3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
J ames Talbot, Duke of St. Albans, had come to the Ockham house party for one reason, and one reason only. To meet the beautiful widow he had heard about from one of his friends and see if she might invite him to her bed. He had doubted if he made the right choice in attending at all, given that he wasn’t that thrilled about being at a society event.
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.
James followed the rest of the guests outside and joined the group that formed a circle around their hostess. He could not focus on the rules of the game as his eyes remained locked on Lady Preston. She was whispering with Lord Craven, an earl he’d met the previous evening. Her hand patted the man’s arm when he spoke to her, and she gave him a wide grin. The entire exchange was far too familiar, and it irritated him.
As if she sensed his irritation, she caught his gaze before he could look away and flashed him that smirk that tempted him beyond measure. He needed to control his reaction to her, since it wouldn’t do to pitch a tent in his breeches in the middle of the Pall Mall game.
Before he could attempt to claim her as a partner, she was already at the rack, selecting a mallet.
“I hope you won’t mind purple, Nick, but it is my favorite color,” she called out to Craven.
That she was on such an informal basis with the man, using his given name, didn’t bode well for him, especially if she were thinking of taking the earl to her bed instead of him. He glanced around, realizing he had claimed no one to partner with, and noticed a young lady, Miss Stone, standing alone. Thankfully, he had been introduced to her after dinner the prior evening.
“Would you like to partner with me, Miss Stone?”
She looked up at him, and her eyes sparkled with delight. “Oh, very much so, Your Grace.”
Just perfect. The chit was already setting her cap at him, planning their wedding, and imagining what their three children would look like.
James offered her a polite nod. “Why don’t you select a mallet for us?”
She giggled, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. Miss Stone sauntered up to the rack and selected the white mallet. She brandished it as if she wished for him to give some sign of approval. James offered a tight smile, and they moved to stand beside each other in line to await their turn.
Conveniently, he was standing beside Lady Preston. The alluring scent of lilies met his nostrils, and he knew it came from her. He leaned slightly towards her. “Good to see you this morning, minx.”
“You as well, Duke,” she whispered.
“Can we—” he started before the chit beside him interrupted.
“Your Grace, tell me all about your country home,” Miss Stone said. When he glanced at her, she was staring daggers at Lady Preston, and when he glanced between them, it appeared that Lady Preston was highly amused by the turn of events.
“Don’t let me keep you from your young lady,” she whispered, muffling her laughter.
He did roll his eyes that time and then turned back to face the eager young chit. “Willowcrest is a beautiful estate. I prefer to spend most of my time there.” His tone was a bit more clipped than he intended, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.
Fortunately, it was their turn, so he motioned for her to take the first swing. She was an abysmal player and sent the ball past the first wicket. It was going to be a long morning, indeed. James glanced back at Lady Preston, who was setting up to take her swing. She was graceful in the way she moved, and her ball smoothly rolled right through the wicket. She caught his gaze and gave him a bit of a sympathetic grin.
“Your Grace,” the chit beside him said, attempting to get his attention. “We must wait by our ball until our next turn.”
“Oh, of course. Lead the way, Miss Stone.”
The rest of the game was spent much the same way over the next few hours. He watched Lady Preston as often as he could, while Miss Stone tried to engage him in a one-sided conversation. It wasn’t lost on James that the young miss attempted everything to catch his attention, hoping he might court her. He did his best to dissuade her of such a notion by keeping his distance from her when they awaited their turn and only engaging in light conversation.
Finally, Lord Irvine and Lady Eliza were declared the victors of the game, and he could vacate the presence of Miss Stone to seek an audience with Lady Preston. He breathed a sigh of relief when Craven left her side, but then a pretty, red-haired young lady with spectacles joined her side. Would he ever have the opportunity to speak with the lady alone again?
James stood there for a few moments, debating whether he would join their conversation, and his hesitation cost him dearly when the voice of his Pall Mall partner sounded behind him.
“Oh, Your Grace, I believe I am in need of assistance.”
He cringed and then schooled his features before he turned around to face her.
“How might I help, Miss Stone?” His tone didn’t convey his excitement to assist, but it was one occasion when he was thankful that his duke title afforded him the right to be haughty and no one would think twice about it. It wasn’t a behavior he used often, but he was beyond annoyed.
“I believe I hurt my ankle. Might you help me back to the house?”
So that was what she was playing at.
“Of course.” He stepped closer to her and put her arm around his shoulder so he could support her and help her walk.
“Ouch. I’m not certain I can walk.”
The chit was unbelievable. He glanced around, hoping any other gentleman was nearby that he might pass her off to. The whole thing reminded him of why he avoided social events. The marriage-minded woman hoped to win the opportunity to become a duchess, and their aspirations erased all of their good sense.
Resigning himself to his fate, he spoke again through gritted teeth. “Will you allow me to carry you, then?”
“That would be most kind of you, Your Grace.” She fluttered her eyelashes, and he looked away to keep from rolling his eyes directly in her face.
He scooped her up, and she made a show of wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him tighter than she ought. James quickened his pace, deciding that the faster he got her inside, the faster he might rid himself of her.
Once they entered the salon from the terrace, he deposited her on the nearest settee. “I shall fetch a maid to tend to you.” His words were hurried, and he departed from her presence before she could ask any more of him. He knew the maid was wholly unnecessary since the chit had made the whole thing up, but he did as he said and told the first maid he found about the miss in need of assistance.
Avoiding the salon at all costs, he bypassed the room and exited to the terrace from a long hallway. For a moment, he thought it might have just been easier to just visit a brothel after all. But when he saw Lady Preston leaning to smell the bloom of a rose from the bushes that lined the grass around the terrace, something about her called to him. It became far easier to understand why seamen were lured to their deaths by the allure of a siren.
Her friend was still at her side, but he wouldn’t allow anything else to keep him from engaging her in conversation. He descended the staircase from the terrace and approached them at the line of bushes. “My ladies, you both look lovely this morning.”
The redhead gave him a knowing look, and he could only assume she was aware of her friend’s reputation.
“Your Grace, have you been introduced to Lady Lily yet?” Lady Preston asked.
He took the lady’s hand and bowed over it. “I haven’t had the pleasure, but I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
“You as well, Your Grace,” Lady Lily said.
“Do you know what our hostess has planned for us next?” he asked, including both ladies in his question.
“I believe a luncheon shall be set up on the terrace shortly,” Lady Preston replied.
Before he could say anything else, Lord Knox approached, and James fought his irritation. If he were bested again in getting an audience with the woman of his desire, he might have to resort to throwing her over his shoulder.
“Lady Lily, might we go for a stroll in the gardens before luncheon?”
James almost released an audible sigh that his luck might finally change and he’d get the beauty alone.
“That would be lovely, my lord,” she replied. She caught Lady Preston’s attention. “Surely you will be all right on your own?” She posed it as a question, but by the way she smirked at her friend, it gave James the impression that it was more of a jest. Perhaps they had even discussed him, which might be a point in his favor.
“Of course,” Lady Preston replied. “Have a pleasant stroll. I am sure His Grace will make for fine company.”
The pair departed, finally leaving him alone with the only woman he wished to speak with. Before anyone else could approach, he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, escorting her on a stroll in the yard, away from the other guests who still congregated under the tent set up for those who didn’t partake in the game.
“My lady, I believe you owe me a list of requirements.”