A Deal with a Duke (The Daring Drake Sisters, #2) Page 4

  “I do not. If a woman is compelled into a marriage without love, then why should she mourn the man for more than a few months? Likewise, if a man loved his wife deeply, why should Society decree only a year of mourning?”

  Except he hadn’t loved his wife. He closed his eyes against the shame flooding him. She had been a good woman. He’d come to care for her, but he’d never been in love with her. His choice was to hide away from the memories of what his father had done to Louisa’s sister and Harry’s wife. Escape the gossip.

  “I believe your mother should have taught you that as an unmarried lady, you must keep your opinions to yourself, Miss Drake. Perhaps if she had, you would not be unmarried at your age.” Lady Gringham pursed her lips in blatant disapproval. “We should retire now. Come along, my lord.”

  Lord Gringham gulped the rest of his brandy and then said, “Goodnight.”

  They started across the room when Lady Gringham stopped and looked back at Louisa. “Miss Drake, you must also retire.”

  “I must?” Louisa said in a surprised voice.

  “You cannot be left alone with His Grace. It is highly improper.”

  Louisa looked askance over at him.

  “Goodnight, Miss Drake,” he said, grateful to not be left alone with her. She would want to talk when he only wished to be left alone.

  “Come along now, Miss Drake,” Lady Gringham said sternly. “Your chaperone is upstairs, so I must see to your reputation.”

  “Goodnight, Your Grace,” Louisa said tightly.

  Harry watched her walk away and sighed. Having her here wreaked havoc on his senses. The sooner she left, the better, before she, or the Gringhams, discovered Charlotte. That would only cause more difficulties.

  Chapter 3

  LOUISA DRESSED THE next morning slowly, hoping by the time she arrived downstairs the Gringhams would have departed. Facing Harry required every ounce of courage with no distractions. Even after days in the coach, she had no idea what she would do if he rejected her request.

  His wife’s death had changed him from the light-hearted rascal she’d known to someone much more solemn. She didn’t know this man, and that frightened her. Before he had married, Harry would have teased Louisa’s plan out of her instead of demanding a reason for her presence.

  She missed that Harry.

  With a breath for courage, she proceeded down the stairs. As she reached the last step, the Gringhams walked out of the salon, followed by Harry. Lady Gringham’s brows furrowed with concern.

  “I am terribly worried about leaving you before your companion is well,” Lady Gringham said, reaching for Louisa’s hands. “Perhaps I should check on her myself.”

  “I just did. Mrs. Fitzpatrick is much recovered today. I’m quite certain she will be able to join us for supper, and by tomorrow we shall continue on to Scotland.”

  Harry’s lips formed a tight line as if he was trying to contain a comment. Louisa wondered what he was bothered about now. Perhaps he was only trying to keep from blurting out that her companion wasn’t real.

  Lady Gringham pulled away with a frown. “Of course, my dear,” she muttered slowly. “Good luck with Lord Ainsley. I do hope he is up to your rather high expectations.”

  Louisa pressed her lips together and gave the woman a brief nod. The nerve of that woman. Was it truly high expectations that she might want a man who would respect her and her opinions? A man who might be companionable? While she’d always thought she wanted love, the reality of her situation had slapped her in the face with Emma’s engagement.

  Twenty-five, unmarried, and no prospects.

  “Safe travels,” Harry said as the couple walked out to the drive. Once the door shut, he turned to Louisa with a deep scowl and added, “You do realize you gave your companion a new name.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It was Mrs. Fitzhugh, not Mrs. Fitzpatrick.”

  “No.” Louisa slapped her hand over her mouth. She could not have made such a blunder. This would only drive Lady Gringham’s suspicion even more.

  This plan was a dreadful notion. If Louisa had only stopped to discuss her scheme with either of her sisters, they would have talked her out of it. But no, she had impetuously run off without thinking something through. It wasn’t like her to act so rashly. She was the one who thought things through, made thorough plans, lists to remember details. But she had done none of that before leaving Tessa’s home.

  “Now that they are on their way, it is time we talked,” Harry commanded as he clasped her elbow and led her toward his study.

  Her courage failed her. “Perhaps I should return to town. Coming here was a mistake.”

  “I am quite certain it was a mistake, but one you have committed to so now you will tell me why you are here.”

  Louisa sat in the brown leather chair across the mahogany desk from him and then sighed. She couldn’t just blurt out her idea. Seeing the look of irritation on his face, she had to say something.

  “Very well,” she started deliberately. “As you know, Tessa is happily married with a child on the way, and Emma is betrothed to Lord Bolton.”

  “Yes, you said as much last night.” His lips turned down. “What does any of this have to do with you being in my home alone?”

  She bit her lip and tried to think about how to broach the subject with him. Seeing how much he’d changed in the past few years, she doubted he would care about her predicament.

  “Louisa?”

  Louisa blinked, then looked away from the image of him leaning back in his seat. Certainly, she had perceived how handsome he was years ago, but since she’d arrived here, she couldn’t seem to stop noticing everything about him. The way his gray waistcoat cut across his broad chest and the lovely way his trousers stretched over his bottom. His strong jaw and the straight line of his nose. And then there was his mouth. How had she never truly looked at his lips before now? Perfectly formed and made for kissing ladies senseless.

  How had she not noticed any of this before now?

  “Louisa?”

  “Oh Harry, I’ve made a real mess of things,” she admitted softly, staring down at her hands.

  “How so?”

  “While there was some talk after Blakely, it died down quickly due to his honorable behavior.” She hesitated to tell him more.

  He tilted his head and stared over at her. “What happened, Louisa?”

  “Mr. Emerson started to court me a few months ago.”

  “Emerson? Even I know he’s a scoundrel.”

  “I agree. But he didn’t seem to understand that I wanted no part of his attentions. He believed when Tessa’s husband received his inheritance, that I would have a larger dowry. After a fortnight of calling on me, he proposed.”

  “You damn well better have rejected him.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “And that is what caused the talk. Within two days the gossips were attacking my name for refusing yet another suitor. Some started calling me the Selective Spinster, which only brought to everyone’s mind my sister’s moniker of the Cursed Countess. Many people thought it quite humorous.”

  Harry blew out a long sigh. “And what does any of this have to do with me?”

  “With everything that happened, it made me think about marriage and who could help me achieve that state.” Perhaps she could still reach him with humor. She pulled the worn slip of paper from her pocket and held it up. With a timid smile, she said, “I still have this, you know. I could hold you to it.”

  She slid the note across the width of the desk as his scowl deepened. How could she think this would be a good idea? The old Harry would read the pact and laugh, knowing it was in jest. But with this Harry, she had no sense of how he would react. Second thoughts forced her to reach out and try to retrieve the paper, but he snatched the note from her.

  “What is this?” he asked with furrowed brows.

  “A promise we made to each other years ago.” She cast him a broad smile, hoping he would see she wasn�
�t serious.

  As he opened the paper, his jaw tightened. “This is not legal in any sense of the word.”

  “Legal?” That was his thought process now? She took his attitude as a challenge, refusing to back down and tell him her real reason for being here. “Perhaps not, but it does clearly state that if I reached the age of twenty-five and you thirty, we would marry if we had not already done so. It is more a matter of honor than legalities.”

  She watched as his fists clenched tightly, and his lips pressed together as if holding back his rage.

  “We were drunk,” he bit out.

  “Yes, I had imbibed a bit too much that afternoon. While you had barely touched your second brandy, so I doubt you were foxed. And if my alcohol-soaked memory serves me, you wrote the pact. I only signed it.”

  She still remembered that day like it happened yesterday. After lamenting her sister’s upcoming engagement—and drinking far too much brandy—they’d struck their agreement. Both assuming they would be long married when the time came. When she’d found the paper before she departed town, she thought it might remind him of all the lovely times they’d shared, not infuriate him.

  “I won’t be thirty for a few months yet.” He stared down at the paper again.

  “But I turned twenty-five two months ago.” She supposed the time had come to confess her motive.

  Harry blew out a long sigh. “Did you do this on purpose?”

  “Do what?”

  “Attempt to compromise yourself?”

  “Compromise...?” Louisa’s mouth fell open. “How can you ask such a thing of me?”

  “You arrived so conveniently before the Gringhams. No chaperone in tow. And when I requested you remain in your room last night, you defied me. You gave Lady Gringham an incorrect chaperone name. Then, you hurl a paper at me demanding marriage.”

  Stunned, she could only stare at him for a long moment with her mouth agape. How could her dearest friend believe such a thing? “You are truly mad, Harry,” she whispered.

  “Am I? You are the one who stated you needed my help.”

  “Yes, with marriage.” Well, that didn’t come out exactly as she’d hoped, but before she could clarify, he rose to his full height.

  Leaning over the desk, he stared down at her until she looked away from his hard glare. “Do I need to remind you of all the complications between our families?”

  Nothing that happened was his or her fault. Her ire rose as she jumped out of her seat, slapped her hands down on the desk, and leaned across until they were only a few inches apart. She could feel his heated breath on her cheek.

  “I hardly think you need to remind me that your father murdered three of my sister’s husbands and your wife before cowardly committing suicide to avoid the repercussions of his actions.”

  A low hiss escaped his mouth as they glared at each other for a long moment. Her gaze slid to his lips. Were they always so perfect for kissing? Louisa’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared at him. It would only take a slight movement to reach his lips. With that thought, she jolted back as if burned from the scorching heat of his gaze.

  What just happened?

  She didn’t desire Harry! If she hadn’t wanted him when he was a light-hearted young man, she couldn’t possibly desire him now. He was so different. Darker. Colder. Handsome. Intriguing.

  No!

  “Harry, I want to be married,” she whispered, easing herself back into her seat as her anger dissipated. “I want children.”

  Why did everything she say come out wrong today?

  “You came all this way to get me to marry you?” He slowly returned to his seat with a long sigh.

  “I did not expect you to run into my arms and propose when I gave you that paper. Five years ago, if I had tossed that paper at you, you would have laughed and teased me until I gave you the real reason. What happened?”

  “I inherited a dukedom with responsibilities. I do not have time for amusements any longer.” He folded his arms over his chest and stared at her. “So, if you haven’t come here to demand marriage of me, why are you here...alone?”

  “As I said, I need your help, but you haven’t returned a letter to me in years. I felt I had no choice but to come out here.” She shrugged. “And who would I have coerced into coming with me? Tessa is with child and Emma is about to plan her life with Bolton.”

  “A friend?” he suggested. “A maid?”

  “All my friends are married now. And we only have one maid for my mother, Emma, and me.”

  He closed his eyes, but she noticed the way his fists clenched and unclenched as if fighting with his anger. “Why didn’t you marry Blakely two years ago when he proposed?”

  She rose and paced the length of the room from the fireplace to her empty chair. “I don’t know...yes, I do. I just couldn’t...I mean, how could I? He was a lovely man. I should have been able to...but I couldn’t. Could you imagine me with him? It just—”

  “Louisa, you are babbling.”

  She stopped in the middle of the room and placed her hands on her hips, breathing hard. “He talked more about his damn horses than any other topic.”

  He cast her a ghost of a smile. “The man does love his horses.”

  She returned to her seat with a sigh. “I’m a spinster, Harry. Once Emma marries, it will be Mamma and me, living in the house slowly driving each other mad. I cannot live that way. I must marry.”

  “You have a major flaw in your plan.”

  Considering her lack of thoroughness, it was entirely possible.

  “How exactly am I supposed to help you? My father was instrumental in the ruination of your family’s name.”

  His hands continued to tighten into fists. Perhaps it wasn’t just anger causing his emotional distress, she thought. Irritation. Her being here had brought back all the memories of the evils his father had wrought. Why would he wish to help her?

  “I want you to find me a husband. Foolish of me, I know.”

  Harry looked up at the ceiling. “I am sorry, Louisa. But you ask too much of our past friendship.”

  Past friendship?

  Now they couldn’t even be friends? Her heart ached with sadness.

  Of course, he was a duke and didn’t want to help a plain woman, whose family reputation was questionable at best, find a husband. And being a duke, he certainly couldn’t maintain a friendship with her. She rose and commenced pacing again, only so he wouldn’t detect how her eyes welled with tears.

  She’d been so wrong about coming here and asking him for assistance. Leaving seemed her only recourse now, but she was stuck until the snow was packed down enough for the coaches to get through again.

  “Louisa—”

  A slight rap on the door sounded. “What is it?”

  “Your Grace,” Jenkins said as he opened the door. “I am sorry to intrude, but Lady Charlotte insists you join her for tea.”

  Lady Charlotte? Who the devil was Lady Charlotte?

  “Of course, we have finished here anyway,” Harry responded with a glance at her. “Excuse me, Miss Drake.”

  Before she could get a word out of her speechless mouth, he strode from the room. Had Harry remarried? If so, why hadn’t his wife joined them for supper last night? Louisa stood and then followed Jenkins out of the room.

  “Jenkins, where is Lady Charlotte? I have not greeted her properly.”

  “In the nursery, miss.”

  “Of course,” she replied. “Thank you.”

  Had he remarried and had a child already? Without even telling her? Without introducing her?

  She clutched the balustrade for support. No! He couldn’t be married already. Everything would be ruined. No wife would allow her husband to help a woman find a husband.

  Determined to discover the truth, Louisa raced up the stairs to the third floor where the nursery was located. She could hear high-pitched giggles emanating from the room. Slowly, she peeked into the room and then covered her gaping mouth. Harry lay sprawl
ed out on the floor of the room with a small dark-haired girl no older than three sitting on top of his chest.

  It made no sense. While Louisa had only met the late duchess twice before her murder, there had been no talk of a child. Harry’s father had never mentioned a granddaughter. But seeing the black hair on her, Louisa knew the girl would also have light caramel skin and likely brown eyes just like her mother.

  “You have a daughter,” she whispered in awe.

  The little girl turned and looked at her with a frown. “Papa, who’s that?”

  Harry lifted his head from the floor and scowled at her. “Louisa, what are you doing up here?”

  The little girl scrambled off her father and stood to stare at Louisa. “Who are you?”

  Louisa suppressed a smile at the little girl’s brashness. Seeing her stand, Louisa realized the girl was either tall for her age or closer to four than she’d initially thought. “A friend of your father’s.”

  Big brown eyes with long dark lashes dominated Charlotte’s small face. “Papa, may she join us for tea?”

  Harry sat up, brushed his fingers through his hair, and leveled Louisa a dark look. “I’m certain she has other things to do, poppet.”

  Oh, no. He was not about to scare Louisa off. She smiled down at the little girl. “I would be most pleased to join you for tea, Lady...”

  He rose to his feet and waved her in. “Miss Drake, this is my daughter, Charlotte.”

  “Lady Charlotte, it is a great pleasure to meet you,” Louisa said with an exaggerated curtsy to her.

  “Miss Drake,” Charlotte replied with a deep curtsy to her. “It is a pleasure.” She turned back to her father. “Is that right, Papa? Nurse makes me practice.”

  “You did it perfectly,” he replied, smiling down at Charlotte.

  A daughter. Another thing he had kept from her.

  “Miss Drake, sit here,” Charlotte said, pointing to a child size chair.

  “Thank you.” Louisa took the seat as Harry attempted to sit in the chair across from her.

  “This never works,” he grumbled, moving the chair out of the way to sit on the floor. He stretched his long limbs under the table. His leg brushed against hers as he tried to find the best way to sit at a table much too small for him.