Page 2 of Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Duchess
Kate felt herself warming to the idea that she could spend a night with a rake. It would have to take place in secret. The scandal would destroy her family’s name if anyone discovered she had enjoyed time alone with a rake. Perhaps she should decline Julia’s gift. Would the price be too high?
“How could such a tryst take place? I couldn’t risk my reputation by allowing such a dalliance to become public knowledge.” Kate lowered her voice. “Not that I have prospects, but I have my family to think of.”
Julia leaned forward. “Leave it to me, dear Kate. I shall send him a note in secret. No one will be the wiser. You will have your night of passion. Trust me. A man’s touch is simply wonderful. I find myself growing quite warm at the thought of Harry’s lips upon mine.”
“This is the most outlandish idea,” Kate protested.
Secretly, however, she felt a small thrill of pleasure course through her body as she thought of what it might feel like to have a man touch her. To have his lips trace the curve of herneck down to her bosom. To feel beautiful for one night rather than passed over as a plain wallflower. How many weddings had she stood as a bridesmaid watching her friends marry while she grew another year older?
Kate turned to Julia. “I shall do it. I will spend an evening in the company of a rake.”
The Duke of Devonport dreamt of rosebud pink lips and a laugh that trilled like a songbird until an unwelcome poke dragged him from his delightful slumber.
“Andrew!” His grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Devonport, pushed against his thigh with the tip of her cane. “Get up and send this brazen woman from your bedchamber at once!”
Andrew blinked the sleep from his dark brown eyes and pushed his mop of mahogany brown hair from his brow. His hand brushed the soft flesh of his mistress who still slumbered next to him despite the squawking of his grandmother.
“What is the matter, Grandmother? You woke me from the most delightful dream.” He pushed himself up and met the Dowager’s scowl.
“I want this wanton trollop out of your bed and out of this house at once. Your behavior of late has been simply dreadful.Your poor father would rise from his eternal rest if he knew what depravity you engaged in.” She glowered at the young woman who was now fully awake and clutching the bedsheet to her bosom. “You have five minutes to send her away and come downstairs.”
Andrew yawned. “What is the meaning of all of this, Grandmother?”
“Go and find your cousin, Harry. He requires your assistance with his upcoming nuptials. It would do well for you to listen to him and find your own wife soon.” The dowager cast a scathing look of contempt for the trembling young woman next to her grandson. “Find someone worthy of this family. Someone with honor.”
Andrew bit back a retort. His grandmother was a formidable woman. She had raised him ever since his own mother had abandoned him and his father had died of a broken heart. His grandmother was the one female he trusted in the world. He sighed and grabbed his shirt from where it lay at the end of the bed where he had abandoned it the night before.
The dowager lifted her cane and pointed it at Andrew. “Go help your cousin.” She started to walk away but stopped and turned back. “And Andrew. This time stay out of Miss Roves’ affairs.”
Andrew’s brown eyes glittered dangerously. This time he did not hold back his anger. “I have told you, Grandmother, I had nothing to do with Miss Roves’ broken engagement. Dash it all! My name has been dragged through the pig’s mud with regardto that girl and the Viscount of Pembrooke. She and her ilk are excellent examples of why women are unworthy of trust.”
His mistress, Anna, let out a small squeak of protest, but at a withering glance from his grandmother, she slid beneath the covers. When the dowager turned her steely gaze toward him, for a moment, Andrew wished he could join Anna in her escape. “Andrew, you are the person I hold dearest in my heart, but there are times when you test my patience. It’s time you settled down and quit running through mistresses faster than sand through that hourglass.” She pointed her cane across the room to where a small hourglass sat on a shelf. Then, she turned on her heel and marched out of the room.
From beneath the covers, Anna whispered, “Is she gone?”
Andrew sighed. “For the moment, but there will be no time for morning pleasure. The sun is high in the morning sky, and you must return to your home before thetonbegins to gossip about the lovely widow, Anna, and her midnight trysts with me.”
Anna, the widow of Baron of Rathcliff, had already set the gossips of thetoninto a fury of whispers when she removed her widow’s weeds before the proper mourning period. Andrew had known her husband although he was no friend. The baron had been a rogue with a vile temper who sorely mistreated Anna as well as several maids in his household. Andrew wished he could love her, but they had an understanding that she wished to remain a widow rather than endure another man’s matrimonial bondage and his mistrust of women made it impossible for him to lose his heart to any woman. Instead, they had come to amutual decision to enjoy each other’s company as long as he did not bring dishonor to her name.
Later that morning, after he had sent the Baroness to her home in an unmarked carriage he kept for such occasions when a lady’s honor had to be maintained, he retired to his study to read through his correspondence. Andrew had been distracted as of late by his grandmother’s frequent requests for him to marry and the looks of distaste he received from many within his peerage. He swore he would discover who besmirched his good name with regard to the Viscount of Pembrooke and his engagement to Miss Roves. Andrew knew he was many things, but he would never have misspoken about the Viscount as he knew nothing of his affairs.
He was engrossed in a letter from his uncle who had recently traveled to Paris for business when there was a knock at his door. His butler, Thomas, appeared at the door with an ornate salver holding a missive.
“Pardon me, Your Grace, but a messenger delivered this missive. It bears this address, but it has the name of a Lord Radford written upon it. I tried to stop the boy, but he had already run off.” Thomas appeared distressed by this clear disruption in his tidy schedule for the day.
“Let me see it. Perhaps it is meant for me, but the sender made a mistake when penning the name?” Andrew opened the seal and withdrew a folded letter written in a feminine hand.
My Lord,
I write to you with an earnest request that I pray you won’t deny. I have long wished to know the company of a gentleman, but alas, have never had the opportunity to enjoy such a night of passion. It has come to my attention that you are quite experienced in this area and could ensure discretion. Please attend the masquerade ball at Fincastle this evening. I shall await you in the Lilac Room at midnight.
Yours in anticipation, Miss Katherine Avery.
Andrew slapped the letter down on the desk with such fury that Thomas was startled from his normally complacent stance. “Is everything all right, Your Grace? Do you need me to forward the letter to Lord Radford?”
Andrew’s mind raced.How could such a wallflower as Kate Avery write such a scandalous request? And to a bounder and rake such as Radford. Does she know what she is getting herself into?
Andrew looked at Thomas who stood waiting for his response. “No, Thomas. Thank you. I’ll take care of this matter myself.”
