Fit for a Duke: Dangerous Dukes

by Wendy Soliman

  Clio leaned against the wall, mindless of her delicate satin snagging against the rough wood, and pondered upon her dilemma. As far as she knew, no other male guests had yet to arrive and those that were here were either changing for dinner or socialising in the drawing room. Clio didn’t allow many things to daunt her, but an influential duke intent upon murder…She would be no match for such a person and this was none of her affair.

  Except that it was. If a murder occurred at her aunt’s party then it would be Aunt Fletcher’s reputation that suffered. It seemed most unfair since her aunt was incapable of harming a fly, but that was the way these things worked. Clio told herself she would be best advised not to stick her nose in where it had no place. She should slip away, and no one would be any the wiser.

  ‘A dagger seems the most feasible.’

  Despite herself, a worried gasp slipped past Clio’s lips.

  ‘What was that?’ The duke’s voice turned sharp. ‘Did you hear something?’

  ‘No, your grace. Just the horses shuffling about and the grooms going about their duties. No one has time to listen to our conversation, which ought to be taking place in your chamber while you change. You are keeping everyone waiting.’

  ‘Let them wait. This is more important. Besides, this is not the sort of conversation to be had indoors, where there will be eyes and ears everywhere. I need to check that we really are alone before we decide what’s best to be done.’

  Damnation, it was the duke. She heard footsteps approaching the door and frantically looked round for a means of escape. None was available to her. Curiosity and indecision had caused her to miss her opportunity. Before she could decide what to do, she sensed a presence looming behind her and then a large hand clamped down over her mouth, preventing her from screaming.

  ‘So,’ said a smooth voice from over her shoulder, ‘they have set a woman to spy. How desperate they must be. Am I supposed to fall for your charms, my lovely? Are you here to entice me into temptation?’ Clio felt furious with herself when her body responded to the hard feel of his as he pressed against her back—and lower. ‘In which case, you might want to rethink that gown. It isn’t nearly revealing enough.’

  How dare he! Anger drove away the remnants of Clio’s fear. He loosened the hand that covered her mouth, presumably because he assumed he had nothing to fear from her. She vowed to teach him the error of his ways and bit him.

  Hard.

  ‘Ouch!’ The hand was removed. ‘So,’ the deep rumbling voice, the seductive lure of which she fought to ignore, ‘the witch has teeth. Now that I know what sort of game you want to play, I will of course be happy to oblige.’

  ‘Let go of me!’

  The duke still stood behind her, solid and unmoving. Clio attempted to alter that situation by depositing her elbow in his gut with considerable force. It was like colliding with a brick wall, and he didn’t even flinch.

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, woman!’ He grabbed her upper arm and steered her into the tack room, where a man dressed in the uniform of a senior servant watched developments with amusement. The dog had reappeared and wagged its tail at the duke.

  ‘Well, Merlin,’ the duke said. ‘A fine guard dog you’re turning out to be. If you continue to neglect your duties then I shall regret adopting you. You are supposed to warn me of intruders before they get close enough to eavesdrop on private conversations.’

  ‘I was not eavesdropping.’

  The duke sent her a haughty and disbelieving look—at least Clio thought it was disbelieving, considering that eavesdropping was exactly what she had been doing. Her first sight of the duke’s face had stolen away her anger and left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. She already knew that the man possessed a well-toned body. It seemed unfair that he should also have the face of a god, albeit a very angry yet faintly amused god.

  Amused because he didn’t think she was nearly attractive enough to seduce him, she supposed. That had not been her intention, of course, but never one to back away from a challenge, she would show him!

  ‘I should say I was not deliberately eavesdropping,’ she said, tossing her head in an effort to relocate her dignity and, to her dismay, feeling Daisy’s elaborate coiffure lurch to one side. ‘I found the dog, wondered who he belonged to and followed him back here, that is all.’

  ‘Of course it is.’ The duke executed an elegant bow that somehow managed to convey sarcasm before introducing himself. ‘I am Wickham. May I know your name?’

  ‘I am Clio Benton,’ she replied, elevating her chin. ‘And I will have you know that this is usually a peaceful and quiet house whose owner would not harm a fly. So who is it that you have come here to murder, your grace?’

  Ezra went from anger to lazy amusement in the blink of an eye. This was no femme fatale, more’s the pity. He was long overdue a little wenching and a clash of wills. He glanced at the lady, little more than a girl in fact, in her turquoise gown with her hair askew. She had an unfashionable decoration of freckles across the bridge of her nose that created in him an inappropriate stirring of interest.

  He had felt stirrings of an even less appropriate nature when he had pressed himself against her body, which is why he’d taken a half step back and released the pressure on her mouth, leaving her with a chance to retaliate that he had assumed she would be too terrified to grasp. He glanced at his hand, on which teeth marks were visible. The child clearly had some bite to her, in all senses of the word, and he would not underestimate her for a second time, even though she was far too young to be of interest to him in any other lasting respect. She was little more than half his age.

  Whether or not she had come upon him by accident was a moot point. She must have overheard their conversation and misinterpreted it. Should he allay her fears or perpetuate them? Ezra was unsure. He would need to find out more about her before he reached a decision. What she was doing here on this estate would be as good a place as any to start. He had certainly undertaken worse assignments in his time.

  ‘Benton,’ he said. ‘Was your father Major General Sir Edward Benton?’

  Her eyes widened. They were rather remarkable, he noticed. Very large and an unusual shade of violet shot with silver. Eyes that a man could drown in, if he didn’t have a care.

  ‘You knew Papa?’ she asked with an air of desperation.

  ‘I served in his regiment, and a finer officer never drew breath,’ Ezra said, meaning it. ‘You have my sympathy, Miss Benton.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied with quiet dignity, as tears clouded those lovely eyes.

  Ezra gave himself a mental shake when the desire to comfort her in the manner that sprang spontaneously to mind became deucedly difficult to resist. Just because she was Benton’s daughter and clearly still mourned his loss, it did not necessarily follow that she hadn’t been recruited to distract him; an ambition that she would find remarkably easy to achieve, Ezra was shocked to discover.

  Since when had he been reduced to seducing chits barely out of the schoolroom? The question brought him to his senses, after a fashion. Delightful as Miss Benton seemed, Ezra reminded himself that he had accepted an invitation to this party for a reason—a reason that had little to do with his mother’s determination to marry him off.

  He regarded Miss Benton with a speculative expression.

  ‘I should leave,’ she said, turning away. It occurred to Ezra then that she didn’t seem overly impressed to find herself alone with the guest of honour. It was a situation that the majority of single females would not hesitate to turn to their own advantage. However, Ezra would wager half his fortune that stratagems of that nature had not occurred to this most unusual female.

  He ought to allow her to leave and trust her not to repeat and exaggerate what she had overheard. That would be the sensible and honourable course of action. If she claimed that he was planning a murder, no one would take her seriously. It would be her word against his, after all. Even so, he couldn’t let her go, at least not until he had discovered
why she had been lurking in the vicinity of the stables, dressed in her finery, when the majority of her sex wouldn’t risk soiling their slippers in such a fashion, not for fifty pounds.

  ‘Why are you really here?’ he asked, his voice hardening.

  ‘Where I go and what I do is none of your affair.’ She raised her chin, dignified beyond her years and apparently unafraid of him. When Ezra chose to enforce his authoritative status as a duke, few if any had the courage to oppose him. But this chit seemed impervious to his manner, which only served to increase an interest in her that Ezra absolutely couldn’t afford to pursue. ‘I should remind you that I am not one of your minions, your grace, and I do not answer to you. Nor do I respond well to demands issued by a person who has no authority over me. Besides, I should have thought that a gentleman of your stature would be above bullying a helpless female.’

  Godfrey, Ezra’s man, who had witnessed the exchange without endeavouring to conceal his amusement, turned a guffaw into a cough.

  ‘Bully? Helpless?’ Ezra chortled. ‘I have enjoyed the dubious pleasure of your company for less than five minutes, Miss Benton, but I am already convinced that there is nothing helpless about you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied with a sweetly sarcastic smile.

  ‘And I do not bully people.’

  ‘Perhaps you do not mean to,’ she replied, canting her head in a considering manner, not appearing to notice that the abrupt movement caused her coiffure to slide further to one side, dangerously close to collapse. A long curling strand escaped its pins and tumbled down her back. Ezra was filled with a ridiculous desire to pick it up and run it through his fingers. He clasped his hands behind his back before they could develop a will of their own. Really, this confrontation was not going his way, and yet he was enjoying it enormously and felt no pressing need to bring it to an end.

  He couldn’t remember the last occasion upon which he had enjoyed an exchange with any female quite so much. And yet she couldn’t be more than seventeen. It was quite remarkable.

  ‘You are very unusual,’ he said.

  ‘I like to think so.’ She offered him a wry smile and spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. Merlin took it as an invitation to be petted and pushed his head beneath one of her gloved hands. She laughed and tugged at his ears, not seeming to notice that the white kid gloves in question came away covered in dark dog hair. ‘Everyone who knows me even a little says the same thing, and not always in quite such a complimentary manner. I speak my mind far too freely, you see, but really I see little point in being like everyone else. Life would be terribly dull if we were all exactly the same, wouldn’t it? But that is what society appears to aspire towards. One is criticised, I am told, if one does anything the slightest bit spontaneous.’

  ‘Your outspokenness is refreshing.’

  Miss Benton smiled properly—a wide, uncontrived smile—for the first time since their exchange had begun, and the gesture highlighted her features. He noticed her high cheekbones, tinged with a blush of embarrassment, the pleasing shape of her small nose and a delightful, very slightly pointed chin. Her mouth held his attention for a little too long. He moistened his own lips as he contemplated tasting hers and turned abruptly away before whimsy overcame common sense.

  He wondered if he had taken a blow to the head in the recent past without realising it. God alone knew, he did not always come out on the winning side of his battle of wills with Pharaoh. Temporary insanity brought about by that means was the only way that he could account for his out of character behaviour.

  ‘My aunt Fletcher would give you an argument in that respect. Young ladies, in her view, should not have opinions of their own, and if they do they most certainly shouldn’t voice them in polite company. Especially not in front of high-ranking strangers.’

  Of course! Ezra recalled Benton mentioning that Lady Fletcher was his sister. Benton’s wife had died in childbirth, and he had not remarried, dedicating himself instead to his army career. He wondered who had cared for this sprightly child during his long absences when he was away fighting for king, country and personal glory and hoped it was a duty that had fallen to Lady Fletcher.

  Ezra recalled her from his youth. Those halcyon days when it hadn’t once occurred to him that he was destined to become duke and be saddled with all the responsibilities the position brought with it. Lady Fletcher hadn’t squealed on Ezra and his friends when she came upon them transgressing various rules, and had proved to be the best possible fun, if a little vague. She was a lady who saw the good in everyone. Ezra knew he was here to look over her elder daughter and wished for a prolonged moment, as he again glanced at Miss Benton, that it could be otherwise. That possibility didn’t seem nearly so distasteful as the cattle market that went by the name of the marriage mart.

  ‘Lady Fletcher is not unique in that regard,’ he said.

  ‘You do not seem to mind what I say to you. Then again, I don’t suppose I would be able to address you, or hold your attention even if I managed to, in the company of others. I know my place,’ she said with a whimsical smile, the effects of which Ezra reacted to somewhere in the region of his groin. ‘You realise, I suppose, that you will be surrounded by sycophants and…well, eligible ladies the moment you step into the house—’

  ‘And you are not eligible, Miss Benton?’ Enjoying himself enormously, Ezra clutched dramatically at his heart. ‘Am I not permitted to admire you also? Please say you are not spoken for.’

  ‘Don’t be so foolish, your grace. I am only here to make up the numbers and because…well, because I live here and my aunt couldn’t avoid including me, but I am most definitely not supposed to put myself forward—which naturally I wouldn’t dream of doing.’

  ‘Oh, naturally!’

  ‘Stop laughing at me!’ she cried, laughing herself. ‘I am trying very hard to behave with propriety, but I give you due warning, if you will insist upon provoking me then I shall not be able to help myself from retaliating. I have a perverse nature, you see, and can never resist a challenge.’

  ‘In what manner would you retaliate?’

  She gave an arch smile. ‘If I told you that then you would take steps to prevent me.’

  It occurred to Ezra then that her intention might actually be to repeat the essence of the conversation she had overheard and obviously misinterpreted to a third party. That thought brought him to his senses and he adjured himself to stop flirting with the chit who, despite her extreme youth, seemed perfectly capable of holding her own against him.

  ‘Anyway, why are you here when you ought to be in the house, changing for dinner?’

  Ezra looked at her askance, taken aback. No one ever dared to question his behaviour; especially not strangers. It didn’t seem to occur to the child that she had just crossed several boundaries in terms of social decorum, to say nothing of good manners. Even so, he glanced down at his stained shirtsleeves and dusty boots, damage incurred during yet another battle for supremacy with Pharaoh, and conceded that she had a point. He had ridden without a hat and his hair was doubtless a mass of tangles and knots, a situation that wouldn’t normally perturb him.

  Today, for reasons he preferred not to examine, it did. He wanted this most unusual, spirited and highly individual child-woman to think the best of him. Her gaze roamed impudently over his dishevelled person, making it clear that she wasn’t particularly impressed by what she saw. He retaliated by allowing his gaze to rest significantly upon her collapsed coiffure.

  ‘My aunt has already deferred dinner for an hour pending your arrival, which will inconvenience her servants,’ Miss Benton remarked. ‘But still, I don’t suppose the upset to their routine will trouble your conscience.’

  ‘Do you always speak so much and so freely?’

  ‘Heavens no! It simply isn’t done.’ She smiled and Ezra couldn’t have torn his gaze away if his life had depended upon it. He once again reminded himself that she had been eavesdropping on his conversation with Godfrey and gave hims
elf a mental dressing down. He looked over at Godfrey, who was watching their exchange silently, although his smile spoke volumes. A less likely spy it was difficult for him to imagine, which meant he was duty bound to mistrust her. But there again, if she had been commissioned by his would-be murderer to lower his defences then it ought to concern him, since his foe had shown considerable cunning in making such an unlikely and captivating choice. But he had her measure now. He would control his most peculiar initial reaction to her and turn the tables on her in the hope that she would lead him directly to the person who meant him harm.

  Having found a justification for pursuing the connection, Ezra spoke again. ‘You shame me,’ he said, glancing down at his boots.

  ‘That I very much doubt.’ She paused. ‘So why are you planning to kill someone?’ Her tone remained conversational. ‘What has your victim done to displease you, and is it anyone I might know?’

  Chapter Three

  ‘I beg your pardon.’

  Clio felt her cheeks glow when she recalled the impudent manner in which she had addressed her aunt’s guest of honour and wondered what had made her do it. But, she reasoned, searching for a way to justify her irrational behaviour, he had set the tenor for their conversation, so the blame was entirely his. She had merely retaliated. He probably wasn’t accustomed to people—especially young women—standing up to him, but it was important to make him see that he didn’t intimidate her.

  At least not very much.

  Anyway, if he thought her impertinent there was nothing to prevent him from sneering down the ducal nose and walking away, so she was surprised by his willingness to linger. Presumably he needed to satisfy himself that he had charmed her into keeping his secret. She could easily believe that the quicksilver charm in question had got him out of trouble on countless occasions.

  ‘I believe you heard the question,’ she replied, meeting his gaze and holding it, ignoring the fact that his penetrating blue eyes appeared to be able to see into her soul. That was ridiculous, of course. She was in danger of becoming as fanciful as Beth. Everyone knew that souls were invisible, and would be unaffected by the power of a provocative expression. ‘However, I will gladly repeat it. Whom do you intend to kill and why?’