The Duke's Dastardly Mistake (Unlikely Pairs Book 2) Page 2

  Feeling humbled and grateful, Lydia offered him the best smile she could muster in the situation. Then, scrambling to sit up, she felt her thick, curly locks cascade down her back as she threw her arms around Levi's neck and exclaimed, “Thank you, Levi.”

  His arms instantly went around her back, pulling her into him. She relished the feeling of security she felt being in his embrace and was loath to let go. Finally, she pulled back and felt the fabric of her shirt fall down, exposing an indecent amount of skin to Levi's view. She quickly tried to make it right, but it was too late, he'd already seen more than he should have.

  Levi gasped, his eyes burning into her shoulder.

  “It would appear my humiliation will never be complete,” she muttered.

  Ignoring her, Levi looked directly into her eyes and admitted, “You have the most beautiful shoulder I've ever seen, and I've seen my fair share.”

  Heat suffused her as she caught his intent gaze with her own. “You shouldn't have seen that.”

  “But I did,” he admitted huskily, and her belly filled with heat.

  For the briefest of moments, Lydia was actually tempted to let go of the tattered fabric in her hands and give him another view of her shoulder. The way he was looking at her made her feel vulnerable, yet beautiful. She'd never been looked at that way before.

  “I should be a gentleman and take you home, but I have a confession to make,” he whispered hoarsely, intruding upon her thoughts.

  Lydia held her breath in eager anticipation of what he'd say. Suddenly she wasn't shaking anymore. “Go on,” she urged when it seemed as if he'd never speak.

  “I have a terrible desire to kiss you right now.”

  She inhaled sharply, wondering how truthful she dared be with him. Finally, she decided to throw caution to the wind and admitted, “I've wanted to kiss you all night.”

  Her words were enough permission for him. Levi reached forward and gathered her into his arms and pressed his lips so tenderly against hers that it took her breath away. She'd expected him to react with hunger and urgency, but instead, his touch was gentle, causing a strange stirring to take place in her heart.

  Levi pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. Lydia searched his eyes, noticing the golden ring around his pupil seemed to grow even brighter. He let out a shaky breath. “I shouldn't have done that.”

  “Why not?” she asked, confused. “We both wanted it.”

  “No,” he said, pulling back and shaking his head back and forth in a self-deprecating manner. “It's not what I wanted. I wanted so much more.”

  Her insides melted at his admission but the strange emotions she felt left her confused. She hated Levi Worthington, so why was she suddenly so interested in kissing him? Why did she feel like she'd die if he pulled back from their embrace? Why did she feel as if she could stare into his eyes forever?

  Feeling impulsive, she whispered, “I wanted more, too.”

  For a second, his intriguing eyes darkened before he inhaled sharply and quickly closed them. “Lydia, you don't know what you are saying.”

  It was true, she didn't know entirely, but she was willing to take the risk. Her hand cupped his face, bringing it back down to hers. Feeling daring, she pressed her lips to his and kissed him hungrily. It didn't take long for him to respond, though she could tell he was exercising an inordinate amount of self-control.

  She suddenly felt challenged, as if she needed to prove to herself that she could make Levi Worthington bend to her will. She wrapped her fingers in his hair and deepened the kiss. He actively participated for a moment, but just as things were about to go where they'd never gone before, Levi pulled back swiftly and suddenly, causing her torn shirt to fall from her shoulder once more. This time she was too incensed to notice.

  Lydia's eyes narrowed into slits. “What are you doing? Do you not enjoy my kiss?”

  His eyes turned downcast. “It's not that.”

  “No? Then what is it?”

  “I shouldn't have brought you here.”

  His words angered her. “But you did, and with the full intent of teaching me a lesson. So do it, Levi, teach me what you want me to know.”

  Several seconds passed in silence before Levi reached out and gently lifted the fabric of her shirt back into place in an attempt to cover her exposed skin. His fingers lingered though as if he couldn't bear to stop touching her.

  “Lydia, I think—”

  Just then, a booming voice interrupted them. “Get your hands off of her this instant.”

  Lydia's heartbeat quickened into an irritatingly fast cadence the moment Levi Worthington, the Duke of Ludington, waltzed into the ballroom and was announced by the footman. She peevishly noticed that every woman, young and old, stopped what they were doing and stared at him with appreciation, even her own mother who was by her side gave him a once over. She gritted her teeth and glanced away, unwilling to let his devilishly good looks have the same effect on her.

  Her eyes quickly scanned the crowds until they rested upon Lord Whitworth, a man she'd recently become acquainted with due to his close friendship with her father. His eyes met hers, and his head dipped into an almost imperceptible nod, indicating that he was ready to put her plan into motion. There was only one final thing to do before they could get started.

  Lydia let her eyes roam around the room once more, in search of her best friend, Alexandra. She smiled the moment she saw her on the arm of her new husband, the Marquess of Emberson. Alexandra smiled, dropped her husband's arm and hurried across the room to where Lydia was standing next to her mother, drinking a glass of ratafia.

  “Alexandra, you came!” she exclaimed as Alexandra approached.

  “I told you I would.”

  Lydia laced her arm through Alexandra's and turned to her mother, “Can I have permission to walk around the room with Lady Emberson?”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  Lydia placed her almost empty glass on the tray of a passing of footman; then the two slowly walked away.

  Alexandra lowered her voice and leaned in close and asked, “What is it you wanted to tell me?”

  With a sparkle in her eye, Lydia confessed quietly, “I'm planning on allowing myself to be compromised tonight.”

  Alexandra gasped.

  “Shush,” Lydia scolded as she swatted her arm with her fan. “Don't draw any attention to us. I won't tell you the rest if you are going to react in such a manner.”

  “I'm sorry, but I cannot believe I heard you correctly. Whyever would you wish to be compromised?”

  “To teach a certain gentleman a lesson.”

  Alexandra shook her head, not seeing the genius behind Lydia's plan. “Who do you wish to teach a lesson to, and how would allowing yourself to be compromised do that?”

  “I can't answer the first question, but the second one is simple enough. I wish to show this man that I can do whatever I wish and that he has no power over me.”

  There was more to it, but Lydia was unwilling to divulge everything to her friend.

  “But do you have to do so in such an extreme fashion? You do realize if you're caught, your father will demand satisfaction and you will be forced to be wed to...who is the lucky gentleman anyway?”

  “Lord Whitworth.”

  Alexandra groaned. “You are playing with fire, Lydia. You do realize this, don't you?”

  “I do not seek your approval; I only wish for you to aid me in my plan. If all goes accordingly, the only person who will know of my ruin is the gentleman I wish to teach a lesson to.”

  “And Lord Whitworth, of course.”

  “Oh,” she said, waving her fan in front of her face, “I do not worry about him, he helped me devise this scheme. He has no intentions of wedding me, nor I him, so it will all work out splendidly.”

  A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach made Alexandra doubt that. “What is it you need me to do?”

  “I need you to occupy my mother and make sure she isn't aware of my prolon
ged absence. That is all.”

  “Oh, Lydia, that's simple enough, but I'm still uncertain whether your idea is wise.”

  “Alexandra,” Lydia said condescendingly, “there was a time when you would have been the mastermind behind such adventures. Please tell me marriage has not made you so dull.”

  Alexandra flinched. “No,” she finally sighed. “If anything, it has made me more adventurous.”

  “Well, now is your time to prove it. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?”

  Lydia let go of Alexandra's arm, glanced once more towards Lord Whitworth who nodded his acknowledgment then quietly slipped from the room. She headed towards the library and waited anxiously for Lord Whitworth to join her.

  Her hands felt clammy as she paced back and forth across the rug before the hearth. A small inkling of doubt crept into her mind as she waited to put her plan into action. She didn't really want to kiss Lord Whitworth, in fact, the thought made her shudder with repulsion. It wasn't that he wasn't attractive, but he was definitely not Levi.

  Blast that man; she cursed silently as her hands balled into angry fists. Why did he have to be so vexing? Her mind wandered back to the night Levi had taken her to the tavern to teach her a lesson. Her feelings of irritation had quickly turned to something else as he'd kissed her so tenderly in the room he'd taken her to after that vile man had tried to attack her.

  Something had changed in her that night, and when Lord Emberson had intruded upon the intimate scene and demanded Levi make right his actions, Lydia had actually hoped that he would ask her father for her hand. Instead, he'd insulted her in such a way; she knew she'd never recover.

  The foolhardy plan that was about to unfold was a result of his refusal to marry her, his blatant insistence that his hand would not be forced by anyone, not even the Marquess of Emberson. He promised he'd never speak of her ruin to anyone, therefore allowing her to return to society untainted. But though no one was aware of what happened between them, save Lord Emberson, she knew she was forever tainted—tainted by his all-consuming touch that had branded her for life.

  Lydia jumped as the library door pushed open. Turning around, she forced a smile as Lord Whitworth entered the room, shutting the door tightly behind him and rushing to her side. He grabbed one of her gloved hands and pulled it to his mouth where he placed a lingering kiss that made her want to recoil from his touch.

  She forced another smile as his bluish gray eyes met hers. He wasn't ugly, not by any means, but he could never compare to Levi. His stocky build was in direct contrast to Levi's slender form and, without seeing them side by side, Lydia knew Lord Whitworth had to be at least a head shorter than the Duke. Where Levi's hair was dark and wavy, Lord Whitworth's was as golden as the sun.

  “Is he coming?” Lydia asked as she quickly withdrew her hand from his lingering touch.

  “I did what I was supposed to do. If he's as predictable as we hope, he'll be here any minute. Shall we move into place?” he asked as his hand moved in the direction of the leather sofa sitting before the fire.

  Lydia swallowed loudly and slowly nodded her head. Lord Whitworth indicated she go first, which she did, then nervously sat on the edge of the sofa, her back ramrod straight. He sat close to her and wound his hand around her waist. His touch made her uncomfortable, but she knew it had to be done.

  For months, Lydia had been planning this moment. She wanted to show Levi that she didn't care about him, that he wasn't the only man who desired her. She wanted to teach him that she could, and would, do whatever she wished, regardless of his opinion. And maybe she truly did have ulterior motives. Maybe she wanted to make him jealous and show him that he'd been wrong to refuse to wed her.

  The fact that she'd once been willing to wed him had startled her to her core. What little affection she once held for him had now turned to bitter hatred.

  “Let's get started,” Lord Whitworth urged as he dipped his head to her neck and began kissing her soft skin.

  Lydia felt her heartbeat pulse violently beneath his lips, and it had nothing to do with passion. His hands wound into her hair as he forced her face towards his and quickly sought her lips. She had to hold back her impulse to wretch as his moist lips moved eagerly over her own.

  “You must pretend like you like this,” he managed to say between kisses.

  Lydia knew he was right. If Levi were to walk in on them now, he'd think Lord Whitworth was forcing himself upon her. She closed her eyes, blocking Lord Whitworth from view, and tried to pretend it was Levi she was kissing and not him.

  Her hands went mechanically to his shoulders, and she pressed herself closer to him, praying Levi would hurry up and get there. Meanwhile, Lord Whitworth's kiss grew more passionate, and soon he was prying her lips open with his tongue.

  Lydia quickly pulled back and asked, “What if he doesn't come? How long should we wait?”

  “Give it time,” he said impatiently before jerking her head to his own.

  Lydia's lips felt bruised by Lord Whitworth's kisses, but she felt like it was too late to turn back on her plans. She wouldn't allow these kisses to be for nothing.

  Lord Whitworth's hand began moving down her sides when she heard the door burst open. A quick glance told her it was Levi and she suddenly found herself participating more eagerly in the kiss. She wound her hands in Lord Whitworth's hair and groaned.

  “What in tarnation are you doing?” he roared, taking angry steps towards the pair.

  Lydia and Lord Whitworth quickly pulled apart, feigning guilt at being discovered in such a compromising position. Both of them rose quickly to their feet.

  Levi's eyes were dark as he bore down on Lord Whitworth, grabbing the man by the collar of his jacket and slamming him against the wall. “You have no right to touch Miss Phelps in such a manner.”

  “Levi,” Lydia screamed as she tried to pull him off of Lord Whitworth. “This is none of your affair. Leave this instant.”

  His eyes lowered to hers, and she nearly gasped in surprise at the look of pain she saw in their depths. “Stand back, Miss Phelps,” he hissed.

  His venomous tone caused her insides to curl, and she quickly withdrew her hands from him. Taking a step back, she watched as Levi planted a facer to Lord Whitworth.

  Lydia cringed as his fist made contact with Lord Whitworth's nose, dark red blood splattering across the carpet.

  Lord Whitworth grabbed his nose and exclaimed, “That was uncalled for.”

  “No, I fear it was not. You are lucky I'm not going to call you out.”

  His words seemed to give Lord Whitworth steam. He squared his shoulders and spat, “You are in no position to do such a thing. Have you a vested interest in the girl?”

  Lydia held her breath as she waited for his response.

  “She's my sister's best friend. Therefore, I feel a brotherly responsibility towards her.”

  Disappointment consumed her.

  “Quite a passionate response for someone who merely feels brotherly affection for her.”

  Levi ran one hand through his messed up hair. “You will stay here, both of you,” he clarified, refusing to make eye contact with Lydia. “Until I return with Lord Phelps.”

  Lydia gasped as Levi made to exit the room, having made his intentions clear. She ran to catch up with him and pulled his arm forcefully until he came to a halt. He still refused to look at her, staring straight ahead instead as she watched his jaw twitched angrily.

  “Levi, don't do this, don't go to my father.”

  “Your games have to stop, Miss Phelps,” he bit out acerbically. “It's apparent you will never learn from your folly.”

  Before she could respond, Levi pulled his arm free from her grasp and stalked angrily from the room, leaving Lydia standing with her mouth agape.

  Soon, Lord Whitworth joined her, placing one hand gently on her shoulder while the other held a handkerchief to his bloody nose. “Don't worry, Miss Phelps; he can't force my hand.”

  She looked at him a
nd frowned. “No, but my father can. What should we do, Lord Whitworth? Shall we run?”

  “Where would we run to? There is only one way out of this room, and I fear we'd get caught trying to escape.”

  Lydia groaned, hiding her face behind her hands. “I can't do this, Lord Whitworth. I can't face my father.”

  “It looks as if you have no choice,” he said grimly as Levi returned, an incensed Lord Phelps at his side.

  Waves of anger flooded over Levi in rapid succession. He could hardly think straight as he huffed to the ballroom in pursuit of Lord Phelps. How dare Lydia throw herself into the arms of Lord Whitworth? Seeing her kissing him made him want to wretch.

  He found Lord Phelps in a corner conversing with Lord Heathrow. He rudely interrupted the men saying curtly, “Lord Phelps, your presence is needed at once.”

  The gray-haired man looked startled by the Duke's abruptness. “Whatever is wrong, Your Grace?”

  “It's a private matter.”

  Lord Phelps turned to Lord Heathrow and said, “You must excuse me, my lord.”

  “Indeed, I must,” Lord Heathrow quipped, eyeing Levi with a touch of disdain.

  Without further explanation, Levi turned on his heal and began marching back towards the library. As soon as they were free from the ballroom and the prying eyes of the ton, Levi hissed, “It is time you put your daughter in her place.”

  Lord Phelps looked nonplussed. “What do you mean? What is wrong with Lydia?”

  “She's allowed herself to be compromised.”

  Lord Phelps gasped. “By whom?”

  “See for yourself,” he muttered as he pushed the library door open with a flourish, revealing Lydia and Lord Whitworth standing sheepishly in the center of the room.

  Lord Phelps rushed to his daughter while Levi stood in front of the door, blocking access from other people who may have wished to enter.

  “Lydia, what is the meaning of this?”

  Levi watched as her cheeks heated with embarrassment and tried to squash the seed of pity that was trying to sprout. No, he would not allow her to manipulate him again. He'd had enough of her antics and the power she seemed to hold over him. There was only one way to be free from her, and that was to see her wed to someone else.