Her White Wedding: Dark Duke’s Legacy Page 3

  She shook her head. “I told you, I don’t want a lord. I—”

  “I made assumptions about you based on your position and your first marriage. Assumptions that were wrong. Is it possible you are also making assumptions about lords? I work in the merchant business, there are good and bad men there, same as any other. I’d guess that’s true for doctors and barristers alike. Don’t rule out any class of men.”

  Esme’s eyes widened. Because she had made assumptions about lords and their suitability as a spouse. And his invitation to a small dinner party might be the perfect way to reintroduce herself into society.

  With Ben attempting to right his affairs in the North, he wouldn’t be able to help her any time soon. And Esme had to start somewhere.

  Glancing at Declan again, she wondered about the wisdom of spending more time with him. But, at least, when she replied to Ben, she could assure him that she’d started to look for a husband.

  And so she lifted her chin and gave a quick nod. “I’d be delighted to attend the dinner party with you, my lord.”

  Two nights later, Declan stood with his sister and Esme as the two women chatted amicably.

  Of course, Charlotte had grilled him in the carriage about how he and Esme had met and why he, of all people, was escorting a widowed duchess. It had taken some doing, but finally his sister was satisfied that he and Esme knew each other by pure coincidence and that his intention was only to help someone, Esme, who was in need.

  The truth was far greyer.

  He’d gone to her home a few nights ago, contemplating a tryst, a tup. He’d left completely unsatisfied and far more interested.

  After they’d come to an understanding, he’d stayed for dinner where they’d spoken amicably about her travels, his business, her family and his. The evening had been thoroughly enjoyable and the longer he’d stayed, the more heat seemed to collect under the surface of his skin.

  A heat which he would not act upon. While Abby had wounded him greatly, he’d lashed out at Esme in a way that had been entirely inappropriate. Why her? Why now? Abby’s betrayal had occurred years ago. He’d not gone about abusing other women on the streets of London then, had he? Or accusing them of loose morals.

  Declan rubbed a hand down his face. He’d called himself a fool more times than he could count the past few days. He’d not compound his errors by then making overtures.

  But even now, he was aware of her. The subtle shift of her body, the light smile that played about her lips, the way a few pieces of her silky hair framed her face.

  He’d like to touch that hair, sliding the strands through his fingers.

  Hell, he’d like to touch a great deal more than her hair.

  Which only made him realize why he’d been so rude. He liked her. More than liked her. An attraction pulled at the pit of his stomach, settling in his loins with a heaviness that robbed him of thought.

  Damn.

  Two men approached, both lords he knew from his club.

  He nodded his head, hoping to avoid lengthy conversation but his acknowledgment seemed like their invitation to join him.

  He frowned, rolling his shoulders. He was preoccupied and not in the mood to socialize, despite being at a party.

  The beauty next to him had filled his thoughts.

  And apparently, he wasn’t the only one.

  Both men, Lord Reeves and Lord Mark, gave lengthy looks at Esme before turning back to Declan. “Lord Parker,” Reeves boomed, a man who thought everything sounded better when said loudly. “Good to see you.”

  “And you,” he answered, shifting his weight so that he partially blocked Esme from view. A possessive need to shield her had punctuated their first meeting and he had that same emotion now.

  Lord Mark attempted to see around him, his neck craning. “A fine evening to be out.”

  “Indeed.” He raised his brows as he expanded his chest.

  Esme was here to meet men. He should step aside but…he didn’t like the way they looked at her. Or that they looked at all. There was far too much interest in their sharp gazes.

  “And so good to see your sister again.” Lord Reeves gave him a large smile. “It’s been quite some time.”

  Was the man just angling for an introduction? If Charlotte said hello, surely an audience with Esme would follow.

  But his sister stepped around him. “Lord Reeves, a pleasure.”

  The man reached for his sister’s hand, bringing her gloved fingers to his lips. In a flurry, Lord Reeves filled a spot on her dance card, then whisked her onto the dance floor.

  Esme laughed next to him. “I thought you said this was a small dinner party? There must be a hundred people here.”

  He had to chuckle at that, and Lord Mark laughed too. Grudgingly, Declan made the introduction and before he knew what was happening, Mark was sweeping Esme out onto the dance floor.

  He stood there like an addlebrained schoolboy, watching Mark attempt to charm Esme.

  The man whispered close to her ear, spinning her about the floor.

  Declan had to grudgingly admit the other man was an adequate dancer. He had a good income and a steady disposition.

  He was tall enough and… He frowned. The very idea of him introducing Esme to her future husband made his insides twist with regret.

  What was it he wanted from her then?

  Chapter Four

  Esme looked into Lord Mark’s grey eyes and declared this dance the strangest of her life.

  For several very good reasons.

  First, she wasn’t certain she wanted to dance at all.

  She’d joined him out of social obligation, nothing more.

  Second, the man was working terribly hard to gain her favor and the longer she withheld it, the more he seemed to try. She’d forgotten this about eligible men. They liked the chase.

  And third…well the third was the trickiest. She was dancing clear across the room with another man, and yet nearly all of her attention was focused on Lord Parker.

  She could feel his energy from across the room, drawing her, making her wish to return to his side.

  Silly girl, she chided herself again. At least that’s how she felt inside. Lord Parker had been completely up front that he didn’t like her sort and she’d straight out told him she wasn’t interested in a man like him.

  But it had been a lie. Sort of.

  She meant the words when she said them. She didn’t need a man who falsely accused her of committing acts she wouldn’t dare commit. And who treated her poorly. A man of the peerage who had enough power to treat the people around him however he liked.

  But despite all of that, he was also the man who’d saved her from a cutpurse. Who’d escorted her to a hack, and who’d apologized when he’d realized he’d been mistaken.

  But they’d already said more to one another about why they did not work than she’d probably shared with her husband in their years of marriage.

  The dance with Lord Mark ended and Esme excused herself, desperate for escape. She didn’t wish to stay with Mark, didn’t really want to return to Declan. Or, to put it more precisely, didn’t think it was a wise choice.

  And so she made her way out to the garden instead, catching a breath in the cool evening air.

  There was enough of a chill that few people joined her, and she mostly had the fenced and gated sanctuary to herself. She slipped toward the back, winding down a hedged path until it opened up to a seating area with a bench.

  She slid onto the wooden slats, breathing a sigh of relief. That quickly stilled in her throat at the sound of Declan’s deep voice.

  “That was quite the exhale.”

  She covered her mouth before dropping her hand. “Pardon me. It’s a bit of a relief to be outside and alone after the crowd.”

  “May I?” He pointed to the bench next to her.

  “Please do,” she said, her back stiffening as she slid over to make room.

  The moment he sat, despite the fact they weren’t touching, she could feel the warmth of his body seeping into hers.

  “Why’d you leave?” he asked softly, his hand reaching for hers. His fingers were warm and strong as they slipped into hers. “Was Lord Mark rude? Do I need to go teach him a lesson in manners?”

  She smiled. Why did it feel so good to have someone to lean on? Figuratively speaking. “No. Nothing like that.” And then she rested her head on his shoulder as another sigh escaped her lips. “Thank you for bringing me tonight. It was most kind.”

  “Is that your polite way of asking me to take you home?”

  She laughed, a small low laugh. “No. I would never do that to your sister. But I find I’ve little appetite for society and less for courting.”

  He didn’t answer and she lifted her head to look up at him.

  That’s when she realized, he’d leaned close, his face angled toward hers. Their faces were only a few inches apart, his spicy male scent wrapping about her even as his warm breath fanned across her cheek.

  She drew in another breath, drawing him in and reached up to brace herself, landing on his chest.

  She’d never kissed a man other than her husband, and truth be told, the duke hadn’t been much for kissing. Had they touched lips beyond their vows?

  Excitement made her heart speed up and her breath catch. She warmed in all sorts of secret places as a powerful curiosity gripped her. What would another man’s lips feel like?

  And then she knew.

  He pressed his mouth to hers, achingly soft, a light brush of mouths that sent feeling ricocheting through every fiber of her body. He pulled back before kissing her again, another light touch before he deepened the kiss, his mouth a firmer press that made a knot of tension coil inside her.

  His kiss was glorious.

&n
bsp; Nothing like she’d ever felt before.

  Was this why some women liked the act? Sought it out? Was it possible that being with a man might feel good?

  He raised his head, his fingers brushing down her cheek. “I can take you home if you’d like. I’m sure Charlotte would understand.”

  His offer was so…kind. His lips had been even sweeter. She swallowed down a lump, willing herself to move away but she found herself still pressed into his side, still resting her hand on his chest. “Thank you, but no. When I write Ben tomorrow, I shall tell him that I spent the evening out and that…” she wrinkled her nose, “I even danced with a few men.”

  He chuckled low. “And this? Will you report this too?”

  She raised her brows and stared up at him, wishing that he’d kiss her again. “Of course not. For both our sakes.”

  Those words were like a splash of cold water in the face.

  Esme was completely right. As a widow she was free to seek a discreet affair but alerting the duke, the very duke who wished for her to be wed, could mean that Declan very quickly found himself at the altar.

  A brief thought flashed through his mind that Esme was one hell of a consolation prize. A woman like her would warm his bed and his life.

  He drew back in surprise.

  When, in the last ten years, had he looked on marriage that favorably?

  Esme must have sensed his withdrawal, though surely not his reason for it, and straightened, removing her hand from his jacket. “Forgive me. I’ve gone and ruined the most lovely moment, haven’t I?”

  Another surprise. “You thought it lovely?” It had been. There had been fire in that kiss, but tenderness too, in perfect balance. He’d liked to have deepened the touch, explored her mouth with his tongue. Explored the taste and feel of her.

  “Oh yes,” she said in that open and honest way of hers. A way he very much enjoyed. “I’ve never—” And then she clamped her lips shut.

  “You’ve never what?”

  She shook her head, but he hooked a finger under her chin, lifting her face to his.

  “I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

  A possessive agreement rumbled in his chest. He had to agree but there was a wonder in her voice that spoke of something even deeper than he had experienced. “How many men have you kissed, do you think?”

  Even in the dark, he noted the flush that stained her cheeks. “I…” she started and then without warning, she stood. “I should return inside.”

  He stood too, a game they seemed to play often when alone. “Don’t run,” he said low. “I think you’re stronger than that.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “You’re right.”

  He touched her face then. “I mean no offense. You just seem awed and…” Declan stopped when she caught her lip between her teeth.

  “My newness was showing through.”

  Those words made a jolt of understanding tighten his muscles.

  “Was I terrible?”

  Bloody hell, now he’d made her insecure. Drawing her against his chest, he held her tightly with one arm, cupping her cheek with the other. “No darling, I also thought it a wonderful kiss. You just seemed surprised to have enjoyed it at all.”

  She sagged against him, her hands coming to his chest. “My husband, he was not fond of touching me that way and…” She turned away, her gaze trained at the darkness. “I didn’t know kissing could be so consuming.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment as realization washed over him. She’d paid a very dear price for choosing the duke, much the way he’d paid for giving his heart to Abby. And she ached inside. It was clear as day even in this dark garden. “Dare I tell you that it could be better?”

  She gasped again, her features growing taut. “With more experience?”

  He quietly laughed, wanting nothing more than to make this woman feel good. “Esme, rarely has a kiss been so…exceptional. There is a connection between us. We both know it’s true. What I meant is that with more time, it can be truly wonderful.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, her hands fisting into his coat. “Oh, I…”

  He knew with certainty that he wanted to be the man to show her. He also knew he’d been completely wrong about her. Which would have been fine except he’d accused her outright of being a morally degraded debutante.

  Christ, he’d been so wrong, it hurt.

  “We should return inside. While you’ll not face ruin, you’ll still be subject to gossip if we loiter out here much longer.”

  “Of course.” She nodded, pulling away. “Thank you for considering that. I…”

  Declan drew in a long breath, his thumb stroking her cheek. He wanted to say more. In this moment, he’d like to offer…he’d like to offer her whatever she wished.

  The surprise of that feeling made him stiffen again, which he covered by tucking her hand into his elbow and started guiding them back toward the house. He needed time to sift through his thoughts.

  Was he considering a future with Esme?

  No, he couldn’t be. Esme had hinted at Abby’s motivations in a way that pained him but he knew was true. A woman needed to marry a man who could provide for a family. Women married titled lords because they could secure futures for their wives and children. His business was successful now but did he really want that sort of responsibility?

  It must just be the magic of the moonlit kiss, along with the knowledge that it wasn’t a gift she’d ever given before.

  But then again, the idea of allowing another man to touch her. Dance with her. Pull her out into the garden and kiss her as he’d just done.

  No. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all.

  Chapter Five

  They made their way back inside, but Declan did not return her to the quiet corner she’d been in before her dance with Lord Mark.

  Instead, he pulled her to the center of the dance floor and then, holding her hand in his, he bowed.

  Esme curtsied but a question surely danced in her eyes. If they were avoiding gossip, wouldn’t it be best if they separated?

  But he didn’t answer her unspoken question as the waltz began. Without words, he led her about the polished marble floor with his strong, sure hands.

  She let out a deep exhale, realizing she could lose herself in this man’s arms. Layered below the loneliness, below the assuredness that she’d never subject herself to a tyrant again, was a wish.

  A wish that a good, strong man would protect her from the hardness of the world. Heal her after what she’d suffered.

  She closed her eyes and pictured Declan in front of her. He certainly was strong enough. Capable.

  But who protected her from him?

  Granted, she might not need protection. Declan might very well be a good man but then again, he might not. Until she knew, she had to stop picturing him as her hero. Besides, he didn’t want the role. He’d been clear about that.

  So why make such a public display?

  But she stopped considering as he spun her, stealing her breath. Then she all could focus on was him, his large hand on her waist, the power in every step.

  She never wanted this dance to end. And then it did.

  With a sigh, she took his arm as they returned to his sister. Whispers followed them as they went, many of the guests eyeing them as they crossed the room.

  “Well, we likely should have just stayed in the garden,” she muttered under her breath. “We seem to be all the gossip.”

  He smiled. “Oh no. They might be talking but the conversation is different.”

  Her brows rose. “How’s that?”

  “If we’d stayed in the garden, they’d think us lovers. Now, they’re wondering if I’m courting you.”

  Hope coursed down her spine. Was he?

  Did she dare ask?

  But his sister Charlotte gave them a wave and a large smile as they approached. She reached out for Esme’s hand, squeezing it in hers. “There you two are.” She gave Esme the smallest wink, so subtle, Esme was certain no one else noticed. “I’ve been looking everywhere.” She still stood with Lord Reeves, who seemed quite content to play her companion while she’d waited.