The Devilish Duke: Book eight in the Regency Romps Series

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  “Are you sure that’s what she said, Cassie?” said her brother, looking far from convinced, but Miss Scott nodded enthusiastically.

  “Indeed she did, and I was as surprised as you, but now that Devenish has explained to me his insult, it makes sense that she would wish to make amends.”

  Devenish shook his head. “Are you determined to see the best in everyone, my dear? No matter what?”

  “Everyone asks me that,” she replied, as though perplexed by this. “I’m perfectly horrid to Oscar, you know! Ask Ferdy!”

  “Our brother deserves it, though,” said Mr Scott with a shrug. “Heaven help me, Cassie, but will you just go ahead and apologise to His Grace for your behaviour last night? You may have given the Fitzburghs the benefit of the doubt, but you did not extend that to Devenish.”

  “There’s no need for her to apologise,” said Devenish, but Mr Scott’s words had stung him in a tender area.

  Miss Scott, however, seemed determined to argue with her brother. “No, for Devenish was perfectly capable of berating me in public if he had wished, and besides, I still don’t think I was wrong. Why else would he have come to apologise to me?”

  “Because he’s concerned that he upset you, you widgeon! Good grief, Cassie, you can’t go about talking to peers of the realm as though they were just Lacey or me,” said her brother, looking exasperated. “Especially not a man with the nickname Devilish.”

  “I am still here,” said Devenish, but was not surprised that the siblings ignored him.

  “Don’t be such a bore, Ferdy! Firstly, Devenish has explained why he wielded his power and would not do so over something so silly as a disagreement. Secondly, he has been a mostly perfect gentleman, which you cannot deny.”

  “Mostly?” repeated Devenish, bemused and still ignored.

  “And lastly,” continued Miss Scott, “why should I worry about such a silly nickname as Devilish when your own nickname was Hellfire Ferdinand?”

  “How the devil do you know about that?” blurted out her brother before humour began to eat at his righteous indignation.

  Cassandra moved to study her reflection in the mirror, ignoring the spotted silver as she tucked some stray hairs back into place.

  “As though your friends didn’t tell me everything.”

  “I have never had siblings,” commented Devenish to no one in particular, “and right now I am not sure whether to be grateful, or disappointed.”

  Miss Scott, recalled to his presence, moved back to the sofa to take a demure pose. “I would not exchange this brother for anything. He is far too easy an opponent most of the time, but at least he occasionally presents me a challenge.”

  “You’ll end on the gallows, my dear,” sighed her brother, resting his forehead in his hands.

  Devenish made a pointed glance toward the book Ferdy had dropped

  “As may well you, Mr Scott.”

  “Don’t be silly – if Ferdy hangs for anything, it will be for causing my Uncle Edmund to have a heart attack. Now, will you share a repast with us, Your Grace? Our cook makes the most delicious cakes and pastries, if you care to indulge.”

  “How can I resist such an offer,” said the Duke with an engaging smile. “Pastries in particular are a weakness of mine.”

  Miss Scott rang for the butler and requested refreshments. Her brother, apparently intrigued by the politics of the Duke, quickly sank into conversation with him that started with giving the right to vote to all men in England, but somehow quickly devolved to a rant about the shocking neglect of non-Roman history by antiquarians.

  Devenish, for his part, not only managed to maintain pace with his host’s arguments, but also found that he enjoyed their battle of wits. Miss Scott stayed unusually quiet, but she smiled between bites of pastries while the two men argued about who had built the earthworks at Maiden Castle.

  “How are you not a Don at Oxford, or Cambridge?” demanded Mr Scott when he could come up with no arguments to His Grace’s theories. “Damn if you’re the most intelligent person I’ve conversed with since Lacey or Cassandra!”

  “High praise for your sister indeed, if you feel she’s more knowledgeable than the great and the good of Oxford,” said the Duke, smiling in a way that he hoped would indicated his words were sincere.

  Mr Scott snorted. “They’d do a damn sight better if they took in women of Cassie’s intellect instead of the spoiled sons of unexceptionable peers, I have no compunction in saying. I detest the opinion of the mediocre that education is not the great equalizer. I hope to see the day when merit is the basis of success, although I doubt I will live that long.”

  “I should introduce you to Mrs Reid,” commented Devenish. “I suspect you will have much in common with her views on social reform. I believe that she, too, hopes to see a day where education is applied on merit, not birth.”

  Miss Scott gave a sad chuckle. “A laudable goal, I am sure, but for now I would settle for women to have control of their own fortunes and fates.”

  The corner of Devenish’s mouth kicked up. “I would expect no less of you, Miss Scott. Remind me to introduce you to Lady Loughcroft, Lady Gloucester, and Lady Colbourne. I’m sure they will all be enchanted with you.”

  “Are you bamming me again, Your Grace?’ she replied, laughing as she shook her head. “Good grief, could you imagine me moving in such exalted circles? Have we not established that I’ve not the least idea how the Ton works? Uncle Edmund would have conniptions at the mere idea!”

  “I’ll write to him about it at once,’ said her brother, which only made her laugh harder.

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort! Please, Your Grace, do not joke about such matters, for ten to one we’ll have hatched a scheme of some sorts before the week is out, and then be terribly disappointed when it does not come to fruition.”

  Devenish regarded her with a quizzical frown, trying to understand her sudden reluctance to meet new people.

  “You were keen for me to introduce you to the Lexboroughs, if I recall correctly, and have charmed both Lord Arthur and his future wife.”

  “Anna hardly counts for she’s a dear, though Lord Arthur would not have said two words to me were he not in love with her,” she replied with a truth he couldn’t deny. “And I only wished for the Duke of Lexborough to meet Ferdy, so they could discuss archaeology. I was not expecting you to throw us into your set, I swear!”

  “We’re not mushrooms, Your Grace,” added Ferdy. “And as glad as I am for your condescension towards us, we expect nothing more from you or the Duchess.”

  Devenish was on unfamiliar ground. Never in his life had anyone refused an introduction from him, or sought to reassure him that they expected nothing but his company.

  It should have made him feel better. Had he not complained loudly to his intimates that no one offered him their friendship without expecting his aid in some matter? Had not every woman he’d shown interest in, including Henrietta, wanted more from him than to just be friends?

  So why was it irritating him that these unconventional siblings refused to believe he was sincere?

  “Excuse my stupidity, but why would I not introduce you to my friends if I see fit?”

  The Scotts shared a confused look, and silently elected Cassandra to speak for them both.

  “Because we are nobodies, Your Grace! I know Uncle Edmund and Oscar like to think that the Scott name is somehow worthy, but the only peer we can lay claim to is through marriage, four generations back, and something of a loose screw to boot!”

  He placed a hand to the back of his neck, his cravat feeling tight about his throat for no real reason.

  “And why would that prevent our friendship?”

  She laughed as though Devenish were the one fresh from the country.

  “Nothing can prevent our friendship, Your Grace! But that hardly means you will wish to promote our connection to the world!”

  He put down his glass with rather more force than was necessary, feeling that icy gr
ip creep around his heart that had attacked him the night before.

  “Miss Scott, Mr Scott; allow me the strength of character to stand fast by my friends, no matter their circumstances in rank and fortune. However, if you do not feel that I am the type of man you can trust to honour his word, I can understand your reluctance to be introduced to those I greatly esteem. Now, I see that I have already stayed beyond the fashionable half hour, and must make my way to my next engagement. I will pass along your acceptance to both Her Grace and Lady Serephinia look forward to conversing with you again.”

  “Devenish!” exclaimed Cassandra, looking so adorably confused that for a moment he wanted to pull her into his arms and apologise.

  “I say, Your Grace, we meant no offence,” added her brother, looking just as confused but considerably less adorably. “Please, sit down, and let us apologise.

  “There is no need,” replied Devenish, trying to smile but fearing it might look like a sneer. “Perhaps there was a miscommunication between us, but I really must be going. No doubt I shall see you at the Pump Room again in the next day or two, but if not, then I look forward to seeing you at my mother’s soiree.”

  He left without another word, pausing only a moment at the doorway to collect his hat and gloves from the butler, knowing full well he was being rude but unable to think of an alternative until his thoughts were put back in order.

  He continued along the road at a clipping pace, and the knowledge that his reaction was disproportionate to any offence caused was doing nothing to settle his temper. No offence had been intended; indeed, it was a compliment in many ways. The Scotts desired his friendship for him alone, and not the social cache that his patronage would bring them.

  They did not know he was half in love with Cassandra, or had considered marrying her the moment she’d shouted at him for being a clumsy oaf.

  They did not know how protective he was of his few friends, or how desperate he was for the Scotts to like them as much as he.

  He cursed loudly, enough to startle a street-seller into staring at him with his mouth hanging open in shock.

  If anyone else had been suffering such torment, Devenish would have laughed at their stupidity and told them to apologise to the girl, confess their heart and ask her for her hand. Instead, he was doing his damndest to hold onto his irritation, no matter the cost, and without any real understanding as to what he was so angry about in the first place.

  “Devenish! Please, wait up!”

  The woman’s voice echoed down the street. He paused, glancing over his shoulder to see Miss Scott, an unfastened bonnet held to her head with one hand while a hastily thrown cloak was gripped in the other. Her spectacles were slipping down her nose, so she had to hold her head at an awkward angle to stop them from falling off.

  He couldn’t help the smile spreading over his lips as he watched her unrefined rush after him. Any sense of ill usage evaporated away like the mist at dawn, for the worry and concern on her face convinced him that no offence had been meant to him.

  She drew to a sudden halt, her cloak dropping to the floor as she put out her bare hand to rest over his heart rather than risk barreling into him. Without thinking, he placed his own gloved fingers over the top.

  “I’m so sorry for implying your word had no worth; I swear it was not my intention! It is very nice that you want to introduce me to your friends, and I am exceedingly grateful, even if I did not show it!”

  He smiled, thinking how beautiful she was with an untied bonnet clasped to her unruly hair. With his free hand he took a gentle hold of her spectacles, and moved them back up her nose.

  “Apology accepted, my dear Cassie,” he murmured.

  A frown creased up her face as she blew out a snort of frustration.

  “Devenish, do be serious, and let go of my hand, if you please!” she said, looking impatient.

  “What if I do not please?” he asked, tightening his grip just a touch.

  The look she threw him would have suited any society Diamond putting down the pretentions of a young greenhorn.

  “If you insist on teasing me then I will be forced to stomp on your boots. It won’t hurt very much, but it is likely to leave a mark in the polish, and your valet will never forgive you.”

  He was surprised into a bark of laughter, and released her hand in the process.

  “Poor Ember! Lord, he’d weep with rage if you dulled his blacking.”

  “I have no wish to upset your man, for I’m sure he has more than enough difficulty in his life working for you. Now please, Devenish, will you stop being so doltish and listen to my apology?”

  He bent down to retrieve her cloak from the ground, as she seemed to have completely forgotten that she’d dropped it.

  “Apology for what?”

  “You know what I’m apologizing for!” she said, allowing him to sweep the cloak about her shoulders.

  “It’s just that there’s rather a lot of things you need to apologise to me for,” he explained.

  The delightful creature looked outraged.

  “I do not! I only had to apologise for being rude to you!”

  “You’ve been rude to me every time we’ve spoken.”

  “I meant just now, when I implied that your word was not reliable.”

  “You also implied that on the day we met,” said Devenish, spreading his hands wide to show he was informing her of this fact with the deepest regrets.

  “Nonsense,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

  Her bonnet was still askew, and threatened to fall off at any moment. Devenish found himself fascinated with it, and with the mop of hair beneath that was a breath away from tumbling all about her shoulders. She looked delightfully bedraggled, and he idly wondered why the women of the Ton spent so much time trying to look perfectly bored, when Cassandra Scott managed to enchant him without any effort at all.

  “You did,” he replied, “but I daresay you were correct. Do you forgive me?”

  “Wait, you’re the one supposed to be forgiving me,” she said, a frown causing creases to appear between her eyebrows.

  “Considering my advice to the general population is never to apologise for a perceived wrongdoing, may I suggest that you take me at my word and we cease to argue?”

  “But we’re not arguing,” she replied. She took a deep breath and was obviously about to start listing all the reasons he was incorrect, so Devenish let his impulsivity rule.

  He dipped his head and kissed her briefly, his lips no more than brushing against hers, right there in the middle of the street.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her mouth. In the process her bonnet fell free, fluttering to the ground and landing in a muddy puddle. “Oh! My cap!”

  “My ego is wounded beyond repair,” said Devenish wryly, leaning down to rescue Cassandra’s now-filthy bonnet. “Now do you forgive me?”

  “It wasn’t your fault I dropped my hat,” she replied, taking it from him to inspect the damage. “I should have tied it on properly, after all.”

  Devenish laughed and shook his head at the same time. “Good grief, Cassie, does nothing I do shock you?”

  She paused in her attempts to rub some dirt off a ribbon to meet his gaze.

  “Why should I be shocked at your outrageous pranks? I daresay that it’s not at all the thing to kiss in public, but you’re hardly about to compromise me, or entrap yourself in marriage. Do you think I can repair this, or will I need to buy a new one? I could cover the marks with some cherries, I suppose, but only if the straw is not too damaged.”

  Devenish put a hand to his face and rubbed his temples.

  “Cassie, are you not in the least concerned about a relative stranger kissing you?”

  The look she flashed him suggested she believed herself to be talking to an incompetent child.

  “But you’re not a stranger – well, I suppose you are in many ways, but it doesn’t feel like that, does it? You’re more like a friend I’m still getting to kn
ow, and besides, that wasn’t a proper kiss, now was it? It was the sort of mark of affection I’d expect from an uncle.”

  “Uncles do not go about kissing their nieces on the mouth!” exclaimed Devenish.

  Cassandra rubbed at her nose thoughtfully before re-straightening her spectacles.

  “I suppose you are correct; I only have the one uncle, you see, and he would as leif pretend I didn’t exist as he would go about showing public displays of affection. Very well – a friend, then.”

  “I dearly hope that none of your friends kiss you, either – or do you mean to tell me that Dr Lacey has done so?” said Devenish, surprised at the tremor of anger running through him.

  Cassandra just gurgled with laughter. “Poor Lacey! He would never risk becoming legshackled to me for the sake of a lark!”

  “And you think I would?”

  She smiled again, placing one hand on his arm and giving it a light squeeze. “Dearest Devenish! You’re a Duke, so no one in their right mind would think you were seeking anything but friendship with a girl like me!”

  There were so many ways to answer that question, so many that would destroy that wondrous naiveté, that it was a moment before he could trust himself to speak.

  “Well, my mother will no doubt think I have behaved shockingly towards you, and demand I make up for my poor manners. May I escort you for another brief stroll? I enjoyed our walk back from the Library this morning, and would appreciate the opportunity to talk more with you. Alone.”

  “I wish we could, but I really should be getting back to Ferdy,” she replied, looking wistful.

  “No matter! I am sure we can arrange something soon,” he said, disguising his disappointment as best he could.

  He was rewarded by another of her radiant smiles. “Thank you for understanding. He hasn’t said a word, of course, but I know yesterday took much of his strength, and he doesn’t like to be alone for too long. But then, you understand better than most that I cannot leave Ferdy, just like you would not leave Her Grace.”