The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) (29 page)

Ryder had to press his fingertips against his temples to try to regain his composure.

God, it’s worse than I thought. Gossip or not, she spoke without any restraint—with words that struck every fearful note in the choir screaming in my head.

The party was extremely crowded at this hour but Lady Durham stopped in the doorway of one of the grand salons with confidence. “You are a wise enough young man to make your own judgments. I am not surprised that word would have reached as far as the coasts of Cornwall about this girl. But here we are, Lord Hayle.”

“Can you point her out, Lady Durham? This girl that my uncle has lit upon?”

Fern gave him a wicked smile before nodding, openly thrilled to be a witness to the meeting. “There. That’s her! In a blue gown, near the windows. That’s the Blackwell girl!”

“Thank you, Lady Durham. You are too kind.” Ryder made his way across the room, his stride purposeful enough to cause a small stir as a few of the other guests took note and began to anticipate the confrontation.

Let them get an earful then and be damned. I’ve come too far to play some weak game out or shy from the battle.

“Miss Blackwell?”

She turned from her quiet study of the reflections in the glass, a stunning young woman with aristocratic features and lean lines set off by the color of a lioness to make an ordinary mortal man wish for the power to win her. “Yes?”

Ryder reminded himself that in this instance, he had no desire to win the lady and that her blonde beauty was a great part of the potential problem. “I am Ryder Maitland and while I’m sure you’re familiar with the name in light of your present ambitions toward my uncle the Duke of Chesterton, I thought it only fair to warn you that I am not going to stand aside while you make a shallow and thoughtless show of playing him for an old fool.”

She blinked in surprise and then her chin came up, a defiant light coming to life in her eyes. “Is that so? A shallow and thoughtless show? Is the Duke of Chesterton so easily led then?”

“Any man might be by a heartless young beauty, but I care too much for my uncle to allow him to make a mistake.”

“A mistake? Do I look like a mistake to you, Mr. Maitland?”

“You look, Miss Blackwell, like a girl who could very easily expect her looks to open any door she desired but I must warn you that
this
door and
my
family are not in a position to provide any such welcome. Whatever amusement or advantage you’ve garnered until this moment you may count it as lost.”

She faced him squarely, not in the least contrite but instead treating him to a look of open contempt and disregard that threatened to wither him to dust. “Your fair warning of an impolite lack of welcome and a ridiculous string of insults betrays only your own shallow thinking and thoughtlessness, sir. I’ve met street vendors with better manners and am tempted to inquire into your schooling so that I may send a letter to each and every tutor you ever possessed and shame them into retirement since they overlooked teaching you the most basic fundamentals of human decency and civility.” A curl fell down across her cheek with the vehemence of her speech but she merely shook it aside. “But I will do you the Christian courtesy of giving you a lesson in etiquette here and now! Dairymaid, duchess or drab, how dare you speak to a woman so! Withdraw or I swear I shall strike you, you—you heartless buffoon!”

It was his turn to blink in surprise. “Withdraw? I think not.”

The blow with her closed fan across the bridge of his nose was so swift and so sharp, it was all he could do not to stagger back. Gasps all around ensured that the pain he was feeling was no understatement and he reached up only to realize that he was bleeding slightly.

“Oh!” Her look shifted to horror but she held her ground. “I’m…terribly sorry.”

“You hit me,” he said in shock.

“You deserved it,” she whispered forlornly, then held out her lace handkerchief. “But may I say that most people go through the bother of introductions and small talk before seeking to call others names and cause a row?”

“Do they?” He waved off the handkerchief, the wound to his pride outpacing the stinging cut across the bridge of his nose. “Are you hinting that if I’d asked you to dance and gone through some polite ritual before calling you out that you wouldn’t have hit me just then?”

“Oh, no, I’m afraid I always hit bullies,” she replied with a sweet smile, her fighting spirit returning in a single breath. “It is a firm position of mine not to suffer poor behavior, even when apparently spurred on by ignorance.”

“Nor am I in the habit of suffering a—”

“Maitland!” The Duke of Chesterton hailed him from the doorway, an interruption that made Ryder’s breath catch in his throat in frustration. “Nephew, I didn’t realize you were in London! What a delightful surprise!”

Ryder turned toward his uncle, bracing himself for explanations when he spotted the lovely woman on Chesterton’s arm.

No. It can’t be.

“Here, let me introduce you to my nephew and heir presumptive, Lord Hayle, Ryder Maitland,” Elgin said. “Ryder, this is Miss Scarlett Blackwell and I see that you have already made the… acquaintance of her sister, Starr.”

He stared back at the woman in blue that he’d accosted and then back at the mirrored vision of blonde beauty wearing a distinct shade of emerald green who was looking back at him.

Twins. I—dear God, I have put my foot squarely in it! Why in Heaven’s name didn’t anyone mention that they were twins?

“Yes. An evening full of surprises,” Ryder answered, his voice hollow in his ears.

“What happened to you? Did you suffer a mishap of some kind, dear boy?” Elgin held out his handkerchief and this time, Ryder took it, too defeated to refuse the gesture.

Ryder shook his head, aware that his crime was too overt not to be reported. “No, I—”

“It’s my fault.” Miss Blackwell of the blue dress shocked him by stepping forward. “I’m afraid I am so clumsy. I meant to flirt with Lord Hayle who was being so charming and instead I have maimed him. I do hope you’ll accept my apologies, sir.”

Chesterton sighed. “Fans are a mystery and such cumbersome old-fashioned ornaments! I wonder that more mishaps are not had with them flapping and whipping about in overcrowded rooms.”

“Indeed.” Ryder nodded, dabbing at the last of the blood and then putting the handkerchief away. “No harm done.”

Scarlett Blackwell gave her sister a long look and whatever silent communication passed between them, Ryder marveled at it.

“Where is Mrs. Martin?” Scarlett asked.

“She went to get a small glass of punch and now I fear the worst. I think she’s lost in the crowd,” Starr answered. “I should have gone after her but I…knew it was unacceptable for me to wander about alone.”

“The rules are ridiculous,” Elgin said sympathetically. “To strand you here but all is well now.”

“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen, my sister and I should see to our chaperone’s comfort and perhaps withdraw for the evening. Mrs. Martin was complaining of a headache when we left the house and I worry that we are too careless with her health.” Scarlett gracefully released Chesterton’s arm to collect her sister’s in an elegant retreat. “I do hope you’ll forgive us for making an early night of it.”

“Of course!” Elgin was quick to respond, bending over Scarlett’s hand in a chivalrous gesture of farewell. “You are sweet to think of Mrs. Martin’s well-being.”

Scarlett blushed. “It’s the least anyone can do to think of others, Your Grace.”

“So you say.” Chesterton shook his head. “What a treasure, eh, Nephew?”

“It was very nice to meet you, Lord Hayle,” Scarlett said.

“Yes,” Starr echoed softly. “It was an experience I doubt I shall ever forget.”

“Good evening, ladies.”