Evading the Duke

by Jane Charles

  Of course, she never would. His Grace had her too well trained, or was she simply too afraid of her father to go against his dictate?

  Not that Sam would let that minor inconvenience stop him. As he once obsessed over the painting, he now obsessed over the model. He had to have her or at least know her better. Until then, he’d not be able to move forward or even contemplate returning home. In the end, he may be satisfied with what he learned and be able to hide the painting away. Or he would be taking Lady Jillian back with him to Barbados, whether her father approved or not. And, the only way his future could be determined was if he pursued the lady who haunted his dreams.

  Jillian forced a smile as she approached her brother and Mr. Storm’s younger sisters. “Please excuse us. I find I must return home.”

  Without waiting for a response, she turned toward her brother’s phaeton. She needed to get out of there before Mr. Storm caught up to her.

  Tears stung her eyes, but she held them in check, while her pulse raced and her stomach churned. For the first time in her life, a gentlemen really wished to know her. Court her, not her father or the hope of gaining favor from His Grace.

  But what if it was all a lie?

  What if there was something he wanted and this was all a ruse?

  What did she even know about him, other than the queer sensations in the pit of her stomach, the heating of her blood, the desire to know how he kissed?

  Everyone wanted something. Could she trust that he simply wanted her?

  “What the blazes is wrong with you?” Henry hissed as he helped her up to the seat.

  “I just need to return home.”

  He hopped into the driver’s seat and took the reins. “It’s more than that. You’re as pale as a ghost and are shaking like a leaf in a storm.”

  Her chest was tight and Jillian was finding it difficult to breathe. Anxiety washed through her, and all she wanted to do was find her bed in a dark room.

  “Tell me what has you so upset,” Henry demanded as he moved into traffic. “If Storm has insulted or hurt you in any manner, I will see that he pays.”

  Jillian turned to him. “You have it all wrong,” she cried.

  “Then what is it?”

  “He wishes to court me.”

  Her brother didn’t react immediately. After a moment his shoulders relaxed, and then he tilted his head as if in contemplation, and then he smiled. “Good for him.”

  “He knows Father will never approve.”

  “Somehow I don’t believe Storm will let that stop him, and he has my full support.”

  Chapter 8

  Samuel paced behind the settee in the parlor, waiting. After questioning most of the staff, he found a maid who had a sister who worked in the home of the Duke of Eldridge. Meg’s duty today was not to see to the dusting in the downstairs rooms but to find out where Lady Jillian would be tonight. She’d been gone nearly an hour. How long did it take to ask a simple question?

  “Can we go to a ball tonight, Mother?” Hannah asked.

  The teacup rattled as Mother set it back into the china saucer. “Are you so anxious to marry?”

  “I am two and twenty,” Hannah reminded her.

  “A child,” her mother dismissed.

  “I believe you’d already been married and safely delivered four children by the time you were the same age as Hannah,” Nate pointed out as he entered the room.

  “A much different time,” his mother dismissed. “In this modern age, there is no need for ladies to marry fresh out of the school room.”

  Samuel hitched a brow. By the age of the crop of debutants this year, it appeared the rest of Society did not hold with Mother’s opinions.

  “Besides, I would have my daughters close. There are plenty of bachelors in Northumberland, and they will marry one of them.”

  Deborah frowned and slouched in her seat.

  “Then why come to London at all?” Nate demanded.

  “For a holiday, of course.”

  “A holiday spent in a townhouse in Mayfair with an occasional walk in Hyde Park,” Tabitha grumbled. “We can walk at home.”

  The butler hurried into the room, his eyes wide. “It’s His Grace.”

  That wasn’t exactly how someone was to be announced.

  His mother’s tea cup and saucer clattered as she tried to set it on the table.

  “Which His Grace?” Samuel asked calmly, assuming it was Danby but fearing it was Eldridge come to warn him away from Lady Jillian. Not that he intended on obeying any duke, but Sam would suffer through a visit, then do as he wished.

  “Me!” The Duke of Danby strode through the doorway.

  His mother appeared as if she might have an apoplexy at any moment by the terror on her face.

  “To what do we owe this visit, Your Grace,” Nate asked.

  “Would you care for tea, Your Grace?” Hannah asked, the only female in the room who retained her composure.

  “No, thank you.” He turned his attention, better described as a glare, on Samuel’s mother.

  She sank back against the cushions.

  “You, Madam, will cease hiding in this house as if the world is full of monsters.”

  He shook his cane at her. She pulled even further back as terror filled her eyes.

  “You’ve not presented your daughters anywhere since you scurried from the Heathfield al fresco. They will attend the Bentley ball this evening even if I have to come here and drag them there myself.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “You do not want me to be forced to do so.”

  “Of course not, Your Grace,” his mother stammered out, and Samuel bit back a grin.

  Then Danby turned on him, waving that blasted cane in his direction. “And you will attend me this evening.”

  “Me?” Sam had other plans, and they did not include his great uncle. “What of Nathaniel?”

  “I have other plans for him.” Danby poked Sam in the chest with his cane. “Dress for a ball, and I will retrieve you tonight.” The duke glared back at his mother. “It will also allow me to make sure your mother is doing as ordered.” Danby then turned to Nate and pulled a pouch from the inside of his suit coat. “Deliver this to Kirkland House. My donation to the good work they do.” He turned and marched from the room, leaving them all in stunned silence.

  As the front door clicked, his mother burst into tears.

  As was expected, Jillian stood next to her father in the ballroom of the Earl of Bentley, saying nothing and holding herself in reserve as her father greeted one person after another while her mind wandered, as it did more and more of late.

  She’d had a day to come to terms with the words of Mr. Storm. After much thought, she decided to trust that he would never reveal her secret. She had to trust someone at some time in her life, and even though she only met the gentleman a few days ago, she decided to trust him.

  There was no reason for it, of course. She’d known others much longer and wouldn’t confide what she had for breakfast to them, let alone that she’d posed for scandalous portraits to be painted. Yet Henry believed she could trust him.

  Maybe it was because she wanted to believe that there was a gentleman who simply wanted her for her. The very idea thrilled Jillian to her bones. She’d tried to think of reasons why Mr. Storm would wish to gain her father’s favor, but nothing came to mind. He was already wealthy and landed, even if he didn’t have a title. So, he must truly wish to know her, odd as that was to believe.

  Not that any of it mattered. Father would never allow her to look in his direction, let alone speak his name or consider walking with him. But at least she had the comfort of knowing that she’d been wanted. Something she had never thought to experience.

  Father stiffened by her side, and she glanced to where he was looking. The formidable Duke of Danby was striding toward them with Mr. Samuel Storm by his side. Why would His Grace wish to speak with her father? The two men hated each other.

  Danby stopped in front of them. “Eldridge,” he gre
eted.

  “Danby,” her father grumbled then sent a look of disgust to Mr. Storm.

  Why were they here? Had Mr. Storm asked Danby to intervene on his behalf? Goodness, this would not go well.

  “My great-nephew, Mr. Samuel Storm.”

  Jillian’s eyes widened. Storm was related to Danby? He never mentioned the connection, not that it would matter to her father any more than it mattered to her.

  “My younger sister’s grandson,” he explained.

  Then Danby glared at Mr. Storm. “Well, take Lady Jillian for a turn about the room or something. Eldridge and I have matters to discuss.”

  Her father’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. What was she supposed to do?

  “Lady Jillian.” Mr. Storm offered his elbow.

  Jillian’s pulse pounded, fear of her father if she took his arm and the excitement of being with Mr. Storm warred inside her.

  Then, as if an imp prodded her, Jillian threw caution to the wind and slipped her hand into the crook of Mr. Storm’s arm and allowed him to lead her away from the two imposing dukes.

  “I promise, I did not put my great-uncle up to this. I had no idea what his intentions were when he demanded I attend him this evening.”

  “I can’t find it in myself to mind.” And she didn’t. In fact, she was thrilled to her toes. Her father was most likely fuming, but he hadn’t kept her from walking off with Mr. Storm either.

  She glanced back at the two dukes. Both frowned as they spoke to each other. She could practically feel the tension from here.

  “Forget them,” Mr. Storm said just as the chords of a waltz began. “Might I have the honor of this dance?”

  “It’s already promised to Lord Lowery.”

  The corner of his mouth tipped. “He is not here and I am. Dance with me?”

  She couldn’t help but return his smile. “Yes.”

  “Ah, there it is.”

  “What?”

  “A bit of rebellion in those lovely blue eyes. It’s much better than before.”

  Jillian was feeling rebellious. She wanted to dance with Mr. Storm. She wanted to dance the night away in his arms, not the unpleasant Lord Lowery, whom her father has determined would be a good match for her.

  “Which functions will you be attending?” he asked once they were waltzing about the room.

  “I do not know. Father rarely informs me until I’m required to prepare for whatever he deems worthy of our attendance.”

  “There is a way to get word to me. Once you know, of course.”

  Jillian bit her bottom lip and stared up into his eyes. “How?” Her father would murder her and then lock her in her chamber if he ever learned.

  “Agnes, an upstairs maid, are you familiar with her?”

  “My Agnes?” What did he know of the servants in her household?

  “Her sister is a maid in my family’s home. That is how I learned where you’d be tonight.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “It’s not a coincidence you’re here?”

  “I had every intention of coming here until Danby demanded my attendance. Had he wished to attend another function, I would have refused so I could be here.” He glanced back at his great-uncle. “I’m not his servant to answer to his every demand regardless of what he may believe,” Mr. Storm bit out.

  “He wanted you here on purpose? To what end?”

  “Unfortunately, I know all too well what my great-uncle is up to.” Mr. Storm glared at Danby as they passed. “I’ll deal with him later.”

  “How would Agnes get a message to you?”

  “Because Meg’s new position in our household, is to sit in your kitchen until Agnes reports on your activities for the day.”

  “What if she’s caught? Agnes could be sacked? And what of the other servants in the kitchens. How can you trust they won’t report to my father?”

  “I believe you have far more support in that household than you realize.”

  Jillian frowned. Was it true? She barely spoke to the staff, not since her personal maid had betrayed her. She wasn’t unkind, she just no longer shared any of herself.

  “So, will you do it? Tell Agnes where you will be so that I can be there as well?”

  Her heart began to hammer in her chest. Did she dare?

  “Don’t let fear win,” he whispered.

  Jillian smiled. She was tired of being afraid and unhappy. “Yes.”

  He grinned.

  She could meet him every day, but nothing would change. Father would still never approve. But this might be the only excitement she would ever have.

  Chapter 9

  As the waltz ended, Sam had no choice but to relinquish Jillian back to her father. His Grace glared at both of them.

  “You were to dance with Lord Lowery,” he reminded her.

  “I did not see him,” Lady Jillian replied obediently.

  “Had you been standing with me, where you belong, you would have noted him approach me.”

  Jillian cast her eyes toward the floor. “I’m sorry, Father.”

  “You will make it up to him by allowing him to drive you in the park tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  At least Sam now knew where she’d be, not that he could pursue her in the park while with Lord Lowery, but Sam would think of something before then.

  “Come.” Danby barked at Sam as if he were a pet dog. The only reason he obeyed was because he and Danby needed to come to an understating.

  “Thank you for your company and the waltz, Lady Jillian.” He bowed and took his leave, following his great-uncle out of the manor, stopping beside him as he waited for his carriage to be brought around.

  “Do not ever do that again.”

  “What?” Danby demanded.

  “Manipulate my life.”

  “You wanted to dance with her. I arranged it. You should be thanking me.”

  “I do not need your assistance or that of anyone else in my pursuit of Lady Jillian. You will cease interfering in my life.”

  Danby turned fully toward Sam. “Do you know that Eldridge had the audacity to claim that you are not good enough for his daughter?”

  Now that was a conversation Sam wished he’d been privy too.

  “You. Grandson of a Whitton. The blood of my family is not good enough for the likes of his daughter?” Danby stomped his cane. “I never liked that dandiprat, and I never will. If you were wise, you’d give up on Lady Jillian too because you are far too good for the likes of her.”

  Sam had seen Danby angry in the past, but never this enraged. “She is the daughter of a duke,” Sam pointed out.

  “With a shameful past,” Danby returned.

  Sam took a step back. Did his great-uncle know about the paintings?

  Of course he did. Danby knew everything.

  “Her past is not what matters,” Sam informed His Grace. “Nor does your opinion on the matter of Lady Jillian. And further, I will not stand by while you manipulate my life and determine who I can or can’t marry.” He took a step forward. “I am not one of your grandchildren that you can order about, so do not call on me, summon me, or track me down again, as I will evade you at every turn. Do we understand one another?”

  “Bah!” Danby turned as the carriage pulled forward. “Don’t come begging for my help when you find you can’t manage this on your own.”

  “Trust me, Your Grace. I won’t.”

  Silence! And the longer it continued, the more nervous she became. After father told her last night that Jillian would ride with Lord Lowery today, he’d said nothing further to her. Surely, he was going to blast her for dancing with Mr. Storm, but he hadn’t.

  Even now, he sipped his coffee while he read the papers, his breakfast dishes having been taken away. As she was finished eating as well, Jillian, quietly as she could, pushed her chair back with every intention of sneaking away and bringing no attention to herself.

  The papers rustled as her father lowered them. “I’ll have you know that I infor
med Danby last evening that his great-nephew is not to contact you again.”

  She swallowed and waited.

  “As if I’d consider a mister,” he said with disgust. “Even if Storm held his brother’s title of Earl, I’d not consider him since he’s relate to that ass.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “You will stay away from him.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Do not be a fool, Jillian. He’ll use you, as others have in the past. You will not shame me again.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Now, go on. Lowery will call at three. You will be in this evening because I need to be elsewhere. Tomorrow you will attend a picnic at the Thorndykes with your brother.”

  “Thorndykes?”

  “It’s been arranged so that Thorn’s wife can meet his friends and others in Society in a less formal setting. Your brother will be taking you because I have no interest in meeting some vicar’s niece.” He picked up the papers. “Now run along and cease bothering me.”

  Jillian didn’t need to be prodded and quickly left the breakfast room and returned to her chamber. Agnes swept the hall just outside her door. She glanced up, question in her dark brown eyes at Jillian’s approach.

  Her stomach tightened. Did she trust her? She’d trusted her personal maid before and had been betrayed.

  Jillian opened her door and paused. As frightening as it was, she was going to take the risk. “Agnes, could you attend me please?”

  “Right away, Lady Jillian.”

  Jillian stepped into her room and the maid followed, closing the door behind her.

  “Do you know where you’ll be so I can tell my sister?”

  Jillian bit her lip as fear clawed at her heart. “You will not tell my father?”

  “Heavens, no. It’s about time you did something for yourself and not be ordered around by the likes of him.”

  Jillian blinked, surprised at her candor.

  “Lady Jillian, if I might speak boldly.”

  “Go on.”

  “We’ve known you since you were a wee lass. You were such a delightful child. And, we know what happened, and saw the change. Your father has not done right by you, and if he has it his way, you’ll never be happy.”