Page 4 of My Dark Duke

Better a free pauper, than a servant to that fiend, she told herself, as she pulled her shawl tight against the February wind.

But as she made her way back to her lodgings, she was ashamed to find that the memory of Thorncastle's eyes possessively traversing her body, warmed her insides and protected her from the worst of the chill.

CHAPTER TWO

YOUR REPUTATION DOESnot do you service...

Sebastian Frederick Waldo Beaufort, Sixth Duke of Thorncastle, frowned as he recalled—not for the first time—the parting words of Miss Mary Smith.

He had oft been accused of a lack of conscience, but today his heretofore missing morals had made themselves known to him.

He had been a cad to flirt so outrageously with the prim Miss Smith. And worse, he had thoroughly enjoyed flustering her.

Sebastian had known many women during his three and thirty years—his reputation as a rake could attest to that—but he had never stooped from his self-set limits and dallied with an innocent.

Which, he knew instinctively, Miss Smith was.

Now, his mind wandered down dangerous paths, as he imagined all of the things he would like to do with the strait-laced vicar's housekeeper. Primitive desire stirred in his belly, as he thought on how—should he pursue his urges—he might be the first man to lay claim to Miss Smith's delectable curves. How pleasurable it would be, to introduce the young lady to the world of lovemaking. To instruct her. To command her. To take her completely.

Get it together, man, Sebastian scolded himself, as he attempted to focus on sorting through the pages of correspondence on his desk. Justforget her. His conscience now prodded him most sharply and Sebastian was not at all taken by the feeling of guilt it produced.

What need is there for guilt, a wicked voice whispered in Sebastian's ear.You do not want her for a quick tumble in the hay, you want her for your mistress.

Sebastian lay the quill he held in his hand down upon the table as he considered it. Miss Smith had applied for a position in his household, one which paid well enough, but not outlandishly by any stretch of the imagination. If he wished to offer her another position, one which might gift her wealth and status, was that such a bad thing?

I would rather be bored than a whore...

Again, Miss Smith's dulcet tones echoed through Sebastian's memory. As did the defiant way she had tilted her chin and the flash of anger in her emerald eyes.

Spirit is something one looks for in a horse, Sebastian reminded himself sternly,not in a mistress. He had a stable full of hot-blood Arabs, whom he could attempt to tame into submission if that was what he desired. He had never had to battle for submission in the bedroom, for most women came to him quite willingly.

Perhaps this was the problem, Sebastian mused, giving up all pretense at getting any work done and resting back in his chair. All of his previous mistresses, though beautiful and accomplished lovers, had been too compliant. Too eager to shower him with affection and pleasure.

What he needed, he decided, was a challenge. And the sweet but steely Miss Smith, might be just the thing.

Though his conscience roared in protest, Sebastian found his hand—almost of its own volition—had reached for the bell.

"Higgins," Sebastian drawled, as the young footman entered the library. "I have a task for you."

"Yes, your Grace," the lad nodded. "Of course, your Grace."

"I will need you to discover the whereabouts of Miss Smith, who visited here this morning."

Higgins blinked, as his cheeks slowly flushed. No doubt the lad had witnessed Miss Smith storm out like a tempest, and now his young mind was adding two and two together. Given Sebastian's reputation, there was no doubt the lad suspected his master's interests in the beautiful Miss Smith were far from noble—and he was correct.

"She mentioned that she was sent by an employment agency, run by a fellow called Fortesque," Sebastian continued, opening a drawer in his mahogany desk and taking out a coin purse. "Be a good lad and run along and see if this Mr Fortesque might be kind enough to furnish you with Miss Smith's address."

Sebastian took a handful of coins from the purse and proffered them at the footman, who rushed forth and pocketed the coin.

"Money might help to lubricate Mr Fortesque's memory if you find it rusting," Sebastian added with a wink. "Though keep some for yourself, my lad; whatever amount you deem is a suitable price for your silence on this matter."

"Yes, your Grace," the footman beamed, before hastily rearranging his expression into passivity, as was befitting of his station.

"Off you go." Sebastian dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "I want you straight back here once you are done. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, your Grace," the lad parroted again, before turning on his heel and dashing for the door.

The young man would, no doubt, take his time, Sebastian thought with a grin. It was rare that a servant had coin in his pocket and time which did not need to be accounted for, and Sebastian guessed he might take a detour or two before setting out to find Mr Fortesque.

---