The Other Duke Read online

  Chapter Three

  Rafe stood in the parlor of Serafina McPhee’s home the next afternoon, pacing the floor as he awaited his host and his intended. Although he had only been left alone but a few moments, he found himself irritated and out of sorts.

  Since his cousin’s death, Rafe had been somewhat numb to the consequences of inheriting the dukedom. Yes, it had been the only subject of discussion within his family for days, but despite every conversation and analysis, the endeavor had not fully hit home with him until he met Serafina.

  So his evening after their encounter had consisted of a great deal of alcohol and a sleepless night in his bed. A bed he would soon abandon for the ducal home, he was told by a thin-nosed solicitor who seemed to relish giving Rafe the news. The other man simply couldn’t understand why someone would loathe the idea of inheriting a title. No one could.

  Behind him, the parlor door opened and he turned to watch Jonathon McPhee enter with Serafina trailing behind him. Her eyes were downcast as she stepped into the room, but she lifted them for a moment and her gaze caught his and lit up with…well, he wasn’t certain what emotion it was that flitted across her face, but it was not an unpleasant one.

  Suddenly his upset faded a fraction.

  It returned almost immediately as McPhee slammed the door behind his daughter and strode up to Rafe without the barest of preamble.

  “Your solicitors have reviewed the contracts, I’m certain, Your Grace,” he said, his face reddening as he hurtled himself onto the settee and folded his arms.

  Rafe arched a brow at the blustering older man and promptly turned his attention to Serafina. “Good afternoon, Miss McPhee.”

  She nodded. “Your Grace.”

  “I hope you are well after a difficult day yesterday,” he continued, loving how McPhee had begun to clench and unclench his fists.

  Serafina seemed to take pleasure in that fact, as well. “Thank you for your kind concern. May I get you something to eat?”

  “That would be quite nice, thank you,” Rafe said, retaking his chair and watching as she walked to the sideboard across the room and gathered up plates. She chose two biscuits and then turned to him with eyebrows lifted in question.

  “Chocolate, thank you,” he said in answer to the unspoken question about which biscuit he would prefer.

  “Your Grace, I must insist upon—” McPhee began again.

  Before he could finish, Serafina turned toward them again. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, might I trouble you for some assistance?”

  Rafe glanced over to find her motioning toward one of the plates. With McPhee still sputtering on the couch, Rafe got up and joined her across the room. As Serafina handed him his plate, she leaned in.

  “Ask me to go driving,” she whispered, her gaze darting to her father surreptitiously.

  Rafe stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  She pursed her lips in apparent frustration. “I saw your fancy phaeton in the drive. Tell my father you wish to go driving in the park with me, now.”

  Rafe blinked a few times, uncertain how to respond to her wild-eyed insistence. His hesitation seemed to spurn her forward. She stepped toward him until they almost touched and he got a faint whiff of the honey essence of her skin. The fragrance seeped through him, warming him, making him want her just as he had in those few shocking moments when he’d first seen her from across the room at his cousin’s funeral gathering.

  “Do you understand?” she snapped, still whispering, even though she seemed to be utterly exasperated with him.

  “Yes, you are very clear,” he said with a laugh he could not smother. He turned to move across the room and set his plate down next to a chair.

  “Mr. McPhee, I would like to take a drive around the park with your daughter. I have an open rig for two, and the park is so close by. I hope you will allow it.”

  McPhee, not surprisingly, stared at him in disbelief. “Right now? When you have only just arrived and we haven’t even had a moment to discuss the very important matters at hand?”

  Serafina stepped forward to pass her father his own biscuit, which he took in what seemed to be stunned silence.

  “Papa,” she said, her voice suddenly all sweetness and light. “Perhaps if His Grace and I get to know each other, you will not have to bellow your points at him so.”

  McPhee shot Serafina a glare so dark that for a moment Rafe wanted to place himself between father and daughter. But when he looked at her, she didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by her father’s angry expression. Which made Rafe wonder how much worse she endured in this house with this grasping little man who would use her to obtain his own desires.

  “Do you promise you will not try anything untoward?” her father asked.

  Rafe turned back to him in surprise. “Untoward?”

  “Your outrageous reputation with women precedes you, young man,” McPhee said. Rafe almost smiled, for it seemed McPhee cared a little for his daughter yet. But the smile fell when McPhee added, “Until your obligations have been laid out and agreed to, I cannot risk you spoiling her.”

  Serafina blushed as she turned away from the men. “I promise you, Papa, there will be no spoiling today,” she said softly.

  Rafe nodded in agreement and McPhee waved them toward the door. “Go then. But this conversation is not over.”

  “No, it is not,” Rafe agreed as he walked to Serafina and offered her an arm.

  She hesitated a beat before she took it and there was no mistaking the tightness around her mouth and eyes as she marched them into the foyer. There she spoke a moment to a servant and then said, “They’ll bring the carriage right away. Come to the drive and we’ll wait.”

  He nodded, saying nothing about the subject he so desperately wished to broach. In fact, he said nothing as his gig arrived, nothing as he helped her into her place, nothing as he urged his horses into the street.

  He was about to speak when the horses suddenly jolted and the mare on the driver’s side leapt, slamming the carriage forward and nearly sending them both flying.

  “Whoa!” he called, yanking back on the reins with all his might. His heart pounded as the horse stilled.

  “What is wrong with them?” Serafina asked, her voice shaking as she gripped the edge of her seat.

  “I don’t know,” he said, handing over the reins to her. “Hold them if you can.”

  She didn’t hesitate, but gripped the reins without argument. She watched as he climbed down and approached the skittish mare on his side of the carriage with gentle words.

  “Steady, steady, Moonfire. What spooked you?” he asked, running his hands up her side.

  The animal stiffened and sidestepped slightly as his hand approached her bridle. Carefully, he slid his fingers beneath the woven bridle and drew his hand back in surprise. There was a broken piece of metal there. He extracted it from its place digging into Moonfire’s flesh and drew it out to stare at it in disbelief.

  “The poor animal!” Serafina gasped as he held it up to the light. “Is she injured?”

  He felt beneath the bridle again, but this time the horse didn’t skirt away. When he withdrew his fingers, he saw no blood and shook his head.

  “She doesn’t appear to be hurt,” he said and moved around to examine the other horse, Sunbeam. But there was nothing to find beneath her bridle and she only kept a worried eye on the other horse rather than react to his touch.

  He put the shard in his pocket and shook his head as he returned to his driver’s seat.

  “I’ll have to show this to my stable master,” he said. “And have my equipment inspected.”

  Serafina surrendered the reins to him and drooped against the seat momentarily. “That was certainly an unexpected beginning to our ride.”

  Rafe nickered at the animals and the horses began to move, this time with no dramatics. “This entire outing is unexpected,” he said with a laugh.

  He maneuvered the vehicle onto the street and toward the park just
a short ride away. It wasn’t until he turned through the huge gate marking the park that he spoke again.

  “All right, Serafina McPhee, tell me—what are you up to?”

  Serafina shifted slightly at both the direct question Rafe asked her and the pointed stare with which he snagged her. She had made this plan the night before with great relish, but now it was…more difficult.

  “I—” she began, then stopped herself to draw in a deep, calming breath. “Since we very nearly died a similar death as your cousin together, I feel I must be honest with you. I do not wish to marry you.”

  His eyebrows lifted and he shook his head. “You wound me.”

  The flat affectation of his tone and the dancing expression in his eyes told Serafina that he was teasing her. It was odd how that easy interaction made her stomach flutter and her cheeks heat. Rafe Flynn was certainly an exasperating man.

  “Please don’t play, I’m being very serious,” she said, folding her arms and looking away from him. It was easier to think and breathe when she did so.

  “I realize that,” he said.

  “And I don’t believe you wish to marry me either.” She glanced at him again and could see he was struggling with a gentlemanly way to affirm her assertion. “You don’t have to say it. It doesn’t really matter anyway.”

  “No?” he asked. “You don’t think it could all be changed?”

  She shook her head at his repeated belief that things would work out for him. It must have been a remarkable life he led before Cyril ruined everything for him. She almost felt sorry for the man.

  “We will be forced to do so. Certainly you must have read over the contracts.”

  He turned the phaeton down a little-used lane and parked it so that they looked out over the lake. Once he had secured them, he turned to face her.

  “I did. As did my solicitor and, perhaps most importantly, my sister Annabelle. Your father is quite thorough.”

  Serafina tilted her head, taken aback by his comment about his sister reading over the contracts. She had never heard of a man with such wealth and power giving anything over to a female relative, but apparently he trusted this Annabelle a great deal.

  She shook her head to clear those thoughts. “With Cyril, there was something he wanted—money—and something my father wanted, a closer connection to the power of the title Hartholm. But with you it’s different.”

  “How so?” he asked, lazing back against the vehicle like he was lounging at his club.

  For a moment, his expression distracted her, for it made her realize what a position they were in. Although there were a few others in the park, they were actually very secluded where they were.

  And she knew very well how men could take advantage. In fact, Rafe’s reputation said he would very likely attempt just that. But somehow the old fear, the tension that always accompanied being alone with Cyril, did not dog her now.

  “Serafina,” he said softly.

  She jolted at the sound of him saying her name. “I’m sorry. You must know why it’s different—you have more money than King Midas.”

  Rafe tilted his head aback and let out a great bark of laughter that froze Serafina in her tracks. God, but he was attractive. His teeth were white and straight and there was a dimple in his right cheek that gave his grin a lopsided element. She didn’t think she had ever seen such a well-favored man before.

  Which made her hope even more that he might just agree to her terms.

  “Not quite,” he said when his laughter had faded.

  She shrugged. “You don’t need more.”

  “Some would say a man could never have enough, but I tend to agree with you,” he said.

  She swallowed hard. He was teasing her again, not cruelly, but as if they were friends. It was all very confusing.

  “It seems to me that we should negotiate for what we will each receive if this travesty of a marriage must continue,” she said in a quick burst of words.

  His smile fell and he stared at her, clearly surprised by her statement.

  “Negotiate?” he repeated.

  She nodded slowly.

  He examined her closely for a long moment before he leaned forward. Although the gig was open, it didn’t leave much room between them so suddenly he seemed to loom up everywhere, surrounding her. She could smell the sweet hint of sandalwood and lavender, and she felt the heat of his body.

  To her surprise, her body reacted very differently than it ever had to such a circumstance. Her breath came short, not out of fear, but something she couldn’t name. Her heart began to stutter in her chest. She felt hot and achy. It was nothing like she had ever experienced.

  “And just what do you intend to offer me, Serafina?” he asked, his deep voice as smooth and attractive as the rest of him.

  But his words broke the spell. Her mind conjured quick images of Cyril’s rough hands and cruelty. With a gasp, she turned her head.

  “Freedom,” she said, her voice cracking. “I will give you a marriage in name alone, with no expectations or connections. I will give you utter freedom.”

  Rafe leaned away from Serafina, taken aback not just by what she said, but by how adamant she was in saying it. Her pretty face was taut with strain and her knuckles were white from gripping her fists in her lap.

  He had been teasing and playful with her, hoping to relax her, but now he could see he might need to take a different tactic.

  “I understand your reticence,” he said softly. “You were to marry my cousin up until just a few days ago and your betrothal was one that spanned many Seasons. His sudden death must be a blow. That you could not transfer any kind of affection to another man is obvious.”

  He watched her as she digested what he’d said. Her face was again unreadable and he found himself wondering if she had somehow heard about the full details of Cyril’s demise. His cousin had died driving his rig too fast while a whore fellated him. But those were details discussed by men, not with women. She couldn’t know, nor should she ever, so that her illusions of her fiancé wouldn’t be shattered.

  “Yes, of course,” she finally said, her tone oddly flat and even more tense than her expression. “What you say is right. Transferring my affections would be difficult. So what do you think of my offer? Do not trouble me and I shall also leave you be.”

  Rafe wrinkled his brow. That she was upset was clear, but the fact that he couldn’t exactly place the reason troubled him. She agreed about transferring her affections, but he had not seen her weep over Cyril nor show overly warm emotions when she spoke about him.

  So perhaps there was something else at play here. Either way, Rafe had no choice but to move forward and address her new “terms” to their marriage.

  “I would not trouble you, as you put it,” he said, shifting with discomfort as he tried to find a way to continue. She was a lady, after all, and might not understand. “But…we must…there are certain things we must do… things to—to consummate—”

  She blushed hot, but her jaw set with grim determination. “I know what you are trying to say. So we will have a wedding night, together.”

  He nodded. She didn’t seem shocked by the subject, so he had to assume she had spoken to a female relative or friend in preparation for her wedding night with Cyril. With their original wedding date now just a few days away, he supposed that made sense.

  “But not just a wedding night,” he continued. “We will also need to provide at least an heir and a spare to the title.”

  “Why?” she burst out, suddenly blinking far too much as she edged away from him as far as the narrow phaeton seat would allow. “Why?”

  He frowned. She had been calm in the face of dangerously bucking horses, but the idea of bearing his children made her balk. It was very strange.

  “I’m surprised a lady in your position must ask that. Because I am a duke now. Is that not the expectation?”

  “But you don’t want to be a duke,” she argued. “Why live up to the expectations? Your reputa
tion shows you delight in doing so, why should this be different?”

  She was asking him things he already asked himself. Things he had answers to, unfortunately.

  “Because I would not pass this burden to my brother in the event of my untimely death,” he said softly. “Crispin would be even more ill-suited to the duty than I am. It would destroy him.”

  She stared at him, her panic fading, if only for a moment. “You care for him so much?” she asked softly.

  “Of course,” Rafe admitted with no hesitation. “He is my best friend as well as my brother.”

  Her expression softened at that admission, though she seemed to struggle with his request for a moment. Finally she nodded. “It would be unfair of me not to fulfill my duty. I can agree to providing you with sons.”

  She had said the word duty and it hung between them. It was funny, but looking at her, brilliant sunlight dancing off her honey hair, golden on her beautiful face, what they were discussing, sex, didn’t feel much like a duty. Serafina was distant and cold now, but even if she had lingering feelings for his cousin, could Rafe teach her pleasure? After all, passion didn’t have to be linked to the heart.

  “Why are you looking at me that way?” she asked, her voice soft and raspy.

  He shook away thoughts of laying her naked body across his bed and said, “I was only thinking that we have negotiated, as you put it, my desires, but I don’t know what you want, aside from being left alone except for the purposes of procreation.”

  She tugged her lip between her teeth and nibbled gently. The action sent a slash of heat to his cock, and he shifted so she wouldn’t see his sudden and powerful reaction.

  “I would like a reasonable income so that I don’t have to beg for everything I need,” she said. “And a home of my own.”

  He shook his head. “You may stay in the ducal home, Serafina.”

  “No!” she said, her tone again sharp and panicky. She drew a breath that seemed to calm her, for when she spoke again her tone was much more controlled, “No, thank you. I would prefer something less…less grand.”