Desperate and Daring 01 - Desperate and Daring (10 page)

“Heather doesn’t want to be found, my naïve little angel, and neither do you. I suggest you quiet down lest you want to be compromised by a rake like me. I’m very good in a compromising situation, I’ll have you know.” He smiled, but he sensed only frigid dislike from her.

“I’d rather eat rotten pig intestines,” Anabelle said in mock sweetness.

Draven took his hand off the knob and slipped the key into his pocket. “I can’t let you join Heather. You might interrupt a very intimate moment.”

“That is absurd.”

“Is it? Are you completely blind or just selectively.”

“I know naught of what you speak.”

“Foolishly then. Heather and Calder—”

“It’s Miss Everly to you,” Anabelle said testily.

“—Miss Everly,” Draven stressed the word, “is at this moment, wrapped in the arms of one overly large steward.” His words were punctuated by a feminine gasp from his angel. He paused on that thought.
His angel
? He shook his head and picked up where he left off. “Have you really not noticed the sparks between them?”

“Sparks?” Anabelle said in disbelief.

“Like a lit fuse, my dear, and things are about to explode.”

“Very poetic, my lord,” Anabelle said dryly.

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t—never mind. I will admit that I have noticed the peculiar attention that Mr. Calder pays to Heather, but for the life of me I cannot believe that she would return his affections.”

“Why, because he is a mere steward? You are a veritable snob. Well done.”

Anabelle turned away from him. “I no longer wish to speak with you. Please hold your tongue until we are able to leave this room.

“Lady Anabelle, my angel. Why waste such an opportune moment to further our acquaintance? I know you’ve been thinking about our yet to be had kiss.”

Anabelle resisted the bait and kept her back to him, mouth tightly closed, but then she felt his hand slide around her waist. She bolted away from him. “I pray you keep to yourself, my lord. I do not want to scream, but I shall if needed. If what you say is true, my dear friend and Mr. Calder are both nearby and they will come to my aid. I trust him to be a far more honorable man than you.”

Draven stepped back in surprise. He was taken aback. Many have slurred his name, but never had anyone actually faulted his honor. “I do believe if you were a man I’d call you out, Lady Anabelle.”

“And if I were a man, Lord Draven, I would accept your challenge, meet you at dawn, and put a bullet through your stone heart.”

Ouch. “I dare say we’ve come to an impasse. No longer do I wish to kiss you.”

“I am all the better for it, I assure you.”

“You are not—in fact, all the better for it. One kiss from me and you would have never needed another reason to dream. One kiss from me and the stars would sing behind your eyes, your heart would flutter inside you like a hummingbird before a succulent flower, your—never mind. Clearly, I am wasting my breath with one such as you. Your beauty may be radiant now, but in time, you will wilt as all women do without the benefit of the kind of love making only men like me can give. Forever remain an angel, Lady Anabelle, but know that there is a steep cost.

“You are repulsive,” Anabelle spat.

Draven stepped closer and handed her the key. “Go on. I’ve grown tedious of this little pseudo tryst. Try not to scald your eyes with the sins currently being committed in the conservatory.”

“Heather wouldn’t—”

“So innocent.” Draven shook his head. “If you could only know what happens between two people in the moment.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“I fear you will never know, and it almost saddens me,” Draven admitted.

Anabelle bit her lip. “What moment? What do you mean?”

Draven considered it for a moment. He stepped forward, close enough to make her uncomfortable, but hopefully, if he could still trust his senses, he could give her the tiniest of tastes of what she would ultimately never have. “The moment, when your eyes meet, when your breath catches. The moment when you will sell your soul for a single touch, a single kiss. Nothing will stop you. Nothing will tame you. It’s a fever, a curse, but for that moment, it’s everything you want and need. Not everyone will experience this, you most certainly won’t, but for someone like me, and now Miss Everly and Mr. Calder, there is nothing outside the two of them. That is the moment. Do you even understand?

Anabelle shook her head.

“I didn’t think so,” Draven said with disappointment. “I wish I could show you. I want to badly. But, I won’t, not unless you ask me to.”

“I won’t,” she uttered quietly.

Draven moved just a hairs’ breadth closer. He could feel it now, the tension. She didn’t pull away. Perhaps now she had some inkling of what he spoke. “Do you feel that?”

She shook her head weakly.

“Don’t deny it. Is your pulse quickening? Is your skin warming with the anticipation of being touched?” Her mouth dropped open slightly and a huff of breath escaped her. Draven never knew such triumph. She was not immune to him. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath. He swallowed hard, on the verge of temptation and certain destruction.

“Leave, Anabelle. Get out while you can.” He stepped back. It was like ripping hair from his skin. She jerked back as well, fumbled with the key, and as quick as a shadow, she slipped away. Draven closed his eyes and waited. He waited for the roar of desire to cease in his ears.

*

Heather looked up as Fallon tenderly looked down at her. They were both awash in silvery blue light. She came up on her toes, desperately seeking his lips with her own. One, two, three sweeps of his mouth, and then he pulled away. Heather clung to him.

“I was so wrong, Heather. I am the villain in this story. I sought something of which I had no right.

“We both did.”

“I don’t regret what I feel. I only regret that I put you in such a predicament. I never meant to hurt you.”

Heather nodded and wiped away a stray tear. “Nor I you. What will you do? Will you find a new position?”

Fallon blinked. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m sorry,” Heather said quickly. “Not only did I ruin my family’s future, I ruined yours as well.”

“Don’t say that. You could never ruin anything. You make the world better by simply existing. I wish things were so different, that we could have met differently.”

“I very much wish that, too,” Heather said. She was sure her heart was in her eyes.

“Heather,” he said gruffly.

“Don’t say anything more, Fallon. This is already too hard. I have to marry the duke if he will have me. It doesn’t matter how my heart wishes otherwise. There was a time long ago when…” She couldn’t say it. It hurt too much. She wanted him to know that there was a time her family wasn’t crushed by debt, and she could have married him. She could have been a wife of a modest household, a stewards wife—his wife. But that time was gone. There was no possibility now. She would only drag him into the gutter with her.

“We both know what the world is like. This is the way it has to be.”

Fallon swallowed and nodded. “I know, Heather. You will have your duke. You will see your sisters marry well. You will see your mother spend her remaining years in every comfort she could ever need.” He hugged her tightly again, brushing his lips across hers one last time, and then letting her go. “Goodnight, Heather.”

She exhaled painfully. Her breath shivered out of her slowly and achingly. “Goodnight, Fallon.” She stepped away from him then and turned towards the door. Each step felt heavier than the last, but somehow, she found herself outside the conservatory, and Anabelle was standing there.

“I…”

Anabelle just shook her head, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I’ll tell your mother you’ve retired with a headache from the champagne.” She stepped forward and caught Heather’s hand, squeezing it affectionately. Heather nodded and they parted, Heather went up the back stairs and Anabelle back the way they had come.

The following morning was dreary and grey. The few who were awake, Lord and Lady Endervale, Lord Draven and Rigsby, were taking coffee in the breakfast parlor. Fallon joined them. He was bleary eyed and dog tired from a restless night of tossing and turning. He needed to speak with Lord and Lady Endervale alone, but that seemed an impossibility as soon as he stepped in the room. He was about to retreat, but Lord Endervale, who seemed still inebriated, beckoned him in. Fallon greeted everyone politely, but avoided looking directly at Draven. He already felt violent towards the man.

“Sit down, Calder. I wish to hear more of your duke. When will he arrive?” Lord Endervale said far too jovially. It was in stark contrast to the flagging energies of the other guests.

“That is something I wished to speak with you about, my lord. If we could speak privately in your Study?”

“Nonsense!” Lord Endervale punctuated this with a belch.

“I hope nothing is amiss?” Lady Endervale spoke.

“No, my lady, but I would very much like to speak to both of you privately.”

Rigsby looked uncomfortable, but Draven—damn him, looked as sharp as a knife and very interested in whatever Fallon had to say. “I will happily await you outside your Study.” Fallon tried again and stood, leaving them no room to refuse him. As he turned to exit, a servant arrived and bent to Lord Endervale’s ear.

“Who in bloody hell is Mr. Faegan?” Lord Endervale said belligerently.

Fallon froze where he stood and slowly turned. He could feel the color leech from his face but said nothing. Behind him, the scuffle of footsteps heralded the arrival of another. Fallon fought the urge to roll his shoulders as the feeling of cold shards of ice slithered between his shoulder blades. It was a feeling that heralded impending trouble.

“Your grace, I hope I haven’t arrived at an inopportune time,” a familiar voice said behind him.

All eyes turned to the new guest in confusion, all except a steely grey pair that looked mildly amused. Fallon exhaled slowly to regain his self-control. He pivoted slowly until he faced the new arrival. “Damn it, Faegan. I told you to wait until I sent for you,” he said calmly, if a tad cold.

“Yes, sir, but they needed the room for a poor widow and her six wee ones. I knew you would understand. I’ve eagerly awaited your summons now that my ankle is healed. I would have sent word, but I could have just as easily come myself.” Faegan shrugged.

Fallon tried to summon the anger needed, but he could never manage it with Faegan. “It’s fine. Let’s discuss this more in my room.” Fallon took a step.

“Hold on a bloody moment,” Lord Endervale broke in. “What the devil is going on here?”

Fallon’s shoulders drooped in defeat for a split second, and then he straightened to his full height, turned to face the other occupants, and introduced himself. “The Duke of Ablehill, at your service.” He bowed cheekily.

“I knew it,” Draven said smugly.”

“You knew it? How could you have known it?” Lady Endervale suddenly came alive with indignation. “I know everything about everyone, but I didn’t know.” Her words faltered as she came around the table, examining Fallon like an unknown beast. “How could you possibly be the duke? The Duke of Ablehill is known throughout the world as quite advanced in years.”

Fallon blinked slowly in exasperation. He didn’t have time for this. “The duke of fable that everyone is so enamored with died a year ago. I am his son, ergo, the new Duke of Ablehill.”

“Ablehill had a son?” Lord Endervale said in wonder.

“Not one he cared to know,” Fallon snapped off before he pulled himself together. “I must meet with my steward now.” He turned to leave.

“Good god, man, but why?” Rigsby said in bafflement.

Fallon halted at the door and spared him a glance over his shoulder. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why would you masquerade as a steward, your grace?” Rigsby clarified sheepishly.

“Because he can, I’d assume,” Draven answered with growing mirth.

Fallon continued to the door followed by Faegan.

“I will never trust a handsome steward again!” Lady Endervale shrieked.

Draven’s dark laughter followed Fallon into the hall. Like a wildfire, his identity would spread though out the house in minutes. Everything he had hoped to do before speaking with Heather was pointless now. Time was taken from him, and he had a feeling Heather might be, too.

Faegan apologized all the way to his room. Fallon ignored him until they were behind closed doors.

“Enough, Faegan. What’s done is done. All we can do now is minimize the damage I’ve caused.”

“But, sir. I still don’t understand why you pretended to be me?”

“Neither do I. It might very well be one of the biggest mistakes of my life. We must depart for London at once, but first I need to speak with Lady Everly.”

“Yes, sir. Where would you like to meet with her?”

“Lady Endervale has given me the use of her personal parlor. That is probably the best place. I can only hope she will have mercy on me and allow me to marry her daughter.”

Faegan frowned in confusion. “You really intend to marry the chit?”

“She is no mere chit. She is a very special woman.”

Faegan still looked puzzled, but he nodded nonetheless.

They were both startled by a knock on the door. They looked at each other, then Fallon took a chair before the fire, and Faegan rushed to the door.

He opened it, revealing a frazzled and angry mother. Fallon stood at once and bowed low.

“My Lady—”

“Is it true?” she said with the sort of tone that would snap troops into line.

“If you could clarify…”

“Only moments ago my maid woke me to inform me of particularly disturbing news. The steward, whom I entrusted the welfare of my daughter to, is, in fact, a duke, playing us all for fools. It that true?” she barked.

“I—ah, it is true. I am the Duke of Ablehill, my lady, but I swear to you, I never intended to make anyone look the fool.”

“I demand satisfaction.”

Fallon froze. Faegan let out a wheezy gasp.

“Are you challenging me to a duel?” Fallon said in disbelief.

“We were invited here under the pretenses of meeting with the Duke of Ablehill. It was well understood that that meeting was a pretense to an engagement. My daughter
will
marry the Duke of Ablehill. Is that clear?”

Fallon was nodding before she even finished. “Yes, Lady Everly. I have every intention of marrying Heather. In only a moment, I was going to request a meeting with you to discuss that very thing. The last thing I wanted was for my identity to come out like this. I was going to inform you and Heather in person privately and explain everything to your satisfaction. Given the situation now, I would like to invite you and your daughters to come with me to London where I can formally court Heather properly and tame any gossip that may arise from my stupidity.”

Lady Everly nodded succinctly. “Very well. I accept your invitation. But you will have to do your own explaining to Heather this morning.”

“Yes, absolutely. My man will begin the preparations for our immediate departure. When can I see Heather?”

“I will go and wake her. Shall we meet you in a half hour in your Study?”

“That will suffice. Thank you for understanding,” Fallon said with relief.

“It is not for me to understand, your grace. It is Heather who must understand and accept you.”

Fallon took that as a warning and nodded. Faegan held the door for her and then closed it and turned back to him with a grimace. “This Heather of yours sounds fearsome.”

“She’s not mine yet. We can only hope, Faegan.”

*

Heather was obnoxiously roused by her mother from a sleep so deep it could have mirrored death. Violet was grumbling loudly about the intrusion at such an ungodly hour when the strained tone of her mother’s voice finally roused her enough to open her eyes.

“What is the matter?” Heather inched herself up to lean back against the pillows.

The duke is here,” she said without preamble.

Heather’s eyes shot painfully wide. “He is?” Her heart sank.

“Yes, but he has been here all along. I’m glad you are sitting for this, but it seems our dear Mr. Calder is the Duke of Ablehill.”

Heather was speechless. Violet squealed with delight and jumped from the bed.

“This is perfect, this is so amazing! Not an old duke, a young duke! A young, handsome, kind duke. Oh, Heather!” Violet wrapped her arms around her sister with glee.

Heather remained mute and stared at her mother. Her mother was anxiously biting her knuckle and watching Heather.

“Dear? Have you naught to say?”

Heather managed to shake her head with abject disbelief.

“But you must say something.”

“Say hallelujah, nay, sing it!” Violet cried with joy.

“Violet, go see to your sister, and you are not to say a word about any of this to anyone. Do you understand me?”

Violet shrunk under her mother’s glare. “What is the matter?”

“Don’t you see the delicate situation we are in? Bess told me, that means all the servants know, which means the entire house now knows that our Heather spent a great deal of time alone with a duke masquerading as his own employee.”

“This is wonderful news, isn’t it?”

“He lied,” Heather finally said. “He lied to me.”

“There will be an enormous scandal if we don’t take drastic action. His grace has invited us to London where he will formally court Heather. We must tread very carefully.

“Why would he do that?” Heather said painfully. Her chest hurt now. The torrent of tears she had released only last night would now return with a vengeance.

“He must have had a reason. Mr. Calder—I mean, his grace has shown himself to be a very nice man. Can’t you overlook a little lie?” Violet pleaded.

“It was not a little lie,” Heather cried with fury.

“Heather,” her mother walked forward and took her hand, giving it a firm squeeze, “he wishes to speak with you right now. I said he will explain all, and I truly believe it was not done to purposely hurt us. Will you go to him? Despite all that has happened, we still need him. The scandal will ultimately blow over as long as we stand strong against the rumors and pretend everything is as it should be. There is a future to be had from this.”

Heather pulled her hand away. She knew what her mother was saying, she knew what she must do, but inside, her anger and hurt spun like a whirling dervish. She thought she might even lose her composure all over the coverlet. She took a deep breath. The urge to cry was so strong that her eyes felt like they would bulge from their sockets. She nodded stiffly. “I will speak to him.” Her voice sounded far away to her own ears. She slowly slid out of the bed, her limbs heavy and reluctant to move. She swallowed down the anger and tears. Instead, she wanted to face him looking as composed as she could manage. She didn’t want him to know how much he had hurt her. She didn’t say a word to anyone as she washed and dressed, and her mother led her to the Study. They paused before the door, and her mother turned to her and took her hands.

“Given the gravity of the situation, I am going to let you speak with him alone. I want what is best for you, Heather, and I want what is best for our family. I love you.”

Heather nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. She refused to let them fall. She knocked on the door as her mother retreated down the hall. The door opened and Fallon stood there, looking as if nothing had changed.

“Come in, Heather.”

Heather entered, a new wave of anger swiftly washing over her. She clenched her fists in her skirts, but she couldn’t hide her emotions. She was sure her rage was plainly written all over her face. He looked sheepish, but not nearly repentant enough to her mind. She wanted him to beg for her forgiveness.

“There is so much to tell you, and so very little time. I’m afraid we will have to wait to truly talk about all that needs to be said, but for now I wanted to assure you that—”

“How could you, you deceitful wretch? You have humiliated me, ruined me. You’ve destroyed whatever chance my sisters had at an advantageous marriage.”

Fallon looked at her in astonishment for a moment, and then he collected himself. “The moment I touched you, our destinies changed. I had to see what kind of woman would bind herself to a man like my father. But when I saw you, I knew there was more to you than desperation for a title and wealth, and I had to know you, I had to get close to you. There are no rational excuses why, just know that I had to. You were always meant to marry the Duke of Ablehill, Heather. Somewhere, it is written in the stars. I am the same man you came to know, to care for even. I just happen to also be the Duke of Ablehill.”

“But you lied,” Heather said with disdain. “Who are you really?

“My given name is Fallon Derrick Calder. I am the only son of Richard Derrick Calder, seventh Duke of Ablehill. He died a year ago in Italy. I am his sole heir.”

“Why did you lie?” she hissed.