The Infamous Duchess

by Sophie Barnes

  Viola’s heart began thumping more loudly. A series of hot little embers proceeded to dance across her skin as he took her in. When he reached for her hand and raised it to his lips, her body began to tremble with a need for added closeness, the likes of which she’d never experienced before.

  “Mesmerizing,” he murmured, his voice brushing her knuckles the second before his lips touched her gloved skin.

  Sparks shot up her arm and across her shoulders before diving straight down her middle. Viola’s bodice tightened and continued to do so as Mr. Lowell’s gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts. He dropped her hand and straightened his posture, and for several seconds Viola could not recall why she’d tried to avoid him earlier.

  Ah yes. The diamond of the first water.

  The reminder cooled her response to him most effectively. She raised her chin and met his gaze boldly. “Good evening, Mr. Lowell. I wasn’t aware you’d arrived yet.”

  He gave her an odd look before giving his attention to the rest of the group. “Have you tried the salmon bites with dill yet? They’re incredibly delicious.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such tiny meals before,” Coventry said. “It’s most ingenious really, since one can eat while continuing to stand about chatting.”

  “A necessity since I lack the space for a supper room large enough to accommodate everyone,” Viola said. “When I met with Florian’s chef to discuss our options, he said he’d craft tiny portions that could be consumed without the need for cutlery.”

  “I believe he’s French,” Mr. Lowell said. “They’re renowned for their innovative cuisine, are they not?”

  “I really have no idea,” Viola remarked.

  Mr. Lowell’s gaze deepened. “Please excuse us,” he said without taking his eyes off hers. And then, to her shock and dismay, he grabbed her hand and drew her away from her friends without saying another word.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Spiriting you away.” He pulled her along at a purposeful stride, through a doorway, down a corridor and into a vacant room. Shutting the door, he turned to her, and expelled a series of heavy breaths.

  Viola’s stomach started to twist itself into several knots when she saw the look in his eyes: stormy, desperate, half mad with need. He looked like a man who’d been starved for a month and was in dire need of finding a meal. It was unlike anything she’d ever witnessed before, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. So she just stood there saying nothing and waited for him to explain.

  He stared back at her in silence, until she thought he might not say a word. But then he raked his fingers through his hair, disturbing the neatly combed locks and causing a few to spill over his brow. He started to pace while muttering something she could not hear. Pausing, he seemed to consider what to do next before taking a step toward her. His jaw was tight, his eyes holding her captive with deep intensity.

  “Viola.” Her name was hoarsely spoken. It drifted between them like a prayer and a promise. His fingers touched her hand, slowly as if to test her reaction. When she failed to pull away, they wove between hers, binding them together.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice wasn’t nearly as strong as she’d hoped. It matched her weak knees and the butterflies soaring about in her belly.

  “Trying to understand.” His throat worked with rough little movements. “You saw me when you arrived, Viola, but rather than come to greet me, you turned away and then pretended not to know I was here.”

  “I believed you were fully occupied.” In spite of her effort to sound nonchalant, hardness curled around each word.

  Realization flashed in his eyes and the agitated expression he’d been wearing since entering this room was replaced by profound interest. He took a step closer—so close she could feel the warmth of his body against her own.

  “You saw me with the Earl of Hedgewick’s daughter, Lady Regina, and imagined the worst.” A smile pulled at the edge of his mouth and his eyes suddenly brightened. “You’re jealous.”

  “I most certainly am not.”

  Mr. Lowell, damn him, grinned. “You absolutely are. It’s evident the way your eyes narrowed when I mentioned her name.”

  Deciding she did not have time for this, what with guests to attend to, Viola took a step back, intent on pulling away and adding some distance between them before quitting his company. But the moment she tugged on her hand, he tightened his hold and pulled her flush up against him.

  A whoosh of air escaped her lungs when her softness made contact with his solid chest. Instinctively, her free hand rose to clasp at his shoulder in a desperate attempt to steady herself. A brief moment of surprise followed until she managed to come to terms with what had happened and the fact that she now found herself embraced by a strong wall of muscle.

  God help her.

  Somehow in the midst of it all, he’d released her hand and wound both arms around her, encasing her in his warmth and infusing her with his scent. Viola dared not move. Least of all when she felt the press of his palm against the small of her back. It slid slightly lower, and to her dismay she found that she did not want it to stop. Rather, she longed for him to explore her more fully, to touch her in ways she’d not wanted to be touched in years.

  “I want to make something abundantly clear,” he murmured close to her ear while his other hand traced a lazy path along the length of her spine. “You are the only woman I want, Viola. There is no other, no reason for you to worry I might have lost interest, for I can assure you that interest in you is the last thing I’m lacking.”

  She wanted to believe him. “How do I know you’re not toying with me?”

  He leaned back, and when he met her gaze, his expression was grave. “Because you’ve gotten to know me.” The words were spoken honestly, without any hint of pretense. “Search your heart, Viola, and ask yourself if you trust me.”

  She didn’t need long to consider. “I trust you completely.” The realization steadied her soul and quieted the riotous emotions she’d experienced earlier.

  His nostrils flared. “Since announcing my intention to wed, I’ve been visited by numerous parents hoping to secure a match for their daughters. Lord Hedgewick is no different. He insisted I keep Lady Regina company while he went to converse with a friend. As transparent as it was, I could hardly abandon the poor woman. She’s only recently made her debut.”

  “How anyone ever believed you to be a scoundrel is unfathomable.”

  “You did.”

  “That was before I got to know you.”

  “And now that you have?”

  She paused as if caught at the edge of a precipice. “I don’t know. I think I need time to untangle my emotions and figure out what I truly want.”

  He was quiet for a moment and then he nodded. “Take as long as you need, Viola. I’ll wait.”

  She swallowed, a little undone by his understanding. “I probably ought to get back to my guests.”

  “Very well.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and kissed her fondly. As if he had not just toppled the last of her barriers. He squeezed her shoulder, released her and added distance. The edge of his mouth lifted and he was suddenly smiling. “You are right. There’s a party for us to attend, and if you are not otherwise engaged, I would like to invite you to dance with me, Duchess.” He winked and Viola laughed, unsure of how he managed to ease her concerns with such seemingly little effort.

  “I would love that,” she said, a little surprised by how drastically her opinion of him had been changed in recent weeks and by how she had changed from a woman intent on avoiding his company to one who longed to share it.

  Perhaps it was because he did not push her or make demands or take her for granted. Instead he listened, inquired about her interests and shared his own with her. He offered help and support when they were needed without asking for anything in return, even after she’d said they could never be more than friends.

  Enjoying the familiar feel of
his arm against hers as he guided her back to the party, she decided that never was a really long time. Especially since she was already half in love with the rogue who’d revealed himself to be quite the gentleman.

  Chapter 17

  With Viola’s arm tucked snugly against his side, Henry escorted her through the crowd and directly toward the musicians. For the purpose of the evening’s event, a salon adjoining the foyer had been allocated for dancing.

  “I would like to request a waltz,” he said, addressing one of the violinists when the previous set ended.

  Viola sucked in a breath and he turned to her with a smile, loving the shade of pink now blanketing her cheeks. His chest tightened with the awareness of how things had changed between them in the last half hour. Or perhaps they’d been gradually changing all along? Whatever the case, the important thing was they’d been honest with each other. Wasn’t that the most solid foundation for a lasting relationship? Truth and communication?

  The next tune started and he pushed this thought to the back of his mind while leading Viola onto the dance floor. It was time for him to show off the Duchess of Tremaine and for the world to see how incredible she was.

  “Nervous?” he asked.

  She gave him a wary look. “I do not know how to waltz.”

  He smiled to offer reassurance. “Don’t worry. It is fairly simple and I know the steps so you will be perfectly fine. Allow me to guide you.”

  Uncertainty creased her brow, but whereas a less courageous woman would have made an excuse and retreated, Viola stayed, determined to prove her worth to Society.

  All Henry could do was stare at her while his heart expanded with pride. She was brave and smart and utterly magnificent. And when she placed her hand in his and his palm settled firmly against her lower back, he felt like a prince upon whom the sun had decided to shine.

  “I’m going to step forward in a second,” he told her gently, “and you will step back. With your right foot.”

  She nodded, and then the musical prelude settled into a steady rhythm that compelled them to move. Keeping time with the beat, Henry guided Viola smoothly around the dance floor. Concentration was apparent in the sharpness of her eyes, but she caught on quickly and, to his surprise, avoided stepping on his toes.

  “You see,” he told her when they’d made two rotations of the dance floor. “It is not so difficult. Now try to relax a bit more. Your shoulders are very tense.”

  “I am trying, but it is easier said than done.”

  “Perhaps this will help?” He whirled her around and she suddenly laughed, the sound so pleasing he wished he could capture it in a box and listen to it whenever he wished.

  A hint of mischief touched her lips. “You are very good at this, Mr. Lowell, and I have to confess, it is a lot of fun.”

  “Will you not call me Henry?” It was, he realized, his most fervent wish at this point, more urgent than that of kissing her, though that was without a doubt a close second.

  Her smile stayed on her lips, her eyes locked with his. “Very well.”

  His breath caught and held. He pressed his fingertips into her back and savored the gasp that blew past her lips. He dipped his gaze, admiring the perfect shape of that dark pink flesh. “I need to hear you say it, Viola.” He knew he was probably pushing his luck, but it couldn’t be helped. He was even willing to beg. “Please.”

  Her tongue swept over her lower lip, moistening it. And then she spoke with soft deliberation. “Henry.”

  A shudder rolled through him, tightening his muscles and heating his skin with unparalleled need. Christ! He was going to play this marvelous moment over in his head later on when he got back home and climbed into bed. How many times had he imagined this? More than he could count, and yet reality was so much better.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, because he knew he had to say something before she discovered how ready he was to carry her out to the nearest carriage and take her somewhere—anywhere, really—where he could show her how desperate she made him.

  A blush rose to her cheeks and he wondered if she knew what he was thinking—the effect she had on him and if . . . if perhaps she might be more willing to consider such a path now than she had been before. He dared not ask. It was much too early for that, but having her say his name was a start.

  “Would you like some champagne?” he asked when the dance was over and he guided her back toward the foyer. He was not unaware of the interest with which most of those present watched them, nor was he surprised. After all, he had the most beautiful woman in the world on his arm.

  “Yes please,” she said, and he instantly flagged down a man with a tray full of glasses. Grabbing two, he handed one to her and took the other.

  “Henry!”

  Turning toward the familiar voice, he found his grandparents coming toward them. “I thought I saw you earlier,” his grandmother said, “but then you disappeared and . . .” Her gaze went to Viola. “Will you introduce us?”

  “Of course.” He moved a little to one side and said, “Viola Cartwright, Duchess of Tremaine, I would like for you to meet my grandparents, the Earl and Countess of Scranton.”

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintances,” Viola said.

  “Indeed, the pleasure is entirely ours,” Lord Scranton told her. “We’ve been admiring this new rejuvenation center of yours and are both quite eager to acquire memberships to it. As are many of our friends. I have to say, what you have created here is truly impressive. Takes me back to my visit to Turkey.”

  “Oh!” Viola’s eyes glowed. “Ottoman and Arabic design have been my inspiration, though I must confess I have only ever seen it illustrated in books.”

  “Well, you have recreated the atmosphere perfectly,” Lord Scranton said.

  Viola beamed. “Thank you.” She glanced at Henry. “Your grandson was actually tremendously helpful with that. He showed me the market in Woolwich where some of the pieces I used to decorate the center were purchased.”

  “I love that place,” Lady Scranton said. “One can find the most surprising things there.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Viola said with a knowing smile directed at Henry.

  His chest expanded with pure adoration. When he glanced at his grandmother, he saw that she’d noticed, because a flicker of amusement danced in the old woman’s eyes. She turned to Viola. “Would you like to take a turn of the room with me? I find the need to exercise my legs.”

  “Brilliant idea,” Lord Scranton said. “I have a few things I need to discuss with my grandson, and my wife is eager to see some of the other rooms. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to show them to her, Your Grace?”

  “I would be delighted,” Viola said. She looked at Henry, her eyes fully focused on him and nothing else. “I will see you a little bit later.” And then she was walking away with his grandmother, and Henry had to force his feet to remain where they were.

  “She’s different from how I imagined,” his grandfather said with a thoughtful touch to his voice.

  Henry turned to face him. “How so?”

  “Well . . . with all the gossip about her when she married Tremaine, I expected a cold and calculating sort of woman, but she doesn’t strike me as such at all.”

  “She’s anything but,” Henry said. “And people ought to realize that, considering she founded a hospital that doesn’t charge patients for care and the fact that she has always kept to herself. She certainly didn’t marry to improve her status or she would have been out in Society more.”

  Scranton sipped his champagne. “I agree.” He paused as if muddling something over. “She doesn’t really look the part either, does she?”

  Henry stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “Considering the other duchesses we know, like Huntley’s and Coventry’s wives, who are strikingly beautiful, the Duchess of Tremaine fades into the background a bit. I mean, she’s plainer than one would expect when considering her impressive title.”

  Shoulders straight
and posture stiff, Henry stared at Scranton while trying to decrease the pressure now building inside his head. He glanced across the room to where his parents were chatting with a group of friends and briefly considered excusing himself to go join them. “Viola is the most beautiful woman here.” It was so obvious to him he could not understand how anyone else might feel differently.

  Scranton’s eyebrows rose. “I meant no offense, my boy. It was just an observation.”

  “Well, in future, you will refrain from saying such things in my presence since it is completely untrue.”

  “Your defensiveness is most intriguing.” Scranton took another sip of his drink. “I daresay I’ve never seen you defend a woman so passionately before. Not once.”

  Henry’s chest rose and fell with the effort it took to draw breath. The comment had agitated him beyond reason and it had provoked him into showing his hand. “She matters to me.”

  “Duly noted.” A glimmer of amusement filled Scranton’s eyes before sliding into the background. “Word has it Tremaine is trying to stir up trouble for her. Considering your brother’s association with the lady as well as your own newly established . . . friendship with her, I presume you’re offering assistance?”

  Henry stared at Scranton. The old man was as sharp as a wasp’s stinger. “Of course.” He narrowed his gaze. “How did you hear of it?”

  “You know how it is. People see things. They talk. Nothing was certain until you just confirmed it.” Scranton took a sip of his drink. His mouth moved as if delighting in the champagne’s flavor before returning to a more serious line. “As your grandfather, I feel compelled to warn you.”

  “Really?”

  “Taking on a duke is no laughing matter, Henry.” Realizing he’d spoken too loud, Scranton glanced around before lowering his voice. “All he needs to do is make a compelling argument in his favor and discredit a woman Society’s already suspicious of. Tell me, who’s his barrister?”

  Henry stuck his free hand in his pocket while taking a fortifying swallow of his own drink. “Mr. Hayes.”