Page 4 of The Duke and the Widow
His responsibilities kept him from attending many events, and he had grown accustomed to being at home with his younger brothers. Since their parents had passed, he was all they had. They were a small, unconventional family, but they had made things work. He was as much a father to them as he was a brother, and he always had to set the example they needed.
With his brothers at Eton until the holiday break, he had the chance to do something for himself. Both of his parents had passed away by the time he was of the legal age of one-and-twenty, but his father needed constant care for almost two years prior to that. He’d had to take up the responsibilities of the dukedom while his father was confined to his bed, while also overseeing the care of his parents and his little twin brothers. The boys were but eight years old when their mother died, and then were the age of ten by the time the duke had succumbed to his injuries.
The day his father died, James couldn’t decide if he should weep or be glad for the man. His father had missed their mother daily for the last two years and frequently called out to her in his sleep when the medications made his mind foggy. There were several times when James had to remind his father of the events that had claimed her life and watch as his father’s heart broke all over again.
James wasn’t certain he wished to encounter such heartbreak, thus he had decided he may never wed. Or if he did, it would be many years away and only to produce the expected heir. But perhaps if one of his brothers wed one day and had children, the title would just pass to one of them. He had years before he would even have to make such a decision because he would never wed while his brothers were still in his care. They needed him. They needed his full attention, and he couldn’t introduce someone who might disrupt the peace they had finally found with just the three of them.
But with the boys at Eton, James might ease the tension that had been growing within him for some time. He was still a man, after all, and he had constant urges to sate his needs and finally bed a woman. His few friends from his school days would have a hearty laugh at his expense if they knew the Duke of St. Albans was an untouched virgin. They’d probably insist he go with them immediately to the nearest brothel and take care of matters then and there.
He always listened to the stories of their conquests and laughed and taunted when the other men did, then groaned internally, knowing that his own fist around his cock was the only attention he would receive.
James had been tempted several times to venture to a brothel as he knew his friends would encourage him to do so, but he always considered the example he wished to set for his brothers. Maintaining the image of the perfect gentleman for the sake of the boys constantly nagged at him.
Although the urges to partake in the appetites of the flesh had grown stronger. James had been on the cusp of caving and attending a brothel a few towns over until one of his friends mentioned the beautiful widow who didn’t wish to wed. As luck would have it, he found himself invited to a house party where she would be in attendance, and the opportunity seemed too perfect to pass up.
He could appear in society without the need to bore himself with London ballrooms and eager debutantes, and if all went as planned, he’d spend his nights warming a certain lady’s bed and curbing desires that his hand barely satisfied any longer.
She might even be open to an ongoing arrangement with the required discretion if all went well.
When he finally met her, beautiful didn’t seem to be a strong enough word. She was radiant, alluring, tempting, and any other adjective that a poet might come up with to describe such a lovely woman. Her blond hair was almost golden in the low lighting, and a couple of stray curls perfectly framed her heart-shaped face.
Catching her gaze for the first time, she had eyes that looked almost like perfect emeralds, beautiful and tinted with a hint of mischief. His cock fought against the hold of his breeches when she smirked at him. She had already tempted him more than he could have imagined, and he knew he must figure out what she needed to entertain an arrangement with him.
He would do anything just short of scandal or marriage. Some might believe bedding her at all would be scandalous, but with him as a duke and her as a willing widow, they would be afforded the courtesy of most turning a blind eye, so long as they did nothing too obvious.
When she gripped his arm, the touch—even through his clothing—sent electricity running through him that did nothing to ease the ache he already had. It was to his benefit that he would be seated for a while as he’d need the meal to get his wits about him.
He seated her in her place. “I look forward to speaking with you again,” he said, then leaned closer to her, “minx.” She smelled like lilies, and the scent intoxicated his senses.
“You as well, Duke,” she said, winking at him. It wasn’t the proper way to address him, but he liked the way her lips formed the word and tried not to imagine the other ways he might view her lips.
He took his seat a few chairs down and across the table from her, pleased with himself. For a man with so little experience with women, it would seem he may just have a chance of winning over one of the most desired women of the ton. He only hoped he might earn an invitation to her chamber soon and not waste a single night of the time they could enjoy together.
The next morning, he set out to claim his prize, even more eager to do so than when he had first arrived. The previous evening hadn’t moved things along as quickly as he had hoped. After dinner, he hadn’t been able to get her alone. He’d been limited to glances from across the room, which didn’t give him enough to know if she would be agreeable to him appearing in her chamber after everyone settled into their beds, or whoever’s beds they intended to warm.
Frustrated by the anticipation, he took himself in hand before he attempted to sleep, hoping it might ease the tension that plagued his body. If nothing else, it aided in his ability to get a good night’s rest. He woke up that morning ready to do what it took to gain a private audience with Lady Preston.
On the walk to the breakfast room, James wondered how his brothers fared away at Eton. Once they had turned twelve, it had been time for them to attend school. Anxious thoughts consumed him since he had been away from them and how they would do without him. At least they had each other. Their instructors were to inform him immediately if anything was amiss, but he hadn’t heard a word. His staff would ensure correspondence reached him at the Ockhams’, but he couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing. And hopefully they were behaving themselves.
When he reached where the other guests had gathered to break their fast, he was sorely disappointed to find that Lady Preston had no open seats around her. He internally groaned and went to the sideboard to make his plate before settling into a chair at the other end of the table near their hosts.
He speared a piece of fruit and smoothed his chewing when he realized he was scowling far too much and didn’t wish for anyone to ask him about his mood.
“I hope you are enjoying your time with us so far, Your Grace,” Lady Ockham said, capturing his attention from staring at his plate.
“Very much so,” he replied. It wasn’t completely a lie. He intended to enjoy his time very much, so things could only start looking up from there, right?
“I hope you will join the Pall Mall game after breakfast,” she continued. “I am sure the young ladies in attendance would enjoy the opportunity to partner with a duke.”
He eyed her curiously. “Pall Mall is an individual game, is it not?”
Mirth flooded her ladyship’s expression. “I have changed things a bit. We will have partners, with the pair sharing a mallet and ball, thus alternating swings when it is their turn.”
Matchmaking attempts at its finest, from what he could tell. House parties were notorious for garnering a few proposals. Marriage was too rich for his blood, but he wouldn’t mind a bit of help in his private matchmaking endeavor, of sorts.
“You can count me in as one of your willing players,” he replied. If he could ensure he partnered with Lady Preston, he could spend the game at her side and determine her requirements.
His hostess grinned at him and then her husband escorted her away from the table, and she started encouraging guests to meet on the lawn after they finished. He ate the rest of his meal in silence, thinking about what he might say to the beautiful widow.
