The Temptation of the Duke (Regency Romance)

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  Andrew was quick to greet them in the entry hall as they handed off their pelisses and bonnets to a footman. Sam ran into his arms, and he lifted her easily off the ground. “I was starting to worry,” he said as he approached and planted a kiss directly onto Chloe’s lips.

  Of course, Grace did her best to turn away. After all she’d learned about Chloe’s and Andrew’s intimate relationship, she simply could not tolerate any public displays of affection from them. Not that she wasn’t a bit jealous and desperately hopeful to have that someday, she just didn’t need to see it from her sister.

  “Sorry, darling,” Chloe said as Andrew put his free hand at the small of her back and led them toward the drawing room. “How was the meeting with Mr. Markham?”

  “Oh, all is well, my love.” He glanced over his shoulder at Grace. “What’s the matter with her?”

  Though he asked this of Chloe, Grace spoke up on her own behalf. “There’s nothing the matter with me,” she said haughtily.

  “She’s set her cap for a married man,” Chloe said.

  “Engaged.”

  “Be careful, Grace.” Andrew leveled her with a look that said I know what I’m talking about.

  “Yes, thank you, Andrew. But I haven’t set my cap for him at all. I was just…thinking about it.”

  “Well, hopefully you’ll think better of it.”

  Chloe nodded. “That’s what I said.”

  Grace rolled her eyes behind their backs as they passed through the doors into the drawing room. Everyone else was here already, sitting in a lovely tableau near the fire, while the children played on the large rug with their wooden toys.

  As Andrew deposited Sam on the rug with the other children, Katherine rushed to Chloe and Grace, clad in dark crimson that, with her olive skin and dark hair, made her look as if she hailed from Spain or Portugal rather than England. Her thick lashes fluttered, eclipsing her shimmering black eyes.

  “There’s been a kerfuffle below stairs,” she said breathlessly. The Duchess of Weston positively thrived on gossip. “Apparently one of our footmen has fallen ill—so, in order to not be short a server for supper, they’re making other arrangements. Thankfully, it’s only a family dinner. You won’t be offended if a maid assists, will you?”

  Chloe and Grace both tittered at the woman’s preposterous concern.

  “You must forget about our humble upbringing, Katherine,” Chloe said. “I’m certain we can overlook an unconventional server at supper.”

  “The Duchess of Somerset, however…” Grace muttered, not really intending for either of them to hear her.

  Katherine blinked and focused her onyx gaze on Grace. “What do you mean?” she whispered, clearly eager to hear the gossip.

  “Grace,” Chloe admonished. “We mustn’t speak ill of our neighbor.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” Katherine chirped. “You know I’m excellent at keeping secrets.” She ignored the snorts of disbelief from Chloe and Grace. “Now, go on. What has the duchess done?”

  Grace looked from Chloe, who leveled her with a warning glare, to Katherine, who waited in barely veiled desperation for the story. What harm was there in telling Katherine? Even the duchess’s own son couldn’t stand her, so what did she care if the woman heard they thought ill of her? “Katherine,” she began, turning her back on her sister. “She is a most dreadful woman. You wouldn’t believe how she behaved at tea this afternoon.”

  Grace relayed the story of their trying teatime, and Katherine responded with appropriate gasps and jaw drops. Chloe interjected here and there, trying to downplay the event with statements like, “I’m sure that’s not how she meant it,” or “Perhaps she wasn’t feeling well.” Grace couldn’t understand her sister’s fierce defense of the woman, given how she’d spoken of her immediately following tea that afternoon.

  By the time Grace had finished the story, and they’d speculated over the source of her bitterness, the butler tinkled the dinner bell.

  “Ah!” Katherine exclaimed to the room at large. “It seems they’ve figured out the serving predicament. Shall we?”

  They all filed out of the drawing room toward the dining room, but Chloe pulled Grace back a few paces.

  “A word,” she said sternly, and then continued, not waiting for a reply. “You need to learn to bite your tongue. The Duchess of Somerset is our next-door neighbor, and we have no idea how a mind like hers works. If she’s so bold as to behave the way she did over tea, who knows what she might do to someone who has slandered her name amongst the ton.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Grace.” Chloe held up a hand, refusing to let Grace defend herself. “You will not breathe an ill word against the woman to anyone else. Is that understood?”

  Grace didn’t like to be told what to do. She was nineteen now—an adult, soon to be a wife and mother. She didn’t need her sister bossing her about as if they were still children. “Katherine asked me to share,” she said, knowing it was a lame and empty excuse.

  “Of course she did. But Katherine doesn’t have to worry about her reputation nearly as much as we do. We were not brought up in these circles. We are a poor farmer’s daughters, and while we’ve been accepted by the ton, thanks to the Wetherby family, we still have much to prove. As soon as one of us makes a wrong move, we’ll be crucified for it. Unlike Katherine, who holds a great deal of influence and power over the Upper Ten Thousand.”

  “I know, but—”

  “If you want to catch a husband—and I know you do—then you will toe the line.”

  With one last pointed look, Chloe swept from the drawing room to join the others for dinner. Grace stayed behind for a moment, feeling fully chastised and just a little wounded. It wasn’t fair, all these rules she had to follow.

  She sighed and let her shoulders slump. She ought to be safe doing so, as there was no one there to criticize her or write about her poor posture in the gossip columns.

  ~*~

  Evan bounded down the stairs of his home, eager to leave the house that morning. He’d spent half the night awake, thinking about his blasted next-door neighbor. He ought to be thinking about his future wife, not some filly with a penchant for eavesdropping and butting in where she wasn’t wanted. Grace Clarke would make a most horrific duchess, really. She was far too capricious. No matter how entertaining that might be, he required someone of a more reserved nature. Someone who had been groomed for the role. Someone—

  He came up short when he heard voices coming from the drawing room. His mother’s voice was obvious, but who was she with?

  On silent feet, Evan made his way to the drawing room doors and pressed an ear against the panel. It occurred to him that he was no better than Miss Clarke in this moment, eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “You needn’t worry, my dear,” the duchess was saying. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t run off again. I fear his time in Paris has addled his brain. Damned French. He could have at least chosen Italy or Germany—anywhere but France. At any rate, I do believe my son to be somewhat honorable. He won’t beg off, I can promise you that.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Alicia replied, her voice meek and sweet. Unlike how she’d been with him in the gazebo the other evening. “I suppose we should discuss the flowers for the wedding breakfast, then?”

  Evan was about to remove himself from the door when the thick, wooden panel slid open abruptly, revealing his person to those inside. Damn and blast. He might have escaped unnoticed if it weren’t for the little maid’s gasp of surprise.

  Both his mother and Alicia snapped their heads up to look at him, their eyes wide with shock.

  “Somerset, whatever are you doing there? And please don’t say you were eavesdropping. I might expire on the spot if my son, the duke, were engaging in such a base act.”

  Evan thought momentarily that perhaps he should admit to it, but then thought better of it. “I was coming to find you,” he said. “I’m heade
d out to the club. You’ll not see me until supper.”

  “You will accompany Lady Alicia and myself after supper to Courtenay House for a musicale. Beeston and Hannah will join us as well.”

  He stifled a groan. How delightful. A musicale that would no doubt feature some poor young women whose mamas insisted they play to catch the eye of a handsome suitor. Or at least the mama of a handsome suitor. Then the mamas could force the match and—

  “Evan, did you hear me?”

  Only then did he realize that not only had he stifled his groan, but he’d also forgotten to answer the woman. Not that she’d asked. “Yes, fine.” He bowed and as he did so, he noticed that his mother gave Lady Alicia a little nudge. It was apparently supposed to be subtle, except his mother was anything but.

  “Oh,” Alicia said, as if an idea had just popped into her head from nowhere. “Might I accompany you to the door, Your Grace?”

  What was Evan to say to that? Of course, he could say no, but then he’d have to suffer the consequences later, wouldn’t he? Better not make waves. “That would be most appreciated, Lady Alicia,” he said, trying to sound as gracious as he could, though his tone bordered more on sarcasm.

  She rose from her seat and floated across the room. Her gown was fitted closely to her bosom, and hugged her hips as she walked, unlike Grace’s flowing dress that billowed away from her every time the breeze picked up.

  Damn, he was going to get himself in a heap of trouble if he kept comparing Lady Alicia to Grace. They were different, and that was all there was to it. Both were lovely in their own right. Lady Alicia especially, with her dark hair and dark eyes—like an exotic island beauty. At least, that’s what he assumed an island beauty might look like. He’d never actually seen one in the flesh.

  She walked through the doorway ahead of him and they went side-by-side toward the front door.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you here today,” he finally said, for lack of anything better to say.

  “Your mother invited me. She thought we ought to get started on the arrangements for the wedding. They’ve already started to read the banns, you know?”

  A sense of panic that started in Evan’s belly rose higher and higher until he was nearly choking on it. “No, I didn’t know that,” he managed. “I suppose a date has been set without me, then?”

  For the first time since he’d met her, Lady Alicia seemed apologetic about something. “It was your mother’s idea.”

  “Of course it was,” he bit out.

  “The first Saturday of June.”

  April was nearly over. That meant in just over five weeks he’d be a married man. Married to…her. He stared at Lady Alicia for a long moment as they stood by the front door. She was pleasant to look at when she didn’t have that calculating gleam in her eyes. He could do this. He could be married to her…till death did they part.

  “You don’t seem terribly happy,” she ventured, that hard edge he knew too well coming back into her tone.

  “I would have liked to have been consulted on the matter,” he told her honestly.

  “You’ve had fifteen years to set a date.” Lady Alicia’s lips pinched together. “Perhaps your mother was starting to get nervous you might put it off another fifteen.”

  I would if I could. “Nonsense.”

  “You’ll not leave me at the altar, will you?”

  Evan accepted his hat from the footman and while he placed it upon his head, took the opportunity to calm his boiling blood. What he wanted to ask was, “If I were planning on it, do you think I would tell you?” But that was no way to diffuse the situation. His guilt over his prolonged absence kept him from speaking his mind, anyway.

  Decide to be happy.

  His conversation with Grace came creeping back in on the heels of his guilt. Could he ever decide to be happy? Could he ever let it go long enough to feel a moment of bliss?

  “I’m not certain how I should take this prolonged silence,” Lady Alicia said, drawing him from his thoughts.

  “Of course I’ll not leave you at the altar,” he said with an edge of annoyance. “What a preposterous thing to ask.”

  Lady Alicia’s eyebrows rose as if to say, “Is it?”

  “I assure you, I simply have much on my mind. I’m very glad you and my mother are handling the wedding, since my brain is so addled.”

  Lady Alicia’s eyes rounded like saucers, but she didn’t call him out for listening at the door. Perhaps she was too embarrassed about their conversation to want to admit to it. “Well, I don’t have a mother of my own, so it is a great help to me.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Evan accepted his cane from the footman and used it to tip his hat to his future bride. “Until this evening, Lady Alicia.”

  Six

  It was times like these Grace was grateful she wasn’t musically inclined. If she were, she imagined she’d be having a worse time than she was at this very moment. Goodness, but these poor girls were horrific musicians—if one could even call them that. According to the program, they were playing a piece by Haydn and Grace was certain the composer was turning circles in his grave. It sounded as if a bunch of barnyard animals had gotten into a row.

  Chloe put a hand on top of Grace’s in an effort to still her fidgeting. Grace cast her sister a sidelong glance that said, If you had let me stay home, you wouldn’t have had to put up with me. Of course, Chloe couldn’t be bothered to look at her, so she probably didn’t pick up on the silent message, but still. They’d argued about this earlier in the day when Grace had begged to be allowed to stay home. Granted, it wasn’t like her, despite not being terribly fond of musicales. She normally didn’t like to miss an opportunity to meet an eligible gentleman, but ever since her walk in the garden with Evan, she couldn’t seem to think of anyone or anything else. He was forbidden, of course, but it didn’t stop her from daydreaming about him. Or pining for him. And it certainly didn’t stop that swirling in her belly that made her want to toss up her accounts.

  The music came to a stop, and the audience applauded politely despite how dreadful it had been. Grace glanced down at her program again, praying it would say the concert was over, even though she knew very well they were nowhere near the end. When she looked back up, her gaze landed on the small group of people who had arrived late to the event. Her stomach plummeted, and her heart sped to a frighteningly dangerous speed. Heat infused her cheeks, and everywhere else for that matter. Why did her entire body feel aflame?

  She snapped open her fan and began to wave it frantically in front of her face as the party, which included Evan and his betrothed, took their seats a few rows back.

  Blast this heaviness in my chest! Was this what love felt like? Or was it merely infatuation? Goodness, if this was only infatuation, she was doomed if she ever fell truly in love. Perhaps this was why their society looked down upon love matches. What if everyone walked about with racing hearts and churning stomachs all the time? The city would be in a state of total chaos, wouldn’t it?

  Should she dare a glance behind? Just to see where they were sitting. Surely no one would notice. She placed her fan in her lap and then rubbed her hands down her dress as the musicians started the next piece.

  “Would you stop fidgeting, Grace,” Chloe whispered through clenched teeth.

  Grace stilled her hands, though her whole body felt as if it were running a race. “Sorry,” she whispered back. And then she did it. She dared a backward glance, only to be met with Evan’s piercing blue gaze.

  Good heavens! He was looking at her, blast him. And he had the audacity, sitting there next to his fiancée, to wink at her. But not just any wink. This one was accompanied by a wry smile that sent Grace into even more of a dither than she’d been in previously. What did it mean anyway? Was it a wink of friendship? Or was it more? Was he being flirtatious?

  No, he wouldn’t dare. Not with his fiancée sitting beside him. Heavens, what kind of man would that make him?

  Grace gave him what she prayed wa
s a charming, friendly smile, but what she was certain was more like a twitchy, awkward grimace, before turning around and facing front again. She suddenly wished it were darker in this room. But, of course, the hosts had lit every available sconce in London. It seemed they wanted the patrons to get a quality view of their eligible daughters. At least they had that to recommend them. All four of the Courtenay girls were stunning. Diamonds of the first water. It was a pity none of them was married yet. Perhaps it was more important to play an instrument well than Grace had realized. She wasn’t nearly as beautiful as these girls and she couldn’t play any better than they did. Perhaps they were all fated to live out their days as spinsters.

  “What is the matter with you tonight?” Chloe hissed from beside her. Grace looked at her sister askance. “You’re muttering to yourself.”

  Was she? “Sorry,” she whispered back, and then she closed her eyes and took several deep, cleansing breaths. She had to gain control of herself. It wouldn’t do to get herself so worked up over a man she couldn’t have. Really, what was the matter with her? The Duke of Somerset was not available, no matter how much she wanted him to be. And even if he were available, what was to say he would have any interest in the poor relation of the second son of the Marquess of Wetherby? Surely his mother would have something to say about that. She’d never let her son, the duke, marry so far beneath him. So really, what on earth was she so worked up about? There were no circumstances that would ever have her wed to the Duke of Somerset, so it was best she simply put him from her mind.

  After forty-five more grueling minutes of the sisters Courtenay and their string quartet, the concert was finally over. Grace could have sworn she heard a collective sigh before the applause at the end. She stuck close to Chloe’s side as the crowd dispersed, and blessedly, it seemed the Somerset party was eager to leave almost as quickly as they’d come. That suited Grace just fine.

  Across the room, she spotted her friend Lorinda Stillwell, who waved her over.