by Jenn LeBlanc
“Rox!” came an impatient female voice from in front, pulling his attention.
“My precious Saorise, have I been remiss?” He smiled and leaned over her hand, gazing into jeweled eyes much the hue of his own. He stood, wincing at the great mane of riotous red curls that swept down her back and drew attention to her like bees to honey. He remembered countless hours of her screaming as her mama, Bridger Trumbull’s wild Irish bride Fallon, tried to force it to behave—to no avail. Obviously her mane had won out in the end, to the delight of many and the consternation of many more. But Saorise, pixie though she was in stature, was well protected within the circle and none would hear any talk of her improper locks.
“Yes, you have ignored me too long. Mama said we weren’t to visit this summer until Season’s end. How will I survive?” she complained.
He grinned at the sweetest of his cousin, one who held a special place in his heart. “I have something special planned for the end of this Season. Have no fear, my precious Saorise, you will have your time with my Friesians.”
She beamed a smile as light as the air, contented. Her sister Maebh stood silently next to her, watching Gideon carefully. Her smooth ginger locks were pulled up in an intricate twist on her crown.
“And you, Roxleigh, what brings you tonight?” Quintin asked.
“Well, I do, of course,” Perry cut in.
Gideon grimaced, then nodded once.
The dowager countess pressed into the exceptional circle no one else dared breach, curtseying and catching Gideon’s attention.
He stiffened; the time had come for him to pay his penance for his earlier insolence.
“If you will excuse me, I am expected to dance,” he said with a brilliant smile.
Every one of his cousins inclined their heads in surprise as they watched him move away.
Lady Alice Gracin stood amidst a group of young girls who had just been introduced to the ton. They surveyed the room, looking for the eligible peers their mothers had listed and forced them to memorize in order of rank and respectability. There were two footnotes to the list. The first was the Duke of Roxleigh, who held one of the most powerful titles in the kingdom but was also known to be an angry recluse, stern and unforgiving, who rarely traveled away from his estate. His brother the viscount was the other footnote. A devoted rake, he had no intention of ever marrying, instead openly dedicating his life to the pursuits of pleasure and ruination of innocents the country over.
She gasped when they were both announced at her come-out. Looking up to her grandmother at the entrance, her breath caught. They were stunning—tall, dark hair, and perfectly turned out. She shuddered, putting her arm around her friend Bethany to steady herself. “Oh my, but aren’t they a vision,” Lady Alice said.
“A vision is all they are, Alice. Remember what our mamas said. The first is impossible, the second impermissible!”
Alice frowned. Of course they were, but that was irrelevant. How could either of the amazingly beautiful brothers be an acceptable match for her, with her gangly freckled limbs, fiery tangle of curls, and sea-foam green eyes? She was most categorically an unconventional sight.
She smiled as she saw the duke conversing with his cousins, the wild Irish sisters Saorise and Maebh included. It was due to Saorise’s unconventional mane of bright curls that hers were currently left unnoticed. She continued to survey the room with Bethany, picking out the other bachelors.
Her eyes paused on the duke’s flock again, noting how the crowed parted about him, much like an immovable boulder among rapids. Her grandmother approached the group and spoke with him. Alice’s jaw dropped and she squeaked, her nails digging into Bethany’s arm.
“Alice!” Bethany yelled. “That hurts!” But Bethany saw the terrified look in her friend’s eyes and followed her gaze, directly into the face of the Duke of Impossible.
Alice was pinned by his annoyed expression.
I should have known better than to entertain my brother’s fancy, Gideon thought as he crossed the room with the dowager on his arm. Now I’m to be displayed as a lamb to slaughter. Dancing. There’ll be hell to pay after this. He wished he could turn down the dowager’s request, but his stomach was already in knots from the improper way he’d spoken with her at the door. Social functions of the ton always managed to bring out the worst in him, as if his demeanor wasn’t bad enough. She looks terrified. Good. She will take the first dance and then leave me be. Nothing like a silent turn around the ballroom to scare the women away.
He had to admit that her ladyship was brilliant; one dance with him and every gentleman here would request a dance with the girl. What did Lady Greensborough say her name was? Bloody hell! He stopped a few yards in front of her as the crowd seemed to part between them like the Red Sea. She seemed frozen in fear. Finally, her friend whispered in her ear then pinched her, bringing her around.
“Your Grace, may I present you my granddaughter, Lady Alice Gracin. Lady Alice; His Grace, the Duke of Roxleigh.” The dowager then nodded to the orchestra on the second landing.
“Y-Your Grace,” Lady Alice stammered, curtseying deeply as he bowed. Much to his dismay, the musicians began a waltz. He shook his head. The dowager countess had orchestrated the display very well, regardless that she hadn’t known he was attending. He wondered whom he had displaced for the dance. He proffered his hand and Lady Alice took it reflexively. He swept her out of the crowd and onto the empty dance floor.
Gideon looked down at the small girl in his arms. She was shaking terribly and he suddenly felt like a buffoon, realizing from her expression that this wasn’t exactly what she would have wished.
“Lady Alice, do you need to sit down?” he asked, aware that his question might be entirely too forward.
She glanced up at him with wide eyes, shaking her head quickly.
He laughed. They were quite un-matched. The pile of curls on her head only came to his shoulder. They must be a spectacle. “Are you enjoying the Season?” he tried again.
She shook her head.
He frowned, realizing he needed a question that could not be answered with a mere shake of her head. “Why not?” he asked finally. He felt her body tense.
“I— Well, this is my first ball, so it is difficult to have enjoyed it when it has only just begun.”
“I see,” he said. I am an imbecile.
Then she spoke again. “You and Lord Trumbull are quite, um…” She bit her lip. “Well, I don’t believe anyone was expecting you,” she finished.
“No, I don’t believe they were. And yet here I am, dancing with you.” He led her through the corner, her skirts sweeping the floor behind her.
She glanced up at him again. “My mother will be furious.”
He thought for a moment. Her mother...furious? But he was the Duke of Roxleigh, and he was fairly certain he didn’t know the Countess of Greensborough. “Why is that?” he asked.
“It is just that I seem to have lost all of my senses suddenly by dancing with you. I beg your pardon, Your Grace, it is only that you and your brother, I mean, Your Grace and Lord Trumbull are quite—” She paused.
“Yes I suppose we are...quite,” he said, with a gleaming flash of perfect white teeth.
“Oh!” she cried, losing a step. He caught her carefully and they continued, no one the wiser except perhaps her mother, whom he’d picked out from the crowd by the hawk-like gaze she held on them.
Lady Alice was actually a delightful young lady. Much too young and missish for him, of course, but he wasn’t available regardless—not that anyone here would have any idea of that—and the thought steeled him.
“My mother. Oh, dear,” Lady Alice said.
He glanced back over to where the mother stood and saw her drawn-up face; she was frowning at the way her daughter was clambering around the floor in an attempt to keep up with him.
“Oh, dear,” he repeated with the same emphasis, followed by a grin. “Straighten your back and steady your shoulders,” he commanded.
She complied.
“Stiffen your arms…more. Much better, but lift your chin. Very nice. Now take a deep breath and let me lead,” he said gently.
She acquiesced.
On the next turn of the floor he glanced at the mother, who was starting to smile proudly, nudging the guest beside her and pointing.
“Very well, young lady. I believe we have fooled them all,” he said in a triumphant tone.
Lady Alice smiled.
The waltz ended and Gideon bestowed a regal bow on his partner, sending a blush soaring to her hairline. The entire ballroom started buzzing. “Would you like some refreshment?”
She nodded.
“Excellent. Perhaps you could gather your chaperone and meet me on the terrace.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” She curtseyed, a little off-kilter.
He turned to the refreshment table.
Alice’s friends descended on her like a flock of vultures, all speaking at once.
“Yes—no—no—wonderful—charming—no—what? Of course not!” She tried to answer all the questions as they followed her toward her mama. She informed her that they were to attend the duke on the terrace and her mother beamed, following at a discreet distance.
Bethany walked with Alice to the exit, their arms entwined. “I thought he was impermissible,” she said, leaning toward Alice with bright eyes.
“Not quite impermissible—impossible.” Alice shrugged, smiling.
Gideon nodded to the Countess of Greensborough as he passed her on the terrace, appreciating that she at least maintained a respectable distance. “Well, I believe you have a victory,” he said to Lady Alice with a smile a few moments later as he handed her the lemonade.
“Yes, Your Grace, thank you. I truly thought I was done for, and I had only just begun.”
“After this turn you will be quite successful in landing yourself an acceptable peer, and your mother should enjoy a successful Season for you. That is obviously what she wants.” He nodded toward her mother, who was watching and attempting to listen to their conversation, from much closer than she’d been before.
Lady Alice sipped her lemonade. “Since we seem to be speaking freely, Your Grace, I should tell you that I’m not interested in landing you as a husband. Or any other blue blood, for that matter.”
She looked back to her mother, then leaned toward him, whispering. “You see, Your Grace, I am already promised to someone. He only has to prove himself before he approaches Papa.”
Gideon cocked a brow.
“He is not of the peerage, so they certainly won’t be too keen on the notion,” she added.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Lady Alice bit her lip. “I— I am not sure. I suppose because you were so, well— I’m just not interested in you,” she finished with a nod.
“Defending your own honor? I cannot blame you, I suppose. I have acted somewhat boorish this evening.” He swirled his lemonade. “I’m guessing your family doesn’t know about your betrothed.”
Dismay crossed her features. “You would not— You will not say anything? Will you?”
“I have no interest in betraying your trust. It occurs to me that whichever gentleman you tip your cap for will be fortunate. I only hope that he is as deserving of such a sweet girl as you.”
She blushed at the bold compliment, then noticed her mother was anxiously pacing, surely wanting to return Alice to the ball to take advantage of the duke’s good graces. “Actually, Your Grace, he is— As you will find...”
He was just about to ask what she was on about when her mother interrupted, rather ungracefully. “Pardon, Your Grace, but my daughter should return. I have no doubt her dance card would be filled by now, had she not been out here on the terrace.”
Gideon gave her a cutting stare. Her dance card. Right. So be it. He wasn’t her quarry, but the woman was using him to field them.
“Alice,” he said, using only her Christian name without permission, “might I entreat you for another dance this evening?”
She smiled at his dismissal of her mother and curtseyed.
“Of course, Your Grace, I would be most honored,” she said, handing him the card.
He listed his name for another waltz, then, with a wry grin and casting a sideways glance at her overbearing mother, he wrote his brother’s name in no less than two places and proceeded to sprinkle his cousins throughout.
Handing it back to Alice, he leaned in. “Lady Alice, there is someone you must make the acquaintance of.” Preferably before the next dance begins.
She returned the grin and took his arm. He led her back to the ballroom while her mother shuffled to keep up.
They strode across the cavernous room, sidestepping the gentlemen who placed themselves in her path and losing her mother in the sea of guests. He scanned the ballroom for his brother, finally catching sight of him as he walked in from the terrace behind a suitably rumpled chit.
Gideon grunted and walked directly toward him. “Trumbull,” he said, “may I present Lady Alice Gracin.”
Perry lifted his brows as he finished straightening his waistcoat.
“Lady Alice, I present to you Lord Peregrine Trumbull, Viscount Roxleigh.”
She curtseyed and proffered her hand to Perry, who smiled the brilliant smile that was known to make women swoon, and kissed her hand while she giggled behind hers.
Rake, Gideon thought.
Perry glanced at his brother while his mind raced to figure out what Gideon was about; his brother knew he never dabbled with innocents. Perry smiled crookedly at the vision in his mind.
“Lady Alice, I am most honored to make your acquaintance.”
Gideon leaned in and whispered to his brother as a waltz started, then: “Well, Trumbull, according to the lady’s dance card, this is your waltz.”
Perry laughed, holding his hand out to her. “So it is,” he said jovially, then swept her out to the floor.
She smiled. “What did he whisper to you, my lord, if I might ask?”
“Ah, my lady, I’m not entirely sure I should answer. I will tell you that my brother has no patience for overbearing women such as your mother, and that we are to endeavor to keep you busy…all night.” He waggled his brows.
She blushed wildly, much to his delight.
He laughed. “Have no fear, sweet, your innocence is quite safe. I was merely referring to the ball.”
Alice searched through the crowed to find Gideon conversing with their cousins. They all turned to watch the pair of them dance, and Gideon winked at her. Perry laughed, and she tensed in his arms. He looked around to find her mother scowling at them.
“Your mother.” he said, with a nod in her direction.
Her eyes widened, then her jaw tensed, apparently attempting to quell a much-too-satisfied smile. She understood. Looking up into Perry’s face with a laugh, she said, “Why, Lord Trumbull, I never expected to find myself a champion tonight, much less two.”
“Or five, I’d imagine.” He grinned. “You are charming! My brother does pick them well.”
At the request of the dowager, Gideon made his way to the library. He knew not what she was about, only that he wasn’t keen to disappoint her again.
Two royal guards met him at the door and he felt his back straighten without a thought. By the grace of God, Queen Victoria. His breath stilled—even his lungs were nervous. He felt eyes on him, though he could swear nobody had even so much as twitched. Damn bloody good at what they did. He pointed to the door, and they made no motion to help him or stop him, so he reached for it—slowly.
“Roxleigh, what by heavens has kept you? Dear boy, it seems I’ve been waiting for ages.”
“Your Majesty.” He bowed as far as his waistcoat allowed, then pressed further.
“Stand up, let me look on you. I see. Well, keeping you up north does something for your complexion. It appears we have more sunshine up there than here.”
“Your Majesty ” His fingers twisted
behind his back.
“Well, I’ve come to remind you. I cannot wait forever, and that cousin of yours is much too eager and much too close for my taste.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I believe I might have a ready solution that quite, well, quite came by way of accident.”
“I hear you do not know who she is.” He started to shake his head, then was struck with the thought that nobody knew of Francine outside of his household.
“Minor obstacle.”
“One that must be remedied. You of all people cannot simply marry. You are Roxleigh.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I understand.” He cast his eyes downward— perhaps for a moment to think, he wasn’t sure. But in that moment she moved toward him faster than any person of her age had right to do.
“I see. So it’s like that, is it?”
“Apologies, Your Majesty. Like what?” His palms were sweating inside his gloves and her hand came out to lift his chin.
“You love her.”
There went his lungs again. Undoubtedly he would have permanent damage from lack of oxygen. Terribly inconvenient.
“Do not attempt to cozen me, Roxleigh. I can see it plain as day. You seem to forget—”
“I have not forgotten, Your Majesty. I beg pardon, nobody could possibly forget His Royal Highness. As always, you have my deepest sympathies.” He watched her eyes; she seemed so deep in thought that he felt like an intruder. After a time, she whispered and he had to lean toward her to hear the quiet words.
“Make her yours, Roxleigh. Whatever it takes, then hold on to her for as long as you possibly can.” She nodded and swept out of the room without another word.
The rest of the night was spent with his cousins, who laughed and danced through the evening, endeavoring to entertain Lady Gracin, protect Lady Saorise, and enliven Lady Isadore and Lady Maebh. The ladies never wanted for a partner, as the gentleman were on constant call.
For the first time ever, Gideon was actually disappointed to leave a societal ball. On their way out he made sure to invite the dowager countess to his house party at the end of the summer.
“I only wanted to provide you with advanced notice. The formal invitation will follow, of course,” he said.
