His fiancée blinked up at him, all sweetness and innocence. “Well, until I feel you’ve paid your penance, I suppose.”
“Any idea when that might be? It doesn’t have to be an exact date. But I’d like to be prepared for the day when we can have a conversation without said reminders.” Wouldn’t that be novel?
Lady Alicia clearly wasn’t pleased with him if her narrowed eyes and flaring nostrils were any indication. “Do you know how old I am?” she asked, her slightly crooked teeth clenched tightly.
Evan nodded solemnly as the guilt began to creep back in. “I do.”
“Six-and-twenty,” she hissed. “Six. And twenty. My life is nearly over!” Her voice rose in both pitch and volume. Evan glanced about at the nearby dancers, but thankfully none of them seemed to notice. Yet. “I understand you’re angry with me,” he said gently, trying to calm her before she made a scene.
“What if you had never returned? I would have been too old to make another match. Here I’ve been—”
“Please, Alicia,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Not here.”
“Then take me out to the garden.”
He really didn’t want to take her out to the garden. She was only going to reprimand him for who knew how long, and there was nothing he could do about it. And there was nothing he could do to change what he’d done. Hadn’t he already apologized? Wasn’t his guilt already great enough?
But what choice did he have? Her jaw was set like a stubborn dog. This was something he’d have to endure whether tonight, or tomorrow…or perhaps he was going to have to endure it every day for the rest of his life. Who knew?
“Fine,” he finally said with a heavy sigh.
He spun her off the dance floor and led her to the balcony. Too many people milled about, enjoying the fresh air. Evan kept walking, down the stairs, under the trellis, through the rose bushes and finally to the abandoned gazebo.
“All right. Go ahead. Have at me.” He threw his arms up and let them drop by his sides.
Lady Alicia stood quietly staring at him. At least he thought she was staring at him. It was awfully dark without the moon tonight, so it was difficult to tell.
She folded her arms across her chest and gave a little harrumph. “It’s not as satisfying if you’re asking for it.”
She was a damned infuriating woman. “Lady Alicia, I don’t know what more I could say to make you realize how very sorry I am for making you wait for me for so very long.”
“Why did you stay away so long?”
Damn. He couldn’t very well say, to keep from marrying you, could he? He shrugged and said instead, “I don’t know. I planned to only be gone a year or two, but…well, by then I had built a life abroad.”
“Where?”
“Paris.”
After a long moment of silence, Evan heard the telltale whimper of a crying woman. Damn!
“Lady Al—”
“You bastard!” she shouted, her voice full of emotion.
He reared back at her tone and language. Not that he was offended—though perhaps he should have been since she’d just called him a bastard—just taken a bit off guard.
“You’ve been off, gallivanting about Paris! Paris! And here I’ve sat, in jolly old England, wasting my life away.”
“I doubt you’ve been wast—”
“While every friend I ever had has since married and had children and…” Her shoulders slumped. She was losing steam, it seemed.
“And what?”
“Never mind,” she finally said, her voice rough and hurried. “I’d better get back before Father comes looking for me.”
She started to go, but Evan grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back toward him. “Lady Alicia, what is it that you’ve been waiting for?”
“Nothing.” She tried to leave again, but he held onto her shoulders.
“If we are to be husband and wife, there can be no secrets between us. Come now. Tell me, and I shall do all that is in my power to fulfill your wish.”
Lady Alicia finally turned her chin up to look at him. The night was black as pitch, but he could still see the tears glistening on her cheeks. “I-I’ve never been kissed,” she said at last. “And I’ve waited fifteen years for one.”
“Oh.” Evan was somewhat taken aback, though he ought not to have been. If she was betrothed to him, why would she ever have kissed another man? He appreciated her faithfulness, but still, at six-and-twenty, the poor girl must be dying inside to know what such a thing felt like. “Well, I suppose that is something I could remedy, couldn’t I?”
Evan hesitated. He knew how to kiss a woman…and much more. He’d spent fifteen years among the French, and learned quite a bit in the bedrooms of French widows. Perhaps it was the pressure of kissing one’s future wife for the first time that made him so uncomfortable. Or perhaps it was being manipulated into doing it. That was what she’d done, after all, wasn’t it?
Did any of that matter, though? His betrothed stood before him, crying her eyes out, desperate for a bit of affection from him. His guilt grew by the second.
Slowly, Evan lowered his head and found Lady Alicia’s lips in the darkness. He put his mouth to hers. She didn’t open for him, and he didn’t attempt to cajole her. He simply pressed his lips against hers and then pulled away just as quickly.
“There,” he said, taking a step back. “Now you’ve been kissed.”
She stared at him for but a moment, then turned on her heel and faded into the darkness. Relief flooded Evan. Thank God that was over with.
Four
Grace could hardly believe her bad luck. The duke, along with his sister and mother, were on their way to tea at this very moment. She had prayed rather fervently last night that His Grace would be called away on urgent business and have to send his regrets. But there he was, strutting down the street in his buckskin trousers and Hessian boots. Grace scanned him from his toes, up his finely toned legs, over his trim torso and broad shoulders, until—
Good heavens! Where he’d been scruffy and wild-haired yesterday, he was now clean shaven, and his hair pulled back with a black ribbon, all neat and tidy. Part of her had been drawn to the rough and tumble version of him, but now…well, he completely took her breath away. His features were even more desirable now that she could see them clearly. Those cheekbones looked as if they’d been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. And his hair appeared much darker all slicked back like that. In some ways, he seemed far more dangerous now than he had when he’d been unkempt. Grace really couldn’t figure out which way she liked him best. Or which was made her heart beat faster.
Not that it mattered what she thought of him. He was engaged, after all. Any nerves she suffered today were out of a concern he would tell Chloe about her eavesdropping yesterday.
Her heart raced anew at the thought. Oh, dear. What would she do if Chloe found out? What would Chloe do? Probably send her back to Mama and Papa in the country. Then she’d never have the opportunity to fall in love with a gentleman that could give her what she wanted in life. Or really, what she wanted for the children she hoped to have one day. She hadn’t had an unhappy childhood, but the truth was, if it wasn’t for the Wetherbys and all their money and connections, Grace might be dead by now. It was her brother-in-law Andrew who had sent the doctor to care for her when she stood at death’s door. Without him—
“Grace!”
“In here,” she called back to her sister from her perch in the bay window of the music room.
Chloe appeared in the doorway a moment later, the color high in her cheeks. “Everything’s set for tea. Come and join me so we may greet our guests together.”
Grace glanced out the window as the trio pushed through the gate and started up the path to the front door. “Yes, of course,” she said, rising from her seat and following Chloe from the room.
She nervously ran her damp hands down her skirts, in an attempt to soothe her nerves and dry her palms at the same time. It wasn’t working.
/> The knock came upon the door just as she and Chloe settled into the drawing room. They waited quietly for the butler to announce the visitors. It felt like an eternity before he finally did.
“His Grace, the Duke of Somerset, the Duchess of Somerset, and Lady Beeston.”
Chloe stood immediately and glided across the room to greet the trio while Grace hung back near the tea table and smiled as best she could. While her sister invited them in, Grace did her best to focus on the females of the little group rather than the one male who threatened to demand all her attention.
The younger of the two women—presumably the duke’s sister—was quite lovely, with dark hair and a pale blue gown. The elder of the two, however, was quite the opposite of lovely. She wore all black, unless one counted the gaudy amethyst broach at her throat, and the wrinkles around her mouth were so firmly set in a downward position Grace wondered if she’d ever smiled in her entire life.
Chloe led the older woman to a chair at the table, then gestured for everyone else to take a seat. “We’re delighted you could all join us this afternoon,” Chloe said as she set to pouring the tea. “When we heard you’d returned to Town and that His Grace had returned from the Continent, we were most eager to invite you all over.”
“Have you any cake?”
All eyes turned to the duchess. Her beady gaze was fixed on Chloe, who looked ready to crawl under the table.
“I-I am sorry. I don’t think Cook prepared any this afternoon.”
The duchess tskd and then rolled her eyes as she sucked in an annoyed breath through her nose. “Well, let’s get on with the chit-chat then before I waste away.”
Chloe, eager to please, stuttered and stammered as she said, “We do have sweet biscuits, if you’d care for one.”
“I suppose that will have to do, won’t it?” The duchess pulled her lips into a thin, straight line. “Now, who are you?”
The woman’s piercing black eyes landed on Grace, sending a flush of heat to her cheeks. She took a breath and wondered why the old duchess had the ability to make everyone around her feel uncomfortable and inferior. Everyone practically cowered under her scrutiny. Grace was tempted to do the same, but something of a rebellious nature bubbled up inside of her. It wasn’t like her at all, but something about this woman made her fiercely defensive. She straightened her spine and leveled the woman with an equally icy stare.
“My name is Grace Clarke. I am Lady Andrew’s sister.”
It wasn’t a grand statement that would put the old woman in her place, but still, Grace held her breath while the duchess studied her face intently. Blessedly, before she could say anything, her son, the duke, spoke up.
“I noticed you’ve some lovely rose bushes growing along our shared wall,” he said, tossing a quick glance in Grace’s direction.
She nearly spit her tea across the table. Blast him and his mischievous blue eyes.
Chloe didn’t seem to notice the tension that flowed through the room at this statement. She was far too pleased someone had noticed her flowers. “Why, thank you. I do take great pride in them.”
“My roses won first place at the annual contest in East Sussex,” the cantankerous duchess said as she stirred another sugar cube into her tea. “My gardener could probably teach you a thing or two about raising them properly.”
Chloe visibly deflated at the inference her roses weren’t good enough. “Well…perhaps,” she said. And really, there wasn’t anything else to say. It wasn’t an offer from the duchess to share her gardener, was it? Merely a cutting jab at Chloe’s lovely flowers.
While her sister might be willing to sit back and allow the duchess to verbally trample her rose garden, Grace wasn’t going to allow it. No one spoke to her sister like that.
“Don’t be modest, Chloe,” she said, her eyes fixed on the duchess, regardless of the fact she spoke to her sister. “Your roses are most certainly prize winning.”
“And I’m sure you would know,” the duke chimed in, his expression so serious she thought for a moment he might not actually be teasing her. “I hear you spend a great deal of time admiring them.”
Blast him, he was teasing her. If the duchess didn’t have the ability to make Grace flush with embarrassment, her son certainly did.
She shifted in her chair and met the duke’s piercing gaze straight on. “I spend the normal amount of time in the garden.”
“And what is the normal amount of time for one to spend in a garden?” the duchess asked, her lips pinched together as if she already expected Grace to disappoint her with the answer.
And certainly the answer would disappoint since Grace had no clue what a normal amount of time was for a person to spend in the garden. But she couldn’t stay silent, could she? “I should say an hour is the normal amount of time, wouldn’t you, Lady Beeston?”
“Of course she wouldn’t!” the duchess crowed, cutting her daughter off before she’d gotten a single word out. “An hour. Preposterous. Can you imagine the freckles one would have if one did such a thing on a daily basis? Why, one need only look at your skin, my dear, to see that practice is ill advised.”
Well, now she’d done it. Grace seethed just below the surface. The rush of emotions coursing through her veins sent her into a tizzy of confusion. She was either going to run away crying or begin screaming at the woman about her poor manners. Of course, what would that say about Grace’s manners?
Hmph. She wasn’t sure she cared just then.
All went silent. It appeared Grace wasn’t the only one in a state of shock. After a moment that felt like a lifetime, the duke came to her rescue.
“Well, I rather like freckles, so I think you ought to aim for an extra quarter hour from now on.” He smiled and then went about sipping his tea, as if nothing had happened.
His mother, on the other hand, tskd loudly and muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like, If you weren’t the duke…
“I think I should like to go home now,” the insufferable woman finally said. “Hannah.”
Her daughter, who hadn’t uttered a single syllable during their tea, rose elegantly from her seat and walked to her mother’s side. There wasn’t an ounce of emotion on the woman’s face. It was beautiful and completely impassive, and it made Grace mad with curiosity to know what was going on in her head.
“I do hope you’ll come again sometime,” Chloe said, jumping from her seat.
The duchess looked Chloe up and down, and then, as she turned away, muttered, “I wouldn’t hold your breath, my dear.”
It was Grace’s tongue that needed holding. She dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand to keep from saying what she was thinking. If you weren’t ninety years old and a duchess…
“While my mother might be too weary to make another trip next door, I’m certain Hannah and I would love to take tea with you and your sister again soon.”
Grace met the duke’s ice blue eyes and swallowed hard over the lump in her throat. Why did he stare at her so intently? Why did his gaze linger slightly longer than it ought to have? It made her heart flutter so fast she thought it might fly right out of her chest.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Chloe said, breaking the trance. “We would enjoy that very much.”
Grace and Chloe saw the trio to the door of the parlor and then stared after them from the large bay window. They were silent for a moment as they watched Hannah walk arm in arm with her mother, while the duke strode purposefully behind them.
“What a dreadful woman,” Chloe said, clearly still in awe of the duchess’s candor. “My sincerest condolences to poor Lady Alicia. I cannot imagine having that woman for a mother-in-law.”
Part of Grace had to agree with her sister—the woman was perhaps the most dreadful of all. But another part of her thought it might be worth the frustration to be able to call the Duke of Somerset her husband.
~*~
Evan pounded his feet against the ground as he walked home in the wake of his mother and Bunny.
Damn that insufferable woman! She’d always been blunt with Hannah and him, but to be so downright rude to their neighbors was simply unacceptable.
His nostrils flared. He was almost tempted to throw a stick between her feet to make her trip. It would serve her right, though she’d probably take Bunny down with her, so he would refrain.
What would have happened had he been here all these years, especially when Father passed? Mother hadn’t ever been terribly warm, but Father had kept her in her place and demanded a certain level of graciousness from her. Now that he was gone, it seemed the woman’s vitriol knew no bounds. She was an embarrassment to them all.
“I’m going up for a nap,” she announced as they climbed the three steps to the front door. “That was utterly exhausting.”
“Not just for you,” Evan muttered under his breath as he brushed past her into the entry hall.
“Oh, so you agree?” his mother asked, handing her fur stole over to the butler. “I thought you rather championed those women.”
Evan turned to her, his brow crinkling with confusion. “Of course I agree, but I wasn’t speaking of those women. I was speaking of you.”
A little gasp came from Bunny as the duchess reared back and drew her hand to her heart. “I beg your pardon?”
“You, Mother. You are the one who is exhausting, and I’ll not invite you to another tea ever again.”
His mother shoved her nose in the air. “That’s just as well. I’d find better company among the thoroughbreds in my stable.”
So, that’s what it was all about. Lady Andrew and her sister weren’t good enough to cavort with the likes of the Duchess of Somerset. Evan put his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. He’d cavorted with far more lowly people in Paris and never once gave thought to his title. “I’m sure we’d all appreciate it if you would find yourself in the stable. Shall I have your supper sent there, then?”
Evan looked to his sister. Her lips twitched and twisted as she tried to stifle a laugh.
His mother wasn’t nearly as amused. She leveled him with her black, beady eyes. “You may be the duke, but that does not mean I can’t make your life a living Hell.”
The Temptation of the Duke (Regency Romance) Page 4
