Must Love Dukes (9 page)

Her eyes flared in outrage. “I did not steal from you. I only took back…”

“Ah, so you do remember our little night together. Let me ask you, Lily, what is your game here tonight? Who are you swindling this time?”

“I…” Her words evaporated into the rose-infused air as another lady approached, having just returned from the dance floor.

“Shall we have that dance now, my lady?” he asked Lily.

“I’m not available this evening,” she replied in a shaky voice.

He grabbed the card on her wrist and lifted it up for inspection before she could react. Empty. “As it happens, it seems your next dance is free. How fortuitous.”

After a slight hesitation, she lifted her chin and replied with a tight smile, “Oh, I must have been mistaken. That would be lovely then. A dance…with you.”

***

Of all of the disasters Lillian imagined befalling her this evening, seeing Devon again was not one of them. He had completely taken her unawares and made sport of her in the middle of her first ball. If Evangeline had not chosen that exact moment to return from dancing, Lillian would have never agreed to dance with the man—nay, the duke! He had hardly been the epitome of honest behavior that night himself.

Mr. Grey. You may call me Devon
. Ha! And now she would be forced to dance with the arrogant man.

He did look dashing in black evening wear. If he were anyone other than a lying duke, she might actually enjoy her very first dance with a gentleman. He, however, was no gentleman. She pasted on a superior smile and glided to the floor, trying not to think about the flinching male muscles under her hand.

They stood together waiting for the quadrille to begin. He grasped her hand in his as he asked, “So, Lily, whose jewels are you after this time?”

“I am not a thief,” she whispered through clenched teeth. She tried not to think of the warm hand wrapped around hers and looked over his right shoulder as she said, “I am here for the same reason as all of these other ladies tonight.”

“I would believe you if I had not experienced firsthand your light fingers when it comes to valuables.”

“I do not have light fingers.”

“No, your fingers do appear to be the correct weight. Your skirt, on the other hand…”

Her eyes flew up to meet his dark gray gaze. “What are you implying? I am not that sort of lady!”

“Oh? You could have fooled me. Or was that all a ruse just to steal from me? Should I lock away the pin on my cravat? It’s a ruby, you know.”

At that moment the music began to play from the balcony overhead and the dance began. Lillian arranged her face in a semblance of pleasantness as they crossed the floor together and she curtsied. Her hand fell from his as she moved away to dance a turn with an older gentleman before returning to the duke.

“I don’t want your cravat pin!” she said through clenched teeth. “How dare you talk to me that way? You were hardly honest last year,
Your
Grace
.” She threw his title at him as if it was the worst insult before gliding away again to circle a lady squeezed into a froth of dark pink frills.

When the dance brought her back to the duke, he leaned toward her to say, “My leaving off my title is not the same as you leaving with my belongings. Perhaps Lady Dillsworth should put away the good silver. I shall go advise her to do so, shall I?” He made to pull away, leaving her on the floor dancing the quadrille alone.

She held his hand a bit too tightly as she moved across the floor with him once more. “Don’t you dare! You could ruin me.”

“Ah yes, I could, couldn’t I?” He seemed far too comfortable with the prospect of destroying her reputation.

“You would do that to me? You don’t even know me.” She didn’t wish to marry, yet she also didn’t wish to be banished from society. She’d been shut away for too many years already. She wanted to live, and this arrogant arse was not going to ruin her chances of enjoying what little freedom life had to offer. She moved away again, turning once more with the older gentleman. Her smile felt etched onto her face, as if she might never be able to remove its false cheerfulness when she returned to the duke.

He glowered down at her as he said, “I know you’re here in an attempt to pass yourself off as a virgin to suitors, and we both know how false that is.”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t.” The last thing she wanted to do just now was to finish this dance with him. She wanted to hit him. And yet she glided away to circle the lady with the pink dress. The blasted quadrille! She wanted to rail at him, yet here she was prancing about the floor like a ninny! She was having trouble keeping the harsh thoughts from showing in her eyes by the time she returned to him.

“I could be persuaded to keep my mouth closed, for a price,” he offered with a smile.

He was smiling at her! Was he enjoying this torment of his? “I don’t think I would be willing to pay
that
price, sir.” She could not believe her ears. Duke or not, no man could suggest what he was suggesting. She would rather die a thousand deaths than to ever allow him such liberties again.

“Oh, I’m not as horrible as that. I only wish to have some entertainment this season. Innocent entertainment,” he clarified as he turned her to a halt before him. “And thanks to you, I’ll get it.”

“How do you know I’ll agree to your terms of…of blackmail?” The music died and the couples around them began to move away. Lillian seemed to be rooted to the parquet floor as she stared up at His Grace in disbelief.

“Because, Lily, you cannot afford to lose your reputation. Not if you are, in fact, husband hunting, as you claimed earlier. And if you are here on less than honorable terms, as I suspect, then you cannot afford to lose this cover as a proper miss that you’ve created for your crimes.”

She truly did not care about her chances at a good marriage, but she did not want her family’s name dragged through the dirty streets of London. She often criticized her brothers for not upholding the notion of family honor.

How would it look if she did the same? No. She could not allow this vile man to spread the tale of her one night of rebelliousness to every listening ear within the
ton
. “Perhaps I will agree to your proposal. You must allow me time to think on it.”

He smiled, the light that gleamed behind his gray-blue eyes holding her still in spite of her desire to blacken those eyes until they were narrow gray slits. Her nerves frayed further at the thought of what he was planning. No good could come of that devious look.

“Who knows? You may just enjoy the game by the end of it all.”

“Somehow I doubt that. I would have to be mad to enjoy any activity that involved you.” She turned and began to walk away, only to have him catch up with her within a few paces and place her hand on his arm.

“Oh, you wound me, Lily. Although I must admit it’s rather nice being mad. You would do well to try it.” He chuckled and patted the hand on his arm.

“You’re admitting that you’re mad? Clearly, I’ve known so for the past half hour, but to hear it from your own lips is astonishing.” She looked up into his face, her gaze landing on the lips she had just referred to. That was a mistake because it only brought to mind how those lips felt pressed against hers. Thankfully his next statement jarred her back to their present situation.

“Have you not heard? I’m the Mad Duke of Thornwood. Although I believe we moved past formalities when you screamed my given name in a moment of passion while naked in my bed.”

Her hand clenched on his arm as she urged in a hushed whisper, “Please stop saying such things!”

“Agree to my terms and I’ll be happy to oblige,” he countered with a grin.

“Very well.”

“There. That wasn’t so terribly difficult, was it?”

“I hate you,” she huffed as they wound their way through the crowd back to her friend and their spot near the column.

“Ah, the passionate Lily of a year past may reemerge from her confinement still,” he murmured close to her ear.

“Perhaps, but never for you.”

“Never? Hmm, that sounds like a challenge. We won’t think about that for now, though. I must leave you to your friends, or people will indeed begin to talk about us. Now that you’ve agreed to my terms, I would hate to tarnish your reputation by mere association with me.”

“You did not directly state the terms of your hideous blackmail,
Your
Grace
.” She chanced a look back up at him, trying to read his expression, to no avail.

“That I did not, did I?”

“No, you did not,” she pressed.

“And here you are back safely with Miss Green. As I promised, Miss Phillips remains in one piece. Now, if you will excuse me, ladies, I must go.” With a charming smile and a nod of his dark head, he was gone.

Lillian turned to Sue and noticed she was biting her lip, her brows drawn together in concern. Was everyone distressed by the Mad Duke’s presence?
She
certainly found him most distressing.

Sue’s voice shook slightly as she said, “Lillian, I have a feeling this season is going to bring some interesting developments for us.”

“Yes. I fear the same.”

Sue turned to her with wide brown eyes. “You danced with the Mad Duke. He never attends balls, let alone dances with anyone.”

This made Lillian remember that Sue had spent many years mingling with the
ton
and therefore knew much more of the people there than she did. Perhaps she could learn something more about her adversary that would help her fight back against him. With that in mind, she asked, “Why is he called the Mad Duke?”

“All I know is that people say his father was mad and passed the condition to his son. Positively everyone talks about him. I’m sure his presence here will be discussed in every salon across town tomorrow. And he only danced with you. That makes you rather scandalous, too. How exciting.”

“I have done nothing scandalous!”

“I meant nothing by it, Lillian. This will only serve to make you more popular. You’re sure to be betrothed this season now, thanks to the Mad Duke’s attentions.”

“That insufferable man’s presence is going to destroy all of my plans. I wish I had never met him. If I could only go back and change it all…”

“You talk as if you were acquainted before tonight. It was only one dance, Lillian. How is he destroying your plans?”

“Oh, Sue, it’s already far too jumbled a mess to explain.”

“That I completely understand,” Sue replied with a kind smile. “Like I said, this season is going to be interesting. That much I believe we can count on.”

Devon shrugged into his coat, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. “Ah, yes, you were right. The light gray does look better with this coat. I would hate to be unfashionable while inside my home with no one to take notice.” He turned a wry grin on his fastidious valet.

Heston had served him for eight years. They’d traveled together to foreign lands, making scientific discoveries along the way. The man had been at Devon’s side as he sailed to unknown worlds mapping shipping routes. And now they were finding a path through London’s society together. He was older than Devon by quite a few years, although he had never asked Heston’s age. Wherever Devon’s adventures had taken him, Heston had always gone along without a complaint, although Devon knew he was pleased to be back on English soil.

He was glad of the man’s assistance, for Devon could dress well enough for a Himalayan mountain-climbing expedition or an African excursion, but the wilds of London could never be tamed if not for his trusted valet’s influence. Devon’s mind was always elsewhere—in a book or a scientific journal, perhaps thinking over cargo holds or new destinations and profitability—but never on what cravat he wore. And a crime of fashion, like madness, was a sin the
ton
would not forgive.

“I am glad you approve of the waistcoat, Your Grace. Do you require any clothing be made ready for this evening?”

“No, I plan on spending the night at home. One ball a week is quite enough for me, thank you.”

“Yes, when she cornered me in the hallway this morning, Her Grace was quite curious about your appearance at the ball last night.”

“You didn’t tell her anything, did you?”

“Of course not, Your Grace. I said I could only comment on the cut of your coat, which was quite fine.”

“Very good, Heston. I’m sure I’ll have to speak with her eventually. It seems she has taken to lurking around the library when I am attempting to work. However, I hope to delay that conversation as long as possible. I’m sure she is none too thrilled that I attended last night yet didn’t escort her.” He sighed. “It couldn’t be helped. I hadn’t planned on attending, you know. It was all quite last minute.”

“Yes. I recall. You wouldn’t even allow me time to properly prepare your evening wear.”

Devon waved the comment away as if it were a pesky bug. “I looked fine. You’re such a worrier, Heston. Not everything in life can be planned.”

“No, yet we must endeavor to be starched for the occasion when possible.”

“Quite right, Heston.” It was true. When possible, it did pay to be prepared. The image of Lily drifted into his mind. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and a menacing look clouded his eyes as he gazed at his image in the mirror. The very idea of her got under his skin. His wounded pride from last year must be mended. And now he had his chance.

Only, what to do with her now? What was the appropriate sentencing for a lady who seduced, stole, lied, and disappeared? He would have to think about it. There was no rush in the matter. No, he would take his time. As Heston said, he should be prepared. He would wager that right now she was fretting over what he might do to her or if he would change his mind and tell everyone of her past escapades.

A smile creased his face. The thought of her worrying over him was rather satisfying. Finally, the shoe was on the proper foot. Perhaps he would let her stew for a day before he took advantage of her situation and forced her to do something for him. Now, that would take some preparation. What would hurt her the most while here in London…for the season…the blasted season of the
ton
…while she husband hunted?

“Heston, I need you to assist me in my research today.”

“Research for shipping routes or the construction of the new ships? I would be honored to aid in your work. What do you need?”

“No, this research is of a personal nature.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“There is a lady…”

“A lady?” Heston raised a brow.

“Yes, a lady. You know those reasonless beings you see on the streets wearing dresses.”

“Of course. My apologies. Please continue.”

“There’s a lady who is new in town, a Miss Lillian Phillips. I believe she may be of some relation to Lord Bixley. She must be an unknown cousin or some such, because I only recently heard of her existence. I need you to gather some information. Where she is staying while in town. What balls she will be attending. If she has been seen with anyone around town or if her name is attached to any gentleman’s name…”

He broke off as he pulled open a drawer in the table beside his bed. His fingers trailed over the silk stocking Lily had left behind last year. Clearing his throat, he slammed the drawer, resolve steeling his voice as he turned back to Heston. “I want to know anything you can discover about her. Every detail.”

“Yes, Your Grace. May I be so bold as to ask if this lady is of a particular interest to you as your future duchess?”

“God no! I merely have some business dealings that involve her to a degree. At present, I would expect her to steal my silver at a dinner party.”

“Quite.”

“So you see why I need much more information here. She will not get away with anything this time. That is a fact.”

“This time?”

“Oh, just retrieve the information I seek and do be stealthy about it.”

“Always.”

***

“Oh, good morning, Nathaniel. I was just having some tea. Won’t you join me?” Lillian lifted the teapot and began to pour before he could reply. With those circles under his eyes, he looked as if he could use the entire pot of tea.

“If that is the strongest beverage you’re offering this morning, then yes. Tea it is. Apologies, darling. It was a long night.”

“Anything of import, or simply long?”

“I had a bit too much to drink at my club and lost horribly at cards. I shall have to live that loss down with my mates for quite some time. And then, as if that were not atrocious enough, I ran into Solomon.” Nathaniel slumped into the dining-room chair nearest Lillian and lifted the tea to his mouth, draining the entire cup. “Ah, that does knock a few of the cobwebs off.”

Lillian refilled his cup, dreading the conversation about their brother that seemed destined to occur this morning. Her fingers curled into fists around the napkin in her lap, and her spine went rigid. She had managed an entire evening without thinking once of Solomon. Granted, it had been an evening spent at home. Her mind had been inexplicably filled with a certain obnoxious duke, but she’d had no thoughts of Solomon. And Lillian had only caught a distant glimpse of Solomon at the Dillsworth ball. She should have known her reprieve would not last.

“What did our brother have to say for himself?”

“He gave me this.” Nathaniel pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket and tossed it onto the table in front of Lillian. She looked at it for a moment, hoping it would burst into flames and she wouldn’t have to learn what it contained. She reached out and placed one finger on the paper, sliding it closer across the dark cherry tabletop. “Do you know what it’s about?”

“It seems to be in reference to your potential suitors.”

“I don’t have any potential suitors.”

Nathaniel heaved a sigh as his eyes met hers. “You do now. Read it.”

“What do you mean, I do now?”

“I know you said that you didn’t dance with a soul at the ball night before last, but you only arrived in town a few days ago. What does he expect?”

Lillian ignored the lack of truth in his statement, for she would not consider His Grace a suitor—ever. No, she had no suitors, and that was the way she wished it to remain. What had Solomon done? Her mind came back to the present when she realized Nathaniel was still speaking.

“I told him as much last night. Selecting suitors for you without your consent—it’s horribly out of fashion.”

She ripped open the missive and saw a list of names swimming before her eyes.

Viscount
Amberstall

Earl
of
Harrow

Marquess
of
Elandor

Viscount
Hingsworth

Earl
of
Erdway

Who were these men? They certainly didn’t know her. Why would they be interested in marriage? Her dowry was not large. And what could Solomon possibly have to gain from an arrangement with one of these men? She truly was going to be auctioned off like an old plow mule. The idea was appalling.

Her hand shook with anger, making the parchment tremble before her eyes. She carefully refolded the letter and laid it back down on the table. “Yes, well, I believe I am in need of some air, if you will excuse me.” Sliding her chair back, she rose, turning for the door.

“Lillian, we’ll find a way to stop him. There must be a more suitable husband for you than these gentlemen. Surely you’ll catch someone’s eye who is not a friend of Solomon’s.” Nathaniel’s words stopped her progress for the door.

“Yes. All will be fine. I’m going for a walk in the park now.” Her voice was a bit too chipper as she spoke. She could hear the suppressed anger but could do nothing to stop it. Her throat was closing, her world was closing, and she needed air now.

“At least take a maid for your safety and propriety,” Nathaniel called out.

She ignored his plea. If only she believed her own words when she said that all would be fine. Solomon was set on choosing a husband for her in the most barbaric fashion possible. It sounded as if she had no choice but to marry. She could choose from his list or run away with no money and no place to go.

Where was the third door? She wanted a peaceful life of freedom. Freedom could never be found within the confines of marriage. She had been bullied by enough men in her family to know the truth of that. A gentleman would never allow his wife as much as a free thought. She grabbed her hat from a side table in the foyer, stuffing it on top of her head. Without a glance in the mirror, she was racing down the front steps.

The morning air was cool and crisp against her face. It did not, however, serve to cool her heated thoughts. Was there no option for her in which she could grow old without a man telling her what she could and could not do?

It didn’t seem like Solomon was going to allow her room to dissuade any gentlemen from courting her. She didn’t know any of the gentlemen on that list. A few of the names she recognized, but they didn’t know her. They didn’t care for her. She was expected to spend her life looking across a dining table at a man she felt nothing for. At that moment, for some unknown reason, a vision of storm-cloud blue eyes gazing at her from across a table filled her mind. She blinked away the thought.

Where had that infuriating man’s face come from when she was thinking of her future? She would sooner choose from Solomon’s list than spend her days with His Grace. She rounded the corner into Hyde Park, so angry she paid little attention to where she was going. The trees around her grew dense as she walked, forcing her to duck under occasional limbs and step over fallen logs. If she could keep walking forever she would, never looking back. Lillian came to a small clearing, relishing the feel of the cool breeze that the trees had been blocking. It brushed against her cheeks and pulled at the ties of her hat under her chin.

With no one here to see, she removed her hat, allowing the sun to warm her head. Escaped strands of her hair danced across her face in unison with the wind. She felt peace for the first time since arriving in the city. Her problems were behind her, caught in the brambles of the woods at her back. Here, she was alone with the weak morning sun and the tall grass at her feet.

She sat at the base of a tree, taking a moment to arrange her skirts. Brushing a bit of dust off here and flicking a leaf to the ground there, she had only just looked up from her mindless task when a rider entered the clearing on a magnificent gray horse.

Hidden at the edge of the woods, she stilled, watching him as one would a duck on a pond or a bee on a flower. He cantered around, then dismounted near the center of the clearing. The man seemed to be enjoying the same sunshine she had been soaking in, for he turned around in a circle with his face lifted toward the sun.

She was not close enough to see his features, but he looked to be talking to his horse now. He laughed loud enough for her to hear as the horse nipped at his pockets. It was a deep laugh, the laugh of someone who enjoyed every drop of sunshine in a day. She felt a smile tug at the corners of her stubborn lips.

He pulled something out and offered it in the palm of his hand. The horse took the treat greedily, and then the man patted his mount on the shoulder in an affectionate manner. What a kind man. She had seen many men whip their animals to inspire speed or good behavior, yet with these two, there seemed to be a kinship. It was refreshing to see that there might be one decent gentleman left in the world.

He pulled the reins down and began to walk toward her corner of the clearing, leading his horse behind him. Oh dear. Should she move? But perhaps he still would not see her, and she did not want to leave just yet.

Her eyes were busy idly exploring the cling of his breeches to his muscular thighs and the hang of his jacket across his broad shoulders. She was reminded of Devon’s muscular build when she had seen him unclothed a year ago. It was no surprise, for she compared every man to him. His was the only male body she had seen—or felt. She grinned.

It really was too bad he’d turned out to be such a tyrant when they met again. His behavior at the ball did not match the man of her memory. That was the way of memories, though, wasn’t it? Only remembering the good or the bad, depending on one’s perception at the time, went with the territory. In this case, her memories must be deceiving her, for he was clearly a horrible man at heart.

What would he force her to do for him to keep his silence? He had not given her any hint. He thought her a thief. What if he made her steal for him? That was a terrible notion. The gentleman in the clearing was walking steadily closer. She now wondered if she should have moved away. He would surely tread on her if he kept on his current path. His features were now close enough to see.