“It’s the only thing to do,” she continued. For the first time in possibly ever, Griffith felt unable to speak.
“We are clearly attracted to one another,” she pointed out. “Also, neither one of us wants to get married, so there is no danger of a continuing relationship. We can give in to our attraction in the most logical way with neither one of us getting hurt.”
It sounded so reasonable, how she put it. So naturally he wanted to object, since the last thing he ever aspired to be was reasonable.
But if it got him into her bed—and her into his—he’d swallow his objections, no matter how reasonable they were.
“How would this work?” he said. He was pleased he could manage to utter a complete sentence, given how startled and intrigued and, of course, aroused he was.
“Are you saying you don’t know how it works?” She spoke in a teasing tone, and he felt even more flustered.
“Not that,” he said through his clenched jaw. This woman was the only person who had managed to get under his skin, for both good and bad.
He had the strange suspicion that it would take more than an affair to get over his obsession with her.
“Ah, I had thought your skills particularly . . . persuasive,” she said in a low, knowing voice.
He resisted the urge to preen.
“But as to your question.” She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, not as though she was suggesting anything shocking at all. “I suppose we will look for Mr. Wattings, get you accepted into Society—as we’d agreed to—and we can also add a physical relationship to our agreement. It is that simple, there isn’t much to it working. It either is pleasing to us both, or it isn’t. If it’s the latter, then no hard feelings.” She stuck her hand out between them and he took it, allowing her to shake on the bargain. Another bargain on top of the first one.
This one was far more compelling.
The coach slowed, and she glanced out the window, her face lighting up at whatever she saw out there. Well, he knew it wasn’t another gentleman; her desperate kiss had made it more than apparent that it had been as long for her as it had been for him, if not longer.
“I will see you at ten o’clock tomorrow,” she commanded as the coachman swung the door open for her to alight. “To hunt for your first mate as well as Sarah’s husband.”
“Good evening, Lady Della,” Griffith replied, but she was out of earshot long before, bounding up the steps to her house in clear excitement.
He saw the ladies peering out from the door; Mrs. Wattings and two small girls. One of them was obviously Mrs. Wattings’s child, while the other one must belong to Lady Della. Or Della, he should think of her; it wouldn’t do to address her so formally when he was about to embark on a clandestine relationship with her.
Unless she wished to be formally addressed: May I ravish you, Lady Della?
You may, my lord Handsome, she might reply in that peremptory tone of hers.
Her proposal was making his being an heir to a dukedom rather than aboard his own ship much more pleasant. Although eventually the affair would pass, and he would be left on shore with responsibilities and steady land under his feet.
Still, it would do for the moment.
“Why do you look like that?” Sarah asked. They had gotten the girls to bed at last—Nora and Emily had peppered Della with questions about the party because parties were not a usual part of their lives.
That hurt. Not so much because she was missing out on the parties, she didn’t care one way or the other, but that her reputation and situation made it impossible to be social. Although the tiny town they’d lived in until about six months ago, Haltwhistle, didn’t have any kind of Society to speak of anyway, so even if Della’s reputation had been pristine, there wouldn’t have been anywhere to go.
They were sitting in the small parlor where they took their afternoon tea. It was cozy, and much more pleasing to Della than her father’s enormous town house.
Or that could be because of all the love and warmth she had here as opposed to what she had felt there.
“Look like what?” Della replied, knowing her friend would not be deterred.
“As though something happened.” Sarah narrowed her eyes as Della tried to repress a reaction. Even though Sarah knew her better than anyone, sometimes better than Della knew herself. “Something did happen! You have to tell me everything.”
Della exhaled and looked away from her friend’s face. “Uh—I might have accidentally kissed Captain Enormous.”
Silence, and then Sarah whacked Della on the arm. “What do you mean, accidentally kissed him? Did you mean to whisper something in his ear and your mouth accidentally collided into his?” Sarah’s voice let Della know that her friend did not actually think that occurred. “Did you like it, at least?”
“Oh yes,” Della said. “It was tremendous.”
Sarah blinked at Della’s enthusiastic tone. “Well. So there is that, at least. Did he like it?”
Della thought about how he had caressed her, how he had kissed her so thoroughly that she still felt the ripples of pleasure flowing through her body. “Yes.”
“And . . . ?” Sarah prodded.
Della winced. “Well, I might have suggested we have an affair.”
Sarah’s sharp inhale was about the reaction she expected. “Good for you!” her friend cheered, which was absolutely not what she had expected.
“Good for me?” Della repeated. She leaned forward to place her palm on Sarah’s forehead. “Are you feeling quite well?”
Sarah swatted her hand away. “I’m not feeling as well as you are, apparently, but yes. I think it’s a wonderful idea. As long as . . .” she said, her words trailing off as she made a vague gesture in the air.
“No, of course not,” Della replied hastily. She did not want to have another child, even if its father was Lord Captain Handsome.
“Then it’s wonderful,” Sarah concluded, settling back in her seat with a smile of satisfaction.
“But why? I mean, shouldn’t you be warning me about doing something so reckless and scandalous?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “As though I could stop you from doing any such thing. You are the most recklessly scandalous person I know, and also the person I love most in this world.” She shrugged. “This adventure will keep you from doing something even more reckless, I imagine.”
Della felt her eyes widen. “What could possibly be more reckless than embarking on an affair with a sea captain–viscount?” She shook her head. “I wish he were just a sea captain. It would make things much simpler.” And might also make it possible for them to have a future together, although she wouldn’t share that judgment with Sarah. If her friend so much as suspected that Della wanted more—not that she did, she assured herself—she would go to extreme lengths to see to Della’s happiness.
But Della knew Society much better than Sarah did, and though they might accept her initially because of the novelty of Lord Stanbury, eventually they would realize that they could not stomach seeing the duke’s most disgraced daughter in a respectable position. It would be a relief to everyone when she and Lord Stanbury revealed that they were no longer engaged.
So their time together would have a very specific end date—namely, when he was comfortable enough in his position not to need a buffer against the young ladies. Or when they grew tired of one another.
But she strongly suspected the former would happen a lot earlier than the latter. She felt a twinge of sadness, but shut that away. She hadn’t even started to have her scandalous affair with him, so she shouldn’t already be mourning its ending.
Perhaps he would end up being a terrible lover?
Although she knew, even as she thought it, that there was no possible way that was the case.
“Griff! Look who is here,” Frederick said as Griffith entered the room that seemed to serve as Frederick’s office and bedroom all at once.
Griffith had been surprised when the butler had told him Frederick was still up and was asking for him. That Clark was here explained all of that.
Clark rose from the sofa, a warm smile on his face. “I tracked you down, and now I find that you’re some sort of lord?” Clark stuck his hand out to Griffith, who took it and shook it vigorously. “Why didn’t you ever say?”
Griffith released Clark’s hand. “Would you have said in my position?”
Clark considered it. “No, I suppose not.”
“Your first mate has been regaling me with stories of your adventures at sea. I didn’t realize you were such a rascal, Griffith.”
Griffith grinned at his cousin. “Sure you did, Fred. Your Grace,” he amended, at which Frederick shook his head. “You were the one who rescued me when we were young.”
“Sit down, sit down,” Frederick commanded. Griffith and Clark both sat on the sofa, Griffith crossing one leg over the other.
“Where did you come from anyway?” Griffith asked Clark. “I went to the docks to see if I could find you, only nobody knew where you’d gone after that pub.”
“No thanks to you.”
“You mean my heir left you on your own without a word?” Frederick demanded, his eyes glinting with humor.
Griffith had missed his cousin. Even though being with him required being on dry land.
“He did, Your Grace,” Clark replied, shooting a wry glance toward Griffith. “But I was a bit under the weather at the time, so it wasn’t as though he had much of a choice.”
“Not to mention I was being pulled away by the naval police,” Griffith added. “If it had been possible to stay there until you awoke, Clark, I would’ve.”
“Ah, so that’s when you were arrested.”
“Arrested?” Clark echoed.
Griffith shrugged, shooting a conspiratorial glance toward his cousin. “Arrested because of what happened in Africa, I believe. Once they found out who I was, the charges were dropped.”
“The benefit of Griffith’s position,” Frederick said pointedly.
“Oh,” Clark said. “But if the case did go to court, then you’d have the opportunity to share what terrible things they did over there. Despite all of us being allies.” His face darkened, and Griffith felt the injustice of it all over again.
“It’d be easier to enact change if you’re in a position of power,” Frederick added.
The only solace to his current situation was that as a duke he might be able to address some of the problems with far more effectiveness than as a renegade captain.
“Well, since you won’t be heading out to sea again, my lord, would you mind writing me a letter of recommendation?”
Griffith shook his head. “No.”
Clark leaned forward, his expression confused. “No?”
“No, because I want you to come work for me as my valet or secretary or whatever it is you think you’d like to do.”
Clark’s face cleared, and it was obvious the notion pleased him. “Yes, absolutely! I have no obligation to the Royal Navy as of the moment we came ashore.” He grinned. “As long as I don’t have to climb rigging any longer.”
“There is a scarcity of rigging involved in being a duke,” Frederick said dryly.
Griffith took a deep breath. His friend, his closest friend for the past five years, would be on hand for him to talk to. To work out just what this new life might mean. It had only been a few days, but he’d felt strangled with all this new responsibility. Not knowing what to do, or how to do it.
Clark’s presence would help that, even though Clark had no idea how to be a nobleman either. As far as Griffith recalled, Clark came from a family of turnip farmers or something.
“Well, as your new employee, I shouldn’t be sitting in this fancy room as though we were all the same,” Clark said as he sprang up from his seat.
Griffith winced. “No, the whole point is that we are the same.”
“Except that you have a title and will own more land than my family has ever seen,” Clark replied.
“He is not wrong,” Frederick commented.
“Be quiet, both of you,” Griffith replied, glancing from one to the other. “And sit down, Clark.”
Clark sat, a grin on his face.
“Fred, if you expect me to be the kind of duke that sits around musing on his own importance, you might want to reconsider asking me to stay. Because I won’t do that.”
Frederick smiled. “I know you won’t. What I do know is that I’ll be leaving the title in good hands when I am gone.”
When I am gone. Fred spoke so matter-of-factly, as if his dying wasn’t something to be feared. Perhaps it wasn’t, since it was obvious that the event had been coming, and had been foreseen, for a long time now.
“And if he does get to musing,” Clark added, “I’ll knock him over the head.”
Frederick’s smile widened. “Excellent.” He paused. “But not too hard, or we’ll be out another duke. You don’t have a child somewhere about to inherit, do you?” he said, addressing Griffith.
Griffith swallowed. “Uh—no.” A good reminder that since he was planning on taking Lady Della up on her offer, he had to ensure that his answer remained accurate. He’d have to ask Clark to figure out where one might go to purchase some discreet items.
Likely his first mate wouldn’t anticipate “find out where to buy condoms” as one of his first on-shore duties.
“So not too hard, then,” Frederick admonished Clark.
“Aye, aye, Your Grace,” Clark replied.
“Bring the decanter over, Mr. Clark,” Frederick said. “Let’s have a toast to our new situations.”
“Your cousin, has he always been ill?”
Griffith and Clark had spent another hour with Frederick, swapping stories of life aboard ship as Frederick listened, his face alit with curiosity and excitement.
Now they were upstairs in Griffith’s bedroom, a room at least five times larger than his captain’s berth.
“He was fine when I left,” Griffith replied. His hands reached up to his cravat, only to have Clark swat them away.
“That’s my job now.”
“So you want to be my valet?” Griffith asked, lifting his chin so Clark could more easily undo the fabric around his neck.
Clark shrugged. “I’ll be both valet and secretary, at least until we figure out what either job is. If that’s all right with you, my lord,” he added in an obsequious tone.
Griffith glowered, at which Clark laughed. He bowed, then stepped in front of the wardrobe and began to open various drawers.
“What are you looking for?” Griffith asked.
Clark turned to regard him. “Well, I see some clothing here—yours, judging by the size—but you don’t have any of your own items here, as far as I can tell. Should I send to the ship for them?”
Griffith nodded. “Yes, thank you. I—things have happened so quickly I forgot.”
What with being hauled off to prison, just as suddenly released, and then made heir to a dukedom.
“And I’ll need to send an official letter to the Royal Navy letting them know I am resigning my commission. I forgot about that too.”
“That is why you need a valet-secretary. Or secretary-valet, I’m not sure of the right sequence of words,” Clark said with a grin.
It was good to have his friend around. He hadn’t realized just how off he’d felt being on his own. Was that why he was so interested in Lady Della? Because he was lonely?
No, you idiot. It’s because she’s intelligent, quick-witted, and beautiful. You’d be interested in her if all of London was standing in one ballroom, and she was on the other side.
Not to mention, it appeared she was as interested in him, which couldn’t help but increase his own interest.
“What are you thinking about?” Clark’s question snapped him out of his reverie.
“Uh—” Griffith began, only to have Clark raise an eyebrow and look him straight in the eye. Difficult, since Clark was so much shorter than Griffith was.
Griffith admired his friend’s dexterity.
“Out with it. What are you doing? What are you planning on doing?”
He never could keep a secret from his first mate, could he?
“Well, there is a lady.”
Clark’s expression cleared. “Oh, is that all? I should have expected that.”
Griffith wanted to bristle at Clark’s easy acceptance, and his implication that Lady Della was just another of his passing fancies.
Even though she was, by her own definition. And they hadn’t done anything but kiss yet. And he’d stroked her breast, which it seemed she thoroughly enjoyed.
He felt as he did when he had first noticed the opposite sex; how could one sharp, beautiful woman set him so askew? As though he were half his age and desperate for notice?
He would have to remind himself of his own skill in matters of passion when he actually got to touch her. Or she’d be disappointed in his quick . . . resolution.
“Do you need anything else, my lord?” Clark said, a sly gleam in his eyes. “Should I help you dress for bed?”
Griffith grabbed a pillow off the bed and flung it at Clark, who dodged it easily, laughing.
“I take that as a no. If you will excuse me? I’ll just go to my room.”
“Good evening, Clark.”
“Good evening, my lord,” Clark said as he left the room.
Leaving Griffith alone to recall the kiss, and the proposal she’d made, and imagining just how delicious she would taste.
If it weren’t close to midnight, he’d be tempted to walk over to her house right now to take her up on the offer. Perhaps she’d already be in bed, all sleepy and rumpled, and he could curl up alongside her, rousing her gently with his mouth and hands.
But—damn it!—he knew he could not do that, and now he had a massive cockstand and only his own hand to take care of it.
But soon. Soon he would be able to thrust inside her, to bring her to release, to ravish her thoroughly so that both of them would be left in a boneless heap.
He couldn’t wait.