How to Seduce a Duke (19 page)

“The night is mild and the house is very close this evening,” she told him. “Do you think it likely that he and Lady Tidwell stepped outside for air... as you, yourself, had earlier suggested we do?”

“Yes, perhaps so,” he murmured distractedly as his gaze flitted this way and that about the room.

“Shall we each collect a glass of wine and venture into the courtyard to join them?” She raised her brows, as if her suggestion had been innocently conceived.

Rogan turned and pinned her with his gaze. “Wine? Oh, quite right.” He started for a footman, who was circling the dining room balancing a silver tray filled with goblets of claret, but he stopped suddenly and turned around to look back at her.

“Your Grace? Would you like me to assist you?” She served him a gentle smile.

“Y-you will wait here for me, will you not?” The expression on his face seemed altogether too serious for the words he had spoken. “I shall return in but a moment.”

Mary tilted her head to the side and considered his peculiar reaction.

Did he really think that the moment he had turned his back to her she would dart off into the courtyard to woo Quinn? “I’ll not step from this spot, Your Grace. I promise you. I shall not leave.”

“Very good, Miss
Royle
.” His expression brightened.

Mary watched as he hurried through the throng to reach the footman, who was now on the farthest edge of the dining room.

What an odd gentleman.

Just then, her sisters appeared beside her.

“Such a dull gathering, is it not?” Elizabeth raised her own goblet of wine to her lips and took a sip. “When Lady
Upperton
mentioned quitting the musicale, I encouraged her to do so as soon as possible.”

“So, are you ready?” Anne quizzed. “Lady
Upperton’s
carriage already waits at the door.”

“Leave,
now
?” Mary
glaced
at Rogan just as he lifted two goblets from the footman’s silver tray. “Oh, no. I am not yet prepared to leave. I have yet to speak with Lord
Wetherly
.”

Anne
leveled
an annoyed look at her. “Well, do go and bid him farewell now, please—if you must.”

“Do, Mary.” Elizabeth raised her wineglass and gestured about the room. “There are no bachelors here. Look about. Only dreary married ladies and gentlemen.”

“See here, I can walk back to Berkeley Square. The night air is soft and warm this evening.” Mary flicked her fingers at each of her sisters. “So go ahead without me. Quit the musicale. I shall return home soon enough.”

“But we can’t leave without you,” Elizabeth said.

“Nonsense.” Mary reached out and snatched Elizabeth’s goblet from her, nearly spilling the half glass of wine that remained. “Go on.”

“You can’t walk all the way home at night—especially not in that gown. You, and it, will be ruined if you attempt it.” Anne was completely serious, for she folded her arms over her chest the way she always did when Mary proposed some indecorous course of action.

Mary looked up and her stomach muscles tensed. Rogan had paused momentarily to speak with their host, but he was only a few strides away now. He would return in an instant. “Do not fret, Anne. I shall ask Lord
Wetherly
, Lady Tidwell, and the duke to see me home. Off with you now. I shall be along soon enough.”

“Very well, then,” Anne amended. “I suppose your plan is reasonable enough.”

“
Finally.
Let us away.” Elizabeth took Anne’s hand and, without a look back, drew her toward the passage. Good eve, Mary.”

“Good eve,” she called back softly.

My plan is reasonable enough.

She grinned to herself.
If they only knew.

Mary looked down at Elizabeth’s wineglass in her hand.
Courage,
she told herself, as she swallowed the claret in a single draught and slipped the empty goblet onto the tray of an unsuspecting footman passing by.

She knew, or thought she knew, exactly how to seduce the duke.

All she needed to do was pretend to be receptive to his roguish passes. Act as if she had suddenly set her cap at him.

Yes, all she needed was a little courage, and she’d have Rogan running for his rakish life.

She’d changed.

Rogan realized it the very moment he returned to Miss
Royle’s
side, having balanced two goblets of wine through a revolving gauntlet of the
Harringtons
’ horde of guests.

“Here you are, Miss
Royle
.” When he pressed the glass of wine into her hand, she lifted it quickly to her mouth. Her hand quivered fiercely.

She raised her gaze to his and thanked him for the wine. Though she smiled pleasantly and her countenance was the portrait of serenity, she seemed quite unable to stop her fingers from trembling.

For some reason, she was conspicuously anxious and tense, far more so than before.

He didn’t enjoy seeing her this way. Bloody hell, it was his fault. Her shaking made him almost regret toying with her earlier. Almost.

It was not as if he’d had a choice in the matter. He had a duty to protect his brother. His seductive words had been necessary to distract her and keep her thoughts solidly with him, rather than with his deuced marriage-minded brother.

Clearly, she was aware of his study of her. Had there been a japanned folding screen anywhere nearby, he was certain she would have ducked behind it for refuge.

Positioning her lace fan between them like a tempered shield, she flicked it hard, and it snapped open with a click.

Damn it all. Am I that menacing?

Evidently to her I am.

Her amber eyes were wide and round, and she nervously raised the wine-filled goblet to her mouth again and again, until the claret was drained completely.

Rogan raised his eyebrows. “You seemed to have enjoyed your wine. Shall I fetch you another, Miss
Royle
?”

“No, this one will do.” But then she held her trembling hand before her and looked into the hollow of her glass.
“Oh.”
She angled her eyes back up at him, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

She inhaled deeply, and when she released her pent breath, a calmness of sorts descended over her. “On second thought, yes, I should like another. But do allow me to walk with you this time, if you will.”

Her lids looked heavy, and her eyes glinted in the candlelight. “The footman serving the wine is just there,” she said as she tipped her head, gesturing toward the doors that led to the rear of the center hall. “We can step into the courtyard afterward and breathe some cool air. What say you”—she lowered her voice and leaned close—
“Rogan?”

And there it was again. Another change in her
demeanor
.

One moment she was quaking like a frightened child, the next plying her feminine wiles like the most practiced of French courtesans.

This made no sense to Rogan.

What is the chit’s game?

Ah, well, the hour was not so very late. He had time to indulge her long enough to determine what she was truly about.

She smiled and, without a prompt, reached out and looped her arm tightly around his. “Shall we?”

She was shaking again. Now that was disheartening.

Deuce it.
She was so damned transparent in her effort to appear brave and resistant to his taunts.

But he knew better. He had played this game many times before and with far more skilled opponents.

“Mayhap we shall stumble across your brother.” Her lips pulled back, revealing the falsest of smiles.

“Do you think so, Miss
Royle
?”

Ah, now he understood.

True, it was stifling inside the house, but he knew it was not the evening breeze she truly sought.

It was his cursed brother.

She feared, and perhaps rightly so, that Quinn was developing affections for another. And Mary was not about to step back and let Lady Tidwell claim her golden prize.

“It’s only l-logical, Your Grace.” She shook her head lazily. “Do you not agree?” The wine seemed to be affecting her very quickly, thickening her tongue and weighting her eyelids.

“I am not so convinced, but if you would like to be sure, Miss
Royle
, let us go and see. If nothing else, we shall enjoy the air. Right this way, if you please.”

As Rogan led her toward a tray of filled goblets, the heaving crowd pressed them tightly together, and she leaned against him for support. He felt the softness of her breast against his side.

At once he felt a tightening in his groin.

Bloody hell. Not now.

He could not feel such things for
her.
Anyone but her.

The cool air would help. Had to.

Because Rogan knew that Quinn and Lady Tidwell would not be found in the courtyard.

Nor the garden.

For Sir Joseph had told him only moments before that Lady Tidwell was not feeling herself and had been escorted home by his brother half an hour earlier.

And in all likelihood, he and Miss
Royle
would be in the courtyard... alone.

The crescent moon seemed unnaturally bright on this particular evening, bringing to Mary’s mind the night when Rogan had slipped between her and Quinn and kissed her, sending her body all to jelly.

Tonight, however, such a rakish act was not a concern. She and the Black Duke would not be alone. Another female, even if Lady Tidwell was that woman, would be present, and Rogan would not dare to repeat such an offense in her presence.

Nor would the blackheart chance piercing his brother’s heart again, not when it had wounded him so keenly before.

No, she would be completely protected from any more roguish exploits this evening, for even a rake must hold some boundaries sacred.

Mary surveyed the moonlit courtyard. “I do not see Lord
Wetherly
and Lady Tidwell. Do you, Your Grace—” She turned her head to look up at him, and at once her head began to spin. “I mean,
Rogan
?”

My, she was beginning to feel so... very sleepy.

Her legs were a little wobbly too, now that she thought about it, and she felt unsteady on her feet. She braced herself against Rogan for support and focused her blurry gaze upon him.

Goodness, but he looked rather dashing.

Her gaze drifted to his lips, and she started thinking about their kiss. It had certainly been good, though admittedly, she hadn’t much experience kissing. She wondered if she’d enjoy it if he kissed her right then.

Rogan looked down at her with a most curious expression on his face. “My brother and Lady Tidwell? Oh, they are not here. I did not truly expect them to be.”

“You never mentioned that to
me.
”

Or did he?
Bah, she couldn’t remember.

Mary felt her body swoon fully against Rogan, and his hands suddenly upon her. “I might not have come outside had I known your brother and Lady Tidwell would not be taking the air as well.”

“Well, they aren’t here, so we may step back inside if you wish.” He had that cocky glint in his eyes again. “I had heard that my brother and Lady Tidwell left the musicale early. But I thought a breath of cool air would be most invigorating.”

Mary’s head was spinning when she tilted her face back to look up at Rogan. “So we are all
alone.
”

“It would seem so, Miss
Royle
.”

“Mary. I granted you leave to call me Mary.” She squinted her eyes up at him. Lord, her head felt so heavy. “Why don’t you call me Mary? Don’t you like me?”

I like you, Rogan.

No, no. I hate you. That’s right.

Rogan tried to take a step backward. But Mary held firm, lest she lose her own balance. When she pressed up against him for support again, she felt a hardness between them.

Good heavens.

It seemed he did like her. Quite a bit actually.

A grin seized Mary’s lips just then. She was feeling quite courageous just now. Maybe a mite
offkilter
, but infinitely brave.

And oh-so-ready to shift the balance of power between them. First, she would caress his cheek with her bare hand.

She flashed him what she hoped was a seductive glance as she peeled one glove down to her wrist. But then, she couldn’t pull her fingers out, so she left it bunched where it was.

Did she just hear him chuckle? She looked up at him. “Rogan.” Though she did not intend it, her voice was husky and low. “Have you thought about it?”

His eyes quizzed her. “Have I thought about what, Mary?”

She stood on her toes and slanted her mouth toward his. “Kissing me...
again.
”