Suttenberg turned to Hannah and opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t.”
Nothing he could say would excuse his behavior. First the kiss, then the spectacle he created. The duke had fooled society into believing he was the perfect Englishman, but he was a discreet womanizer with no sense of propriety.
Turning away, Hannah touched her mask to assure herself it remained securely in place and pushed through the dispersing crowd. She’d had enough of tonight’s ball. How could he have humiliated her that way? True, Mr. Hill’s words had been nothing short of unforgivable, but they were only words. Suttenberg had actually drawn a weapon. If anyone knew what had really transpired, Hannah would be the source of gossip for months. Alicia’s grand plans to launch Hannah into London society next Season would be tainted by tonight’s altercation. With luck, the guests would remain ignorance of the truth.
Hannah ducked into the servants’ stairway. Taking the main staircase would reveal to Suttenberg that she was a guest of Cole and Alicia’s. If she had her way, he’d never know who he’d shamed, first by kissing her, then by drawing a weapon over her.
She seemed to be doing a lot of hoping that nothing about tonight would be linked to her. Fate was seldom that kind.
Lifting her skirts, she practically ran up the stairs to the family wing, dashing past a startled maid, who flattened herself against the wall and stared at the intruder in the servants’ domain.
Safe in her room, Hannah rang for her maid and stood in front of the mirror, stripping off her costume jewelry. In the mirror, her flushed face stared back, surrounded by a halo of disheveled, limp curls. Outside her window, the clattering of carriages and hoofbeats kept up a steady rhythm as the guests departed. Not that it mattered. Even if the ball weren’t over, Hannah wouldn’t have gone back out there for all the tea in China.
Alicia burst in. “What happened?”
Hannah bit her lip as hot tears blurred her vision. “It was so humiliating. I can’t believe it.”
“Who were they? I thought the Musketeer resembled the Duke of Suttenberg.”
Hannah nodded. Though tempted to keep it all secret, she’d never hidden anything from her sister. “The pirate was Mr. Hill. He’d had too much to drink and became a bit aggressive. He—” She swallowed and turned away, too embarrassed by what had occurred.
“What did he do? Did he touch you?” Alicia’s voice rose in alarm.
“No. But he called me a social climber and a... a doxy.”
Alicia gasped. “That scoundrel. He will never be welcome in this house again. I vow I will publicly snub him.”
“Please don’t. I don’t want anyone to know or even suspect their fight was real, nor that I was the center of it.”
Calming, Alicia shook her head. “No, of course you don’t. What happened then?”
“The duke pulled out his rapier and demanded Mr. Hill apologize. And you know the rest.” She sank down onto the chair by her dressing table.
“His Grace is the absolute model of gentlemanly behavior. That he defended you comes as no surprise. But I cannot account as to why he’d draw a weapon at a social gathering. It’s so unlike him.”
“Yes, well, he isn’t the model gentleman you think he is.”
Alicia let out a long breath and actually smiled. “It was noble of him to rise to your defense. Still, if it weren’t for Cole’s quick thinking, the whole thing could have gotten out of hand.”
“I hope everyone believed it was staged.” Hannah hugged herself, still smarting over the duke’s forward behavior. Did he truly think because he was a duke that every girl would abandon her virtue?
Alicia pulled off her white wig and smoothed her hair. “The guests were still bubbling over about the realistic display as they said good-bye, and even congratulating me on having such entertaining floor show. No one seemed to think the lady in the goddess costume had any part of the show.”
“Good.” Too bad the sword fight wasn’t the only thing to have gone amiss.
How could she have been so foolish as to have allowed a man she’d met only that evening to kiss her? He probably thought her fast. Maybe she was. That kiss had been the most supremely perfect moment of her entire life. She’d never experienced such lovely pleasure, nor such astonishing sense of belonging.
At least she’d had the presence of mind to slap him. That should dispel any presumption that she could be coaxed into behaving like a hoyden again.
“You’re still overset, dearest.” Alicia knelt in front of her and drew her into an embrace.
Her sister’s touch and the strong emotions she’d experienced all evening collided. A sob wrenched its way out of her.
Alicia pulled away and looked at her. “Hannah, dear, what is it? Did something else happen?” She smoothed a stray strand back from Hannah’s face, her touch affectionate, motherly.
The entire story came pouring out of Hannah—all her bliss, her joy, her heartbreak that the kiss meant so little to him, his attempt to use his rank to justify his taking advantage.
Alicia listened without judgment. When Hannah finished talking, Alicia hugged her again. “Going with him alone into a room wasn’t the wisest course of action, but after what transpired between you two, I can’t say I blame you. And you’re right, a man like His Grace should have known better. Frankly, I’m shocked he’d treat a lady in such a way. Don’t worry any more about it, dearest. If you never want to see him again, I’ll make sure of it.”
“I don’t.” For the moment, she was content to let her sister take care of her.
“Then you shan’t. He’s probably figured out who you are by now, but duke or no duke, he cannot make you see him. If he calls upon you, we’ll turn him away. It’s as simple as that.”
Hannah let out an exhale, releasing her tension, and leaned against her sister, basking in her affection and the sense of order she exuded. All would be well. Hannah had survived her ball without tripping or getting tongue-tied, thanks to her false confidence due to her costume, and hadn’t brought public embarrassment to Alicia and Cole. How she’d ever survive London, she couldn’t say. But the Season was months away. Maybe by then she would develop some poise and grace without the aid of a mask. And she’d certainly avoid going into a room alone with a man ever again.
As she went to bed, the memory of Bennett’s arms around her, his mouth kissing her so tenderly, crept over her. If only it had been real. Having tasted such sweet pleasure made her long for more. The next time she kissed a man, she’d be sure his intentions were more honorable than the duke’s.
Chapter Six
Still wearing his Musketeer costume, Suttenberg stood in the study of Tarrington Castle, awaiting the arrival of Cole Amesbury, the Earl of Tarrington. No doubt, after the earl finished seeing his guests out, he’d return and demand an explanation. Suttenberg paced to the windows.
If Tarrington called him out, what would he do? He respected, even liked, the earl. He couldn’t fight him. Would an apology suffice? Drawing a weapon at a party was a serious offense. But then, so was kissing a lady he’d only just met. He couldn’t believe he’d done either. Had he completely gone mad? Perhaps his maternal grandfather’s Italian blood had finally taken over as he’d always feared it would.
He ran his hand over his face, remembering the well-deserved slap, and paced back toward the other side of the room. He’d always prided himself on doing everything exceptionally well, on exceeding societal expectations. He served faithfully in Parliament, did his best to care for his properties and tenants, achieved a fearsome reputation for fencing and fisticuffs, avoided gambling and excessive drinking, and never trifled with ladies’ hearts or their virtue. But tonight he’d broken every social and personal rule. Worse, he’d lost his Aphrodite.
Tarrington entered, eyeing Suttenberg as if he’d never seen him. “What were you drinking tonight?”
Suttenberg let out his breath. “I don’t even have that as an excuse.”
Tarrington s
at and laced his fingers together. “Well, at least now I know you’re human. For years I wasn’t so sure.” His lips quirked.
“I apologize for my conduct.”
The earl waved him off. “The guests think it was an act.”
“Thanks to your quick thinking.”
Tarrington inclined his head. “My wife considers the evening a success. Everyone will talk about it for weeks.”
“Still, I cannot excuse my temper.”
“What happened? Did he insult you?”
“He insulted a lady.”
Tarrington nodded sagely. “I have risen to the defense of many a lady, once to the point of dueling.” Frowning, he stared down at his hands.
Suttenberg didn’t pry. “It would have been better form to challenge him rather than draw a weapon.”
“No need to flog yourself—no harm done.”
“You truly aren’t angry?”
The earl grinned. “Angry? Are you kidding? Even if no one else knows it, I had the singular experience of witnessing the mighty Duke of Suttenberg in a rare moment of weakness. It may never happen again, so I’m relishing in it.” Chuckling, Tarrington got up and clapped a hand on Suttenberg’s back. “No one got hurt. No one became truly alarmed. The matter is closed.”
The muscles in Suttenberg’s shoulders loosened. At least he hadn’t offended Tarrington, and he didn’t have to face the prospect of a duel. Yet the earl’s words offered little comfort. He’d behaved badly toward his goddess. He had to find her and beg her forgiveness. And convince her to give him another chance.
Tarrington interrupted his thoughts. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
Suttenberg looked up. The earl watched him carefully.
Perhaps he’d gotten into a habit this eve of speaking frankly. “You wouldn’t happen to know the identity of a young woman dressed as a Greek goddess, would you? She had long, blond curls. That might have been a wig, I suppose, but it looked genuine.”
Tarrington cocked his head. “Shy?”
“No, she was very poised and a little flirtatious.”
“Hmm. I saw more than one goddess. My wife’s sister is blond, and she was dressed as a goddess, I believe. But she is painfully shy, especially at large gatherings. I can’t imagine her flirting.”
“Your wife’s sister? Miss Palmer, isn’t it?”
“That’s her. You’ve met her a few times, I believe.”
A few times? This morning, Miss Palmer did say something about strawberries. He nodded as if he remembered. “I met her this morning, didn’t I? Pretty little thing. Very young. I don’t believe she could be my Aphrodite.” He let out a long breath. “Would you ask the countess? I must find her.”
“Oh? A lady caught your eye, huh?” A brow raised, and the earl’s mouth quirked to one side. “I don’t recall you showing preference for a lady before.”
“No, ’tis true. But this one was different.”
“And she gave you no clue as to her name?”
“None. And then I made a fool of myself and kissed her.”
Tarrington choked. “You kissed her?”
Suttenberg put his head into his hands, surprised that he’d confided in Tarrington, and reliving the shame all over again. “Truly there must be something wrong with me. I don’t blame her for slapping me. By the time I caught up to her, the pirate was talking to her. Apparently she spurned him, and then he grew insulting. And I snapped.” He raised his head, expecting a condemning stare.
Tarrington’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “I’d like to meet the girl brave enough to slap the Duke of Suttenberg. Of course, you were in costume, so...”
“Ah, no. I removed my mask after I kissed her. She knew my face and called me by name before she slapped me.”
“You do have a problem.”
“I have several, in fact. I must come to terms with my own behavior. I must find a girl whose name and face I do not know, and I must convince her to give me another chance.”
Tarrington nodded. “I’d only known my wife a few moments before I became equally obsessed.”
Footsteps neared, and the door flew open. The Countess of Tarrington burst in, eyes snapping and chest heaving. The men leaped to their feet as the countess marched up to Suttenberg, wearing an expression of outrage.
“You kissed her?” she demanded.
Taken aback, Suttenberg could only nod.
“You scoundrel!” She raised her hand, and for the second time in his life—both in the same night—a lady slapped the Duke of Suttenberg.
Chapter Seven
Sitting in Alicia’s sun-drenched parlor, Hannah glanced at the clock and sipped her tea while Alicia played hostess to her neighbor, Mrs. Potter. They rhapsodized about the triumphant ball two nights past, and all the delights of the evening, sprinkled liberally with speculations on who had worn what costume and who had been seen in whose arms.
At this, Mrs. Potter stopped and glanced at Hannah as if remembering her presence, before she returned her attention to Alicia. “Well, you know what I mean, of course, Countess.”
Hannah nearly rolled her eyes. Just because she was newly out didn’t mean she knew nothing about the foibles and passions of men and women. And after the ball, she had a better understanding.
Mrs. Potter smiled at Hannah. “And how are you, my dear? You didn’t overtax yourself?”
“No, ma’am. I am quite well.”
“I do worry about you. When you had to leave my dinner party a fortnight ago with a sick headache, I really was concerned. Young ladies with delicate constitutions cannot be too careful.”
Hannah’s hackles rose at the insinuation that she was so sickly neighbors must worry for her. She tried to sound gracious. “I’m quite well. Thank you for your concern.”
“You know, my great aunt suffered from the sick headache, and she found it helpful to use leeches once a month. You might try that.”
Nearly choking on her tea, Hannah gasped. “Oh, er, thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And don’t exercise too much. My aunt simply couldn’t tolerate going for walks.” Mrs. Potter tutted. “She never had children, poor dear.”
Hannah’s stomach dropped at yet more proof that she’d never know the joys of motherhood.
Alicia broke in. “I keep a careful eye on her, as well, to be sure she doesn’t overdo it.”
Mrs. Potter said hurriedly, as if she feared she’d somehow offended her hostess, “Oh, yes, I’m sure you do, Countess. I’m sure you do. Well, I must be off.”
After they bade farewell, Hannah let out a sigh of relief. Just to be contrary, she turned to her sister. “I’m going for a walk. A long one.”
Before Alicia could reply, Hannah went to her room and changed into a sturdy pair of walking boots and took up a wide-brimmed hat. She carefully wove a hatpin into her hair to keep it in place. After donning a spencer against autumn’s chill, she went outside. Meandering through the gardens didn’t satisfy today; a good ramble through the country called to her. Forgoing the driveway, she took a circuitous route past the gardens out toward the river leading to the lake. The river, slow-moving and sluggish, gurgled in the autumn stillness. A songbird trilled overhead. She strolled along the river, following it toward the lake, passing the bridge over which the main drive crossed.
After a bend in the river, she came upon the lake. It spread out before her in golden shimmers. Swans floated on the surface, leaving V-shaped wakes. Wild geese crossed the sky against the azure backdrop. She walked along the edge, as waves lapped against the shore. The solitude filled her with peace. But she couldn’t stay much longer or she’d be late for dinner. Reluctantly, she turned back and followed the river toward the castle.
As she stepped over the path strewn with rocks and blanketed with a damp carpet of leaves, her foot slipped. She sat down hard. Pain splintered up her leg.
“Oh bother!” Her clumsiness usually originated from nervousness in the presence of ot
hers, but she certainly had her share of ungraceful moments in private, as well.
Sitting awkwardly on the damp ground, she carefully righted her legs. She tried to climb to her feet, but pain in her ankle stopped her. She paused, resting, and tried again to put weight on that foot. This time the pain lessened. Perhaps she could walk out the soreness. At least she hadn’t fallen in the water, which would be more her usual style.
Her ankle throbbed worse with each step. She found a boulder and sat, careful to keep her ankle straight. The song of the river filled her ears, and she watched it ripple toward the lake, momentarily forgetting her discomfort and her desire to return home. Gold and red leaves fluttered from above to land on the surface and ride the current like tiny boats. The shadows grew long, and the temperature cooled. Alicia would worry if Hannah didn’t return home soon.
Hannah stood and continued. Each step sent waves of pain up her leg. At least she could walk, if a bit slowly. If she followed the driveway, she’d have the smoothest path and the shortest distance back to Tarrington Castle.
A horse’s hoofbeats approached from behind. A lone rider astride an enormous stallion cantered around the bend in the narrow driveway. He rode beautifully, like one born for the saddle. Hannah moved to the side of the road to allow the rider plenty of room to pass without bringing the frightening animal too close.
The rider slowed to walk next to her. “Are you in need of assistance, miss?”
The Duke of Suttenberg’s smooth voice drew her gaze. He sat astride, looking at her like she was some kind of waif. Her cheeks heated. Not him. Not the duke who’d kissed her like she was some kind of tart.
With any luck, he’d go away and take his big, scary horse with him. “No, thank you.”
He leaned in as if to peer at her around her hat. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
What a question! She lowered her head to use the brim as a shield. However, he never seemed to remember her the other times they had been introduced, so the odds of him knowing her face or name now seemed unlikely. At least he didn’t mistake her for a servant today.
Timeless Regency Collection: Autumn Masquerade Page 13
