The Duke's Gamble Page 6

  Rebecca and Thomas had come to call the next morning to see that she had arrived home safely. Rebecca was bursting with excitement and could not resist spilling everything that Harrison had told Thomas about the Duke’s feelings for her. Louisa had initially been amazed and a little more than excited, particularly after their kiss, which she decided to keep secret from Rebecca for now. But then days had gone by without a word from Grayson. Louisa assumed that his interest in her had waned once he had reflected on how she had deceived him.

  Thomas had laid low for days, worried that Chalmers would see him punished for his role in the deception. Chalmers had apparently been furious with his men for failing to capture the young lad who had impersonated Noah Wembly but thus far had not pursued Thomas, given that his father, the Earl of Simmons, was so highly regarded among the ton. Rumor had it that Chalmers was going to ignore the incident as a prank, although he was more likely overlooking it in the hope that his embarrassment would soon be forgotten and he could continue to associate with the upper echelons of society.

  The ballroom was already crowded when she and her father arrived but it only took a moment before Louisa caught sight of Rebecca twirling around the dance floor with the second son of the Earl of Danbury. She stood to the side so she could intercept Rebecca when the dance ended and hoped her friend would spend some time with her so she would not feel so self-conscious all on her own.

  The reel ended and Louisa saw Rebecca curtsy to her dance partner before heading in her direction. She waved and the two managed to meet in a quiet corner of the room.

  “You appeared to enjoy Lord Danbury’s company,” Louisa said to her friend. “And I dare say you make a handsome couple. You would have beautiful children.”

  Rebecca feigned shock. “You naughty thing!” The two giggled, then stifled their laughter behind gloved hands when the matron shot them a disapproving glance.

  Rebecca’s gaze was drawn over Louisa’s shoulder and Louisa looked at her questioningly as Rebecca’s eyes widened.

  “Good evening, Miss Bramick.”

  Louisa turned her head to find the Duke standing behind her, his hands clasped behind his back. He was particularly handsome dressed in his evening attire and Louisa thought her legs would give out, her knees feeling like jelly. Her eyes roamed upward until they met with his. For what felt like a long moment, but was likely only a second, they just stared at one another, both silent. A flutter of anticipation flooded her chest.

  “Your Grace,” she answered, nodding her head to break the connection, and dipping into a curtsy. Around them, one or two of the matrons started to take notice of their interaction, their heads together in whispers.

  “Miss Bramick, may I have this dance?” he asked louder than he normally might have, holding out his hand to her. “I confess you are looking lovelier than usual tonight,” he added in a softer tone.

  “You flatter me, Your Grace,” she responded. He smirked at her, and she nearly swooned. “I would be honored to dance with you, Your Grace.” She placed her gloved hand in his, and he led her to the dance floor, taking their positions.

  Louisa felt as if she were in a dream as they whirled around the dance floor, the Duke as nimble and graceful as he was imposing and masculine. She tilted her head back and her eyes met his. She smiled in delight as she enjoyed this moment as if they were in a private world. All eyes were on them but to Louisa, no one else was there.

  As the dance ended, Louisa breathlessly curtsied in thanks for the enchanting dance. She held no further expectations but saw this dance as his way of telling her that all was forgiven. That he had no intention of exposing her secret, her deception. And that was enough for her. She straightened and turned to return to the perimeter of the dance floor when Grayson caught her wrist. She returned her gaze to his and saw the twinkle in his eye.

  “Might I be so bold as to request another dance, Miss Bramick.” He was grinning now and winked at her.

  There was a collective gasp from the room as all eyes stared at the Duke of Montrose leading Louisa Bramick onto the dance floor for a waltz, their second dance of the evening. The second dance of the season with the Duke of Montrose for any lady.

  Chapter 12

  Louisa stirred dreamily in bed as her eyes caught the ray of sunlight through the window. It took a moment for her to comprehend that the previous evening had not been a dream, but reality. By the end of the evening, she had actually danced with the Duke of Montrose a third time causing a stir among the ton as the speculation began that he was announcing his intentions for her through his actions.

  The only damper on the evening had come from her father who was convinced that the Duke was merely setting Louisa up for further disgrace. After her third dance with the Duke, the final dance of the ball, and with all the tongues wagging, the Baron Grimsey had shuffled Louisa out of the hall hastily and ushered her to their carriage.

  “That man is a scoundrel, daughter,” the Baron said as they rode home. “He ruined me and insulted you. Why, he had the audacity to demand your virtue as a wager in a game of cards!”

  Louisa bit her tongue, not wishing to remind her father that he was the one who offered her hand in that same game. She had not disclosed to her father the news that Thomas and Rebecca had revealed that Grayson had actually intended to return her father’s lost land and money, nor that Harrison Tremble had told Thomas that the Duke was smitten with her, because she did not know the Duke’s current intentions or state of mind. Upon arriving home, Louisa went directly to bed, not want to further ruin her good mood with her father’s ramblings. And as delightful as the evening was, there was a small niggling doubt at the back of her mind that her father was right.

  She stretched and climbed out of bed, washing with the fresh water her maid had set on the dresser, and dressed in a simple day dress before languidly descending the staircase to find some breakfast.

  “Has my father had breakfast yet?” she asked Mrs. Harris, the housekeeper.

  “Yes, Miss,” she said. “He has gone to town and said not to expect him to return for several hours.

  “I shall take some tea and scones in the parlor then,” Louisa directed. She would read in peace and perhaps catch up with some embroidery work she was doing.

  Just as Louisa had settled on the settee with her book, the butler announced that she had a guest. He seemed a bit apprehensive to show the guest into the parlor, given that the Baron was not at home, but the Duke of Montrose did not wait for an invitation as he pushed his way into the parlor, dismissing the man. The butler looked at Louisa questioningly.

  “Thank you, Andrews, that will be all,” said Louisa, confirming that he should give her and the Duke some privacy.

  The Duke bowed and took her hand as Louisa curtsied.

  “Miss Bramick.”

  “Your Grace.”

  She searched his face for some hint of his thoughts but his placid demeanor revealed nothing.

  “I want to apologize, Miss Bramick, if I caused you any embarrassment last evening. I understand from Harrison that speculation is rampant among the ton because we danced three times.”

  Louisa’s heart sank. He was here to tell her that the three dances they shared were insignificant, that they were in no way meant to declare his honorable intentions towards her. She stood still, a clammy feeling coming over her and she hoped she could maintain her composure until he departed. She said nothing, for fear that her voice would shake and she would not be able to contain a sob.

  “It was wrong of me to make such a public spectacle …,” he continued, but she held up a hand and interrupted him, unable to listen to his apology.

  “You need say no more, Your Grace,” she said, struggling to control her emotions. “I understand. Please go.” She bowed her head and looked at her feet, hoping he would withdraw swiftly so she did not have to meet his eyes, lest he see the tears forming in hers.

  Grayson looked at her, puzzled. “Louisa,” he said gently. “I have come to as
k your father’s permission to pay my addresses. I wanted to apologize to you, and him, for not following the proper protocol when I asked you to dance. It was insensitive and inappropriate of me.”

  “You wh…?” Louisa was speechless. All the emotion she was holding in would not be contained and the tears that a few moments ago betrayed her grief now rolled down her cheeks in a release of tension.

  “I never imagined a lady would cry at the thought of marrying me,” he said with a smile.

  Louisa’s hands flew to her face as she burst into laughter mixed with tears and came forward to him. He reached out and pulled her against him, reveling in the fact that she was in his arms. It was highly improper for them to be in this embrace, but he frankly didn’t give a damn. Yet he sensed she was distressed rather than happy.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked. “Have a misread your feelings for me? Do you not wish to marry?”

  Louisa pulled back and looked at the man who had turned her world upside down. “Oh yes, Your Grace, I do wish to marry you. I am worried about my father. Whether he will give permission. He still thinks you to be quite the scoundrel.”

  Grayson laughed heartily and Louisa scowled at him for ridiculing her feelings.

  “My darling Louisa,” he said, his voice consoling and gentle. “First, perhaps you should call me Grayson rather than Your Grace if I am to be your husband.” He smiled. “Second, I shall speak to your father. I am certain that I can win him over and resolve our differences. After all, we have the same interest. We both love you and want to see you happy.”

  Louisa blushed and melted in his arms once again. Grayson swallowed hard and leaned down, kissing her passionately. He felt her initial shock against his mouth, then her lips melted into his and he was lost in the sensation of kissing her. Her arms wound around his neck, and he pulled her flush against him, her softness pressing against his hard planes. A fire erupted in his core and was overcome with passion, unable to control his desire. They would soon be man and wife, and while he would never defile her before their wedding night, he could not resist touching her and giving her a taste of what was to come.

  With deft fingers, he worked the buttons on the back of her dress, undoing just enough to pull the neckline down and expose her creamy flesh above her shift. His moist lips left her mouth and pressed to her neck. His tongue tickled the skin as he ran it lower, stopping before he reached the heaving mound of her breast, teasing.

  “Grayson,” she gasped as his fingers dove into her gown and he touched her bare skin. With a groan he leaned down and captured her lips with his again, this time plunging his tongue deep into her mouth, embracing her with one hand while his other tentatively cupped her breast, brushing her bare nipple with his thumb, working her into a frenzy. She moaned against his lips, meeting his tongue with her own, wanting to reach out and touch his hardness, yet afraid.

  “Get the hell away from my daughter!”

  Grayson stumbled back at the sound of the Baron’s angry voice, turning to see him in the doorway, his face mottled red. Louisa gasped and tugged at her gown, setting her dress to right the best she could as Grayson stepped in front of her to shield her from her father’s glare.

  “This is not what you think, Baron,” Grayson said firmly. “I am here with honorable intentions.”

  “Damn you!” the Baron exclaimed, staggering into the room, alcohol on his breath despite the early hour of the day. “How dare you seduce my daughter with your vile nature!”

  “Father, please,” Louisa begged from behind Grayson, her voice shaking. “’Tis not how it appears. We are to be married.”

  “Like hell you are,” her father fired back, his voice shaking.

  Grayson held up his hands in surrender to try to diffuse the situation. “Baron, let us sit down and discuss this. I care about your daughter and would like your permission to marry her. You and I have had our differences but I never intended to do you or Louisa any harm. I can explain everything.”

  “There will be no explanation!” the Baron shouted, reaching into his pocket and brandishing a small gun. Louisa gasped as Grayson stepped in front of her, keeping her covered with his body. Though he was sure the Baron would never hurt his daughter, instinctively he could not risk her safety.

  “You, you have ruined a woman for the last time!”

  “Father, no!” Louisa cried out as the gun went off and Grayson felt a warm sting as the smell of gunpowder filled the air.

  Chapter 13

  Louisa felt as if she was watching the scene in slow motion. Her father with a gun. Grayson attempting to shield her with his body. The fire of the bullet leaving the barrel of the gun. In an instant, Louisa’s heart stopped. Then, the reality of the situation came rushing back, and she was thrust back into the present.

  The Baron dropped the smoking gun out of his grasp, the gun falling to the floor as he stared at them both, surprise and dread filling his face. He buried his head in his hands, sunk to the floor beside the discarded gun, his body shaking in convulsions as he sobbed loudly, “I’m sorry, my Louisa, I’m so sorry.”

  Grayson turned quickly to Louisa to check that she was alright. She searched his eyes to ascertain what had occurred. He was still standing before her. He had not been hit, save for some stray backfire that had singed his skin.

  “The gun misfired,” Grayson said to Louisa. “Go to your father. I’m sorry, Louisa. It is my fault the he is in this state. Take care of him and we shall sort all of this out when he has slept it off.” He gave her a reassuring embrace, kissed her on the cheek, and left the parlor just as Andrews entered, having heard the gunshot.

  “Help me get him to his room,” Louisa said to Andrews. They lifted the Baron to his feet and Louisa spoke softly into his ear. “It is all going to be alright, father.”

  The Baron sat in his garden with the sun on his face, a blanket over his knees. A shadow moved toward him but he could not quite make out the person’s identity for the position of the sun. Once she was standing directly in front of him, he smiled.

  “Baron,” the Duchess of Montrose sat down next to him on the white wrought iron garden bench. “You look well.”

  “Duchess,” he said. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit.”

  “I have come to tell you a story,” she said. She looked directly into the Baron’s mournful eyes. She understood the grief she saw there. It took similar grief to recognize it in others.

  The Baron remained quiet but attentive so the Duchess continued. “My father, as you know, was a Marquis and had a very antagonistic relationship with the former Duke of Montrose, my husband’s father. He believed the Duke had stolen twenty acres of farmland from our property by bribing the county magistrate to change the official property boundaries.

  “My father had also promised me to the Earl of Rochester’s eldest son who was two years my senior. But I had met and fallen head of heels in love with the Duke’s eldest son, who was far too old for me. At least, my father thought so. He forbid me from seeing him.

  “But we would not be deterred. We were in love and knew we were meant to be together. My father threatened to send me away to the country if I did not comply with his orders. As a headstrong young woman, I did not obey him, but continued to see my true love on the sly.”

  The Baron could see where this was going but let her continue.

  “When my father caught us in an embrace, he became enraged. He grabbed his pistol — my father was a military man, and his weapon was never far from his side. Well, you know the outcome, but perhaps you never knew why my husband used a cane and walked with a limp.

  “I loved my family, but I was forced to choose between them and my future husband. You know the choice I made. From that day forward, I never spoke to my father again. He never forgave me, nor I him. Is that what you want for you and Louisa?”

  There were tears in the Baron’s eyes as Louisa and Grayson approached them. Grayson looked at his mother and nodded his gratitude. Words did not
need to be spoken at that moment. There would be plenty of time for explanations, apologies and restitution.

  The Duchess stood and Louisa took the seat beside her father, and placed her head on his shoulder. He patted her hands in his lap and told her that he only wanted her to be happy, as happy as he and her mother had been.

  “I know, father,” she said softly. “I love him.”

  Epilogue

  One Month Later . . .

  Grayson straightened his snowy white cravat with his fingers, pushing the diamond stickpin through the center before stepping back and studying his attire with a critical eye. He wanted everything to be perfect.

  “You do not look like a man who is about to walk into marriage,” Harrison remarked as he entered the small room of the church where the wedding guests were starting to file in.

  Grayson grinned and turned to his oldest friend. “And how should a man who is about to be married look?”

  Harrison grinned. “I cannot say with full certainty, but most I’ve seen do not look as pleased as you do at this moment.”

  Grayson clasped his hands behind his back. “Well, I am very pleased about this day.” Louisa was the light of his world, the person he wanted to see every morning and the one he wanted in his bed every evening. And tonight, well, he could not wait to have her in his arms.

  A clearing of the throat caused him to look toward the door. The Baron stood there in his wedding finery. Harrison bowed and exited the room, leaving the two men facing one another. “Baron,” Grayson addressed him, giving a nod.

  “Your Grace,” the Baron replied, apology still in his eyes. Even after a month’s time, Grayson knew the older man still felt ashamed for all that had happened. “Tis a happy day for both families.”