The Duke of Seduction Read online

  The Duke of Seduction

  Darcy Burke

  Contents

  The Duke of Seduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  Books by Darcy Burke

  About the Author

  The Duke of Seduction

  The Duke of Seduction

  Lady Lavinia Gillingham prefers rocks and dirt to marriage. Her passion is science, and she’s determined to marry if—and only if—she finds a man who supports her interests and intellect. So far, she’s managed to avoid attention on the Marriage Mart, but when the Duke of Seduction pens anonymous letters singing her praises, she suddenly become the toast of the ton and matrimony seems imminent.

  * * *

  William Beckett, Marquess of Northam possesses the reputation of a rake, but is secretly a romantic. Spurned at sixteen, he doesn’t expect to feel the sting of Cupid’s bow a second time, and yet he’s able to woo the coldest of hearts with the anonymous words he publishes. As the Duke of Seduction, he uses his skill to help Lavinia, never anticipating she has no desire for assistance. While Lavinia is pursued by several suitors, Beck is the one who is seduced when he learns that love can strike twice...

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  The Duke of Seduction

  Copyright © 2018 Darcy Burke

  Poetry Copyright © 2018 Steven C. Burke

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  ISBN: 1944576312

  ISBN-13: 9781944576318

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Book design: © Darcy Burke.

  Book Cover Design © Carrie Divine/Seductive Designs

  Cover image © Annie Ray/Passion Pages

  Editing: Linda Ingmanson.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-944576-31-8

  Created with Vellum

  For Steve

  * * *

  Roses are red,

  Violets are blue.

  It’s not always easy (and this poem is cheesy)

  But I’m glad I’m doing it with you.

  * * *

  Also for Zane

  Thank you for wearing your contacts. Sorry for my myopic genes!

  Chapter 1

  Oh heart, know thou conquering hand.

  Lush maiden, walking o’er the land.

  With a word, she captures your mind,

  Leaving life’s burdens far behind.

  * * *

  -From An Ode to Miss Anne Berwick

  by The Duke of Seduction

  London, February 1818

  Lady Lavinia Gillingham slipped into Lord Evenrude’s library and gently closed the door behind her, blocking out the not too distant sound of the ball she’d just escaped. Knowing her time was short, she hurried to the bookshelves, her gaze scouring the spines for the book she sought. Ah, there it was.

  The Geologic History of Cornwall.

  Her heart picked up a bit of speed as she plucked it from the shelf and settled herself on a nearby settee. A fire burned in the grate, offering light along with the sconces on the walls and a small lantern atop a table near where she sat.

  The tome wasn’t terribly lengthy, and yet she still wouldn’t have time to read it all. She’d do her best and perhaps find another opportunity to make her way into Lord Evenrude’s library. He was a member of the Royal Society, and if her parents wouldn’t be shocked and horrified, she’d simply ask to borrow it. Her parents would, however, be shocked and horrified. So she conducted her research and studies in relative secret.

  She soon lost herself in the description of the rocks and dirt of Cornwall and might have believed herself to be there if not for the sudden jolt of awareness that accompanied the soft press of lips—lips?—against her neck.

  Gasping, she snapped the book closed and dropped it to the settee as she jumped to her feet. She turned to face the man bold enough to do such a thing. Lord Northam, of course.

  Her eyes immediately narrowed. “What on earth are you doing?”

  He had the grace to appear contrite. “I beg your pardon. I thought you were someone else.”

  “Of course you did.” Lavinia didn’t bother keeping the sarcasm from her tone.

  He bowed, his tall, athletic frame bending with grace and elegance. “My deepest apologies. I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading.” His gaze dipped to the book, and he leaned forward slightly over the back of the settee, as if he were trying to read the title on the spine.

  “Well, you did. And now I suppose I must leave so that you can meet your…lover.” The word felt strange on her tongue, or maybe that was because she was alone in a secluded place with one of London’s most notorious rakehells.

  His eyes widened for the briefest moment. “Er, yes.” He gave his head a sharp shake. “I mean, no. I’ll leave you to your book.”

  “How kind of you, now that you’ve already caused considerable disruption. I suppose as soon as I sit back down, your paramour will interrupt me too. No, I should be the one to leave.” She began to step around the settee.

  “Well, that is very thoughtful of—”

  The sound of the door clicking open cut off his speech. “Hide under the desk,” he hissed. “Quickly!” He turned abruptly and hurried to the door.

  Or at least Lavinia assumed that was where he meant to go since she didn’t stand there and watch. She spun about and threw herself beneath Lord Evenrude’s pedestal desk. It was large enough for her to hide under, but open in the center so that if Northam’s lady friend looked toward the desk, she’d likely see Lavinia’s blue dress against the dark mahogany of the wood.

  It was, however, the best she could do. In hindsight, she should have dashed behind the curtains at the window. On the other hand, this allowed her to see what was happening in the library.

  On the other other hand, she probably didn’t want to do that.

  “Oh, Northam!” The breathy exclamation floated across the library, and Lavinia watched the sweep of a dark pink, flounced skirt as the woman turned toward the marquess, her hands sliding up around his neck.

  Lavinia tensed as the woman stood on her toes, presumably to kiss him. Except Northam clasped her upper arms and gently held her away from him.

  “I’m afraid we’ll need to postpone our assignation.”

  “Why?”

  Lavinia heard the pout in the woman’s voice and gritted her teeth.

  “Have you changed your mind?” She turned from him, and Lavinia
squinted at the woman, whom she instantly recognized as Lady Fairwell, a young viscountess perhaps a few years older than Lavinia’s twenty-three years. “Beatrice said you would, that you would tire of me very soon.”

  “Nonsense,” he soothed as he reached for her and turned her back around, which gave Lavinia a bit of relief. His gaze darted toward Lavinia, and they made brief but pointed eye contact. She’d no idea what he meant to communicate, if anything, but she rolled her eyes at him. “I’m afraid someone might have seen me come this way. I was just going to leave when you arrived.”

  Lady Fairwell gasped. “I can’t be discovered with you!”

  Then perhaps you ought not be carrying on with a man who isn’t your husband, Lavinia thought. She shook her head as she huddled beneath the desk.

  “Of course not. You go back to the ball, and we’ll find another time to meet.”

  “Promise?” Lady Fairwell wheedled.

  “I promise.”

  Lavinia tried not to gag, particularly when Lady Fairwell stood on her toes again and pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was over as quickly as it had begun as the marquess set the viscountess away from him and gestured toward the door.

  “Go quickly now,” he urged.

  She swept from the room, and the marquess locked the door.

  Lavinia scooted out from the desk as he rushed over to help her up. She didn’t bother taking his hand as she scrambled to her feet. In her haste, she stepped on the hem of her gown, which tripped her forward. Directly into Northam’s arms.

  He caught her close against him. “I’ve got you.” His embrace was strong and sure, and he smelled of clove and leather. If he were anyone else, she might consider lingering a moment.

  “And now you can let me go.” She made sure her heel was free of her hem as he righted her on her feet.

  “I was only trying to help,” he said a bit defensively, his dark blond brows gathering together on his wide forehead as he stepped back.

  “I don’t require your assistance, Lord Northam.”

  He smoothed his hand over his lapel, his gray-green eyes narrowing slightly in a manner that only made him more attractive. Which he needed no help with—he was already one of the best-looking men in Britain. He was one of those gentlemen who looked dangerously handsome one moment—when he wasn’t smiling as now—and dizzyingly charming the next when he was smiling, as he did in the next breath. “You know who I am?” His lips curved up, and his straight white teeth showed briefly.

  Lavinia snorted and didn’t care what he thought of it. “Everyone knows who you are.”

  “Then you have me at a disadvantage, for I have no inkling of your identity.” His tone carried a hint of flirtation, but she imagined he couldn’t help doing so.

  “Nor should you.” Though a part of her flinched in disappointment. Oh, why should he know you? They had absolutely no reason to cross paths. In fact, she should escape this interlude as soon as possible.

  He blinked at her, clearly expectant. “Are you going to enlighten me?”

  “No. I’m going to leave.”

  “Come, you must tell me your name, at least.”

  She sent him a dubious look. “Must I? We haven’t been properly introduced.”

  “Something tells me that wouldn’t normally bother you,” he said wryly.

  She scowled at him. “Do not flirt with me. I am not taking the place of Lady Fairwell.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “My apologies, again. I didn’t mean to suggest you should.”

  She straightened, then abruptly recalled what he’d told Lady Fairwell. “Did someone really see you come in here?” A rush of panic spiked up her spine.

  “No, I said that to get Matilda—Lady Fairwell—to leave.”

  Relief poured through Lavinia, but she didn’t want to tempt chance. “I need to do the same.” She stepped around him on her way toward the door.

  “You aren’t going to say anything about this, are you?”

  She half turned to see he’d pivoted and was watching her warily. “No. I don’t like gossip.”

  “Be careful to look before you leave—just make sure no one is outside.” He nodded helpfully with a placid but encouraging smile.

  Blast. Her heart picked up speed as she went to the door. She unlocked and opened it slowly and only the barest fraction, just wide enough to peer outside and check to see if anyone was hanging about.

  Satisfied that there was no one present, she slid through the crack and snapped the door shut behind her without a backward glance. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hands over her waist as she hurried to the ballroom. Just before she got there, she turned and looked back at the library, recalling that she’d left the book on the settee. She didn’t dare go back to replace it on the shelf. Well, there was no help for it. Lord Evenrude would know someone had read his book about Cornish rock formations.

  Spinning back around, she ran square into another person, a young woman she didn’t know.

  Lavinia kept them both from falling. “Oh my goodness, I beg your pardon!”

  “It’s quite all right. I’m afraid I stole up behind you. I thought you were someone else.” The young woman was perhaps a couple of years younger than Lavinia with bright red-gold hair and sharp blue-green eyes. “I’m Frances Snowden.”

  “How do you do? I’m Lady Lavinia Gillingham.”

  “Pleased to meet you. This is only my second ball, so I don’t know very many people.”

  “Indeed?” Lavinia linked her arm through the other woman’s. “Well, come along, Miss Snowden, and I’ll introduce you to my friend, Miss Colton. We were just saying earlier that we need a third.”

  “A third?”

  They moved into the ballroom, and Lavinia squinted as she steered them toward Sarah, who stood alone in the corner. Lavinia winced. When she’d left for the library, Sarah had been in the company of her mother.

  “We used to be a trio,” Lavinia said. “Until our friend Diana married a duke in December. We’ve missed having a third person in our group.” They’d arrived at Sarah’s side, and Lavinia withdrew her arm from Miss Snowden’s. “With a third, there’s less likelihood of anyone being alone.” She gave Sarah an apologetic look. “I wouldn’t have gone if I’d known your mother was going to abandon you.”

  “Well, you were gone a long time,” Sarah said with a touch of curiosity in her gaze.

  “Allow me to present Miss Frances Snowden,” Lavinia said, gesturing toward their new addition. “It’s her first Season, so, naturally, she needs us.”

  Sarah’s blue eyes sparkled as she grinned. “Splendid! Do we know her sponsor?”

  Lavinia looked to Miss Snowden, who answered. “That would be my sister, Her Grace, the Duchess of Clare.”

  Lavinia exchanged a look with Sarah before wincing toward Miss Snowden. “Perhaps you’ll prefer different friends. We, er, we tend to hug the wall.”

  “On purpose?” Miss Snowden asked.

  “Somewhat,” Lavinia said. “It’s our fourth Season, and we aren’t—well, we aren’t related to an Untouchable, if you understand my meaning.”

  Miss Snowden nodded knowingly. “My brother-in-law. The Duke of Desire.” She leaned toward them, lowering her voice. “Did you know my sister and her friends came up with those names in the beginning? They regret it a bit since it seems to have run amok. Now there’s a Duke of Every Single Thing. Or so it seems. Take this Duke of Seduction fellow. I don’t suppose either of you know who he is?”

  Sarah shook her head. “We don’t. What do you know of him, Miss Snowden?”

  “First, you must call me Fanny, and I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly find different friends. I’ve already decided to like you both, so you’re stuck with me. As to the Duke of Seduction, I probably know as much as you. He writes those gorgeous poems in the Morning Chronicle, and so far, two of the four women he’s written about have avoided spinsterhood and either been married or betrothed.”

  “I believe the number w
ill be three,” Sarah said. “My mother informed me this evening that Miss Lennox is on the verge of becoming betrothed as well.”

  “Well, three of four, then,” Fanny said with a grin. “Lucky them.”

  “Provided they are happy.” Lavinia shuddered. “There’s nothing worse than having to marry when you don’t wish to.”

  “It seems you two have avoided such a fate,” Fanny said. “Has it been difficult?”

  Lavinia gave her a grim look. “Progressively so. I’m afraid we both need to obtain husbands this Season or find ourselves pushed into unions we may not have chosen.”

  “Surely your parents wouldn’t make you marry someone you didn’t want to.” Fanny held up her hand. “Forget I said that. I know nothing of how the Marriage Mart is supposed to work. I am only here by the grace of my sister, and there is no pressure for me to wed, save what I expect.”

  Sarah looked at her intently. “And what is that?”

  “To fall in love like my sister. To find a man who will look at me the way West—His Grace—looks at her.” There was a wistful quality to her voice that Lavinia recognized.

  “I think we all want that,” Lavinia said with a half smile. For some inexplicable reason, she thought of Lord Northam. He was such a terrible rake. Did he want that? Or was he content to carry on temporary love affairs that likely had nothing to do with falling in love?

  Sarah pivoted toward Fanny. “If you’re hoping to fall in love, you may need to choose different friends. We aren’t often asked to dance or promenade. As, Lavinia said, we’re wallflowers.”

  “Well, I shall say just two things on that subject,” Fanny said authoritatively. “One, I said I didn’t want different friends, and I meant it. If you turn me away, it will be very cruel of you.” She flashed a smile to show that she didn’t think they would actually do that, and of course, they wouldn’t ever. “Second, as I am a horrendous dancer, it’s perhaps best that I align myself with people who don’t dance.”