“Trouble,” he muttered and strode down into the garden before she could slip back into the crowd and disappear.
Two
Danielle Williams smiled distractedly at the story her great-aunt Harriett was telling the group of friends gathered around them in the garden. The one about how she’d accidentally pinched the bottom of—
“King George!” The crux of the story elicited a gasp of surprise, followed by laughter. Just as it always did. “I had no idea that the bottom I saw poking out from behind that tree was a royal one. Truly, doesn’t one bottom look like all the rest?”
“I’ve never thought so,” Dani mumbled against the rim of her champagne flute as she raised it to her lips.
Harriett slid her a chastising glance, although knowing Auntie, likely more for interrupting her story than for any kind of hint of impropriety.
“But oh, how high His Majesty jumped!” her aunt continued, undaunted. As always. “I was terrified—simply terrified, I tell you! I was only fourteen and convinced that I had just committed high treason.”
Although Dani had heard this same story dozens of times, the way Harriett told it always amused her. Thank goodness. After all, she needed something to distract her, because this evening was the first time she’d been to Charlton Place since Marcus Braddock had returned from the continent. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She was on edge with nervousness tonight when she’d once spent so much time here that she’d considered this place a second home.
“A pinch to a king’s bottom!” Harriett exclaimed. “Wars have been declared over less offending actions, I assure you.”
Dani had been prepared for the unease that fluttered in her belly tonight, yet the guilt that gnawed at her chest was as strong as ever…for not coming to see Claudia or spending time with Pippa, for not being able to tell Marcus what kindnesses Elise had done for others in the months before her death. But how could she face him without stirring up fresh grief for both of them?
No. Best to simply avoid him.
“Had it been a different kind of royal bottom—say, one of the royal dukes—I might not have panicked so. But it was a king’s bottom!”
She had a plan. Once Harriett finished her story, Dani would suddenly develop a headache and need to leave. She would give her best wishes to Claudia before slipping discreetly out the door and in the morning pen a note of apology to the duke for not wishing him happy birthday in person. She’d assure him that she’d looked for him at the party but had been unable to find him. A perfectly believable excuse given how many people were crammed into Charlton Place tonight. A complete crush! So many other people wanted their chance to speak to him that she most likely couldn’t get close to him even if she tried. Not that she’d try exactly, but—
“Good evening, Miss Williams.”
The deep voice behind her twined down her spine. Marcus Braddock. Drat it all.
So much for hiding. Her trembling fingers tightened around the champagne flute as she inhaled deeply and slowly faced him. She held out her gloved hand and lowered into a curtsy. “Your Grace.”
Taking her hand and bowing over it, he gave her a smile, one of those charming grins that she remembered so vividly. Those smiles had always taken her breath away, just as this one did now, even if it stopped short of his eyes.
“It’s good to have you and your aunt back at Charlton Place, Miss Williams.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t help but stare. He’d always been attractive and dashing, especially in his uniform, and like every one of Elise’s friends, she’d had a schoolgirl infatuation with him. And also like every one of his little sister’s friends, he’d paid her absolutely no mind whatsoever except to tolerate her for Elise’s sake.
Although he was just as handsome as she remembered, Marcus had certainly changed in other ways. The passing years had brought him into his prime, and the youthful boldness she remembered had been tempered by all he’d experienced during his time away, giving him a powerful presence that most men would never possess.
When he released her hand to greet the others, Dani continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. She simply couldn’t reconcile the brash and impetuous brother of her best friend with the compelling man now standing beside her, who had become one of the most important men in England.
Harriett leaned toward her and whispered, “Lower your hand, my dear.”
Heavens, her hand! It still hovered in midair where he’d released it. With embarrassment heating her cheeks, she dropped it to her side.
She turned away and gulped down the rest of her champagne, not daring to look at the general for fear he’d think her the same infatuated goose she’d been as a young girl. Or at Harriett, whose face surely shone with amusement at the prospect of Dani being smitten with England’s newest hero.
No. She was simply stunned to see all the changes that time and battle had wrought in him. That was all.
But then, Marcus Braddock had always been the most intense man she’d ever known, with brown eyes so dark as to be almost black, thick hair to match that curled at his collar, and a jaw that could have been sculpted from marble, like those Greek gods in Lord Elgin’s notorious statues that Parliament had just purchased. Broad-shouldered, tall and confident, commanding in every way…no wonder she’d not been surprised to learn of all his promotions gained from heroism on the battlefield or to read about his exploits in the papers. Only when she’d learned that the regent had granted him a dukedom alongside Wellington had she been surprised—not that he’d been offered the title but that he’d accepted it.
“You seem well, Duke.” Harriett had the audacity to look him up and down from behind the quizzing glass she wore on a chain around her neck. But her seven decades of age gave her the right to take liberties that few others would deign to claim, including so shamelessly scrutinizing the new duke when she should have done it surreptitiously. The way Dani was doing.
She gave him her own once-over while he was distracted with her aunt, deliberately taking him in from head to toe and finding him more impressive than ever. Despite her nervousness at seeing him again, a smile pulled at her lips. Only Marcus Braddock could appear imperial standing next to a papier-mâché statue of Julius Caesar.
Harriett finished her examination with an approving nod. “Life in London must be agreeing with you.”
His mouth twisted with amusement. “I feel as if I’ve just been put through a military inspection, Viscountess.”
Harriett let out a sound halfway between a humph and a chortle. “Better grow used to it, my boy! You were the grandson of a baron before, but now you’re a peer. A duke, no less. Privacy has just become a luxury you cannot afford.”
Although his expression didn’t alter, Dani felt a subtle change in him. A hardening. As if he’d already discovered for himself the truth behind her great-aunt’s warning.
“Lovely party.” Harriett waved a gloved hand to indicate the festivities, the rings on her fingers shining in the torchlight. “So kind of you to throw it and invite all of London.”
Dani blanched. Of all the things to say—
“Couldn’t invite the best without inviting the rest,” he countered as expertly as if the two were waging a tennis match.
Her eyes gleamed mischievously. “And which are which?”
“If you don’t know—”
“You’re part of the rest,” the viscountess finished, raising her champagne glass in a mock toast.
In reply, he winked at her.
Harriett laughed, tickled by their verbal sparring match. “You happened by at exactly the right moment. I was just telling everyone about the first time I met His Majesty. Have I ever told you—”
“If you’ll pardon me, Viscountess,” he interrupted politely to avoid being caught up in the story. Smart man. “I’d like to ask Miss Williams for the next dance.” He turned toward her. “Would you do me
the honor?”
Dani’s heart slammed against her ribs in dread. Being with him like this, surrounded by a crowd of friends and acquaintances where the conversation had to be polite and impersonal was one thing. But dancing was something completely different and far too close for comfort. There would be too many opportunities to be reminded of Elise’s death, for both of them. This was exactly what she’d hoped to avoid.
“My apologies, Your Grace.” Dani smiled tightly. “But I’m not dancing tonight.”
His expression darkened slightly. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being refused. “Not even with an old friend returned from the wars?”
Especially not him. “Not at all, I’m afraid.”
Something sparked in the dark depths of his eyes. A challenge? Had he realized that she’d been purposefully evading him? The butterflies in her belly molded one by one into a ball of lead as he smiled at her. “Surely you can make an exception.”
Dear heavens, why wouldn’t he let this go? “I haven’t been feeling myself lately, and a dance might tire—”
“Danielle,” Harriett chastised with a laughing smile. Beneath the surface, however, she was surely horrified that Dani was refusing not just an old family friend and the man of honor at tonight’s party but the most eligible man in the entire British empire. “One dance will not overtax you.”
Without giving her the chance to protest, he insisted, “If you grow fatigued, I promise to return you immediately to your aunt.” Marcus turned the full charms of his smile on her and held out his hand. “Shall we?”
Now she knew what foxes felt like when they were cornered by hounds. With no more excuses for why she couldn’t dance, the only way to avoid him now would be to flat-out cut him in front of his guests. That she would never do.
Marcus didn’t deserve that. Truly, he’d done nothing wrong, except remind her of Elise.
She grudgingly nodded her consent and allowed him to place her hand on his arm to lead her away.
Once they were out of earshot of the others, she lightly squeezed his arm to capture his attention. “While it’s kind of you to request a dance, it’s perfectly fine with me if we don’t take the floor. You shouldn’t feel obligated.”
“But I want to.” He slid her a sideways glance that rippled a warning through her as he led her toward the house. “I was very happy to see that you’d attended tonight.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Although she’d dearly tried to do just that. Swiftly changing the topic away from herself, she declared, “This party is a grand way to celebrate your return as a hero. I’m certain that Claudia and Pippa are thrilled to have you home.”
Regret surged through her as soon as the words left her lips, because her mention of them would surely only remind him of Elise’s absence. She hadn’t wanted to cause him more grief. After all, that was why she’d been avoiding him since his return. How could he not look at her without thinking of his sister’s death? God knew Dani was reminded of exactly that every time she thought of him.
“And you—” she rushed to add before he could reply, pivoting the conversation in a different direction. “You must have missed England.”
“I did.” The way he said that sounded faintly aggrieved. “But I’m not certain England missed me.”
“It did, a great deal.” Part of her had missed him a great deal as well.
He chuckled at that, as if it were a private joke. “Very little, I’m sure.”
Yet his amusement did nothing to calm her unease, which wasn’t helped at all by the hand he touched briefly to hers as it rested on his sleeve. The small gesture sent her heart somersaulting. But then, hadn’t he always made her nervous?
Yet he fascinated her, too. Something about him stirred her curiosity… Of course, she’d found his life as a soldier intriguing and had loved to hear Elise talk of his adventures. His sister had been so proud of him that she couldn’t stop bragging, and Dani had soaked up all the stories, especially those few she’d been fortunate enough to hear him tell himself during rare visits home before the fighting grew so fierce on the Peninsula that he’d not been able to leave Spain.
“But you’re right. I did miss my family, and I’m very happy to be back with them.” Another brief rest of his hand on hers, this time with a reassuring squeeze. “Although I suspect that they’re ready to toss me back over the Channel.”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
He lowered his mouth to her ear so he wouldn’t be overheard by the other guests. “Then why else would Claudia torture me with a party like this?”
“She’s not torturing you.”
“Oh?” As if offering irrefutable proof, he muttered, “A plaster model of Vesuvius is set to erupt at midnight.”
She laughed, her gloved hand going to her lips to stifle it. Amusement mixed with surprise. Being with him was quite enjoyable, when he didn’t remind her of how much she missed Elise.
“And you, Miss Williams? Are you ready to toss me back?”
Her laughter died against her fingertips at the way he asked that. Not an innocent question. Not at all a tease. A hardness lurked behind it that she couldn’t fathom.
“Of course not.” She smiled uneasily as he led her through the French doors and into the house toward the ballroom that had been created by opening the connecting doors between the salon, dining, and drawing rooms. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Most likely for the same reason you’ve been avoiding me.”
Guilt pierced her so sharply that she winced. This was what she’d feared during the past few months, why she hadn’t come to Charlton Place—coming face-to-face with his grief over his sister and her guilt over avoiding him. She wanted no part of this conversation!
She tried to slip away, but his hand closed over hers again, this time pinning her fingers to his sleeve and refusing to let her go. Aware of every pair of eyes in the room watching them and not wanting to create a scene, she walked on beside him until he finally stopped on the far side of the ballroom near the musicians.
She pounced on this chance to flee. It was time for her headache to arrive. “If you please, General—” Remembering herself, she corrected, “That is, Your Grace—”
“Has your absence been because of Elise’s death?”
She flinched beneath his bluntness. There would be no avoiding this exchange. This was the reason he’d refused to let her decline the dance.
“No,” she whispered, unable to speak any louder past the knot in her throat. “It’s been because of you.”
Three
Dani’s pulse stuttered when his eyes flared in genuine surprise, then iced over. He demanded in a low voice, “What do you mean because of me?”
“I was the one who sent news of her death to you.” She looked away across the dance floor as half of the couples moved off and more joined those who remained. “Why would you want to see me when I would only remind you of your loss?”
“You think me as weak as that?”
Never. Not him. “I think you…” How did she think of him, when he’d always paid her no more mind than a teacup? As his sister’s friend and ten years younger, she’d expected no less, even as she’d admired him from afar. But now, seeing the man he’d become, she simply had no idea what to make of him. “I think you loved Elise a great deal. Even now, just speaking to me like this—it’s making you grieve all over again.”
His shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly. But she noticed. Given the hours she’d spent staring at him as a girl, of course she had.
“How could I bring that pain back into your home?” Or Claudia’s? Or open herself again to fresh grieving? And sweet heavens, Pippa…did she deserve to be reminded that she’d lost her mother before she barely knew her, the same child who had already lost her father? “You’ve returned a hero, with a shining new future before you, and you’ve come back
into your family’s embrace. I didn’t want to ruin that by reminding you of what you’ve lost. That is why I stayed away.”
Tentatively, she placed her hand on his arm. She couldn’t resist giving him this small gesture of reassurance. He deserved so much more from her, but this was all she could offer.
“I hope you understand.” Her hand fell away to her side, yet her fingertips continued to tingle from the feel of the hard muscle beneath his jacket sleeve.
Not replying, he signaled to the master of ceremonies, who nodded and stepped onto the dais to speak to the lead musician. The violinist gestured toward the other musicians, setting them into a flurry of shuffling through their sheet music. Then they played the opening fanfare for the next dance—a waltz. Surprised murmurs went up through the crowd that the order of the dances had changed.
As Marcus gave her a low bow, Dani sank into an answering curtsy. But suspicion sparked in her belly for why he would order a waltz, of all dances, when he now knew why she didn’t want to be close to him.
The music settled into sweeping strains, and he led her into the waltz, taking them expertly into their steps.
A pinch of uneasiness tightened in her chest as she glided along with him, her full satin skirts swooshing around his legs whenever they turned. Every pair of eyes in the crowd that watched them dance past only served to remind her that life was now so very different for both of them than it had been before the wars, and so very complicated.
Yet knowing that didn’t stop her from enjoying the waltz. How could she not, when he led her so skillfully around the room? A natural-born athlete, he made every move seem effortless. Dancing with him proved just as wonderful as she’d always suspected it would be during all those evenings as a young miss when she’d watched him partner with other women beneath the glittering chandeliers at so many otherwise forgotten parties. Although nervous suspicion still lingered inside her, so did pleasure, helped along by the hard muscles in his legs that she tried unsuccessfully not to notice every time they accidentally brushed against hers in the tight turns they were forced to make on the crowded dance floor. She couldn’t help but follow yieldingly in his arms, couldn’t help but ignore the rest of the world spinning around them.
An Inconvenient Duke Page 2
