by Darcy Burke
“I most certainly do,” Lady Satterfield said. “Can you move in immediately?”
Nora couldn’t speak for a moment. “I’m…overwhelmed by your faith in me.”
“You possess a lovely spirit as well as resilience and intelligence. I am not at all concerned you will repeat the mistakes of your past.”
Joy and relief merged, and Nora couldn’t contain her smile. “I shan’t.”
“Excellent. We shall need to move quickly since my ball is in just a few days, and you will need to attend, of course.” Her gaze dropped to Nora’s horribly outdated traveling costume. “I gather you’ll need a new wardrobe?”
Nora winced. “I’m afraid I haven’t needed fashionable clothing in recent years.”
“That’s quite all right, dear. I am rather inspired by this project—not to say you’re a project, but I daresay you are.”
Nora couldn’t possibly be irritated with the woman’s assessment, not when her gray eyes were sparkling with infectious enthusiasm. “It is my good fortune to be your project. Thank you ever so much for this opportunity.”
“Excellent. After tea, we shall embark on our first shopping trip. I’ll have Harley send for your things.” Lady Satterfield shook her head, smiling. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll show you upstairs to your room and give you a thorough tour of the house. We have an extensive library downstairs—you did say you like to read, didn’t you?”
Everything was happening so fast, but then that was good, wasn’t it? Nora had needed a new situation and quickly at that. Now she had one.
She would be companion to a kind and generous countess. She would have a new wardrobe and access to a fabulous library. So she would never be married or have a family of her own.
That was fine, since she’d abandoned that dream long ago.
Titus arrived ten minutes before his stepmother’s tea was due to begin. Harley, the Satterfields’ typically unflappable butler, blinked, registering a moment’s surprise at seeing Titus.
“Your Grace, Lady Satterfield will be delighted to see you. She is already in the drawing room.”
“Thank you, Harley. I’ll see myself up.” Titus climbed the stairs to the first floor and entered the drawing room, where his stepmother was speaking with a maid.
When Lady Satterfield saw Titus, her eyes lit, and her lips spread into a broad smile. “Kendal, you came.”
She came toward him, and Titus bussed her cheek. “I told Satterfield I was coming. Didn’t he inform you?”
“He did, but I wasn’t going to believe it until I saw you for myself.” She looked up at him and brushed her hand across his shoulder. “You had a speck of lint.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I know events like my tea today are not of your particular interest.”
He glanced around the drawing room, which the maid had just vacated. “Where is your companion?”
His stepmother had sent word that she’d hired someone. “She’ll be down directly. You’ll like her, I think.”
Titus had no intention of getting to know the woman well at all, but supposed he must at least be polite for his stepmother’s sake.
Lady Satterfield’s gaze moved toward the door behind Titus. “Ah, here she is.”
Titus turned. The companion was not at all what he expected. He’d anticipated a middle-aged woman with graying hair, perhaps wearing spectacles and a lace-edged cap. She at least ought to have been unremarkable, but this woman was the exact opposite. In fact, Titus might have expected to see her at the Cyprian ball he’d attended last night, if she’d been dressed quite differently. Instead, she wore a charming day dress that only hinted at the curves cloaked by the gentle drape of the fabric. But it was her eyes that captivated him, at once sharply inquisitive and lushly inviting. He would’ve spoken with her last night and perhaps even employed her.
However, this was neither a Cyprian ball, nor was he in the market for a mistress any longer.
His stepmother’s voice drew him briskly and sharply back to the present. “Kendal, allow me to present my new companion, Miss Eleanor Lockhart.”
As stunned as he’d been by the woman’s appearance, he was aghast at her identity. He was also distinctly uncomfortable. Which he should be. She’d been utterly ruined by one of Titus’s former inner circle, the idiot Haywood.
Led by Titus, their select group of bucks had gallivanted all over London, doing whatever they damn well chose. Titus had set the tone—gambling, racing, and romancing women had been among his chief pursuits. He’d thought nothing of flirting with and perhaps stealing a kiss or two from a young miss. It had been a foolish practice, as were most of their activities, and in retrospect, Titus was shocked he’d never been caught. But then he hadn’t been as stupid as Haywood, whom Titus had encouraged in his endeavor to lead some poor young woman into an embrace. That poor young woman had been Miss Lockhart, and they’d been caught.
Haywood, coward that he was, hadn’t risen to the occasion and offered for her. He’d needed a moneyed bride, and so he’d skulked off to the country to bide his time until he could try again. Three years later, he’d snagged a wealthy wife, while Miss Lockhart had been left with nothing, and worse—no chance for anything.
Masking his recognition and discomfiture, Titus offered a benign smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Lockhart. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” It was no lie—they’d never been formally introduced, despite his awareness of who she was.
Lady Satterfield pivoted to her young and distractingly attractive companion. “Nora, this is my stepson, His Grace, the Duke of Kendal.”
Nora. A strong but feminine name. It suited her.
Miss Lockhart dipped a curtsey. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace.”
Her behavior was completely appropriate—necessary even—but he didn’t want her showing him deference. Which was silly since he expected that from everyone else. “The honor is mine.”
She looked at him, her brown eyes the color of his favorite tawny port, and he had the sense no one had said such a thing to her. And why should they when she’d been a pariah? He wanted to ask what had happened to her since that unfortunate event. More importantly, he wanted to know why she was here.
But he didn’t.
At that moment, Harley announced the first guests, and Lady Satterfield went to greet them, taking Miss Lockhart with her.
Titus watched them go, then turned and went to stand near the window closest to the corner away from the entry point, away from where people would congregate…just away. He fixed his gaze on the street below so that he could survey the arrivals. Why, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if he cared who attended. Plus, his brain was completely focused on Miss Lockhart and her present circumstances.
The event that had caused her ruin may not have been directly his fault, but he should at least have inquired after her welfare.
He stood near the window for a good half hour. As usual, people cast glances in his direction, but no one approached him. Nor did he approach anyone else. His stepmother would perhaps chastise him for his aloofness, but only for a bit. She knew he preferred solitude, even if she didn’t understand it.
Since his father had died and Titus had inherited the title, he’d thrown himself into his duty, as both a landowner and a member of the House of Lords. He enjoyed spending time with his steward on his estate and with his secretary when he was in London. Beyond that, he had no interest in friendships or relationships of any kind—save the mistress he took for the Season. He supposed it was odd that a duke had no use for Society’s entertainments, but he’d spent his youth playing the role of dissolute rake to perfection and preferred never to look back.
However, the presence of Miss Lockhart was forcing him to do just that, and he didn’t like what he saw.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Satterfield approaching. Titus pivoted slightly. Satterfield was one of the only people he accepted into his inner circle.
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��You came,” Satterfield said, echoing his wife’s earlier statement.
Titus kept his focus on the street, but darted a look toward his stepfather. “You and my stepmother have so little faith in me.”
“It isn’t faith, my boy. It’s just that we know you.” He smiled briefly. “Genie says you’ve been standing over here brooding the whole time.”
“I’m not brooding. I’m enjoying the only company I can tolerate.”
“That doesn’t speak well of any of us, does it?” Satterfield said this with humor, provoking a small smile from Titus.
He glanced at his stepfather. “Present company excluded, but then you haven’t been here the entire time.”
“Gads no, but then I can barely tolerate this sort of thing either.”
“So why are you here?”
Satterfield pivoted so that his back was to the window and he faced the room at large. “Same reason as you, I expect. I love your stepmother, and I want to support her. Did you meet Miss Lockhart?”
At the mention of her name, Titus had to reassess his behavior. Perhaps he had been brooding after all. “I did.”
“She and Genie get on quite well. I wasn’t certain this would be a good idea, but I have to admit, it seems to be working out.”
Titus was glad for that—no one deserved happiness more than his stepmother. She’d accepted him as her own son the moment she’d married Titus’s father and hadn’t treated him any differently once she’d finally had her own child. The loss of that child, Titus’s sister, was only one of the reasons Titus was eager to see her happy. He’d do anything for her, in fact. Anything except take a duchess.
Maybe someday. Just not now.
“And did your evening find a satisfying end?” Satterfield asked.
It was his polite way of asking if Titus had secured his mistress for the Season. He had. Isabelle Francis was incomparably beautiful—or so Titus had thought last night. However, she now seemed a trifle…colorless next to Miss Lockhart. Her hair was pale blond, while Miss Lockhart’s was a vivid auburn. Isabelle’s eyes were an incandescent blue—beautiful—but simple, as if she were only capable of a studied range of emotions. Miss Lockhart’s had possessed a feral quality. Somehow he’d detected a fierce independence buried in their depths.
Titus turned his head to look at Satterfield and to see if he could catch a glimpse of Miss Lockhart. She stood on the other side of the room, engaged in conversation—a vibrant addition to the mundane tea. Indeed, she didn’t look much like a companion at all. Weren’t they supposed to sit out of the way and observe?
“Kendal?”
Feeling as though he’d been caught stealing a biscuit from the kitchen when he was six, he snapped his attention back to his stepfather. “Yes. Last night proved most favorable.”
Today, however, was proving strange. Miss Lockhart was provoking him to feel things he hadn’t in years. First was his inconvenient attraction to someone who wasn’t his mistress. He hadn’t been beleaguered with such nonsense in an age, and he’d be damned if he’d start now. No, that nuisance could be thwarted or at least ignored.
Second, however, was the memory of who he used to be. How, once upon a time, he might have flirted with Miss Lockhart, perhaps stolen a kiss in a dark garden, and never given her another thought.
He inwardly flinched, despising that callow young man. He caught his stepmother looking toward them meaningfully.
“Genie’s giving us the evil eye,” Satterfield said. “I’d best go and smooth her feathers. I’d ask you to join me, but I know what your answer will be.” He clapped a hand on Titus’s shoulder. “Never you mind. She’s just happy you’re here.”
Titus watched Satterfield join the group, then turned his gaze back to the street where it was safer. However, despite his intentions, he found himself sneaking looks at Miss Lockhart several times throughout the tea.
And that simply would not do.
Chapter 3
Nora’s heart had been racing at the outset of the tea this afternoon. This was her first official foray into Society, and she’d worried about how people might react when they saw her again. So far, however, things had gone swimmingly. In fact, she hadn’t expected Lady Satterfield to include her quite so…robustly. As a paid companion, she’d expected to help serve tea or ensure that no one was excluded from conversation. Instead, Lady Satterfield had introduced her to everyone who arrived. It had felt—just a bit—like her first Season.
Except she was ten years older and far wiser. She hoped.
Lady Satterfield interrupted Nora’s thoughts by introducing her to a new arrival, Lady Dunn. Past middle age with dark gray hair swept into an elegant style, Lady Dunn raised her quizzing glass and surveyed Nora from the top of her head to the tip of her shoe. “I remember you, gel.”
Nora braced herself for what might come next. So far no one had come out and said whether they recalled who Nora was. And Nora didn’t remember Lady Dunn.
Lady Satterfield opened her mouth, but Lady Dunn spoke first. “It’s good that you came back.”
It was? Nora felt a surge of relief and smiled.
Lady Dunn lowered her glass. “Come and sit with me for a few minutes.” She led Nora to an empty settee.
Nora glanced at Lady Satterfield, who nodded encouragingly.
Lady Dunn sat on the pale gold brocade and patted the space next to her.
Nora dropped down beside her. She had the sense Lady Dunn wanted to impart some bit of wisdom or advice.
“You’re a brave young lady,” Lady Dunn said without preamble. “I recall precisely what trouble you found however many years ago that was, and I can only hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
Nora wasn’t sure what to make of the woman’s candor. On the one hand, it was comforting to have things out in the open, but on the other, she felt more vulnerable than she had all day. “Yes, my lady. Quite.”
Lady Dunn nodded her head in one sharp bob of acknowledgment. Her gaze surveyed the room, then arrested. Her lips parted. “My goodness. The Forbidden Duke.” Her tone was soft, almost breathy.
Nora followed Lady Dunn’s line of sight and ended up at…the Duke of Kendal, Lady Satterfield’s stepson. She looked at Lady Dunn. “The who?”
Lady Dunn blinked at Nora as if she’d grown a second head. “The Duke of Kendal. Surely you know that, since you are Lady Satterfield’s companion.” She pursed her lips together. “However, I suppose you wouldn’t hear what’s said about him from his stepmother.”
Nora shouldn’t want to hear what was said about him at all. She was trying to behave in the most exemplary fashion possible—no gossip, no scandal. Still, she was dying to know why he was forbidden.
Their brief meeting had intrigued her. He was devastatingly attractive with black hair and piercing green eyes, and he’d looked at her with…interest. Or something. There had been a hint of heat in his gaze, which she’d recognized from her experience with Haywood. She ought to run screaming in the other direction, but she sensed that he possessed something Haywood hadn’t: self-control. “Why is he called that?” She immediately wished she could take the question back. She’d always been far too curious—and unable to keep her curiosity to herself.
Lady Dunn leaned forward slightly, displaying a keen interest in this topic. “Because he doesn’t engage in Society, and he doesn’t socialize. He holds himself apart. He isn’t seen, he isn’t approached, and he isn’t spoken to.”
He sounded like the quintessential Untouchable. She sneaked a look at him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his thick hair waving back from his wide forehead. She could only see his profile, but his chin was square and his lips supple.
Supple?
“Why is he here, then?” Despite her brain telling her to cease pursuit of this topic, she couldn’t seem to stop.
“I was hoping you could tell me, dear,” Lady Dunn said with an edge of humor. “Perhaps he’s on the hunt for his dance partner for Lady Satterfield’s ball. It’s the only e
vent he goes to during the Season, and he always dances just once—the first dance—with a very special, and very lucky, lady.”
Since Lady Dunn was so keen to share information, Nora gave up trying to quash her interest. “Special how?” she asked.
“She’s invariably someone in need of attention—a spinster, a widow, the youngest daughter who’s been forgotten after her elder sisters were married. His selection of her elevates her position.”
He might be an Untouchable, but he sounded like a bit of a hero too.
Nora darted another look in his direction and nearly slipped off the settee. He was staring right at her, and she swore the heat in his gaze had intensified, as if he’d spent the last hour simmering over by the windows. Nora felt distinctly warm. And not uncomfortably so.
He turned his attention back to the windows, breaking their eye contact. Nora dropped her gaze and studied the small flowers on her dress in an effort to right her suddenly sideways equilibrium.
Until she’d caught him looking at her, she would’ve said he seemed to have no awareness of the people in the drawing room. Perhaps he should be called the Aloof Duke instead. Or maybe even the Arrogant Duke. That wasn’t fair. She had no idea if he was arrogant. Perhaps he had a fear of social gatherings or people in general. Perhaps he was really the Skittish Duke. Or the Paranoid Duke. She smiled to herself, thinking she could amuse herself all day coming up with alternate names for him. The Detached Duke. Oh yes, that might fit quite nicely.
“Why are you smiling, gel?” Lady Dunn asked.
Startled from her ridiculous reverie, Nora blinked before turning to look at Lady Dunn. “I’m just enjoying myself. Are you? Is there anything you require?”
“Not at all. It’s time for me to be on my way. I should like to be the first to share the news of the Forbidden Duke’s appearance, and I’ve several more calls to make.” She held out her hand. “Help me up, dear.”
