Gambling on the Duke's Daughter

by Diana Bold

  “Then let me be the first.” Natalia delighted in the verbal sparring. “I will not dance with you. Not tonight. Not next week. Not a month from now. You might as well give up and quit asking.”

  “Are you afraid of me?” he asked, changing tactics. “Do you fear even a moment in my arms will prove to be too much temptation?”

  Natalia caught her breath, unwilling to admit, even to herself, how close he was to the truth. “Honestly, Captain! You think far too highly of yourself, I assure you!”

  He clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me, milady. Do you really think me such a cad?”

  A cad? She looked into those sparkling gray eyes, no longer empty but filled with youth and vitality. He seemed different tonight, so much the man of her dreams. She wondered if her first impression had been wrong.

  “I don’t think you’re a cad. Not in the least.” The words spilled out as she lost the battle to remain aloof. She stepped closer and lowered her voice so no one else would hear her pour her heart out to him. “In fact, I’ve never known such a hero. I’d be honored if you’d share some of your experiences during the war.”

  His slate-gray eyes reflected sudden cynicism and the shadow she’d seen before returned full force. “Ah. You’re one of those.”

  “One of whom?” He didn’t seem to care for the type of person he assumed her to be, and she wanted to redeem herself.

  “You want to hear stories of bravery and courage. You think it’s all so romantic.” Palpable anger and disdain filled his voice, quite out of proportion to the innocent request.

  “Is that so wrong?” She’d obviously made a terrible blunder. “I didn’t intend to offend you, Captain Blake.”

  He sighed and looked away. When his gaze met hers again, his anger had vanished, replaced by weariness. “There’s nothing wrong with curiosity. But war isn’t at all what you think. There’s nothing romantic about young men dying of measles and dysentery. There’s nothing romantic about watching your friends cut down and bleeding all around you.”

  Stark and full of pain, his words illuminated the brutal realities of war in a way she’d never considered. This glimpse of what the war had cost him made her feel shallow and very naïve. “Did you lose many friends?”

  For a long moment, she didn’t think he would answer but then he nodded. “There was one... he was like a father to me. I miss him every day.” He gave a short huff of laughter. “Do you know you’re the first person who’s ever asked me that? They ask me about everything else, but they never want to hear about all those who died.”

  She desperately wanted to reach over and squeeze his hand. She wanted to hug him, give him comfort in some small way. Unfortunately, the circumstances and the crowd made such a thing impossible.

  “You can find me riding in the park at ten each Tuesday morning if you’d like someone to talk to,” she offered impulsively.

  Dylan stared at her, surprise chasing away the shadows in his eyes. “I might take you up on that. But if you’re willing to make such an improper offer, surely you can dance with me tonight? Come on, my love. It’s just a dance. What harm can there be in that? You’ve danced with nearly everyone else who’s asked you.”

  “I don’t know...”

  My love. How was a girl supposed to stand firm in the wake of such an inappropriate endearment?

  He was simply too potent, too male. And tonight, he’d let down his defenses. He’d given her a small glimpse of the complex, emotional man beneath the charming scoundrel.

  “Who’s next on your dance card?” he asked, obviously sensing he was close to victory. “Tell me, and I’ll go arrange to take his place.”

  She lifted the small square, which was attached to her wrist by a dainty ribbon, and scanned it. Her heart sank when she saw the next name on the list.

  “It’s Neptune, I’m afraid.” Lord Sherbourne’s golden perfection had also been impossible to hide.

  “Michael.” Dylan’s smile faded. “You never seem to think twice before agreeing to dance with him.”

  Natalia stared into Dylan’s turbulent gray eyes and saw yet another glimpse of what drove him. Here was a man who had been passed over for his brother far too often.

  “Lord Sherbourne is a far more... appropriate partner,” she told him, wishing things could be different.

  “For once in your life, don’t worry about what everyone will think.” The fierce intensity in his voice sent a shiver down his spine. “Look at me. Don’t shut me out the way you do all the others. You don’t have to protect yourself. I’m not after your dowry.”

  She was stunned by his correct interpretation of her emotions. He seemed to understand her so well.

  “Then what do you want from me?” She’d wanted to know the answer to that question since the moment they’d met. She held her breath and hoped his answer would be the one she longed to hear, terrified he’d disappoint her.

  He smiled and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “All I want is to make you laugh. I want to dance with you. Maybe even steal a kiss or two.”

  His voice dropped, so low and intimate she strained to hear it over the music and laughter surrounding them. “I could show you what it’s like to feel passion before your father sells you off to some cold stiff like my brother.”

  If he’d been anyone else, she would have slapped him for daring to suggest such a thing. Instead, his honesty both thrilled and frightened her. Dear Lord, she wanted nothing more than to share an illicit kiss with this beautiful man.

  But before she could answer, he stiffened and stepped away. “I’ll see you again in a few days. Promise me you’ll think about what I’ve said.”

  Then he turned and disappeared through the crowd.

  She stared after him in dismay. How could he simply walk away after saying such a thing? And how could she survive the next few days with the images his words had conjured up running amok through her brain?

  Irrationally, she considered chasing after him. What did her pride or reputation matter, when she’d been denied her heart’s desire?

  But then she saw the reason for his hasty retreat. Neptune approached, ready to claim his dance.

  DYLAN WATCHED FROM the gallery above the dance floor as Michael offered Natalia his arm. She smiled and accepted, but she seemed distracted.

  Despite Michael’s untimely interruption, Dylan knew he’d gained a remarkable amount of ground. She’d invited him to meet her in the park, where she’d be chaperoned by nothing more than a groom.

  Foolish girl.

  He felt a momentary twinge of guilt about the white lies he’d told to earn her trust. He did want her dowry. Dear Lord, who wouldn’t? But he felt safe pretending disinterest because they both knew he could never have it.

  She hated the fact that every suitable young man in England chased after her because she was a great heiress. She wanted to be wanted for herself—something he found far too easy to understand.

  Unfortunately, the rest of what he’d told her was true. He did want to kiss her. He also wanted to dance with her; not because of the bet, but because he wanted to know how she’d feel in his arms.

  He shifted, confused by his own emotions. She drew him for reasons he didn’t understand. With each encounter, he found himself even more infatuated.

  His previous conquests lacked Natalia’s innate sweetness and tender, caring nature. Gentle and soft-spoken, she reminded him of his mother. A true lady.

  But she also possessed a hidden core of fire, and he was dying to ignite the flames.

  An uneasy frown pulled at the corners of his mouth as he watched the object of his pursuit twirl across the dance floor in his brother’s arms. Jealousy clawed in his gut as he realized how very much he envied his brother the ability to court Lady Natalia Sinclair in truth.

  “You don’t seem to be having much luck, Blake.”

  Dylan whirled around at the sound of Jonathan’s smug voice, instantly on the defensive. “I still have a week,” he reminded his ne
mesis. “And I’m making progress.”

  Jonathan laughed. “Is that why you’re up here and your brother is dancing with the lady in question?”

  Dylan leaned against the rail and strove to maintain a casual pose. “Michael wants to marry the girl. I simply want to dance with her. We have two entirely different agendas.”

  Jonathan nodded. “Oh, I see. You have absolutely no desire to get your hands on Lady Natalia’s dowry.”

  “Why are you trying so hard to provoke me?” Dylan asked, irritated. “Are you still angry I took your spot on the polo team all those years ago?”

  Jonathan flushed and looked away. “Of course not.”

  “Then what’s this about? Are you trying to stir up trouble for Lady Natalia? Perhaps because you’ve had even less luck with her than I?”

  “Don’t be absurd.” Jonathan glared at Dylan, his anger so far out of proportion to the question that Dylan felt certain his barb had been correct. “Quit trying to change the subject, Blake. You only have a week left. I suggest you make the most of it.”

  “Oh, I will,” Dylan called, as Jonathan walked away. “You can count on it.”

  Chapter Six

  “I think you’re very wise to set your cap for Viscount Sherbourne.”

  Startled, Natalia glanced up at her stepmother, Clarice. “Sherbourne? Whatever makes you think I’m interested in him?”

  They sat in the duchess’s lovely little morning room, which she’d decorated soon after her marriage to Natalia’s father two years ago. Clarice’s pale skin and white-blond hair were a lovely contrast to the ice blue and gold color scheme, as she’d no doubt known they would be.

  Clarice laughed. “Well, you allowed him to call on you, which was certainly a first. And I saw your face when you talked to him at the masque. You positively glowed.”

  Only five years older than Natalia, Clarice didn’t fit the picture of the wicked stepmother so often portrayed in fairy tales. Clarice had never tried to take Anastasia Sinclair’s place in Natalia’s heart. Instead, she opted to fill the role of nosy big sister. They were the best of friends, and Natalia knew she must tread very carefully, lest Clarice guess the truth.

  “Was I?” If she’d been glowing when she’d spoken to Sherbourne, it was because of the fire Captain Blake sparked within her, not anything Sherbourne had said or done.

  “I don’t blame you,” Clarice continued. “He was my first choice, back when I had my Season. I would have married him in an instant, if he’d asked.”

  Natalia paused in the process of pouring the tea, surprised by her stepmother’s candor. While Clarice thought nothing of giving Natalia advice and prying into her private affairs, she rarely spoke about herself.

  Laughing, Clarice took the teapot and finished serving. “Don’t look so shocked. Did you think it was my choice to marry a man thirty years my senior, who was interested in nothing except getting a male heir?”

  “Has it been so terrible? Being married to my father?”

  Clarice sighed and shook her head. “He doesn’t mistreat me, if that’s what you mean. I’ve learned to handle him quite nicely. But our marriage is hardly the romance I’d imagined for myself.”

  Natalia reached across the table and patted Clarice’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  Clarice shrugged, obviously embarrassed. “Don’t mind me, darling. I’m just a little melancholy today.” She squeezed Natalia’s hand as though it gave her strength and then released it. “My monthlies have started, and I dread telling the duke I’ve failed to conceive once again.”

  “Oh, Clarice.” Natalia didn’t know what else to say. She knew how much the duchess wanted a child of her own. The duke was a hard man, very verbal about the fact that Clarice’s only worth lay in her ability to provide a male heir.

  Clarice took a long, bracing sip of her tea, then pasted on a bright smile. “I’d much rather talk about that stunning young viscount. Do tell me you’re considering him.”

  “I have no say in the matter,” Natalia reminded her. “You know Father will never allow me to choose a mere viscount over Prince Nikolai.”

  “But Sherbourne will be an earl someday. I’m certain we can convince your father to consider him.” Clarice clapped her hands together, her excitement obviously growing as she thought her scheme through. “All you have to do is bring him to heel. He needs to propose soon, before the end of the Season. Then there will be no need for our trip to Russia.”

  Natalia looked away, shamed by her stepmother’s enthusiasm. “I like Sherbourne well enough,” she admitted. “He’d make a much better husband than Prince Nikolai.”

  “But...?” Clarice stared at Natalia, a knowing look her eyes. “There’s someone else?”

  Natalia decided it might help to talk about this with somebody. “Oh, Clarice! He’s so dreadfully wrong for me. I know I can never have him, but he’s all I can think about. All I dream about.”

  “Do you love this young man?” Clarice’s voice dropped to a mere whisper. “Have you let him compromise you?”

  “No. Of course not,” Natalia said quickly. Too quickly.

  Clarice leaned forward, her forehead puckered with concern. “Which part are you denying?”

  “I hardly even know him, so I can’t be in love.” Natalia closed her eyes against the thought, but that didn’t help. Dylan Blake’s darkly handsome image was seared beneath her lids.

  She couldn’t wait to see him again, but this was only Sunday. Tuesday seemed an eternity away. Would he take her up on her impulsive offer to meet her in the park?

  With a shiver, she tried to pull her mind back to the matter at hand. “As for the other part... I haven’t so much as let him touch my hand. Yet.”

  “Yet?” Clarice shook her head in dismay. “You can’t honestly be thinking about allowing this man to take liberties?”

  Natalia gave an uneasy laugh. “I just told you that I can’t think of anything else.”

  Clarice moved to sit beside her on the small sofa, her gaze searching and intense. “Natalia, no good can come of this. You have to forget these wild ideas.”

  Natalia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right. I know you are.”

  “Then promise me you’ll consider Sherbourne. You could be so very happy with him, darling. And I’ll speak to your father, if you want me to. Smooth the way. I know he doesn’t really like the idea of marrying you off to that Russian. We’ll probably never see you again if Prince Nikolai manages to win your hand.”

  Natalia hugged Clarice, overwhelmed by her stepmother’s generosity. “You don’t have to do that, but thank you for offering.”

  Clarice wouldn’t be dissuaded. “I know this other young man seems very appealing, but wouldn’t you rather know for certain that you’re going to marry someone like Sherbourne? Someone handsome, kind, and virile? You’ve told me how much Prince Nikolai frightens you.”

  Clarice seemed quite taken with the idea of having Michael Blake as a son-in-law.

  Natalia shrugged. “You’re right. If it came to a decision between Nikolai and Sherbourne, the viscount would be the best choice.”

  “Then you have to let your father know you’re interested. Right now, he believes you want to marry Prince Nikolai.”

  “Why on earth would he think such a thing? I’ve told him I abhor the idea more times than I can count.”

  Clarice shook her head. “To men, actions speak louder than words. He hasn’t paid much attention to what you’ve said, but he watches you far more closely than you think. You’ve been so aloof, so uninterested in London’s most eligible bachelors. He thinks you’re holding out to be a princess.”

  Natalia choked back a laugh. “If that’s the case, then he doesn’t know me at all.”

  “What man ever truly knows any woman?” Clarice patted Natalia’s knee. “Just think about what I’ve said. You’ve got some important decisions to make, and you’re running out of time.”

  TUESDAY MORNING DAWNED warm and bright,
full of possibilities. Natalia hurried through breakfast then rushed down to the stables for her weekly ride.

  The young groom, Alec, was still sweeping out the stalls when she arrived. The smell of manure and fresh hay reminded her of her father’s country estate, where she’d spent much of her childhood. Although early, she chafed with impatience as she waited for Alec to saddle her small bay mare, Betsy.

  Finally, they were off. Alec trailed respectfully behind her as they headed into the park.

  Natalia took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and tried to calm her rioting emotions. She must consider the possibility Captain Blake wouldn’t even show. But in her heart, she knew he’d been looking forward to this encounter as much as she had.

  The park was nearly deserted at this time of morning, so the risk of being caught was minimal. And besides, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Just a chance meeting between two acquaintances. Alec would be within sight the entire time. It wasn’t as though the captain could actually kiss her...

  Shaking her head against such foolishness, Natalia rose up in her saddle and scanned the trees. With a sigh of disappointment, she sank back down and urged her mare toward the secluded back edge of the park. Maybe he didn’t want to show himself until he knew they wouldn’t be seen.

  Just when she’d nearly given up hope, she caught sight of him. He skirted a stand of oaks, riding a magnificent gray gelding, his dark hair gleaming in the sunlight. She drew in a deep breath, dazzled as ever.

  Smiling in delight, she lifted a hand and waved in a very unladylike manner.

  He returned her wave with equal enthusiasm and guided his horse toward hers at a spirited canter. He rode with the grace of a born horseman. He must have been awe-inspiring in full dress uniform as he led the Calvary into battle.

  “Good morning, Lady Natalia,” he called, his voice filled with good humor. “What a surprise, running into you here.”