Unmasking the Duke (Rogue Hearts Series Book 5)

by Donna Hatch

  Hannah made a face. “A true paragon.”

  Alicia smiled. “I know you find him arrogant, but I’m sure he can’t help himself. I imagine any child who inherits the richest and most powerful title and property, second only to a royal duke, would grow up to be a man become accustomed to . . .”

  “All the bowing and scraping?”

  “A high level of deference,” Alicia corrected. “Everyone admires and tries to emulate him. He takes his duties very responsibly and has uncommonly exacting standards for himself, which is why he excels at everything.”

  Hannah sniffed. “And views the rest of us as insects beneath his boots.”

  Her sister laughed softly. “Very well. I can see I cannot extol his virtues enough to change your opinion.”

  “No, and it doesn’t signify; Cole was born heir to an earldom and manages not to be an insufferable bore.”

  “True.” Alicia stood. “I believe I’ll lie down now for a few minutes before I return to check progress in the ballroom. I want to be well-rested tonight. You probably should nap, too.”

  Hannah glanced sharply at her. But her sister seemed genuinely fatigued, so perhaps she meant the words sincerely rather than a prettily couched, overprotective statement about how Hannah ought to rest because “as we all know, you are rather delicate”—a statement that made Hannah fearful as a child, and frustrated as she grew.

  Still, dancing until well after midnight would be fatiguing, not to mention keeping up with all the conversations and games that a large gathering required. Resigned, Hannah lay down until her lady’s maid tiptoed in.

  Hannah lifted her head. “I’m awake, Turner. What is it?”

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, miss but my lady wishes you to join her in her front parlor for tea. There are some gentlemen callers, the Buchanan twins and Mr. Hill.”

  Hannah groaned. “Oh no. What next? I was careful not to encourage their attention.”

  Turner gave her her a rueful smile. “Not enough, it seems, miss.”

  Hannah could dawdle long enough for the gentlemen callers to give up on her and leave. But no, Alicia was right; she needed to learn to overcome her shyness. Casting off the temptation to avoid the guests, Hannah arose. Over her shift, stays, and petticoat, she put on an afternoon gown of white muslin with blue flowers. After touching up her hair, she went to the main floor. As she headed to Alicia’s back parlor, male voices and booted footsteps echoed behind her in the great hall.

  “Ah, Hannah,” Cole called out to her. “Is Alicia having tea in her parlor?”

  Hannah turned. Cole and the duke approached, both walking as if they owned the world. Tongue-tied, Hannah nodded.

  Cole quirked a brow at the duke. “Care to join us for tea?”

  “Thank you, no. I must return.” The duke passed a brief glance over Hannah.

  Cole made a loose gesture. “You remember my wife’s sister, Hannah Palmer, of course.”

  The duke blinked. “Yes, of course. Good afternoon.” He might as well have said, “No, I’m sure we’ve never met”; it would have been truthful.

  In a single graceful motion, he swept off his hat, revealing midnight hair and that distinctive patch of blond on the left side that apparently marked members of his family for generations. He appeared to be proud of the unusual birthmark judging by the way he parted his hair in the middle of it. Briefly, he dipped his chin in a ducal version of a bow when greeting someone of low consequence.

  Seething at his arrogance, Hannah sank into a very proper curtsy. In an act of uncommon boldness, fueled by ire, she offered a mischievous smile. “Delighted to see you again, Your Grace. I’m happy you’ve recovered from the strawberry incident.” There. She’d made her point without revealing any hint of annoyance that he’d failed to remember her, and she’d even spoken without stammering.

  His gray-green eyes opened wider, and his head jerked back ever so slightly in carefully controlled surprise. Was that a touch of blush on his finely chiseled cheekbones? Surely not. No one as perfect as the Duke of Suttenberg would do anything so boyish as blush.

  “Strawberries. Yes. I’m careful not to give them the upper hand.” His smooth baritone voice contained exactly the right amount of humor and arrogant savoir faire.

  She might have been charmed by the almost chagrined smile now curving his beautifully formed lips if she weren’t chewing on his admission that he refused to allow anyone, or anything, to best him. Not to mention that he still gave no hint of remembering her. He stood almost as tall as Cole, but where Cole had an intimidating breadth of shoulder, the duke had a lean, graceful build. But they stood with equally commanding postures inherent to peers who were lord of all they saw and knew it.

  Saucily she tossed her head. “I wish you success in your endeavors to submit all strawberries to your whim.”

  Cole glanced at her in surprise, as if he couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to speak so boldly. She could hardly believe it herself.

  The duke’s gaze flicked over her face, still showing no sign of recognition, but every sign of unconcern, although he did seem to study her more closely. “Yes, well, a pleasure to see you . . . again.” He turned away from her dismissively and focused on Cole. “Until this evening, it seems, Tarrington.”

  Hannah marched to the parlor without waiting to hear Cole’s reply. That duke! Insufferable, rude, arrogant . . . perfect people at the top of the social pyramid never seemed to have any tolerance for mere humans, nor would they do anything as lowering as willingly engage them in a true conversation.

  Still in a pique, Hannah entered Alicia’s parlor and tried not to glare at the trio of men who leaped to their feet at her arrival.

  “Miss Palmer, how kind of you to join us,” Mr. Hill called out before the twins could say a word. The young widower bowed low, revealing a thinning spot on the crown of his head.

  “How lovely you look, Miss Palmer,” one of the Buchanan twins exclaimed.

  “Of course, you always look lovely, Miss Palmer,” the other rushed to say.

  They bobbed alternating bows while Hannah tried to sort out which twin was Edmund and which was Eustace. There. Edmund’s face was slightly more angular and his chin pointed more than his brother’s. Eustace’s hair curled a little more over his ears. Both had barely reached their majority and probably had only started shaving a year or two ago.

  “Gentlemen.” Hannah gave what would loosely pass as a curtsy and sat next to her sister. At least this time she’d managed not to trip like she had the last time guests had paid a call.

  The callers perched on the edge of their seats. Alicia drank her tea, smiling as if enjoying a private joke.

  “I was just telling Lady Tarrington how much I’m looking forward to the masque tonight,” Mr. Hill said. “I hope you’ll do me the honor of saving me the supper dance.” He offered her an awkward smile as if he the expression were unusual for him.

  “I believe she is planning to save the supper dance for me,” Edmund said.

  Eustace cut in. “Surely you’d do me that honor, Miss Palmer.”

  From an assortment of pastries, Hannah selected an Eccles cake and bit into its buttery, crispy outside to the current-filled inside. Though her usual shyness had faded with each encounter with the sweet boys, she still found it difficult to converse with people outside her family. Unless she was angry at an arrogant duke, that is.

  Chewing gave her a moment to formulate a reply to the twins. “Since we are to be in masquerade, it is highly unlikely any of you will know me, nor I you.”

  “I would know you,” Eustace said with an adoring smile. “I only need to look for hair the color of morning sunlight to find you.”

  She smiled at his poetic turn of phrase but shook her head. “What if I wear a wig?”

  Eustace deflated.

  “I’d still know you.” Edmund puffed out his chest. “I’d recognize your figure and your walk.”

  Hannah cocked her head to one side. “I might be wearing clothin
g from a different era, which would alter the appearance of my figure.” She took another bite of the rich pastry.

  Edmund stubbornly shook his head. “I’ll still know you. And I plan to ask you for two sets of dances. I wish it could be more.” He eyed her hopefully.

  Hannah smiled. That’s all she needed—to dance more than two sets with one man in a single evening. People would think she was either “fast” or engaged to her partner. Of course, it was a masque; normal social rules did not apply. A liberating thought.

  Next to her, Alicia shifted. “It sounds as if you all had better stand up with as many ladies as possible to be sure you have, indeed, danced with my sister.”

  “To be sure, I will dance with every lady present until I’m certain I’ve found you, Miss Palmer,” Eustace said. “Well worth it.”

  Edmund looked thoughtful as if he might not recognize her despite a costume and mask. “I will, as well.”

  Mr. Hill took out his snuff box. “Gladly, I shall. I enjoy dancing and conversation as much as the next gentleman.” His words, however, lacked convention and he shot an uneasy glance at the twins.

  Hannah exchanged a knowing smile with her sister. Alicia had played that well. Now at least three gentlemen would dance with many partners in order to guarantee they’d found Hannah.

  Mr. Hill carefully placed and sniffed his snuff. “I entertain a great deal, as you know. My late wife, God rest her soul, was a brilliant hostess. I’m sure you will be too, Miss Palmer.”

  Hannah held out her hands. “Ah, no. I prefer a quiet life.”

  “Nonsense,” said Mr. Hill. “All pretty girls like you enjoy dinners and parties and balls.”

  Hannah stiffened. Mr. Hill had just proved how little he knew her with his silly generalization. She finished her pastry and sipped the last drop of her tea. She glanced at the gentlemen as she set her teacup on its saucer. She missed. It fell, landing with a thud on the carpet. Hannah cringed. At least the cup hadn’t broken, and there was no tea to be spilled.

  All three men leaped to their feet. Edmund got there first. Kneeling, he handed the cup to her.

  “Thank you.” Her face heated. Would she always be so clumsy in the company of others?

  Then Edmund shot his brother a triumphant smile. Her embarrassment turned to annoyance. He didn’t care to aid her; he only desired to beat out his brother for her favor. Were all gentlemen so competitive that they wanted to win, regardless of the prize?

  And moreover, why did gentlemen either view her as a forgettable, possibly invisible, minor nuisance or a delicate flower without the strength to do anything more strenuous than lift a teacup? And heaven forbid she have likes and dislikes different from other so-called pretty girls her age.

  Cole entered, greeted everyone, and went to Alicia. He kissed her offered cheek and sat next to her, devouring tea and scones as if he’d missed luncheon.

  Eustace glanced at the clock and stood. “We don’t wish to overstay our welcome, Lady Tarrington. Thank you for seeing us. Miss Palmer, I look forward to dancing with you tonight.”

  Edmund also stood. “Yes, thank you. I’m sure you’ll be the loveliest two ladies at the ball.”

  Mr. Hill took the cue and got to his feet. All the guests said their good-byes, leaving Hannah alone with Alicia and Cole. Tension left her as quickly as the guests. If only she could skip tonight’s masque.

  Leaning back against the seat, Hannah folded her arms and addressed her brother-in-law. “Did you enjoy balls when you were a bachelor?”

  Cole nodded thoughtfully. “I did back when I was young and green and eager to meet girls—especially because it took place when I had shore leave, and provided a nice diversion from the war, however brief. But balls and society games grew tiresome soon enough. Until I met your sister, of course.” He put an arm around Alicia.

  “The only time I stopped enjoying balls was when I had to hurry up and find a husband to save us from debtor’s prison.” Alicia cast a pained expression toward Cole.

  Hannah nodded. “But that worked out all right, in the end.”

  “And so it will tonight,” Alicia said. “It will be magical. Just be yourself and let your costume lend you confidence.”

  If costumes could magically summon wit and grace and poise, tonight would be perfect.

  Chapter Two

  Bennett Arthur Partridge, the Fifteenth Duke of Suttenberg, bid farewell to the Earl of Tarrington, someone whom he would have called friend if he dared let down his guard enough to actually have friends, and rode to his brother’s nearby home. As the afternoon sun waned, he arrived at his younger brother’s prosperous manor house. A flock of children playing on the lawn scampered up to him.

  “Uncle!” shouted his three-year-old nephew.

  Grinning, Suttenberg dismounted and scooped up the child, swinging him into the air. Suttenberg groaned and staggered as if the child had suddenly grown too heavy to manage. “Good heavens,” he teased. “Have you grown overnight? I do believe you are two stone heavier than yesterday!”

  The lad squealed a laugh. “I big boy.”

  “Yes, I do believe you have promise of becoming a big boy someday.”

  “I big boy!”

  “As you wish.” Arguing with a child always proved pointless.

  The other children danced around him, making more noise than a gaggle of geese. His nephew wiggled to get down. Suttenberg chuckled at the happy cacophony around him. His nephew raced off with the other children, scattering a flock of chickens and splashing through an unsuspecting mud puddle.

  “Be sure to get as dirty as possible!” Suttenberg called after them.

  “I heard that,” said a feminine voice.

  Suttenberg grinned at his sister-in-law, Meredith, as she smiled at him through an open window in the parlor.

  He strode in through the front door, handed his gloves, hat, and coat to the butler, and proceeded to the parlor where his grandmother, mother, and sister-in-law sat. Meredith bounced her baby, her second son, on her lap—the picture of maternal joy.

  From where she sat on a settee, his mother, the Duchess of Suttenberg, looked up from a letter she held. Her lace cap set off dark hair and a pair of gray-green eyes exactly the color of his own.

  “Good afternoon, Mother.” He kissed her cheek tilted up to receive him.

  “Is that my Bennett?” Grandmother called as if she were from across the room instead of in the next chair.

  All attempts to encourage the dear old lady to call him by his title had, obviously, failed. Her use of his Christian name reduced him to a boy in danger of either getting a whipping or being drawn into her arms and kissed repeatedly. But it lent an intimacy that Your Grace and Suttenberg—titles that had replaced his name twenty-five years ago—never did. Those titles represented all he must do as a duke, including controlling the weakness in his bloodline. The name Bennett reminded him of who he was as a person inside.

  “Yes, Mama, he’s back,” Suttenberg’s mother, whom he still often thought of simply as the duchess, said. Smiling, she glanced at Suttenberg. “How was your visit with Tarrington?”

  “Satisfying.” Suttenberg took a seat next to her near the window. “We found a solution to his drainage problem, and he seemed pleased. He challenged me to a fencing match Tuesday next. Always a pleasant diversion.”

  He drew a contented breath. Helping a fellow peer solve a problem for what would probably become one of his most prosperous areas of farmland provided a satisfaction that serving in Parliament never quite provided. Oh, he did his duty, as always, but there was something truly meaningful about finding resolutions to complicated problems. Moreover, being the person with the answers, someone to whom others turned, added another layer to his present sense of pleasure.

  The duchess indicated the letter in her hand. “Your sister has suffered yet another heartbreak.”

  “Oh dear,” he murmured. Poor girl fell in love too quickly and never seemed to give her heart to the right fellow.


  His mother’s brow furrowed. “Apparently, he said he couldn’t possibly live up to the Suttenberg standards, what with you as her brother.”

  Suttenberg paused, his contentment scattering like dry leaves in the wind. “Her favorite suitor dislikes the prospect of me as a brother-in-law?”

  The duchess gave him a patently patient smile, as if he’d missed something painfully obvious. “He believes himself unworthy of you and the Suttenberg family reputation.”

  Suttenberg winced. “Am I so insufferable?”

  “No, son, but you have a rather unimpeachable reputation, you know. Hard to measure up to that.”

  “Good heavens, Mother. That’s doing it rather too brown. I’m simply trying to live up to the family honor, not frighten off my sister’s suitors.”

  “It nearly frightened me away,” Meredith said from her corner of the room. She shrugged apologetically. “I’m sure you can’t help it that everyone looks to you as the standard in dress and behavior, and, well, everything. People naturally feel inferior in the face of such perfection.”

  Before Suttenberg could think of a reply to such a horrifyingly daunting and exaggerated statement, his grandmother cut in. “Did you find a wife yet, Bennett?” She looked in his direction, although her milky white eyes had gone blind years ago.

  Suttenberg coughed. “No, Grandmama, I have not yet found a wife.”

  “A life?” She frowned. “I didn’t ask about your life, boy; I asked about your wife!”

  He chuckled. At thirty-two, he was hardly a boy. He replied more loudly, “I have not found a wife, Grandmama.”

  She thumped her cane on the floor. “Humph! You’re dragging your feet, Bennett. Your brother already has two boys, and you aren’t even married yet.”

  “Phillip was remarkably fortunate. It’s not that simple for me. I have other—”

  “Eh? Speak up.”

  He cleared his throat and enunciated, “It’s not that simple.”

  “Pish.” Grandmother waved her cane. “It’s not so hard. Go find a suitable girl, and ask her father’s permission.”

  He cast off all other possible retorts and settled with, “Yes, ma’am.”