by Ava Stone
Her sister looked at her as though she’d sprouted a second nose. “The man is blackmailing you.”
But she didn’t think he was. In fact, she thought she’d misjudged that whole situation entirely. “He kissed me,” Hope said quickly and looked away from her sister’s perceptive eyes.
“I beg your pardon?” Grace whispered.
Still Hope couldn’t look at her. “It was different than Henry, but it was—” she sighed “—completely breathtaking.”
“Why in the world would you kiss that man?” Grace breathed out in apparent shock. “He called you a menace, let me remind you.”
He had done that, and Hope hadn’t really forgiven him for that. But she didn’t really think he was the villain she’d originally thought either. Not with the concern in his eyes, not with the gentleness in his touch. “I didn’t plan on it,” she protested. “But he did kiss me and he asked me to save him a waltz tonight and…”
“Once again, you have lost your mind.” Grace heaved a sigh. “I think you should make a vow to never even speak to a man named Kilworth for the rest of your days, let alone kiss one.”
Hope finally glanced over at her sister. “He’s as fond of Henry as you are.”
Grace’s green eyes widened a little in surprise at that. “I suppose that does say something for his character, then.”
Hope smacked her sister’s leg. “You’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead.”
“I said worse when he was alive,” Grace grumbled. Then she shook her head. “You don’t actually like him, do you? The new Lord Kilworth, I mean. I know how you felt about the late one.”
Hope shrugged slightly. “I’m not sure what I think. I think I like him a little. I did like his kiss, which surprised me. I never thought I’d like any kiss again for the rest of my life. And after Jamie—”
“For heaven’s sake!” Grace gasped. “You didn’t kiss Jamie!”
Kiss Jamie? What—? “No!” Hope shook her head. Why in the world would Grace think that? “That would be like kissing Quent or Braden?” What a completely nauseating thought.
Her sister looked slightly relieved. “Then what did you mean by ‘And after Jamie’?”
Oh good heavens! “If you’d let me finish my sentence, Grace Post!” Hope glared slightly at her sister. “After Jamie told me about his awful kiss, I didn’t think I’d ever experience a good kiss for the rest of my life.”
“Jamie had an awful kiss?” Grace echoed.
“Alice Humphreys. But neither of us are supposed to know that, so don’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”
Grace’s lips pursed like she’d been forced to eat a lemon. “I would hardly think she could muster up enough passion to kiss decently in the first place. What awful taste our cousin has.”
“Has Mr. Lacy kissed you?” Hope asked, though she rarely broached anything of a personal nature with Grace. They were just so different and Grace was so private.
Her sister looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Of course.”
“And was it a good kiss or a bad kiss?”
Grace shook her head. “It was perfectly pleasant.”
Perfectly pleasant sounded perfectly awful. “Pleasant?” Hope shook her head. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with a man who is just perfectly pleasant? Don’t you want your heart to soar and for passion to pound through your veins and—”
“I’m certain you’ve experienced enough passion for both of us,” Grace replied, sounding slightly clipped. “And Mr. Lacy is exactly want I want, Hope. He is kind and pleasant. Intelligent, honorable. What more could I want in a husband?”
Perhaps more than just perfectly pleasant. Perhaps just a taste of the adventure and passion Hope experienced with Henry, and perhaps…She shook her head. She really shouldn’t think about the new Lord Kilworth in the same way, even if his kiss had left her breathless.
“Did you say Lord Kilworth wanted you to save him a waltz tonight?”
Hope couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the dashing earl holding her in his arms. “Mmm.”
Her sister giggled. “Then you’ll look quite ridiculous being the only pair waltzing during the Hayward musicale.”
The Hayward musicale? “We have the St. Austell soiree tonight.”
But Grace shook her head. “We have the St. Austell soiree tomorrow night.”
Panic seized Hope’s heart. She’d told him the wrong event. Her mind had been so jumbled from his kiss, she was lucky she even knew her own name at the time. But she’d told him the wrong event for the evening, and there was no way to tell him of her error. It wasn’t as though she could send a note to Baxter House. Not one of her brother’s footmen would deliver such a missive to a bachelor residence.
“Drat!”
Chapter 8
Well, there was nothing quite like making a fool of one’s self, like showing up at the St. Austell’s for a soiree that wasn’t occurring. Thad felt like an idiot. Had she done that on purpose? He thought there was a very good chance she had. After all, Lady Hope had tried to switch places with her sister so she wouldn’t have to see him that afternoon. But…Well, she hadn’t been indifferent to his kiss. He knew that, and he’d thought she liked him some by the end of their ride in the park.
So why would she purposely make a fool out of him? Was she just perverse? She had involved herself with Henry. So that was a possibility.
Thad wasn’t quite sure what to think about the whole thing as he strode through the doors at Whites and handed his coat to the footman.
He spotted Robert Cole in the club, chatting with Albert Potsdon, and made a direct path for his friend. He gestured to a passing footman for a whisky and then dropped into one of the chairs across from Robert.
“Thought you were off to the St. Austell soiree,” Robert said, leaning back in his chair.
“That’s tomorrow,” Postsdon chimed in, though no one had asked him.
“Tomorrow?” Thad asked. “Are you certain?”
Potsdon nodded. “Lady St. Austell handed me the invitation herself. Old friend of the family.”
Huh. So was Hope Post scatterbrained or perverse? That was the question, wasn’t it? “Must’ve had my days mixed up,” Thad replied, though he felt Robert’s eyes on him and didn’t appreciate the scrutiny.
Luckily, the footman brought Thad his glass of whisky at that moment and he didn’t have to meet his friend’s gaze. Damn it all, he really shouldn’t have landed on the St. Austell’s front step on the wrong day and without having been invited. “Do you think you could secure me an invitation to her soiree tomorrow night?” He was an old friend of the family, after all.
Potsdon shrugged. “Consider it done.”
One less thing to worry about, then.
“Potsdon said you should speak with Berkswell,” Robert said after a moment.
“Oh, indeed!” Albert Potsdon’s eyes lit up. “Building new churches sounds like just the thing he’d support.”
Thad had already spoken with Berkswell and had the man’s support, but as Postdon was helping him get an invite to the St. Austells’, he simply nodded in response. “Thank you for the recommendation.”
“Of course, of course.” The portly man smiled. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.” He pushed out of his seat and started towards a small group of men not too far away.
Robert waited just long enough for Potsdon to be out of earshot before he asked, “Is she leading you on a wild goose chase?”
“I’m not sure.” There was no need to clarify who she was, not with Robert. “But if I catch her, I’m not sure that I’ll care.”
Robert’s eyes widened slightly at that. “And what will you do if you catch her.”
“I’m not sure that I know that either.” Though he’d definitely like to enjoy taking his time catching her, sparring with her, kissing her as often as he was able. If he had the time. He might not. He took a sip of his whisky and then asked, “Do you think there’s any truth to the rumors
about the Duke of Danby?”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that.” His friend laughed.
“Point taken,” Thad conceded as he heaved a sigh. “You’ve heard the rumors that Danby has dabbled in matchmaking, that he keeps a stack of special licenses, haven’t you?”
Robert nodded. “It doesn’t sound logical though. Doesn’t His Grace have better things to do?”
That was exactly what Thad thought too. But he probably should make certain. What if Danby already had a husband all picked out for Hope? Whoever the fellow was, he wouldn’t appreciate Thad sparring with or kissing his wife-to-be. “I should probably make certain in any event.”
“Sounds like the fastest way to get a bullseye on your back,” Robert remarked before taking a sip of his own drink.
But Thad knew Danby. He’d known him all his life. There was nothing to worry about from the duke. He wasn’t nearly as frightening as his reputation would suggest.
Upon his arrival at Whitton House, Thad was shown directly into Danby’s study. The old duke greeted him with a nod of his head. “Thaddeus, what a surprise. Do come in, do come in.” He gestured to one of the seats across his mahogany desk.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he replied, settling into one of the matching chairs. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Danby gestured dismissively at his desk. “It can all wait. More important things in life, don’t you agree?”
“Like the building of new churches.” Thad agreed with an incline of his head.
“Bah.” The duke shrugged. “Do you know I spent this morning bouncing one great-grandson on my knee while reading a story to a whole gaggle of my other great-grandchildren? Nothing is more important than that.”
Perhaps not to Danby, but England was still in desperate need of more churches. “Did you know in St. Marylebone there are seats enough for 8,000 bodies at church, but over 76,000 people? With the shift in population, sir—”
“Tell me you didn’t really seek me out to talk about churches, Thaddeus.”
Well, it was part of the reason. It’s what he’d spent the majority of the season talking about with powerful and influential peers. But the rest of his visit had something to do with an enchanting blonde he couldn’t stop thinking about even if she was leading him on a wild goose chase. “In all honesty, I did hear an interesting piece of on dit in regards to you, Your Grace.”
“From that blonde you were in the park with yesterday?” Danby’s blue eyes twinkled just a bit. “Tell me, what does my great-niece say?”
Damn the man for being too observant by half. Thad tugged slightly at his cravat. “Do you really have a stack of special licenses in your possession?”
A ghost of a smile tipped the edges of the duke’s lips. “She told you that, did she?”
Did that mean Danby did or did not have a stack of special licenses? “She said your great-nieces and nephews are falling all over themselves trying to secure matches before you make some sort of decree in regards to them.”
At that, the old man sat back in his chair and chuckled. “I should come to Town more often. I’ve had quite a lively time this season.”
Thad had never considered Danby maddening until now. Why was the duke being so evasive? “I am glad to hear it, sir, but…”
“Does Hope want to know if I’ve secured a match for her? Did she make you her errand boy?”
Hardly that. Thad snorted. “She doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, but…”
“But…?” Danby encouraged.
Damn it all. Best just to say it, right? “Well, Your Grace, I want to know if you’ve already picked out some fellow for her.”
“And what if I have?” The duke folded his arms across his chest.
“Well, sir, I—” Thad cleared his throat. What if Danby had already handpicked someone for Lady Hope? Thad’s days of sparring with and kissing the girl would be over. “Well, I’ve always trusted your judgment, of course, but—”
“I have never known you to beat around the bush, Thaddeus.”
“Well, I suppose I feel responsible for Lady Hope.”
“Responsible?”
Thad nodded. “My cousin did not give her the respect he should have, and if it wasn’t for Henry, she might be in a very different situation now. And if you do have some fellow picked out, I just want to make certain that—”
“That’s not what you wanted to ask me,” Danby interrupted him.
Thad’s mouth dropped open. “It’s not?”
And an all-knowing look settled on the duke’s face. “What do you mean that Hope doesn’t care one way or the other if I’ve picked someone for her?”
Thad released a breath. “She seems resigned to whatever her future holds. She says that with Henry gone, it doesn’t matter what happens to her and—”
“What a ridiculous thing to say. She has decades left to live, and your cousin was a degenerate.”
Thad’s thoughts exactly. “Be that as it may, if your plan was to spur your great-nieces and nephews into action, it has not worked in Lady Hope’s case.”
“So, then I should pick someone for the girl?”
He rather wished the man wouldn’t, but Danby did not appear as though he could be reasoned with today. “If the fellow is decent and will care for her, and—”
“Do you think I would pick a fellow who would treat her poorly?” Danby snapped.
Damn it all, the last thing he wanted to do was insult the duke. “No, of course not, Your Grace.”
“Perfect, then I have just the man for her.”
Thad’s stomach tightened. It was none of his concern, not really. So he’d never forget that kiss, so there wasn’t anything quite as enjoyable as sparring with Lady Hope, so he’d thought about her almost since the moment she crashed into his phaeton…She wasn’t his concern, but he still had to know. “Who?” he breathed out.
The duke smirked. “Well, you, of course. You do seem concerned about the girl. Who better than you?”
Him? The air whooshed from Thad’s lungs. “Well, Your Grace, I hardly know the lady, and her mother is not quite enthralled with me, and—”
“Her mother’s an idiot. I can handle my niece,” Danby grumbled. “Had she guided her daughters properly, Grace wouldn’t have the sharpest tongue in England, and Hope wouldn’t have involved herself with your cousin.” He released a sigh. “Patience is very nicely settled in Danby with my physician, the most docile and level-headed of the three of them, you can take my word for that.”
Docile. James Woodward had said Lady Hope was more docile this year. He hoped she wouldn’t become more docile than she was now. He rather liked her spirit, actually. In so many ways she was perfect. But he couldn’t really contemplate marrying her. Could he? He did enjoy kissing her and he supposed he could right the wrong Henry had caused if he married her, but that didn’t seem like the best reasons to marry a girl. He’d truly only wanted to make certain that she’d be matched with some decent fellow, if Danby was dead set on securing matches. He hadn’t meant to throw his hat into the ring, so to speak. “I’m not certain we’d suit,” he finally said.
“Afraid she’ll upturn all of your conveyances?” Danby’s smirk became a full-fledged smile.
“I beg your pardon?” Thad stammered. How in the world did Danby know about that?
“Do you really think there’s anything I don’t know or can’t find out?” The duke chuckled. “Do think about it, Thaddeus. If I don’t put your name on one my special licenses, it’ll be some other fellow. And do you really want me to do that? Name some fellow other than you?”
“I simply wanted to make certain she’d be cared for, I—”
“Then who better than you to make certain of that very thing?” the duke countered. “Besides you like the girl. I can tell you do. And she comes from a decent family. You’ll need a wife of your own someday. So why not Hope?”
“Well, I barely know her.” Even though he would like to know her better.
But that wasn’t why he’d come today. He hadn’t expected any of this. He’d expected Danby would laugh off the idea of special licenses and handpicked fiancés, but that hadn’t happened.
“All right.” Danby nodded his head. “Then I’ll go back to my original choice. No need to worry yourself further about the girl.”
His original choice? Who was his original choice? A cold sweat started to seep across Thad. “Your Grace, will you please tell me the fellow’s name?”
But the duke shook his head. “Hardly your concern, Thaddeus. And if the man refuses me, I’d rather not cast anymore disparagement on her than your cousin has already done by naming him and having his rejection known.”
Damn it all. Thad supposed that made sense, but he felt worse now than he did when he’d first stepped into the duke’s study. “Well, then, best of luck to you.” And to Hope. The very best of luck to her and whomever Danby thought to match her up with. What if the fellow was horrible? What if he never cared for her and only cared about earning Danby’s favor? She deserved better than some sycophantic toady, didn’t she?
There was a scratch at the door and the Danby butler cleared his throat. “Your Grace, Lord Heathfield is here to see you.”
The duke smiled. “Perfect timing, Kilworth was just leaving.” Then he gestured toward the corridor. “I’m certain Heathfield would be happy to support your new churches bill. You should set up a time to see him.”
And just that quickly, Thad had been dismissed.
Chapter 9
Hope glanced across the coach at her brother and his wife. Quent sported a rather knowing grin for some reason. “What are you so happy about?” she asked. After all, she couldn’t imagine anyone who’d been summoned to Whitton House that very afternoon would smile about much of anything. Of course, Quent seemed to like the old duke for some reason.
Quent’s smile grew like he had some sort of secret. “Just so glad we’re not about to attend another dismal musical. And someone—” he winked at his wife Lila “—has said I never have to attend another one.”
