An Apple Pie for a Duke Read online

  Why does this have to be a dream?

  But where else could she be, alone with him? They had been alone before, in her dreams. Countless times. They had sailed on ships, ridden on horseback, they had been snowed in at a Scottish castle, and they had bathed in the waters of the Caribbean.

  Gigi gently caressed his thigh with her gloved hand. Still, he did not move.

  She inhaled his unique scent.

  Knowing how he smelled was a wonderful new aspect of her dreams, ever since she had encountered him at the bookshop.

  In one quick move she was on his side of the carriage, kneeling above him, his hips between her thighs. She felt his hard manliness through her gown and sweet fire shot into her, right there, where their bodies touched.

  A new sensation.

  Gigi had never dreamed anything like this before.

  It was confusing but maddeningly compelling.

  She kissed him hungrily on the mouth, entranced by the feeling of realness. An overpowering desire took hold of her. Her body had taken over command of her senses. She let herself sink lower to feel more pressure in that suddenly tender spot.

  His arms were around her and he drew her closer. Not close enough for Gigi. She wanted him to undress, to feel his naked skin on hers, to have him all around her, on top of her, inside her. She began to move her hips, the need for him growing stronger and stronger. She had to have him in there. Now! How could she let him know? How was it done?

  She took her mouth away from his.

  “Dominic, I need you so,” she whispered into his ear.

  “Eugenia...” He sighed and kissed her with more urgency. “I love you. Marry me.”

  Why would he want to marry her? They were already married.

  Their wedding had taken place on a pirate ship, did he not remember?

  “But we are already married,” she objected when his lips left hers for a brief moment.

  “What? No---”

  The carriage stopped.

  “Halfmoon Street!” The coachman called out.

  “That dreadful man!” A woman yelled outside.

  The duke pushed Gigi away and she fell back onto the opposite seat.

  She hit her arm. It hurt.

  “Mary! That dreadful man has arrived! Somebody has to get Eugenia out of his carriage and it won't be me!”

  Gigi came to her senses.

  Her aunt's voice was much too real and had never featured in any of her dreams before.

  I'm not dreaming! This is no dream!

  This is NO DREAM?

  She remembered the waltz, then blackness.

  The Duke of Surrey sat in silence, looking at his feet.

  Gigi got up and slapped him.

  “You dreadful man!” She spat. “This is no dream! You are not allowed to do any of this outside of my dreams! You shamefully abused my situation for your woebegone desires! Were I not a lady I should demand satisfaction! I'm not one of your cyprians whom you can relish at your pleasure! Who do you take me for? No, do not answer me, Your Grace. There is nothing graceful about you. You are a haughty, arrogant, sinister and reprobate scoundrel!”

  “Gigi, I---”

  She slapped him again.

  “Silence!” She waved her forefinger in front of his nose. “You have no right to use that name. You have no right to address me at all! If you should ever cross my path again, Sir, I swear my wroth will be beyond imagination! You horrid traitor, I saw you ogling that cow Serena Locksley!”

  “Who? I---”

  She slapped him once more and climbed out of the carriage.

  11.

  Grosvenor Square, the next morning

  Dominic sat at his elegant tea table. A footman in gold livery poured brandy into a glass.

  Brandy had been the duke's diet for the past few hours.

  The memories assaulted him.

  What have I done? But what could I've done? She was so passionate, so willing! So sweet and so ready...

  He finished the brandy and nodded to the footman to pour him another.

  She had slapped him. Thrice!

  But she seduced me! It was all her doing! --- Ah, don't kid yourself, Dominic, she was asleep, maybe she was drunk, too, you know she's not averse to alcoholic beverages... She made perfect sense in the end, when she realised how close she had come to lose her innocence.

  Yet, how could an innocent girl be so passionate and so determined in her lovemaking? Was she really innocent? After all, he did not know a thing about her. He had hardly talked to her. She could be plainly immoral! It was always easy to play the injured party. Maybe she had long given up her innocence to Mr. Wimple?

  Mr. Wimple! He must've arrived in London by now with the General! I must find him. I must know! I'll torture him if need be.

  Dominic drank more brandy.

  No. His instincts told him the Honourable Eugenia Cartwright was a wild-child, but not depraved. There had been a strange, pure perfection to her kisses, to the way she had lain in his arms. She had behaved like people behave in--- In a novel! Of course! She re-enacts her mother's unholy erotic novels when she imagines how we...

  His previous lovers had all been experienced women who had known what they were doing between the sheets, wise in all ways of lovemaking. Sophisticated whores, if I'm true to myself...

  Not Gigi. She was ingenuous. Dominic was sure of it.

  He felt a sudden deep longing and at the same time a profound embarrassment when he pictured how she dreamed about him, what she fancied he would do to her.

  He did not dare let his thoughts dwell further into that direction.

  He was befuddled by brandy and by that little minx, that devilish kitten.

  Angel! Demon! Pirate! All of it and more!

  He had to have her.

  He had to marry her.

  In his heart he knew he had wanted to marry her the moment she had taken off her pirate's tricorn. He had even told her so. Well, he had not been thinking clearly, she had been rubbing herself against his--- Whatever. He had said it and he had meant it, too.

  He wanted her for his wife but Eugenia only wanted him for a fantasy!

  She had been savagely angry when she had finally recovered from her amorous fervour in the carriage. Fury had raged through the beautiful creature like a thunderstorm.

  She had called him all sort of things. She never wanted to see him again!

  What if she wanted to marry somebody less sinister, less moody and less haughty? Somebody like that ignominious Mr. Wimple.

  I have to tell her about the stable! She needs to know!

  He'd call on her tomorrow and come what may, Mr. Wimple would not see the light of another day.

  He passed out.

  ***

  The following day, after having recovered from his excessive intake of brandy, Dominic had Coeur de Lion saddled and rode over to Halfmoon Street.

  He was informed by a footman that the General was not at home and neither were the ladies.

  They had taken the barouche to Hyde Park.

  12.

  Hyde Park, that same morning

  Miss Flora Parker, observant as usual, had immediately detected that something incisive had happened in the Cartwright household. Lady Cartwright was positively exuberant. The elegant woman was so radiant, Flora feared she might be inwardly aflame. Her husband's arrival could have been the reason for the lady's sudden mirth but Flora doubted it.

  Even so, Eugenia Cartwright was a complete contrast to her joyful parent.

  The bright young woman whom Flora had befriended not even a week ago had transformed into a pale, nervous, brooding creature. Beautiful yes, but not as forthcoming, witty or charming as she had been on earlier occasions.

  Funnily, apparently something Eugenia had done was the reason for Lady Cartwright's happiness. She would not cease stroking or patting her. “My good, good girl,” she'd sigh blissfully and smile.

  Flora and her own mother, Lady Parker, sat opposite the Cartwright females
in their barouche.

  It was the usual time for a jaunt to the park and many an acquaintance walked, rode or drove by, greeting them amicably. A few more courageous ones even inquired after Gigi's health.

  Her faiblesse at Lady Winston's was known to the entire ton, of course.

  Flora's mother had been speaking of nothing else ever since.

  Had Flora seen how it had happened? Had Flora heard what the duke had said?

  “How come he danced at all when everybody knows he never dances and what was he doing at Delilah's anyway? He could not possibly...? Or could he...? He would have to at some point... though everybody had given up on it, more or less, but no! Along comes Mary Tarly-Rivendon-Cartwright – who always got what she wanted then and now – and has magicked up a stunningly beautiful daughter who pretends not to care for men at all. The next thing we see is Surrey at a ball, an occurrence nobody had ever hoped to witness, they dance, she faints, he brings her home in his carriage alone! Shocking! The girl is utterly compromised and it has been her own mother's idea! But then that flaxen haired schemer has always been outrageous, mark my words. First she marries the Earl of Rivendon about two weeks into her first season, later she runs of to France and marries that atrocious old general! It was sheer calculation by the Cartwright woman to set the duke up with her Eugenia! Who knows? Maybe the girl only feigned the weakness to make the greatest catch of the century! My dear Flora, we'll stick to these people if our lives depend upon it! If I'm not wrong, we'll soon be friends with the St. Yves. And the Shaws and the Lackerbies... they are all so very...”

  Rich? Exclusive?

  Her mother's social ambitions had never interested Flora. She liked Gigi because Gigi had been the only girl she had ever encountered who would really understand her.

  Yet, her mother's words spoken in private came back to her as she watched Lady Cartwright. Did the lady look smug? Proud? As if she had reeled in the greatest catch of the century?

  Yes she did!

  Poor Gigi! Was she the victim of a wicked plot between her mother and the reckless duke? Had Surrey asked for Gigi's hand? Were they forcing the poor girl to marry him? A free spirit as Eugenia Cartwright would break under such a strain, no wonder she suffered!

  Flora pictured Gigi locked into a castle, chained to an enormous four-poster-bed and the Duke of Surrey exploiting her helplessness to satisfy his physical needs.

  To her own distress, Flora could not feel any pity for Gigi. Who would not want to be chained to a bed by the Duke of Surrey?

  “Eugenia,” Lady Parker ventured and brought Flora back from her reveries. “I'm sure you are happy your father has come all the way from Yorkshire, just to stand by you during your first season?”

  “What?” Gigi also seemed to have woken up from some daydream, though not from a pleasant one. “Oh pardon me, Lady Parker, but I haven't been listening, please do forgive me!”

  “It wasn't anything of importance, dear.” Flora's mother smiled graciously.

  Hypocrite.

  Lady Cartwright patted Gigi's arm. “My good, good girl,” she chirped. “Isn't it a wonderful morning, all sunny and fresh. --- I wished my husband were here, but he had to take Mr. Wimple to the apothecary's. His digestion is not the best. Sometimes we're in danger of our lives. These vapours...”

  Flora felt her mother tremble with shock.

  Lady Cartwright was indeed outrageous. Flora admired and envied her. To be so independent of other people's opinion had to be a blessing.

  “I'm glad Mr. Wimple is here,” Gigi sighed, gazing hopelessly into the distance.

  “Oh, yes. He joined us at exactly the right moment. When my darling girl is not well, Mr. Wimple can always make her feel better. She even wanted him to stay with her overnight, but I couldn't allow it. The vapours, you see.”

  Lady Parker coughed.

  “Oh no!” Gigi sighed all of a sudden, her face ashen.

  All three of them turned their heads.

  A tall figure astride a black horse was approaching in a brisk canter.

  The villain of the piece looked exquisite in a dark grey riding suit, Flora decided

  “Isn't that His Grace?” Lady Cartwright demanded innocently. “Look, darling, it's His Grace. We didn't get the chance to properly thank him for taking you home. I'd planned to write him a letter later today. How convenient we should meet him here.”

  “Charming,” Lady Parker agreed and smiled even more agreeably.

  “Lady Cartwright, Lady Parker, Miss Cartwright, Miss Parker,” the duke said severely as he drew up alongside the barouche.

  “Your Grace,” the ladies courteously bowed to the duke. All except Gigi who did not move nor speak.

  “A beautiful morning, isn't it, duke?” Lady Cartwright jubilated, patting her daughter's hand.

  “Exquisite.”

  “How right you are,” cried Flora's mother. “Exquisite!”

  The duke looked speculatively at Eugenia. “I hope you have recovered from your malaise, Miss Cartwright?”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Gigi said coldly without looking back at him.

  “She does look rather pale, doesn't she,” Lady Parker filled her voice with a note of well-meaning sorrow.

  “Perhaps the London air doesn't agree with you, Miss Cartwright,” the duke continued. “Whenever I meet you, your are out of sorts, in one way or another.”

  Flora watched him closely. Since the duke did not care for her at all she was at liberty to blandly observe him. He looked tired. His mouth was twitching and a certain tension in his posture belied the easy manner of his speech.

  “I hear the Yorkshire air's much more beneficial. My horse keeps telling me so.”

  “Your horse?” It broke out of Flora.

  “Yes,” the Duke nodded. “He's quite a chatterbox. It's mostly nonsense though.”

  “Is it?” Lady Cartwright's good humour had evaporated. She looked downright worried.

  She's afraid she's set her daughter up with a mad man. That would serve her right.

  “Yes, indeed. Guess what he told me about Yorkshire. He said there were pirates in Yorkshire.”

  “That's well possible,” Lady Cartwright concurred. “There are a lot of secret coves by the sea, ideal for smugglers. We live further inland, fortunately.”

  The duke nodded. “My horse spent some time at a lovely inn called the Red Mill. Do you perchance know the local?”

  Lady Cartwright, still visibly distressed, cleared her throat. “Oh yes, I do! The owner served under my husband in the army.”

  “Coeur de Lion enjoyed his stay very much. Because that's were he saw the pirate! In fact, he hit upon a secret meeting between a Princess and a Privateer in that very inn's most comfortable stable. Spectacular haylofts, if anything.”

  “Oh,” Lady Parker cried. “Isn't there a novel of that title? The Princess and the Privateer?”

  “I wouldn't know,” Lady Cartwright said sternly.

  Flora glanced at Gigi to see whether her friend found the entire conversation as disturbing as she did. Gigi's face had changed from white to bright red.

  “Was it a secret rendezvous?” Lady Cartwright asked nervously.

  Why does she even listen to his gibberish? His horse tells him stories! Bedlam's calling!

  “That's what my horse believed, at first. But it turned out to be a book-club.”

  “A book-club?” Again, Flora had not managed to keep her mouth shut.

  The Duke proceeded unperturbed. “Yes, charming little get-together with cider and apple pie, rolling around in the straw, dramatising the content of the book in question. An excellent apple pie, my horse insists.”

  “Your horse joined the book-club, then?” Flora asked with a tinge of sarcasm.

  “Oh yes, oh yes. The pirate was very welcoming. Only when he found out that the horse was in fact my horse, he was terrified!”

  “Aha?” Lady Cartwright pursed her lips.

  “Yes! That pirate had, so it seems, encount
ered me in one of my less decorous moments and hence feared retribution. Must've been at a place called Hayford where I'd threatened to finish off the heir.”

  “HAYFORD?” Lady Cartwright gasped.

  The duke nodded gravely.

  “Retribution?” Lady Parker asked. “But what for?”

  “For corrupting the equestrian diet, of course. This horse is an athlete, you understand. Sugary pies are not at all beneficial to him. The pirate was very knowledgeable on the subject and justly feared my wroth. Unspeakable punishments I would administer, he was sure of it. The poor pirate would dwell in eternal agony. He dramatically offered himself to be my slave for the rest of his life if it saved him from the gruesome penalties awaiting him in my dungeons.”

  “Oh, did he?” Lady Cartwright had stopped patting Eugenia and looked at her with raised eyebrows.

  Eugenia bit her lip and nodded, her skin a dark shade of violet.

  “Well, I couldn't vouch for the accuracy of my horse's account. If any horse could be accused of verbosity, it would be mine. --- But forgive me, I can't linger, I have an appointment in the city.”

  He looked at Eugenia gravely for a while. Then he drew a deep breath. “I shall call on you tomorrow afternoon, Miss Cartwright. I hope to find you recovered from your illness, by then. As far as I understand, a certain Mr. Wimple's life may depend on it. You'd better inform him of the imminent danger to his person.”

  He clicked his tongue and the magnificent stallion sped away.

  Eugenia breathed out with a loud “pah” and remained in just that position, her mouth hanging open.

  “What was all that about?” Flora asked.

  Eugenia stared at her seemingly unable to operate her jaws.

  Lady Cartwright leaned back and closed her eyes. “Smelling salts,” she pleaded.

  Flora's mother immediately obliged. “There, there, dearest Mary. I understand you must be disturbed by the news. And your little girl so confused, too. There you thought it was only a digestive problem and here comes the duke with some unhinged story about a talking horse and all of a sudden he tells you your beloved Mr. Wimple may be terminally ill! But even if his demise should be at hand, my dear, you must always remember he's had a long and happy life. I only saw him once but I found him an exceptionally charming dog.”