Page 29 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

He meant for it to be a kiss of solace. One to ease her sadness and console her in some small way. He couldn’t imagine what her life had been like before. Part of him understood that she not only grieved for her mother but possibly for her old, familiar life. She’d been thrown into something far different and while she no longer had to worry about starvation, the world she now inhabited in some ways could be as vicious and cruel as the one she’d left behind.

This kiss changed, though. Hunger for her rose, consuming him. One hand moved to the back of her neck, holding her steady so he could deepen the kiss. Immediately, he realized she’d never been kissed before. Especially like this. But she accepted his tongue stroking her, tasting her, and even tentatively answered his call. A shudder ran through him and he brought her against him, holding her more tightly, kissing her as if she were an oasis he’d discovered after many days wandering in the desert. He drank his fill, returning again and again, a secret part of him thrilled that he went where no man had ventured before.

“My stars!” a voice cried out.

Anthony tensed, angry at the interruption. Afraid to see who it was. Wondering if they’d have the decency to walk away and keep quiet. He broke the kiss and relaxed his hold on Laurel though he didn’t release her completely. Turning, he cursed inwardly, seeing the pair of rumormongers who’d raked Laurel over the coals last night. Hot anger filled him, flaring. He knew they would return to the ballroom and spread the news of what they’d seen. That the Duke of Linfield had compromised Lady Laurel at her own come-out ball. Her reputation, already shaky in the eyes of many, would be ruined. She would have no chance of wedding any bachelor in Polite Society.

He couldn’t do that to her. Not to this woman who appeared so strong to the world and yet was incredibly vulnerable. Though she was the total opposite of everything he would have sought in a wife, he owed it to her to save her reputation—by marrying her.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said pleasantly, easing his arms from Laurel but then slipping an arm about her waist and holding her to him, afraid she’d dash off like a hare being chased by hounds. “I apologize for my rash behavior in public. My fiancée just received some news which upset her. A good friend of the St. Clair family, Lord Rutherford, has passed away.”

Anthony watched the two women carefully as they took in not only news of Rutherford’s death but that he and Laurel were engaged. Laurel stiffened, peering up at him. He brushed a kiss against her brow and looked back at the pair.

“The Duke of Everton will be announcing our engagement after supper this evening. Could you please refrain from discussing it until he has done so? Everton would hate for anyone to share the news before he did.”

One woman nodded solemnly, her fear of Everton’s reputation obvious. The other looked to him, her face showing delight in having found them in a compromising situation.

“When will you wed?” the matron challenged.

“This week,” Anthony assured them. “I am not a man to wait. Once I offered for Lady Laurel, I knew we would be eager for the ceremony to take place so that we could start our lives together.” He smiled graciously. “If you’ll excuse us?”

He led Laurel back inside, avoiding the supper room. They came to stop just outside it.

“Are you mad?” she hissed. “We don’t even know each other.”

He shrugged. “Is it so different from othertonmarriages? Couples meet. Dance a few times over the course of a few weeks. Take tea together and possibly ride in Rotten Row or take a carriage through the park. Many an engagement has occurred before a woman even knows the Christian name of her fiancé. It doesn’t mean the marriage cannot be a successful one.”

“What is yours? Your name?”

“Anthony.” He paused. “I know you should call me Linfield in public but in private, I would prefer you use Anthony.”

“Your Grace, this is not—”

“Not what you expected? I’m afraid if we don’t wed, your reputation will be in tatters.”

“Isn’t it already, thanks to people like those two old biddies?” she asked, a touch of bitterness in her voice.

“Is it so very hard to imagine being married to me?” he asked softly.

His words startled her. “No. You are everything unmarried young ladies seek. You are handsome beyond words. A respected war hero. A wealthy duke.”

“Then why your reluctance?”

Her mouth trembled. “Because I feel like a pretender. I’m not truly a part of this world. You shouldn’t have to wed me merely because you offered a kiss of comfort when I was upset.”

Anthony smiled. “I believe it turned into more than comfort. I enjoyed kissing you. Very much.”

Her cheeks flooded with color.

“Go to the retiring room and wash your face. Join me in the supper room. I must speak to Everton.”

She hesitated. “Are you certain, Your Grace?”

“Anthony,” he prompted. “And yes. I’m very sure. If you aren’t happy with me as a husband, at least you’ll have Hannah as a sister-in-law.”

For the first time, she smiled. “I do like her. Very much.” Then a frown crossed her face. “Although she told me tonight that you had forbidden us to be friends. I understood why. You didn’t want her chances of making a suitable match ruined by a friendship with me. Yet here you are willing to marry me.” She sighed. “I don’t understand society at all.”

“You won’t have to, Laurel. You’ll be a duchess, one of a handful in all of England. Whatever rules you don’t like, you can simply choose to ignore.”

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