How to Seduce a Duke (13 page)

“Oh, this ain’t
goin
’ to do it.” The heavyset woman spun around and started for the door to the passage. “I’ll be
needin
’ some vinegar.” She paused when she reached the threshold and looked back over her shoulder. “Shall I fetch some more chocolate? Maybe some tea for you, Miss Anne?”

Anne did not turn around to reply. Anger blazed in the golden bursts of her moss green eyes. She shook her head furiously.

“Well, then, I’ll be back in a tick or two.” Mary watched Mrs.
Polkshank
disappear into the passage.

Anne immediately addressed
Elizabeth
. “Sister, will you please tell Mary that Cook must go.”

Mary frowned. “She is not going anywhere, Anne, and if you wish to discuss our staff, you may speak directly to me.”

Two bright red dots appeared on Anne’s cheeks. “Very well, I shall. Where did you find her, Mary, on a street corner in

Elizabeth
took a large bite of her muffin and carefully lifted her cup to wash it down with a gulp of chocolate. “I do not agree with you, Anne. We never had meals in the country like Cook’s. I think Mrs.
Polkshank
is quite talented. And she certainly keeps a cleaner house than Aunt Prudence’s thief of a housekeeper did.”

“She is quite gifted in the kitchen—and very economical,” Mary added. “She always has at least a shilling or two spare after marketing. You must agree that with her creativity in piecing together meals and her skill in preparation, it almost slips my mind how limited our budget is.”

“Our only shortages of funds are due to your frugality, Mary. We are not in want of coin. Why, with the portions we’ve been given, we could live like kings for several years at least.”

“Or
princesses,
at the very least.”
Elizabeth
hid her grin behind the lip of her cup.

Mary shook her head. “Anne, you are not angry because I engaged Mrs.
Polkshank
. You are not truly angry, at least not this morn, about my handling of our household accounts.”

“Really, Mary, am I not?” Anne folded her arms over her chest.

“No, you are still fuming over last night.”

Anne lowered her head, as if she’d been studying the cut-work edge on the serviette upon her lap. “Lady
Upperton
had just introduced me to a most diverting young man—an earl.” The green rim of her eyes grew clear and sharp as she looked up again. “And then, you come rushing into the drawing room, hair all mussed, and within an instant we are all standing outside the Brower residence waiting for the carriage to scoop us up and transport us home.”

“Blackstone kissed me.” Mary felt her voice tremble. “That wicked rake did everything he could to make a mockery of me before his brother. He did it because somehow he knows I have set my cap at Lord
Wetherly
. That is the only explanation.”

Elizabeth
settled her hand on Mary’s forearm, but her attention drifted to Anne. “We had to leave. Our sister was upset, and who is to say what Blackstone might have done had he found Mary inside.”

Anne pushed back her chair and studied Mary. “What I do not understand is why a simple kiss, unwanted or not, rattled you so.
Our
Mary would have slapped him. Or worse.”

“I did.”

“But what he did brought you to tears. Now, were you some simpering miss just out, I might expect sobs. Might expect howls. But not from you.”

Elizabeth
turned and stared at Mary as well, as though she were suddenly seeing her in daylight for the first time. “I agree, Mary. Until Father died, you were so strong, confident, and,
lud
, so fiercely competitive. You would not have allowed anyone to get the better of you.”

“Why now, Mary?” Anne said.

Mary settled her elbows atop her lap and rested her head in her hands. “I do not know. I really do not.”

She looked up and was surprised to feel hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “Until Papa died, I knew who I was. I knew my place in this world. But now I feel so lost.”

“Anne and I feel just as you do. This is a new world for us, Mary,”
Elizabeth
told her. “We will find our way... with time.”

“All I know is this money we have in our coffers is all that stands between us and the workhouse.” Mary straightened her spine. “We must use it wisely to construct secure futures.”

When Anne spoke, her voice was now soft and soothing. “And Blackstone is undermining your efforts to forge a future, a life, with Lord
Wetherly
. That is what frightens you so.”

Mary peered down at the spot on the tablecloth and said nothing.

There was a knock at the door, but no one except
MacTavish
paid the interruption any heed.

Lady
Upperton’s
mission to introduce the sisters into society had been a success last evening, and all that morning visiting cards and invitations to fetes, musicales, and routs had collected on the mantelpiece.

Mary swiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “The duke is stubbornly determined to keep me at arm’s length from Quinn... Lord
Wetherly
. And I can do naught to prevent it.”

“You
could
,”
Elizabeth
said. “At least, the old Mary could.”

Mary blinked back the last bit of moisture in her eyes. “You’re right. Why should I stand by, awaiting his next ploy to humiliate me before his brother? I just need to be clever to keep him in check. To distract him so he does not have the time or opportunity to drive a wedge between Lord
Wetherly
and me.”

“That’s our Mary.” Anne rose from her chair and circled around the table. She hugged her just as
MacTavish
stepped from the passage and into the dining room.

Mary stood and raised her fist in the air most dramatically. “Blackstone, you have met your equal.”

“Have I now?” came a deep, all-too-familiar voice from the passage.

Mary thought her eyes would pop from their sockets the moment she realized who was standing just behind the butler.

She gulped down the huge lump that suddenly seemed to be lodged in her throat.

“Oh my Lord.
Blackstone
,” she gasped.

The duke lifted his eyebrows significantly. “My dear Miss
Royle
, I understand that you are fresh from the wilds of
Cornwall
, so I choose to believe you did not intend to insult me. My title is not ‘My Lord Blackstone.’ I am a duke. Therefore, the polite way to address me is
Your Grace.
”

“Oh, I do apologize—I... I didn’t say ‘My Lord Blackstone. I did pause after ‘Oh my Lord,’” Mary stammered.

“Miss
Royle
, I know what I heard,” he insisted.

“No, no. You’ve got it all wrong.” She looked pleadingly at her sister. “Anne, fetch a sheet of paper and a pen. I will show you, Your Grace.”

“Just... say it again.”

Mary looked back at him to oblige. Even started to open her mouth. But then she saw the mischievous glint in the duke’s eyes and his wide, crooked grin.

Blast.
She had allowed him to do it again. Allowed him to humiliate her.

Well then, she’d give him this one. He was quick, and she hadn’t been prepared.

But this would be the very last time.

The very last.

“P
lease do forgive me, Your Grace,” Mary said most politely to the duke, though in her head, her tone was anything but civil. “I assure you my grasp of forms of address is quite adequate. Though I confess, I had not expected to find you in our dining room at this hour—or any other.”

Mary edged past her sisters to reach Blackstone and extended her hand. “Let us begin again. Welcome to our home,
Your Grace.
” Mary dipped into an overemphasized curtsy deep enough to honor the Prince Regent himself.

When she rose, she glanced at her sisters, who, though appearing obviously shaken that the infamous Black Duke was actually standing inside their home, honored him in like manner. When they straightened, Mary tapped her outer thigh, beckoning them, like one might a puppy, to her side.

“Will you not join us in the
parlor
, Your Grace? I vow we shall all be much more comfortable there.” As any good hostess would, Mary smiled brightly at her guest and stepped into the passage, gesturing for him to follow.

Outwardly, she was calm and serene. Inwardly, she was a tangle of raw nerves.

When they entered the
parlor
, Mary, as was her habit, snatched the drained cordial glass from her sleeping great-aunt’s bony hands.

She turned and saw that Blackstone was staring at the old woman.

“Should we perhaps retire to another room so that”—the duke gestured to Aunt Prudence—“she is not disturbed?”

“No need.” Mary shook her head and rested her hand on the old woman’s shoulder. She did not move or awaken. “This is Mrs. Winks, our great-aunt.”

Blackstone bowed to their dozing aunt. The edge of Mary’s mouth twitched with amusement. “She is a dear, but well into her dotage. We shan’t bother her, you needn’t worry. It has always been my belief that she enjoys the company of young folk, even if she mightn’t be fully aware.” She extended her hand toward the chair opposite Aunt Prudence. “Please, be seated, Your Grace.”

As they sat down in the
parlor
, Mary thanked the heavens above that her full skirts concealed her ridiculously knocking knees. It wouldn’t do for the wretch to see how clearly unprepared she was for such a surprise attack.

And this
was
an attack. It was the only explanation she could muster. For why else would he have come?

Certainly not to apologize for kissing her. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do, and Blackstone was
no
gentleman.

“Your Grace, I am sure it is abundantly clear that we had not expected you this day,” Mary began. Her voice was steady and even, which surprised her. “Might I inquire the purpose of your visit?”

Anne and Elizabeth sat silently, practically huddled together, as they stared at the duke like two field mice cornered by a hungry barn cat.

Blackstone fixed his eyes on Mary then, and suddenly she felt as though she could not draw a breath.

“I have come, my dear lady, to apologize for my actions last night.” He swallowed deeply, and his glance flicked across at Anne and Elizabeth for the briefest moment, eliciting a tiny gasp from each of them. “I should not ask it, but... might I speak with you privately for a moment or two?”

The duke’s words had only just left his mouth when Anne and Elizabeth stood from the settee and, as if they were stitched together, scurried from the
parlor
.

Cowards.
Mary’s pulse thrummed in her wrists. Now she was left all alone with him. Well, except for Aunt Prudence, who was now snoring loudly as if to remind Mary of her presence.

Still, she was as good as alone, and Lord knew, she wasn’t prepared in the least for that. Why, she could not sit here with a man who had taken improper advantage of her only yesterday.

Mary stood and opened her mouth to make her own excuses.

“Please, Miss
Royle
. Do not go. You have naught to fear from me, I swear it.” He came to his feet and in a single stride was standing before her. “Please.”

With a gentleness that surprised her, he laid his hand on her shoulder and guided her back to sit upon the settee once more. He knelt down before her and took her hand into his.

Saints be blessed, what was he going to do now?

Blackstone covered her hand with his fingers and held tight. “I do hope you can bring yourself to forgive me, Miss
Royle
. What I did was despicable, and I have no excuse for it... other than I did it for Quinn.”

Mary tried to unobtrusively slip her hand from his grasp, but his own were so large that it was quite impossible. “Yes, what you did was horrid, and you must excuse me, Your Grace, for not understanding your reasoning, but your brother did not seem appreciative of what you did
for him.
”

Without meaning to, Mary glanced past their clasped hands to his chest. Even beneath his waistcoat and coat she could see the curve of his firm muscles. Suddenly all the sensations of being pressed against that hard chest came crashing into her mind.

Tiny beads of perspiration moistened the cleft between her breasts. My, it was getting rather warm in the
parlor
.

She turned her gaze away from his form and fixed it instead on the bell on the table near the hearth. If only he would return to his chair, she could summon
MacTavish
and have the windows opened to the breeze.

Mary tugged a little, but his grip on her hand only tightened.

He lowered his head, and his eyes seemed to search the rug’s pattern for a prompt as to what to say next. When he looked up again, he looked almost unsure of himself.