In Need of a Duke (The Heart of a Duke 0.5)(6)

“Just a scratch,” he said.

She nodded as her body swayed closer to his. The sandalwood scent that clung to him danced about her until she was nearly intoxicated with the power of it.

His lips tilted at the corners in a roguish grin that indicated he knew exactly the path her thoughts had meandered.

His male arrogance killed all hint of foolish yearning and reminded her…

Aldora returned to her search, effectively dismissing him.

“Did you lose something?”

Other than her pride?

Of course she’d lost something. What, did he think she made it a habit of crawling around on her hands and knees through Hyde Park? She bit back the question. “Yes.” She took satisfaction in the exceedingly gracious response.

Aldora made her way back over to the infernal shrub that had ruined her day…well, that and the Marquess of St. James’s stallion.

“Here, let me.”

Aldora glanced over in surprise as he came and proceeded to shove back the shrubs and peer through for…”It’s a pendant. It is in the shape of a heart.”

“Is it?” His muffled response came from within the greenery.

She nodded, before remembering that he was not looking at her. “It’s very important.”

“Oh, I imagine it is.”

Aldora ignored his dry tone. She continued her search, crawling along the earth. She had to find it. She simply couldn’t lose it.

“Ahh, I believe this is what you’re looking for.”

She spun fast on her knees to face him.

The marquess sat back on his heels and dangled the glimmering gold directly in front of her eyes.

A cry escaped her. She plucked the gleaming object from his hands and clasped it close to her chest.

All her early annoyance with the marquess’s high-handedness dissipated. Here she was, these many years, believing the necklace was a foolish talisman. Even after dear Valera had found love with the Earl of Ravenswood, Aldora hadn’t believed in the magic of the pendant. But the idea of this important fabric of their childhood forever lost because of her foolishness made her heart race with panic.

He held his hand out. “May I?”

Aldora studied the heart-shaped pendant in her fingers before turning it over to him. He reached around her, his fingers remarkably close to her flesh but not touching her. The object fell around her neck, the thin gold strand settling reassuringly against her skin.

“There,” he said.

She touched the heart. It throbbed hot against her skin. Memory of Valera’s words on the day of her wedding danced through her mind. “You can’t fail with this necklace. Look how happy Elle and I are. Love will find you too. Just have faith.”

The Marquess of St. James continued to study her with a fiercely impenetrable expression.

Aldora drew her fingers back from the heart.

“Now I suppose you’ve learned your lesson for wandering down riding paths unchaperoned in the middle of the day.”

Fanciful thoughts of love for this boorish lord slipped away. Oh, if she weren’t so obscenely grateful to the man, she’d have slammed her heel atop his immaculate, gleaming black Hessian boot.

She smiled, holding back the retort on her lips. It wouldn’t do to point out that it was a good ways off from the ‘middle of the day’. “Thank you very much, my lord. I am forever indebted to you.”

Even without her spectacles, she did not fail to miss the way his eyes went first round, before narrowing into small slits. A grin curved one corner of his lips. He sketched an immaculate bow. Before she could wonder overlong at his odd reaction, his amused voice cut into her thoughts.

“I must at least know the name of the young lady whose debt I’ve earned.”

Aldora dropped into a curtsy. “Lady Aldora Arlette Adamson.”

Then knowing it was the stuff of intrigue she’d read about in the pages of many a Gothic novel, she turned on her heel without another word and left her future husband staring after her in what she suspected, or hoped, was intrigue.





Michael Knightly stared at Lady Aldora Arlette Adamson’s retreating figure. A riot of brown, auburn-kissed locks swirled about her lean waist.

The young lady had mistaken him for the Marquess of St. James.

He grinned. And he’d been more than content to let her continue believing so, because for a short time he’d found himself intrigued. No, that was putting it mildly. He was enlivened by the cheeky-mouthed, wide-eyed young lady. And ladies did not intrigue him. At least innocent respectable ladies in the market for a husband didn’t.

Michael returned to his horse and swiftly mounted the obedient creature. He ran his hands along her sleek neck and unbidden thoughts of Lady Aldora’s delicate neck surfaced. Something about Lady Aldora’s unashamed strength had crushed the ennui that had dogged his every step.

An approaching rider drew his attention. He looked up as his brother, the Marquess of St. James, drew alongside him.

Removing his black brimmed hat, St. James beat it against his leg. “Where’d you go off to?”

Memories of the winsome creature flitted through Michael’s mind. At just a half foot shorter than his own height, compared to other ladies, she would be a Spartan warrior princess among mere mortals. His body heated as he recalled the satiny smoothness of her flesh.