7
The next day Luke stood in the entry of the Earl of Darling’s home, waiting for the butler. He’d offered his card, leaving it on the tray along with several others, and the man had disappeared to make Luke’s presence known.
Early afternoon sun streamed in through the windows, casting happy patches along the wall. He grinned to see them.
He’d been doing that a lot this morning. Smiling.
When was the last time he’d been this happy? Certainly not since his accident. But even before…
His life had been filled with duties and obligations. Fun too, of course. He’d enjoyed his studies and his friends, but the past few days had been different.
He thought back to Crest’s words once again. The man had been right. Opposites did attract. The interesting thing about Tabetha—well, one of many—was that she cast everything in a new light. From the way he viewed society to the way he looked at himself.
She added a fresh perspective that made his world brighter.
He shifted on his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. Glancing about the open foyer he realized that he was humming as he waited. Him. Humming.
With a shake of his head, he forced himself to stop.
He was acting like a… He blinked. He was behaving like a lovesick fool.
Which was ridiculous.
He wasn’t in love.
Was he?
Yes, he’d made the decision to get to know Tabetha. Potentially court her. Possibly marry her.
Which meant he’d developed a certain affection for her, certainly. She viewed the world with less measured goals and more heart, a position he could use in his life. And yes, they shared an interest for horse flesh.
While he hadn’t ridden since his injury, he had goals to do so.
He’d watched Tabetha for several minutes the day before and even sidesaddle, she’d been impressively skilled. If anyone might prod him to climbing back on a horse, it was her.
And even if he didn’t return to riding, watching her had filled him with the same exhilaration he’d experienced while riding.
His heart had pumped wildly, blood coursing through his veins as the wind had whipped at her skirts and hair, the animal eating up the ground with a fluid motion that made the rider and animal appear as one.
And that had been after he’d almost kissed her.
Because even before he’d seen her ride, he’d nearly been overwhelmed by desire to press his lips to hers.
Was he falling in love?
He couldn’t say. He’d never experienced the emotion before. Scrubbing the back of his neck, he watched the light dancing on the walls again. It didn’t matter today. Well, it mattered a great deal, but he did not need to come to any definitive conclusion today. It was enough that he was here, spending more time with Tabetha.
That was the important part. The rest would be made clear in time.
The butler finally returned and clearing his throat, gestured toward the stairs. “The lady will see you now, Your Grace. Please follow me to the sitting room.”
He gave a nod of understanding as he fell in line behind the stone-faced butler.
They made their way up the wide marble staircase and then down a long mahogany paneled hall toward the back of the house. At the very end of the hall, a door stood open, and voices filtered out.
At first it was the chatter of women, high and happy. But then a deep baritone interrupted the higher pitch of the ladies. Which made sense. Lord Darling looked like the sort of man who had a deep voice.
But then another male voice and another punctuated the conversation from within the room.
Luke’s chin pulled back. How many men had arrived for calling hours?
But then he relaxed, his deep exhale releasing the tension in his chest. Tabetha had two other sisters who had also been launched in society. Perhaps they’d had callers as well.
The moment he entered the music room, however, he realized how wrong he’d been. Yes, Lady Clarissa sat next to Tabetha, with Lady Mariah and Lady Darling on the adjacent settee. But five men completed the circle and all of them were staring at a blushing Tabetha. Her gaze cast down even as her lips curled up at the corners.
She stole his breath to see her so beautifully arrayed even as a niggle of jealousy coursed through him. Because a quick sweep of the other men confirmed that he wasn’t the only man in this room enamored with her.
One of them was spouting what Luke would consider to be painful poetry about the blush of a rose. When the poem finally drew to an end, the butler stepped forward.
“May I present the Duke of Walton,” the butler said, giving a short bow.
The color drained from Tabetha’s face, and her smile disappeared from her lips. He’d always considered her eyes to be a warm color but as they met his, he had to confess that the blue of her irises could only be described as...icy.
She stood, her hands clasping as she dipped down into a curtsy. “Your Grace,” she murmured, her tone matching her look. Cold.
“Lady Tabetha,” he replied, giving a short bow, as confusion surely marked his own features.
Several throats cleared as an awkward silence fell about the room.
What was all this tension about? He looked about the room, searching for answers as his gaze fell to her sister, Lady Mariah, who quickly looked away.
Evelyn wasn’t much better, her smile thin and forced.
Only Lady Clarissa gave him a reasonably warm greeting. She stepped forward, away from Tabetha, her seat quickly swallowed up by one of the suitors. “Your Grace. How nice to see you again so soon.”
He inclined his head. “And you.”
“We appreciated your company yesterday in the park.”
Had they?
He’d thought it had been a wonderful walk as well, but looking at Tabetha now, he would have assumed he’d made some large social gaff.
Tabetha’s eyes never strayed from the man next to her, avoiding Luke’s with a determination that was almost impressive. “And I yours,” he said, looking at Clarissa. “It was a beautiful day and I enjoyed both the company and the activity. Do you ride as well as your sister does?”
Clarissa’s brows rose. “No. But how many can say that they ride like she does?”
That made a ghost of a smile grace his lips. He attempted to catch Tabetha’s gaze again, but she stared at a man he thought might be the Viscount of Tutley, who was telling a story about his latest fox hunt as though what he shared was the most interesting tale in the world. “Very true.”
Clarissa twisted her hands. “I’ve appreciated getting to know you.”
“And I you.” Now even his conversation with Clarissa had grown strained. Was she saying goodbye to him?
She let out a long sigh. “Thank you for your help.”
“Help?” he asked, his brows drawing together. What did that mean? His stomach turned over and he looked at Tabetha again. But this time he didn’t look away, his gaze attempting to catch hers. What was going on?
But she neither looked at him nor furnished any answers as she laughed loudly at a joke that another man told that began with the phrase, I see London...
Why was Tabetha ignoring him and laying favor on these complete buffoons?
He’d done as Crest had asked and given his attention to her, elevating her prospects. And now she had a room full of suitors because of his efforts. Of course, she didn’t know it had been a favor and her sudden disinterest made him feel...used.
As though now that she had other men, she didn’t want or need him any longer.
He took a half step forward. She’d spoken yesterday about wishing to confront society directly. About her frustration with the veils that seemed to shroud everyone’s behavior and here she was doing exactly that to him.
His shoulders straightened.
He’d prefer the more direct approach. She had herself to thank for that.
And so with another step, he bowed again. “Lady Tabetha,” his voi
ce silenced the other men in a moment.
Her chin lifted, her eyes growing wide. “Your Grace.”
What now?
Did he ask her in front of the entire group what troubled her and risk embarrassing them both? “Do you play the pianoforte?”
Her lips parted as she continued to stare at him. “Of course.”
“Would you play for us?” He reached out a hand to her, knowing she’d say yes. He had every intention of escorting her to the instrument that stood in the corner of the room, and then turn pages as she played. Perhaps there’d be an opportunity to talk quietly away from prying ears.
She hesitated for a moment before she slipped her fingers into his.
He let out a breath as he touched her, some of the tension leaving him to finally have her attention.
She rose even as her fingers trembled in his.
Was she nervous?
Confusion once again pulled his brows together. What had he missed?
“Your Grace,” a deep voice called from the doorway. The rough bite of the clipped words made Luke turn his head, even as he kept Tabetha’s hand in his own.
“Lord Darling. Good to see you.”
The man’s brow rested low over his eyes, his barrel chest puffed out. Rather than exchange niceties, the man gave him a menacing frown. “I’d like a word.”
Luke’s own brows drew up. Not many men dared address a duke with such direct contempt. He understood Tabetha a bit better in this moment. Her tendency to be direct appeared to be a familial trait. “Of course.” But he held Tabetha’s hand for a moment longer. He turned his head back to look at her and this time, her blue eyes didn’t look angry so much as hurt.
They crinkled at the corners, her lower lip giving the slightest tremble.
He hadn’t a clue what to say. What could have upset her so? And when and how could he ask?
He let go of her hand and she sank back down on the settee.
While he’d be unable to discover anything from Tabetha today, he had every intention of learning all that he could from her brother.
Lord Darling led him down the hall to his study. Moving around a massive desk, he invited Luke to sit.
“I’m sure you’re curious why I’ve asked you here.”
“I am,” he answered, glad that the man moved directly to the point.
“I know that Crest meant well,” Darling started.
Crest? Luke’s stomach gave an odd jolt as understanding began to dawn on him.
“But sincerely,” Darling leaned forward. “Your continued involvement with my sister, socially, will likely produce more harm than good.”
“My involvement…” If he wasn’t mistaken, he was being asked to quit Tabetha’s life. “Forgive my lack of decorum, but how can her involvement with me be doing harm...socially?”
Darling had the decency to wince. “Socially, she is thriving, thanks to you.” The man picked up a paperweight on his desk and began to fiddle with the object as he stared down at it. “I only meant that her social dealings with you are damaging her...personally.”
He sucked in a breath as he sat up straighter. “I don’t see how that could be possible.”
The earl ran a hand through his blond hair. “We know that Crest asked you to lay favor on her. It was a bold plan but…”
Blast.
Luke’s jaw tightened as he sat straighter, refusing to slump down in his chair. But humiliation was pulling at his shoulders. Did Tabetha now think that he’d only interacted with her out of obligation? “I can assure you, Lord Darling, that my interest in your sister is legitimate.”
Darling’s eyes widened.
Luke leaned forward. “Yesterday, Tabetha and I discussed her struggles with society. I will tell you what I told her, and sincerely meant. One can learn the manners, but a kind heart is something a person either has or she doesn’t. Whatever the reason I began to lay favor on your sister, I continue to do so because I find that I…” He hesitated, searching for the correct words. “I have a growing affection for her.”
Darling sat back in his chair, his brows finally up so that Luke could actually see the man’s eyes for the first time since they’d met. “You actually like her?”
Luke cocked his head, giving the man a long stare. “I couldn’t help but note that you and your wife seem to have opposing skills. In your estimation, does that make you a stronger couple?”
Understanding dawned in Darling’s eyes and he gave Luke a genuine smile. “I do.”
Luke gave a quick jerk of his chin. “Thank you,” he said, glad he and Darling understood each other. “I’m glad one of Tabetha’s family members understands my perspective.”
“Two,” Darling added, grabbing the round paperweight in his hand and tossing it in the air as though it weighed no more than a feather. “If I’m not mistaken.”
Luke wondered who his other supporter might be but then he remembered Clarissa’s kind words. “I see.”
“But the only person whose support really matters is Tabetha’s.”
That was a valid point and he found himself wincing. “I’ve ruined that, haven’t I?”
Darling shrugged. “I couldn’t say. But you might be able to ask her yourself. If you, perhaps, attended the dinner party happening at the Claremonts tomorrow evening.”
Excitement rippled through him. Was Darling giving him aid? A dinner party would be the perfect venue to steal a quiet conversation and explain. “Thank you.”
Darling sat forward. “I’m not going to say anything to Tabetha. I’ll allow you to explain.” Then his brows dropped again. “But tread kindly, Your Grace. Her feelings were…”
Luke gave a quick nod as he grimaced. He’d hurt her. Could he find the words to make it clear that he’d never intended to do so? Would she want to hear them?
She had to listen. Because…well, because he was afraid his heart was now part of the equation.
8
The air in the Claremonts’ drawing room was unbearably hot and stuffy. The conversation amongst the guests was dull, bordering on tedious.
But Tabetha was determined to enjoy herself. After all, the dinner party might have been boring her to tears, but at least it gave her a respite from thinking about a certain duke.
"Oh yes, I do enjoy needlework." Tabetha managed to utter this lie through a smile that was beginning to hurt her cheeks.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tabetha caught Clarissa’s look of wide-eyed disbelief. “I had no idea you’d become so proficient with a needle,” her imp of a sister murmured sweetly. “Why, last I recall, you’d pricked your own fingers more than the actual—”
“I should love to see your handiwork one day, Mrs. Claremont.” Tabetha spoke loudly over her youngest sister.
Fortunately, Mrs. Claremont was hard of hearing, and her smile had that wistful air of someone who wasn’t listening to a blessed word of this achingly tedious conversation.
“Will you excuse us? I believe our sister is calling,” Tabetha said as she steered Clarissa away from yet another stilted conversation.
The dinner itself promised to be even less stimulating as Tabetha would likely be seated next to one of the Claremont boys. They weren’t officially boys, of course. They were full-grown men—older than Darius, even. But there was something utterly boyish in their demeanor. Immature might have been going too far, but...not by much.
Tabetha winced at the memory of the limericks the eldest had insisted on telling during calling hours the day before. And his brother had been even worse with his horrid poetry.
“Where is that sister of ours?” Clarissa asked as they made a leisurely turn about the room, pretending to be engrossed in a discussion with Tabetha in order to avoid being dragged into conversation with the other guests. All the while, she cast furtive glances to find Mariah.
“Over there,” Tabetha said, nodding toward an alcove that was overrun with foliage.
“Hiding in the plants again,” Clarissa said with a little tsk. “W
e should have known.”
Tabetha sighed. “We really ought to do something to help her overcome her shyness.”
Clarissa’s answering hmmph had Tabetha turning to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Clarissa arched her brows. “It means Mariah isn’t the one I’m worried about. At least, not at this particular moment.”
Tabetha turned to stare straight ahead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Clarissa’s sigh was filled with exasperation. “Tabetha, you don’t have to pretend that nothing happened.”
Tabetha shrugged, feigning indifference. “Nothing did happen.”
“Mmhmm.” Clarissa managed to imbue the word with a heavy dose of doubt.
“It was a misunderstanding, that’s all,” Tabetha said. It wasn’t so much a lie as an understatement. Was it a misunderstanding? Yes. She’d clearly misunderstood his intentions from the very beginning.
Had that misunderstanding turned her world topsy-turvy and left her heart feeling cracked and fragile as though it might shatter in a strong breeze?
Also yes.
But she wasn’t disappointed. Oh no. Just...crushed. Heartbroken.
She swallowed down a surge of silly, mawkish tears. She barely knew the man. She had no business being so overwrought. Which was why tonight she was determined to enjoy herself.
She pasted another brilliant smile on her lips and held her chin high as she surveyed the room. There were no eligible young men here other than the Claremont boys. Everyone else was Mrs. Claremont’s age or older. Tabetha wondered if the dearth of young, eligible men was because everyone who was anyone was still at the Marquess of Arundel’s house party or if Mrs. Claremont hadn’t wanted competition for her boys.
Even as ill-suited to society as they were, any of the Earl of Darling’s sisters would be a good match for the Claremont sons. Sir Claremont was not a member of the peerage, though he was a baronet with a considerable fortune. But most important of all, Mrs. Claremont had been a friend to Evelyn’s mother, which was why the earl and his wife had accepted the invitation.
The Duke’s Darling Debutante Page 6
