Unmasking the Duke (Rogue Hearts Series Book 5)

by Donna Hatch

  Hannah nodded at the mention of Cole’s handsome younger brother. Even Christian fell short in comparison to her Bennett, the Duke of Suttenberg. Intelligent, witty, accepting—even encouraging—of her ideas and dreams, and thoughtful, Bennett truly was as amazing as people thought. He wasn’t perfect, but that added to his appeal. Oh heavens, was she losing her heart to him?

  Foolish girl! Her feelings were irrelevant. She wasn’t meant to be a duchess: she disliked attention, she lacked poise, and most of all loomed that horrifying possibility that she couldn’t bear children so crucial to the continuation of the line.

  She stared at the lilacs in her hand. “I understand what you’re saying; liking him would be pointless.”

  Alicia touched her arm. “No, not pointless at all, dearest. Your dowry is respectable and being Cole’s sister-in-law raises you from the level of a country squire’s daughter, and you’re so beautiful and kind that everyone admires you. You have no reason to believe yourself beneath consideration. But a duchess is not an easy role to bear.”

  “I wouldn’t want people to watch me and talk about me, nor have false friends.” Hannah shook her head. “I won’t give him another thought. When we go to his hunting lodge, I will content myself with his library and gardens. The visit will be a pleasant diversion, nothing more.”

  Alicia hugged her, and they turned their attention to her ankle. Cole carried her up the stairs to her room. Though he was broader and more muscular than the duke, being in his arms invoked none of the pleasure of being in Bennett’s. She sighed. She’d have to put thoughts of Bennett out of her head. From now on, he was only the duke.

  But that night before she retired, she carefully pressed Bennett’s lilacs between the pages of her favorite book.

  Chapter Eight

  The Duke of Suttenberg stood in the small drawing room of his hunting lodge and tried not to look too often or too longingly at Hannah Palmer. He must resist temptation. Though he’d discovered in her an uncommon delight, someone as young and sweet and inexperienced as she would crumple under the pressures required of a duchess. He wouldn’t do that to her. Besides, at thirty, he was nearly twice her age.

  She drew his focus. She stood serenely, almost aloof, watching the others with an aura of quiet dignity. While the earl and countess conversed with everyone, Miss Palmer seemed content to observe.

  Since the houseguests were all assembled, he began the formal greetings. He led his mother to the Tarringtons. “You remember Lord and Lady Tarrington, of course, Duchess?”

  Voices in the room hushed as they often did when he spoke, and the guests turned to watch him.

  “Certainly.” Mother spoke confidently, unconcerned with the attention.

  Lord Tarrington bowed low. “You’re looking well, Duchess.”

  Lady Tarrington curtsied gracefully. “Lovely to see you again, Your Grace.”

  “Congratulations on the birth of your son,” the duchess said.

  She received equal looks of pride. “Thank you, Your Grace,” Lord Tarrington said. He gestured to Miss Palmer. “Please allow me to introduce Lady Tarrington’s sister, Miss Palmer.”

  With flushed cheeks that only added to her beauty, Miss Palmer curtsied without lifting her gaze.

  “My, you are even more beautiful up close,” Mother said.

  Blushing, Miss Palmer stammered, “Th-thank you. Your Grace.”

  Suttenberg smiled, hoping to steady her nervousness but she never raised her gaze to his. “I trust your ankle has healed?”

  She took her lip between her teeth briefly, those lush, sweet lips he’d kissed once. “Yes, Your Grace. It’s . . . well.” Her blush turned crimson, and her eyes narrowed as if she were in pain.

  Apparently, the question had the opposite effect. Mother looked at her in—was that sympathy or pity?—and moved on to meet the others. Pity was never a good sign. The duchess pitied the unfortunate, not ladies who won her approval. Miss Palmer took a step back and bumped into a small table. It teetered, setting a vase to wobbling. She turned and tried to catch the vase but knocked over a small picture in a frame.

  Some of the younger guests giggled. Miss Blackwood, the daughter of a marquis that his mother hoped he’d consider, stared at Miss Palmer as if she were a street urchin.

  After throwing a withering glare at the uncharitable girls, Suttenberg went to Miss Palmer’s side. He steadied the vase and righted the picture frame. “No harm done,” he said.

  After darting him a glance, she closed her eyes and swallowed as if trying to prevent tears.

  Poor girl. She’d never survive the spotlight always shining on a duchess. Odd, but when she’d pretended to be Aphrodite, she’d been so poised, so confident, not the bashful, clumsy girl he saw now. Even when she’d been limping and frightened of his horse, she hadn’t been so awkward.

  Miss Palmer’s sister, the Countess of Tarrington, went to her and squeezed her hand, giving the girl a sympathetic smile, then straightened her posture as if giving unspoken guidance. Miss Palmer followed suit, but kept her gaze downcast, her cheeks still reddened.

  To keep attention off the distraught girl, Suttenberg continued guiding his mother to each guest as if nothing had happened. He greeted Miss Blackwood and her parents without undue warmth, lest they be too encouraged by his attentions, and he welcomed Mr. Gregory, a longtime friend of the family, who managed to show equal parts deference and friendly affection for them both.

  Suttenberg clapped Mr. Gregory on the shoulder. “Always glad to see you, Gregory.”

  “You as well, Your Grace.” Mr. Gregory smiled and glanced at the duchess, his smile turning affectionate. “You’re radiant, as usual, Duchess.”

  As Mr. Gregory and Mother exchanged pleasantries, Miss Palmer practically disappeared into the background. After the butler announced dinner, they filed into the dining room and sat at a sumptuous meal, but Bennett hardly tasted it. His focus returned often to Hannah Palmer. She seldom spoke to her dinner companions. Trying to keep to his vow to avoid temptation, and to spare her the guests’ focus, he hardly looked at her all evening. Yet she occupied his thoughts all night, even as he tried to sleep.

  The following day, after he took all interested guests out to enjoy a morning hunt, he returned home while many of the others went on an extended ride. Inside the stables, he brushed his hunter, enjoying the uncomplicated pleasure of bonding time with his horse. After he’d finished, he headed for the hunting lodge, absently glancing at the pasture behind the stables where some of the horses grazed. Miss Palmer stood with her arms crossed on top of the fence, her chin resting on them, her attention wholly focused on a pair of colts prancing as if performing a dance for her. Despite his best intentions, he went to her like a moth to the flame. Would he be burned?

  He leaned against the fence and watched her, admiring the soft curve of her cheek. His fingers itched to touch it. She continued to stare at the horses in the pasture.

  Puzzled by her rapt attention on something that clearly terrified her, he asked, “What is it about horses that frightens you?”

  With a little start, she turned to him and smiled ruefully, “Forgive me; I did not see you.” She swallowed and returned her focus to the pastures. “I have always been afraid of horses; I feel small and helpless next to such big creatures.”

  A breeze carried the scents of fallen leaves, apples, and wood smoke. The air currents also teased the curls near her face. He inhaled and took a step closer to her. That aura of serenity that accompanied an unguarded Hannah enfolded him in a loving embrace.

  She moistened her lips. “When my brother Armand got a new horse, he wanted so badly for me to ride with him. So he brought out one of the smaller mares and convinced me to try. I had no sooner found my seat when something spooked the horse, and she started running. I was terrified. I was sure I would fall off and die.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No. I stayed on somehow. My brother caught up to us and pulled the horse to a stop. He pulle
d me off and held me, telling me over and over he was so sorry. I shook all over. I realized then how very little I could control such a big, strong animal. And I don’t really understand them. They seem so volatile. They are beautiful, and I love watching them—from a safe distance.”

  He nodded. “If you understand them, they may not seem so frightening. For example, look.” He pointed to a colt with his ears pricked forward. “He’s curious. But look at those two at the top of the hill. See the position of their heads? They’re aggressive. When they put their heads down and flatten their ears, they’re angry. And that one is pawing. He’s about to charge. Those by the ridge are relaxed—you can tell by their heads and their postures. That one over there, the little mare, she’s listening to us. See how her ears are turned our way?”

  Her face brightened. “I see.” Her smile turned sheepish. “You know, I’m surprised I haven’t noticed that before. I’m normally fairly observant about people. I’m surprised I didn’t see that about horses.”

  “You have to spend time in their company to discern little clues like that.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She returned her chin to her resting position with her arms atop the fence. “But they’re easily spooked. Can that be predicted?”

  “Sometimes. Sudden movements or loud noises will often do it. Some horses are more high-strung than others.” He turned to study her. “What do you observe about people?”

  She began an astonishingly accurate and detailed discourse about each of his guests—their names, habits, and relationships—ending with, “Dr. Power doesn’t mind everyone asking him for free medical advice. He’s such a gentle, fatherly sort of man. Oh, and Miss Blackwood has set her cap for you, in case you didn’t notice.”

  He nodded. “I did notice.”

  Miss Blackwood fit all my mother’s requirements. From the exterior, she seemed ideal, but she was too calculating. She would not stoop to help a lady who couldn’t remember the steps during a dance the way Miss Palmer had. And he could never allow a woman like Miss Blackwood to see the weakness deep inside him, a weakness he feared would reveal itself if he let down his guard.

  “But you don’t return her regard,” Hannah stated.

  “I’m not entirely sure she has a heart, and I required that in a wife.” He clamped his mouth shut. He seemed to have developed an appalling urge to speak his mind in Hannah’s presence.

  She smiled as if they were comrades. “I didn’t want to say that about her; it would have been impolite. But I agree.” Her tone turned wistful. “She probably rides beautifully.”

  “She does.”

  “And being the center of attention doesn’t fluster her.”

  “No, I agree; she rather prefers it.”

  Miss Palmer slumped a little. “I’d never make a good wife for a duke or a lord. I’d be better suited for a country squire—someone who won’t seek London society.”

  He ached to tell her that it didn’t matter. With a lady like her at his side, he wouldn’t feel so alone, wouldn’t feel the need to keep up pretenses every moment of the day, would love to immerse himself in her serenity. But she was right; she’d be happier living the country life with a man who wouldn’t subject her to society and London and moments when her shyness would cause her to become flustered and knock over vases, to the delight of gossips.

  Her voice drew him from his thoughts. “Mr. Gregory and your mother have a particular fondness for one another.”

  He chuckled softly. “Oh, no, Mr. Gregory is a longtime friend.”

  “He doesn’t want simple friendship, and I don’t believe Duchess does, either.”

  “Why do you say that?” Suttenberg eyed her.

  “They converse like old friends, but every once in a while, they cast longing glances at one another. And once he looked at her with such admiration that I almost teared up. He seems a fine gentleman.”

  Odd, but Mother had never mentioned Mr. Gregory in that particular way. He’d have to ask her about it later. His mother remarrying? He turned that over in his mind. Honestly, he was surprised she hadn’t yet. He’d been five when his father died, and the duchess had been alone ever since. She was still an attractive woman, only in her early fifties, and had a great deal to offer a husband—wit, intelligence, kindness. Certainly she ought to remarry if she had that desire. Suttenberg agreed with Hannah Palmer; Gregory was a fine gentleman.

  Miss Palmer’s voice broke in to his thoughts. “Your mother is a gracious lady.”

  He studied her face. “Do you think so?”

  “I do. She wasn’t condescending at my awkwardness when you presented me to her, nor when I acted like a clumsy fool. She’s inordinately fond of you.”

  He smiled. “She is, fortunately. I hope to stay in her good graces.”

  “Surely you’re not worried. Why, with such a paragon of a son, she must be very proud.” She smiled as if enjoying a private joke.

  He shook his head. “I’m no paragon, as you well know.”

  A small chestnut mare trotted to him, nodding her head and nickering a greeting. He smiled affectionately at the old horse. She stretched her neck out over the fence. Miss Palmer stiffened but didn’t step away.

  “Good morning, Daydream.” He rubbed the mare’s nose and ran his hands along her neck.

  “Are your mother’s expectations so high?” Hannah’s nonjudgmental compassion as she gazed at him had an odd effect on his tongue.

  “I became the Duke of Suttenberg at the age of five.”

  She nodded and recited, “Bennett Arthur Partridge, the Fifteenth Duke of Suttenberg.” She smiled. “The current book of Peerage is expected reading for any young lady who will have a Season in London.” She sobered and touched his sleeve. “What happened then?”

  “My mother explained that my rank carried a great deal of responsibility. Not only must I manage my lands, but I must be an example of a peer of the realm to everyone who would watch me. My father had a reputation for excellence, and she wanted me to follow his legacy.”

  “A heavy load for a five-year-old.” She regarded him somberly.

  He rested one arm on top of the fence while the other continued rubbing Daydream, who nuzzled him and wuffled in his ear. “She told me the time for catching frogs and learning my letters in the nursery was over. I went to school the next day and spent the rest of my life trying to live up to family ideals.”

  She covered his hand with hers. Warmth soaked in from the contact all the way to his heart. For a mad instant, he almost tore off their gloves and touched her hand-to-hand. Cheek-to-cheek. Lip-to-lip.

  Softly, Hannah asked, “What would happen, do you think, if you failed to live up to that ideal?”

  “I’d disappoint her. That alone would be unbearable. And I’d tarnish the family reputation. I’d let down everyone who relies on me to do it right—my younger brother and sister, their children. I’d be a failure.”

  “Don’t you think having weakness is a natural part of being human?”

  “I’m a duke. I’m not allowed to have weaknesses.”

  “Everyone has weaknesses.” The softness in her eyes became almost too difficult to bear.

  He let out a long, slow breath and revealed one of his greatest fears. “I do have a terrible weakness. My grandfather on my mother’s side was Italian—hot-blooded and passionate. He dueled a dozen men, killing over half of them, and had a dozen lovers, leaving illegitimate children scattered over four countries. In the end, his temper proved his undoing. He started a fight, and his opponent killed him. If I let go of my self-control, I’ll be just like him—an angry libertine.”

  She squeezed his hand. “You aren’t like that. You won’t become that, not even if you let go once in a while.”

  “I might. Look how I behaved at the ball. I kissed you, someone I’d only just met, and I drew a sword.”

  “Well, then, clearly the answer is to avoid masques. And pirates.” A teasing light entered her soft brown eyes.

  He
shook his head, uncomfortably aware of how much he’d confided in this sweet girl. “Most of my friends don’t know anything I told you.”

  “Do you have the wrong friends, then? Or do you have an aversion to allowing them to see the real man inside?”

  He hesitated. “I’m not certain.”

  “I’ll keep your confidence,” she said gravely.

  He gazed at the lovely lady next to him. How could he could have been so foolish as to have overlooked her before? At first he’d been blinded by his quick assessment that she was too young and shy and awkward. He’d almost missed the joy of knowing her, of knowing what it was like to reveal his true self to someone. Hannah Palmer was artless, with no hidden agenda, no practiced flirtatiousness, no carefully cultivated games.

  She allowed him to be his true self in her presence. He hadn’t spoken to anyone with such candor in longer than he could remember. The idea of spending all his days with such an enchanting, genuine lady left him almost desperate with longing.

  Daydream bumped Hannah with her nose. The girl jerked back.

  “She won’t hurt you,” Suttenberg said soothingly. “This is Daydream. She’s very gentle.” He held out a hand to Hannah. “Come meet her. She’s the first horse I learned to ride.”

  After a brief hesitation, Hannah placed her hand in his and let him lead her back to the fence. Her trust in him made him want to puff out his chest. He put Hanna’s palm under Daydream’s nose to get her scent. After the chestnut snuffled, Suttenberg put Hannah’s small hand on the horse’s neck and guided her to stroke it.

  “Look at her ears,” he murmured. “And see how she holds so still? She likes you.”

  Hannah’s mouth curved in a tentative smile. “I want to touch her.” She removed her glove and put her bare hand on the horse’s neck.

  “She’s softest right between the nostrils.” He petted the area to demonstrate.

  Hannah followed his lead, her lips curving upward in delight. “She’s just like velvet.”