How to Seduce a Duke (11 page)

The moment Blackstone left the drawing room, what Mary took to be the second part of the elderly quartet’s scheme was put into place.

Lotharian
eyed Lady
Upperton
and tugged upon his earlobe.

“Dear gel, the moment I distract Lady Tidwell—you will know the moment if you watch carefully—you must at once appear at your beau’s side. Your opportunity shall not be available to you for long, so the sooner you can convince him to quit the room, so much the better.”

Mary reached out and took Lady
Upperton’s
chubby little hand. “Lady
Upperton
, I do appreciate your efforts, but truly—”

Her round face glowed. “I know you appreciate my help, which is why it so gladdens me to assist you in all ways. It has been so very long since I felt so needed.”

Oh, that wasn’t at all what she had been trying to say, but it was too late now. Mary winced. She had no choice but to play along.

Lady
Upperton
patted the top of Mary’s hand, then slipped her own from her grasp. “
Lotharian
beckons again. It is my moment. Watch for your opportunity!” With that, the tiny woman
barreled
like a hogshead through the throng, paying no heed to the perturbed guests she left scattered in her wake.

Mary cupped her hands over her eyes momentarily.
When would this evening end?
Never before had she endured so many face-reddening moments in one night.

“Darling.”

Mary lowered her hand and looked up to see Lord
Lotharian
standing before her, with Lord
Wetherly
beside him.

Lotharian
grinned at her. “Miss
Royle
, I just made the acquaintance of Viscount
Wetherly
, the famous war hero. Of course, I wanted to introduce him to you, but I have just learned that you are already acquainted.”

“Oh, yes, Lord
Lotharian
, we met only minutes ago.” Mary turned to Lord
Wetherly
and felt her cheeks redden with the embarrassment from this insane scheme.

“Are you ill, Miss
Royle
?” True concern etched the corners of the viscount’s vivid blue eyes.

She opened her mouth to assure him she was not, but it was
Lotharian
who responded.

“Miss
Royle’s
cheeks do appear somewhat heated.”
Lotharian
withdrew a handkerchief from inside his coat and dabbed his own high-set cheekbones. “I daresay, it is rather close in here. Perhaps a stroll in the fresh air would revive you, Miss
Royle
.”

“I-I suppose it would.” Mary looked from
Lotharian
to the viscount. “Shall we all go together?”

Lotharian
flapped his handkerchief in the air. “Nothing would please me more, Miss
Royle
, though I promised
Gallantine
I would introduce him to Sir Corning.” He looked to the viscount. “I wonder if you, Lord
Wetherly
, would do me the favor of seeing to Miss
Royle
?”

A most attractive smile appeared on
Wetherly’s
lips. “I shall be honored, sir.” He straightened his back and excitedly offered his arm to Mary. “Shall we, Miss
Royle
?”

She took Lord
Wetherly’s
proffered arm and shyly looked up at him through her lashes. “Absolutely.”

Good heavens.
The scheme was actually working!

Mary could not believe her luck.

Whyever
had she doubted Lord
Lotharian’s
plan to see her married off? Obviously, he had a fine mind when it came to matchmaking.

Mayhap tonight was not nearly as dreadful as she had first believed.

M
ary shivered as she and Lord
Wetherly
stepped out upon the paving stones leading into the Brower garden.

The air in the courtyard was cool, especially when compared to the heat of the drawing room, but it was not the temperature of the night that sent Mary’s body all aquiver.

Reading her shaking as a need for warmth, Lord
Wetherly
hurried back inside and collected her shawl from a footman.

When he returned but a moment later, she turned her head and smiled at him as he settled the wrap lightly about her shoulders.

She pulled the shawl close about her, wanting to appear grateful, but the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck still prickled up from her skin.

It was not the chill that discomfited her.

Nor the excitement of walking with the man she would ultimately marry.

It was his wicked brother.

For though the sweeping garden ahead appeared deserted but for the two of them, Mary knew that Blackstone and his ready-fisted opponent lurked somewhere nearby.

“Would you like to walk down the pathway? Lady Brower mentioned a moon garden near the well. It is said that white flowers scent the night with sweet fragrance unmatched during the daylight hours.” Lord
Wetherly
leveled
his eyes with hers.

For several moments, without moving from where they stood in the golden light shining through the French windows, they stared dreamily into each other’s eyes.

Or, at least she tried to match the sleepy look she saw in his eyes. But for some reason, she was having a devil of a time doing it.

“I-I” Mary broke her gaze and peered off into the moonlit garden.

She could not help thinking that at any minute the beastly duke could leap out from behind the boxwoods to wreak havoc.

“Forgive me, Miss
Royle
, I should not have asked you to leave your sponsor and stray from the rout.” Lord
Wetherly
leaned on his cane and lowered his gaze to the pavers.

“I beg your pardon, Lord
Wetherly
.” Mary swung her head around to look at him again. “You have done naught wrong, I assure you.”

“I should not have suggested a walk... alone.”

Blast. She was going to lose him if she didn’t focus her attention better.

“Lord
Wetherly
, I would greatly enjoy a walk in the garden with you. Nothing would please me more.” Mary turned her head slightly to the side and gazed coyly up at him. “However, I neglected to inform my sisters where I was headed before you and I left the drawing room. I only thought to remain near the house... in the event they come to look for me. You understand, don’t you?”

“I do, and I admit, I am greatly relieved.” The viscount exhaled a sigh. “For an instant I was sure my invitation might have been misinterpreted and that you thought me a horrible rake intent on whisking you into the darkness for a wickedly passionate kiss.”

“Lord
Wetherly
—”

“Please, do call me Quinn. I know we have only just properly met, but I feel... I know you so very well.”

Though she had no experience in the stages of love, she was fairly certain he was smitten, and because of this, a proposal was likely in the weeks to come.

She could almost feel it.

Mary’s head began to dance with thoughts of a future with...
Quinn.

She could see their wedding clearly in her mind even now. They would live in a grand house in the country. They would have three beautiful children, all with Quinn’s golden hair.

And... and... Suddenly she was being summoned back into the moment.

“Miss
Royle
?” There was that concerned look in his eyes again. “Miss
Royle
?”

W-what? Oh goodness. Focus your attention, Mary. Focus!

“
Mary,
please call me Mary.” She laughed softly. “Do forgive my inattention, please. I confess, I was off gathering wool.”

She looked into his eyes and he smiled.

God, he’s so beautiful when he smiles.

“And what so consumed your thoughts,
Mary
?”

Well now, that was a good question. Just what
had
she been thinking? Or, rather, what might he like to hear?

She fluttered her eyelashes.

Lud
, was that a bit much?
She squinted her eyes and studied him.

No, no, he is smiling. Everything is well.

It is. Has to be.

And then, she suddenly knew just how to answer his question. “I wondered if I would think you a horrible rake if... ”—
go on, say it
—“if you kissed me
here,
right now.” She widened her eyes in feigned innocence.

Quinn’s eyes widened too, and he paused for several seconds before his look of surprise was replaced with one of eagerness. “I suppose there is only one way to know the answer to your question.”

A tattoo thrummed in her chest and in her veins.

He was actually going to do it. At any moment, Lord
Wetherly
was going to press his lips to hers.

Zeus, should she close her eyes? Or wait until their mouths touched? Close them. Yes. That felt right.

Mary squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her lips upward and waited for Quinn, the man she would one day marry, to kiss her.

Any moment now. Any... moment.

Suddenly, she heard him shuffle his feet most peculiarly, and then the sound of his breath left his lungs.

A cool swoosh of air blew between them, and she knew for certain he had moved away from her.

Could she have read his ardor incorrectly?

She was about to lift her lids and blame her wanton behavior on the wine—well, she had no tolerance for the juice of grapes, so it made perfect sense, didn’t it?

In the next instant, before she could say a word, he swept her into his arms and crushed her against his hard, muscled chest.

She scarcely had a moment to gasp a small breath before his lips came down and claimed hers, hot and moist, moving so... so... passionately.

Oh my... oh God.

All at once, her legs softened to the consistency of marmalade, and heat surged through her entire body.

Heavens above, she never knew a kiss could be like this.

Or that Quinn, gentle Quinn, was the sort of man who could make her head spin so deliciously.

She had to be in love.

Of course, that was it. There was no other explanation for it. She and Quinn were meant to be together. She ought to tell him. Admit her feelings now.

He had to be feeling it too. Had to be. No one could kiss like
this
without being in love.

Do not think, Mary. Just tell him.

Tell him!

And so, the moment his mouth lifted from hers, she confessed her feelings. “I-I think I love you.”

Then she heard his voice. “Stop!”

How odd. He sounded so far away.

“Stop at once!” he pleaded.

“W-what?” She held her eyes closed, not wishing to break the moment, and leaned into him for another kiss.

“Rogan, I
demand
it.”

Rogan?
Mary suddenly went stiff. She wrenched her head toward the garden. Her eyes flew open, expecting to see Quinn’s beastly brother stepping from the bushes, just as she’d imagined. Just as she’d feared.

Instead, she saw Quinn standing beside her.
Quinn?

Then w-who had been kissing her? She turned her head and blinked up.
Oh perdition.

“Love me, do you, Miss
Royle
?” The Black Duke, still crushing her against his chest, chuckled wickedly. “And here I thought you despised me.”

Tears pushed into Mary’s eyes. “Let go of me, you—you vulgar beast.”

“You heard her, Rogan. Do it now!” Quinn shouted. “I can’t believe you did this. You are my brother. My
brother
!”

“Very well, I will release you, Miss
Royle
,” the duke told her in an insulting whisper. “Anything for the woman who loves me.” He straightened and settled her to her feet.

Mary glared at him. Her breath was coming so fast she spat out her words. “How dare you!” And for the second time, she drew back her hand and landed a stinging slap across his cheek.

She could not even bring herself to look back at Quinn as she flung open the French windows and ran, blinded by tears of humiliation, inside the house.

“Let her go, Quinn. For now.” He rubbed his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I daresay she might need a few minutes to settle her head.”

Quinn looked from the French windows to Rogan. “I ought to level you for what you’ve done.”

“But you won’t because I did it for your own good.” When Quinn opened his mouth to protest, Rogan raised a hand to silence him. “I know an apology is not nearly enough, Quinn, but I vow someday you
will
thank me for this.”