“The offerings are limited,” he admitted with a brief scowl.
She nodded and waited.
“Possibly Lady Ackerman,” he said. “A young woman with a large fortune and no living parents to interfere. Hawkhurst might be intrigued by her.”
“A good selection, Your Grace,” she admitted. “And one I’ve considered. Lord Hawkhurst might be intrigued by her tragic past. However, I am afraid the match is unsuitable.”
Axton narrowed his eyes at her. “Why?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Lady Ackerman is already in love,” Camilla confided.
“Oh.” Axton sighed, defeated, and leaned back. “But—”
“You do not wish to have Hawkhurst try and win a woman’s heart when that heart is already taken.”
“No,” he agreed. “I suppose not.” He sat up then, no longer the defeated duke but once again the curious man. “Who does she love?”
“Someone just out of reach,” Camilla hedged. After all, her entire career depended on her prudence.
“Pity,” he said and shrugged. “I don’t believe in love that is out of reach.”
Again his gaze narrowed in on her, and for a heartbeat, Camilla thought they were the only two in the world. Hyde Park faded away, the cold day and even the sun. Only she and Axton, seated in the carriage, remained.
She blinked and forced the image, the surprise feeling of comfort and intimacy, away.
“The privileged rarely do,” Camilla said around a tight throat. “But you should.”
She saw his carriage approach again and waved for his driver to stop. Turning to the duke, she smiled coolly and professionally at him, and tried to put as much distance between them as possible.
Riding in a carriage with the Duke of Axton might be the best way to earn further commissions, but it was not at all good for her. What was it about this man that weakened all her defenses and tugged her to him? She’d had other lovers without this closeness.
Axton’s driver pulled alongside her carriage, and she turned to the duke. “If you don’t mind, Your Grace, I have further business to attend to with my secretary.”
Even seated, he sketched a very courtly bow. “Of course.”
He captured her hand and kissed the glove, lingering a bit longer than acceptable. Still bowed over her, he looked up and offered a wicked smile that should not have made her so eager to see it again.
“I hope to see you soon,” he said.
Then, in the same economy of power and grace, Axton helped Margaret into the carriage and sat in his. Camilla ignored Margaret’s wide-eyed stare and watched the duke’s carriage disappear off the path and out of the park.
She tried to breathe a sigh of relief, but only felt a curious sense of loss. Loss and anticipation.
“Oh, ma’am!” Margaret gasped. “The Duke of Axton!”
Camilla turned sharply to her and nodded. “Yes, we’ll have quite the number of inquiries as to whether he’s in search of a wife.” She cleared her throat and wondered at the warmth beating through her. “Likely waiting for us when we return.”
“No, no.” Margaret shook her head. “These blind people could not see, but I could. The way he looked at you.” She sighed and smiled softly. “The way he studied you, he does not want a match, not with anyone else at least.”
Camilla looked sharply at her protégée and knew what Margaret’s next words were going to be.
“He clearly wants a match with you.” Margaret said it with such confidence, Camilla wondered if Axton spoke with her beforehand.
But, no, that was ridiculous. Of course he hadn’t. And of course he didn’t.
Even if her heart skipped at Margaret’s insinuation.
“That will not happen,” Camilla said with more confidence than she felt. “And while I can see the duke’s interest, it’s not for a match. So do get that fantasy out of your head.”
She cleared her throat and tried to keep her voice even and her tone professional. “We must work on Lord Hawkhurst’s match. Not on some”—she waved a hand—“girlish notion.”
“Oh, to work for a duchess!” Margaret gushed. Clearly she heard nothing Camilla said. “How exciting! Would we stay in London, do you think? Or at the family estate for most of the year?”
She sniffed and nodded once. “He has an eye for you, ma’am. That’s as clear as day.”
Camilla sighed, the only thing she had in her. But then she drew herself up and shook her head. “A matchmaker is not a fitting wife for a duke,” she said sharply. “Remember that. Now, if you wish to keep your position, you won’t mention this again.”
“Oh, but—” Margaret began.
Camilla only gave her a sharp, hard look. It wasn’t enough to deter Margaret, however. More than mentor and protégée, they truly became friends; no matter how Camilla rebuked her, Margaret nevertheless spoke her mind.
“A duke fits with whomever he chooses,” she muttered just loud enough for Camilla to hear.
Chapter Four
CAMILLA TOOK ONE last look at her reflection in the looking glass, curled a lock of hair around her finger, and nodded in satisfaction. Her deep blue velvet gown accentuated her golden brown eyes perfectly. And Greenboro, her lady’s maid, had curled her hair in small ringlets that sat perfectly against her bare shoulders.
“Who’s hosting Mr. Hamilton’s Christmas play?” Margaret asked suddenly.
The other woman sat in a chair by the fire, a book open on her lap. They normally chatted while Camilla readied for a party, and tonight was no different. Margaret lived with Camilla, though she didn’t yet have the acumen to visit polite society for work. She was a quick learner, however, and Camilla knew soon she’d have her own list of potential commissions.
Tonight had been lovely as they chatted, except for Margaret’s sly question about the Duke of Axton. Or not so sly, really. The woman was good at her job as a born matchmaker, but she hadn’t a sly bone in her body.
“Lady Lindor is the lead actress tonight,” Camilla said with a sigh. “As Mr. Hamilton is…otherwise occupied.”
A useless reminder. Everyone knew James Hamilton stayed loyal to Lord Granville during the earl’s current scandal. Still, Camilla admired both Granville’s unwillingness to disavow his fiancée and Hamilton’s loyalty to his friends.
“I understand he’d have cancelled tonight if he had his way,” Camilla added softly.
She waited as Miss Greenboro fussed with the fall of her dress. Sometimes Camilla wondered who was in charge—her or her lady’s maid. She suspected Miss Greenboro.
“Twas very nice of Lady Lindor to agree to act as hostess for Mr. Hamilton,” Margaret said and stood. “You’ve often said it’s not Christmas without this Christmas play.”
“Hmm,” Camilla agreed as Miss Greenboro stepped back and nodded her approval.
“Mayhap next year I’ll attend instead,” Margaret continued.
“Instead?” Camilla echoed. She narrowed her eyes at Margaret, who looked back with wide-eyed innocence.
“Of course. If the Duke of Axton has his way.”
With that, Margaret smiled widely and laughed as she exited the suddenly silent room. Camilla looked after her in shock but couldn’t find a retort. She could find no words, actually—a true rarity.
She purposely put that conversation with Margaret—and all conversations with Margaret since yesterday’s interaction in Hyde Park—firmly out of her mind.
On the carriage ride from her townhouse to the theater Mr. Hamilton rented for his annual play, she forced her mind to the matter at hand. There was the matter of Lord Hawkhurst, of course. Miss Lavinia Everett—whom Camilla took pity on with the very firm caveat that her mother was nowhere near their conversations—needed a suitable match. And she received dozens and dozens of new inquiries, which continued to arrive.
Yesterday’s interaction with the Duke of Axton most definitely had not gone unnoticed.
No. Camilla refused to think on Axton. Or on Margaret’s c
ontinued—and false—belief that he had any interest in her whatsoever.
She wouldn’t think of him at all. Except where it concerned Lord Hawkhurst’s potential match. Yes. She cleared her throat, breathed deeply, and waited for her footman to hand her down.
Slipping her cool, polite mask firmly into place, Camilla walked with her head held high into the theater. Tonight’s play, A Winter’s Frolic, was sure to be excellent. Hamilton spared no expense for his annual play, and Lady Lindor was amongst the most prolific of amateur actresses.
The moment she entered the main room, a bevy of young misses turned their attention to her. Camilla expected that, of course, and prepared herself for their interest in making a very specific match.
Axton must’ve known what would happen—the tongues he’d set to wagging when he unceremoniously jumped into her carriage. The man was utterly incorrigible. But then weren’t most dukes?
He played a dangerous game. By all rights, she should besiege the masses onto him. It served Axton right to do so.
Camilla looked around the room, taking stock of who already arrived and who had yet to. Then her gaze landed on a tall, broad form, and even though his back was to her, Camilla knew instantly who stood across the room.
She’d known he was to be here. Of course he was. Everyone was here; it was the single largest Christmas event in all of England. With the exception of the Prince Regent’s feast of course. Camilla had not expected to linger over Axton’s physical form, however. Or to know him instantly even from behind.
She swallowed hard and willed her breathing to slow. It was no use, and she needed another moment to hear anything other than the pounding of her blood. Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, this reaction of hers.
He commanded the group. With his stance, his laugh, and his engaging personality, every person in a ten-foot radius hung on his every word. Axton was not, however, as overbearing as other dukes.
Axton held a casual air that drew people in. He always seemed so very interested in those around them. Especially her, Camilla had noticed, not that he made a secret of it.
Camilla reluctantly tore her gaze from him, only to see the talkative Miss Darlington’s equally talkative mother head directly for her. It was a weak move, but Camilla pretended not to see the determined woman. She ducked around a footman carrying a tray of wine glasses, snagged a glass, and disappeared into the crowd.
Oh, she couldn’t hide forever, and certainly not from everyone. But she needed just a moment to catalog her thoughts and order this very odd desire to know more about Axton.
She was not that lucky.
Even as Camilla made her way through the crowd to Lord and Lady Lindor, she knew four—no, five, no…
Oh dear.
It looked as if every single eligible lady here tonight headed directly for her.
Camilla took a deep breath, finished her wine in a single drink, and suddenly wondered about Miss Norwood. She never had written the other woman. Had her little scheme produced the desired results? She’d check in at Chesham after the new year to see if anything bore fruit.
She took another deep breath and looked around for a footman. She’d need more wine if she were to make it through this evening. For reasons she preferred not to dwell upon, Camilla was not in the right mind to match a dozen women in a single eve.
Especially since they all seemed intent on the same gentleman.
Camilla blinked up at Axton. He stood before her, his lips slightly upturned and his gaze once again so focused on her. She slowly released a breath and returned his smile before she thought to stop herself.
“It seems you were correct,” he said.
He spoke directly against her ear, leaning over her so intimately, so familiarly, it sent shivers down her spine.
“You’re being besieged.” His breath brushed over her skin, cool and caressing in the heat of the room. “I’ll have to make it up to you, all these inquiries for a client you do not have.”
“No need, Your Grace,” she managed in her normal tone. But she leaned into him for a heartbeat. Camilla straightened when she realized it and offered a small, knowing smile. “You’ve given my occupation a further mystique.”
Axton straightened and offered that open smile again. “Allow me to escort you to Lady Seymour’s Winter’s Ball,” he offered.
She blinked up at him, too shocked for words. “That,” she managed, “would give the wrong impression.”
He merely raised an eyebrow. “What impression would that be?”
Camilla blinked again and watched him with a wicked gaze. “That I’d lower my standards for the likes of you.”
He laughed. Axton’s laugh boomed around her, and despite the crush, Camilla only saw him. Only heard his laugh and felt his closeness. She mentally shook herself and wanted to step back. She did not, and refused to admit to herself why that was.
“I may not be up to snuff, but I’m always on my best behavior at Lady Seymour’s,” he promised with another grin.
“While that might be an entertaining evening,” she said with equal openness and a touch of sultry she hadn’t consciously wished to convey, “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” She breathed deeply of the heat and close bodies, but was utterly unable to pull her attention from him. “That’s the evening of a very important match. I’m afraid all my attention will be focused on the young couple.”
“You won’t be able to spare not even a moment for this poor, old duke?” he asked.
But his eyes still danced with laughter, and she wondered how she never knew the Duke of Axton was so fond of laughing.
“Not a moment.” She shook her head and held back her own laughter. Then she paused and tilted her head to the side. “Unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless we discuss what type of match I seek for you,” she added triumphantly.
Just then the footman announced the play was to begin. And before Axton had the chance to speak further, Mrs. Darlington appeared. Camilla suppressed a sigh.
“Oh, Mrs. Primsby,” Mrs. Darlington said even as she eyed Axton. “We’re to be seated near each other during the play. Do let’s walk in together, shall we?”
Camilla didn’t bother to demur. She merely nodded and turned in the direction of the doors, with the rest of those gathered. But she looked to her right where Axton remained standing. He watched her just as intently as each previous time they met.
It made her breath catch and her heart do a funny little flip.
But she blinked and turned away, forcing her attention on Mrs. Darlington. Not that the other woman said anything Camilla couldn’t have guessed, but listening to the mother prattle on about her wonderful daughter was far better than wallowing in her own thoughts.
And her very curious desire to know the Duke of Axton better. A desire she’d not had for any man in some time.
A Winter’s Frolic was mildly amusing. It lacked Mr. Hamilton’s unique presence, however. Camilla’s attention wandered over the crowd, no matter how often she tried to snap it back to the play. But her gaze always found Axton and her thoughts were continually consumed by Axton. He clearly wanted to know her better, but did she want to entertain such a notion?
She found him attractive; of course she did. He was a very handsome man, and the way he looked at her captured her every time.
And he surprised her with his humor and his willingness to laugh. The way his voice caressed her skin whenever he spoke and how it seemed as if his entire attention focused on her at each of their meetings. And how he watched her with that direct focus, as if she were the only other being around.
It wasn’t appropriate for her to be a duchess. Not that she wanted that. But the scandal would be the talk of the ton for years to come. Mayhap not as spectacular as Lord Granville and Miss Lyndell, but a scandal nonetheless.
Suddenly the curtain fell and the crowd rose. Camilla blinked. She missed the entire last act of the play.
Camilla rose with the rest of t
hem and smiled at Mrs. Darlington and…oh dear, who sat on her right? Mrs. Willis. Yes, Martha Willis, who had three daughters of marriageable age.
“Excuse me,” she said with a smile she knew didn’t reach her eyes and no doubt looked as false as it felt.
She made her way out of the theater, careful not to look around at the many mothers who wished their daughters matched—and with the Duke of Axton. And Camilla very deliberately did not look for the duke himself.
But her mind continued to wander. Wander to him, always back to Axton. Even as she waited for her carriage and even as she made her way slowly through the crowded streets.
What would it be like to have an affair with Axton? The amusing sort. Whenever they conversed, she forgot everyone else even existed. There were very few people in her acquaintance who ever accomplished that. At the moment, Camilla was hard-pressed to name one.
Plus, she’d never been the mistress of a duke before.
She frowned. No, that hardly mattered. Titles and honors never mattered to her. Then again, would being the known mistress of the Duke of Axton hurt or elevate her business? Elevate it, no doubt.
And he seemed an experienced man. Camilla wondered if he truly was.
Still, was it wise? To begin an affair with Axton? No, but she was indeed tempted.
Chapter Five
ONCE MORE GREENBORO fussed with Camilla’s dress. Perhaps one night she’d delight in an evening without a gown, without her hair curled just so. An evening for her. With, perhaps, Axton in her bed.
However, tonight she attended a concert at Mrs. Darlington’s, where she hoped to find a match for Lord Hawkhurst. The man proved exceptionally difficult in procuring a compatible woman.
Camilla barely noticed as Greenboro sat her down and once again re-pinned her hair, fussing over the lay of curls and the set of pins.
She saw Axton this afternoon again in Hyde Park; he’d been as attentive as ever, with an additional…spark? mischievousness? Yes, mischievousness in his eyes, one Camilla didn’t quite understand.
Improper Duke: Scandalous Encounters Page 3
