The Temptation of the Duke (Regency Romance)

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  “Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice shaky and weak.

  He stayed silent for so long, she thought he might never answer her, but finally he said, “I told you. To even the score.”

  So that was it. To get even with Lady Alicia. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she ruthlessly shoved down the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t cry. She’d brought this upon herself. Chloe had warned her, Andrew had warned her. She never could have imagined how painful it would be when he ultimately chose Alicia over her. When, after a kiss so passionate, he still would choose her.

  The silence dragged on too long. It was clear he wasn’t going to say anymore.

  “I have to go,” she muttered, already making her way back to the house. “I trust you can see yourself home.”

  ~*~

  Damn it! Grace practically ran back to the townhouse, her hair falling from its pins as she did. Part of that was his fault. In the midst of their rather impassioned kiss, he might have pulled a pin or two from her locks. Now she looked like a fury, running madcap for the verandah stairs. And Evan stood there feeling like the worst sort of cad, among other things. Why had he done that? Why had he kissed her? And why did he lie to her about why he kissed her? It wasn’t at all to even the score. Hearing about Lady Alicia’s indiscretion was almost like hearing permission to do something he’d wanted to do since the day he first laid eyes on Grace. It didn’t feel as if he were being unfaithful knowing Lady Alicia was being unfaithful herself.

  Evan shook his head and gave a little scoff of irony. When he’d been in Paris, it had never occurred to him to be faithful to Alicia. She was so far away, and still a child when he left. Of course he had dalliances. What young man wouldn’t? But once he’d returned to England, he’d made a decision to be a devoted husband to her. He owed her that much after being gone for so very long. But now he knew she was having her own affair…

  He couldn’t believe he’d fallen for that bit about never having been kissed. Clearly, she meant to play games with him—she’d certainly shown her proclivity to do just that . But why? To test his loyalty? Make him pay for his time away? It was a puzzle he’d probably never know the answer to, even if he came right out and asked directly.

  He looked up to the second floor of the Wetherby house where the bedchambers were. The room he’d thought was Grace’s wasn’t hers at all. No, he could see clearly now which one belonged to her, only because she stood so close to the window. Or was she sitting in a window seat? She confirmed that thought by drawing her knees to her chest and then putting her head down. Was she shaking?

  Damn it again! He’d made her cry. He’d never intended to hurt her, but of course it had been at the back of his mind he had the power to do so. It was obvious now that she held a penchant for him, and if he was being honest, he held one for her too. Which was the very reason he never should have done what he did. Because at the end of this sordid day, he had an agreement to marry Lady Alicia. He’d had one for many, many years. To beg off now would be dishonorable of him, and he’d never hear the end of it from his blasted mother.

  After watching Grace cry at her window for a few moments more, Evan took himself back to his own side of the garden and into the house. Sleep would never find him without a little help tonight, so he made his way to his study, threw back several tumblers of brandy, and prayed he’d feel better about all of this in the morning.

  Eight

  It was a good thing Grace was made of sterner stuff. She’d proved it years ago when she’d come through that fever which ought to have taken her life—or so the doctor said. And having been raised poor, her expectations of life were rather low, usually. Of course, she considered herself a dreamer with rather high aspirations for marriage, but still, she could handle disappointment better than some. Perhaps better than most. She didn’t have much to compare her situation to, but in the light of day, she felt much better about what had happened last night.

  Sure, she still got that swirling sick feeling when she thought of Evan, but if she simply shifted her thoughts to, say, new ribbons or the garden party she was to attend this afternoon, the swirling went away. All she had to do was pretend nothing happened, that she had never met Evan, the Duke of Somerset, or that he lived next door, or that she’d made a grave mistake in telling him about Lady Alicia, or that she ever even heard of Lady Alicia in the first place, which would make sense if she’d never met Evan…

  Blast. There was that swirling again.

  Ribbons, ribbons, ribbons!

  She took a deep breath. There. Much better.

  A scratch came at her door and Suzie swung it open without waiting for an answer. “Your sister and Lord Andrew are waiting for you, miss.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you, Suzie.”

  Grace snatched up her reticule and hurriedly slipped on her gloves as she rushed from the room. She really was excited for this garden party. The weather promised to be spectacular and she’d chosen her favorite day dress. It was made of flowing white muslin and was dotted with tiny pink flowers. The hem had a simple ruffle to it, and the bodice was snug enough to accentuate her average-sized bosom so that it looked a bit more ample than usual. She hoped they would play a game of lawn bowls or something similar that would give her the opportunity to display her assets as well as her talents. She might not be good at music or needlepoint, but she could certainly hold her own in a party game.

  “Good heavens,” Chloe said as Grace approached the foyer. “What happened to your eyes?”

  “My eyes?” Grace wrinkled her brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “You look as if you cried the night through.” Chloe grabbed Grace by the hand and led her a few paces to the mirror above the console. “Look.”

  Grace didn’t have to. She knew what she looked like; she’d simply tried to deny it. While she was getting ready for the day, she avoided looking into the mirror, or at least looking directly at her eyes. She could feel their scratchiness; she didn’t need to see them. But for the sake of saving face, she had to pretend…

  “Goodness, perhaps I’ve had a reaction to something,” she said, trying to sound surprised at her reflection. To be honest, they looked much better than she expected them to.

  “Maybe you should stay home,” Chloe suggested, much to Grace’s horror. “Get some rest.”

  “No!” She wouldn’t let the Duke of Somerset ruin her life—she wouldn’t miss out on a single thing because of his callousness. “I’m fine. No one will even notice in the shade of my bonnet.”

  Chloe eyed her skeptically. “Are you certain?”

  “Of course I’m certain,” Grace bit back. Really, Chloe did tend to overreact.

  “Shall we then?” Andrew said as a footman opened the door. “I’d like to get this over with.”

  Chloe swatted him on the arm. “One garden party won’t kill you, Andrew.”

  “We have no proof of that.”

  Grace followed them out the door, thankful the subject had shifted away from her and back to their playful banter. The walk to the Cavendish home was rather quick, seeing as they lived only a few streets away. Grace hung back, not wanting to engage in conversation, just in case it turned back to the topic of her puffy, red eyes. Rather, she took the time to take in the fresh air and silently will her eyes to turn back to normal. She had no way of knowing whether or not it worked, but no one said anything upon their arrival.

  She greeted their host, Mrs. Cavendish, a plump and jovial woman of about five-and-forty. She’d been married to the Earl of Stockinham until he perished in an accident in the Bahamas years ago. Many speculated that he didn’t really die, but only pretended he did so he might never have to return to England. At any rate, she remarried to a Mr. Cavendish, who, sources say, was her one true love. He would have to be in order for her to give up her standing as a countess. Her daughters were of age now, and Mrs. Cavendish was going to great lengths to see them married well. This garden party was just another feather in her cap.


  They were ushered to the back of the house and out to the garden. Small round tables, decorated with crisp white linens and pink bougainvillea, dotted the lawn. The other guests milled about in pale-colored clothing, clearly chosen especially for the occasion of a garden party. Some of the eligible young women twirled their white parasols while batting their lashes at the eligible young men, and a pair of butterflies even danced on the breeze right before Grace’s eyes.

  A little thrill rushed through her. It was all so beautiful and romantic—it would be the perfect place to fall in love, but not with a certain duke. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. No, this time, she would find a young man with light hair and bright features. Someone who exuded joy and humor, much like herself. Someone who didn’t make her stomach swirl with sickness every time his name entered her head.

  “Ratafia?” a footman asked, proffering a tray filled with drinks.

  Grace looked to Chloe for permission. Chloe’s nod came complete with a pitying smile. Clearly, she thought Grace was lying about having a reaction and assumed she truly had spent the better part of the night crying. Of course, Grace could be reading too deeply into her sister’s expressions, but if it meant she could have a glass of ratafia…

  “Thank you,” she said, plucking a glass from the tray. She put the drink to her lips and puckered when it met her tongue and made its way down her throat. Goodness, that was…different. Sweet and syrupy. She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not, but she had no choice but to drink it now, so she put on a smile and took another sip, being careful not to grimace this time.

  “I see your friend Lorinda over there,” Chloe said, pointing to a spot at the far edge of the garden.

  Grace followed her sister’s finger until her gaze landed on Lorinda, who immediately spotted her and began to wave her arms frantically, summoning for Grace to join her. She was sitting with several other girls, but she couldn’t tell who they were from this distance. She only knew Lorinda by her towering hair.

  “Go on,” Chloe said, pushing her forward. “Have fun.”

  Grace padded down the stairs and across the lawn to Lorinda’s table. Her friend greeted her with an enthusiastic hug.

  “Do you know everyone?” Lorinda asked, and then proceeded to introduce the four other women without waiting for an answer. “Lady Sophie, Miss Chatsworth, Miss Belinda, and, of course, Lady Alicia.”

  It took a moment for Grace to process this last name, even as the woman turned her head, which had been previously obstructed by her bonnet, toward her.

  “Everyone, this is Miss Clarke,” Lorinda finished. “Her sister is married to one of the Wetherby twins…Lord Andrew, is it?”

  Grace, who had been transfixed on Lady Alicia, opened her mouth several times, like a fish on land gasping desperately for air, before she finally answered her friend. “Yes. Andrew,” was all she could manage.

  “Then it’s Lord Michael who’s taken to Scotland?” asked Miss Chatsworth.

  Grace nodded. “Yes, with his bride, of course,” she added for good measure, just in case Miss Chatsworth had it in mind to go haring off to Scotland to try and win Lord Michael’s heart. She’d heard women had gone to great measures to attract the attention of a Wetherby in the past.

  “That poor woman!” Lady Sophie exclaimed. “Can you imagine being duped into marrying the wrong brother?”

  “I wouldn’t mind being duped into marrying a Wetherby.” Miss Belinda sighed heavily. “It’s too bad they’re all taken now.”

  Had they not heard the bit about her sister being married to one of them?

  A footman appeared with a chair and gestured for Grace to have a seat once he’d wedged it into the space between Lorinda and Lady Alicia. Grace sat, grateful to not have to hover above the table any longer.

  Small talk ensued, and thankfully shifted away from Grace’s relations to gossip about other members of the ton. She loved a bit of good gossip just as much as the next girl, but today she was having a bit of trouble focusing, what with Lady Alicia sitting right next to her. Goodness, she was even more beautiful up close. Those dark eyes were truly captivating, and even beneath her bonnet, one could see her hair was a thick, rich mahogany. The pieces that were not contained shimmered with strands of copper and gold in the sunlight.

  Grace glanced at her own blonde curls grazing her shoulders and felt inferior almost immediately. No wonder Evan had chosen Lady Alicia over her. She was a rare beauty, and so very poised and sophisticated. Of course, she was older than the rest of them by nearly ten years. Which also made better sense for Evan, since he was well past thirty. Grace fought the urge to be sullen over that fact.

  “What say we play a game, ladies?” Lorinda said suddenly, drawing Grace from her thoughts and back to the present.

  “What kind of game?” Miss Belinda asked, her tone wispy and curious.

  “A game of truth.” Lorinda scooted forward on her seat. “We all go ‘round the table and share one thing about ourselves no one else on earth knows about.”

  Grace held her breath for a moment, wondering how the others would react to the idea.

  “I’m not certain I have anything to tell,” Lady Alicia said.

  “Oh, of course you do!” Lorinda was clearly not going to let anyone get away with not playing the game. “We’ve all got a skeleton or two in our cupboard, haven’t we?” She winked at Grace, who suddenly understood what was going on. Her friend was hoping Lady Alicia would admit to her affair with the footman. Good heavens. Did she think Lady Alicia was a nincompoop? “Sophie, you go first.”

  Lady Sophie took a deep breath. “All right.” Immediately, her face turned a bright shade of red and all the other girls sat forward. “Well…I once…oh, goodness, am I really going to say this out loud?” No one answered her for fear they might cause her to lose gumption. “I once…touched myself.”

  A collective gasp went ‘round the table, and then they all burst into giggles and shouts of “You didn’t!” and “Heavens me!” Well, all except Lady Alicia, who smiled but clearly didn’t find the admission as humorous as the rest of them. Had she perhaps participated in the act herself? Or maybe she was highly religious and looked down on Lady Sophie for engaging in such a thing? Either way, she made Grace feel like a silly schoolgirl.

  “Miss Chatsworth, it’s your turn now,” Lorinda said when the excitement had died down.

  “I wish I had something more scandalous to share, but I fear nothing will be so scandalous as Lady Sophie’s admission.” Sophie turned pink all over again, poor dear. “I suppose the worst I’ve done is gone swimming in the nude when we were at our country estate. I sometimes go to the lake before anyone else is awake, strip down to nothing and plunge into the cool water.” Miss Chatworth put an elbow on the table and leaned her cheek into her hand, all the while wearing a dreamy expression. “I sometimes imagine that a handsome gentleman comes across me and is so taken with my beauty he tears his clothes from his body, runs into the water, and ravishes me right there, in the lake.”

  This time, a collective sigh went ‘round the table as everyone was caught up in the dream world of Miss Chatsworth. All except Lady Alicia, Grace couldn’t help but notice. She was impassive as a statue.

  Next was Miss Belinda’s admission that she’d once kissed a stable boy when she was a mere ten years old. He was apparently fourteen and she’d fallen madly in love with him and had taken him quite by surprise when she’d planted a very wet kiss on his lips one afternoon. Finally, Lady Alicia laughed. Apparently she had an affinity for stories about well-bred ladies kissing laymen.

  “All right, Lady Alicia, it’s your turn,” Lorinda said, delivering a swift kick to Grace’s ankle at the same time.

  Grace cringed at the pain, but thankfully no one seemed to notice.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t got any good stories for you ladies,” Lady Alicia said with a sweet smile. “I’ve led a rather boring life, to be truthful.”

  Grace moved her foot out of the way befo
re Lorinda could kick it again.

  “But you must have something you can share with us,” Lorinda persisted, leaning in closer until she was practically lying on Grace’s lap. “Nothing about that handsome duke of yours?”

  Lady Alicia gave a polite smile. “The Duke of Somerset is a private man, Miss Lorinda. I wouldn’t dare speak of him publicly. I’m sure you understand.”

  Fully chastened, Lorinda righted herself and cleared her throat. “Of course not,” she agreed through tight lips, clearly frustrated that the one person she wanted most to play along was the one person outright refusing. “Well, I suppose it’s your turn, Miss Clarke,” she said on a sigh leaden with disappointment.

  All Grace could think about was the kiss in the garden last night. It had been the most secret and intimate of moments in her entire life, yet it was one secret she would never share. Ever. To be truthful, it was all rather humiliating, seeing as he’d only kissed her to exact revenge on his fiancée.

  “Erm, well…let’s see…” she tapped her finger to her cheek, trying to be nonchalant even though her stomach swirled and her cheeks burned. “Goodness, well, I’m not sure…”

  Lorinda laughed. “Miss Clarke, are you having trouble coming up with something, or do you have too many secrets that it’s hard to choose which to share?”

  Everyone laughed with her, and Grace made a great show of joining in. But all she could think about was Evan…Evan…

  “Oh, I’ve got it!” she exclaimed, grateful for the sudden inspiration. She leaned in and everyone followed her lead. “My sister,” she began, glancing about to make sure Chloe wasn’t within earshot, “holds a private tea time with her friends…and a former woman of ill repute.” She waited until everyone had gasped, and then pressed on. “I used to stand outside the window to the drawing room and listen in on their rather scandalous conversations.”

  There. That ought to appease the girls. Though Chloe would have her head on a platter if this ever got back ‘round to her. She was forever warning her against gossip. Oh, dear. Please don’t let this get back to her.