Charming the Runaway Duke Read online

  He felt certain she would feel the same way about him if only he had a chance to get to know her without the trappings of their engagement…and his name.

  “So I take it you’re ready to embrace your wedding now?” Alec asked. His droll voice said he already knew the answer.

  Royce could not quite stop his wince in time at the reminder. It was not as though he was so very opposed to marrying Lady Amelia. In fact, he felt quite keen to marry her indeed.

  But even meeting the lovely lady herself could not dampen the memories that stirred when he thought about his ancestral home or the townhouse in London which he had yet to so much as drive past because he dreaded it so thoroughly. The idea of settling down, of doing all that he was duty-bound to do…it did not sit well.

  But, he shook off those thoughts, focusing once more on the vision of Amelia that had kept him blessedly distracted every hour of the day—waking and sleeping. She’d come into his life like a force of nature. One minute he’d gone along thinking his life was complete and now…

  Well, now he knew better.

  Now he knew with absolute certainty that he could neither rest nor work nor even enjoy a solid evening’s entertainment until he had her in his life and in his heart.

  Of course, he knew better than to say as much now to Alec. He’d tried that earlier and had been met by a weary groan in return.

  Alec adjusted his gloves as they came to a stop in front of the estate. “Let it be said for the record that I still believe you are making a mistake if you do not come clean at once. Let her get to know you as you are.”

  Royce arched a brow. “As I am? You mean a layabout, a gambler, a notoriously fickle fiend?”

  Alec rolled his eyes. “I meant a man who is still learning what it means to be a duke. A man—fallible, certainly, but not unkind. You are not the devil she likely believes you to be.”

  Royce, wide-eyed with surprise at his friend’s words of support, opened his mouth to say thank you, but Alec cut him short. “However…” Alec tilted his head and fixed him with a glare. “If you go through with this, you’ll be just as wicked as she likely believes you to be.”

  Royce hid the next flicker of guilt with an exaggerated sigh as he reached for the handle of the carriage. “Does it ever get tiresome?”

  Alec frowned. “Does what get tiresome?”

  “Being so dreadfully moral all the time.” He did not wait for an answer as the question was rhetorical. Besides…he stopped to straighten his cravat and breathe in the fresh night air as snowflakes fell around him, turning a typical London scene into something from a storybook.

  A good omen, that. At least, that was what he chose to believe as he eyed his fiancée’s home. This was it. His chance to start fresh with the woman who was to be in his life until…well, until it ended.

  Funny how such a thought used to make his chest tighten painfully like his ribs were a sort of prison. But now the thought of being with Amelia—truly together, seeing her whenever he wished and speaking about anything and everything. Creating a life filled with joy and laughter…

  It sounded like the very freedom he’d always craved.

  “Are you ready, Mr. Greenwald?” Alec’s voice dripped with mockery and disdain as he came to a stop beside Royce.

  “As I will ever be,” he answered.

  The house was already filled with laughter, music, and chatter when they entered and handed over their coats and hats. Despite his terrifying hopes and indefatigable fears for this evening, he felt a smile tugging at his lips at the thought of seeing her again.

  Her laughter echoed from somewhere down the hallway, a perfect complement to the pianoforte music and…barking? The butler led them down the hallway and into the drawing room where the barking sound grew exponentially louder as two little white puppies bounded toward them, running in circles around the two new visitors until the turban-clad older woman introduced as the Dowager Duchess of Redmayne called them to heel.

  Introductions were made and Royce found himself making small talk with a taciturn earl, his far more pleasant younger sister, Lady Tess, two great aunts who had more energy than the frenetic puppies rushing about the room, and the companion to the dowager duchess, a lovely, cheerful young girl who seemed determined to keep the Earl of Charmian involved in every conversation.

  Through it all, Royce was distracted beyond reason by her. Lady Amelia was effervescent in a pale blue gown, her honey blonde ringlets glinting with hints of copper and chestnut in the glow of the candlelight. Her cousin—the striking blonde—seemed to be permanently affixed to her side, thwarting his every attempt to speak to her with any semblance of privacy.

  Royce did the best he could, joining in on every group conversation she was a part of. Doing everything he could to make her laugh, make her smile, make her…look at him.

  She seemed just as determined to avoid any sort of connection—even something so simple as eye contact—as he was determined to attract her attention.

  She did laugh at his jokes, he noticed, but she did it while biting her lip as though trying not to. And she did smile when he spoke but her eyes remained fixed on the carpet at his feet.

  For a moment just before dinner was served, he almost regretted this ruse entirely. If she knew he was the duke—her duke—surely she would wish to speak to him.

  Or, she wouldn’t. But she would be obligated to.

  When dinner ended, he fell into a seat with an aggravated sigh. No, that would not do. That would only be worse if he felt as though she were only being friendly because she had to. The worst part was, she was smiling openly at everyone else—even Alec. She was still her warm, animated self and he wanted to be close to her desperately. That warmth, that smile, that sparkle in her eyes…

  He wanted it all for himself.

  Certainly, he’d share. He wasn’t so covetous as to steal her all for himself, but it was downright miserable watching her share that natural joy and affection with everyone in this room…except for him.

  Was it because he was merely a solicitor in a room filled with earls and ladies?

  No. He did not think so. She spent an inordinate amount of time chatting with Miss Grayson and the other companion—even he’d heard the stories about that girl’s scandalous family and he’d spent the better part of the last decade out of the country.

  So no, it was not snobbery that had her avoiding him.

  He caught her gaze across the room and she looked away quickly as if she’d been caught. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and her lips parted as if she was short of breath.

  “…but then, you must be used to such a thing.”

  Startled, Royce glanced over to see the elderly dowager duchess sitting beside him, one of those annoying, yet surprisingly sweet puppies on her lap.

  He blinked a few times as his focus fell on her and the words registered, along with the fact that he had clearly not been paying attention and had no idea what she was speaking about. “I beg your pardon?”

  Her smile was slow, knowing and…dare he say it…wily. She stroked a hand over the dog in her lap. “I was just remarking upon the festive atmosphere here. It reminds one of the sort of fetes that are held on the continent, does it not?”

  He blinked at her again. Never had he felt quite so inept as he did in that moment. “Ah, yes,” he said, trying valiantly to keep his attention on this sweet older lady as she prattled on about festivities and the holidays.

  “I recall being in Paris for Christmastide one year shortly after I was married.” This was the prelude to a rather long story that seemed to have no end, and very little point other than to keep him from seeking out his intended.

  He heard Amelia’s laughter behind him and nearly strained himself with the effort it took to feign interest in the old lady’s story rather than turn to face Amelia to see the smile that he knew for certain would be brightening her features, taking her from an adorable little pixie to an angel sent from above.

  A hand came down on
his shoulder, heavy and firm. He looked up to see Alec grimacing. No, smiling. Alec just wasn’t terribly good at the whole fake happiness thing and had to have been the worst actor in England.

  “Might I have a word,” he said before making his apologies on both their behalves to the lady present.

  She waved them off with that same mischievous smile that made Royce look back at her askance after they’d walked a short distance away. “I think she is suspicious.”

  “Of what?” Alec asked, sounding more than a little weary. But then again, it had been a heavy meal and wine had been flowing. Perhaps his friend really was merely exhausted.

  “Of me.”

  Alec frowned, looking from him to the older woman. “I do not see how that is possible. You said yourself you haven’t been in society in a decade—”

  Royce shrugged. “I know.”

  “Did you meet her when you were young?”

  Royce’s brows drew together as he tried to place her face from an earlier time. “No.”

  Alec arched a brow. “Is it possible you are being paranoid?”

  Royce glanced back and saw her regaling the Earl of Charmian with the same sordid tale she’d been telling him. “Yes, although I thought…that is, she mentioned the continent.”

  Alec stared at him nonplussed. “Do you suppose, perhaps, your conscience is bothering you?”

  It was the dry manner in which he’d said it that had Royce glaring at him. “Of course it is. I do not wish to fool anyone, least of all the woman I am to wed, but how else am I to make her fall for me the way I have for her?”

  “How indeed?” Alec muttered this under his breath.

  “Did you just call me over here to give me another lecture about honesty and—”

  “Mr. Greenwald,” Alec said loudly, holding a hand up to stop him as his gaze darted to the right just as Amelia came into view. “So good of you to agree to this meeting.”

  Royce stared at his friend before turning to a shyly smiling Amelia. “Er…”

  “Yes, thank you,” Amelia said. “Lord Tolston explained that you’d come to convey a message from my…from His Grace.” She blushed and ducked her head. “I am afraid I did not give you much opportunity to say what you came here to say when you visited yesterday.”

  He eyed Alec over her head but his friend merely shrugged. “I hate to interrupt your entertainment for the evening, Lady Amelia, but I do think it would be best if we get this business over and done with, don’t you?”

  Her head came up just as Royce shot his friend a withering glare. What was he on about?

  “I am certain Mr. Greenwald has other commitments for the holidays, as do you. And Harlow personally asked me to ensure that this matter is dealt with swiftly to avoid any future complications.”

  Now he and Amelia were staring at Alec in confusion, but he looked just as nonplussed as ever as he gave Amelia a short bow and walked away, leaving them together.

  Alone.

  Which was what he’d been hoping for all evening. His gaze followed his friend—crafty old bugger, wasn’t he? And definitely a better actor than Royce had given him credit for.

  Amelia gestured to a study that led off to the right, well in sight of the others but with a modicum of privacy. Still, he shot Alec a look of gratitude. Perhaps now he might finally—

  “Was there business we needed to attend to?” Amelia whipped around suddenly to face him, positioning herself within view of the others as she fixed him with a brilliant smile that made his heart race like a schoolboy’s.

  Her smile might have been wide and welcoming, but it was also…polite. Excessively polite as she folded her hands in front. Her brows hitched up slightly as she waited for his response.

  Right. Business. His mouth went dry and for the first time in his life he truly understood what it was to be nervous. “I, uh…”

  She tilted her head. “Was there something His Grace wished for you to speak of with me?”

  There. That was precisely the opening he needed. “Yes, in fact, there was…” And then for a moment he forgot every word in the English language. Their eyes met and he was lost. He was a drowning man and all sense of reason and logic were swept away in a riptide.

  Her skin glowed in the firelight, her hair glinted like a halo. Her smile was all innocence and yet there was that ever-present air of mischief. She was no angel—she was a siren.

  If he drowned in this maelstrom of feelings right here and now, it would be because of her enchanting gaze, her mysterious smile.

  Her eyes darted away from his when he took a step closer. She glanced out toward the others as if reassuring herself they were still there. “I’m beginning to be nervous, Mr. Greenwald.” Wide eyes darted back to his. “Everything is all right with His Grace, is it not?”

  He held still, resisting the urge to draw closer. “Forgive me for being so secretive,” he said. “His Grace is in excellent health, I assure you.”

  She nodded, something easing in her eyes. “Then what is this business we need to discuss, and…” She looked away again. “Could it not wait until the morning?”

  “No,” he said, his voice far more gruff than he’d intended. He cleared his throat. “What I mean is…there is something you ought to know.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him. “About Harlow?”

  Hearing her refer to him like he was a stranger… He hated it. But it was his fault. It was his fault that she did not recognize him and his fault that her eyes held a hint of wariness now as she eyed him. For the first time in a decade it occurred to him that this lady’s life was in his hands. He was responsible for her. He was responsible for many more as well, but right now, she was what mattered. The enormity of his duties struck him in a way they never had before, but for the first time, it did not feel like obligation. It felt like a gift. A blessing. His duty was his honor.

  Looking at his bride-to-be made his views shift so suddenly it felt as though the rug had been pulled out from beneath his feet. He was not doomed by duty, his obligations could set him free. He would be the luckiest man alive to have this woman at his side, and with her they could shape their own futures. They need not be like his parents; and indeed, looking at her now with that brilliant light of kindness in her eyes—it was impossible to imagine anything but harmony and love in their future.

  “Mr. Greenwald, is there some message you need to convey from His Grace?” she prodded gently.

  “He is…that is, he will…” Oh drat. Where to begin? “His Grace very much wishes to know you.”

  Her lips quirked up. “I should like that as well.” With a mischievous little smile, she added, “It would be helpful if he were in the same country, however.”

  “Perhaps the duke is closer than you think.”

  She batted her long lashes as she looked up at him in confusion, and he was struck anew with his good fortune. His chest ached with it, this new, raw feeling of gratitude for all that he had, and all that he had to give.

  “Mr. Greenwald, are you unwell? You look as though—”

  “You look beautiful tonight.” The words tumbled out. It was the only truth he felt confident in speaking, and it was a truth that needed to be said.

  Her brows drew down in confusion. Warmth filled her eyes as a smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you, Mr. Greenwald.” She arched a brow. “Was that what you needed to tell me?”

  He could not stop his smile. “No, but it still deserved to be said.”

  A flicker of confusion warred with that warmth he loved so much. “And the other business?”

  Other business? He had no other business. He just needed to tell her the truth, and now was as good a time as any. But he dreaded seeing the look in her eyes change once she knew the truth. “The duke—” He started, and then stopped just as abruptly. Blast, this was even harder than he’d imagined.

  “Yes?”

  “He was a fool to stay away for so long.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise and he
’d have to admit that he’d shocked himself with that outburst. But it was the truth. And if he could not quite reveal his secret, he could tell her every other truth.

  “Mr. Greenwa—”

  “You are a vision,” he said, cutting her off as the words tumbled out. Without meaning to, he reached out and touched a soft curl that fell against her cheek. “You are…” His throat grew tight as he tried to find the word. “You are perfection.”

  She blinked rapidly, her lips parting on a swift inhale. She looked just as dazed as he felt. “This is inappropriate,” she said. It perhaps would have been more effective if her voice wasn’t so breathy, so filled with the same emotion he had yet to name.

  She gave her head a little shake, and he could all but see her rallying herself back to pragmatism. Sure enough, she flashed a brilliant smile as she inched backward. “I am not the beauty out there. I am sure that credit goes to the other ladies who—”

  “No one is lovelier.” He’d employed the tone Alec referred to as his duke voice. It brooked no argument. He straightened to his full height, irritated that she did not know how perfect she was.

  Even more irritated that her lack of self-esteem likely had something to do with his unforgiveable absence. He’d done such a wonderful job of distracting himself from his duties at home, that he rarely let himself think about what it must be like for her, abandoned here in society. He’d heard about her father’s death. He’d known she was all but on her own. And what had he done?

  Nothing. He’d told himself she was better off without him.

  And maybe she is…

  But maybe he was not better off without her, and he had to believe that if given half a chance he could make her happy. Starting now.

  He reached for her hands and she looked down with a gasp at the familiar gesture. She did not pull away, however, merely tilting her head back to meet his gaze, her own clearly confused but unflinching.

  “No one compares to you,” he said softly. “Out there,” he jerked his head to gesture to the other room, “Or anywhere, for that matter.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he would not let her. “You made the two elderly women out there feel youthful with your kind words and your patient listening. You put that poor, awkward Earl of Charmian out of his misery and made him feel at ease all throughout dinner. You made his sister laugh when she’d grown sad at the talk of her brother’s passing…” He continued to rattle on, heedless of what a lunatic he must sound like. That did not matter so much as this. He needed her to know that he saw her—he saw more than a pretty face and a lovely figure. He saw what made her different from every other beautiful woman in society.