The Wooing of Miss Masters

by Susan Carroll

  "I can scarce say. I have been interrupted too many times. But it was wrong of me to be reading when I should be in the ballroom."

  "Why? I am sure you are feeling no more eager to return to that tedious affair than I am."

  "Tedious? But if you feel that way . . ." She trailed off, knowing it was none of her concern, but she couldn't refrain from asking, "Why did you ever have the blasted thing?'

  "Be hanged if I know." He grimaced. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. I fear that as a duke, I am not blessed with your freedom and independence. I have certain obligations, even though I, too, am a bachelor and fiercely proud of it."

  "Yes, I had forgotten. Your legendary search for a bride." Audra could not prevent a smile escaping.

  "Do you find it that amusing? I admit I have a face and temper like the devil, but I can surely find some wench who will have me."

  "Likely too many of them. I only smiled because it all seems so silly—Er, that is, I mean . . ." Audra floundered, trying to recover from her want of tact, but Raeburn would have none of it.

  "Come, Miss Masters. You have never hesitated to insult me before. Why turn shy now?"

  Very well. He had asked for it. She crossed her arms, her voice laced with scorn. "Did you really believe you were going to find a wife tonight in that ballroom? That all it would take was one look, one glance, and you would immediately know which lady to choose? Forgive me, but you do not seem the sort to be prone to such romantic nonsense."

  "I am not, any more than you are. The idea that one would come across one special person that one would find so intriguing . . . Well, of course, it is absurd. His eyes locked with hers. "And yet," he added softly. "One must begin somewhere."

  "I suppose one must," Audra replied, surprised to hear her own voice sound so breathless. She had never realized it before, but it could be rather dangerous to stare too long into any man's eyes, especially eyes possessed of such fierce, dark passion as Raeburn's. She felt oddly lightheaded and was quick to lower her gaze.

  "It will not aid Your Grace in your search to linger here. You should get back to the ballroom. After all, you are the host."

  "Justly rebuked, Miss Masters." He held out his hand to her. "Very well. Come on then."

  Audra stared in dismay at those long, tanned fingers, their latent strength quite evident. "Oh, I had rather hoped you might permit me to remain—"

  "The devil I will. I fear I am not that generous, madam." He took the book from her and dropped it on the side table. Seizing her by the hand, he tugged her to her feet. "If I must suffer through this cursed ball, so must you."

  Audra opened her lips to protest, but what could she say? After all, it was his castle. She permitted him to lead her from the library with great reluctance. But as they started down the hallway, she did complain.

  "There is no need to keep such a grip upon my arm, sir. It is not as if I were planning to run away."

  "Truly? It seems to me you have a very bad habit of doing so, Miss Masters. I wouldn't want to lose you again. I believe we will be just in time to take our places in the next set forming."

  "You may do so, but I am not engaged to stand up with anyone."

  "I didn't think you were or you could hardly be going to dance with me."

  "What!" Audra came to an abrupt halt beneath the arch that led back into the ballroom, her dismay only second to her astonishment. Was His Grace often given to these mad starts? "You cannot mean. . .That is I am honored, but I don't dance, Your Grace."

  "Neither do I," the duke said pleasantly. "So this should prove a most interesting exercise."

  Maintaining a firm grip upon her arm, he propelled her inexorably forward. Audra could already sense the eyes fixing in her direction, heads nodding together, the whispers behind fans. She sought to quell a hot blush.

  "Your Grace, I fear I have not made myself clear. I don't want to dance."

  But with his customary high-handedness, he led her to the head of the set. Too proud to plead with him, to confess her own clumsiness or even how sore her feet already were, Audra held her head up high. When he finally released her arm, she could do nothing but remain. To flee from his side would only cause the whispers to increase.

  As the music began, Raeburn swept her a bow full of mocking challenge. Audra sank into a furious curtsy, hissing between her teeth. "You are going to be very sorry for this, Your Grace."

  His lips twitched in infuriating fashion. He was still smiling when they came together in the movement of the dance. Audra smiled sweetly back at him and then stomped on his foot. His smirk vanished in an astonished gasp. "You vixen! You did that a-purpose."

  As they separated, Audra skirted round him, managing to deliver a swift kick to his shin.

  Raeburn choked back an oath, his brows crashing together. "I'm warning you, madam . . ." But the rest of his threat was lost as the steps of the dance took them apart.

  When they next came back together, she caught him square on the ankle.

  "Damnation!" Raeburn growled. His black scowl would have daunted anyone else, but Audra was far too caught up in her own anger. In fact, she could never recall taking such a militant pleasure in any dance. She paraded down the line, planning her next assault.

  Approaching Raeburn again, she prepared to aim for his instep. But his eyes narrowed, Raeburn struck first, treading upon her toes. Audra stifled a yelp. Simmering with indignation, she readied for the next skirmish, a sharp kick that caused him to falter.

  His thunderous expression boded ill for her, and Audra almost knew a craven impulse to retreat. But there was no help for it. The perfidious patterns of the dance brought her back to his side where he tromped upon her other foot.

  Audra bit her lip to keep from swearing. Her poor toes, already pinched tight by the slippers, were in no condition to tolerate more of Raeburn's abuse. Much as she hated being the first to cry enough, she became uncomfortably aware of the shocked stares of the other dancers in their set.

  When next she came face-to-face with Raeburn, she curbed her temper, settling for a glower rather than a blow.

  "You, sir, are no gentleman," she snapped.

  "And you, madam, are assuredly no lady."

  After which exchange of insults, they finished out the dance in grim silence, more after the manner of a pair of duelists, circling each other with wary respect.

  As soon as the last notes of the dance sounded, Audra made the briefest of curtsies, preparing to stalk away as fast as her throbbing feet would let her. But Raeburn linked his arm roughly through hers.

  "It is my habit, madam, to escort my partner from the floor, no matter how ill-used I have been."

  Audra longed to shake him off, but she feared she had already created enough of a scene for one evening. Clenching her teeth, she permitted Raeburn to lead her to the side of the ballroom.

  "If you feel ill-used, it was entirely your own doing," she said. "I told you I didn't want to stand up with you. I can make enough of a spectacle of myself without your assistance."

  "I don't doubt it, especially if you treat an offer to dance as if a man had offered you an insult."

  "Offer! More like demand. And it was an insult. You only did it to torment me."

  "Can you imagine no other reason?"

  "No!"

  Having guided her to the side of the ballroom, he subjected her to a hard stare. "It might have occurred to you that . . . Never mind." His jaw tightened. "Your servant, madam."

  Sweeping her a curt bow, he stalked away. Still seething, Audra watched him go, but her anger was tempered by the uncomfortable feeling that she had somehow wronged him. Even if he had forced her to dance, she had behaved in an abominably unladylike fashion, even for the eccentric Miss Audra Leigh Masters. Perhaps she even owed the duke an apology. But at least, he would have the good sense never to demand that she dance with him again.

  That thought, however, did not offer her the satisfaction that it should have. Rather it only seemed to add to her
misery, especially when the strains of a waltz filled the room and she observed Raeburn leading another lady onto the floor.

  She was a dark-haired beauty, willowy, graceful, a diamond of the first water. But the way the creature simpered, looking up at Raeburn with such toad-eating deference, was enough to turn Audra's stomach. Unable to endure watching anymore, Audra limped off to find an obscure corner of the room.

  Locating a small gilt settee half-hidden by a spray of flowers, Audra sank down upon the cushion. She never carried anything so frippery as a fan, but for once she wished she had one of the blasted things. The room seemed unbearably warm, but whether from her recent exercise or her bout of temper, Audra could not have said.

  Bending over to massage the toe of her slipper, she realized she had the devil of a blister forming. Audra would have been content to pass the rest of the evening in quiet obscurity. But she had completely forgotten her initial reason for escaping to the library—that is until Sir Ralph suddenly loomed above her to remind her.

  The baronet looked for all the world like a sulky red-haired troll. "B'gawd, Miss Masters," he accused. "You forgot our dance."

  Audra thought if she heard the word "dance" upon a man's lips one more time tonight, she would have a fit of apoplexy. Stretching out one slipper, wriggling her sore foot, she said, "You must hold me excused, sir. I fear I will be doing no more dancing tonight."

  "I shouldn't wonder. I watched you dancing with Raeburn." Sir Ralph brayed a laugh. "The squire and I got up a wager of which you would be the first to lame the other."

  "Wonderful," Audra muttered. "I am pleased to have provided you with such diversion, sir."

  She winced when Sir Ralph plunked himself beside her with such force the entire settee seemed to tremble. "Well, it doesn't matter a ha'penny about the dance. I'd far rather sit and talk."

  Audra nearly groaned aloud, wishing she had claimed sore ears instead of feet. At any other time, she could have dealt with Sir Ralph, but she was feeling far too wearied from her quarrel with Raeburn. Naturally the baronet's conversation settled upon one thing: his fox hunting.

  Audra thought of telling him once and for all that she found his notion of sport cruel and disgusting, but she knew it would be a waste of breath. The fool would never comprehend her feelings. So she listened in dour silence while Entwhistle lamented the dearth of foxes.

  "Not many new cubs. It's going to be a bad year," Sir Ralph said. "Which is why you must no longer ever speak to Mr. Cecil. He's a vulpicide."

  "A vulpicide?"

  "He shot a vixen raiding his henhouse."

  "But you kill foxes all the time," Audra protested.

  "That's different. I do it proper, hunting them with hounds. Cornered a feisty cub just the other morning, but some of my young dogs aren't so well trained. Ratterer and Bellman tore that fox to shreds before I could even claim the pads and mask.”

  When Entwhistle went on to describe the scene in more vivid detail, Audra felt herself go pale. By the time he reached the part about what remained of the cub's blood-soaked brush, Audra truly thought she was going to be ill.

  Rescue came from an unexpected quarter, an acid voice interrupting Sir Ralph's boisterous flow of words.

  "I don't believe Miss Masters cares for your hunt stories, Entwhistle."

  Both Audra and the baronet glanced round to discover the Duke of Raeburn leaning up against the back of the settee. How long he had stood there listening, Audra had no idea. She despised herself for the way her heart leaped, how foolishly glad she felt to see him.

  As for Sir Ralph, although he rose respectfully to his feet, he thrust out his lower lip. "Pish, Miss Masters takes a keen interest in the sport, which is more than can be said for some, Your Grace. What's this foul rumor I've been hearing tonight that you may start forbidding my hunt to cross your land?"

  "It is no rumor, but a fact, sir," Raeburn said levelly. "Besides the fact you ruin my tenant's crops, I heard young Worthington near snapped his neck jumping one of my hedges the other day. If anyone is carted off on a hurdle, it's not going to be on my estate."

  "Damme! I've never heard such an attitude. It is positively un-English."

  When Raeburn stiffened, the baronet managed to lower his voice, assuming a more placating tone. "Not that I don't understand. Your brother's unfortunate accident and all that. But a man can cut his stick a hundred other ways than hunting, and it happened so many years ago."

  Audra thought she detected a flash of pain in Raeburn's eyes, quickly shuttered away. But all he said was, "I believe you are keeping my sister waiting, Entwhistle. She is expecting to dance with you."

  Though clearly prepared to argue the hunt question all night, Raeburn's words took Sir Ralph aback.

  "The Lady Augusta?" The baronet's eyes rounded. "Is she, then? B'gawd, I wouldn't want to offend my hostess." Looking immensely flattered, Sir Ralph bustled off.

  Audra angled a reproachful glance at the duke. "What an unhandsome thing to have done to your sister."

  "Wasn't it, though?" Raeburn's grim expression relaxed into the barest hint of a smile. "It scarce signifies, for if I know Gus, she has already promised every dance by now."

  The mischief in those dark eyes invited her to smile back at him. It was difficult to recollect that she and Raeburn were supposed to be at odds with each other.

  He folded his arms, staring down at her. "Well, aren't you even going to thank me?"

  "For what?"

  "Rescuing you from the company of that red¬headed oaf."

  "I am quite capable of dealing with Sir Ralph myself." Audra stood, preparing to stalk away. But her foot twisted just enough to rub the slipper against her blister. She sank back down, sucking in her breath between her teeth.

  "What the deuce is amiss?" Raeburn asked. "Are you hurt?"

  "No, it is nothing. Only my blasted foot."

  He settled beside her on the settee, his brow furrowing with concern. "I'm sorry. It is my fault for being so rough. Do you have a sprain or only a bruise?"

  Audra shrank away, whisking her slippers further beneath the hem of her gown. "There is no need for you to be so concerned. My injury is none of your doing. It is only these dratted shoes. They have been paining me all evening. They are about two sizes too small."

  "Of all the confounded folly. Why the blazes didn't you have them made to fit?"

  Audra's cheeks stung with mortified pride. She blurted out, "Because it is bad enough being so tall, without having my feet look so large as well.”

  There! Now that she had made confession of this one small but foolish vanity, perhaps he would leave her in peace. Though he looked a little astonished, he said, "There's no disgrace in being tall, and I prefer women to have large feet rather than mince about."

  "You are utterly ridiculous, sir." But a laugh escaped Audra in spite of herself.

  Raeburn nodded with approval. "I wondered if I would ever be able to persuade you to smile at me again."

  Audra tried to resume her poker expression, but it was hopeless, especially when Raeburn continued, "Whether your afflicted foot is my fault or not, I do owe you an apology for what I did earlier, forcing you to dance. My sister, Gus, will tell you I do have a tendency to be a bit of a bully."

  "Pray don't apologize, at least not for tramping my toes. I fear I asked for that. As my sister would tell you, I have an infernally bad temper."

  "You were right to be angry. I was being selfish, consulting only my own feelings and not yours. Contrary to what you might believe, Miss Masters, I didn't ask you to dance with me just to enrage you. I did so because I wanted to stand up with you more than any other lady present."

  "Oh," was all Audra could think of to say. Her reply seemed foolishly inadequate even to her. "I can't imagine why Your Grace would—I am sure there are many more charming women present."

  "Aye, I have near been charmed to death tonight. I've never been so flattered, so fawned over. 'Yes, Your Grace. No, Your Grace. The sun is blue if you
say so, Your Grace.' I swear the lot of these females would court the devil himself, if the title of duchess came with it."

  "Poor man! I could kick you again if it would make you feel better." But although her tone was flippant, Audra did not want him to think her wholly unsympathetic. "I do understand," she said. "I was pestered nigh to madness with unwanted suitors my first Season. All because of my fortune, you know."

  "Ten thousand pounds a year," Raeburn agreed with a quizzing smile.

  Although she blushed to be reminded of her vulgar boast, Audra continued, "But since there was no reason I had to be married, I eventually managed to drive everyone away."

  "Rather like the princess in that old story, living in her castle behind her wall of thorns."

  "Yes, if you like. Only I would never be caught napping. If there were any prince fool enough to scale my wall, I would greet him with an unsheathed sword."

  "Would you? I give you fair warning, Miss Masters. I am a fair hand with a blade."

  Audra started, not knowing how to interpret such a remark. If it had been anybody else but Raeburn, she almost might have supposed him to be flirting with her. A little daunted, she realized how close he sat. Of course the settee was rather small.

  Sitting rigidly upright, she gave a nervous cough to clear her throat. "This is getting to be a very silly conversation. Perhaps we had best talk of something else. Why don't you tell me about your travels abroad?" she suggested desperately.

  "My dear Miss Masters, you are a glutton for punishment. Hasn't this ball provided you with boredom enough?"

  "No, truly, I would not find it boring at all. That is one of the drawbacks to being a spinster," she said wistfully. "One can never go anywhere, unless one drags along some dreadful companion. Certainly not anywhere exciting like Greece or Rome."

  "But surely you could visit Italy anytime you chose. Doesn't your mother live—" Raeburn broke off, looking mighty uncomfortable as Audra found people often did when mentioning Lady Arabella.

  "You know my mother?" she asked.

  "Well, er . . . yes, I did meet her just once during the course of my travels." It was an innocuous enough statement, but it was what His Grace was not saying that seemed to speak volumes.