Glowing in Gold: The Brothers Duke: Book Five Read online

  Quickly, hungrily, she arched her back and raised her thighs. She needed his fingers deeper inside her, needed the warm, delicious weight of him on top of her, his hot mouth on her neck. His kisses grew lower, deeper, until they lingered at the top of her bodice–oh, and there was his other hand, effortlessly pulling at the fabric as if the gown was made of gossamer.

  There was no time to feel embarrassment at her breasts being freed, only the brief, sweet sensation of the warm orangery air on her bared flesh before his mouth covered one of her nipples, coaxing the stiff, swollen bud to hardness with a shock of bliss that made Jane cry out, her fingers tangling in his hair as her body filled with sweet, perfect fire.

  It was too much. Too much sensation, too much satisfaction–too much lust and need and pleasure all at once. The dancing, dangerous pleasure that had been moving in her ever since they had seen one another, spoken to one another, understood one another, was finally coming to a dizzying crescendo.

  ‘You’re close.’ Edward’s teeth grazed against her neck, his voice a strained hushed murmur as he kissed her. ‘I can feel you. Let it come.’

  ‘Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. If you stop, I–’

  ‘I’ll never stop. Not if you don’t want me to.’ Edward’s voice drowned out everything; there was a note of seriousness in it that was so very clear, even at the height of her pleasure. ‘Let it come, my darling. Let it come.’

  It wasn’t an order, or even a plea–it seemed to come from the heart of him, responding to an unspoken, unknown question deep within herself. All he required was her pleasure–but no, it was more than that. He wanted connection, her spirit as well as her body, and it felt so very, very easy to give it to him.

  ‘Ohhh.’ A deep, broken moan shivered through her as she reached her peak, her lips on Edward’s, her core throbbing with white-hot sensation as she reached her peak.

  It was perfect. It was everything at once. More than her highest expectations, her wildest dreams. It broke through every barrier she had built, filling her, claiming her…

  … and then she was still and quiet in his arms, and it was as if the world had slowly exhaled.

  A long, featureless stretch of time passed as reason gradually returned to her. It came in slow, gradual stages; the smell of the air in the orangery, the pleasurable weakness of her body. Edward’s face above hers, watching her–the feel of his hand as he gently stroked her hair.

  Why did he look so sad?

  He couldn’t look sad. If he was sad about this ending, then–oh, Lord, it would be insufferable. He had to be the rake, or a serious suitor. No half-measures.

  Maybe if she showed him the same ecstasy as he had shown her, it would be easier for him to make his decision. Biting her lip, trying to be brave, Jane boldly ran her hand along the firm outline of his member.

  ‘Let me give you pleasure.’ She reached in vain for the top of his breeches, but he was already pulling away. ‘Please.’

  ‘Your pleasure is my pleasure.’

  ‘Don’t say that. Don’t–don’t pretend.’ Jane looked at him wildly, a doubt forming. ‘Why won’t you?’

  ‘Because–because I am meant to be preparing you for a respectable marriage.’

  ‘And I should learn how to give my future husband pleasure–whoever that may be.’ Jane spoke hurriedly, not giving appropriate care to what she was saying. ‘Why can’t you do that? Why don’t you want to?’

  ‘I’m not going to prepare you for someone else. I’m not.’

  ‘Well that’s–that’s damned selfish of you.’

  ‘How?’ Edward moved closer, his face haggard with anger and an emotion that Jane couldn’t define. ‘How is that selfish?’

  ‘Because–because you evidently don’t intend to keep me for you, and you alone. Your history suggests the opposite.’ Jane took a deep breath; the pain of the words struck her like lightning. ‘You don’t wish to claim me, but you don’t intend to allow me my freedom. You trap me in this hideous half-state, and it… it hurts.’

  ‘You don’t know that. You’ve ascribed the worst motives to my actions.’

  ‘Then come back into the ballroom with me. Dance with me in the open, with people watching. Don’t–don’t snatch moments with me when no-one else can see us.’

  ‘You would prefer me to bow to you in public rather than do what we just did in private?’

  ‘I didn’t realise only one of the options was possible.’ How strange that one could still feel bodily pleasure while experiencing the most unbearable mental pain. ‘Thank you for enlightening me.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘I think you did. And my offer still stands–a public dance.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘Exactly. I thought so.’

  ‘I’m frightened.’

  ‘Do you think I’m not frightened? Not–not terrified? It terrified me to make this decision, and the terror has not abated. But one cannot let terror shrink one’s life down to a series of safe choices!’ Jane tried to control her voice, knowing that the last thing she wanted was an audience of ball-goers. ‘I did not expect this from you.’

  ‘Sentiment?’

  ‘Cowardice.’

  Edward winced as if he had been struck. Jane continued, her voice shaking.

  ‘I am going to return to the ballroom, now. I am going to dance, and drink champagne, and accept compliments which no-one ever thought to give me before. I am going to claim the attention of the room for a single night, as is my right—and then, well, I rather think that this small experiment will be over.’

  ‘We are a—a small experiment?’

  ‘This attempt to make me marriageable. It is an experiment that won’t succeed.’

  ‘Jane, you can’t say—’

  ‘Miss Selkirk, and I can. Look at how foolish I’ve become over a rake’s attention.’ Jane turned away from him as she rose from the seat, adjusting her dress, not wanting him to see the hurt on her face. ‘Imagine how ridiculous I’d become over a gentleman who was serious in his intentions.’

  She walked quickly along the path, the scent of herbs in the air mocking the sourness filling her soul. It was wrong to be so angry, so sad, in a place of such peace—but oh, Lord, she couldn’t help it. Just as she couldn’t help the urge to run back to Edward, fall into his arms and take whatever he chose to gave her.

  But she was worth more than that.

  The Duke townhouse had never been that fashionable a property before the Duke brothers had begun to acquire wives. Before their various unions, they had never found the time to have someone adjust loose roof tiles or dig up the weeds spreading over the small but perfectly formed front garden. But now that feminine hands had taken the reins when it came to the original Duke house, the first adult home of Thomas, Robert, John, Henry and Edward was looking more polished than it had in years.

  Every spare inch of the exterior gleamed, and the smell of paint was rarely far away. The gravel at the front of the house was all of an equal size, as if someone had fashioned each stone to be exactly as large as all of the others, and every plant looked positively smug compared to the bedraggled specimens the neighbours had on display. But for all the new care and attention evident in the house’s appearance, a pall of anxiety hung over the place a fortnight after the Weldon ball.

  Tea had been served in the morning room. Margaret looked anxiously at Charlotte, Dorothea and Anne, who had been called to the house without much time to prepare.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry to have called all of you here at such short notice.’ She poured tea into her friends’ cups, her face drawn with worry. ‘I simply didn’t know what else to do.’

  ‘Is this about Jane?’ Charlotte wrapped her hands around the cup, warming her fingers as she spoke. ‘I saw her near Tattersall’s the other day.’

  ‘As did I. In that dreadful blue sack of a gown.’ Dorothea took a sip of scalding tea, looking guiltily at the faces of her friends. ‘Don’t attack me for plain speaking,
now–Jane would probably say the same thing and use the same description.’

  ‘But that beautiful golden gown! And the day dresses we made along the same line!’ Anne shook her head, the shadows under her eyes betraying a new exhaustion. The other women around the table glanced cautiously at the waistline of her gown, wondering if a change could be seen. Anne and John had been married for a relatively short time, but a child could very well be on the way. ‘I can’t bear to think of them thrown somewhere dark to moulder.’

  ‘Knowing Jane, she’ll cut them into rags and give them to the maids to use for polishing silver.’

  ‘Oh Margaret, how could you say such a thing?’

  ‘It’s the truth.’ Margaret took a sip of her own tea, looking singularly grim. ‘I… I’m dreadfully worried about her.’

  As am I.’ Charlotte paused. ‘She looked so happy at the gown fitting. As if something wonderful had happened.’

  ‘Something did.’ Margaret paused. ‘But—but I think something terrible may have happened at the same time.’

  Such a mysterious, gloomy statement deserved nothing but silence, and it was what she received. Eventually, biting her lip, Margaret relented. ‘Edward.’

  Dorothea’s face fell. ‘Edward Duke? Edward?’

  ‘How many other Edwards do we know?’

  ‘But you can’t mean that he—’

  ‘I’m fairly sure that he did. Exactly what, and to what extent, I don’t know. But yes.’

  The ladies looked at one another, mouths open. Eventually Charlotte turned to Margaret, speaking very carefully. ‘Are… are you sure?’

  ‘Completely sure.’

  ‘But how? He’s such a–’

  ‘Such an unrepentant devourer of women? Yes.’ Margaret shook her head, sighing. ‘I don’t know what’s come over him. Evidently the same malady that has struck Jane.’

  ‘But it’s impossible. Ridiculous. Edward has never had a female acquaintance with more than a modicum of intelligence.’ Dorothea blinked, putting her teacup down. ‘Why would Jane become his target? Is he bored?’

  ‘If he is, he should know better than to callously play with her heart. Jane is no fool, but she’s also no flirt.’

  ‘Very intelligent women can be taken in by very obvious strategies. That’s why rakes have such long and storied careers.’

  ‘And she has discovered that he has been using her?’

  ‘Yes, but—but no. That can’t be it.’ Margaret shrugged. ‘From the very few words that have been exchanged regarding Edward, Jane is not only aware of his character but completely realistic about his lack of serious interest.’

  ‘Yes. And she doesn’t seem the type to sink into melancholy when a gentleman’s attention wanes.’

  ‘Absolutely not!’

  ‘Of course… there is another option.’ Dorothea spoke primly, her hands neatly folded in her lap, but there was a gleam of real excitement in her eyes. ‘One that we’re rather ignorant to not have considered.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘What if he isn’t callously playing? What if he–’

  ‘No. Truly?’

  ‘Goodness.’ Charlotte took a slow, reverent breath. ‘Edward Duke in love. That would be quite… quite something.’

  If the revelation of Edward Duke’s scandalous conduct wasn’t surprising enough, this idea was positively astonishing. The ladies looked at one another in shock, tea entirely forgotten as the concept settled over them like snow.

  ‘But…’ Charlotte spoke softly. ‘Why would she refuse him?’

  ‘Because if I know Edward—and I believe I do, as his sister-in-law—he wouldn’t have been able to admit his sentiments. It goes against the way he’s been living for years.’

  ‘Oh, Lord.’ Anne sighed. ‘Do you think he was hurtful?’

  ‘I hope not. I imagine he was cruel without meaning to be. And with Jane in a more fragile state than usual…’

  ‘Oh, dear. They must have made one another so miserable.’

  ‘Miserable enough to dress oneself in blue sackcloth when beautiful gowns are available.’

  ‘And what are we going to do about it?’

  ‘Well. I have put in place the beginnings of a plan, but I doubt it goes far enough.’ Margaret looked carefully at each of her friends. ‘I have invited Jane here on Thursday, on the pretence of discussing a perfume we acquired. I don’t intend to keep the appointment—she will be in the house alone. Alone with Edward.’

  ‘That seems risky, Margaret.’

  ‘Yes. It is—not least because I doubt Jane will come. She sees through every strategy.’

  ‘But we don’t have any other ideas.’

  ‘No.’ Margaret sighed. ‘We don’t. And as much as we sit here and discuss the matter, I doubt we’ll come up with anything more inventive.’

  While her friends were anxiously discussing her fate, Jane was waiting outside a house yet again. This time, instead of the Duke townhouse, it was the elegant, massive façade of the Weldon house that loomed above her as she questioned her motives for the thousandth time.

  Was she going completely mad? Probably not, although the resumption of the new gowns would be seen as a Bedlam-worthy decision by every woman in London. It had seemed pointless, putting those lovely lengths of cloth on her body only to have no-one she cared about looking at her. She had been looked at by leagues of gentlemen at the Weldon ball, and she still couldn’t bear to think about any of them…

  … any of them, but one.

  She needed to talk to someone, or she really would become completely addled. It was all very well that she loved her friends very dearly, but it was evident that their advice wouldn’t help at this particular juncture. She had listened to their helpful words, and had finished in this–well. This mess.

  Speaking to someone only tangentially connected to the situation would be helpful, if only to have a brief respite from the howling bleakness of her own thoughts. She had walked briskly down the street, ignoring questioning glances from gentlemen who had seen her at the ball and presumably couldn’t recognise her face, and had made her way to the Weldon townhouse with no small amount of determination.

  Charles Weldon was a gentleman she’d never succeeded in working out. An old friend of Anne Duke and a mill owner of tremendous wealth, he had almost been convinced to marry Anne by Margaret at the height of her matchmaking powers—but the union had failed, not least because Anne and Charles couldn’t force themselves to be in love. Now, even though he had maintained his firm friendship with Anne and become a willing ally to the Duke brothers, the man had a solitary air to him that Jane found curious.

  Still, he had a sound mind and seemed resistant to lighter forms of embarrassment. A conversation with him, however brief, would be able to untangle the messy knot of thought and sentiment that rose in her whenever she thought of Edward.

  Fortunately, the Weldon butler seemed more amenable to welcoming guests than the butler in the employ of the Duke brothers. She was welcomed in with the utmost professional warmth after Charles had been informed of her presence, and led through a series of corridors that spoke of the wealth and taste of the house’s owner. Eventually, with a proud smile, the butler showed her into the library.

  Charles had evidently been reading. The vast, well-stocked library was in mild disorder; a great number of books lay strewn over the large oak desk, covering sheets of densely annotated paper. Jane looked around her in frank admiration as Charles stood, bowing low.

  ‘Miss Selkirk. Forgive my lack of preparation. I fear you find me in a somewhat informal state.’

  ‘You were perfectly within your rights to refuse my visit. I made no arrangement, after all.’ Jane couldn’t help smiling at the sight of all the books on the shelves. ‘Of course, I wouldn’t have seen this magnificent room.’

  ‘It’s one of my favourite places. I read, I peruse–I think.’

  ‘I wish my library was large enough to think this expansively.’

  ‘You�
�re welcome to sit in here for a little while and think with me. I’ll call for a maid.’

  ‘No–no chaperone, please. If you’d be so good.’ Jane held up an awkward hand, as if to fend off the nosy stares of unseen Weldon housemaids. ‘My conversation is not for everyone’s ears.’

  If Charles was alarmed, he did his best not to show it. ‘Ah.’

  ‘I’ve decided to come to you because you aren’t married.’

  ‘... I see. Or rather, I don’t.’ Charles paused, putting down the book he had been holding. ‘Is this some sort of–’

  ‘Attempt at seduction? No. I think we can both agree that I wouldn’t be very good at it.’ Jane sat down abruptly on the nearest chair, already regretting her decision to ask for help. She’d asked for help from Margaret, and look what had happened there. ‘But I need advice. Help, really. And you are unmarried, so you should be able to help me untangle my thoughts in a vaguely reasonable manner.’

  ‘Not that I don’t wish to help but–but why can’t married people help, exactly?’

  ‘Because they’re happy. They’ve found the person worthy of spending sleepless nights worrying about.’ Jane dug her hands into her skirts, wishing she could curl up and disappear. ‘And–and I don’t know if I have. I’m not sure, even if I feel sure. If that makes sense.’

  ‘Would you like me to lie and say it does?’

  ‘No. I want you to tell me if I’m being a perfect fool about Edward Duke.’ Jane bit her lip as a line appeared between Charles’s brows. ‘And if he’s being a perfect fool about me.’

  The silence that followed her words was infinitely gentle. Thank goodness Charles was a good listener, even with his peaceful morning of reading interrupted. Jane let the quiet of the book-filled room wrap around her like a blanket, until she finally felt a measure of the peace that she’d assumed was long gone.