Trapped with the Duke by Annabelle Anders

An Unlikely Coincidence

Of all the people in London, what was the Duke of Bedwell doing here? And why was her brother leading him across the room to where she was standing?

“Collette, I believe you’ve met His Grace? Bedwell, you know my sister, Miss Jones.” It was a wonder Collette remembered to drop into a curtsey as Chase presented her. The memory of the duke’s lips brushing hers flashed through her mind. And another of him bending over her bare hand, when she’d been a respectable teacher at a respectable school—and then later, in a stairwell, when he’d taken her into his arms and—

“Under considerably different circumstances.” The formal tone of his voice shouldn’t send vibrations shooting through her like they did. What on earth was the matter with her?

“Indeed,” Collette agreed. Why had he come? He’d agreed to keep what happened in the stairwell between the two of them. Was it possible that his sudden appearance in her brother’s drawing room was merely a coincidence?

“I hadn’t realized you’d left Miss Primm’s until recently.” His statement was a grim-sounding one. She’d forgotten the effect his unsmiling demeanor had on her. It ought to be off-putting but it wasn’t. Her brother didn’t seem bothered by it either.

Chase’s attention drifted to movement at the door. “Ah, more guests have arrived. Bedwell, I’ll surrender you into my sister’s capable hands, if you’ll excuse me.”

All politeness, Chase sauntered away, leaving only the hint of his familiar cologne in his wake as he did so. Leaving Collette alone with the duke—a man who’d entered her thoughts on more occasions than she wished to admit, even to herself, over the past month.

Collette shifted her gaze around the room before bringing it back to rest on the duke. His hair was longer than it had been the last time they’d been in one another’s company but other than that he was just as dukish as when she’d first met him. Perhaps even more so.

“I was sacked.” She raised her shoulders and then dropped them. “It wasn’t my choice to leave.”

“That is most unfortunate.” But he sounded rather unsympathetic.

Was he deliberately being cruel or was he simply obtuse? Since he didn’t seem like a thick-skulled individual, she determined it was the former.

“Yes, in fact, it was most unfortunate,” she rejoined.

His eyes widened. “Do you think I’m being glib?”

Collette pinched her lips together and nodded.

“I am not, as a matter of fact. While going through my mail this very afternoon, I discovered a letter posted by my sister—a letter in which she wrote of her displeasure over the termination of her favorite teacher. She wrote that she had been quite enjoying your class and was very, very disappointed when you left. Which she emphasized to me using Latin words, mind you. Ut destitute,” he said. “Apparently, while you were there, you made something of an impression—on at least one of your students.”

Collette narrowed her eyes at him. Was he teasing her?

“You do not believe me?” he queried.

Collette had only been able to teach for one week before Mrs. Metcalf’s objections took on a life of their own. She had hoped she’d imparted something to her students in that short time.

Ut destitute. Very disappointed.

Lady Fiona had been one who had paid close attention. She’d also asked questions and mentioned that although she’d known it was important to learn Latin, no one had ever explained it to her in a way that made her believe it. No one had ever told her why Latin was such an important language.

“I was most disappointed to leave,” she admitted. An understatement, to be certain.

She wished she could be angry at Miss Primm, or consider herself a martyr, but the fact was, the circumstances surrounding her very personhood would follow her throughout her life. It had been naïve to think that the parents of social-climbing students would accept her—no matter how much money Chase donated to the school.

“I was unaware of your changed circumstances until today. It was simply by chance that I happened upon your brother.” He hadn’t sounded unsympathetic before but perhaps that was simply… him.

“It was all rather sudden.” Collette grimaced, blinking back the unwanted stinging in her eyes. She forced her mouth into what she hoped resembled a pleasant smile. “Otherwise, your sister is doing well? She is happy at Miss Primm’s plebeian institution?”

The duke met her gaze with a level stare and then cocked one brow. “Presently, yes.”

Collette nodded and then rolled her lips together. That gaze of his, which ought to leave her cold but didn’t, flicked to her mouth and then up to her eyes again.

The effect of his perusal was disconcerting, but it was also… exhilarating.

“I would have come sooner if I’d known. I have every intention of meeting with your brother…”

Collette stared up at him, confused. They’d already been over this. She’d released him from any responsibility he felt toward her.

She searched his impassive expression for any sign as to what he was thinking. A tick in his jaw gave away… something. He was not as unaffected as he seemed. But why?

“How are you?” He asked.

How was she?

His question seemed to reach inside of her chest and squeeze her heart, and she didn’t know why.

For an instant, she found herself staring at his mouth. His lips appeared firm and set just now, as they’d been at the onset of the kiss they’d shared. But he’d softened them gradually, like early snow beneath a warm autumn sun.

“Miss Jones?”

“I am… fine.” She was not really. But when a person asked how you were, Bethany had explained to her that one never actually answered truthfully.

* * *

Addison’s throat thickened.How had he not realized how lovely she was? Or had she intentionally downplayed her looks while at the school?

Tonight she wore a gown of brilliant blue silk, although not as blue as her eyes. And rather than the tight chignon she’d worn before, delicate curls framed her face and a few silky strands looped flirtatiously around her neck.

Jolted by an unexpected surge of attraction, he skimmed his gaze around the others in the room and inhaled a slow calming breath.

He was acquainted in some way or another with all of Chaswick’s guests, and he likely would only be allowed a few more minutes, if that, to speak to her alone.

Contrary to the answer she gave him, it was obvious that she was not fine. Having lived with women, whether they be his mother, his sister, or even one of the servants, he’d learned that the word fine most definitely did not mean fine.

Best to get this over with quickly. He stepped forward and bent his head closer, for a hint of privacy.

“It is my fault that you lost your employment. I intend to meet with your brother tomorrow.” Tiny earbobs shaped like hearts dangled alongside a few golden tendrils. He licked his lips and then, remembering Rowan’s advice, flicked his stare to meet her eyes. “If you have no objections.”

“Meet with Chase? But that isn’t necessary. We discussed this already…”

“Perhaps that was true last month.” Addison skimmed one hand along her arm. “But in light of your dismissal from Miss Primm’s, surely, you feel differently.” He’d not expected her persistent contrariness—although he should have. “Allow me to do the honorable thing here.”

“But my circumstances have nothing to do with you.”

“They have everything to do with me. Miss Primm dismissed you because of complaints that you were not suitably upstanding.”

“Yes, but—”

“I don’t know who let it out, and when I do, I’ll take them to task myself. But in lieu of your dismissal, I assumed that you, an educated woman, would see fit to reconsider your answer.”

She tilted her head, and her scent tickled his senses. But the incredulous light in her eyes reminded him of the look she’d given him when they’d been locked in the stairwell. As though she wasn’t quite certain he wasn’t dicked in the knob.

“Nothing is out that wasn’t already public.” She cast an anxious glance behind her. “No one knows about… what happened between you and me.”

“Then why…?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Why were you expelled? Did you get yourself caught in some other scandal following my departure?” Good God, if that was the case, Miss Primm had had a perfect right to let her go. “Is there someone else?”

“Oh, heavens, no.” She frowned. “The scandal I was expelled for occurred over twenty years ago.”

Twenty years ago? “Because of your father?”

“Mrs. Metcalf, one of the mothers, has wanted me gone since the moment she realized who I was.”

Chaswick had mentioned Mrs. Metcalf’s part in all this. Collette’s brother had been more than angry; he’d been livid.

Addison remembered the woman. In fact, she was one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted to abandon Fiona there. Clutching, climbing, manipulative…

Miss Jones grimaced, drawing his attention to her mouth. Collette. Now that was the name of a seductress… Although her brand of charm wasn’t something a woman could conjure.

“She feared my illegitimacy would rub off on one of her daughters. Three days following your departure, she brought a petition to Miss Primm—signed by some twenty or so of the other parents.”

“But Miss Primm was aware of your circumstances when she hired you.” It wasn’t as though she’d been teaching at Eton or Oxford. Although not often, he had witnessed members of society treat his brother similarly, and his gut tightened at the thought of Collette having to endure such censure alone.

“She was faced with losing a third of her students if she were to keep me on. I don’t blame her. I definitely don’t blame you.” She shrugged and Addison’s gaze dropped to the delicate curve where her neck sloped into her shoulders. Vanilla. He’d all but tasted it there.

Her scandal had nothing to do with him, but the fact remained that he’d been alone with her in that stairwell, and that he’d kissed her. Regardless of who knew, his own conscience would plague him forever if he didn’t right her circumstances somehow.

And the most effective way to do that was to marry her. The notion that he was going to have to convince her of this was absurd.

“Your brother was not happy about it.” In the little time he’d spent with Chaswick, it was obvious that the baron doted on his sisters.

“I feel horrible for letting him down.” But she had not let her brother down, in truth. She’d done nothing wrong.

“He doesn’t blame you.”

“But he should. Will you answer something for me?” Without waiting for a response, she went on. “What all did he risk by acknowledging me and my sisters the way he did? With society, I mean?”

Her candor, he realized, was a part of her charm. Addison considered Chaswick’s position, his rank, and his wealth. Still… “He cannot have known, really,” he answered. “Society is a fickle but often unforgiving institution.”

Her eyes widened and then her expression all but collapsed into dismay. “But what exactly was he risking? Friendships?”

Any gently bred lady would know precisely what her brother had risked. Acceptance amongst the British elitewas something one mustn’t ever take for granted. Although not a tangible thing, once lost, it was rarely bestowed again. This hierarchy of power permeated the very air that they breathed.

Her eyes held a hint of pleading, and Addison sensed an inkling of why she’d refused him.

Because she was not, in truth, gently bred. She’d been raised in a cloak of secrecy.

“Your brother’s title is an old one, and he’s always been well respected.” He would explain this to her. “And for that, he possesses considerable influence. But think of that influence as money.”

“Diana made a good match.” She tilted her head and two lines appeared between her eyes.

“Upon which some of that influence was returned to him.”

Miss Jones blinked a few times as she seemed to grasp what he was telling her. “Are my failures bankrupting his influence?”

“Not hardly.” Addison stared pointedly across the room to where the baron and baroness conversed easily with the Marquess and Marchioness of Rockingham. “And he wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t wanted to.”

“But my presence in London now cannot be helping.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I knew before that it could not be easy for Chaswick and… but now that I’ve been dismissed from a such a reputable institution as Miss Primm’s…”

“There are things you’ll never have any control over.”

“This should not be one of them.” Her eyes took on a distant look, and he could practically feel the energy of her brain working to come up with her own solution.

“Have you always been so independent?” he asked.

“It’s not that I’m independent, it’s that I’m realistic. Other people won’t always be there to take care of my problems, to take care of my mother, and my sisters. If I don’t take care of them, who will?”

Because her father had had another family. “But you have your brother,” Addison pointed out.

“Nothing is guaranteed.” Her voice had fallen to almost a whisper. She wanted to trust in other people but couldn’t. Her independence was her cornerstone.

Getting a glimpse of the steely strength lurking in such a feminine package altered his view of her. She didn’t want to be taken care of. Was that what drove her passion for teaching?

“I suppose I ought to take the position in Scotland then.”

“Scotland?” What the devil?

“I’ve been offered a position at a village school in Dumbarton. I wasn’t going to take it because… Well, it’s so very far. But considering what you’ve just told me—”

“You aren’t going to Scotland.” It was true that by marrying her, his own standing would temporarily lose a hint of its luster, but as far as she and her brother were concerned, such a union would be considered a notable achievement. Having a sister as a duchess would not only reestablish her brother’s standing but lift it higher than it had been before.

“That won’t be necessary,” he added.

“But if what you say is true, it would be selfish of me to remain here in London with them.” Her eyes clouded with concern now, and she clutched his arm. Even through his shirt and jacket, her touch jolted him. It had him wanting to close the distance between them and identify which floral scent accompanied the sweetness of vanilla and mint.

“There’s another way for you to help them. If you—"

“Dinner is served.” Chaswick’s manservant chose a most inconvenient moment to make his announcements.

“Going to Scotland is the best way. I—I hadn’t realized. I mean, I suppose I knew, deep down.” The other guests in the room were moving about, pairing up with one another to escort or be escorted into the dining room.

He’d flustered her and that hadn’t been his intention at all. He’d merely thought…

“If I am not mistaken, Lady Sheffield awaits your escort into the dining room.” Collette pointed out, lifting her chin, looking quite brave and really…

Rather magnificent.

“Come driving with me tomorrow.” He was going about this all wrong.

“But should I be seen? I don’t want to cost Chase and Bethany any more influence than I already have. I’ll remain at home until it’s time for me to leave for Scotland.”

“You aren’t going to Scotland.” He covered her hand with his.

“But—"

“I’ll collect you at two o’clock.” He barely managed to get the words out before Lady Chaswick appeared at their side, along with the indomitable Lady Sheffield and an older gentleman Addison didn’t recognize.

Collette jerked her hand out from under his but not in time for such a curious gesture between a duke and an unemployed teacher to escape the two ladies’ notice.

“Your Grace?” Lady Chaswick made all the proper introductions. The man was Sir Grimsley, recently of Herefordshire, and based purely upon Lady Chaswick’s cunning expression, Addison had little doubt the man had been invited for the sole purpose of meeting Collette.

Frustrated to have been interrupted before matters were settled, but willing to wait to discuss it with her under more appropriate circumstances, Addison offered his elbow to the grand lady staring at him curiously.

And as he escorted Lady Sheffield into the dining room, he was certain on one account. Miss Collette Jones was not going to be traveling to Scotland. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Nor was she going to be courted by this Grimsley fellow.

* * *

Collette had always thoughtthe reason Chase hadn’t brought them out in public before had been to protect his mother’s sensibilities. How had she not realized that he had put his own position in society at risk?

Sitting through dinner her mind wandered all too easily. At least twice, Sir Grimsley, who Collette realized was the actual victim of Bethany’s matchmaking efforts, had had to repeat a question or comment he’d directed at her. He was pleasant enough, despite his advanced age, which she assumed was somewhere between forty and sixty, but…

“I imagine you were pleased to escape that place… that Miss Primm’s school for girls.” Sir Grimsley wrinkled his nose. “Not that teaching isn’t a noble endeavor, my dear, but I cannot help but opine that you would be far happier raising your own family.”

“But I was not pleased. I was most disappointed.” She spoke without thinking and hastily added, “Although you are correct in that most ladies prefer to have families of their own.”

“Indeed,” he commented, leaning closer. In that moment, she knew that, rather than move to Scotland, if she wished to, she could marry Sir Grimsley—or someone like him.

She was not completely without choices.

When Collette had become old enough to understand that her father lived with another family, and that that was not at all normal, she’d asked her mother how she could love a man who’d put them in such a situation. Her mother had told her that it had been her choice. She could marry a poor man, she’d told Collette, one who was just as likely to be unfaithful, or she could be mistress to a rich one and live a life of considerable luxury. Her mother had insisted that women did, contrary to common misconception, have choices.

The choices weren’t always what she hoped for, but they were hers to make.

Lord Grimsley was a choice. Scotland was a choice. Staying on as a companion to her sister-in-law might be a choice. She could even go to Easter Park and live with her mother and Sarah in the country.

The only option that was not at all viable was the duke’s outlandish proposal.

Not only did she lack what was required to be a duchess, she couldn’t begin to fathom what that was.

She snuck a peek down the table to where he sat at the opposite end, and almost as though he’d been waiting for that moment, he caught her with his cool gaze.

Three full seconds passed, three seconds of tingling awareness, before she could tear her stare away.

He was not like any other man she’d ever met. And not simply because he was a duke.

He had an unrelenting sense of honor and responsibility, and although incomprehensible, she couldn’t help but admire him for it. She knew far too well that such a quality in an aristocrat was rare. It likely had more to do with his character as a person than his actual position.

How many of his equals saw beyond his title to the man inside? How many of them realized he was just as vulnerable as anyone? Few, if any. And it was likely he wanted it that way.

But whether he’d wanted to or not, he’d shown that part of himself to her. And—Collette stared at her half-eaten plate—doing that had been good for him. No one should go through life hiding the person that they really were.

The realization caused her more than a little regret to have to refuse him.

If only he was a shopkeeper, an artist, or another teacher—or even a baronet. But a duke!

He had told her she was not going to be traveling to Scotland. He had suggested that he wanted to meet with Chase.

Was he mad? She was barely accepted amongst the circles of those who knew her as a baron’s sister. Did he truly believe society would accept her as a duchess?

He'd explained that power and influence had value. Were his coffers so full that they wouldn’t be affected by marrying so far beneath him? Because as much as she wished it, no one would forget who she was—what she was. Eventually, he would regret his unrelenting compulsion to uphold his honor. His entire family would be affected. Along with their children.

She shook her head. Why on earth was she even contemplating the idea?

“Would you like that, my dear?” Lord Grimsley touched her arm, and for the third time over the course of their conversation, she had to ask him to repeat his question.

“I'm sorry. Wool-gathering.” But in making her apology, she realized how insulting the admission was. What man in his right mind would want to make her his wife?

He merely smiled and nodded vaguely, and she realized that it wasn’t her that he wanted, in truth, but the dowry her brother would provide.

“Would you like to go driving with me tomorrow afternoon?”

Choices.

Bedwell had threatened to collect her at two.

Choices.

“I’m afraid I have a prior commitment,” she answered, “but perhaps another day?” If she hadn’t left for Scotland yet.

The very thought of being so far from her family sent her heart dropping. If she took the position, she’d be lucky to visit with her sisters even once a year. Seeing Diana and Sarah and her mother would be a major undertaking. She would miss out on knowing all the new things Sarah learned when already she was itching to ask her about the reading and to meet this special dog—all of that and also to warn her about the bogs. Who would warn her about the bogs?

She would miss Bethany and Chase, and she would miss her new niece or nephew.

She wouldn’t be able to visit Diana in her new home with the marquess. Her sister would move on, likely begin having babies of her own and she wouldn’t have Collette to discuss her doubts or fears.

Collette would miss all of it.

Panic shot through her. Scotland sounded like more of a prison sentence than a choice.

Perhaps she would discover she had more choices tomorrow after driving with the duke. He’d told her he’d liked the kiss.

Was it possible he had something else in mind altogether? Was he contemplating a less than honorable proposal?

But then why would he speak to her brother about it?

By the time dinner was over and the ladies rose to withdraw in order to allow the men to take their port, Collette’s mind had twisted itself up in knots.

One moment, she was contemplating teaching a class full of students in the far reaches of Scotland, the next, she was contemplating becoming a mistress. It had been good enough for her mother, surely it was something she ought to at least consider?

Or maybe she was wrong in imagining that. Lady Fiona had enjoyed learning Latin from her. And the duke wasn’t all that enamored with the idea of his sister attending Miss Primm’s.

Collette froze. Surely, that was it. He wanted to hire her to tutor his sister! Strolling along the corridor to the drawing room, she found herself feeling foolish. Likely this scenario had the most merit.

A moment after Collette stepped into the drawing room, Bethany met her gaze and then raised one brow, as though asking a question. Bethany had not missed the fact that the Duke of Bedwell’s hand had been on hers and her hand had been clutching his arm.

Collette merely shook her head and then shrugged.

Because she, herself, had more questions than answers.