by Darcy Burke
Courtship now. Seduction later.
Yes, that was the right plan.
“Are you having more?” she asked.
He brought the bottle back to the table. “Yes.” He looked at her in question as he began to pour into her glass.
“Thank you. Not too much.”
He filled the glass a little more than halfway, then gave himself the same amount. “I’ll convey your cards to Haddock so he may inform Dagnall.”
“There’s no hurry. I’m not rushing back to Hampton Lodge any time soon.” She peered at him over her glass before taking a drink.
She was flirting with him again. He needed to respond in kind. How did he not know how to flirt? Because almost the entirety of his education, and certainly what he practiced, came from his father, who wouldn’t know how to flirt if a peacock strutted around his bedroom every morning in an attempt to teach him the basic ways of nature.
Constantine may not be a peacock, but he could try. He leaned toward Sabrina and caught the scent of vanilla and apple. “Good. Because this wine tasting is just the beginning of this Season. Our Season.”
Her lips parted, and it seemed her chest began to move more rapidly, as if her pulse had quickened. His had too, and he was now fully erect, his body eager for the next step.
Soon.
He held his glass toward her. “To the Season.”
She tapped hers against his. “To the Season.”
Starting with how in the hell he was going to ensure his meeting that night finished soon enough for him to join her at the ball.
Chapter 14
As Sabrina stepped out of the coach in front of Evesham House in Grosvenor Square, she almost hoped she would turn her ankle so she could abort the visit and return home. Her chest felt tight, and her breathing was shallow as she worked to overcome her anxiety. The façade of the duke’s residence rose tall and intimidating with four pillars at the entrance and gleaming windows stacked in perfect symmetry across the four visible stories.
Smoothing her hand over her hip, she took confidence in another of her new costumes. The smart walking dress was crafted from a bold, bright green and decorated with gold buttons and stitching. She chose to wear the color today to show the duke that she could be daring, that she was, without a doubt, the Countess of Aldington and the future Duchess of Evesham.
Constantine had said it was best if she went alone, and while she agreed, she was still nervous. Particularly since she’d felt a bit lethargic that morning. After yesterday’s wine sampling, she’d emerged from her alcohol-infused giddiness feeling incredibly tired. So tired, in fact, that she’d left the ball rather early. Because of that, she’d already departed by the time Constantine was finally able to arrive.
She’d apologized to him earlier. He’d smiled warmly and assured her all was well, that it was he who should be sorry for not accompanying her in the first place. That was when she’d suggested he come along with her on this call. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to. He’d argued that she’d gain more ground with the duke if she went on her own.
Lifting her lips into a smile she hoped would buoy her spirit, she went to the door, which a footman opened just as she arrived in front of it.
The butler stood in the center of the cavernous foyer. With its polished marble, sparkling gilt, and excess of eye-popping artwork, the space more resembled a museum instead of a home. She had this same thought every time she entered the duke’s house and wondered what it had been like for Constantine to grow up in such a lavish place.
“Good afternoon, Lady Aldington,” the butler intoned evenly. “His Grace is awaiting you upstairs in the drawing room.”
Sabrina exhaled in relief. Constantine had thought she would be subjected to a more formal interview in his study. That’s how he met with his sons, as if they were business associates instead of family. “Thank you.”
She followed the butler into the staircase hall, which was every bit as grand as the foyer. The walls were covered in a dark wood paneling that matched the stairs. The atmosphere was masculine but also warm, warmer than the foyer at least. Here, she could imagine Constantine and Lucien chasing each other up or down the stairs. But then, she doubted they’d been allowed to do such things given the duke’s disposition.
The duke was waiting for her in the drawing room, which was at the front of the house. He stood near the hearth, his dark gray brows drawn over his deep brown eyes that could have been borrowed from Lucien’s face. Overall, he and Lucien looked quite a bit alike, while Constantine seemed to favor their mother, at least based on the portraits Sabrina had seen.
Sabrina sank into a curtsey. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
“Come and sit, Countess.” He indicated a chair, giving her no choice as to where she might sit.
When she was seated, he took a chair directly across from her, which seemed to put them in physical opposition. Or perhaps her mind was only looking for negativity.
She needed to be optimistic about this meeting. “Thank you for allowing me to sponsor Lady Cassandra. I am very much looking forward to guiding her this Season.”
He squinted one eye at her as he rested his forearms on the sides of the chair. “That’s amusing, isn’t it? You guiding anyone through a Season when you have no experience. You could scarcely manage to suffer through yours.”
She should have expected this. The man had never minced words. “I am older now. More mature.”
A smirk twisted his lips, but he schooled his features quickly. “I should hope so. I am, in fact, counting on it. I will be watching you closely. Your primary objective is to see my daughter wed to an acceptable gentleman. You likely think I’m a hard and uncaring father, but I indulge my daughter past the point where most fathers would. I let her delay her Season, and I am giving her the opportunity to choose her husband.”
“Which is more than you allowed your heir,” she murmured. If he was going to speak plainly, so would she.
His brows shot up. “The kitten has claws? I never would have guessed.” His demeanor altered slightly as he shifted in his chair and seemed to regard her with something akin to appreciation. Not admiration, however. That would be too much to hope for.
Still, Sabrina’s chest expanded, and she sat a little taller. “I understand what you wish to happen, and I shall do my best to help Lady Cassandra find a match that is acceptable to her.”
“Just know that if she does not, she will be wed to a man of my choosing.”
Sabrina didn’t doubt he was serious, even if he did have a habit of indulging Cassandra. “Have you already identified this man?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You are no longer a kitten but a cat. I shall bear that in mind. Enough of that discussion. There is one other matter I must address with you, and that is your failing role as countess. If you are to be Duchess of Evesham one day—and of course you shall, unless you happen to die—you must claim a larger role in Society.”
Sabrina nearly choked as she swallowed. “I shall endeavor to cling to my mortal coil. What sort of role?” Her stomach knotted as she considered what he might have in mind. The thought of having any sort of “role” beyond that of countess made her want to retch.
“As countess and future duchess!” He glowered at her as if she were daft. “People look to you to be a leader—in fashion and entertaining.” He blew out a breath as if he’d traversed dangerous terrain. “I am pleased to see you are dressed well today. It is a marked improvement.”
Though it was a backhanded compliment, she would take it, given the source. “Thank you. I have an entirely new wardrobe for the Season.”
“You may gain my confidence yet. However, to do so, you must do something else besides succeed as Cassandra’s sponsor.” He paused, and Sabrina wondered if it was to allow her gut to churn in anticipation for this mysterious task. Whether that was his intent or not, her insides recoiled. “You and Aldington will host a ball on the twenty-third. The purpose will be to present Cassandra formally
.”
Sabrina had mentioned to Constantine that they should have a ball, she was still reluctant. It wasn’t the planning or the execution, but rather fulfilling the requirements of a hostess at such an event. She’d have to greet everyone and ensure she exuded charm and poise for hours and hours amidst a clamoring crowd of some of the most judgmental people in London. Or not—she controlled the guest list, did she not? Perhaps she’d limit the invitation to members of the Phoenix Club. She’d never felt more comfortable amongst strangers than she had that night.
With more than a month to plan, she was certain that she could organize an outstanding event. “I’d been thinking of having a ball, but I’d thought to do so in May instead of April.”
“April? No, the twenty-third of March.”
Leaning forward, Sabrina practically fell out of her chair. “That’s in ten days.”
“Eleven, but no matter. There’s no time to waste. Cassandra needs a groom, and the Season will be well underway by the twenty-third of April. Her Grace could have executed a ball here by Friday.” His features softened briefly, but it was fleeting, and his austere expression returned.
Was he setting her up to fail? She longed to ask him that. “This is my first experience hosting anything,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t want it to be lacking.”
“Then don’t allow it to be. You’ve proven yourself to possess more grit than I originally thought. I am certain you can meet this challenge.” His eyes glittered expectantly. “Am I wrong?”
“No, Your Grace. I will rise to this occasion.” She only hoped she didn’t topple to the ground.
He abruptly stood. “Excellent. I shall look forward to my invitation. I’m certain your retainers will be up to the task, however if you require assistance, please feel free to consult Bender.”
What would Constantine say if he’d heard his father practically insult his servants? Feeling particularly defensive about the wonderful people who ran Aldington House, she also stood and lifted her gaze to his. “Our butler and housekeeper are more than capable of managing everything that is required.”
“My offer remains should you need it.” His attention flicked to the doorway. “Here is my lovely daughter and her companion. I shall leave you trio to plot.” He strode toward the door but paused at the threshold as Lady Cassandra and Miss Lancaster moved into the room. “Remember the goal, ladies. There will be a June wedding. You need only find the groom.”
And with that, he departed, leaving a rather cold air swirling.
Lady Cassandra curled her lip toward the doorway and deposited herself onto a settee with a low grumble. Glaring toward the doorway, she pressed her lips together. “Pffft.”
Even when she made a face and a silly sound, Lady Cassandra was beautiful. With her dark hair and eyes, she definitely took after her father and Lucien, but there was a golden quality to her eyes that the men didn’t possess. In fact, if Sabrina had to describe the color, she would call them sherry. Or did she just want another glass of that excellent wine she’d tasted yesterday?
As the companion sat down beside her, Sabrina stood and went to take a chair closer to them in the center of the room. “Good afternoon, Lady Cassandra, Miss Lancaster.”
Lady Cassandra straightened herself and smoothed her hands over her cheeks and across the sides of her head before folding them primly to her lap. “Why are you calling me Lady Cassandra? You should be calling me Cass as Lucien does and as Con does when he’s feeling less priggish.”
“Then you must call me Sabrina.”
“I already do in my head. Does that count?” She grinned, and Sabrina laughed.
Sabrina looked hopefully between the two women before landing her gaze on Cass. “I don’t suppose you’ve identified a potential suitor?”
“Not yet. I think they’re all too afraid of my father to approach me anyway.”
“Well, I can understand that,” Sabrina said wryly. “However, that doesn’t help you. Is he aware of that?”
“I’ve tried to tell him, but he says any gentleman worthy of my hand won’t behave like an immature pup. He appears to enjoy making this difficult.” Cass folded her arms across her chest and sat back against the settee.
“Perhaps your brothers should intervene.”
“Lucien has tried to speak with him also—to no avail. I suppose Con could try, if you want to mention it to him.”
“Actually, I meant that they could find a way to spread the word that potential suitors needn’t be intimidated by His Grace, that the only person they need to impress is you.”
Cass let out a laugh. “An auspicious idea, but I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“It’s worth trying,” Miss Lancaster said.
Sabrina nodded. “I will speak to them. In the meantime, what are you attending this week?”
Cass rattled off a list of events, including a musicale on Tuesday, a rout on Thursday, and two balls on Friday and Saturday. Sabrina was glad she had nothing on Wednesday so that she could attend dinner at the Brightlys with Constantine. The time they’d spent together yesterday had been magnificent, truly the best of their marriage. She hoped they’d moved to a new place in their relationship and that things would only continue to improve. She wondered how much she had the “tutor”—and Lucien and Evie—to thank for that.
“How shall we transport ourselves to these events?” Sabrina asked. “I can pick you up in Aldington’s coach.”
“Papa expects us to take one of his ducal coaches so that everyone will see the coat of arms on the door.” Cass rolled her eyes. “He’s rather insistent upon it. Which means we will fetch you on the way to the occasion.”
“Lovely,” Sabrina murmured. “I do promise to support you, not him, in whatever way I can. I made it clear to him that you will choose your husband. Or not.”
Cass’s dark eyes rounded. “You told him that?” At Sabrina’s firm nod, she giggled. “How I wished I could have seen that. I always knew you were made of stronger stuff than you let on.” She cast Sabrina an admiring glance before turning her head toward Miss Lancaster. “She will be an excellent ally.”
“I agree,” Miss Lancaster said. “It is always good to have allies.”
Sabrina couldn’t agree more, particularly since she’d never had one until Evie. Now she had two more. Perhaps it really wasn’t too late for her wishes to come true.
Constantine shot to his feet as Sabrina sailed into the parlor before dinner. He hadn’t seen her since she’d returned from Evesham House and was pleased to discover that she appeared serene. And lovely. Honey-gold curls whispered against her temples as she moved into the room, and the hem of her cornflower blue gown swayed gently against the carpet.
“Good evening.” He went and took her hand, bowing elegantly as if they were courting. Because they were. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. You are quite handsome this evening.”
He reluctantly released her hand and gestured toward the settee, hoping she might want to sit with him there instead of in separate chairs. “We have a little time before dinner. I am anxious to hear about your interview with my father.”
Sabrina lowered herself elegantly to the pale yellow settee. “Anxious?”
Constantine sat beside her—close, but not too close. “Yes. You marched into the lion’s den, and while you needed to go alone, I very much wanted to be with you.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze flicked down to his sleeve, where his hand rested on his lap. “I appreciate your support, and I think it gave me courage.”
“Did it?” Constantine itched to touch her, to take her hand or stroke her bare shoulder. He curled his fingers against his thigh.
“Yes, and I shall need it because we are hosting a ball.”
“You’d mentioned that, but what has that to do with the visit with my father?”
“He insisted we have it on the twenty-third. Of this month.”
His jaw dropped. “He can’t expect that from anyone, let alone
—” He snapped his mouth closed and grimaced. “I didn’t mean—”
“Even if you did, I wouldn’t blame you. Why wouldn’t you think I was unable to execute a ball in ten days’ time. I’m not certain I can.”
“It’s still uncharitable. You deserve the opportunity to show what you can do. But I can’t help feeling as though my father is hoping you will fail, just as he is with agreeing to let you sponsor Cassandra.”
“I’m not at all sure that’s his wish. He wants Cass to marry. I actually believe he wants me to succeed in pairing her off with an appropriate gentleman.”
“Because it serves him.” Constantine scoffed. “What does he get from us having a ball that is practically tomorrow?”
“He wants us to present Cass to Society. The ball in her honor will elevate her visibility and encourage more suitors. However, at present no one wants to court her because they are too intimidated by your father.”
Constantine frowned. The ridiculous rumor he’d heard at White’s was apparently not just a rumor. “No one? Are all of London’s bachelors without fortitude? If they think the duke is frightening, they will not be satisfactory husbands for my sister. Furthermore, she can be just as intimidating.” He muttered the last.
“Can she? I find her quite lovely.” She gave him a coy look. “Perhaps she only shows that side to her older brothers when they deserve it.”
“I had no idea you could be so saucy.”
Her lids fluttered as she glanced away. “I didn’t mean to be.”
He reached for her hand and held it, the back against his palm. “I think you did, and I’m more than eager for it.” He liked this side of her. Or this new part of her. Whatever it was, she was enticing and interesting, and he was bloody cursing all the wasted time they hadn’t spent together.
Her lips curled into a slight, rather provocative smile. “Then I shall endeavor to increase my sauciness.” She turned her hand over so that they were palm to palm. They sat like that for a moment in silence, their eyes locked. Though the touch was simple, it drove a keen yearning straight into the deepest part of him.
