Chapter 2
Celeste didn’t know how she had expected the duke to receive her offer, but it was not to tilt back his head and have a good, long laugh.
The strong, masculine sound filled the room. She waited for him to finish, her back tight.
At last, he regained control over himself, and the room fell silent.
His sharp gaze reassessed her. She felt there wasn’t a hair or thread he didn’t notice.
Here was the Dragon, the man women whispered about.
She recognized his power even before he said in a voice as smooth as syrup and just as thick with promise, “What if I don’t wish to reform, Lady Celeste? ”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mouth had gone suddenly dry while other parts of her tightened in anticipation. He walked toward her, stopping when they were almost toe to toe. She fought the urge to step back. She had to look up to meet his eye.
His lips curved into a most wicked smile. “What lessons could you teach me?” he wondered as if he already knew the answer.
She swallowed for courage and said, “Not the ones you seem to be thinking of.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“You have a reputation.”
He shook his head as if slightly disappointed and took a step back. “Very well, you aren’t looking for seduction, and you haven’t run in fear or swooned into my arms. I appreciate that. Swooning females are tiresome.”
“I imagine swooning males are equally annoying.”
His lips twitched as if he stifled a smile. “I wouldn’t know.”
“I do. Indiscriminate swooning is a bane for all involved.”
He gave a sharp bark of laugher as if she had surprised him. “Quite true.” He gave her a small bow of respect, and his manner changed to one of respect. “So, what do you wish of me, my lady?”
“A moment of your time. It is impossible for a woman, especially a single woman of our class, to speak to an unmarried gentleman without the gossips having the wrong idea. I couldn’t knock on your door.
We don’t have any acquaintances in common.
” She shrugged. “This seemed to be the only way to make contact, and if someone were to walk in right now, it could be awkward. Would you please sit, Your Grace? You are tall, and I tire of looking up at you.”
Without argument, he did exactly as she asked. He walked to the chair in front of the fire and plopped down. He held out his gloved hands, a sign that he was at her disposal.
She moved between his chair and its footstool to stand in front of him. “I would like you to become the chief patron of my charity.”
“Me?” He eyed her suspiciously. “Involved with a charity? Are you certain you wouldn’t rather be seduced?”
Celeste made an impatient sound. “I’m being serious.”
“I am, too.”
“Your Grace, I am making an earnest request. However, if you are not interested, say as much and I will happily leave.” She threw the last words out with a hint of bravado, although her greatest fear was that he would reject her offer.
He shook his head. “If it is a charity, a wiser course would be to solicit Lady Redhill’s assistance.
Isn’t she the maven of charities amongst the ton?
” She heard the hint of distaste in his tone.
It was rumored that he and the powerful Lady Redhill despised each other. Another reason Celeste had come to him.
“I went to Lady Redhill. She laughed at me. She dismissed my idea as ‘unimportant.’ And you are right that everyone in Society turns to her for approval. If I had a shilling for every time I’ve been asked if I have discussed this proposal with Lady Redhill, I wouldn’t need to raise money.”
“Rejected by Lady Redhill. You truly are desperate then.”
“I am.”
“But you know one person who isn’t afraid of her power,” he said confidently.
“You,” she answered. “I am hoping you will hear me out and agree to help.”
“I’d agree to help just to tweak her ladyship’s nose. However, go on. What is this charity you want me to sponsor?”
This was the question she had prayed to hear. Proprieties flew from her mind in her enthusiasm to gain his support. She sat on the footstool, ready to sway him to her cause.
Lady Celeste’s expressive eyes filled with sincerity and a hope kindred to desire, and Oliver found himself wishing she did want to be seduced. The hearth light haloed her golden curls and highlighted the curves of very generous breasts and the beckoning shadow of her cleavage.
Oliver knew he should not even be encouraging her. Without Lady Redhill’s blessing, her cause was hopeless.
However, he was curious about what she was planning. Her passion for her cause shone bright in her eyes, and that cherry and rose scent swirled around her like some siren’s spell.
“I want to help our soldiers who have been severely wounded by the war. Many men have lost an arm or a leg, or been blinded. There are men who have no family to help care for them. They end up begging on the streets.”
Oliver gave a start. She had surprised him. He had been anticipating a decorated box for the poor or a garden project with a statue in some park. Even a home for motherless children. That was the purview of gently reared young ladies.
Not men who had been destroyed by war.
He understood Lady Redhill’s disapproval. Such a cause was not proper for gentlewomen.
Except… was it true their country had abandoned wounded soldiers? If so, that was outrageous.
He leaned forward. “Don’t our soldiers receive a pension for such devastating injuries?”
“That is what I thought. But I have since learned that the pension they receive is a pittance. Also, many feel deformed. They had strong bodies, but now that they are without an arm or a leg, they can no longer do the work they once did. And they are alone. Often by choice. One man told me he is so ashamed of his injury that he didn’t want to return to his village. ”
Teasing and seduction evaporated from Oliver’s mind. He pictured himself in these circumstances. He, too, would feel less of a man.
“They deserve a good place to live,” she continued. “I want to build a community for them instead of leaving them on the streets of London.”
This was truly a noble cause. He nodded his agreement, his mind beginning to work on the problem.
“And many dogs and cats on the streets of London need homes as well.”
Oliver stopped nodding, suddenly confused by the change of topic. “Dogs and cats?”
“Have you not noticed the soldiers begging on our streets?”
He hadn’t. But now that she prodded him, he reflected that there were a number of crippled beggars on the streets. He’d never suspected they could be former soldiers. “But dogs and cats?”
She smiled at him as if she knew how woefully unaware he was.
“Every time you see one of the king’s men begging, he always has a beloved animal at his side.
A dog or a cat. One man has a crow that he has trained.
These animals are like family to the men, so wherever we find a place for them to live, the animals must be included.
A place in the country would be ideal. Someplace large enough that the men can take care of themselves and regain a sense of self-respect.
You do appreciate the importance of pets, don’t you? ”
He didn’t... but he didn’t wish to tell her that. She obviously had strong opinions on the subject. He was also beginning to understand why Lady Redhill laughed.
And then it hit him—the Harrington sisters. Yes, he’d heard of them. One codger at his club had claimed they were all too intelligent and forward-thinking for their own good. The man had also added a dire verdict, “No wonder they aren’t married.”
Oliver was aware that there were numerous women with excellent minds, spirit, and even looks who never married. His cousin Amanda came to mind. She’d rather have her books, art, and garden than an overbearing husband.
“I need your help, Your Grace.” Lady Celeste leaned forward, seemingly unaware that it drew his attention to the mounds of lovely, smooth skin above her bodice.
It was hard not to stare, especially since he found himself drawn to her.
However, Amanda had taught him that women didn’t not appreciate being ogled.
He reluctantly forced his gaze to meet Lady Celeste’s imploring eyes.
“And I can help you in return,” she promised.
“It would be good for your reputation to be seen as noble. A noble duke.”
Now she had his complete attention. “Instead of… what?” Was he not noble? Was he not a duke? Then he thought of the way Liverpool and Robinson had dismissed him.
“Please, I don’t mean to insult you,” she hurried to say. “You are an important guest on any list. However, I believe you are being invited for the gossip. People like to pretend they are scandalized by the number of women you have bedded—”
“Not that many women. I’m discerning.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded without so much as a blush. “It may all be jealousy or the enjoyment of spreading rumors. Did you truly swing across Lady Milbury’s ballroom on her chandelier, showering wax on everyone?”
“That was years ago. I was barely nineteen. And I did it for a wager. I won. Unfortunately, that damn story follows me everywhere.” He made a frustrated sound. “Most of what the papers print is untrue.”
“If you support my charity, it will show a different side to you. People will think of you as a leader.”
She was right, but he’d learned to be wary. “What do you receive out of my patronage?”
“Your endorsement will attract attention. People will listen to you.”
“But you, what do you receive?”
“My late father’s last request was for me to start a charity for a cause that matters to me. If I succeed, I will receive a small inheritance, one I will donate to the charity.”
He wanted to say yes, but he hesitated. Lady Redhill, with her sniffs of disdain and rolling of eyes, was one of his chief critics, and her opinion carried weight.
She enjoyed belittling people. Perhaps she was behind some of Liverpool’s concerns about him?
He knew why she was angry with him. She had wanted him to marry her daughter.
She’d practically thrown the girl at him.
And he’d been too young back then to understand how he could have better handled the situation.
But he was older now. He was also ready to stand for something. Lady Celeste’s cause was just... until she rattled on about dogs and cats. However, he questioned if his association with the charity, especially considering Lady Celeste’s unmarried status, would do more harm than good—
Voices sounded right outside the library door. Women’s voices. Loud women’s voices. One was practically shouting, and the other raised her voice to answer.
Lady Celeste’s eyes widened. “That sounds like Lady Redhill. I must hide.” She jumped up from the stool, just as Oliver rose.
The two actions were ill-timed. They collided.
Legs became tangled and almost toppled them to the floor.
Their arms grabbed each other as they attempted to save themselves from falling.
Her breasts pressed against his chest. Full, lovely breasts, he noted, but there was no time to savor the moment because Lady Redhill answered the woman in the hall with an impervious, “I go where I please. Stand aside, Dame Beatrice, or I shall elbow you back.”
The library door slammed open, and Oliver took the only action that made sense to him. He swung Lady Celeste around in his arms so that she was hidden in the shelter of his body, his back toward the door. He did the most logical thing for a man and a woman to do in a firelit room.
He kissed her.