Greetings. Bows and curtsies all around. A few mild flatteries from Mr. Fitzallen, along with a most charming smile. Tea arrived and they all sat and sipped.
“Will you gentlemen be attending the assembly?” Mama asked after some small talk.
“Regrettably I will not be staying that long,” Mr. Fitzallen said.
“It is only a few days away,” the duke said, as if his brother’s departure was news to him.
“A few days too many.” He turned his attention on Marianne and her mother. “I will return to my wife tomorrow. My brother does not understand how a woman in the family way might grow anxious if left too long.”
“Goodness, yes,” Mama said. “How pleased you must be.”
“Ives’s wife is not so burdened. Since her nose remains in books, she will not miss him, so he will still be here,” Aylesbury said. “We will go together, Ives. It has been some time for both of us.”
Ives apparently was the family name for Lord Ywain.
“In my brother’s case, the reason he has not attended county events in all these years was for the best of reasons, as I am sure you know, Mrs. Radley,” Ives said. “However, if I am still at Merrywood, I will accompany him to this assembly, should he dare it himself.”
Mama reacted with puzzlement at his allusion regarding the hiatus. Then she must have understood, because her face went slack, her eyes widened, and a blush spread. Marianne itched to demand further explanation. She would have to badger Mama later.
“Would you like to see the garden?” the duke asked. “Gareth, let us escort the ladies there by way of the gallery. Gareth is a renowned art expert, Miss Radley. He can talk for an hour about any painting we own, but I promise not to allow him to bore you too much.”
“My mother is fond of gardens. She is currently remaking the one at my uncle’s house.”
“You must tell me all about it, Mrs. Radley,” Mr. Fitzallen said, offering his hand to help Mama rise.
Mama appeared too bedazzled to move. What woman would not, with the attention of such a beautiful man showering down on her? Mr. Fitzallen had not flirted, or done the slightest thing to cause Mama’s reaction. He merely was a man as handsome as the devil, with a smile that had Mama breathless.
She collected herself, and accepted his escort out of the drawing room. Lord Ywain drifted along in their wake. Aylesbury stepped into place alongside Marianne.
“I am pleased you called,” he said.
“I cannot imagine why. The three of you must have better things to do than entertain us.”
“Not many. You would be surprised at how uneventful it is here. It quickly grows very boring.”
She would not be surprised. Leisure was the product of privilege, but an unending supply of it could be burdensome. That was one reason she took such joy in caring for Nora. It gave her life a purpose that would be difficult to find otherwise.
“Is that why you lived in London for so long?” They strolled the long gallery of paintings. Up ahead, Mr. Fitzallen stopped occasionally to point something out to her mother. Mama’s gaze tended to gravitate to the face of the man, not the canvas under discussion.
“In part. Perhaps it was one third of the reason.”
“And the other two thirds?”
Mama and Mr. Fitzallen had paused again. The duke did, too, and looked at her. “Once my brother Percy inherited, this house ceased being a home to me. Or to Ives either. We did not rub well together, Percy and I, and once he became the duke, the lack of mutual sympathy increased.”
“Once he became lord, did he lord it over the rest of you? I think it is probably a rare man who does not succumb to the temptations of power, even with family members.”
“How perceptive you are. You know the human heart very well for one so young.”
They moved on, slowly. More slowly than Mr. Fitzallen up ahead. The distance to Mama stretched longer with each step. Marianne looked at the paintings as she passed, but she did not have time to really examine any of them.
“You could make this house less boring,” she said. “You could entertain London friends. You could invite some neighbors for dinner on occasion. You might even open the estate grounds to the county for a day, the way your father used to do. Perhaps with a little time it would become a home again, and one that you enjoyed.” She tried to quicken their path, to no avail. Aylesbury’s steps remained ever so slow.
At the end of the gallery, Mr. Fitzallen opened a door, chatting with Mama all the while.
“I may try that. We will plot a fair for the county in the spring. You can help me.”
We? “I— Surely there is someone here—”
Without so much as looking back, Mama followed her escort out of the gallery.
Aylesbury stopped again.
“The lady of the house usually directs the servants in such things, and I do not have one. What do I know about the sort of food to be served, or the decorations? Your advice will be essential. We do not want everyone later saying it was a poor affair.”
Marianne kept one eye on the gallery, where Ives still lingered, studying a painting. “I am sure you know ladies more suited to the task than I. I have never managed a household, or been responsible for entertaining.” She gestured broadly down the gallery. “My mother, however—”
“I am sure you would be successful in every way. I can tell when a person has good taste.” Aylesbury took her hand in his. “I would be both pleased and honored if you gave your help in this.”
She stared down at her hand, then up at him, then at the distant, distracted figure of Ives. How careless of Mama to leave her like this.
With one finger on her chin, the duke coaxed her gaze back at him. He looked deeply in her eyes. A little panic swelled in her chest. She could not look away.
“Do I have your agreement, pretty flower?” he asked.
Agreement for what? Oh, yes, helping with that county event. “I suppose so.”
“I am so glad.”
A smile. A subtle one. Devilish, confident, and dangerous. She seemed surrounded by haze now. The gallery barely penetrated her consciousness.
Did she step forward, or float? She moved, that was certain, as the duke gently pulled her toward him while he eased back, toward the wall. Now she could not see the gallery even if she wanted to, because a very large statue blocked her view of it.
Warmth on her face, as his hands cupped her head. Her mind absorbed what he was doing too late. By the time she realized his intention, his lips had already pressed hers.
Who knew being naughty could be so sweet? Who would guess the Wicked Duke would kiss so gently? He lured her into compliance, as if he touched the parts inside her that wanted to be kissed because he knew they were there. He made love to her mouth much as he had to her hand in the boat.
It was the first real kiss she had ever had, and his lips on hers felt absolutely perfect. Wonderful. Its effects on her were a revelation too. Such a small thing, a kiss. Yet it fascinated and vanquished her. A titillating pleasure lapped through her that defeated her conscience when it belatedly emerged.
I shouldn’t, but . . .
He kissed her more fully.
I must stop this at once. Only I do not want to . . .
He drew her into an embrace.
This is scandalous, and yet . . .
His kisses became more ardent, less gentle. His hands caressed her back and hips, evoking wicked thrills unlike she had ever experienced, or even guessed could be felt.
I must not, I should not, I . . .
His tongue urged her lips apart. His tongue began a slow dance inside her mouth, shocking and mesmerizing her at the same time
“Lance, I am going out to the garden. Why don’t you allow Miss Radley time to see it too? I am sure by now the art has begun to bore her.” Ives’s voice crashed through her euphori
c daze. It did not sound far away at all.
Aylesbury stopped kissing her, but he did not release her for a few moments. Then he gave her a look such as she had never seen in a man’s eyes before, and set her away from himself.
“If you insist, Ives. However, we have both discovered new things about this old Greek god here. His entire stance appears different from this angle. Don’t you agree, Miss Radley?” He stepped away and into the gallery’s long hall.
She took a deep breath to collect herself, and stepped out as well. “Very different. Far less languid, and much more angular.” She forced herself not to touch her hat, to see if those kisses had set it askew.
Ives stood fifteen feet away. He smiled at his brother, then her. He turned on his heel and walked away.
She felt herself again. Enough to continue walking down the gallery. Astonishment at her own behavior blotted out most of her thoughts. Except one.
She had been bad, and the duke had been badder, but . . . being kissed by him had been glorious.
* * *
“What pleasant ladies.” Gareth offered his view of the visit while Lance sat with him and Ives out on the terrace, watching the sun set below the treetops of the forest.
“Mrs. Radley appeared captivated by you,” Ives said. “So much that she did not notice the absence of her daughter.”
“She realized it right before Miss Radley emerged from the house. Did the paintings make Miss Radley dally in the gallery, Lance? If she likes art, perhaps she and Eva would get along well,” Gareth said.
“She was not admiring art. She was with Lance.” Ives puffed deeply on his cigar. “Damned good thing I interfered. Two more minutes and . . .” He finished with a long glare at Lance.
He was not going to explain himself to Ives, especially Ives at his most sanctimonious. Besides, right now, he could not even explain himself to himself.
He had intended a stolen kiss, no more. A minor bit of naughtiness. He had assumed that would shock her. Scare her. It would set the foundation for his ensuring she thought him too bad to consider.
Instead she had allowed it. Her breathless acceptance had been fuel to his own heat. Where they were and who they were ceased to matter.
Damned good thing indeed that Ives had interfered.
“As I explained, we were availing ourselves of different views of the statue. From the side, the rear, and so forth.”
“From the sounds I heard, you were not studying that Greek god’s ass. I never knew the acoustics in the gallery were so good.”
Gareth grinned. “Are you saying there was some etcetera taking place, Ives?”
“Only of the mildest sort,” Lance said.
“Well, having done my duty today, and allowed you the privacy to shock Miss Radley—”
“She did not look shocked to me,” Ives muttered.
“—having procured you that privacy, I will make my departure in the morning,” Gareth said.
“I need you to stay until after the assembly. Who is to distract her mother that night if you are not oozing your charm?”
“Ives will do it. I must leave.”
“Ives will not do it,” Ives said. “You will have to employ your talent for disarming ladies and manage it on your own, Lance. I will accompany you to the assembly, so that I can stop you from thrashing someone when you are insulted, as you are sure to be. I will not distract Mrs. Radley by any means, however, least of all charm.”
“You have both become much less useful since your marriages. Also very staid. I hope, if I ever wed, that I do not lose my sense of adventure and fun as you both have.”
“If you are not careful, you will wed very soon.” Ives stubbed out his cigar, emphasizing each word with a little smash. “Scaring off Miss Radley to the point where she turns down a proposal from a duke may be harder than you think.”
“Or require some very shocking behavior and revelations,” Gareth said.
“I can manage both, if necessary.”
“Of course you can,” Gareth said. “It is Ives who doubts your plan, not I.”
* * *
Upon returning home from the call on the duke, Marianne went looking for Nora. Guilt as much as love sent her to her cousin’s chamber.
To allow Aylesbury to kiss her was scandalous. Her lack of resistance had been disgraceful, and she did not pretend that her inexperience excused her. That she now did not regret it nearly as much as she should reflected far worse on her character than the act itself, however.
She should be mortified, not only due to compromising her own virtue, but also because that kiss had been most disloyal to Nora.
To her surprise, Nora was not in her chamber. A crisp breeze entered through the open window. An open window! Panic burst through her heart. She rushed to the window and forced herself to look down on the ground below, terrified she would see her cousin’s broken body there.
Relief poured out when the view showed nothing of the sort. Nora stood on the terrace, however, with her gaze fixed on the gardens. Abruptly she started walking, right into the plantings.
Marianne hurried down to the terrace. She could not see Nora from there, however. The garden was far too formal to obscure a person easily. Where could her cousin have gone?
In a far corner of the garden, the door of a greenhouse opened, and Nora walked out carrying a potted plant. A man stood at the threshold to the greenhouse, watching Nora walk away. He saw Marianne notice him, and came toward the terrace, following Nora.
“Look what Mr. Llewellyn gave me, Marianne.” Nora admired her little plant. Her lips turned up at the edges while she showed it off.
Marianne stared. It was the first time in three years, she was sure, that she had seen her cousin smile.
“I am going to find a place in my chamber for it.” Nora carried the pot into the house.
The man sauntered forward. He was a big fellow with dark hair, and quite young. His kind eyes and ease of movement appeared at odds with his size. “She has been sitting here by day a lot, Miss Radley. It seemed rude to ignore her. I hope I was not out of place in speaking to her at times.”
“No, not out of place. She spoke back?”
He smiled softly. “A little. Not much. She finds the gardening interesting, I guess. I said yesterday that if she wanted a bit of that for herself in her chamber, there were pots to be had. Today she just showed up when I went in the glasshouse, and asked for one.”
“I thank you for your kindness to her. She is not—that is to say, she is—” How to describe Nora?
“I understand. I had an aunt like that. Lost in herself, she was.” He walked to the terrace steps. “Best I get back to those pots now. Good day to you.”
Marianne turned to go back in the house, only to see Mama at the French doors, mouthing something through the glass. Marianne shook her head and pointed to her ears to indicate she could not hear. With an expression of exasperation, Mama came out to join her.
“We must talk.”
“Indeed we must. The most amazing thing just happened. I saw Nora smile.”
“Oh, tosh, Nora, Nora, always Nora. We have bigger things to discuss. Come with me.” Mama led the way to a bench against the wall that afforded some privacy.
“We must plan how we disclose our visit today. Do we let it be known before the assembly, or wait until that night? The duke is sure to acknowledge us there. Goodness, he may even ask you to dance.”
“I think I may not go.”
“Why ever not? Do not say it is because you want to keep your cousin company here. I will suffer a fit if you do.”
She wished Mama knew everything about the duke. She wished she had not promised Uncle Horace to keep that history a secret.
“He kissed me today, Mama.”
Her mother frowned and drew back. “Who did? That gardener I saw talking to you? I wil
l have him sent—”
“The duke did. Aylesbury.”
Her mother’s mouth fell open and stayed that way for a ten count.
“Where? When?”
“In the gallery, after you and Mr. Fitzallen left.” Marianne covered her face with her hands. “I am sure his other brother knows too. He was still there, in the gallery. I think he guessed what happened.”
Mama’s face flushed deeply. She grasped Marianne’s hand in hers. With her other hand she pressed her bodice, over her heart. She appeared ready to swoon.
“This is outrageous.”
“Yes. I blame myself for not seeing—”
“Scandalous and bold.”
“Very bold. I am so embarrassed—”
“Such behavior is not to be condoned.”
“I am very sorry, Mama—”
Mama squeezed her hand. She cocked her head. Suddenly she appeared most calm and very thoughtful. “Then again, he is a duke.”
“What has that to do with anything? From what I have heard, he is prone to such outrageous, bold behavior.”
“Being a duke does not excuse him, of course. However, it does make some difference.”
“I do not see how.”
Her mother turned to her and took both her hands in her own now. “Let us say at the assembly he dances with you. That will only make eligible men all the more interested. If the right one ends up proposing, that little kiss in the gallery will be seen by you in a different light.”
It was not a little kiss, but she did not think it wise to explain that. Nor should she mention that this had not been the first kiss of any kind.
She definitely would not admit she had enjoyed both examples of bad behavior on Aylesbury’s part.
Mama stood. “We will let his interest in you be seen at the assembly. We will not discuss our call at Merrywood before that, so it is all the talk that night. And you will most certainly come, Marianne.” She walked toward the house.
“He will think I am encouraging him. That I welcome his advances.”
“Oh, daughter, do not be a fool. Must I be blunt? If he chooses to toy with you for a brief spell, it is worth your while to suffer a few kisses. He is a duke.”
The Wicked Duke Page 9
