let go, ease out of the strained position it felt itself in. And he dared to hope.

  “Of course, you can think on it, Jane,” he said, allowing his hands to drop from her face to take her hands in his. “Take as much time as you need.”

  Although he didn’t truly feel those last words, he did feel that he should say them. He didn’t want her to feel any sort of pressure from his proposal. He didn’t want her to feel she needed to make a decision and upon making a forced decision, to have made a poor one.

  This decision would not be about financial security or position for Jane. While her husband had been a terrible man, Jane’s father had not been. He had made certain that while Jane came with a dowry, a certain portion could only be accessed by her. She had plenty of funds to support her for the rest of her life if she chose to remain unwed. And Richard enjoyed knowing that. He wanted to make sure Jane came to him for pure reasons. Reasons that did not involve seeking a sense of monetary safety.

  He wanted Jane to accept him because she loved him.

  The idea sounded ludicrous in an age when arranged marriages thrived on appropriate matches of wealth and security, but such an arrangement left him feeling empty and hollow. No, if Jane were to accept him, when Jane did accept it, it would be out of love.

  “Thank you, Richard,” she said, a small smile gracing her face, her eyes fluttering down. “I should probably hurry. The light is coming quickly.”

  With her words, the trance was broken, and they were once more standing half dress
ed in Richard’s bedchamber. Not only did Jane have to hurry to avoid detection, the boys would soon be awake, and he did not want them to find Jane in the house. If Nathan already wanted to know the origins of babies, Richard had no inclination to find out what sort of questions Jane’s presence would inspire.

  ~

  When Jane descended the stairs of her townhouse after an appropriate length of time spent bathing and dressing, she was not expecting to find the post already waiting for her at her place at the table in the morning room. There was only a single envelope on the silver server that usually held the post, and the envelope contained nothing but her name and house number on Bridgewater Street. She ignored the letter in favor of the copy of the Times, neatly pressed and lying beside the customary pot of tea.

  She needed a distraction that morning.

  She had expected to engage in espionage on the pervious day as much as she had expected Richard to propose marriage to her that morning. Neither event sat well with her this morning even as Richard’s lovemaking had provided a temporary reprieve. The news of the day was sure to distract her even as her appetite remained noticeably absent. She sipped at her tea and scanned the headlines on the front page.

  The taste of the tea reminded her of Richard’s concern over her adventure to the coffee house the previous evening, which did nothing for the distraction she sought. She honestly hadn’t thought of any danger when she had followed Lady Straughton. It was still daylight, and they were in a fashionable part of town. She was a well-seasoned widow of advanced age, not needing of a chaperone. But while her mind had gone through the rules of society, she did not know enough to follow the rules a spy must when engaging the enemy. She shook her head as if to scold herself for her negligence, but it was not as if she could do anything of it. She hadn’t known then what was required of a spy, and she still didn’t know.